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By Quinn_McMullen. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Story Recap

I’m Dan, a senior majoring in mechanical engineering. I needed two general education requirements to complete my degree, at a university in the Chicago area. It’s a cold January, on campus. I was able to enroll in an English literature class and Dr. Martin’s Sociology 369 Human Sexuality course, for the second semester.

On the first day of class, we learned about male and female orgasms. Dr. Martin allowed students to submit a standard analysis and reading notes or to provide an alternative assignment. The first alternative assignment was to masturbate either alone or with an observer and report on our experience.

Hannah, a coed was sitting in class next to me. I asked to be her partner. While we were trying to get comfortable with one another, we ended up having sex.

As I sat with Hannah at dinner, I had so many questions I wanted to ask her, but she started off.

She looked me in the eye, “So you’re what? Twenty two? Twenty three?

"Twenty two.”

“I’m twenty one. So, I have to say that I am not normally that aggressive. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I thought it was wonderful.”

Hannah nodded, “I’m sure you did, but I’m not sure what happened. I had every intention in the world of sitting there with you, reading until dinner. And then.” She averted her gaze, then looked back into my eyes, “Then I just wanted you. I can’t explain it. I’ve never started anything with a guy before. It has always been the guy coming on to me.”

“I really didn’t mind. It was definitely a gift. Guys often leave a gal frustrated because they can’t work up the nerve to initiate things. Especially when the gal is as gorgeous as you.”

Hannah reached out and touched my hand, "Ah, thanks! Dan, it’s okay. I guess I’m just trying to understand my actions. It was so out of character for me.”

“Maybe you’re comfortable with me. I hope, anyway?”

She laughed, “Undoubtedly. You’re a really nice guy.” She released my hand, “No, more than that. I know we just met, but I feel like you care about me as a person. I just hope that by being the initiator, I haven’t made you not like me.”

“Hannah, I would never think that. You are self-confident, that’s all. You’re very respectful and sensitive. You weren’t pushy at all.”

“See, that’s the thing. I’ve never really been all that self-confident. Certainly not when it comes to sex.”

“How much sex have you,” I stopped myself. “I’m sorry. That’s not polite for me to ask.”

"No, I’m okay with talking to you about it. There was my date for the senior prom. Spring semester freshman year I had a boyfriend for a couple of weeks. Probably had sex two or three times with him. Sophomore year I had sex a couple of more times. Once over the summer. Once with Jeff last semester. Altogether, I’ve probably had sex less than ten times in my entire life. Not counting Sterling.”

“Sterling?” I was puzzled.

“Sterling is my chrome vibrator.” Hannah explained. “Until today, only Sterling could reliably bring me to orgasms. Today was the first time someone not named Sterling, gave me an orgasm. How about you?”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m promiscuous, but I’ve had sex a lot more than that. It was always in a relationship. Let’s see, I’ve been intimate with five girlfriends. This was the first time I had sex with someone on the first day I met them.”

“Same here. I hope you didn’t mind.”

“Do I in any way look like I didn’t have the time of my life? Not at all. It was amazing. Maybe it was a desire to try out some of the things we learned in class.”

Hannah smiled, “Well you tried out something you learned. Did you rub my g spot?”

“Yeah. It was all wrinkly.” I added. “Nothing like a good hands-on lab project.”

“I was already cumming and then that sent me into orbit. Holy shit.” Hannah exclaimed.

“As an observer, that was pretty cool. I obviously ‘pressed your button’, right?” I gloated.

"Observer? Dan, you did that to me. You were my lover. Come to think of it, you propped me up so you could screw me like that dildo in the film.”

“I did.” I proudly admitted.

“That was quite creative.” She marveled.

“Thanks.” I grinned.

We ate in silence for several minutes. It wasn’t the least bit awkward though.

Hannah stopped eating, “Normally I would try to fill silence. I don’t feel like I have to. It’s like we’re two old married people that are completely comfortable with each other.”

I stopped eating, “You’re right. I don’t know very much about you, but it’s like I’ve known you a long time.”

She nodded and continued eating. Another minute of silence passed.

I reached out and touched her hand, “Do you believe in fate?”

“I haven’t given it much thought.” She wondered where this was going.

“I mean, what are the odds that I would have to sit next to you, you would ask me to be your partner, and we would hit it off so well?”

“Look it, Dan. I’m not a religious person. I’m sure there is a perfectly good probability that that would happen.”

I nodded, “Okay, but the odds are not that high.”

“That two random college students sitting next to one another would become friends, partners, and lovers? It think they are very high. That those two people would be you and me, that’s just the universe rolling the dice.” She squelched my sentimentality.

She was right, but the thought was disappointing. I pulled my hand back.

Hannah grabbed my hand, “Dan, I feel like I just burst a bubble on you.”

“Yeah. Maybe. A little. I had the thought that maybe someone was looking out for us and;”

“If it makes you feel any better, “ she interrupted; “I could very well be wrong. I agree that it is very cool that you sat down next to me. Whatever force in the universe made that happen, I’m very grateful. Done eating?”

“Yeah.”

To avoid temptation, we agreed to study together in the library. About nine we headed to Hannah’s room. The cold and wind had eased a bit, making it easier to talk.

Once outside, Hannah took my hand, “How should we decide who goes first?”

“I don’t have a problem going first.”

Hannah laughed, “I’m kind of excited. I’ve never seen a guy get himself off.”

“I guess that’s a reason Dr. Miller said we could have an observer.”

I held the door for her when we got to her dorm. Inside her room I took off my jacket.

Hannah stopped to watch me, “This feels very clinical again. Could I undress you?”

“Sure.”

Hannah came over to me and put her hands behind my neck, “Maybe some mood-setting would help too.” She went on tip-toe and kissed me, “Yes. That’s what we need.” She turned on her stereo. In a couple seconds, Simple Minds was playing ‘Don’t you Forget About Me’.

She pulled me to her bed, sat down, and pulled me down with her, “Much better.”

We lay side-by-side, exploring each other’s mouth. I finally pulled her on top of me so I could hold her ass cheeks. She seems to love having her ass caressed.

After several minutes of necking I spoke into her mouth, “I think I’m ready.”

“I feel something.” She said with a horny wink. Her mix tape was now playing Rick Astley, singing ‘Never Gunna Give You Up’. I’m guessing this was Hannah’s mood music for when she pleasured herself. But that was her business. I just decided to enjoy the moment.

Hannah rolled off me and I stood up. I pulled my shirt off and dropped my jeans, standing there in my partially tented boxers.

“Ready?”

She smiled and I let my boxers fall to my ankles, flipping them across the room with a flick of my foot. I slowly stroked my tumescent cock.

Hannah stood up, “I think I promised to let you see me naked to help get you aroused.”

“You did.” I recalled.

“Why don’t you sit on the bed and let me give you something to get aroused about.”

I climbed up to the headboard and placed a pillow behind my back. Hannah began a little bump and grind strip tease. I pulled on my cock to firm it up. By now her mix tape was playing Tears for Fears, singing ‘Everybody Wants To Rule the World’ with its sultry beat.

She turned away from me and pulled her shirt off. She swiveled her jean-clad hips, then kicked off her shoes. Hannah loved to dance and it’s clear she was very good at it. Somehow her socks went flying. She stepped up onto the bed and stood above me, one leg on either side.

She placed her hands on the wall to balance herself and then placed her foot on my cock, “Let me rub that for you.”

I wouldn’t call it rubbing, but she did move her foot up and down on my shaft. It wasn’t exactly effective and soon she was back standing on the floor. She turned away and dropped her jeans to the floor. Hannah flipped them aside with her foot, then climbed back up on the bed. Standing above me in her bra and panties was more arousing. She stepped forward so that her crotch was inches from my face.

I leaned forward, pressed my nose into her crotch, and took a deep breath, “God, you smell good.” Her pheromones made a beeline to my cock.

Hannah stepped back on the floor and removed her bra and panties, “Sorry, I’m not very creative with a strip tease.”

“I appreciate the creativity” I encouraged her.

“Thanks. How about if I just stand here in all my nakedness?”

“That works.”

I was rock hard now and it was easy to stroke myself. I was thinking I needed some lube when Hannah crawled up on the bed and got very close to my cock.

She smiled, “I’m observing.”

I laughed.

Hannah ran her hand down my thigh, “Perhaps you should position yourself so that I can see your asshole. I need to know if it contracts when you cum.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I slouched down at her headboard. I placed my feet so that my legs were spread  out and knees bent; and she had a good view of my anus. She was kneeling in front of me. I licked my stroke hand to provide some lubrication. Now her stereo was playing A-Ha. The cut was ‘Take On Me’.

Hannah said, “I can provide some saliva.” She leaned forward dribbled some spit on the head of my cock.

I smiled, “That’s helpful.”

“But probably not enough.” She grabbed my stroke hand and placed her mouth on my cock, sucking away.

“I think that defeats the purpose of the assignment.”

She came off for a moment, “I don’t care.”

Hannah soon had my entire shaft wet with saliva. She stroked me with her hands while sucking and churning the head in her mouth. The stereo filled the room with ‘Shout’ from Tears For Fears. 

When I groaned my appreciation, I felt her finger at my ass. I think she had her juices on her finger because she slipped right in. She found my prostate.

“Oh god, Hannah. Hannah. Cumming. I’m cumming.” The stereo rumbled; “Shout, shout, let it all out”.

Everything sped up, her mouth, her fingers rubbing in my ass. I grabbed my knees and pulled my legs toward me. The point of no return approached and my world narrowed to my cock and ass. My body started quaking uncontrollably. Hannah’s eyes were locked in on mine as she swallowed everything I shot. I threw my head back as my orgasm continued. All I could feel was her fingers rubbing my prostate and her mouth on my cock, churning, sucking, licking. I tried to say something, but a croaking sound came out.

Suddenly my cock was beyond sensitive, “Please.” I released my knees and held her face, “Please.”

“Stop?” She asked for clarification.

“Yes.”

Hannah climbed up and lay down next to me. She kissed me with closed lips. I grabbed her face and probed my tongue into her salty mouth.

She eased off, “That’s cool that you don’t mind kissing me. I had a guy that wouldn’t kiss me after he came in my mouth. By the way, I used what they did in the movie in class. It works.”

“Wow, Does it ever.” I blurted out.

“Your whole body was shaking.” She told me.

“Thank you, Hannah. That was amazing. If you let me recover for a couple minutes, I would love to return the favor.”

“Offer accepted,” Hannah said as she swung her leg over me and stared kissing me again.

After a few minutes of necking I was ready to go, “Why don’t you lie back and see what I can do for you.”

Something told me to hold off on straight licking. I decided to kiss her ear lobes and then went for her nipples. I licked my way across her stomach and stopped at her pubes to breathe in her scent.

Her clit was prominent at the top of her slit and her inner labia extended out a little. She had shaved her labia. I lapped up her juices, then moved to her clit.

I looked up at Hannah. Her eyes were locked in on me.

She whispered, “Maybe not straight, constant licking. Ease up a little from time to time so I don’t get numb.”

I followed her advice. Eurythmics was filling the room with a hypnotic spell from ‘Sweet Dreams Are Made of These.’

Hannah grabbed her nipples and was rolling them, “Oh, Dan. Oh.” I assumed that was a signal that she was cumming. I probed into her vagina and found her g spot.

“Ah.” Hannah’s vagina started contracting. She arched her back and I could hear her panting. She forcibly pressed my forehead away from her crotch. I kept rubbing her g spot.

Then Hannah wrapped her legs around my head and began bucking her hips. I took this as some kind of signal to stop.

Slowly her body relaxed, “Oh my god. Dan, come up here.”

I climbed up next to her.

“That was so nice. Let’s climb in under the covers. I want to snuggle with you.”

As I held her, I whispered, “I can see why people sleep with each other. This is cozy.”

“Very cozy.” I concurred.The mix tape faded to  Sinéad O'Connor sang ‘Nothing Compares 2 U.’  I faded to slumber.

As I emerged from sleep, I sensed a warm body next to me. When I opened my eyes, it was dark. I saw a lighted alarm clock across the room. I tried to place where I was and then I remembered. Hannah.

When I emerged from sleep again, the room was light. I lay still, savoring the moment. We lay like spoons. My arm was under Hannah’s head. Her ass was pressed up against me and I had a bit of morning wood. My other hand was on her hip. She felt so silky and soft.

After a bit of time, Hannah stirred.

She rolled over, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Hannah.”

“Is this one of those mythical morning woodies?”

“Not mythical. I wake up with one on a regular basis.”

“So, it isn’t because of me.”

“No, but I have to say that sleeping with you is just short of heavenly.”

“Agreed. Shall we start our day?”

“I could use a shower.”

“So could I. I wish I could take one with you, but the other girls on the floor might be either offended or jealous.”

Over breakfast, Hannah asked, “So, what do you think about Elizabeth Bennet?”

“Elizabeth Bennet? Do I know her?”

“From Pride and Prejudice?”

“Oh. Yes.” I remembered. “ Kind of early in the book, but I have to say that the situation that her and her sisters are in is horrible.”

“Things were not good for women back in jolly old England. I think that’s the 1800s. Or anywhere else for that matter.”

“She sounds like someone I would like to know.” I said. “She seems smart, independent. She’s got a very strong will. Probably a lot like you.”

Hannah smiled, “Thanks. And you’re still early in the book. What do you think of Jane Austen’s writing?”

“Love it. So lyrical.”

On Friday afternoon, we finally got around to conducting our masturbation assignment. Here is what I wrote for Dr. Miller:

My observer was Hannah. She was also my partner as you will see.

I positioned myself on my bed so that my partner could observe me. I made sure my legs were such that she could see my anus. By mutual agreement, we were both naked so that I would be aroused by her body. Hannah has a beautiful body. I began pulling on my penis to get it hard. It did not take long given the goddess in front of me. Normally I would use saliva to lubricate myself, but my partner allowed me to use some of her vaginal juice as lubrication. It was much slicker and much more effective.

Once I was hard, I stroked myself in the usual manner, focusing on the head of my penis and the sensitive edge. I am circumcised and the scar is a little sensitive as well. My partner asked me to let her know when I was getting close. I focused on her charms and after several minutes, I felt my orgasm approaching. I let my partner know.

Hannah slipped two lubricated fingers into my anus and massaged my prostate just like the film we saw in class. The ensuing orgasm was one of the most intense experiences of my life. All my focus centered on my erection and my prostate. As I came, my body began shaking uncontrollably. I shot my load all over my chest. There were three distinct strings of cum, plus a smaller fourth string. Once I shot my load, I stopped stroking myself because of sensitivity, but my partner kept rubbing my prostate and the intense orgasm continued for about 30 seconds.

Unlike a regular orgasm, this was much more of a whole-body orgasm. The shaking lasted as long as Hannah rubbed my prostate.

Afterwards I was exhausted. We both tasted my semen. It was a little salty and a little musky. My partner thought it tasted a little like mushrooms.

Here is Hannah’s submission:

I positioned myself on the bed with my legs spread so that my partner (Dan) could observe me. I have a fantasy that I use to arouse myself. I imagine kissing a movie star. Dan said he would sit in for the movie star. Plus, he was naked and in person! He let me run my fingers through his chest hair and hold his penis. After we had been kissing for a while, I thought I was ready. My partner moved back and I began rubbing my clit in my usual way small, quick

By Quinn_McMullen. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It was Chicago, in the mid 1980s. Those were very different times. Fashion and language were different. Technology was quite different. We didn’t have the internet, and cable television was just becoming widespread. Pubic hair was uncut & often not trimmed.. The only sexual fear for straight people was getting pregnant; and the pill mostly took care of that.

I was a senior and I needed both a literature class and social science class to complete my general education requirements to graduate. Because of my class standing, I was finally going to be able to register early in the cycle. I filled out several possible registration cards, and waited dutifully in the line. When I got to the registration window, I was pleasantly surprised to find that SOC 369 Human Sexuality was still open. I registered for the class and hoped it was everything the rumors made it out to be.

As the Spring Semester started, I tried to find out if I knew anyone in SOC 369. None of my engineering classmates were interested. And I was disappointed to find that none of my female friends had registered for it either. It had the potential to be less than fun. But I remembered the stories about the course lots of discussion of sex, sex, and sex. It couldn’t be that bad.

The class was scheduled for Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. The first class was on a Thursday and I arrived ten minutes early for the first class. The room was already packed. On the front desk were two piles of papers with a sign that said, “Take one of each.” One was the syllabus and the other was a list of assignments with details and due dates.

I looked around the packed room and saw a seat next to a pretty blonde. “Is this seat taken?”

“It looks like it’s perfect for you." She chuckled.

I held out my hand, "Hi, I’m Dan.”

She smiled sweetly, “I’m Hannah.”

A woman in her forties entered the room and began walking around talking to students. I assumed this was the famous Dr. Miller. She was tall and thin with a nice figure. She was professionally dressed in a skirt, blouse, and blazer. The skirt came to just above the knee and showed some shapely, bare legs. She started working the room.

When she got to us, she said, “Hannah, good to see you again. Did you have a good winter break?”

“I did Dr. Miller.”

Dr. Miller turned to me and extended her hand, “A new person in my class.”

I stuck out my hand, “Pleased to meet you Dr. Miller. Dan McDevitt.”

“A senior. Mechanical engineering major. Wow! I’m impressed." She chuckled at herself, "I try to learn about my students beforehand. It isn’t hard if you actually care about people.” She looked at her watch, “Show time.”

Dr. Miller walked to the front of the room, “Let’s get started. My name is Dr. Shannon Miller. This class is S O C 3 69, Human Sexuality. If you aren’t registered, you will have to leave. No auditing.”

Two guys got up and headed toward the door.

She continued, “It isn’t that I want to be a hard ass, but if I didn’t have that limitation, this place would be standing room only. If you are curious how the course was numbered, I asked for it and there was no objection until I was teaching it for three semesters. By then it was too late to change it.”

There were some scattered laughs and giggles.

“We’ll skip the usual introductions. I think I know everyone. If you don’t know your classmates, I think you will quickly learn about them.”

“As the title suggests, this is a course in human sexuality. I must tell you that this class will get very graphic at times. We will examine the wide range of human sexual activity, from straight sex to some of the kinkiest stuff you can imagine. This may be uncomfortable for some of you. As a class, we can overcome this discomfort by keeping our minds open, being respectful of each other, and sharing our thoughts. Given the number of smiles, that sounds like what a lot of you signed up for.

"I expect everyone to act as an adult. I don’t want to hear titters and I don’t want to hear anyone shaming anyone else. Respect is our watch word. If you cannot act as a mature adult and show respect to everyone in the room, then I will ask you to leave. If you do not voluntarily leave, I will have campus security remove you. I don’t fuck around with any of that. And yes, I have a potty mouth. I want everyone to feel safe here. This class is like Las Vegas. If someone shares some intimate part of their life, I expect it to stay in this room. Am I clear?

Dr. Miller looked each of us in the eye, "Good. Does anyone want to leave?” Again she looked around.

“Very well. I will also use a lot of visual aids photos and film. This is not pornography. Since this is a liberal arts college, I am a strong believer that this is a time for you to explore and learn about yourself. I cannot require that you engage in sexual activity. That would be unethical and for many people, immortal. I will provide alternative assignments that you are free to undertake. In the assignment sheet I provide details on how you can fulfill both regular and alternative assignments. For example, after today’s class, you may decide to experiment with self-love. Essentially, in the privacy of your room you can masturbate and then report on your observations. If you would like to have an observer present, that is also an option. Any questions?”

“Seeing none, we’ll get started.” She went to the front of the class and pulled down a screen. She flipped on an overhead projector and placed a slide on it, “So here is a very simple question: Why do we want to have sex? Danielle.”

