Untitled musings, pt. 1

…then he stuck his two fingers up inside me, and played around, kind of silly and high school-ish, but sexy at the same time, touching some good spots in there, like he knew what he was doing.

I just wanted his cock inside me. It didn’t matter where, in my pussy, my mouth, my… ass…

I just wanted to feel it pulsating inside me, pushing its way insistently inside my body, taking me over and bending me to its will.

That’s the way I think of it — Its will. Not his.

He’d said being stoned made him want sex. He mentioned it in passing, just explaining to me why he was so hesitant to smoke weed when with a group of friends. I like weed, but it has very specific uses for me. It’s good for creative writing — alone. It’s good for playing music, also alone. Or with a band, improvising. It helps if everyone else is stoned. And it’s good for sex.

He grinned, blushed.

Hmmm… so if you was to get hard right now, it wouldn’t be because you found me sexy, or because I was down here on my knees getting ready to blow you, it would just be the weed, right?

You… want to blow me…

You damn right.

He chose my cunt.

Oh, God, I knew you would feel like that.

Like what?

Like… you just fit everything inside me, just perfect. Like we’re perfect mirrors of each other in reverse.

When later, he chose my ass, it felt much the same way.

I told him he was my first.

It’s good, baby, I said in response to his anxious watching face, looming above mine. He’d insisted we do it this way if it was my first; less painful, he said.

It did feel good, despite the discomfort of having my legs on my shoulders. He didn’t compare in size to my father’s friends, but I hadn’t been very big back then either; both organs had changed in size and length, but they somehow still fit much better, tighter, created more friction.

Later I found out that the tissues inside a woman’s vagina swell when she’s really aroused. That explains how his cock felt in my cooter, but in my booter…?

He’d been the first since I was a kid, so that was some kind of virginity prize, I think.

He filled every crevice there just right, too.

I think he took it back, erased things, made it mine again. It didn’t belong to my daddy’s drunk friends anymore, back in the islands. Is that possible?

I think this is all I ever want again. I’ve had a thousand, but this one was made for me.

Is that possible?

French Vanilla Summer

You remember when you first saw him, your older sister’s boyfriend. He was leaning on his dirtbike in the school parking lot, his white-blond hair looking a lot like vanilla frosting in the sunlight.

Your sister was dark and rounded in that womanly Latina way, even more than you were. Her ass drew a lot of stares when she went down the hallway. “That be a woman’s ass,” the black guys used to say wistfully. “Ain’t no little girl there.”  They liked your ass, but they liked hers better; it was rounder, stuck out further in the back, not so far on the sides, like yours, and her waist was smaller.

You thought it was some funny bullshit; your sister Dez was scared of black guys, even though she was older than you, and the black guys were your friends.

But Glen was opposite of black. His arms were tanned like a perfectly grilled hot dog and his hair was bleached, like French Vanilla ice cream.

That was the summer you first fell in love with food, and your body was just starting to show it a little. You had bigger boobs than most girls, including your older sister, and a pretty big butt, but it wasn’t the same round shape as hers.

A few weeks later, you were almost asleep in your room watching some nonsense on TV alone. Dez was out with Glen at some movie, their first official date. You knew that, but your parents didn’t. She’d told them she was staying over a friend’s house for the night. She was sixteen, so she shouldn’t have to do this kind of thing, but your parents were sort of old world; at least your father was. Your parents were off having a late dinner; if Dez and Glen had known that, they’d have come here and watched TV instead.

All of a sudden, you heard the parents’ car roar into the drive, and screech to a stop. Your father’s voice came to you like a gust of hot wind, and the things he was saying were shocking even when you didn’t know what most of them meant. Castilian Spanish words, and not nice ones, from the sound of it.

Your parents never fought. He never drove fast. You went to the window and saw him drag Dez out of the car. Oh shit. She’d been caught.

Your mother grabbed her hand and hauled her into the house, muttering all the time. “Kissing an Anglo boy in public??? Your father could have killed you.” Your father was still cussing in Spanish, at the top of his lungs. The neighbors knew something was going on, but they couldn’t say for sure he was cussing anymore than you could, because they didn’t speak  Spanish at all.

Then you heard the sound of a dirt bike out back. No one else had heard it over the commotion. It shut off by the edge of the woods.

You decided to avert disaster by telling him to stay away, assuring him your sister was alright. You slipped out, even though you were in your nightie; just threw on some sweatpants and out the window.

He stood by the edge of the woods, pacing and smoking. When he saw you, he jumped and started forward. “How’s D?” he said in a loud whisper. “We were just at a movie, and…” His voice shook. “He better not hurt her, or I’ll…”

You put your finger across his lips. “My dad is just mad because she lied,” you said. “He’d never hurt her.” You hoped that was true.

