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Mike leaned down to kiss her again and started stroking in and out slowly. At first Becca got lightheaded until she adjusted to his size and the pleasure she received from him. His chest was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his heart pounded as he started driving deeply into Becca, stretching her and feeling the tightness of her pussy against the skin of his cock. He licked his finger and reached down to caress the top of her pubis and rub against her clit.
Becca reached up to push him away and told him to lie down. “I’m tired of this. If we’re gonna do this right, let’s just fuck.”
She straddled him and he grasped her hips and watched as she lowered herself onto his large cock. She picked up her legs, letting him get into her as deeply as possible. Mike closed his eyes and moaned.
Her hands dragged against his chest as she rode him. “Oh damn. Fuck me Mike. Let me feel you explode inside of me! I need it!” Her words empowered him and he furiously grabbed her hips and slammed into her without care. She flailed, trying to keep control as he forced himself deeply into her over and over. As the heat and friction of their sex heated up she seemed to float into a state of bliss. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his chest as her ass slapped against his flexing legs. Mike’s hands couldn’t grope her body enough as they grabbed and pulled at her with a desperate search for something to hold onto. Becca leaned forward and Mike grabbed the cheeks of her ass and pounded up into her.
Becca felt the speed quicken and saw how hard Mike was breathing so she put her finger in his mouth and felt him tense, shiver, and stop. She tightened her inner muscles hard and felt him explode with a cry. The force lifted her up as again and again she felt his spurts come out. Becca’s eyes closed and she came, deeply, soothingly mixing the juices of their desires. He felt her flexing inside and her vaginal walls caress him as her orgasm flowed from within her. The slow glide had stopped and she felt both full of his essence and her own fulfillment as they cuddled together. She played with his chest hairs as she lay on top of him.
After a time, they got up because he needed to go. As Mike stood there fixing himself and combing his hair, he noticed some pictures on her nightstand. They were of a military man. On closer examination he noticed a half dozen pictures in the room of the same guy. Trying not to be alarmed Mike asked, “Who are these pictures of?”
“Oh, these are of my father. I haven’t seen him in ages. He and my mom were married in Vietnam a long time ago and we haven’t seen him for about 15 years. We moved here about 10 years ago. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Mike said. “But these are pictures of my dad!”
The Infatuation
It was an average night for Scott. He was standing there naked, except for his Bugs Bunny slippers; listening to “Weird” Al Yankovic’s Greatest Hits; drinking a Dr. Pepper while eating peanut butter, jelly, and sardine sandwiches; with a pair of binoculars focused on the other high-rise apartments across from his studio in New York.
As he scanned the building he saw various windows with their lights on, some with the shades only partially drawn. Some people never think that some sick bastard would peek into their lives.
In one room he saw a man and a woman snuggling on a couch in front of the TV to watch a movie. It looked like Sleepless in Seattle. In another room a woman was making a banana split in the kitchen. She was dripping chocolate syrup onto 3 scoops of ice cream melting on a woman’s crotch. But where was she going to put the banana? Oh, it goes in there. He’d have to come back to this one later. On the 32nd floor there was Mr. Adbul having sex with his secretary—bent over a desk, going at it. Who’d have thought he was gay? Then there was the regular Thursday show in Mr. Johnson’s room. He’d dress up like a farmer and have sex with a chicken.
He saw a light go on in an apartment. The curtains were open slightly and he zoomed in with his high-powered binoculars to see the figure of a woman. She turned on the light in her bedroom. She was gorgeous. Long dark brown hair pinned up in a bun that fell slowly down her shoulders as she undid the barrette in her hair. He reached over to get another bite of his sandwich and gazed through his binoculars to see her unbuttoning her blouse.
“Thank you!” he thought to himself as he turned on the vacuum cleaner with that furry attachment on the end. With every button she undid with her long red fingernails he got more and more excited. She let her blouse hang open revealing her black lace brassiere and lifted her long muscular leg up onto her bed to unsnap her red garter belt. (Oh how Scott loved garter belts, especially red ones.) Then she slowly slinked off her black silk stockings. He had to see more. This was truly a great night. He took a big drink of Dr. Pepper, belched loudly then stared back into the binoculars.
Scott’s eyes were transfixed. He was truly mesmerized by this woman. She turned around and tossed aside her blouse. Then she unzipped the side of her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Coldness crept through Scott’s body because his dangling appendage had risen and was pressing against the ice-cold glass of his window. He had to meet this woman. Maybe he could find out her room number and send her a bouquet of flowers to thank her for the show. Her back was towards him as she unsnapped the front of her bra and set it on the end of her large brass bed. Every minute seemed like an eternity as his anticipation grew. When she pulled down her silky red panties and let them slide down her legs he grabbed his hardness, trying to control his urges.
When she turned towards the window Scott gasped, dropping his sandwich to the floor, which knocked his soda all over his slippers because standing in front of him was an extremely beautiful man. A rather well endowed man at that.
The Afterglow
The night was hot, intensely hot. The soft rock station in the valley was playing Boyz II Men and a cool breeze blew in through the open hotel window. Sally and Eugene lay on the bed smoking cigarettes and drinking margaritas. He rolled over, scratched his balls, farted, and then slowly stroked her hair.
“That was intense!”
“It sure was.”
They’d just had one of those sexual encounters that diaries and porno movies are made from. The whips and handcuffs were scattered across the floor with their clothes, some Jell-O molds, cooking oil, a double-sided dildo, rubber chickens, and puppets.
“Wow, I’ve never had that much fun honey. You are such an incredible woman.”
“What are you talking about? You are the greatest lover a woman could ever want. You’re a real man—big in every way, strong and handsome. You’re such a stud that I never want to share you with another woman. I don’t care how badly they want you or what they offer you. You’re mine! No other man can satisfy me like you can. They’re all amateurs compared to you!”
“Tell me more.”
“Fuck you stubby! This sweet-talking bullshit’s gonna cost you extra. Now give me my $300. I’ve gotta get back to my street corner before my pimp beats my ass!”
The Dance
The club was alive with the rhythms of the music and the pulsing base. It was a hot Friday night and the place was packed and jumping. Vincent and Beth wound their way to the bar and ordered a couple drinks when Vincent spotted Sandra at the end of the bar with her friends.
Sandra was a stunning woman with the stature of a supermodel—tall, lean, but beautifully curved. Vincent was a rock—muscular, good-looking, confident and well endowed in many areas. He never let Sandra’s beauty intimidate him like other men did, which is why she adored him. Their tumultuous, deeply sexual relationship went on for over a year until he finally gave in and moved in with her. It ended badly when she found her two friends trying to get him into a threesome, and she didn’t believe that he’d refused.
She hadn’t gotten over him and the past month had been tough. Her other men were so typical and she missed the way Vincent made her feel so alive. They’d seemed destined to be together.
Sandra asked him to dance and he agreed. There are some men that know how to arouse a woman while dancing and to his credit, Vincent knew how. As the music started Sandra led Vincent to the floor for a dance, a slow dance. He’d brought Beth to the club but everyone knew he and Sandra had a past. The music was slow and the lights dim, perfect. At first they were cautious but soon they clutched each other tightly.