“Because it makes us feel good.”

“Yes, it does. Brian.”

“We have a drive to reproduce.”

Dr. Miller walked to the side of the room, “One of our strongest instincts. Sarah.”

“Because we are attracted to the other person and we want to be intimate with them.”

“Ah. Intimacy. Another strong drive. Hannah.”

“Orgasms.”

Dr. Miller laughed, “Yes. The elephant in the room. Today we will discuss orgasms.” She put up another slide, “So what is the average time it takes for a man to reach orgasm if he is masturbating? Dan.”

“Five minutes.”

“Not that long. Greg?”

“Four?”

“Almost. Rich?”

He laughed, “Maybe three?”

“Good guess! Three minutes. So how long does it take a woman to reach orgasm if she is masturbating? Bridget?”

“I’m guessing. Four minutes?”

“Yes, good guess. So what can we conclude from those two numbers. Elizabeth.”

“That men and women are pretty close to having the same sexual response if they are stimulated properly.”

“Excellent! If you are gay, lesbian, or a virgin, you don’t have to answer this next question. By a show of hands, how many of you know that your partner reaches orgasm during straight sex? Penis in vagina sex.”

Of the 25 people in the room, about 18 hands went up.

“Please leave your hands up. We have ten men and eight women. Now, how many of You reach orgasm during straight sex?”

All the men left their hands up, but only one woman left their hand up.“

"Very interesting. So ladies, the men think you are having an orgasm when you really aren’t. Am I reading that correctly?”

Several female heads were nodding.

“Why is that? Hannah.”

“We fake it.”

Dr. Miller shook her head, “We fake it. That’s kind of sad. Why? Rich.”

“The woman doesn’t want to make us feel bad.”

“Yeah. Studies have shown that men’s egos are easily bruised when it comes to sex. Some women also want to boost their partner’s ego. Why else? Anne.”

“To get it over with.”

There was laughter around the room.

Dr. Miller continued, “You laugh, but I think Anne is not making that up.” Anne shook her head. “I think you will find that sometimes straight sex is not pleasant for many women, mostly because their male partner doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

“Anyone else? Roxane.”

“To avoid being shamed and being thought to be frigid.”

“That is a big one. By the way, no woman is frigid. That is a myth developed by men to compensate for their poor sexual performance. One last item. Sometimes a woman fakes an orgasm for non-sexual reasons such as trying to cement a relationship, become someone’s girlfriend or fiancée. Questions or comments?”

Dr. Miller looked around the room, “I find all this very interesting. Gentlemen, do you know how to tell if your partner is actually having an orgasm or faking it?”

I shook my head. I thought I knew, but now I had my doubts. I looked around and the other guys looked just as puzzled.

Dr. Miller said, “Don’t be embarrassed guys. You’ve taken the first step to becoming a much better lover. Carlos, are you ready?”

I just realized that there was a guy at the back of the room manning a film projector, “Yes, Dr. Miller.”

She pointed to a guy near the door, “Sam?” He nodded. “Yes, Sam. Can you hit the lights?”

Sam killed the lights and a film began to roll.

The title flashed up, “Orgasmic Response in Human Females.” The first scene had a bunch of co-eds walking and talking on a college campus somewhere. A female narrator said, “One of the most misunderstood aspects of human sexuality is the orgasmic response of human females. This film will briefly examine this topic.”

The scene changed to a couple making out. “It should be noted that approximately five to ten percent of women are incapable of having an orgasm. This is often due to some physical limitation.”

A graphic came up, “There are two types of female orgasm: vaginal and clitoral. The first, vaginal orgasm, is described by women as starting deeper in their body and elicits a full body response. These types of orgasms are caused by objects in the vagina stimulating the walls, Gräfenberg spot or G spot, and cervix.”

An anatomical diagram came up. “The G spot is located on the anterior wall of the vagina. When a woman is standing, it can be thought of as the upper side of the vagina.” A red arrow pointed to a spot on the diagram, “In its relaxed state, the G spot is smooth. As a woman becomes more aroused, it becomes wrinkled. The G spot is best stimulated digitally with one or two fingers using a ‘come hither’ motion.”

A photo of a woman’s vulva came on the screen, “Clitoral orgasms have a more localized reaction and are caused by stimulation of the clitoris and clitoral hood area.” Red arrows appeared on the screen, “Clitoral orgasms are more intense, but are shorter in duration than a vaginal orgasm.

"There are several signs that a woman is experiencing an orgasm. Please note that not all women display all these signs.”

A photo of a light skinned vulva was displayed, “First, blood will rush to a woman’s skin and in light skinned women, this will be seen as flushed skin. Blood will also rush to a woman’s clitoris, vulva, and vagina. Often the clitoris will become engorged with blood and may extend out of the clitoral hood.”

The screen shifted to a photo of a lovely pair of breasts with large, erect nipples, “Second, a woman’s nipples will be erect. Most women experience pleasure when their nipples are stimulated either orally or manually. Although not all women experience hard nipples during an orgasm, most do. Typically a woman’s nipples are hard, erect, and sensitive. In all cases, an orgasm will increase a woman’s heart rate. Often to between 160 and 210 beats per minute.

"Let’s observe an actual female orgasm. This will be a clitoral orgasm.”

The screen shifted to a camera angle that was directly between a young, naked woman’s legs. She had a nice bush, but her labia were shaved. The focus was on her vulva, but the rest of her body was visible in soft focus. She was small-breasted and had applied a small vibrator directly to her clit. Her vagina was slightly open and juices ran across her perineum.

“This woman’s orgasm is about to begin. I direct your attention to her vaginal opening, her anus, her nipples, and her face.”

The woman began panting, her eyes closed, and her mouth took on the classic O shape. Her pelvic muscles began rhythmically contracting and you could clearly see her vagina and anus pulsing out a steady rhythm. Her nipples were hard and she reached up and pulled hard on one of them.

“During her orgasm, all her focus is on the stimulation being directed to her clitoris. She is unaware that her breathing has increased and her eyes are closed. Most women are incapable of vocalizing anything during orgasm. It should be noted that after orgasm, a woman’s clitoris is very sensitive.”

“Now let’s observe a vaginal orgasm.”

Once again, the screen was filled with a woman’s vulva. Someone was fucking her with a smooth dildo. The angle was upward, striking the top of her vagina. She was rolling both her nipples.

“Once again, this woman’s orgasm is about to begin. Observe her vagina, nipples, and face.”

As the orgasm began, her eyes practically popped out of her head. She let out a long groan, mouth open. You could see her vagina contracting on the dildo. She came for probably about a half a minute. And then the film was over.

Dr. Miller said, “Sam, can you flip on the lights? So what did we observe? Dan.”

“In both cases, the woman’s vagina was contracting. On the first one, so was her anus.”

“Good observation. Actually, her anus was contracting on the second one, but your view was blocked. I don’t want to say every time since life has no absolutes, but in at least 999 times out of a thousand, the woman’s pelvic muscles will contract during orgasm. Those contractions affect both the vagina and the anus. What else? Sam.”

“Neither woman was talking or saying anything.”

“Let me ask one of our female colleagues why. Hannah.”

“Because you are completely focused on the pleasure. When you’re cumming, you don’t have to or want to say a thing.”

“Great point. A sure-fire way to know a woman is faking an orgasm is that she is very vocal. Some of you look surprised. Gents, how many of you say something when you’re ejaculating?” She looked around, “No one. Why is that? Dave.”

“My mind focuses on what’s happening with my cock.”

There was some laughter.

Dr. Miller said, “A little crude, but I like that term   cock.” She said it again with emphasis, “Cock. What else did you observe about the orgasms? Brian.”

“Dr. Miller, with the second one, I think that was a dildo, the dildo was at a different angle like it was hitting the top of her vagina instead of going all the way in.”

“Excellent. The narrator mentioned something called the Gräfenberg spot or G spot. That is on the roof of the vagina and the dildo was striking it. Is anyone familiar with the g spot? Roxane.”

“My boyfriend took your class last semester. He loves to rub mine.”

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

“Andy.”

“I’m glad to hear my class has had a positive impact on your life.”

“Life changing Dr. Miller. Mind-blowing.”

Dr. Miller chuckled, “We’ll learn more about the g spot next class. Carlos, are you ready with the next film?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Sam, if you please.”

The lights went out and the screen lit up. “Orgasmic Response in Human Males”.

The screen was filled with four guys in athletic attire walking across a field. A man began narrating, “This film will examine the orgasmic response in human males. Ejaculation is often associated with orgasm in males. While these events often occur simultaneously, they are distinct and separate events. Orgasm is characterized by pelvic contractions, intense pleasure, and release. Ejaculation is the expulsion of semen from the penis. While rare, some men can experience non-ejaculatory orgasms.”

The screen was filled with side-by-side pictures of penises, one uncircumcised and the other circumcised. “While each penis is different, they come in two distinct varieties, circumcised and uncircumcised. A circumcised penis has had the foreskin surgically removed. The absence of the foreskin has no impact on a male’s ability to reach orgasm.”

There was a close-up of a penis head. “The glans is the most sensitive area.” A red arrow appeared, “The crown of the glans or the edge is filled with countless nerve endings.” Another arrow appeared, “The frenulum is another sensitive area.”

Now there was an anatomy diagram, “The prostate gland is another source of pleasure. It can be accessed directly through the anus or massaged by pressing on the perineum.”

“Let’s observe an ejaculatory orgasm brought on by masturbation.”

The screen was filled with a guy stroking his erection. He had his legs up so that his ass was visible. I was surprised that they selected a smaller than average cock. Then I remembered that this was an academic film and not pornography.

“This man has been manually stimulating his penis. His orgasm is about to begin. Observe the pelvic contractions seen at the base of his shaft and at the anus.”

Sure enough, there were the contractions and almost simultaneously he let loose a string of cum that shot out of the picture.

“Oh!” Several of my classmates responded.

Two more shots of lesser amounts came forth. He stopped stroking, “The penis becomes very sensitive after orgasm and often cannot be touched.”

The screen shifted to another erection. This time a man was prone with his feet either side of his ass, “This man has manually brought himself to the edge of orgasm. A partner will now digitally stimulate his prostate.”

The guy stopped stroking and what looked like a female hand probed his asshole. She slipped two lubed fingers in and began moving.

“The prostate is a walnut sized gland located on the anterior wall of the rectum. This man’s orgasm is about to begin. Once again, observe the contractions at the base of his penile shaft and anus.”

The contractions began and this time the guy shot his load onto his chest. Four shots total. I

By HectorBidon. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The next morning’s sun found its way in through our porthole once again. We had sorted ourselves out somewhat during the night. I was on my side, tangled in a bit of sheet. She was on her side, tangled in a bit of blanket. I could just make out the pale tan lines on her bottom and her back.

We’d become cabin buddies of a different order. At the Jack-and-Ciara level. That’s probably what most people would have assumed all along, but I certainly hadn’t, and I didn’t think that she had either.

And yet, here we were.

I waited a while for her to wake up, but she didn’t. So I finally got up myself.

We’d just passed through the entrance in the seawall at Ensenada and were coming up to our docking site. The pilot, or maybe it was the captain himself, was standing on a little deck that jutted out from the side of the ship to joy-stick our massive vessel precisely up to the pier.

Molly was still in bed when I got back. She smiled and went to the bathroom, a little embarrassed to be still naked while I was already dressed. Her pubic hair, I noticed, was trim and attractive.

She came out wearing a towel and had her coffee. We checked the day’s schedule. She was delighted to discover that they’d transferred Mrs. Pendergast’s excursion ticket to me.

A little later that morning we went ashore. It was a strange sensation, stepping off the gangway into a foreign country. Somehow I expected every little thing to be different and exotic, but the first thing we encountered, sprouting up through a crack in the pavement, was a little tuft of grass. Nothing exotic at all, just plain old grass.

Our excursion van was heralded by a woman with a clipboard, a younger, more boisterous, Mexican Denise. There were three other couples in our group and a single unaccompanied woman about Ciara’s age. I took a seat next to the window with Molly beside me with the unaccompanied woman next to her. Her name was Meryl. This was her first real vacation since her divorce. She was really excited to be having such an adventure.

We drove through the streets of Ensenada, our guide giving us a bit of local color in her prettily accented English. The scene was at once familiar and strange: traffic and lane markings and stop lights just exactly like at home, but unintelligible store signs in unlikely colors painted directly on pastel stucco walls. Beyond the city were dusty, cactus-strewn hills not unlike the Catalina hinterland.

Our destination was a site called the Bufadora, a cleft in the rocky sea cliff where ocean waves sent up enormous geyser-like sprays. The sprays were so high that we got wet even at our vantage point fifty feet above the water.

The path back from the observation point was lined with gaudy souvenir shops, like the midway of a county fair. Meryl had tagged along with Molly and me. We stopped at one of the taco stands for lunch.

“So how did you guys meet?”

Molly didn’t volunteer an answer.

 "Just here on the cruise, actually,“ I said.

"Really? See, aren’t cruises great?” Molly gushed.

After lunch we went into one of the souvenir shops and Meryl asked our opinion about all the little nick-nacks she wanted to buy. When we got back to the van, I ended up sitting in the middle.

“The nicest thing.” she said. “is that every day you make new friends.”

We drove back through town, then out into the desert in a different direction to a picturesque winery. We sat around a table on a palm-shaded patio and sampled the different vintages. Meryl chatted on about Simi Valley and the cruise and her ex and the weather and the ship and the people she’d met. She got me to go into the little gift shop with her to help pick out a couple bottles.

Molly was quiet at dinner. I had to remind her that we’d made plans to see the comedy show with Meryl.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think I’ll go back to the room.”

Meryl was waiting in the forward theatre. She was sorry to hear about Molly’s headache and put her hand on my arm to convey her concern. The show turned out to be pretty adult-rated, pretty raunchy in fact. Meryl yucked it up

After the show she suggested we take a spin about the deck. The ship had set sail again and we were just passing the exposed wreck that lies up against the sea wall. Somehow Meryl managed to tuck herself inside my arm.

“Wouldn’t you just love to go dancing?” she cooed.

“I, uh,  Actually, I’ve kind of got to go now.”

“But the night is still young. Meryl rebutted. Let’s at least stop by my room first.”

“I’ve got to check on Molly.” I insisted

“We can open one of the tequilas.”

“Thanks, but,

"It’s just that, I was kind of hoping to get lucky tonight.”

Christ Almighty. A guy tries to be a gentleman. I didn’t need an etiquette book for this one. I finally managed to pry myself away,

When I got back to the room, Molly was in her pajamas, watching TV.

“Is your headache any better?” I asked.

She didn’t look up from the screen.

I sat on the chair and twisted around to see what she was watching. A travelogue of some sort.

“You didn’t miss much,” I said. “The show was kind of,”

But she leaned in closer to the screen to make it clear that I was interrupting her program. Something about the way the locals made their tortillas.

OK. I got the message. She didn’t like the fact that I’d gone to the show with Meryl. I went into the bathroom to pee. I’d only been trying to be polite to a fellow cruise member. Was that a crime? Molly had been there when we’d made the plans. I thought that she’d been trying to be friendly too. That we’d sort of taken Meryl under our wing.

I came out of the bathroom a minute later, and sat down on the chair again. The secret to the tortillas, apparently, had something to do with lime juice.

“I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight,” Molly said. In a sarcastic tone of voice. As if my presence was an imposition. As if she was sorry she’d ever offered to share the room in the first place.

I didn’t even bother to answer. I got undressed, then crawled up onto my side of the bed. Where else was I supposed to go? I got under the blanket and turned toward the bulkhead. A guy tries to be a gentleman. And this is what he gets.

I woke up first again, the next morning. I went up on deck. Did she really think that I’d found Meryl even the least bit attractive? She was a fellow shipmate, nothing more. I’d thought that we’d both been trying to be polite to her. Was that a crime?

I brought back coffee and a croissant, but Molly was still asleep. Or pretending to be. I banged around a little, but she didn’t budge. Finally I got fed up and left.

So here I was again, back to my usual routine, wandering down empty corridors, drifting up little-used gangways, poking around lonely corners where nobody else much ever cared to go. Doing what I probably would have been doing if I’d gotten my single in the first place.

I came back to the room around lunch time, but Molly wasn’t there. I wandered up to the pool. Denise was there, chatting with some people. She waved. Meryl was there, stalking about, but I managed to slip away before she saw me. But no Molly.

It was a long day. The ship had parked itself out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Or maybe the rest of the world really had blown itself up and they just hadn’t told us. I eventually ended up back in the little coffee shop at the tail end of the ship. The sky seemed a lot flatter though, the seagulls a lot more listless, my algorithms a lot less interesting. Finally I got up again and trudged back down into the labyrinth.

The casino was practically empty. The lower piano bar was closed. The little art gallery was still showing the same old photographs.

The gift shop was open. The same lady was behind the counter. What was it that Molly had asked to see? A necklace. It must have been, that one. The lady brought it out. A pair of crystalline dolphins on a slender silver chain. They sparkled in the light.

Molly still wasn’t in the room when I got back. This time our towel had been folded into a seal, sunning itself on the bedspread. I moved it a little closer to her pillow and arranged the necklace around its neck.

There were still a couple hours until dinner. I thought it might be better if I wasn’t there when she got back.

I got to dinner right on time. It was our last night on board, and the dining room was even more boisterous than usual.

“Where’s Molly?” asked Ciara.

“She had a little headache. She might not be joining us.”

Valentin our waiter was really joshing it up, angling for a big end-of-trip tip. He was just taking the drink orders when Molly appeared. She was wearing a pink skirt, a whitish blouse,,  and the necklace. Her eye caught mine as she made her way around the table, but quickly shot away again.

Ciara asked her how she was doing. The couple on my other side were there for once. Tom and somebody. He was in air conditioning and gave me the full rundown. It was too noisy for Molly and me to talk, but every time I looked, she was still wearing the necklace.

It being our last night, the waiters were going to put on a little show. Just after they passed out the dessert plates they went into a huddle near the service entrance. Molly leaned over.

“Do you want to go back to the room?”

We got up.

“Oh, are you guys going to the revue?” asked Ciara.

Molly replied in the louder voice you had to use to make yourself heard. But the room was beginning to quiet down in a hush, as the waiters were taking their places, and so the whole table heard what she said.

“Make-up sex.”

The table burst into laughter. Molly continued her way out of the room, and I just followed sheepishly behind her.

“Can you forgive me?” she asked as we got out into the hallway.

“For letting everybody know where we’re going?”

“For last night. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. It was my fault. It was all my fault.”

“The worst part is, we wasted a whole day,” I remorsed.

“We still have tonight.” She tried to assure me.

“Yeah. We still have tonight.” I agreed.

As soon as we got into the room we fell into each other’s arms.

“I love the necklace,” she murmured.

“It looks really nice on you.”

We kissed and shuffled toward the bed.

But my blood was pumping. I was thinking about our wasted day.

“Let’s do something first, want to? I pleaded. It’s our last night. Let’s get our money’s worth. Let’s go to the show! Let’s go dancing! Let’s shoot for that royal flush! The bed will still be here when we get back. But let’s make up for some of the things we didn’t do today. Let’s paint the ship red. Okay? Want to? C'mon! Hup hup!”

Jack and Ciara were surprised to see us at the theatre.

“That was quick,” Ciara said with a look of astonishment.

Molly blushed. I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

The review was Motown classics, the Supremes, the Four Tops. “You can’t hurry love, no you’ll just have to wait, The whole auditorium was singing along. The girls pulled Jack and me up from our seats to dance in the aisle. "Sugar pie, honeybunch, you know that I love you,

Afterwards, the night was balmy, perfect for a stroll on deck. We could see lights off in the distance, the rest of the world was still there after all! We ran into Meryl, wrapped in the arm of a dapper, middle-aged gentleman whose smile was just as smug as hers was. We exchanged pleasantries. She gave us both a little wink.