“You sure? He seemed like he was pretty rough with her,” he said. “Yanked her arm, and pushed her…”

“I am sure,” you said. “He’s already calmed down.”

He blew out his breath in a big gust of relief. “Ok.” He finally smiled.

“I should go back,” you said. “You should push your bike for awhile so he won’t hear it.”

You turned.

“Hey,” he called. “Stay a minute while I finish my smoke.” He sat on a log and you joined him.

He held out the butt to you. “I don’t smoke,” you said. “Dad would kill me.”

He smiled, and pulled a twig from your hair, flipped it back from your face. “You’re kind of cute,” he said. “How old are you? Have a boyfriend yet?”

You couldn’t help it. He was so close, and he’d said you were cute. You kissed him. Suddenly his hands were on your hips, his lips on yours, his tongue raking your teeth and probing your mouth. He touched your nipples experimentally through your shirt, making you gasp, and when you didn’t stop him he slid his hands inside and cupped the left one, your favorite. His cool fingers felt delicious on your new breasts, sending messages to your brain that it had never considered before. Way down in your sweats, under that thatch of black Spanish hair, you felt yourself get warm and start to moisten.

Then you saw, or rather felt, the bump in his pants, as it brushed against you, and you reached out and touched it with shaky fingers, and then he made a noise in his throat and pressed it against your hip, and one hand traveled down and inside your panties, touching the wet. It felt good when his finger slid inside you, and you sighed. Then he stood and took his jeans open and his penis out and somehow was in your face, and he was begging you please, Mariella, please just suck it a little bit, and you did it because he was so adorably cute, and it tasted funny but not bad. Then he started to move and he was going too deep in your throat and you were trying to keep up but you choked and he stopped.

Then he was urging you over to this fallen tree where he bent you over and pulled your sweatpants down and pressed his hard slick thing against you, sliding between your legs, smearing you with its juices. You felt it start to slip inside you, but it wasn’t supposed to go there, was it? In your ass? You started to pull away, but he was almost sobbing please, please, please, you’re so sexy, I’ll do whatever you want and you figured he was older and he knew what he was doing.

You pushed back, and he pushed again, and his wet slippery thing went into your ass all the way. He sobbed “Oh yeah,baby, Oh yeah!” began to thrust and pull. It hurt some, but you knew it might. They said it always did the first time. But as he went on, pressing his dick into your ass, you began to get some pleasure from it, and you started to moan, and he asked, “Do you like my cock, baby?” and you said “Oh yeah, Oh Glen, oh God,” and he started to thrust harder, his… cock got even harder and longer, deeper in you. Now you were really getting excited, when he suddenly made a long groaning noise and slammed inside you real hard and went rigid against you. You felt his cock twitch deep inside you and shoot hot stuff into you and it felt gooooood… Then he stopped and sighed, pulled out and sheepishly buttoned up his pants, and you were disappointed.

The next time he came to see Dez, after your dad calmed down, he met the parents and he and Dez would sit and watch TV with your parents on the couch in the living room. They introduced you to him formally, and you were very shy with him and everybody thought it was because you’d never seen Dez with a boy before.

So that’s how it started. For the next few years, he would come to see Dez, and after the evening was done, he would leave by the road and then after he left, you’d wait until your parents were asleep or busy, and you’d slip out.

Your knees shook with the need to have him bend you over and stuff his hard little cock into your naughty spot, to feel his hipbones pounding your butt cheeks hard, hard enough to leave odd bruises for your mother to puzzle over, to feel his cock swell thicker and then pulse hard, held deep inside you, and squirt the white stuff that would dribble out of you over the next few hours and make a disgusting mess of your underwear later. You learned to wear extra cloth inside your panties after he fucked you, or use a panty shield, after that time that your mother came to you and tactfully asked if you had had diarrhea one night.

Then he came over to your house one day when no one was home, when he knew because Dez told him, that just you and she would be home without the parents. It was a Sunday morning and your parents had gone to church, but you were sick, and she’d asked him to come over because she was going to pretend she had caught your cold. But your mom was no fool, and she’d taken Dez along anyway, her sickness vanished in a cloud of sulking because mom didn’t believe her.

When you heard his bike, your insides got all fluttery and you pulled yourself out of bed to answer his knock on Dez’s window. When he saw you, he seemed surprised, but not disappointed, you were pleased to note. You explained and invited him in through the basement. You sat with him on the couch for awhile but when he started kissing you, which he’d never done much after that first time, you took his hand and took him back to the bedroom. You bent over the bed, and started to pull down your pajamas but he stopped you and got undressed, then undressed you, climbed into bed and pulled you in beside him. It felt strange to be fully naked in front of him and in bed, and you were nervous, awkward. He kissed you hard and you felt his cock stiff against your thigh.

