Commodities

My Sexuality Class Lab Partner: Part 1

DAN ENROLLS IN A SEXUAL SOCIOLOGY CLASS. By Quinn_McMullen [https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=6048530&page=submissions]. Listen to the ►Podcast [https://archive.org/download/summer-2023_202306/MySexualityClassLabPartnerPart1.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/Steamy-Stories]. [https://64.media.tumblr.com/ea85cc45a0bd9ab2b237df4399adf715/92a772dd6634da40-f0/s640x960/e45baa465dbe14466b91119ab7e881e5350ecd16.jpg] PROLOGUE: 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. THURSDAY PRE-CLASS 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.” LECTURE BEGINS “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.” FEMALE ORGASM FILM 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.” MALE ORGASM FILM 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

Maiden Voyage: Part 2

A CHOICE, A TRAP, AND A NECKLACE. By HectorBidon [https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=1238044&page=submissions]. Listen to the ►Podcast [https://archive.org/download/summer-2023_202306/MaidenVoyagePart2.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/Steamy-Stories]. [https://64.media.tumblr.com/c02edef6585aea50115b2249c68d12a7/b02223caee7442f6-55/s640x960/5fc75720174fcf4aa90a3dec89191c91ffdf6228.jpg] 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

Maiden Voyage: Part 1

STRANGERS FORCED TO SHARE A CABIN ON A CRUISE SHIP. By HectorBidon [https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=1238044&page=submissions]. Listen to the ►Podcast [https://archive.org/download/summer-2023_202306/MaidenVoyagePart1.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/Steamy-Stories]. [https://64.media.tumblr.com/20c04ee41dae35717323284f63bf6027/1b8f26825acd6fce-2a/s640x960/d8d78b839dfec067da5ed30dd71bf123526d92b4.jpg] 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

Mrs. Claus Cookie Therapy: Part 2

NANCY PLEDGES HER PASSIONATE BEST FOR MIKE. Based on a post by m storyman x [https://www.literotica.com/authors/m_storyman_x/works], in 2 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/MrsClaussCookieTherapy2.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://64.media.tumblr.com/d62e81366b414d845f69ce42311a1acc/bd8bb08e6cb25ad9-31/s640x960/99c7e2d4633bbeed8c7477160c75e4ffe654be43.jpg] 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