Molly, perhaps I m clueless. Did you have any idea that Meryl was going to try to hit on me? I had to ask.

Oh, my God! Molly stared at me. All day long, she was angling for you. I thought you were trying for a threesome, and my fake headache was me forcing you to choose one or the other.

What? I thought you and I were just trying to be hospitable; you know, so she d have some friends to socialize with.

Well, Molly confessed. I finally figured out that you were completely innocent, but it took me until late afternoon to dispel my worst presumptions.

I went to the show, because we told her we d both join her, there. I explained. When you were bedridden with a headache, I assumed it fell on me to go alone, even though I really didn t want to be away from you.

Ah, really? That s so sweet! Molly gushed. She gave me a deep kiss right there on the mezzanine. I assumed you went because you wanted another notch on your belt.  I m so, so sorry.

Well, when the performance ended, I said I had to head back to you. She did try every diversion. I passed on all of them. Then she flatly told me she was hoping to get lucky with me. I told her I definitely could not accommodate that, and I walked straight back to our room.

Oh, I was awful to you! Molly lamented. But I was also right about that slut s intentions, wasn t I? Molly paused, then added; When I finally got over my inner rage, I realized that you didn t come back smelling like cunt. Hell, you didn t even have lipstick smeared on your face.  This afternoon, I finally left my hiding spot, and saw you were heading to dinner, I went to the cabin and saw this beautiful necklace.  I literally cried. I don t deserve you. You don t deserve my juvenile drama. I d planned to skip the dinner, but when I saw the dolphin necklace, I had to come and grovel your forgiveness.

You know, Molly I paused. Perhaps I was too clueless, yesterday. Perhaps you were too presuming? Do you think we can both help to balance each other?

Oh, I love that! Yes, let s balance each other.

The nightclubs were hopping. We wound our way from one to the other, dancing one dance in each. But then we decided to forgo the casino and just head back to the cabin. And sure enough, the bed was still there, right where we’d left it.

We kissed. I ran my hands up along her sides, up inside her blouse. She undid my buttons and pulled open my shirt. I fiddled with her skirt and managed to slip it down over the swell of her hips. She unfastened my belt buckle and my button and my zipper. I slid my hands down inside her panties. She slid hers down inside my underpants. We pawed and shucked and kicked off everything that remained. And then she took off the very last thing that she was wearing, the crystalline necklace, and placed it carefully on the nightstand.

I backed her down onto the bed. I kissed the pretty spot where the necklace had been, and the spot next to that, and the spot next to that. She lay back and closed her eyes and let herself be kissed.

I settled myself down on top of her, stroking her full lovely body with my own, savoring her softness and her excitement, trying to fuse our unfortunate separateness into something more fulfilling. And somehow, in the midst of our kissing and our stroking, my penis must have slid up at just the right angle, and her hips must have been open to just the right degree, and we coupled, as adroitly as if that had been our conscious intention, as naturally as if we were two jungle cats whose lithe jungle bodies just instinctively knew how to fuck.

And somewhere in the midst of our coupling we sweetly came, but it was not so much a climax as just a sweet vista point along the way. For just as we hadn’t consciously willed our engagement, neither did we ever willfully disengage, but just eventually nestled more comfortably down beside each other, still caressing, still softly kissing, still sweetly fused.

The loudspeaker blasted us awake early the next morning. Our luggage needed to be out in the hallway for pickup by eight o'clock sharp!

Molly wriggled a bit deeper under the blanket. "Uh,” she groaned. “Just five more minutes.”

I remembered the look on her face, when had it been? just four days ago, when we first learned we might have to share the cabin together. She’d been just as uncertain as I had. But now it was hard to imagine any other arrangement. Her lying in bed beside me, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, leaving it up to me to keep track of the time, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

We hadn’t begun to pack yet, but we’d kept things fairly organized. I gave her a generous five minutes, and then I gave her a little nudge. “C'mon, sleepyhead. Up and at um.”

She groaned, but she dragged herself out of bed. We were both still naked. I slipped on a pair of boxers, and she put on a T-shirt. It rode up in back, though, so that her pretty bottom kept peeking out as she went around collecting her things and tucking them into her suitcase.

“Do you kinda wish that the rest of the world really had blown itself up?” I asked.

She was folding one of her bras. “Oh, I don’t know. We’d probably get tired of eating cheesecake eventually.”

“They’d run out. Then we’d have to eat whatever it is that Valentin eats.”

“He gets cheesecake sometimes, don’t you think? When they have some left over?”

“I don’t know. He’s pretty skinny.”

“I wonder why Meryl didn’t think of him.”

“Yeah. Good question. Wrong table, I suppose.”

“I suppose.”

I crammed my sports coat in between my shirts and my underwear bag. She gave the zipper of her suitcase a final tug. “Besides,” she said. “Your algorithms would miss you.”

I slipped on my trousers and rolled the bags out into the corridor. There were a surprising number of people walking by, and every single one of them gawked into the room as they passed. Nothing is more titillating to a person walking down a stateroom corridor than an open doorway.

When I got the door closed again, Molly was sitting up on the bed with the sheet pulled up in front of her and a rather indignant look on her face. What a lot of nerve some people had!

I couldn’t help but smile. “I wonder what they thought you were hiding back there.”

She rolled her eyebrows.

But I was feeling a little playful. The final day’s schedule was lying on the floor. I picked it up and pretended it was an official form.

“Customs inspection, Miss, May I see what you’ve got behind that sheet?”

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to show me. She coyly raised the sheet a little higher.

“That shirt you’re wearing, Miss. Did you purchase it abroad?”

She looked down behind the sheet. This old thing?.

“Regulations, Miss; It may contain contraband fibers.” I held out my hand. “May I see it please?”

She huffed. Bureaucrats! Without letting go of the sheet she wriggled one arm out of its sleeve and then the ot

By HectorBidon. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The waiting area outside the Long Beach cruise terminal was abuzz with bright new outfits and happy chatter. It was enough to make even the most reserved introvert start to feel a bit of excitement.

I was standing with Jack and Ciara, two regulars of the social group. Jack was tall and rugged, something to do with landscaping; Ciara tall and willowy, worked in an office of some sort. They weren’t an official couple, as far as I knew, but they seemed to have hooked up for the New Year s Pacific cruise. That was sort of the way the group worked. Thirty somethings, mostly divorced, intent on maintaining the hard playing lifestyle of their twenties, looking for like-minded dating partners to do it with.

Jack was explaining the different cruise drink payment plans. I smiled politely and nodded, thinking how different from theirs my life would be when I got to be their age.

Denise bustled up in a pretty pastel pantsuit with her clipboard in her hand. She was a travel agent and the mother hen of the group, forty-something and no longer trying so hard to pretend she was any younger. She d put together this group and made a nice extra income for her troubles.

“Hector,” she said, ushering me a step aside, “I’m afraid there’s been a mix up with your reservation. Somehow your single cabin didn’t show up on the final printout.” She gave me a concerned look. “They’re working on it,,  but we may have to double you up with someone.”

This came as a bit of a rude surprise. One of the only reasons I’d finally agreed to come on the cruise in the first place had been her assurance that I’d be able to have a single. It wasn’t that I was antisocial really, but I had my limits.

“You know Mrs. Pendergast, don’t you?”

Mrs. Pendergast was an older woman, well into her sixties. She wasn’t a regular member of the group, but it amused her sometimes to hang with a younger crowd. The group let her tag along to some of their events. I was going to have to share a room with Mrs. Pendergast?

“Apparently she got sick and had to cancel at the last minute. So we have an opening. She was sharing a room with, ah;” she double checked her forms; “a Ms. Crenshaw. I don’t know her, but I’m sure she’s very nice. It’s a double room, and you know how it is on a cruise. You don’t spend that much time in your room anyway.”

I didn’t even try to return her smile.

“They’re still working on your single, of course. I just wanted to let you know the fallback plan.”

Not only losing my single, but having to spend the cruise being polite to an old lady? In Denise’s mind, that was what the social group was all about.

People were already starting to go into the terminal building when Denise came back, this time with an attractive young woman at her side. I wondered if it was Denise’s daughter, there to see us off.

“Hector,” she said, peering at me over the top of her glasses, “this is Molly Crenshaw. I’ve been explaining our predicament.”

The girl gave me a weak smile. She was pretty, with long brown hair swept back, wearing white shorts and a light blue top. She didn’t look like she could be a day over twenty-one. Not at all what I had pictured as a travelling companion for Mrs. Pendergast.

“It’s a double room,” Denise was explaining. “I’m sure they’ll be able to rig up a partition if need be. But this will be the first cruise for both of you. It will be nice to have a buddy to help you find your way around. I’m sure the two of you will hit it off.”

Molly was still looking at me rather uncertainly. This apparently wasn’t exactly what she had signed up for, either. She looked back at Denise. “Well, if his other room got cancelled,

Denise was delighted. The registration mix-up had been solved in an efficient and social-group-positive way. I couldn’t believe she was being so cavalier about putting a guy and a girl who didn’t even know each other into the same room together.

"They’re still working on my single though, right?”

“As far as I know. You’ll be able to check with the Bursar once we get on board.”

Denise had more than enough smile for the three of us. They called our area for boarding.

“See you on board,” she said, bustling off with her clipboard.

Going up the gangway onto the ship itself kind of blew me away. You entered onto the mezzanine level of what looked like the fanciest mall I’d ever seen. There was an atrium that rose several stories high with glass elevators gliding up and down and fancy shops and glittering lights on every different level. On the floor below us a fellow in a tuxedo was playing a grand piano. All of this right in the middle of the ship. Molly’s eyes were as wide as mine.

They’d told us to have lunch while the luggage was being brought on. Molly and I had come aboard with a bunch of other social groupers, but they’d all buzzed off one way or another leaving the two of us by ourselves. We found a little sandwich and salad buffet.

“So, your first cruise?” I asked. I was pretty sure I’d be able to get the room situation straightened out, but there was no harm in being polite.

She assembled a forkful of salad. “Yes, Mrs. Pendergast is a patient at the clinic where I work. She’s pretty chatty, you know. She kept talking about this fantastic cruise she was going on. But she needed a travelling companion to come along and sort of look after her.” She shrugged. “ Mrs. Pendergast offered to cover the cost, if I d come with. I don’t know, she has a way of getting what she wants.”

“Is she all right?” I asked.

“Denise says she’s afraid she might be coming down with something. She’s a bit of a hypochondriac. But the tickets are already paid for, and I’m already here, so Denise said I should just come along on the cruise without her.” She gave her little shrug again and took a sip of iced tea. “Your first cruise too?”

“I’m not really a member of the social group, actually. I went on a nature hike with them one time and ended up on Denise’s list. So now she sends me emails every time she has some big event. She was kind of persistent this time. I think they needed to sign up a certain number of people in order to get a discount or something.”

Molly nodded and stabbed a crouton. “Well, it is a cruise. It should be fun. And it’ll be nice not to have to keep tabs on Mrs. Pendergast all the time. There’s gambling, you know. When we get far enough out to sea.”

“You gamble?”

“Of course. Poker, black jack. Machines mostly, but sometimes at the tables. I have a system. It’s a lot of fun.”

After lunch I asked my way up to the Bursar’s office. Molly came along to make sure that everything worked out. The Bursar looked me up in his computer. Apparently, when Mrs. Pendergast had cancelled, they’d looked to fill the vacancy with someone from our same group. I was the only one in a single, so they moved me in to fill her spot and gave my room to someone else. He double checked, but there weren’t any other singles available. He apologized for the inconvenience and gave me my key card.

I was flabbergasted.

“Well,” said Molly, “we might as well go check it out at least.”

We found our way down to the deck where the cabin was located. The room itself was not much bigger than a walk-in closet. A chair, a little night stand, a mirror on the bathroom door, a bed against the wall. That was it. We looked at each other.

“Kind of smaller than I would have thought,” I said.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

I corralled a passing steward.

“Um, we were supposed to be getting a double room?” I showed him the printout.

“Yes, yes,” he said in his helpful foreign accent. “Very nice double cabin.”

“But there’s only one bed.” I said.

“Double bed,” he explained. Then he gestured toward the porthole on the wall. “Ocean view!” He smiled, happy to have been of service, and went on about his way.

Molly didn’t look altogether convinced.

I sighed. “Let me go talk to the Bursar again,

But she was sizing things up. Sunshine was streaming in through the porthole. Our two suitcases had been placed in a little niche beside the bathroom door, side by side.

"All the other rooms are probably just as small,” she said. “On this level anyway. And they seem to have already given your other room away.” She looked at me. “Do you snore?”

It wasn’t a question I was expecting. “I don’t think so. No one’s ever complained.”

“Well, Mrs. Pendergast does, apparently. That’s the one thing I’ve been dreading the most.” She looked back at the room. “I guess this is just what double rooms are like on cruise ships. Maybe it’s not so bad. At least you don’t snore. We’re kind of on an adventure anyway. Maybe we should just try and make the best of it.”

She made it sound as if sharing a room with a complete stranger of the opposite sex was no bigger a deal than sharing a table with him at lunch. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the schedule of the day’s activities as if the issue had already been decided.

“Shuffleboard lessons at three o'clock,” she noted. “Bingo at four thirty.”

I sat down on the chair. So instead of getting a room of my own I was going to have to share this one? Surely there must be some other alternative. What if,  what if I asked Denise to ask Ciara to move in here with Molly and let me bunk with Jack? Ugh! I cringed at the thought.

“A magic show tonight in the forward theatre.” Molly announced; reading more literature.

I looked around. How would it even work? The room was so tiny. There was only the one bed.

Molly was studying a map of the ship. “What do you think we should do first?” She’d not only accepted the fact that we’d be rooming together, she was ready to head out and start exploring.

“Um,  why don’t you just go ahead on your own? I’ve still got a couple things I need to take care of first.”

I couldn’t tell if she was a bit hurt that I didn’t want to join her. But she shrugged it off. “Well, OK. Then I guess we can just meet back up here later.”

I didn’t really have anything I needed to take care of, I just wanted a little time to sort things out. I was pretty bummed that they’d given away my single. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about Molly’s matter-of-fact-ness. Was she really so used to sharing rooms with random guys?

Still, if I did have to share a room with someone, Molly was probably no more objectionable than Jack or Mrs. Pendergast. She was more my age. She was just out of college and I had a few years on her. She seemed pretty easy going. If we’d been thrown together as partners at a workshop breakout session, I wouldn’t have objected.

But sharing insights at a breakout session wasn’t exactly the same as sharing a cabin on a cruise ship. I’d had to share rooms with strangers before, but they’d always been guys. What you did was you put on your blinders, you put up your shields, you went about your business, you let them go about theirs. You tried to be polite. At least that’s the way it worked with guys. Did it work that way with girls too?

I guess I’d find out.

The ship must have cast off soon after we came on board, but so smoothly that we hadn’t even noticed. By the time I found my way up on deck we’d already cleared the harbor and were quite a ways out from land. I stood at the railing and watched the waves roll by. I wondered whether I might get seasick, but the deck was as firm and steady as any sidewalk on the mainland.

The ship turned out to be a whole little city unto itself. There was a miniature golf course at one end and a climbing wall at the other. The top deck held two full-sized swimming pools, each already surrounded by sun bathers glistening in cocoa butter. The lower decks held lounges and theaters and eateries and nightclubs. There were shops and kiosks on every level; a sports bar, a wine bar, two piano bars, a margarita bar (“Hi, Jack! Hi, Ciara!”); and any number of different ways to get from any one place to any other: by stairs, by elevator, by main passageway, by side passageway.

Later in the afternoon I sat down at a little coffee shop toward the stern of the ship and nursed a cup of lapsang souchong. Seagulls were gliding along in our tailwind. I’d been making good progress on a couple algorithms at work, and I went over some of the key steps in my mind. It was nice being out of the cubicle for a change, sitting in the sunshine, daydreaming instead of coding, watching the seagulls hover and veer.

My thoughts eventually wandered back to my room situation. I still couldn’t understand why Molly was being so agreeable about sharing the cabin. It dawned on me that maybe she didn’t think she had any other choice. Maybe she thought that since she was only here as Mrs. Pendergast’s guest, she had to do whatever Denise asked.

And so maybe she wasn’t really all that used to sharing rooms with random guys either. Maybe she was just doing what she thought was expected. A fellow shipmate, a sort-of member of the same social group she was sort of a member of, needed a place to bunk. She had an empty spot. Didn’t shipboard etiquette kind of dictate that she offer to share? But then, by the same token, what did shipboard etiquette expect of me?

I finished my tea and ambled back toward the front of the ship. A raucous game of volleyball was taking place in one of the pools. Someone called my name.

“Are you going back to the room? I forgot my card.”

It was Molly. She gave her little shrug. She was wearing a bright yellow bikini. It was fairly conservative, the kind she could wear to the gym, but it called your attention to her shapely legs and her slender tummy. We made our way down the labyrinth of passageways toward our lower deck. The people we passed would have naturally assumed that we were together.

“I figured out about dinner,” she said. “Everybody has an assigned time and an assigned table. Ours is in about an hour. We can go together if you want.”

After a couple of wrong turns we finally found our corridor and our little room. It hadn’t gotten any bigger in the time we’d been away. But there was a fresh bath towel sitting on the bed, folded into a sort of soft-origami swan.

“Look how cute,” Molly said. “The housekeepers must have been in.”

She put her things on the nightstand and fiddled in her suitcase for some clothes. “I’m just going to take a quick shower first.” She went into the bathroom, taking the swan along with her. I sat on the foot of the bed and took a look at the schedule. The walls were thin enough that I could hear the water splashing.

She came out wrapped in the towel. “It’s too cramped to get dressed in there,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. She looked around the room, a bit awkwardly.

So this was one of the guys-and-girls-sharing-a-cabin rules that I wasn’t really familiar with. What was I supposed to do while she got dressed? Step into the bathroom to give her some privacy? Or just ignore her, the way I would if I was sharing the room with a guy?

She wasn’t completely sure how to play it either. She turned to face the mirror, but that only put her sideways to me. So she turned all the way around, facing the outer door. She tried to give the impression that changing clothes in front of a cabin mate wasn’t that big a deal. So I tried to follow her lead.

I didn’t stare, and she had her back to me, but it was hard not to notice what she was doing. She started by putting on her bra, but as she was pulling it up, her towel slipped, revealing the two round, pretty cheeks of her bottom. She quickly pulled the towel back into place, and I quickly forced my eyes back to the schedule. So it was only with my peripheral vision that I was able to see her stepping into her panties and skirt and buttoning up her blouse.

Finally she sat on the chair to fasten her sandals. Our eyes met again. She sighed, then admitted. “I work in a clinic. I often have to help clients get over themselves, when they have to disrobe for an exam, in front of someone they don t know. I think I have better empathy, now. Oh, Dinner is supposed to be smart casual.” she remarked.

I took that to mean that my polo shirt didn’t quite cut it. I’d brought a couple button-down shirts, and so I went over and got one from my suitcase. She nodded approvingly and turned to the mirror, fiddling with her hair. I took off my polo shirt and put on the button one.

The dining room was immense, with big round tables like in a reception hall. Molly and I were assigned to a table with some of the other people from our group. I let Molly sit next to Ciara. There was nobody on my other side, which was fine with me. Molly and Ciara found some girl stuff to talk about. The general conversation at the table seemed to be about motorcycles. Denise stopped by to see how everyone was doing.