Then he slipped three fingers inside your vagina and pushed deep. You gasped, because it hurt.

He took it as excitement, and began to push in harder, then abruptly pushed you onto your back and climbed on top of you. You protested, thinking it wouldn’t work this way, he couldn’t reach your ass from the front, but then his hard cock was pressing its way into your vagina and you were moaning in pain, almost sobbing. Then he was in and moving, and you tried to move with him so he didn’t go so deep. Soon, there was some pleasure mixed in with the cramps that came when he went in too deep.

He soon came again, and you wondered if you would get to come, too, sometime.

He heaved off you after he’d caught his breath and went into the bath to wash up. He came back looking puzzled, holding up the bloody cloth. “How can you be bleeding? Are you on your period?” You shook your head.

He frowned, puzzled, and you didn’t like being a disappointment, so you crawled across the bed and took his cock in your mouth. It smelled and tasted like your fingers after you played with yourself, but you didn’t care. Soon, he was hard in your mouth again and rocking back and forth with your movements. His cock was seeping, tasting oily on your tongue, and you feeling queasy from the lingering cold, but you sucked harder anyway, taking his balls in your hand and squeezing softly.

Then he made a funny sound in his throat, something like a cough mixed with a sneeze, and then he was pushing his cock deep in your throat, his hands tangled in your hair and squirting his hot sticky stuff into your throat. You swallowed quickly, like it was bad medicine.

“Boy,” he said breathlessly. “I wish your sister was as much fun as you.”

It made you feel good, and guilty, to hear him say that.

Well, she had the tiny waist. So you hoped it all worked out even.

You were there a few weeks later when he tried to fuck Dez and you tried to save them from getting caught, but you weren’t fast enough. When you heard your dad’s steps on the stairs, you thumped on the wall. but they didn’t hear. When your  dad burst through the bedroom door, Dez’s top was off, her skirt bunched up around her thighs.

It was the last time any of you ever saw the boy with the French Vanilla hair.

So what does that tell you? part one

She lies down on the bed slowly, uncoiling her body like rope, spreading herself out much thinner and longer than anyone would suspect. With her clothes on, she’s much more stolid, Jane Q. Citizen, a walking billboard for the Modern Successful Woman in a smart suit even when she’s hanging with the family at a cookout on the weekend.

On our trip to the store for some more ice and sodas, we’ve ducked into the house of a neighbor of my mother’s, who I know is on vacation, and who just happens to keep his key in the same place he did when we were kids.

“So that’s what he wants, I guess.” Her voice is softer here, too, more diffident than it is out in the real world, where she speaks in sharp declarative sentences, and is always making plans that remove obstacles that maybe only she sees.

In here, somehow, it’s always 1973.

“Hmmm. I see. So what do you want from me?” My voice is light, teasing, and she responds the same way.

“What else? The same great service as always. Teach me.You’ve done it, I assume?”

I grin. “Of course I have, Grasshopper. But you know, someday you must meet the world on your own.”

She smiles, her teeth peeking out around her thin lips, sad but still somehow genuinely pleased. “I think you’ll agree it’s probably too late for that,” she says. “You’re my teacher. We have established that.”

“Someday, the student shall surpass the teacher. After you snatch the fly from the air with chopsticks, of course.”

She grins again. “Silly. You’re mixing movies and TV shows.”

“Ahhh so. The million-dollar question. Just how big is this new guy?”

She holds her thumb and finger apart a few inches and says. “Mr. Vienna.”

“Wow. So why do you bother?”

“I don’t know. He’s good to me, and I just want to make him happy.”

“Well, I think you’d be better off with him, the first time,” I say, running my hands over her body and down to the tangle of fur that she has allowed to grow back from the thin ‘landing strip’ she had when I last touched her — what? About two years ago? So she planned this, I see. I run my hands over her pert little butt, as sexy as it was the first time I touched it.

“Well, I still prefer you,” she says. “I know you’re bigger, but you won’t hurt me. That’s another thing we have established, I think it’s safe to say.”

I yield the point. “Okay. But this is not something I think you should do immediately, dear. I think you need to prepare for it, practice relaxing.” I run my hand down across her compact butt and trace along the cleft with my forefinger. “Is he in a hurry?”

“He’d like it sooner rather than later, but I’ll put him off a week or so; tell him I need to research it,” she says easily.

“So… I get to take your virginity for the second time,” I say wonderingly.

Her eyes get that faraway look, and I know she’s remembering.

The week before the Doobie Brothers concert at the arena. Her boyfriend, who is a good five years older than she is, Randall, a loser from the bar where she and her underage friends hang out, cadging drinks. It’s still the ’70s, simultaneously a more-innocent and yet more-jaded time, when being underage doesn’t mean you can’t get inside the door of a bar yet without a fake ID. A halter top and a pair of low-riding jeans will get you in all but the most uptight of them. He has a Yamaha and a cheezy moustache, and he wears a T-Shirt that shows a kitten in a champagne glass and declares that Happiness is a Tight Pussy.