Mrs. Claus Cookie Therapy: Part 1

AN AGING COUPLE GETS A SURPRISE GIFT FROM MRS. CLAUS. Based on a post by m storyman x [https://www.literotica.com/authors/m_storyman_x/works], in 2 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/MrsClaussCookieTherapy1.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://64.media.tumblr.com/2e213ab0f9f6c11a0a77b6a04002a78a/99f463974dbd1ef3-c4/s640x960/dbbb74a53eae49405b58cf5c255d240df3beeaa0.jpg] I could hear Nancy, my wife, clinking the dishes in the kitchen as she unloaded the dishwasher. It was Christmas eve morning, and she was up and about before six. That meant only one thing as far as I was concerned, no Christmas sex this year, again. Not with the kids showing up this afternoon. I’ve found myself thinking back to the early years a lot more lately. You’d think that in my sixties, sex wouldn’t be a big deal anymore, but instead it seemed like my tolerance for her lack of desire or output was lower instead of better. I closed my eyes again and thought back to our first Christmas together as man and wife. It was a small tree, and there weren’t many presents around it, but we gave each other the best present in the world that Christmas night. We made love under the tree, not once, but multiple times. Nine months later our first daughter was born. All through our dating time she was sexually playful and we would have sex many ways and in lots of places. She never seemed bashful when she undressed for me, exposing her incredibly beautiful body. Hell, I never would have even tried to ask her out on a date if I hadn’t accidently spilled my drink all over her at McDonalds. She was way out of my class. She looked more like playboy model material than someone interested in a somewhat geeky college freshman. To my surprise, she demanded that I take her out to make up for spilling the soda all over her. So I did. And again, and again. After half a dozen dates, I built up enough nerve to suggest we mess around while we were walking in the dark through the local park. She readily agreed and the two of us made love for the first time on a picnic table in the middle of a public park. It was the first of many times we made love, in private, in semi-public areas, in the river, in the lake, well, you get the idea. She was willing to do it anywhere I felt comfortable doing it with her. She never seemed to be able to get enough of our intimacy. And it was so much more than just sex. You could see it in her eyes. She loved what I was doing with her and she loved watching me climax along with her. It became almost a game with her, to hold it as long as possible before letting herself tumble over the edge, taking me with her. But it was for me, and only me. Once we started dating there was no one else, not even close male friends that would hug or anything. It wasn’t until I proposed that I learned I was the first man to have her that way. We got married less than a year after spilling that soda on her, and we made love the first time as man and wife in the hot tub on the balcony of the bridal suite. Not one time, but twice before we finally tumbled into bed, exhausted from the day’s activities. The next months were fantastic. She seemed to delight in teasing me, skimpy or no underwear with short skirts, sexy lingerie, sometimes wearing things without a bra so her big 32 D tits would wiggle enticingly. Our first Christmas found her under the tree in a red see through negligee, a gift tag tied to the crotch of her see through panties that read “definitely open before Christmas!” We made love under that tree and we loved each other. Over the next months, her belly grew, but her desire for me didn’t change. If anything, it increased. It was almost as if being pregnant enhanced her sexual desire. And I wasn’t going to argue. She always whispered how much she loved me and how much making love with me made her feel loved. It wasn’t a surprise when sex drew to a sudden halt after Tabitha was born. I could understand it. I waited patiently, and some of the sex returned, but not nearly what it had been before. We had to plan when we had sex so we didn’t wake Mikey, interrupting us. A year later we had Julie, and sex became even less frequent. After Mandy, well, sex just didn’t seem to happen anymore. It was frustrating, but I always looked ahead and said that once the girls were grown and out of the house things would get better. College came for our sons, and we were empty nesters, but the long skirts, heavy duty bras to hold her now thirty eight triple D’s in place, and the granny panties appeared to be the future. Sex was maybe once or twice a month, if I was lucky, always in the bedroom and always the same way. It was, to say the least, depressing to see what my life had become. I was married to the most beautiful woman in town, maybe the state, and I barely got to even see her naked any more unless we shared a shower. Now here we were, twenty years past the girls moving out on their own and I was more depressed about our sex life than I could remember. I lay dreaming back to that first Christmas, picturing her lying under the tree in that see through red mesh, her legs spread, her body illuminated only by the blinking lights of the tree, looking so damn sexy and inviting. I could still feel in my mind the sensations of sliding my hard-on into her and hear her moans of pleasure as she begged me to fuck her over and over again. I could feel my hard-on inside my sleep shorts growing, my hand moving to it as I remembered the image of her tits bouncing inside the sheer material before she rolled me over to sit on top of me. I stroked my hard shaft, pretending it was her hot wet cunt again, her big tits now bouncing wildly on her chest, the sheer material pushed apart by her flying tits. My mind could still remember how she felt around me as she pounded down on me with abandon until she made