Molly had the chicken and I had the fish. We resisted the hard liquor, but we both had a glass of wine with our meal. Valentin, our engaging Bulgarian waiter, brought us the chit. We had both just assumed that wine was included in the meal, but he explained that it would be added to our room bill.

“Will they charge it to Mrs. Pendergast?” Molly whispered, afraid they might.

“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered back, signing for both of us.

The magic show didn’t start until eight o'clock, so after dinner Molly suggested we just wander around. She showed me the little art gallery she’d discovered on deck six where it met the central atrium. Photographs of interesting doorways on old, rustic buildings. Just past the art gallery was a little gift shop. We went in, and Molly looked at the jewelry counter. She asked the lady to bring out a necklace that caught her eye. I leafed through the post cards, but I didn’t really have anyone to send one to.

We still had forty-five minutes until the show, so I took Molly up to the miniature golf course. We didn’t bother keeping score. I made a couple lucky shots. Then, on the next-to-the-last hole, Molly’s shot went wild and bounced onto the next green over. It ricocheted off a bumper and coasted down, curving gently, right into the cup. A perfect hole in one into the wrong hole!

“Whoa!” I said. “Remind me never to play you for money.”

She raised her putter and blew on the end as if it were a smoking rifle barrel. “You should see me at pinball.”

The mag

Based on a post by m storyman x, in 2 parts.
Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I sat on the sofa staring out the back window and across the yard, wondering what they were talking about. A few minutes turned into half an hour, which turned into almost an hour. My curiosity finally got the best of me and I snuck down the hall as quietly as I could. I stopped at the door and listened, hoping to hear their conversation. But conversation was not what I heard. What I heard was soft gentle moaning. Two different sounds of moaning. I shook my head in confusion and pushed the door open silently, moving it ever so slowly so that the hinge, which occasionally squeaks, wouldn’t. I peeked around the door to the bed and stood there, staring.

No wonder I didn’t hear them talking. Linda was laying on the bed, as naked as she had been in the kitchen, with her feet on my pillow, her knees pushed wide. My wife on top, held herself on her hands and knees, equally naked, with her head between Linda’s legs, licking her cunt, while moaning in pleasure at Linda’s attentions to hers.

I stepped into the room and neither seemed to notice me at all. I watched the two of them making out, licking each other, driving the other toward climax. Was this why Nancy wasn’t interested in sex with me any longer? Was she getting it from Linda instead? I hadn’t ever known her to be interested in other women, at least not in that way. But it was hard to deny what I was seeing. It didn’t take my body long to respond to what I was seeing, my cock soon standing hard and rigid. Pointing up over the horizon, like an artillery cannon barrel.

No, if she was getting it from Linda, I was damn well going to make sure she understood what she was giving up. I stepped to the end of the bed, looking at my wife’s ass and cunt, held in the air by her knees, while Linda licked and played with her swollen clit. Linda saw me and smiled. She moved her hand from my wife’s ass and reached for my cock. She pulled me in toward her, pulling my engorged head toward both her mouth and my wife’s cunt. She aimed me right to my wife’s sopping wet lips and then used her other hand to reach around my ass and coaxed me into the ‘docking portal’. She’d stopped licking my wife and rubbed my engorged head up and down Nancy’s slit, wetting my mushroom with my wife’s juices.

I reached for my wife’s hips, making her jump slightly as she felt my big firm hands on her. She stiffened, almost as if she were going to refuse me, and then her stiffness faded as Linda rubbed my head around her lips a little harder, working it between her lips and into the entrance of her depths. My wife wiggled her hips side to side, much like she used to when she was inviting me to fuck her hot hole. I pushed toward her, forcing my engorged head slowly into her, spreading her hot wet vagina as I slipped ever so slowly into her.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Nancy moaned as I pushed my way deeper into her. “That’s it honey. Fuck me. Make me come around your fat cock!” She lowered her head to Linda’s cunt again and I heard her muffled moan as I started to stroke slowly in and out of her.

Every stroke brought my balls across Linda’s face, slapping her eyebrows slightly. In and out I started to thrust, my cock stroking its full length in and out of her. Linda wrapped her left hand around my ass cheek and  hooked her other hand around Nancy’s thigh. Linda was now conducting the symphony movement of our love anthem. Linda’s middle finger pressed my anus tightly and eventually entered just inside my sphincter.

I felt Nancy’s already excited cunt start to spasm when I’d barely started stroking, Linda having apparently gotten her already very close to climax. I knew I was still quite a ways from my own climax as I held her hips and kept thrusting, pushing in and out so that my cock teased her insides from the entrance all the way to the end of her tunnel.
Nancy always said that my thick shaft felt so much bigger when I fucked her from behind. I wanted her to enjoy it. I wanted her to feel my cock making her climax. I wanted her to remember how good it felt that first time, that time laying on the picnic table, feeling a cock slide into her for the first time. I wanted her to enjoy it like she did then, coming so hard to my stroking cock that her body surprised both of us and pumped her juices out all over my stomach and crotch. I wanted her to climax that hard again.

“Oh fuck!” she squeaked as she pulled her face from Linda’s cunt. “Oh fuck me, lover. God you feel so good. Come for me. Fill me up with your cum. Oh God! Yes! That’s it. Fuck me!” She hadn’t been all that vocal for years, and hearing her talk like a vulgar whore, begging me to fuck and fill her; pushed all the right buttons at the right time. While my mind was still imagining that it was that first time again, feeling her for the first time, I held her hips and drove harder into her, rocking the entire bed as I pumped in and out of her with abandon.

My body raced toward climax as I thrust myself deep into my wife, a feeling of elation and desire all mixed together running through my body. I was so close, I wanted to come, I wanted to fill her cunt with my cum, I wanted her to keep climaxing as long as I could make her. I kept thrusting, trying to keep holding her climax at its peak as long as I could. I felt a hand on my ass, moving with me, coaxing me harder into my wife.

I looked down past my thrusting cock at Linda’s face, grinning up at me, waiting, coaxing. In a moment of clear realization I knew what she wanted.

“Oh Fuck!” I grunted loudly as my body spasmed. I could feel my cock pumping shot after shot of cum into my wife’s spasming cunt, filling her, feeling her climax still squeezing and milking me, like I hadn’t felt for oh so many years. I stood there, my knees leaning against the mattress, panting, listening to my wife moan and pant herself, my cum still leaking into her as my cock twitched occasionally.

“Oh God, yes. So good.” She moaned softly, laying her head between Linda’s legs again, but not to lick her any longer. Linda released her hold on my ass and instead hooked her index finger around the base of my cock. She coaxed me back, backing me out of my wife slowly. My now softening tallywhacker slipped from Nancy’s reddened, swollen cunt lips, and dropped onto Linda’s face.

Linda tiled her head back and opened her mouth. I slid inside Linda’s waiting mouth and she sucked my shrinking cock for only a few seconds before gently pushing me further back. I knew why, though I was surprised that she’d want to.

I stood, my cock almost dripping the remaining cum in Linda’s face, holding my wife’s ass cheeks for balance. I watched Linda lick the cum oozing from my wife’s gaping cunt, my white cream leaking from her and dripping down off her twat lips into Linda’s mouth.

“Tastes just like that cookie.” Linda moaned softly. “I swear that was cum flavored icing.”

“I kinda thought it tasted like Nancy’s cunt.” I panted as I moved onto the bed and flopped onto my back, momentarily exhausted.

I lay there, trying to catch my breath, listening to Linda lick my wife, sending occasional shudders through her body. Nancy finally had all she could take and shifted off Linda and over onto me, laying down on me. She lay flat on me, her tits smashed to my chest, her face inches from mine. Without a word she lowered her lips to mine and kissed me. Hesitantly at first, and then with growing urgency. She held my face and kissed and sucked my lips, almost as if she were afraid I was going to not be there.

Linda rolled onto her side, facing away from us, then resumed her own masterbations, stroking her cunt with two fingers, while her other hand fondled her aroused nipples. Linda was a moaner.

Finally, after what had to be at least five minutes, both Nancy and I panting breathlessly, she softened and then stopped her kisses. “I’m sorry love.” She whispered into my ear as she laid her cheek beside mine.

“For what?” I whispered back.

“For not realizing what I was doing to you. For almost losing you. I never meant for it to happen. I should have known. I should have heard you. You said it, I know you did. Even Linda heard you. But I was too busy with my own feelings that I didn’t listen to you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to have to find it someplace else. I don’t want you to walk out of my life. I don’t want anyone but you, but I have to, I need to, I, I.”

“Shush.” I whispered, pressing her chest into me, holding her face next to mine. “I don’t want to lose you either. You’re the love of my life. Why would I leave you?”

“Because I forgot. I forgot how it was. I laid here, crying, feeling sorry for myself that Linda could coax you into sex so easily. I thought that you didn’t care anymore or want me anymore. But she told me. She said she’s seen me reject your advances too many times, that you had to think that I didn’t want you anymore. Nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s just, It’s. I don’t know how to explain. But I was wrong. I should have listened. I should have seen the signs. Please don’t leave me.” She practically begged me before she started crying, her tears running down her face and my cheek as well, where we were pressed together.

“I’m not leaving. Shish. I’m still here,” I whispered back, stroking her back and ass.

“Promise?”

“Oh lover. You know I can’t live without you.”

“I used to think that. I used to think that I never had to worry. I used to think you were mine forever, and, well, I watched you pleasuring her, right there, right in front of me, right in our own kitchen. I, I was scared. I was afraid that I was going to lose you. I was mad. I was mad at you, I was mad at Linda.”

“I was actually mad at myself. Mostly now at myself. You did what I pushed you to. You did it because I ignore you. I don’t do what we used to do.”

“I don’t understand. What we used to do?”

“When we were first together. I worked so hard to give you everything you desired. I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to love me. I wanted you to want me, to desire to be with me. I knew that sexual contentment was a big part of that. I knew that if I didn’t make you feel happy that way, that there’d be no chance of lasting love. Guys need that. They need sex. They need it to feel complete. I forgot that. I forgot because I had your love and I forgot that I needed to return it the way you needed it, not the way I felt like giving it. My empathy failed.”

"I don’t understand, Nancy. When we were first together, you were playful, you loved doing all those things, all those ways, all those places. You didn’t like it? You were just, what, faking enjoying it?” I asked with concern and no small amount of hurt welling up in my heart. Had our whole relationship been based on a lie?

She rolled off of me, onto her back, next to me. “I didn’t not enjoy it, but I wouldn’t have chosen to do it by myself if you hadn’t asked me to.”

“Then why didn’t you say no?” I rolled on my side to look at her face.

“I never wanted to say no. I thought it was what was expected. That guys had sex that way. I wanted to be wanted, so I focused on meeting your desires. But I lost that, over the years.”

“I’m confused. You had to know not all guys did all that. I mean, I loved what we did. I loved the variety and the newness of every time we did it someplace different, or in a different way, or whatever. But if you didn’t want to, you had to know it wasn’t required.”

“Wasn’t it? What has been your complaint for the last twenty years? That we never do anything like that anymore. Kinda sounds required to me.”

I rolled facing Nancy; Linda still in her own world, at the foot of the big bed. Nancy rolled onto her side and rested her head so our noses nearly touched, stroking her fingers on my chest. “I’d have never made you do anything you didn’t want to. Not if I knew. Now you’re telling me everything that we did was faked?”

“Not faked. Just not, always my choice.” She whispered. “The guy I was with, before you. He was, well, he didn’t believe in sex before marriage, so we didn’t. Not at all. He never even tried to take my bra off or pull down my pants or anything. So, when I started dating you, I did what you wanted, just like I did what he wanted.”

“Why did you leave him?”

“After two years, I needed more. I needed that physical relationship. I wanted intimacy, and he didn’t seem any closer to asking me to marry him than when we started dating. So, I moved on, or at least I was planning on it. The day you spilled coke all over me? I was out with my best friends, they were trying to convince me that it was time to move on and find someone different. Someone that could make me feel completely different than Jerry did.”

“And me dumping a whole cup of soda pop down your shirt was definitely different.”

“It wasn’t that. It was how incredibly cute you were, trying to apologize. Three times you almost rubbed your hand down my boobs to wipe the soda that was soaking in, off. I suddenly wanted to feel your hands on me. I wanted to see what it felt like to be physically loved.”

“ If you hadn’t asked me to get undressed for you in that park that one night, there wouldn’t be another date. I wasn’t going to go through that again. I could tell you were nervous. I was too. But I wanted to feel your hands on me, and once I did, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted you to touch me and stroke me and make love to me as many times as you wanted. When I realized you liked being teased, liked seeing me in sexy little things, liked it when I played with you in public places, liked it when I let you play with me in those places, well, those are the things I did. I didn’t not like them, but if I had been choosing, I wouldn’t have done a lot of them. Doctor Ruth said a woman can only keep a man if she keeps him satisfied. So I was committed to keeping you satisfied. At least I used to” Nancy was starting to cry again.

“After the girls were born, you kinda stopped wanting sex. Why? What did I do wrong?” I wanted to know.

“You did nothing wrong. I just didn’t feel like I could do those kinds of things anymore. I didn’t want the girls to get the idea that doing that kind of thing was how you got a man. I know. That’s how I got you. But after a few years I just stopped trying to please you that way. I convinced myself you didn’t seem to need it any more, that you knew how I loved you, even if I didn’t show it physically. I forgot that was how you felt loved. I forgot that all the things that you did that made me feel loved, weren’t the things that made you feel loved. Linda reminded me of that. Seeing you kneeling in front of her, licking her, teasing her cunt, making her climax. It made me realize that I’d messed up. I’d failed to do what a wife should be doing, making her man feel loved and cared for. I suddenly realized that Linda had so easily taken over what had been only mine for so long. Linda hasn’t had a man for years, but she wishes that she did.”

“If that’s true, why the hell were you two women having sex?”

“That’s easy.” Linda said from where she was still laying, now listening to us. “We wanted to. While we were talking we had an overwhelming urge to kiss, which led to touching, which lead to, well you know.” Then Linda added; “You’re the one with the cookie, Mike. Like the serpent in Eden, you seduced both of us with one bite of that treat.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you were into girl stuff.” I said softly to my wife.

“I haven’t, well, before today, I never did. I just couldn’t help myself. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to feel her lips on me, on my nipples, on my cunny lips. I wanted to feel her making love to me. I don’t know why, but I wanted it so bad.”

“Just like I needed to have your cock in my mouth.” Linda interjected. “Just like I want your cock in me so bad right now. I want to feel you pumping it into me until you fill me with your cum.” Linda said, rolling over. “So how about it? Wanna let me ride you until we both come?”

“I think I better save it for Nancy,” I answered her, getting a squeeze from Nancy in appreciation.

“Well, if you’re not going to fuck me, I have a dildo at home that’s just begging to feel my hot cunt around it.” Linda said as she stood up. “You know, I might not even bother to get dressed. Just put my shoes on and run home naked and get it. Wanna watch me? Wanna see me pumping it in and out of myself?”

“It’s sorta chilly out.” I said, avoiding the answer she wanted to hear.

She grinned. “Good. It’ll make my nipples nice and hard. You sure you don’t want to come watch me?”

“I better not.” I answered quietly. She shrugged and got up. A few moments later we heard the back door open and close, leaving us alone in the house. “What now?”

“I don’t know. I have an urge to fuck you under the Christmas tree.” Nancy winked

“So why don’t we?” I encouraged her fantasy.

“Is that what you want?” Nancy giggled.

“That’s the wrong question. The question you should ask, is that what We want?”

“Right now, I think it is.” She whispered.

“Okay. I don’t know if my cock is up to a third round, but I’m game to try.”

“Oh honey, I think I can handle that. You go out there and lay down on the carpet and I’ll be out in a few minutes, and I guarantee that I’ll get you hard.” She said with a soft giggle.

I nodded and got off the bed. I didn’t know what she had in mind, but I was willing to let her try whatever she wanted. I grabbed a pillow off the sofa and lay down on the carpet to wait.

“I’m back!” Linda said as she walked in through the garage door again, this time holding a large purple translucent cock. “Oh. Waiting for me?” She asked, stepping over to me and squatting down over me. She rolled onto her knees and slid her wet cunt along my flaccid cock. “I’m not even going to need ‘Carlos’, am I?” she asked setting the dildo aside.

“Linda. I’m waiting for Nancy. I don’t think she’s going to want to see you on my lap. Please don’t make me choose!”

She frowned. “I won’t, but I can keep it warm, can’t I?”

I rolled my eyes. “If you promise to get right off when Nancy comes out.”

“I do.” She answered with a wicked little grin. She began to rock her hips, grinding herself against my cock. She reached for

steamy-stories-blog:

By PaulStevens. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

“Now that that is settled, I need something in return for going. I myself am in a social bind of sorts. You see I organized a guy’s camping trip with two of my friends awhile back. After talking with another of my friends I decided to invite him, too, which my friend Sam then took as a license to invite his girlfriend along. I should explain that Sam and Beth, his girlfriend, both live at home so he’s obviously doing this to get laid, but I digress. Anyway knowing I would object Sam told Tim, the other friend I originally invited, that Beth was coming so he should invite his wife Erin. They have a newborn and somehow got a sitter for the weekend so of course Erin is coming. Upon hearing that Beth and Erin were coming I had to tell Ryan, my third friend, that his fiancée Amber was invited and of course she is now also coming.

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steamy-stories-blog:

By PaulStevens. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

It had been another typical Friday evening on the train for Jeremy. He was glad to see the week at last come to an end, not to mention he was looking forward to meeting with his buddies, once this infernal train finally reached his stop.

“Only six stops to go,” he reminded himself, as both time and the train seemed to crawl along. The train was better than driving from his far suburb to the downtown, and back each day. He knew it was far faster too, but still some days that hour seemed so much longer, and this was one of them.

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steamy-stories-blog:

By TruthWithaTwist. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

We got to the resort and it was everything we expected. It was a cheesy resort built for “romance weekends”. They did a have a “lodge restaurant” and because it was off-season, we had no problem getting our choice of cabins and were told to come down the restaurant at any time.

The guy working the front desk told us that the hot tub on the deck was usable, but suggested that we turn the heat on before dinner if we wanted to use it later. He also mentioned the romance package and asked if he could have it delivered while we dined. He said all of this unironically and without embarrassment.

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By TruthWithaTwist. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I was midway through my first year of Graduate school, getting my MBA, when my girlfriend, Tara, asked if I wanted to drive to her family’s house a few hours away for the weekend. It was her Mother and Step-Father’s 20th wedding party and I jumped at the chance to get away from campus for a few days. The party was scheduled for April 2nd, but their actual anniversary was April 1st, which was a running joke in the family. The chance to get away sounded great and I knew that Tara and I would always find ways to entertain ourselves on long car rides.

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Based on a post by Dimension Of Desire. Listen to the Podcast at My First Time.

It was Summer in the early 70’s, and I was away at Boy Scout camp. I was still a virgin. The camp was large and sprawling, located deep in a remote forest. Aside from the main camp building that stood adjacent to a large lake, there were individual campsites for each troop. The camp was so large that it required a fair hike to get to the next troop’s campsite.

My own troop was camped high on a ridge in the forest. Roughly a dozen boy scouts with raging hormones shared six over-sized tents, two campers per tent, with each tent mounted on a large wooden platform. Nights were spent talking about girls of course, which only stoked those raging hormones. The talk was explicit, as long as our scout leader, who was camped slightly downhill from us, wasn’t within earshot.

Two weeks of camp in the remote forest passed painfully slow. I was quite tall and lean, not as athletic as my counterparts, and took a bit more ribbing and abuse than average from my peers. We were among the more senior scouts. It was the summer between high school and my first year of college. I had just turned eighteen and was looking forward to autumn when I could enter the next phase of scouting, which was called Explorers. I loved scouting, but the thought of becoming an Explorer was intriguing, more so because Explorers were co-ed.