He somehow scored tickets to the show – probably stole them — and he’s taking her. He’s been pushing her pretty hard for awhile now, and she knows that he intends this to be the night she gives it up, and she’s resigned to it, but still scared. She often takes me with her to meet him because the pressure is less when younger kids are around, but it’s a drag for me, because he’s always trying to bribe me into going to the store to get him something — playing cards, donuts, a soda — anything to get me gone. She’s tired of the game, tired of the begging, pleading, wheedling, and she’s going to get it over with. Looks like making it to 16 is not in the cards, she tells me.

Wo ooh wo, listen to the music.

I am pissed. I have begun to hate the guy and his single-mindlessness. I tell her she doesn’t need to do this, but she says it’s okay. Lots of her friends gave it up at 13 or 14, and she knows it’s gotta be soon before she gets the wrong reputation.

You know, for being a frigid prick teaser.

I tell her I wish I knew her friends gave it up at my age, and she says that they don’t usually give it up to boys their own age. “Older men is what we all want. I wonder why?” I walk away toward the woods and prop my foot up on the log where I keep my Kool Milds. I stand and light one while I piss down into the culvert. Suddenly, I hear her, behind me. Too close behind me. “Hey, lend me a fag, man.”

“Hey, girl, I’m pissing here,” I protest, stuffing myself awkwardly back into my pants and turning away from the sound of her voice.

“I know,” she says. “Just toss me the pack.”

I hear the scratch of the match, and her inhalation. “Hey. I wanna ask you something.”

“Ok.”

“Don’t freak on me, alright?”

“Jeez. Just freakin’ ask, ok?”

“Can I… see it?”

“What??” I squawk. But I know what she means.

“I just wanna know what they look like. You know, I have only seen them in books. I just want to… you know, get ready for it…”

I decide quickly. “Ok. But you gotta show me yours too.”

She catches her breath and I know she’s about to say no.

“Fair’s fair,” I say. “I’m almost 14, and I need to get ready for it, too.”

Without another word, she lays down on the grass and pulls her skirt up. I can see her white cotton undies stretched taut over … whatever is there. I start to hear buzzing in my ears when she grasps the waistband and gets ready to pull it down.

Then she stops. “You first.”

The next thing I know, I have dropped my pants again, literally because they were already open, and she’s squinting into the sun to see my penis, which is embarrassingly getting harder and longer. “Wow,” she says wonderingly. “I didn’t know that they were that big. It looks like it might hurt.”

“You mean you never touched his…?” I had enough of a sense of things to suspect otherwise. But she shook her head. “Not… really. He rubs it against me through his pants, and puts my hand on it, but it’s hard to tell what it looks like. Seems like a knot more than a… pole. Wow.” She sits up to take closer look. “It’s getting a lot bigger.”

I am embarrassed. “Well, take off your panties. You promised.”

She looks at me, blushing hard, as she lies back again and, bending her knees, pulls them off, and I catch my first glimpse of actual pussy. Her skin is pale white, the hair soft brown and thin like on a baby‘s head. I can see a line, a separation of flesh extending down from the hair into her flesh, that extends out of sight between her parted legs. I wonder if it’s the same cleft that runs between her ass cheeks, and lean in for a closer look. She struggles into a sitting position and I see with shock that she is reaching for me.

“I just want to touch it,” she says. “Please. It’ll make it easier when I have to do it … later.”

She takes my cock into her sweaty palm and uses her fingers to push back the foreskin which is already pulling away on its own. It gives a leap at her touch and she jumps, then laughs. “Whoa,” she says as a sticky drop appears and wets her hands. I reach down and nudge her knees apart again so I can see. I don’t even ask; I just touch her crease, and it opens around my finger. I am surprised by the heat and the oiliness, and my finger slides inside. “Oh!” she says softly, and then I am rubbing and she is sighing, then suddenly I am lying on top of her, clumsily nuzzling her neck and pressing myself to her, seeking out the wetness. She gasps but doesn’t try to stop me and as I slide my cock into her slick warm pussy, I feel her hands on my bare ass, urging me on.

The heat of being inside her body electrifies me, and I press hard, trying to go in as deep as I can. She squeals as my cock presses against some sort of barrier and then she squeezes my ass harder, pulling me into her, and I feel it give. She cries out and I stop, but she’s murmuring that it’s okay, it’s supposed to be that way, it’s the hymen. I don’t know what she means, but I follow the heat of her, puahing way inside, until my cock is buried in her up to the balls. “Oh!” she says again.

“That feels good,” she says breathlessly.

“What now?” I ask.