me come deep inside her. I grunted and felt my cock surge cum onto my stomach, remembering that day and wishing for those days again. I knew in my heart it was a useless wish. Nothing was going to change, but I still couldn’t help but wish it none the less. I tossed back the covers, pushed the sleep shorts the rest of the way off and headed to the shower to rinse off the evidence of my desire. AFTER CHRISTMAS It had been a good Christmas. I loved having the kids and their families over, this year with the first of our grandchildren as well. It was midmorning, the day after Christmas, and I was moving around the tree, picking up the odds and ends wrapping paper that had gotten left behind and putting my Christmas presents away in the shop, or wherever else was a suitable home. The tree had been inundated with presents, as usual, stacked so high that only the top two thirds of the tree were visible. Both of us enjoyed giving presents to the kids and their spouses. My wife spent hours picking just the right things for all of them. Christmas was probably the best season of the year, at least I felt so. Though each year it became harder and harder not to think back to that first Christmas. No, I wasn’t going to change wives. I loved Nancy more than anything else in my life, though the kids would be a darn tough second. No, I was resigned to my life of near celibacy, at least compared to how my life with her had started. To make matters worse, my wife and the neighborhood ladies were all fitness-minded. They keep up a daily routine of evening walks and morning yoga. This means I wake up to a beautiful display of curvy bodies in the living room or back patio, adorned in the hottest yoga pants, leotards, or swimsuits. Good luck hiding your morning wood with multiple ladies watching. I tucked things away and I was about to call it done, when I noticed a small package sticking out from under the tree skirt. “uh oh.” I mumbled, “someone didn’t get a present.” I pulled the oddly wrapped package from under the skirt and looked at it. About six inches square and maybe an inch thick. I didn’t recognize the paper. It was a deep burgundy with some kind of fuzzy pattern on it and a bow that looked to be made of silk lace. It had a small tag which I turned over. “To Mike, from Mrs. Clause.” I chuckled. My wife and I often traded packages from Santa. I was surprised that she didn’t catch one of mine was missing. I gently slipped the bow and ribbon off the corners and gently unwrapped the paper. It was almost like foil paper with that interesting soft texture. It had to be expensive paper. I opened the box and inside was a single heart shaped cookie, white frosted with red sugar dusted over it. Under I could see a small parchment paper. I slipped it out. The parchment looked and felt ancient, but clearly couldn’t be or it would fall apart. The writing was in a looping feminine script. “Merry Christmas. Share this with the love of your life, to grant your Christmas wish, but be alone.” Mrs. Clause. I looked it over, front and back, but there were no other clues. Maybe this was my wife’s way of trying to start something? We hadn’t had any sex over Christmas yet, so maybe this was her way of giving me a present she knew I would enjoy. I grinned at the thought. I could play that game. I headed to the bedroom and took off my underwear so I was wearing only my thin nylon workout shorts. That should make things easier. I took the cookie from the box and opened the plastic wrapper. Setting the unwrapped cookie back in the box, I went to find her. Now was as good a time as any. I found her in the kitchen, putting dinner into the crockpot. I stepped behind her and gently kissed her neck. Breaking the cookie, I reached around her, pressing my already growing hard-on against her ass crack. I whispered. “I have something for you.” I held the piece of cookie out in front of her mouth for her to take the bite. “What’s that?” she asked, her hands unable to do anything as she held the chicken breasts. I slipped the portion of cookie into her mouth before she could object any further. “Oh my god! That is so good!” she moaned, almost orgasmic as she chewed the cookie slowly. “Knock knock!” I heard from the garage door as Linda, our neighbor called as she walked in. “Anyone home?” “In here!” My wife called, dropping the chicken into the crockpot and moving away from me to wash her hands. I scowled at the interruption, feeling my hope of what was to come, fade away in an instant. This seemed to be the story of my life. Just when I thought I had her interest, something interrupts and the “mood” never seems to come back. Linda wasn’t a bad looking woman. Not nearly as hot and sexy as my wife, but then not many women are, even at sixty three. Linda is slender, early fifties, modest sized chest, half a foot shorter than my six foot, and divorced for the last three years. “Now, where did you get that?” My wife asked, as she turned to face me, wiping her hands on a small towel, while Linda stepped into the kitchen. “From you.” I answered, feeling a little confused. “It was under the tree with a tag for me.” “I didn’t give you a cookie,” my wife said with a frown. “You have a secret girlfriend giving you things?” She continued as she took the box from me. She snapped off another piece of the cookie and ate it, closing her eyes and letting out a soft moan. “Oh god this is so good.” “What is?” Linda asked as she stepped over. “This cookie. Try this. It’s the most exquisite taste!” My wife said as she snapped off a piece of the cookie and held it out to Linda. “Oh damn!” Linda groaned after she popped the piece of cookie in her mouth, chewing it so slowly, clearly savoring each moment. “Here hon. Taste this.” My wife whispered, holding a piece of the cookie out for me. I opened my mouth and let her slip the cookie piece into my mouth. It was an incredibly