The ribbing got so bad one day that I went for a hike alone in the forest. I came upon an unoccupied campsite with a large platform tent that had a steel cot with a thick, clean mattress. Over the next several days I made it my own secret getaway. It was a comfortable escape where I could enjoy solo time with a few books that I had brought with me. I was a bit of a bookworm back then.

Back at camp we sat around the fire after returning from lunch at the mess hall. The mess hall was on the second floor of the main camp building which overlooked the massive lake below. The Director gave announcements and recognized several schouts who complete merit badges and a bunch of us who d successfully earned our mile swim badges.

We sang the scout motto song as we cleared our tables and departed.

Be be be prepared,

The motto of the Boy Scouts.

Be be be prepared,

The motto of the scouts!

Prepared! Prepared!

The motto of the boy scouts.

Prepared! Prepared!

The motto of the scouts. Hey!

After an uneventful lunch we headed back to our campsite which required a two mile hike. There wasn’t much to do that afternoon. The lakefront had been shut down to prepare for a camp-wide water competition the next day.

Time passed slowly. Back at our campsite we noticed another troop hiking through the other side of the ravine at a distance, but didn’t take much notice. It was probably just another group of campers passing through for their backpacking or Orienteering merit badges.

But then I noticed that something was different about the hikers; they weren’t boys!

I snatched a pair of binoculars from my tent. Sure enough, they weren’t boys, they were Senior Girl Scouts. My heart raced, and I felt something automatically stirring down below. I could hardly get the words out of my mouth to my comrades; “gurr; ga ga, girls!”

In an instant there were twelve horny boys hanging precipitously over a long rock ledge, each with binoculars, spying about a dozen or so very cute girls hiking down slope from us. Their trajectory led right towards our scout leader’s tent. From a distance, the girls looked pretty, about the same age range as ourselves, guided by a pretty blonde Girl Scout leader that appeared to be in her mid- to late 20’s.

To describe the boys as being excited would be an understatement. Their eyes were glued to their binoculars. One boy even set up a telescope on a tripod to get a better view. He positioned himself in a prone position, and looked like a machine gunner preparing to fire. I am sure he wanted to fire his live bullets up inside their fertile bellies.

Of course the discussion quickly turned to sex. Most of the boys were focused on the hot blonde Girl Scout leader who wore rather tiny, tight green shorts. Her white short-sleeve blouse was tied under her large tits, exposing her incredibly narrow, bare waist. Every one of boys had some sort of comment, each expressing essentially the same thing; they all wanted to fuck her. I could see one boy stroking himself in his sweatpants, and trying to hide it. He never did live that one down. Suffice to say, every one of us had a massive hard-on.

What seemed to be a typical hot, boring, mid-summer afternoon isolated deep in the remote forest had suddenly become every teenage boy’s fantasy come to life. We had a perfect view of some of the cutest girls we had ever seen. We were all high on the thought of what each one of us imagined we’d like to do with them. Our primitive male instincts naturally kicked into high gear.

We scurried back to our tents as soon as we noticed our scout leader heading for our campsite. We did a good job not being caught spying. He called to wake us from our supposed siesta, and sat us around the camp fire. He explained that a troop of Girl Scouts were hiking through the area en route to the far side of the lake where other Girl Scout troops were holding their summer camp several miles to the East. Aware that we were a cauldron of hormones ready to erupt, he issued strict orders to keep our distance from the girls. He had arranged to put the troop of girls up for the night at an adjacent campsite about a quarter mile from ours. Anyone caught anywhere close to the girls camp site would result in immediate termination of their summer stay.

As if that was going to work; ha! He left us and returned to his own camp site. The troop of girls had disappeared by then, but about an hour later one of the boys noticed the Girl Scout leader returning, alone, to our scout leader’s campsite. The two of them sat side-by-side on a large log and talked. We were beyond earshot to hear anything except the rustling of the leaves around us. Of course we all high-fived each other about our scout leader, who was single and in his late twenties. A good-looking stud in his own right, he was studying to become a minister. We just couldn’t see him as one, and don’t think he became one after that event.

The pair disappeared into his tent. We were beyond giddy imagining what they might be doing with each other, but quickly realized that it was the perfect opportunity to go find the girl’s camp. We knew that it wouldn’t take long for the news of the girl’s presence to spread like wildfire throughout the rest of the camp, after which the area would become strictly off-limits, and guarded like Fort Knox. We had to act fast.

We made our way through the backwoods and quickly found the girl’s camp. We made sure to wear backpacks to make it look like we just happened to come upon their camp while hiking. It worked. When we emerged from the trail, there, in the isolated camp site, stood twelve of the prettiest girls, all dressed in their regulation Girl Scout uniforms, and us boys wearing our regulation Boy Scout uniforms. I don’t think you could find a single girl or boy at that moment that was disappointed. At first the girls looked slightly alarmed, but after they huddled for a few moments their frowns quickly turned to big smiles. The girls then scurried to offer us a place to rest and pampered us with snacks, drinks, and lots of attention.  I even charted our compass settings and paces, under the guise of preparing for a test.

We mentioned that when we left our campsite, their Girl Scout leared was still in our scoutmaster s tent, with just him. Eyebrows raised and girls chuckled.

It was the only time in my young existence that I can recall a place where a group of teen boys and girls were practically drowning in a sea or raging hormones. It was difficult to conceal the large bulges in our Boy Scout trousers. We wore the classic tan Boy Scout pants and tan short-sleeve shirts, complete with badge-laden sashes, canvas belts, neckerchiefs and clasps. Be Prepared was our motto, but we were certainly not prepared for this! That garb was only worn at official ceremonies, but we were too stupid to know the girls figured we were just trying to impress them. They played along.

After a bit of banter, the boys and girls naturally split up into pairs or foursomes, having conversations with each other. Flirting was on display, but nothing else happened at first. Everyone was on the lookout for the scout leaders; thank goodness for walkie-talkies.

One Girl Scout in particular sparked my interest. To me she was a little goddess. I was tall, approaching six feet, and she was a petite little thing, standing all of five feet tall, if that. I felt my heart drop into the pit my gut when our eyes met. She appeared to be about my age with big green eyes and silky straight auburn hair with long, straight bangs.

All of the girls were Senior Girl scouts. Senior Girl Scouts were more mature Girl Scouts that wore dark green skirts with the Girl Scout emblem prominently displayed on the left waistband of their skirt. They all wore tight white button-down short-sleeve shirts with the green Girl Scout clover embroidered on the shirt pocket, very sexy. Some of the girls were more developed than others, but the one that caught my eye was clearly well endowed.

I knew our time was short. After some initial talk and innocent flirting, it was clear that the two of us had made an instant and powerful connection. Our hearts raced, practically beating right through our uniforms. My cock was rock hard and throbbing. I practically came when she leaned into me and placed her hand high on my upper thigh only an inch or so from my crotch. She uttered something about primitive camping in the wild. That’s exactly what I was thinking; wild!

We were fortunate to enjoy almost two full hours with the girls. Some of the boys began making out with the girls in their tents. Mine leaned in for a kiss; I was more than happy to oblige. As her lips made contact with mine I discovered heaven on earth. Her lips were soft and thick; utter perfection as mine melted into hers. Her name was Rebecca. She asked me to call her Becky.

The fun didn’t last long enough. We were alerted that the scout leaders had emerged from their little nookie nest. That was our cue to make a quick exit and evacuate before the enemy returned. As we concluded yet another long, slow kiss I peered into the deep pools of Becky’s bright green eyes and informed her, regretfully, that we had to part. We were resigned to the notion that this would be the first and last time we’d ever see each other, but as I prepared to bid her farewell, I took both of her hands in mine and told her about my secret enclave. I explained where it was in the unlikely event that she could break free later that evening.

Behind a large tent I gave Becky a final farewell kiss, told her that she was the most beautiful and amazing girl I had ever met, and then bolted in an effort to catch up with the other boys. We escaped just moments before the Girl Scout leader returned.

Back at our camp we gathered around the fire once more; boys feeling they had become men in just a short time. The boisterous talk was instantly curtailed when our scout leader approached, clueless about our afternoon shenanigans. We kept our secret well, and ribbed him about his extended visit with the hot-looking Girl Scout leader. One boy that acted as our lookout said that the Girl Scout leader appeared quite disheveled when she emerged from his tent, and he had been tucking his shirt and zipping up his pants. He insisted that they had only talked and discussed scout leader things, but we had fun insinuating more, after which he abruptly shut down our conversation and barked orders to prepare for the long hike to the mess hall for dinner. The mess hall was in the main building where roughly a thousand boys converged for meals twice daily.

I suggested a friendly game of capture the flag between the two troops. But our scoutmaster strictly forbid any contact with the girls.

We arrived at the mess hall. Scouts were required to show-up in full dress uniform, well pressed, and well groomed. When we entered the soaring mess hall with its massive wooden beams, there was a rather unusual hush. There, not far from our assigned table, sat the group of Girl Scouts. Hundreds of young guys and a handful of pretty gals, all dressed in their official Girl Scout uniforms. You could hear a pin drop. One of the boys sitting an adjacent table leaned over to me and muttered something crass about what he’d like to do to a few of them. I just smiled in response before returning to my meal, trying conceal occasional attempts to catch a glimpse of Becky.

I was quick to arrange a swap of KP duty. That s kitchen patrol. We volunteer one person from each table, to help clean up and scrub the dishes.

Looking toward the girl scout table, our eyes met and the two of us fell into a trance. I could visibly see the want in Becky’s eyes, and a bit of sadness in her pouty lips. The sound of utensils clanging on dishes and discussions receded into the distance, becoming only a faint echo in my head. Only a few feet separated me from my entire world; though it might as well have been half a world away. There was nothing I could do to get any closer. My mind began to wander.

I thought, if only I could muster enough courage to make some sort of grand gesture. I imagined myself pushing away from the table, walking straight over to Becky, lifting her high into my arms, and kissing her while the entire legion of boys erupted in cheers. Then again, I knew I’d more likely end-up unconscious and horizontal on a stretcher if I did, or worse.

Whack! A slap from one of my buddies snapped me back to reality from my zombie state.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked, for which I had no ready response. As Becky’s face came back into focus I could see her laughing. I blushed with embarrassment.

I went back to the counter for a refill of my drink. That s when Becky decided she too, needed more fluids. As I stood at the dispenser, she silently stood next to me. I mumbled just loud enough; Volunteer for KP duty.

Dinner ended and I sadly found out the girls were honored guests, not required to serve KP. Oh well, it was a long shot. But the camp cook gave the girls a guided tour of the lodge, so I did get to wink at her twice, while washing down the tables and sweeping the floor.

I made my way back to camp. When dusk began to fall I exited the rear of my tent with my day pack; and slipped undetected into the thick forest. The scout with whom I bunked had gone to the infirmary after becoming ill from dinner. That allowed me to escape unnoticed. I made it to my private enclave just as dusk settled in.

Night was falling and I soon realized that I was going to remain there, alone. I began to pack up my things to return to my troop’s campsite. Just as I emerged from the tent, there stood Becky, like an angel from heaven wearing a smile larger than the full moon that softly lit the landscape around us. Becky approached me, slowly, held out her hands, and grasped both of mine.

“I couldn’t bear to leave here tomorrow without seeing you again.” she said in a soft and sincere voice.

There we stood, our hands clasped, and our eyes fixated upon each other. She was the ultimate image of sexy standing there in front of me. She wore the classic green socks embroidered with the Girl Scout emblem on each side, along with bright yellow flash garters that held them up. Her black patent Mary Janes were so shiny they reflected a little bit of her white panties from beneath her green Girl Scout skirt, which was now much shorter than I had recalled earlier that day.

Becky looked up at me with those big green eyes which were slightly covered by her long silky straight bangs. Around her neck she wore a Girl Scout locket. I could partially see down her blouse and caught a brief glimpse of her cleavage.

There we stood, silent. We didn’t want to move, we just stared at each other and drank each other in. The look in her eyes was dreamy. That a girl could gaze upon me with such adoration was mind-blowing. I was falling in love for the first time in my young life.

I had packed my tent lantern, but a fire within me was far hotter than any fire I could ever make with conventional wood. I took her hand in mine and gently led her into my tent. The tent was roomy and cozy. I had made it quite homey with a sleeping bag, blankets, and two pillows on the sturdy cot. We sat side-by-side, both feeling a little awkward, not knowing where to start or what to do next.

I slipped my hand into hers, lifted my other hand, placed it gently on her cheek, and then brushed back her soft hair while bringing my lips close to hers, but not yet touching. My hand slipped down to her neck. Only our hot steamy breath separated our parted lips by mere millimeters. She closed her eyes; there wasn’t anything either of us ever wanted more than to feel each other’s lips touch at that moment.

And they did. Our hearts connected as our lips met. We felt one with each other. Our sweet soft kisses said everything that needed to be said. Our kisses became deeper, longer, and more passionate as our tongues gently entangled. We never wanted this evening to end.

She slowly raised her hands up to each side my face, paused, and made me look directly into her eyes. Now face-to-face, she pulled back slightly.

“I want you!” she asserted with absolute certainty.

Becky stood up, her tight young body only inches in front of me. I remained seated. She backed away slightly, still grasping both of my hands. There she stood, the cutest, sexiest young lady that was beyond any divine creature I could ever conjure up in my dreams.

I couldn’t believe that this incredible sexy girl was standing there, right in front of me. Her cute round face, small slightly upturned nose, flawless complexion, and perfect body glowed in the moonlight. Her perky round tits protruded through her tight-fitting white blouse, partially obscured by the long green Girl Scout sash laden with merit badges that stretched from the top of her shoulder on one side, down to her opposite hip. She also wore the classic green Girl Scout necktie. Becky teasingly pointed to a patch on my own uniform that read “Be Prepared” and asked me if I was. Completely entranced and under her spell, I nodded to affirm.

She began to dance in slow motion, teasing me with her tight curvy body, first moving in closer, then further away, almost like a seasoned stripper but remaining fully clothed. She leaned one shoulder into me. On the crest of her shoulder attached to her white blouse was a patch that read Girl Scouts U.S.A. I thought to myself, thank God for Girl Scouts!

“Do you like Girl Scouts?” She quizzed in a teasing and seductive tone.

“I, I love one Girl Scout, I mean, I love this Girl Scout.” quickly correcting myself.

“Right answer!” Becky shot back, moving in closer and sporting a broad smile.

Truth be told, I always had it in for girls in uniform, especially girl scouts. I had attended private scho

Based on a post by secret sexy writer. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Once back inside, he removed the cloak and laid her on his bed. She sighed in her sleep, and the creases in her forehead disappeared. He ran a warm cloth over her cheeks, washing the dirt away. And then he turned to her foot.

A dark bruise circled her swollen ankle. He carefully ran his hand over her leg and foot, not feeling any broken bones. Certain it was only a bad sprain, he cleaned and wrapped her ankle loosely, and then propped it up on a pillow to reduce the swelling.

Before he pulled a blanket over her, he gazed down at her sleeping form. Her lips parted as she breathed evenly once again, her head tilted to the side, exposing the delicate lines of her neck. His eyes traveled downward, following the curves of her torso as the nightdress clung to her, and rested on the dark patch visible through the material at the apex of her legs.

His loins burned with fire, and he hardened immediately. Then he threw the blanket over her and forced himself to turn away. He turned the chair to face the fire, and he eased himself down into it, brooding over the day’s events.

How could he have thought she’d run away? Did he not trust her? She had proven herself to him time and again. But he had jumped to conclusions. He’d almost lost her due to his stupid fears.

He made a swift decision: the dogs would be destroyed in the morning. He’d do it right now, but he couldn’t bear to leave her side. What if she needed him while he was gone? But they had to go. They’d already caused at least one death. They were a weapon, triggered by his temper.

He dozed off eventually, but he woke throughout the night to check on her, adjusting her ankle, watching the swelling, making sure she appeared comfortable. And each time he forced himself to return to the chair when he wanted to sit and watch her sleep.

A dull throbbing in her ankle woke Kristiana. She opened her eyes to see Prince Dalemond wrapping a cool white cloth around her entire foot. He placed her foot on a pile of pillows and reached for the blanket. When he turned back toward her, he started.

“You’re awake!”

“I am.” She stared up at him. At his five o'clock shadow; at his messy mane of hair; at his wrinkled shirt, open at the neck; at the thick muscles in his arms where the sleeves had been rolled up. She swallowed and tried to sit up, propping her elbows behind her.

His eyes dropped down to her breasts.

She realized they were jutting out in this position and lay back down. But her nipples tightened, painfully. It had been almost a year. How much longer could she go on denying her attraction to him? He obviously felt some himself. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be looking at her all the time.

“It is late. I did not mean to disturb you.” His fingers grazed over her ankle. “How do you feel?”

“Sore.” She licked her dry lips, refusing to meet his gaze. Instead, she watched his hand on her foot. The heat of his skin was evident against hers even through the bandage.

“I’m sorry I overreacted earlier.”

She flinched, her eyes leaping up to his. “I, I had only gone for an evening stroll. I did not disobey you. I never have. I never will.”

“I’m sorry about the dogs. They won’t bother you again.”

“Thank you.” It was hard to swallow. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Was it her imagination, or was he stroking her ankle? She didn’t dare tear her eyes from his; it was a nice feeling. And she didn’t want him to stop. She settled back into the pillow and tried to keep her breathing steady when his hand crept up to caress her shin.

“Did; did you have a good trip?”

He nodded, tilting his head to the side. His chocolate-brown eyes watched her. Watched when her lips parted as his hand moved behind her knee. Watched when she gasped as he slid his fingers up and down her calf. Watched when she moaned as he pushed the hem of her nightdress up her leg.

“I didn’t mean to be so late. Things took longer than expected.”

It was her turn to nod, and she licked her lips again when he massaged the top of her thigh. Then her breath hitched when his fingers brushed her inner thigh.

“Do you want me to stop, Kristiana?” His voice was a low whisper.

She shook her head, unsure of what she was feeling. She’d never been with a man before. It was exciting and scary at the same time. He seemed to know what he was doing. She told herself to relax; and for once be glad he was in control.

His hand stilled, feeling the tension in her muscles beneath the silkiness of her skin. Prince Dalemond had never seen such a timid woman before. Her soft gasp when he’d first touched her made his chest tighten with anticipation. He was sure this was a new experience for her. He intended to make it memorable.

He told himself to go slow. He knew this evening had been frightening for her. He wanted to ease her fears. Regain her trust. Nothing more.

He’d bedded many women before, but the inexperienced were the most interesting. He enjoyed their expressions, their sounds at the new sensations he brought alive in their bodies. And once they’d become accustomed to his ways, they were eager to please him again and again.

She would be no different. He was a man with needs; she was a beautiful woman. They would both benefit. When he’d tired of her, he would decide what to do at that time.

Until then;

Kristiana gasped again, and his eyes jumped up to her face. Her gaze was focused on where his thick fingers stroked the inside of her thigh. When he inched them upward, her eyes closed, and then she licked her bottom lip.

His breath caught at her reaction. The thin material of her skirt collected at his wrist as he drew closer to the source of heat he could feel against the back of his hand. And then his fingers grazed the bed of curls.

She let out a whimper. When he gently pressed his free hand to her other thigh, her legs parted.

“Do you want me to stop, now?”

For the briefest moment, she said nothing.

He prayed she would not resist him. He would not try again with her if she did.

There were always the day-trips to find a willing partner, like the one today, and others he’d taken without her knowledge, returning before she’d realized him gone. He would just rather use the opportunity under his own roof. That’s why he’d formulated the plan on his return today; aghast with himself for not thinking of it sooner. He could have her whenever he pleased without worry that she would go to the arms of another man.