She looks at me and laughs, her voice still breathless. “Move,” she says, and her hips push against mine, lifting her ass off the grass and then we begin pushing, pulling, in, out, over and over, faster and faster, as the feeling of hot flesh rubbing me wetly takes over. I grab her ass and blindly thrust back, hearing her breathing quicken in my ears, moaning into my neck whenever I go in all the way.

When I explode inside her, it feels like death and heaven all wrapped up in one, and her breathless voice in my ear suggests the feeling is mutual.

I wonder briefly if being the first one in her ass twenty years later will feel somewhat the same. It really does, actually.

When she shows up at the appointed place a week later, she’s prepared. “Which kind do you prefer?” she asks as she unpacks two boxes of condoms from her bag, along with the tube of gel I specified.

“Well, it’s up to you if we use one or not,” I tell her.

She colors. “I assumed…everyone would. For, you know, hygiene…”

“Well, we can, if it will make you feel more relaxed,” I tell her. “But… it hurts more the first time if you do. The latex sort of burns. If you did what I told you, about when to eat and what… and the enema to be safe?” She nods. “Then there’s no real need.”

She stands and bends over the bed, and hauls up her skirt. Her pale pink ass is naked under it, and I feel myself respond like a programmed robot. I rub my thickening cock against her cleft as I squeeze lube into my fingers and she moans.

“Wow, that’s cold,” she says as I slip my oily finger slowly inside her ass. She tenses up slightly but seems pretty relaxed for a first timer. She listens so well. I want to ram it into her tight little ass, my unsullied prize; it’s mine, and I want it.

“Baby,” I say. “It’s easier the first time if we do it from the front. I mean I love to look at your ass,  and I know it would be good for me this way, but…”

“What…?” she says. “how?”

I show her, pushing her onto the bed supine and pressing her knees to her chest, then I reinsert my finger, working the knuckle past the sphincter and then following it with another. She gasps as I turn both slowly, and her breath starts to come faster as I press my hard cockhead into her cleft.

God, she’s tight, but the lube lets me slide right in, and she flinches but doesn’t pull away. I go in slowly, all the way, and stop fully inside her. “Just relax and get used to the feeling,” I say, as her breath races.

“Ok,” I say breathlessly, excited like a teenager, despite my best attempts. “When you’re ready, I am gonna fuck you.”

She swallows and blinks, her ass tight around me, but her body is slowly losing that panicked tenseness, her legs relaxing to let her lower back touch the bed again, and her cheeks rest on my thighs. “God,” she says. “You’re big. I always forget how big.”

Then she nods, and I start to move.

“Oh, Jesus,” she says as I slide almost all the way out and then start in again.

It’s like the first time all over again, she’s so tight that I am waiting for something to tear. I take her small breast in my hand and her heart thumps against my fingers like a scared rabbit, her breath whistling through her clenched teeth.

“Want me to stop?” I ask. She senses how much I want this and shakes her head.

“Just go easy… at first,” she gasps, closing her eyes

I take her nipple between my thumb and forefinger and squeeze. She jerks toward me, her eyes slam open again. I slip smoothly into her to the hilt and she groans.

“That…felt nice,” she gasps as I hold still inside her. “Do it again.”

I pull out and thrust in again, pushing her sphincter open again, rougher, faster, pinching both her nipples now to distract her.

“Oh, God,” she moans. “Do that some more. It’s so … nasty good.”

I slide my hand under her and lift her higher, folding her in half, her thighs touching her breasts, and begin to thrust harder, faster. I pound her ass, pulling her calves up to encircle my shoulders.

“I am fucking your ass, dear. How’s that?” My breath is coming fast, panting, her ass is fire, tight as a vice.

She stops me, and gets up. I think she’s going to the bathroom to cry and clean up, but she bends over the bed and pulls her cheeks apart for me. I slide between the familiar yet shockingly new compact rounded buttocks and nudge apart the puckered flower of her rectum. She meets my gentle thrust, burying me in her snug bunghole.

My animal takes over, like the first time. I ride, ride, ride, until I come hard. She cries out as I start to spurt, and then I go rigid and hold my cock deep inside her, and she moans, shudders to orgasm as my semen surges into her, filling her little ass.

“You know I never did…” she says when she gets her breath back.

“Never did what?”

“Never did give it up to Randall,” she says. “After you, he was just not very exciting.”

A full year later…

We only have a few minutes and she’s not wasting any time.

She slides to the floor and takes me in her mouth, sucking me in deeply and begins to work on me. In a flash, I am stiffening, reaching into her throat as deep as I can. She catches my gaze and holds it as she pulls me in, lengthening me quickly, and my blood begins to pound in my ears.