His anger had been renewed, though, when he’d returned to find her missing from the castle, the gates still securely locked. He had not thought it possible for her to escape over the wall, but she was a clever woman. He had underestimated her. And that only deepened his frustration.

“No.” Her eventual response was the strangest sound, as if she was forcing herself to say it. But he gave it no heed. It was the answer he desired.

His index finger swept up through her curls. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth when he felt the gathered slickness beyond. She moaned and her hips moved slightly against his hand. He flicked the tip of his finger at her hidden bud, and she cried out, her eyes flying open to stare at the ceiling.

“What a delightful sound from such a beauty as you.”

He flicked again, receiving the same reaction. He stroked further down into the heat and more wetness. She was as needy of this as he was. The thin fabric of his trousers strained against his own arousal, and he groaned.

Several minutes passed as he slowly stroked one and then two fingers through her swollen lips. Her eyes had closed again, fluttering open whenever he moved against her bud. When he felt he’d teased her enough, he gently inserted his finger into the source of her womanhood.

Kristiana gripped the sheets beneath her. Her whimpering grew louder as he stroked in and out of the tight opening. And then her hips lifted off the bed with a gentle shudder.

Dalemond chuckled. He pressed his left hand against her right thigh, holding her down, and then inserted another finger. That earned him a strangled gasp and another arch of her hips, pushing his digits deeper. When he stroked faster, occasionally rubbing his thumb against her bud, the slickness grew thicker, producing a heady scent that he relished.

He kept his eyes on her face, but he couldn’t help noticing how her ragged breathing made her now swollen tits press against the fabric barely encasing them. He moved his left hand up and caressed one mound through her nightdress, mesmerized by the fullness of it and how it felt to finally touch her there after all these months of admiring her from a distance.

She moaned, rolling to press into his hand. His fingers continued a steady rhythm below. Above, he sought out and stroked her nipple, which hardened instantly. She felt so good, his hands aching from squeezing and flexing around and within her most intimate parts.

He was considering what her breast would feel like, taste like, without the barrier currently hiding it when her muscles tightened around the fingers of his right hand. Her breathing became shallower, and her moans turned into unintelligible mumbling.

His focus returned to what he was doing between her legs as he silently urged her on, the pain of his own restraint maddening. But he forgot about himself when she screamed his name, her back lifting off the bed completely. His fingers continued to stroke within as she climaxed, only ceasing when she relaxed again, shuddering.

“Shush; shush;” He eased his hand away, pulling the skirt down again.

She moaned, pressing her cheek into his touch when he caressed her there.

They were both silent except for her small whimpers as aftershocks rolled through her body. He couldn’t stop watching her, her cheeks flush, her chest moving in time with the slow tempo of her breathing now.

When he realized she’d fallen asleep, he covered her with the heavy quilt, blew out the candlelight, and settled into the chair by the fire for the rest of the night.

Confined and impaired.
Kristiana opened her eyes and blinked. Sunlight poured in the window; on the wrong side of the room. She sat up with a start, wincing at the dull ache in her left ankle. As she glanced around, noting the expensive tapestries, the oversized ornate furniture, she realized she must be in Prince Dalemond’s chambers. But why was she in his bed?

Her cheeks burned as she remembered. And the more she thought of last night, the hotter she felt in other places. Had she really let him touch her like that?

“Good, you’re awake.”

She screamed and clutched a hand to her throat.

“My apologies, my lady. I did not mean to frighten you.”

Prince Dalemond stepped toward her from where he stood in the doorway. She automatically pulled the quilt up, covering her bosom. When his eyes darted down and lingered, her nipples hardened and she wondered what he was thinking. The memory of his hand on her breast made her moan softly.

One of his eyebrows shot up, but he only said, “I came to see if you were hungry.”

She nodded and tried to swallow.

“I should check your ankle.” And then he proceeded to pull the quilt back, exposing her bare legs where the skirt of her nightdress had ridden up during her sleep. He glanced there briefly but moved on down to remove the cloth bandage he’d applied in the middle of the night.

She worried her lower lip while he gently prodded, his hand cool against her heated skin.

“The swelling has gone down, but I think you should stay off it today.”

“If you insist, Your Highness.”

He seemed to bristle at her formal tone, but he said nothing more. He dipped the cloth in the water basin, wrung it out, and returned to the bed to apply it to her foot. When he was finished, he covered her legs again and stood. “I will bring you your breakfast shortly.”

She shivered as he left, her heart racing. How did he affect her so with just the simplest of touches?

He returned carrying a tray laden with breads, fruits, juice, and three books. She raised her gaze from the latter to his eyes, and he simply said, “To keep you occupied.”

He helped her sit up, propping pillows around her and under her injured foot, and then he proceeded to sit on the bed facing her. As he picked up a cluster of grapes and plucked one, placing it in his mouth, she realized he intended to eat with her.

It did not bother her, it was his house, his bed. However, each time his fingers picked something from the tray or raised the food in his mouth, she thought of what they had done to her last night. Part of her wanted to ask him why he had done it. But she was too embarrassed.

Best to pretend it had never happened.

When the tray contained only crumbs and rinds of fruit, he placed the books on the bedside table and removed the tray from her lap. “I have matters to attend to, but I will return to check on you.” And then he excused himself and closed the door on his way out.

Kristiana stared at the decorative brass bars crossing the heavy wooden door. Who was this man? He seemed to change from night to day, mean and beastly one moment, kind and generous the next. Her head hurt after a while, tired of trying to understand him. She turned to pick up the top book, and soon lost herself in the story.

Prince Dalemond brought Kristiana a tray for the noon meal, sharing it with her again. He left her reading a book, but she was sleeping when he looked in on her later. At dinnertime, he roused her for the meal, helping her to the chair by the fire before they dined together.

Once they were finished, he made her comfortable in bed again before checking her ankle. Satisfied that a day of rest had begun healing it, he rewrapped it.

Her gasp of surprise pleased him when he began to repeat the rendezvous from last night. He did not ask permission this time, her moans and writhing body under his ministrations confirming her consent in his mind. He left her satisfied and drowsy, choosing the chair by the fire again for his bed.

In the morning, her ankle still seemed too tender to apply weight to it. And so, he ordered another day of rest; and another night of pleasuring her followed.

On the third day, she insisted on getting out of bed. When she asked to take a bath, he prepared it for her in her chamber; and he remained outside her closed door. He told himself he was only being cautious, in case she needed anything. But deep down, he wished he were in there, assisting her.

Both thoughts bothered him. Surely he wasn’t having feelings for this woman; this guest; this prisoner in his home? Once, he had considered letting her leave, to go home to her father. But now; now that she seemed to desire him, and he wouldn’t need to travel to find relief for his sexual tensions, he didn’t want to let her go.

A Literary escape from confinement.
Kristiana had convinced him to let her spend the day in the library. Even though her ankle felt better now, he’d brought the noon meal to her and shared it with her.

It felt good to have washed and dressed properly for once, a simple red gown with an empire waist today, but she half wished she were still in her nightdress; still in his bed.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she thought of how his eyes would wander down to her breasts while they ate, as if he were hungry for more than just food. At night, after tending to her injury, the nightdress made it easy for him to seduce her.

Suddenly, she felt constrained in her gown and undergarments. Her breath caught, remembering how he had not asked for her consent the last two nights. How that aroused her even more than spending the day wondering if he would return and do it again after the evening meal.

“You have not turned a page in quite some time, my lady. What thoughts occupy your mind?”

She cried out, and heat rushed to her cheeks, as if he had been reading her thoughts. Part of her wanted him to. Wanted him to know she craved for him to do more than just pleasure her with his fingers;

Adorned.
Prince Dalemond felt his heart beat increase when her cheeks colored, almost matching the shade of her dress. And it was a lovely dress, despite its simplicity, especially on her petite frame. He couldn’t resist smiling, knowing he had been correct to presume she had not been reading for the past several minutes.

“You seem to enjoy startling me.” Kristiana closed her book and set it aside.

“Do not blame me for your ignorance of my presence.” If possible, her cheeks darkened even more. It occurred to him he might have insulted her.

“Maybe your presence does not garner such notice as you presume.”

He smirked at her bravado. Maybe he would keep her around for enlightening conversations such as this long after she ceased to please him in bed.

“Your Highness thinks very mightily of himself.”

He meant to snap at her retort this time, but she had stood and began to approach him when she stumbled. Instinctively, he rushed her side, catching her before she hit the floor. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and winced as he helped her regain her balance. “Too much resting, I think. My ankle is not used to serving its purpose; keeping me upright.”

For a moment, they stood silently. Then she must have realized his arms were still around her, supporting her, because her eyes shot up to meet his, and she gasped softly.

He bit back a groan, enthralled with the feeling of her in his embrace, as loose as it was. His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer, and her eyes widened. She had to tilt her head back now to see his face. Without thinking, he lowered his mouth.

She struggled at first, but as his lips moved against hers, her small hands gripped his arms. Soft mewling sounds escaped with her breathing. Her lips parted when his tongue glided over them.

He tasted the sweet berries from their recent meal when he swept into her mouth. Her inexperience showed as she tried to copy him, their tongues battling awkwardly. He moved to cup her cheeks in his large palms, holding her still while he deepened the kiss, slowly instructing her what to do. It took several attempts, but she seemed to finally catch on. When she subtly rubbed her tits against him, he growled and nipped at her lower lip, drawing a startled moan from her.

The softness of her body pressing against his hard chest. The taste and smell of her. Her petulant attitude, even. It all made him weak in the knees. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was just another woman. He was supposed to seduce her. And yet, he felt that his plan was backfiring on him.

She must have shifted her balance to her injured foot because she suddenly cried out, her grip on his arm tightening as her legs gave out.

He realized he wasn’t thinking rationally when he picked her up, one arm under her legs, and resumed kissing her, muffling her startled cry. And then he was crossing the room,

Based on a post by secret sexy writer. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Once upon a time;

A merchant lived in a forest. His only daughter, Kristiana, had been a nursemaid to a wealthy family until the children became of age and the family no longer needed her services. Deciding to take some time for herself, she returned to live with her father.

One morning, before he left for the market, he said to her, “Kristiana, if you could have one thing that would make you happy, what would it be?”

“Finally being here with you makes me happy. I need nothing more.” Kristiana hugged her father and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Then she waved as he mounted his horse and headed off toward town.

His mind still troubled him on his journey. He wanted to get something special for his daughter, but he no longer knew what she liked. And she hadn’t been much help with answers herself.

She’d grown into such a beautiful woman while she’d been away. She was at least five-foot-five now, her brunette hair cascading down her back in soft waves. He remembered her mother pulling it back into pigtails not too long ago. And then Kristiana had hid it all twisted up on her head under a cap when she’d left to work for that family.

That was all before his lovely wife had passed away after the terrible accident. No one had known where the beastly dogs had come from. Mariel had been tending the garden out back when they’d run out of the woods and attacked her in broad daylight.

If only he’d been home at the time;

He sniffed and urged his horse on. Throughout the morning as he gathered the items on his list, he focused on Kristiana. On the present. And he kept an eye out for her gift, but nothing seemed right.

When he had finished his business, the merchant set off for home. The day had grown long, and the sun was already setting behind the trees of the woods. The wind grew colder, whipping his jacket about. With one hand, he struggled to hold onto the reins of the horse, his other hand clutching the satchel of merchandise tightly against his body.

The sky darkened, and soon rain pelted down, soaking through his clothes. A streak of lightning spooked the horse, and then they were racing through the trees, wispy branches stinging his cheeks. Once the horse had calmed down, the merchant paused and glanced around. But under the thick cover of leaves over him, he couldn’t see the moon or tell which way to go. His only hope was that they could find some shelter and wait out the storm. His hope dwindled, though, as he led the horse among the maze of trees. He was completely lost, even in the woods he’d known most of his life.

Just when he was ready to give up, he noticed a dull light shining off to his right, and steered the horse toward it. As he drew near, he saw that the light belonged to a building. An inn!

Lightning lit up the sky, and the merchant gasped, tightening his grip on the reins as the horse reared up. The inn was actually a massive castle!

Stone walls stretched out in either direction beyond a looming gate, and towers disappeared into the night sky above him. No lights were burning in any of the windows, but a lantern swung on a post over the front door.

Sliding down from his horse, the merchant pushed open the gate and entered the courtyard. The horse whinnied at another crack of lightning, but it followed behind, pawing at the ground when he tied off the reins on a metal loop in the castle wall.

When he reached the door, he saw that it was open. Though he shouted, no one came to greet him. Gathering his courage, he went inside, still calling out to attract attention. On a table in the front hall, a splendid dinner lay already served. He lingered, still shouting for the owner of the castle. But no one came, and so after eyeing the food and listening to his growling stomach, the starving merchant sat down to a hearty meal.

His hunger satisfied, curiosity now plagued him. Why had no one met him at the door? Who had lit the lantern? Who had prepared the meal? He called again for any acknowledgement of his arrival. Upon receiving none, he ventured through the main room. At the far end was a grand staircase. He ascended, in awe of the paintings in elaborate gold frames adorning the walls.

From the landing, a corridor led off in either direction with several closed doors on each side. However, the first door on his left was open. A fire crackled in a massive stone fireplace that was taller than he was. Directly across from it sat a four-poster bed piled high with blankets and pillows.

It was now late, and he could not resist the invitation before him once again. He lay down on the bed and fell fast asleep. When he woke next morning, someone had placed a mug of steaming coffee and some fruit by his bedside.

The merchant had breakfast and after tidying himself up, went downstairs to thank his generous host. But, as on the evening before, there was no one in sight. Shaking his head in wonder at the strangeness of it all, he went towards the courtyard where he had left his horse. To his continual surprise, his horse was no longer tethered to the castle wall but grazing beneath a tree in the sunshine.

Next to the tree were several rose bushes. Dotting the green leaves, glistening with the remnants of last night’s rain, were the largest red flowers he’d ever seen in full bloom.

Thinking of his parting question to his daughter, he whispered, “It’s perfect!” And then he carefully plucked a dewy rose from its bed.

No sooner had he reached for the horse’s reins than a man sprang up from behind the rose garden. He wore a dark jacket over his tunic and pants that all looked of the finest material. His thick mane of hair was mostly gray with subtle streaks of blond, and it flowed down to his shoulders. But his brown eyes were bloodshot and gleamed with fire; his mouth was curled into a snarl. His wide shoulders towered over the merchant, and his large hands reached out to him.

“Ungrateful man! I gave you shelter, fed you from my table, and gave you a bed to sleep in! But now all the thanks I get is the theft of my favorite flowers!”

“Forgive me! Please, do not kill me! I’ll do anything you say! The rose wasn’t for me but for my daughter, Kristiana. I wanted to bring her a special present from my journey.”

“I care not why you stole from me.” The man whistled, and two large dogs, drooling and growling, appeared from around the side of the castle. “I shall put you to death for this slight!”

Trembling with fear, the merchant fell on his knees before the beast of a man. “Those dogs! They were your dogs?”

“What nonsense do you speak, thief?”

“Your dogs killed my wife!” The merchant wanted to scream in anger, but his voice barely came out as a raspy whisper. “They attacked her in our garden. Thankfully, our only child was gone and did not witness it. I returned too late to save my wife, but I saw the dogs before they disappeared into the woods again. All these years;”

The man dropped the paw of a hand he had clamped on the distraught merchant, but his voice remained a deep growl. “I shall spare your life, but on one condition. Bring me your daughter! I will not harm her, but she will remain a servant in my castle.”

The merchant’s heart leapt with joy at his own fortune. But then he felt his stomach twist with terror. He’d have to trade his life for his daughter’s! They would both still be alive, but; No, she would never forgive him for leaving her alone in the world if he did not obey.

With his head hung low, the merchant nodded. “So be it. I will send my daughter to you.”

“Take the rose. Have her bring it back so that I know it is her. Follow the path south until you get to a clearing, and then head west. This will lead you home.” And then the beast of a man disappeared around the side of the castle with the dogs.

The journey home seemed shorter than he’d expected. After settling the horse in the barn, he trudged up to the house, his shoulders heavy.

Kristiana rushed out to meet him. “Father! Where have you been? I’ve been so worried!”

He fell into his daughter’s arms, holding her to him, trying to remember how his grown little girl felt one last time. Then he ushered her into the house and proceeded to tell her of the events of the previous night and this morning.

When he’d finished, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the rose.

“I’d do anything for you!” Kristiana hugged her father. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to keep your promise. I will be fine. We will both return to the castle once you have rested.”

“I fear what will happen to you. He promised not to harm you, but he said you would be his servant. I pray that he will be kind to you, at least. I will always love you, Kristiana, no matter what.”

The merchant refrained from telling her what he had learned about the dogs. She need not distress over what she did not know and could not change.

Prince Dalemond paced the Great Hall, growling out his frustration. Would the old man honor his promise? He should have killed him and been done with it. That was how his own father would have handled a thief. Whether a loaf of bread, a bag of coins, or a rose off a bush, stealing was stealing.

But the knowledge that his precious dogs had killed the man’s wife, had left his only daughter without a mother; It reminded him of his own loneliness. He had let his emotions overpower justice, and he’d caved in. At least he would have a servant in the house now.

He heard horses approaching, and then the squeal of the gate. He stepped into the shadows, waiting. There were voices outside, and then the pounding of the heavy knocker on the door.

“Enter!” His voice bellowed and echoed through the empty hall.

The wooden door slowly groaned open on its ancient hinges. By the day’s dying light creeping through the open doorway, he saw the merchant step inside. A young woman in a dark, green, hooded cloak followed. She carried the red rose from his garden.

“You, Sir, have fulfilled your promise. You may leave us.”

The woman hugged her father without any tears, and then the merchant hustled out the door.

Prince Dalemond watched her from the shadows, the candlelight from the wall sconces bathing her in a soft glow. His heart pounded heavily in his chest. He’d never seen anyone so lovely.

Her dark brown hair hung in long ringlets on either side of her face. The color of her cloak emphasized the green of her hazel eyes as she slowly took in her surroundings. When she lifted her hand to push back the hood, her arm moved the edge of the cloak aside.

He gasped at the tight bodice of her cream-colored gown; at the swell of her breasts rising above the confines of the low neckline.

She was truly a beauty.

Something clenched in his gut, and he knew he would not be keeping her for a servant as he had planned. He did not want to tarnish one inch of her ivory complexion, flawless except for her cheeks tinged pink from her journey. He had not anticipated such a prize as her.

He stepped out of his hiding place. When the candlelight flooded over him, he heard her gasp. “Welcome to my home, Kristiana. You are my guest. Please, may I take your cloak?”

Kristiana took a step back, clutching one hand at the clasp at her throat. She stared for a moment, looking him over. She swallowed and then lifted her chin up, keeping her gaze from his. “How shall I address you, Sir?”

“My name is Price Dalemond. ‘Your Highness’ will suffice.” He reached out and took her petite hand in his large one. She was shaking, and he gently squeezed her slender fingers. He raised her hand to his lips and placed the lightest kiss across her knuckles. He refrained from closing his eyes and sighing at the lavender scent of her soft skin.

“Well, Your Highness, you say I am a guest, but we both know that I am a prisoner.” Kristiana pulled free from his grasp and squared her shoulders. “If you would so kindly show me to my chamber, I would like to retire for the evening.”

She may have been a beauty, but he had never seen such hostility. Especially after he had extended his generosity to both her and her father. She was just as ungrateful as he had been. She should be happy to have her father still alive!

With a low growl, he spun around and marched toward the grand staircase. He had prepared a room down the North Hall hear his own chambers. But now; now he led her down to the last room in the South Hall. The furthest room from the only other person in the entire castle. If she felt like a prisoner, he would treat her like one.