I let her drive, ducking her head in and pulling back, faster then slower, harder then softer and deep, just like she knows I like it. Soon I am spurting into her mouth and throat, holding myself rigid while she milks me gently.

She swallows and toys with me for a second, teasing. “You’re still so easy. Even after all this time, I guess nobody sucks you like your little sister, huh?”

“You’re not my little sister,” I say peevishly, and push back into her mouth. She obliges, and I feel myself hardening right away. “You’re almost three years older than me.”

Then I feel the rush of it all again, so soon, the furnace heat of her mouth, the brush of her tongue  across my glans, the soft bump of her palate meeting it as she moves her head in and out, bringing me right back to the moment. And I begin to move, thrusting into her mouth like I would in any of her orifices, the tide bubbles up and then rushes out, taking me with it. My groans sound strange even to my ears.

She hitches a bit, then quickly engulfs me completely, sucking me forcefully into her throat, the better to swallow it all quickly. But I stop.

As I push her down onto the rug supine, she makes a sound of surprise. “You haven’t wanted to fuck that way in… in years. Wow. God, that feels good,” she pants as I slide into her and start to pump.

Her pussy is as tight as I remember, though without the hymen. I feel her clasp me tightly just as she did all those years ago, and as I ram myself deep inside, I brush my groin against hers and rub it, just as I know to do, to tug the vaginal lips and give her clit the right amount of stimulation. I feel the squeeze as she begins to respond, and soon her spasms start, bringing the whimpering sounds that signal her orgasm.

So why do we keep on doing this, after all these years? When we were kids, maybe the first time was understandable; simple childish curiosity. But we have known better for decades. It’s not like we are poor rednecks from Appalachia. Incest is a major taboo in this society, and we’re mostly people who follow societal norms. In every other part of our lives we are normal.

She was married, I have never been. But I date a lot, various and sundry bimbos who praise me to their friends, tell them all how funny I am, how charming, how absolutely amazing in bed. Some are more serious, some are just pieces of ass.

But every so often…

It can go years, as it sometimes does, between times, and then sometimes it’s a few weeks. Often at family gatherings, but not always. Somehow no one ever seems to suspect.

I remember the day, several years ago, when she brought the guy over again who had wanted anal sex. I thought this must be someone special, if she was willing to try something like that. And her bringing him back again to a family gathering four months later seemed to confirm that.

I wasn’t sure that we’d do anything this time. Not unusual for us to just totally stop for a long time with no real discussion. Especially when one of us has a new someone. But when I heard her say she needed to go get something in the garage freezer, saw her incline her head in what seemed like an invitation, I followed a few minutes later, slipping off the deck when her date headed inside, I assumed to the can. But when I rounded the front, there he was, headed toward the building. Uh-oh. Close call. I followed, but kept my distance, stopping to smoke a cigarette, my alleged reason for leaving.

Eventually, I walked to the outside wall of the garage, and listened. The sound of rapid breathing and soft slurping came from the open window, and I chanced a peek.  She knelt with her skirt pulled up to avoid the dirty floor, his cock in her hand and mouth, eyes squeezed shut as if she could not look.

What a surprise. The man’s cock was huge, red and thick, a good nine inches. Her lips strained to go around it and when he thrust forward, she hitched and tried to take half of him into her throat, her eyes bugging. Vienna sausage, my ass.

Well, her ass, actually.

Eyes still closed, he pulled her to her feet and she came reluctantly, bending at the waist and holding her skirt high. He positioned himself behind her and lined up his massive rod with her pussy, and she grimaced as he entered. But after a few deep thrusts, he pulled his cock out, shiny with her juices, and pressed it against her puckered anus. This kinky son of a bitch was going to fuck her in the ass right here at the Easter dinner. She caught her breath and her eyes zoomed wildly from side to side as he made his way laboriously into her ass, but she did not cry out, standing braced, her head hanging as if being lectured, as he skewered her. Her body language suggested she was being punished rather than pleasured, her limp and motionless form such a contrast to the way she was with me, when she was a full partner in the motion.

He seized her hips and buried his thick cock between her pale cheeks apparently all the way in, his heavy balls resting against her, and began to pump. She began to whimper, almost sobbing, but underneath it I thought I could hear the sounds that could signal orgasm.

I walked to the back of the building and loudly slammed the door. The sounds ceased abruptly.

The ages of things

She would meet me at the old house, slipping out when her mother was occupied with her own lover, or she would come up with excuses, something that didn’t require a car; visiting a friend who lived close, a basketball game, something that could be an excuse for slipping out and walking a few blocks in the wrong direction before doubling back and streaking through the woods over to the old house. The house where we used to live chastely together, me as her father’s guest, a friend from out of town come to stay for an extended period, she as his dutiful beautiful underage daughter. The house was somehow still empty, years after her dad and stepmom had moved up the coast to Nimbin and joined a community of pseudo-hippie-hedonists like themselves.

She looked every bit the voluptuous hippie girl herself, buxom, bursting with health. Her body was near perfection, with a rounded hour-glass aspect, clearly a woman’s shape animated by a girl’s vitality; a bit of baby fat lining the lush, graceful curves, but it just made me even more molten for her. Especially in the days before, when I looked only from afar.

She has these sultry, pouty lips, with a line of fine muscle around the border, full expressive lips that you just need to kiss, softly, gently, taste them like they’re a delicacy, an appetizing morsel to tempt you before the coming feast. And then after a bit, you press harder against them, tickle them with your tongue, then move inside and explore her mouth, engage her tongue, withdraw and then meet again, harder, then catch the corner of her lip softly in your teeth as you separate, nibble softly along the ridge until you feel her breath speed up.

Lips you bite lightly when she’s highly excited, so hot she’s about to crawl out of her skin, when light pain gets all mixed up in your brain with pleasure.

Her face is an oval, almond-shaded, framed by dark pixie hair, her nose aquiline yet soft, with a lock of her hair always hanging not-quite-across one eye, curling alongside her nose like an accent, her skin feathery to the touch almost like it’s been powdered with sugar. It tastes just as delicately delicious.

Her eyes are soft brown one minute, gentle, then black-purple the next, almost dangerous looking, a change that alters her every feature, making her seem an almost-constant mystery, a stranger that you somehow know without really knowing, need even when you can’t recognize her.

Even when I am the one making all the moves, doing all the seducing, while she silently — or not-so-silently — registers her surprise and pleasure at all the new things I do to her, it still feels like she’s somehow the one controlling everything.

I dip down, kneel, and explore under her soft white cotton skirt, and her sighs and whispering cautions show her appreciation and inexperience, and the novelty of sliding my tongue into that subtly sweet, tangy, sticky slit and knowing I am in all the likelihood the first tongue to ever taste her, the Columbus of Carnal Knowledge.

I make my tongue soft and broad and slip it gently across the opening in her softly-furry mound, up, up and then slowly inside at the tip so softly, it’s like a whisper. She grabs my head, her fingers entwining into my hair, vocalizing but saying nothing, soft liquid sounds issuing from her mouth. I set a steady, gentle pace and she starts to undulate slowly, her hips describing a soft determined semi-circle, the intensity of her thrusts slowly building until she’s rubbing herself against my lips, my tongue, my chin, moaning softly.

I suddenly make my tongue go stiff and clenched, pointed, and thrust inside, darting swiftly into her gooey center before resuming the gentle vertical swipe. She goes rigid for a second with a sharp intake of air, and then grinds herself against me. “Do that again,” she gasps. “Please?”

I take off then, launch all my skills and technique, all the things her gender across the country and the world have painstakingly taught me over the years. In minutes, no, seconds, she’s coming, moaning, sobbing, grinding against me, her hands clasped tightly to both sides of my head.

“My God,” she says shyly when she can speak again. “I had no idea it could be like this. Jeez.”

I stand, sliding up her body to her perfect breasts, touch her perky nipples each in turn, then lean in to taste each, my hands gripping that perfect meaty, shapely butt. She groans and presses herself against me, her sticky cunt suctioning to my thigh. I nudge it with my knee and she murmurs approvingly. “I guess there’s some compensation for being my age,” I say softly. She smiles, nods.

I often think back on that, the way it was at first, as she stands before me these days, her face defiant and full of scorn, disgusted at my continuing physical decline, yet she comes when I call her, grudgingly unwilling, moving across the room in that strange splay-legged gait that looks like her thighs are scraping together.

I know the signs, and I know them well. She’s the only woman I have ever met who needs sex as much as I do, her body signaling that need as clearly as if she had a neon sign on her head – or a bulge in her pants. Her labia suffuse with blood when she’s in need, and push out, rubbing against each other, making her walk bowlegged, until she needs to scratch it like an actual itch. If she doesn’t get what she needs, she’ll go home and masturbate in her strangely violent way, scratch herself until she comes. She does that out of spite, not pleasure. She only wants me, but it’s not personal – her cunt likes my cock. It’s not like she desires me as a being, or even likes me very much anymore. In fact, most days she says she hates me.

But the sex is every bit as mind-blowing; every time is like the first time, if not always in the same gentle style, it matches that first time in intensity. She still needs me to take over and dominate, even as she loathes me, hates that she needs it. Some nights she sobs while she rides me, cursing me with her eyes while out of her mouth tumble tiny, surprised mumbled words of effusive praise, helpless in her gratitude for what her body is getting from its melding with mine.

It’s a mutual need, an addiction for both of us.