Once they’d reached her new chamber, she waited until he opened the door, and then she entered with a minute tip of her chin. The room was dark and the air frigid. As angry as he was, he knew he could not leave her to freeze to death. Even his dogs deserved a fire on a cold night such as this.

She stood just inside the doorway. He stepped past her, feeling the heat of her through the material of his shirt as his arm brushed against hers. Pushing away the resulting rush of desire to have that warmth against the rest of his body, he crossed the chamber in four long strides. After he had lit a fire, he turned back to her.

Kristiana had moved to the window and drawn the curtain aside. He suddenly wanted to go to her, to apologize for his gruffness. But then he remembered the way she’d scorned him.

“Dinner will be served shortly.” He made sure his tone relayed that it was a command.

“I’m not hungry.” She kept her back to him. She stared out the window into the darkness instead.

A muscle in his clenched jaw twitched. “Suit yourself!” And then he stormed across the room, slamming the door behind him.

The moment that he was gone, Kristiana collapsed to the floor, her face in her hands. Warm tears wet her already hot cheeks.

“I love you, Father! I will stay here to keep your promise, even though I detest the master of the house. I will never be happy here.”

She glanced at the door, remembering how the prince had towered at least a foot above her. How her hand had disappeared in his when he’d welcomed her. How while she feared him, something inside drew her to him. And that frightened her even more.

Her stomach growled, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting she had lied. She removed her cloak and laid it across the winged armchair by the fire instead. Then she crossed to the four-poster bed, climbing up onto the simple mattress covered by a thin quilt. An even thinner blanket lay folded at the footboard.

An derisive grunt escaped when she thought of it. Meager accommodations for the prisoner. What else should she have expected?

The pillow was soft, though, when she laid her head down. She watched the fire flickering across the small room, thankful for at least that source of heat. Shivers shook her body, and she hugged her arms to her chest, curling into a ball on top of the quilt. Tears trickled down her cheek again as she thought of her predicament.

At some point, she must have drifted off because she felt someone watching her and she sat up with a gasp. But there was no one else there. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and why. She looked around at the fire blazing in the fireplace; her cloak on the chair; the plate of food on the table beside the chair; the blanket lying over her body.

She may be alone now, but someone had been in the room. Did she dare hope that it had been Prince Dalemond? Who else could it have been? Father had mentioned there had been no one else in the castle the night before.

If it had been her host, why did she even care? He was a brute of a man. Only a monster would demand on killing a man for picking a flower; or imprison a young woman as a hostage in his castle. She would be wise to keep her distance from him. Surely, she could find something to do to while away the days she was being held captive. Because deep down, she just knew he would grow tired of her and this wicked game he was playing. Then he would set her free.

Kristiana was halfway across the chamber, no longer able to resist the tray of meats, cheeses, and fruit and the pitcher she hoped contained wine, when the thought occurred to her.

What if he did tire of his game; but he left her hidden away, forgetting about her instead of setting her free? She would never see Father again!

Fresh tears choked her throat. Somehow, she managed to clean the tray before curling up in the chair. Her eyes felt drowsy from the wine. Pulling her cloak over her, she succumbed to sleep. She dreamed that someone was watching her again. And then a warm body carried her. A disarray of memories followed, mainly of her mother.

She woke the next morning to sunlight streaming in the window, the curtains drawn aside. The fire still burned and a new tray of breads and fruit sat on the table. She stretched, yawning and then froze. She was lying in the bed under layers of thick blankets. It had not been a dream. Someone had carried her there.

After a quick breakfast, she washed her face at the basin filled with cool water. When she turned back to the bed, she noticed the wardrobe’s doors were partially ajar. She slowly pulled the doors open all of the way and gasped. Inside hung dresses in a multitude of colors.

She couldn’t help wondering why someone so mean he would keep her captive would also show such acts of kindness. 'His Highness’ was an enigma. And a small part of her begged to understand him.

Choosing a pale yellow dress, she changed her clothes and brushed out her hair. It was time to explore her prison, such as it was.

Prince Dalemond had searched every room but one by noontime. Kristiana was nowhere to be found. He hoped she had not run away. Despite his frustration at her stubbornness last night, he had enjoyed watching her sleep. She had seemed so peaceful. So innocent. Besides, it wasn’t her fault she was here. If her father hadn’t stolen the rose;

He grunted and thought of her creamy breasts rising and falling in her sleep. How her lips had parted with a soft sigh when he’d moved her from the chair. How light her small body had felt in his arms. He’d wanted to kiss her but had refrained.

Now; now he wanted to scream. Where was she? How dare she hide from him!

He pushed open the final door, the door to the library, his breath huffing. And then he froze.

Kristiana sat in the window seat, the skirts of her yellow dress pooled around her, a small stack of books beside her. Her head rose with a start, and she dropped the book she’d been reading.

For the longest moment, they just stared at each other. Her heavy breathing drew his eyes downward. A low moan escaped as his gut tightened.

“Was there something you wanted?”

Her quiet voice broke the spell over him. He lifted his eyes to hers again, swallowing his honesty. Instead, he forced a smile and said, “It’s time for the noon meal. Care to join me in the Great Hall?”

She blinked, opened her mouth,

Based on a post by lily ann. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I spent most nights of my senior year in high school babysitting. It was my parent’s fault, really. Apparently having a real job would affect my grades too much, so I was stuck earning my money by spending my nights in various houses, feeding Kraft Dinner and hot dogs to hyper-active kids while their parents took a night off.

It wasn’t terrible, by any means. In fact, I took it quite seriously. I don’t mind children, and at most places I had full access to the fridge while I finished off my homework after putting the kids to bed. The pay wasn’t bad, either. I liked to play games with the kids and most of the time, the kids asked for me back before their parents did. I had a pretty steady clientele, most within walking distance of my house. It was convenient for me; I had procrastinated getting my driver’s license so long that I was 18 and still only had my learner’s license.

It was late February when Mr. Riley called the first time. I gave my cell phone number out to my clients, and he was lucky enough to call me on one of my nights off. I was in the bathtub when I answered.

“Hello?”

“My name is George Riley. I’m looking for Anna Marchand,” replied the person on the other end. I immediately liked his voice. It wasn’t too deep, but it was soft and smooth. I was almost tempted to consider it calming, but he sounded slightly stressed.

“You’ve reached her,” I said.

“Oh; hi, Anna.  I’m a friend of the Anderson’s, and they recommended you as a babysitter. I’ve got a few late meetings next Friday, and my regular sitter isn’t available. I was wondering if you’d be available to watch my son.”

I shifted in the tub, hoping he didn’t hear the water splash. “I usually take Friday nights off, but it sounds like you could use the help.”

“I really could,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you more than your regular rate or anything;”

"It’s fine,” I interrupted. “I don’t mind, sir, really. I’d love to babysit for your son.”

“Thank you so much,” he said, sounding thoroughly relieved. “His name is Kyle, and he’s three. I would need you from around five until pretty late.”

“Not a problem,” I said. I got the rest of the details from him, and made a note of his address. He lived on the other side of town, but I was sure my mom would be okay with driving me.

Friday came along and I went home after school. I had worn a cute skirt to school and debated on wearing it to the Riley’s, but decided against it;  three year olds could be really active and I didn’t want to deal with the skirt. Instead I put on my favorite pair of jeans, dark blue and fitting snugly, with a tight blue scoop neck t-shirt. I never tried to dress provocatively when I went to babysit, but I did try to look fairly nice. I rarely got to go out with friends or boys, because I always seemed to be taking care of someone else’s kids. Usually I was alright with it; not dating just meant I didn’t have to deal with all the drama my friends did, and there were very few guys I knew that I was really interested in, anyway.

I knew there was a reason for it. I would never tell any of my friends, but I found a lot of the men I babysat for much more appealing than any guy my age. I babysat for a lot of babies and toddlers, so their parents tended to be either late twenties or early thirties; not that much older than me, at any rate. A lot of the men were good-looking, and more than once I found my mind fixed on one of them while I got off before falling asleep.

I didn’t know about Mr. Riley, though. The Anderson’s were a couple in their early forties, and since they had referenced me, I figured Mr. Riley might be a bit older than the usual men I babysat for. Even still, I put a little bit of effort into my outfit. The t-shirt clung nicely to my tits, which were a nice size; 36 C, and fairly firm. I had a push-up bra underneath, which showed just a hint of cleavage. It fit slightly looser around my stomach. While I would never consider myself fat, I didn’t have the hard, flat tummies that all my friends seemed to work towards. I didn’t mind, though. It was a small price to pay for having great hips and a round ass. I knew that if I tried to lose any weight, I’d lose those curves, and that was not something I was willing to give up to have a flat stomach. After putting on just a bit of makeup and brushing my long hair off my face, I grabbed my backpack and went to ask my mom to drive me over.

My mom dropped me off at quarter to five. I walked up the driveway. The house was in a fairly good neighborhood and looked pretty nice. I rang the doorbell and waited patiently.

The door was opened a few moments later by a man who, I was surprised to see, looked to be in his early thirties. He was good looking, about 6'2’’ and fairly toned, with deep brown eyes and dark brown hair. He was wearing a nice suit, but looking slightly frazzled.

“Mr. Riley?” I asked.

“Yeah, you must be Anna?”

I smiled. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

He smiled and opened the door. I turned around and waved at my mom, who had been waiting to make sure we had the right address. Mr. Riley led me into the house and offered to take my jacket. I smiled and gave it to him, looking around the house as he put it away. It was nice, but a little messy. There were toys everywhere and I could hear a TV playing a kid’s show in the next room.

“Sorry about the mess,” Mr. Riley said, returning without my jacket. “I haven’t had time to clean anything up.”

“It’s fine,” I said, smiling.

“No, it’s embarrassing.” He smiled at me apologetically. I grinned. He was very attractive, especially when he smiled. I was glad I had put a bit of effort into my outfit, and briefly let myself wonder what he was like in bed.

My thoughts were interrupted by a little boy rushing into the front hall. Mr. Riley turned and lifted the boy.

“This is Kyle,” he said. Kyle looked at me shyly, but he was smiling. He was absolutely adorable, with big brown eyes just like his father’s, and lighter brown hair that fell in his face. He had a smudge of dirt across his cheek and his father wiped it off tenderly.

“Hi Kyle,” I said. “I’m Anna. I’m going to be here with you tonight.”

“Say hi, Kyle,” Mr. Riley said, nudging the little boy.

“Hi,” Kyle said quietly.

Mr. Riley put him down and Kyle ran back into the other room.

“I’ve got to finish getting ready for my meetings,” he said. “If you wouldn’t mind watching Kyle?”

“Of course,” I replied, “that’s what I’m here for.” I walked into the other room and sat on the couch. Kyle looked up from the floor, where he was playing with some cars. I smiled at him, and he stood up, picking his toys up and walking over to the couch.

“Wanna play?” he asked softly.

By the time Mr. Riley poked his head in to tell me he was leaving, Kyle and I were playing cars. Kyle hardly noticed his father leaving, making my job easier. Kids always hate it when their parents go.

He was a good kid, and very talkative. We played cars until I decided it was time for him to eat. Over dinner, Kyle told me about his mom. I wasn’t exceptionally surprised to find out that his parents were divorced, but I was shocked to find out how much Kyle knew about it; especially how easily he told me about how his mother just walked out. It’s surprising how much information kids can absorb, and I felt so bad for the poor kid that I gave him an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert.

It was probably a bad decision on my part; the extra sugar hyped him up so much that I had trouble getting him to bed. By the time he finally fell asleep, it was an hour and a half past his bedtime, and I was exhausted from chasing him around. I felt bad for disobeying what Mr. Riley had asked, but figured I could explain it when he got home.

After Kyle was asleep, I tidied up the den and kitchen before settling myself on the couch. I turned the TV on and started studying. It didn’t take me long to finish my homework, so I spent some time channel surfing and reading some magazines that Mr. Riley had on the coffee table, checking on Kyle every once in a while. I was so tired that I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I was startled awake when I heard the front door open.

I sat up and a magazine fell off my lap just as Mr. Riley entered the room. He smiled at me. “Did I wake you up?” he asked.

I yawned. “I guess so,” I answered, laughing. “I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep.”

He laughed and entered the room, bending down to pick up the magazine I dropped. “Did Kyle wear you out?”

I smiled at him. “Well, it’s my fault, really.” I blushed. “I felt kind of bad for him, so I gave him a little extra ice cream after dinner. He went to bed a little later than you said. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr. Riley said. “It’s rare that he likes babysitters, so a little extra ice cream might have been okay.” He frowned for a moment. “Why did you feel bad for him?”

I bit my lip nervously. “Well, he just started talking about; about his mom; and I just;”

Mr. Riley smiled, holding a hand up to cut me off. "I understand.” I took a good look at Mr. Riley. He had a young-looking face, but he looked tired and really tense. His tie was loosened slightly and he had taken off his jacket, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. He caught me looking at him and laughed a bit. “I’m a mess, I know,” he sighed, sitting on the couch. “It’s been hard since; well; she just left. I love my son but she was the one who stayed home with him. I’m still trying to figure out how I’m supposed to balance him and my job.”

I smiled, a little unsure of what to say, and he seemed to notice. “Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I answered. “Well, you know, if you need help I can always come over and babysit.”

He smiled at me again. “I’ll keep it in mind. And thanks for cleaning up, you didn’t have to do that.”

I smiled back. “It wasn’t a problem.”

“Well, thanks. It really helped.”

I picked up my bag. “Would you mind if I used your phone to call my mom?”

“Yeah, go right ahead. It’s in the kitchen.” He leaned back against the couch as I walked away.

I walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing my mom’s cell number. My mom picked up after a few rings.

“I’m ready to come home now,” I said.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry!” she answered. “Haven’t you looked outside? It’s a blizzard out there.”

I glanced out the window, surprised to see a ton of snow and the wind howling. “I fell asleep, I hadn’t noticed.”

“That explains why you didn’t answer your cell phone. I keep telling you not to have it on silent. Hon, the car won’t start in this weather and it’s snowed in the driveway.”

“It’s fine, Mom, I’ll call a cab,” I told her.

“Okay, well let me know when it picks you up.”

I assured her I would, and hung up. I walked back to the living room, where Mr. Riley was still sitting on the couch.

“Do you have a phone book?” I asked. “My mom’s car won’t start, I need to call a taxi.”

“Of course,” he said, standing up. We walked back to the kitchen and he grabbed it out of a drawer, leaning against the counter as I dialed.

The phone rang once before a recorded message picked up.

“Thank you for calling Yellow Cab Company,” said a woman’s voice. “Because of the storm in your region this evening, we are unable to provide taxi service. If you are calling in regards to anything else, please press zero to speak with an operator.”

I hung up slowly, turning to Mr. Riley. “The cab company shut down,” I told him.

He nodded. “I thought they might have. The roads are awful.” He thought for a moment. “If it’s alright with you, you’re welcome to spend the night here. We have an extra room. I’d drive you but I don’t want to wake Kyle.”

I considered it for a moment. “It really seems like the only option,” I said quietly. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

He smiled at me. “Not at all. You were so helpful tonight, it’s the least I can do. Call and tell your mother, I’ll go get the guest room ready.”

I called my mom back, telling her I would be staying at the Riley’s.

“Well, alright,” she said, thought slightly reluctantly. “Remember to help Mrs. Riley make breakfast tomorrow.”

I pursed my lips, thinking it would be best if I didn’t tell her that there was no Mrs. Riley. “Alright, Mom, see you tomorrow.”

I hung up the phone and walked down the hallway, where a light was coming from the room next to Kyle’s. Mr. Riley came out as I was walking towards it.

“There’s fresh sheets and everything in there,” he whispered. “But I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you to wear.”

“That’s fine,” I replied quietly. “I can just sleep in this.”

He blushed. “Well, my wife left some of her things; I haven’t cleared them out of our room yet. If you’d like you can grab something of hers.”

I blushed in reply, but nodded, seeing as sleeping in my jeans would be kind of uncomfortable. Mr. Riley quietly moved past me and motioned for me to follow him down the hall.

We entered a big master suite, and I bit my lip a bit when I saw it. Not only had Mr. Riley referred to it as “our room,” as though his wife was still there, half the room looked like it hadn’t be touched since she left. His side had clothes on the floor and papers on the wardrobe, but hers was completely clean. There were even bottles of perfume still sitting on the vanity.

He turned around and smiled apologetically. “I should clean up, huh,” he said in a bit of a louder voice, obviously trying to joke a bit.

I laughed softly. “It’s fine.”

He motioned to the closet. “You can pick whatever you’d like. I’ll grab you a toothbrush.” With that, he turned and walked into the ensuite bathroom.

I opened the closet door. It was all woman’s clothes, organized by what must have been occasion, and then by color. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit when I saw it.

There was a section specifically for pajamas. Mrs. Riley had a lot of matching lingerie sets, garters and see-through teddies, and I blushed looking at them. No doubt that she had worn them for Mr. Riley, and I wondered what kind of things they had done after he had slowly pulled them off her. I rifled through her clothes looking for something a bit less revealing. They felt musty, as though she hadn’t even moved them around for ages, even before she left. Dust bounced into the air as I rifled through the clothes. After looking through everything, I finally decided on a pair of shorts and a pink tank top. I pulled it out reluctantly, having hoped for at least a t-shirt, but deciding it would have to do.

“Mommy?”

I whirled around, suddenly hearing a small voice behind me. Kyle’s head was poked through the slightly ajar door, looking at me. I smiled at him.

“No, Anna. Remember me, Kyle?” I asked softly.

His face welled up immediately, and I looked at him helplessly for a moment. At that point, Mr. Riley came out of the ensuite.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, buddy?” he asked.

“Want Mommy!” Kyle shouted, then began to wail.

Mr. Riley glanced at me. “Go ahead and change in there,” he said, pointing to the ensuite bathroom. “He doesn’t usually take long for me to calm down, but I’ll need to take him to the washroom.”

I watched as Mr. Riley picked Kyle up and began to walk down the hall. I walked slowly into the ensuite. It was nicely decorated, with a lot of men’s toiletries on the counter. I slowly stripped out of my jeans and t-shirt and took of my bra before pulling on the pajama set.

I immediately regretted choosing to wear Mrs. Riley’s pajamas. She must have been much skinnier than me, and a lot shorter. I pulled the tank top over my tits with a lot of effort. The material was stretched across my chest and the hem ended a few inches above my naval. The shorts were a little easier to get into, but were still fairly tight, and a lot shorter than I thought they would be; they were practically briefs. I couldn’t do up the drawstring, so I just left it undone.

I stared in the mirror for a few minutes, nervously appraising my appearance. I glanced around the bathroom, looking for a robe of some sort, but found nothing.

“Anna?” I heard Mr. Riley call softly. I opened the door and poked my head out to see Mr. Riley standing in the center of the room. He smiled. “You found something, then?”

I blushed. “Umm; sort of.” He looked at me, confused. “I found something, but I didn’t realize; well, it’s just that; I guess she was a bit smaller than me?”

He nodded quickly. “I didn’t think of that,” he admitted, but then shrugged. “It’s just for sleeping, though, it shouldn’t matter.”

I glanced in the mirror again. I had a feeling that Mr. Riley wouldn’t think the same thing after he saw his wife’s clothes on me, but I shrugged. “I guess you’re right,” I said, turning and opening the door.

When I stepped into the room, Mr. Riley’s mouth dropped open and I blushed immediately. He looked me up and down, staring at my body, and primarily at my tits.

Normally, I would have been embarrassed and slightly uncomfortable, being looked at like. I would have been even more uncomfortable noticing the sudden bulge in his pants. I mean, I wonder sometimes, but thinking about the men I babysit for and actually have them stare at me are two very different things. Mr. Riley, however, was a very good-looking man. I guess my next few actions I blame on that, and the fact that as someone who babysat nearly all the time, I hardly ever got the opportunity to get laid. I let Mr. Riley stare at me for a good minute before I giggled a bit.

“So, it’s not too small then?” I said, blushing as he tore his eyes off my body and looked up at me before glancing back at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice breaking a bit. “No; it’s fine;” I couldn’t help b

Based on a post by LindseyLuv. Listen to the Postman in Connected.

Samantha awoke with a start, the beeping of her alarm clock ringing in her ears. Groggily, she rolled over and hit the snooze button. Five more minutes. Rolling over onto her back, she gazed up at the ceiling, trying to find the motivation to crawl out of bed and get ready for work. Her mind wandered to the day ahead, the meetings, the paperwork, the boredom of sitting in her cubicle waiting for five o'clock to roll around. Just like every day. She sighed. At least it paid the rent. At 48 years old, she s begun to think her chances of finding a mate were slipping away. Her body still has great curves, even if the portions are now more bountiful. Her face was always alluring, but she s not been smiling as much, lately.

Soon enough, Samantha’s alarm clock went off again, breaking her out of her sleepy haze. Rolling her legs off the side of her bed into her warm slippers, she stood up with a yawn, and headed downstairs to make herself breakfast.

Sat at the small dining table of her flat’s modest kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, she couldn’t help but stare off into the distance. Checking the clock, she felt a sudden familiar rush of excitement. It was nearly eight. Tapping her foot, she waited eagerly for the one thing that invariably brightened her day. Rudy.

Almost on cue, she heard the doorbell ring, and practically leapt to her feet. After adjusting her dressing gown to make sure she was decent, she quickly made her way to the front door. Through the glass she could see a familiar silhouette standing on her porch, a large bag slung over his broad shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat. Quickly adjusting her hair, she reached out her and opened the door.

“Hi” Sam said with a warm continence.

“Good morning. Parcel for you, Miss Foster. I assume it s for you? It says S Foster. Is there any other S foster at this address?”

Sadly, I ve lived alone for several years. My late husband suffered health issues, and passed away 5 years ago.

Ah, that s difficult to get past, isn t it, Miss Foster? You know; Jenny and I, she s my 17 year old daughter; We lost my dear Caroline, 16 years ago. Jenny still has emotional issues with me moving on; you know? Going on dates, and such.

Oh, Rudy, you re raising a daughter by yourself? You re a brave and devoted parent. Is she still in high school?

Graduating this spring! She might be valedictorian, if she keeps up her grades. Heading off to state university next fall on a nursing scholarship. But that s when I hope to move on to what s next for me.

Samantha smiled. In front of her stood a tall, handsome man, wearing a postman’s uniform. His hair was a dusty blonde color, shaved short at the sides, and his eyes shone the deep blue of the ocean at night. Beneath his clothes, his muscular build was evident, and as he spoke the warm smile on his lips and the light stubble decorating his sharp jawline made her heart flutter.

Rudy handed her the letters, and the parcel. Reaching out, she took the parcel from his hands, her fingers brushing against his as she did, causing them both to laugh awkwardly.

She looked up at him. “Oh, thank you, Rudy.

Smiling, he tipped his hat and said; I better keep moving. Rain showers are expected every afternoon this week. Good day, Miss Foster. It s been really nice to visit.

"Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time tomorrow. 8AM sharp. As long as I have a package to deliver, of course.”

They both chuckled, and as he made his way back down the garden path, Samantha couldn’t help but sigh, as she watched him go.

Closing the door, she made her way back into the kitchen, putting the parcel down on the table, and returning to her breakfast. Quickly finishing her toast, she left the water boiling to make her way upstairs to the bathroom.

Letting her dressing gown fall around her feet, Samantha stepped into the shower and turned on the faucet. As the warm water began to cascade down her body, she let out a long, content sigh. Few things in life felt as good as a warm shower.

Closing her eyes, she just stood there for a while, letting the water run down her naked body, across her shoulders, between her tits, down her thighs to her feet. Once again, she thought about the day ahead of her, and grimaced. God, she needed a break. She’d been working in the same office for almost five years now, with no promotion and barely a pay rise. It wasn’t a bad job by any means, but after a while the monotony had begun to wear on her soul. What she needed was an escape, something new and exciting to revitalize her.

Perhaps a holiday, she thought, reaching for the strawberry and coconut shower gel to her right. Somewhere exciting, and exotic, like India or South America. She smiled to herself. Perhaps she could just go spontaneously, book a week off work and head to the airport, jump on the first flight she could and see where the universe took her. She laughed.

As she began to lather herself with soap, her thoughts wandered once again, back to the handsome postman who came to her door every day. She thought about his smile, and the way his eyes sparkled when she asked if she’d see him again tomorrow. Her hands moved across her stomach, and she couldn’t help but think of the way his hands brushed against hers, the tenderness with which he handed her post to her.

She felt her cheeks beginning to flush as her imagination took her further, to the tightness of his shirt, stretched across his muscular chest, and sharp cut of his jaw. Her hands began to drift further down, across her thighs as she began to picture him shirtless, his strong arms wrapped around her, his own hands on her body, caressing her, holding her tight against him as he kissed her neck from behind. She let out a soft gasp as her fingertips traced higher along her legs, getting closer and closer to her privates as her thoughts grew steamier by the second. Barely inches from herself, she imagined him pushing her down gently onto the bed, climbing on top of her from behind, his mouth on her ear…

Suddenly, she snapped back to reality. She still had to be at work in half an hour. Finishing her shower, she turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel from the rack to dry herself as she quickly made her way to her bedroom to get dressed.

Leaving the house, locking the door behind her, Samantha couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy at leaving her fantasy behind as well. Sitting in the morning traffic, her brain a mess of emotions, she tried not to think about it, and to focus on the day ahead instead. She’d always been a model employee, reliable and good at her work, but lately she’d been falling behind, and she couldn’t afford to have another unproductive day.

But later, sat alone in her cubicle, she found it increasingly hard to focus on her work. Every time she tried to work on a report, she’s just end up staring at the screen, reading the same sentences, over and over, unable to think of anything but the man who came to her door every day.

By the time her lunch break had rolled around, she’d barely done any work at all. Grabbing her coat, she made her way towards the staircase, heading out to the cafe down the road, where she usually got her sandwiches. Stepping through the door to her concrete office building and out onto the windy street, she turned her collar up to the cold. As she started to walk, she could feel the familiar melancholy feeling rising again. Here she was, on her way to the same sandwich shop she visited every day, to get the same thing for lunch, before heading back to the same building to do the same boring job. Every single day. She wanted to scream.

She needed to escape, find something to break up the monotony of her life, even for just a moment. A string of failed relationships had seen her throw herself into her work, but now she couldn’t stand the idea of doing this for the rest of her life. She needed something to spice things up, something wild and spontaneous, to bring the spring back to her step. An idea quickly flashed across her mind, but she dismissed it as fantasy.

But then, suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Why did it just have to be a fantasy? Why couldn’t she make it a reality? What was stopping her? She nodded to herself. She’d made up her mind. Nothing was going to change if she didn’t force it to. She needed to break out, live her life the way she wanted to. And she knew exactly what she was going to do first.

Hurrying to the cafe, she made her order, choosing the first thing she saw on the menu. She gave the girl behind the counter her money, and made her way back to the office, eating as she went. She began to plan exactly what she was going to do, how best to put her plan into motion. By the time she arrived back at her cubicle her mind was set. She sat down, turning her computer back on, and went back to trying to work, her mind a whirlwind of excitement. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, shaking slightly as her heart pounded in anticipation.

It didn’t take long to make up for the slow morning, and by the time the clock chimed five, Samantha was reasonably pleased with the work she’d accomplished. Grabbing her coat again, she made her way towards her boss’s office.

As she rapped her knuckles against the door, she heard a gruff voice from within.

“Yes, come in.”

Opening the door, she saw the director of her company closing up his laptop and putting it away into his bag.

“Ah, Samantha, how can I help?”

“Hi, Mr. Bergstein, sorry to bother you. I just wanted to let you know I might be a bit late to work tomorrow.”

Her boss raised an eyebrow.

“Tomorrow? You’ve left it awfully late to tell me. What’s going on?”

Samantha felt her heart leap into her throat.

“Something’s come up at home, and I just need to take care of it tomorrow morning. I’ll be in by ten, don’t worry.”

Mr. Bergstein gave a slight chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I won’t, as long as you’re happy to stay late to make up for it?”

Samantha grinned. That was easier than expected.

“Of course, sir! See you tomorrow!”

“Goodbye, Miss Foster.”

Closing the door to the office, Samantha felt giddy. Grabbing her coat and bag, she hurried outside to her car, throwing open the door and climbing inside. The ride home was a blur, she struggled to focus on the road as a mixture of emotions shot through her brain. By the time she got home she was positively ecstatic.

That evening was one of the hardest of Samantha’s life. She sat on the couch, trying to focus on the tv, trying to ignore the anticipation hovering in her gut. Soon enough, it was time for bed, and as she climbed under the sheets, her satin nightgown smooth against her skin, she hoped she’d fall asleep quickly.

After tossing and turning for close to an hour, she finally managed to overcome the butterflies in her stomach that kept her from sleep. The next morning, when her alarm clocked beeped out its familiar chime, it took no time at all for Samantha to wake up. Practically leaping out of bed, she made her way to the bathroom. It was earlier than usual, she wanted to give herself a bit of extra time just to make sure everything was perfect.

Shedding her nightie, she climbed eagerly into the warm water of the shower, closing her eyes as her body relaxed under the steady stream. She didn’t let her mind wander today, her thoughts too focused on her plan. Grabbing the shower gel, she made sure to wash herself thoroughly, before returning the bottle to its shelf and reaching for her razor.

By the time she’d finished, her legs were as smooth as silk, not too speak for her underarms or her privates. Turning off the water, she quickly dried herself with a towel from the rack, and headed back towards her bedroom.

Sitting herself down, still wrapped in her towel, she began to fix her make-up. She wanted to look her best, after all. She tried to keep it modest, but sexy; mascara, eyeliner, and ruby red lipstick. She took a moment to admire herself in the mirror, before blowing a playful kiss to her reflection.

Shedding the towel, she opened her closet. Time for the hardest choice. Rifling through her lingerie draw, she finally settled on an outfit; a black and red lace bra with matching panties, sheer black stockings, suspenders, and a black garter belt. She stood in front of the mirror, admiring herself. She looked stunning.

Quickly making the bed, she made her way towards the stairs, just in time for the doorbell to ring, sending a wave of excitement and anticipation throughout her entire body. Trying to keep her nerves under control, Samantha made her way towards the door. Through the glass she could see Rudy’s silhouette, and her heart skipped a beat. This was it. Reaching out a quivering hand, she grasped the door handle, and opened it.

“Good morning, Miss.. oh.”

Samantha stood there for a moment, catching her breath as Rudy looked her up and down. The way his eyes moved across her body told her everything she needed to know about his reaction. The bulge quickly forming in his trousers did the rest. His eyes flicked up to meet hers.

“Should I come in?”

His words gave her all the courage she needed. Breaking into a mischievous smile Samantha reached out and grabbed his collar with both hands, pulling him excitedly into the entrance hall, slamming the door shut behind him. Now pressed tightly together between the narrow walls of the hallway, she pulled his face down to hers, launching the two of them into a passionate kiss.

As their lips touched, Samantha felt her heart beating as loud as drum, amazed and excited by Rudy’s willingness. She let her mouth open, and he followed suit, allowing her tongue into his mouth as she deepened the kiss.

Samantha was in heaven. She could barely believe this was really happening, that she had the man, the object of all her carnal desires, here in her arms.

As they kissed, tongues dancing passionately, she felt Rudy’s hands slip from his bag to her waist, holding her bare sides firmly, drawing her closer to him, until their bodies were pressed tight, and she could feel his own fast heartbeat pounding in time with her own.

Closing her eyes tight, she let go of his collar, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, cupping one side of his face as she did. The rough texture of his stubble made her shiver, and in response she felt his hands beginning to roam. Slowly at first, just his thumbs rubbing in rhythmic circles, teasing her, before beginning to move his whole hands up and down her sides, his firm grip sending shivers throughout her body. As he began tracing a sensual pattern across her bare skin, she broke the kiss to let out a short breathy gasp of arousal.

Taking his opportunity, Rudy lent forward, his mouth next to her ear, and began to speak softly to her as his hands continued to explore her body. “How long have you been planning this?”

Samantha could barely respond. “Only since yesterday. But I’ve wanted you for so much longer.”

Rudy smiled. “I’ve wanted you too.”

Samantha opened her eyes, her face inches from the handsome man holding her in his arms, the man she’d secretly pined over for months, and couldn’t stop herself kissing him once more.

The two stood in the hallway, lips pressed tightly together, kissing passionately as Rudy’s hands moved across Samantha’s body, from her sides to her back, down to her ass. Soon, after what felt to her like a blissful eternity, Samantha grasped his collar once again, breaking the kiss to give him another mischievous smile.

“Come on” she said, escaping from his embrace to drag him towards the stairs, up to her bedroom. They’d barely made it through the door before she had him on his back, sprawled out on her bed as she stood over him, body pink and flushed with arousal.

Heart pounding, she took a step forward, gently dropping to her knees as she crawled towards him. Kneeling between his legs, she looked up at his face, also flushed, and began to slowly unzip his fly. She took her time, making sure to draw the act out for as long as possible, before gently tugging the heavy fabric down to his knees.

Samantha looked back down, at the large bulge now facing her, covered only by the thin cotton of Rudy’s boxers. With trembling fingers, she worked her way along the waistline, making sure to watch his face as she did, reveling in the excited frustration he showed at her teasing.

Finally, she pulled down the fabric, allowing his erection to spring forth. Samantha gasped. Barely inches from her face stood Rudy’s cock, hard and pulsing before her. It was larger than she’d expected, and as she stared she could feel the butterflies in her stomach fluttering harder than ever before.

Slowly, trying hard to keep her nervous hands steady, Samantha curled her fingers around the shaft, being careful not to lose sight of Rudy’s face. The postman let out a low groan as he finally felt her soft hands on his cock.

Filled with a new confidence, Samantha began to stroke. Starting slow, she soon found a comfortable rhythm, and before long had Rudy groaning as she worked his shaft with her hands. She stared up at him, admiring her skills. It had been a while since she’d had someone to use them on. Leaning forward, eyes still locked on his, she planted a soft kiss at his base, causing the cock in her hand to jump.

Letting out a satisfied giggle, she began to work her mouth along the side of his shaft, kissing as she went, until she reached the head of his cock. For a moment she hovered, staring in amusement at the purple head before her, before opening her mouth and taking him inside.

Immediately Rudy let out a moan, followed by a breathy exhale as Samantha adjusted to the size of his cock. Gently, she ran her tongue around the head, sensually exploring every inch with glee. His cock tasted divine, and Samantha couldn’t get enough. With care, she ran her tongue across the tip, savoring the salty sweet taste of precum while Rudy shivered beneath her. Closing her eyes, she decided it was time to go further.

Keeping hold of the base with one hand, she began to bob her head, relaxing as she took the first few inches inside. It felt hot in her mouth, and she couldn’t help but feel her cheeks flushing with excitement. Slowly moving up and down, she tried to draw out each rise as much as she could, forcing him to wait for each new stroke, before deciding again, each time taking him almost half way into her mouth before coming back up again.

Samantha felt amazing. Looking up at his face, eyes shut and mouth open in a mask of pleasure, she knew how much pleasure she was giving him with her mouth. She felt a surge of pride. Here she was, on her knees, going down on the man she’d lusted after for so long. And there he lay, moaning as she sucked him off. She’d never felt so sexy.

Returning to the cock in her mouth, she began moving with renewed vigor, speeding up her strokes as she began to work the shaft with her hand as well. Moving in tandem with her fingers, she bobbed her mouth up and down vigorously, in turn making Rudy groan audibly with pleasu

steamy-stories-blog:

by Eeveelynn. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

“Baths ready.” I heard echo out of the bathroom.

“Thankyou.” I mumbled, getting up from the bed, slower this time.

The bath was aromatic, full of bubbles and looked so peaceful. I leaned against the door frame closing my eyes.

“Cat, are you going to be ok in there?” He questioned softly.

“I’m fine!” I snapped back to reality. I was aware of my stubborn determination to be self sufficient, especially after having panic attack.

“It’s ok to need help.” Again the soft tone of his voice irked at my independence.

“I’m fully capable of having a bath, what are you going to do? join me? It’s ok, I’ve got this.” I said trying and failing to unzip the back of my dress.

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We pulled in to the gas station and he put the truck in park. You want to tell me we re at a gas station at one in the morning instead of in bed at my apartment?I pointed to the long, squat building adjacent to the gas station, its drive-in conveyorized tunnel car wash. I d done a little recon on it, knew how it ran, knew all the levels of service it provided, and knew exactly how long the Ultimate Supreme Wash Plus service lasted. I d run my own car through it last week. I knew that in exactly eight minutes your car got the Simoniz double bond, the wheel brite brake dust cleaner, the tire shine, UV protectant triple foam polish, and a hot wax and shine treatment.

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by Fugman’s, Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Many years ago I used to be a radio DJ, a job I truly loved for many different reasons. First, I worked overnights on the weekend, so other than the DJ that worked at the other station in the building, there was no one ever around. I would invite my girlfriend and she would hang out with me pretty much my whole shift.

I had an airshift one year around my birthday, and I invited Stacy to hang with me during my shift.

I worked from twelve am to 6am, and she came by about half an hour into my shift wearing my favorite little black dress that shoed my two favorite things, cleavage and her long legs. She usually stayed until I left for the night, so I figured she had something in mind.

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“Seems like you’ve got this down,” I said. I unclicked my pen and started putting away my things. “Your parents getting home soon?”

 “Umm, lemme check.” She took out her phone.

“If not,” I said, “maybe we can talk about what we talked about before.”

She smiled as she constructed her text. Like Margo, Julia had a sarcastic undertone to her demeanor. She was hilarious, but she rarely let you see it on her face. She had bright green eyes, but they were masked by heavy eyelids. A minute of fervent typing and paper shuffling and I was packed up and ready for the answer.

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The next morning, however, was not as peaceful or loving; that coldness had returned. She had said too much again and clamped up. After a tense flight he dropped her off and before she got out of the car he asked, “So where do we go from here?” Alicia was silent and couldn’t bring herself to look at him, it was obvious to him that she herself could not figure out what she wanted. He knew that the battle between her feelings for him and her fear of being hurt had to be intense. His feelings on the matter were no less as he, was on one hand so certain they loved each other that he’d be willing to wait forever for her, but on the other how long should he wait? Would she ever be ready? Ever ready to move past what Joe had done to her? A few hours ago he thought she had, but now, he was not so sure that was ever possible.

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The next morning what transpired could best be described as chaos as it seemed that for one reason or the other the other three couples had not had an exactly enjoyable first night. Frankly Jeremy was surprised everyone was able to put aside their differences to eat that morning’s pancakes. However, once breakfast was finished hostility again rose.

Beth was angry at Sam for trying to have sex with her the night before. Something Jeremy was surprised to learn they hadn’t done yet despite months of dating. Amber and Ryan’ tent had flooded and each blamed the other. Amber was more upset for being dragged along. Finally the normally rock-steady Tim and Erin were having a disagreement about calling home. Erin was clearly concerned about the baby and wanted to check in. Tim thought she was nuts and stated the phone wasn’t working anyway.

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