The first time I parted her with my finger and thumb and held her apart while my penis entered her, it was like an explosion of emotion and sensation, grabbing us both and throwing us into each other’s orbit, trapping us with the centrifugal force, making us cling to each other and gasp with wonder at what had been unleashed. It seemed an awesome, fearsome thing, capable of life without our consent, and of fierce destruction if it should decide to — and it still does.

That day, we moved slowly, tentatively yet somehow deliberately, tenderly meshing our bodies, learning our parts, interlacing my suddenly-rigid cock in her soft tissue-paper-like tensile wetness, lest we break something, start a chain reaction, initiate a meltdown. But the energy spooled up anyway, spilling over us, heating our thighs and flushing our faces and limbs with racing blood, even as we moved slowly, deeply restrained even as we buried my most impressive erection ever inside her innocent babe-flesh.

When my orgasm came, there was no question of holding it back even for a moment, it blasted its way up and out like a geyser, flooding her insides like a firehose and then suddenly she was coming with me, her tiny cunt clamping ever harder, milking, and she screamed into my ear, a ragged bird-like cry, dredged from some forgotten part of the brain that humans had long ago abandoned. I felt the force of my spasm as a pressure in the fillings in my teeth, in my toenails, in my soul. With the rush of blood to my head, my ears began to hum, rumble, sing, and the world went blurry and indistinct, her cry of primal primacy sounding robustly feline and childishly fragile at the same time inside my head.

Back then, she would always lay her head down on my chest, her hair matting and bonding to my damp skin, and sleep, stirring with my every move, kissing my chest in her sleep, murmuring. Sleeping exactly an hour, then waking cleanly and departing with a secret backward smile.

These days she leaves as I lie, still gasping, not daring to call to her lest the pounding in my chest be accompanied by a sharp, lightning pain down my arms.

The first brush…

…Some time afterward, without discussion, he rolled her over onto her stomach and made love to her other side, his tongue tracing her spine from the tips of her ears down to the swell of her butt, where he paused for an extended time, rubbing, lightly tracing, kissing, licking between her legs, his tongue entering her soaked and aching vagina from behind, sending the blood gushing south again in a roaring torrent.

Gently he probed the crease of her ass with his slippery fingers, thumbing the bud of her anus softly, until she relaxed enough to let him penetrate her, holding still and stroking her shoulders, her back and cheeks reassuringly until she relaxed again and let him insert a finger. Soon, he added a second and began sliding them in and out slowly, softly, and her body followed the sleepy sexy motion, rising, falling as if riding a wave.

Then she felt his hardness brush her thigh and she tensed with the sudden premonition of what was to come. She was frightened, but she knew he would be gentle and he was.

She also did not know if he would stop if she asked.

The velvety head of his penis pressed between the globes of her ass and slid into the crease and nosed, gently insistent, upward into her body from behind. She caught her breath loudly and held it.

He paused, balanced above her, kissed her ear, squeezed her breasts, then slipped his hand under her and rubbed her sex with the heel of his hand until she released her shuddering breath and began to rock against his hand, gasping, begging. Then he resumed his motion, slipping inside her, parting the relaxed muscle, and when she had adjusted to accommodate his solid thickness in her forbidden place, he went further, a long way down inside. She groaned with the tension and the unexpected, darkly erotic feelings it aroused in her, unlike anything she’d ever imagined she could feel.

He rose a bit, pulling back, and she relaxed again. He reversed suddenly and pressed in anew, reached all the way inside her and claimed her, taking her last bit of privacy, her last vestige of virginity surrendered to him. Buried in her, his full testicles pressed against her rounded, tensed buttocks, he wrapped her in his body and held her tightly, molding her to him. She relaxed into him, her flesh pulling his deeper, wanting it to burn her, a feeling that she never knew until now that she craved.

Then he began to take her, thrusting slow and deep, filling her in a way she could not even begin to resist. Her body writhed against him like a wraith, her movements feeling out of her control, possessed by his spirit and his flesh, her ass pressing upward, meeting and welcoming his gloriously hard cock, which split her afresh with each powerful thrust of his hips. Pain welled and ebbed constantly, alternating with a taut, warm, bursting pleasure that made her light-headed, until she did not know what she was feeling, each wave more intense than the last.

Then he thrust deeper than she thought possible, she felt him graze her core, and she screamed, her body convulsing as she felt something inside her let go suddenly, as if a knot had abruptly come undone. Thick streams of steamy liquid burst from her inner depths, her own molten lava, emptying itself through her cunt, coursing down her legs and pooling on the bed beneath their bodies. She collapsed, gasping with the release, and he fell with her, lay beside her, still buried inside.

“I know you now,” he said softly after a bit. “And you are mine.”

She nodded mutely, biting her lip to stop the shaking.

“And there’s more.”

“What…What could there possibly be after this?”

For answer, he rolled her upon her back and …