unusual taste. Almost like, well, almost like… Oh shit! I knew exactly what it tasted like now. It tasted exactly like Nancy’s cunt when I make her climax on my tongue. “God, Linda. Have you ever tasted anything so incredible?” “No. I haven’t. It’s incredible.” She whispered as she reached for another piece of the quickly disappearing cookie. She slipped another small piece into her mouth as my wife took the last piece and at it. The two of them moaned almost in unison as they closed their eyes and chewed the last of the cookie. “Damn, is it hot in here?” Linda asked, fanning herself with her hands as she swallowed the last of the cookie. “Where did you get that?” Nancy turned to look at me again. “Mike said it was under the tree.” “It was,” I said, taking the box back from my wife. I turned it over to show her the tag on the ribbon, still partly attached to the box. The parchment fell out of the box and fluttered to the floor. My wife bent over to pick up the parchment. “Mike, you want to tell me something?” she asked as she looked at the writing on the note. “Are you seeing someone on the side I should know about?” “I wish.” I grunted. “Merry Christmas. Share this with the love of your life, to grant your Christmas wish, but be alone. Mrs. Clause.” My wife read. “Who the hell is Mrs. Clause? My wife asked me angrily. "Some new woman I don’t know about?” “Shit honey. You know you’re the only woman in my life. Honestly, I thought it was from you. We trade Santa presents all the time. I just thought it was from you.” “Not me. I didn’t give you a cookie. Hell, I don’t even recognize the writing. Who writes like this anyway?” My wife asked as Linda pulled the note from my wife’s hand to read it. “Looks like an invitation to play.” Linda said with a grin. “Someone wants your husband’s goodies.” “Yeah. right. Who’d want an aging old man?” “I dunno. I might. Not that I’ve seen what he has to offer, but I can tell you that bulge in his pants is pretty inviting.” Both my wife and I looked down at my crotch. “Shit.” I grunted in surprise at how far my shorts were tented out as my mostly hard cock tried to stand erect, but instead just pushed the front and part of the right leg of my shorts out until the material was taut, trapping it bent over. My cock was so hard and long that my engorged mushroom head poked out the end of the leg hole suggestively. “Jesus Mike!” My wife snapped. “Really? Is that all you think about? Sex?” She slammed the box on the counter and stormed off toward the bedroom. “Hey! Nancy, If you don’t want it, I’ll take it!” Linda called down the hall toward my retreating wife. She looked down at my crotch and grinned. She stepped closer, tossing the note onto the counter and then reached down toward my bulging shorts. I felt her fingers stroke up and down my material covered shaft a few times and then stroke over my exposed bare head. “Umm. I bet this would feel good inside me. Spreading me? Oh yeah. I’m sure it would.” Linda whispered as she teased my phallic head a few more moments. I felt her hand slide up and her other hand join it, one on each of my hips, reaching for the elastic waistband of my shorts. “Hell, I wouldn’t mind at all if you put that someplace hot and warm and wet,” She whispered to me as she pushed my shorts down over my hips and ass. She started to squat down in front of me, while I stood there, not moving, letting her push my shorts down my body, slowly forcing them down over my hard cock until it popped out and stood pointing up at her face. “Mike, you’re thicker than the flagpole on my front porch!” I felt like I shouldn’t be doing what I was, but at the same time, I wanted her to. I wanted her to see me and touch me. I wanted her to want me. “Oh shit yes,” I groaned as her hand closed around my hard shaft. I looked down at her as she gently licked up the bottom of my cock until her tongue reached my mushroom head. She seemed to know exactly how and where to tease her tongue, making me groan in pleasure again, moments before she closed her lips around my leaking cock head. “I forgot how great this can be!” I admitted to the neighbor hottie kneeling in our kitchen. “Hmm.” She moaned, making my cock vibrate slightly as she began to stroke her mouth and hand up and down my shaft. It’d been years since anyone had done what she was doing, and all I could do was to stand there and let her do it. “Shit! Linda!” I heard Nancy say from behind me. “What are you doing?” “Sucking his incredible cock. God I don’t believe you don’t still do this for him. It tastes so damn good!” Linda said huskily from where she knelt in front of me. “You should get down here and help me. I think he’s going to come for me, the way it feels.” “Mike? You’re going to just let her suck your cock?” “Oh damn.” I groaned as she went back to sliding her lips up and down my shaft, her tongue teasing under my engorged head with each stroke. “Fuck she’s good at this.” Linda was now standing, but bent over. Her left hand frigging herself inside her red yoga pants, while her right hand cupped my dangling balls. Her head tilted to accommodate my cock’s descent into her throat. “Mike!” My wife said quietly, the look on her face one of, what? Disappointment? Surprise? Betrayal? I wasn’t really sure. She stood and stared at Linda sucking me, drawing me ever closer to orgasm. “Mike?” She asked in a squeaky whisper. “Is this what you want? Sex with another woman?” Linda’s right hand now squeezed the base of my shaft and squeezed tight. My prostate pressure was throwing me into a dizzy haze. She looked up into my eyes and smiled, then opened wide. With my cock head just outside her open mouth, she relaxed her grip on my shaft and the volcano erupted. “Oh fuck.” I grunted as my body spasmed. I could feel my cum lancing out into Linda’s mouth, shot after shot pumping into her as my body jerked and trembled. I stood there, my stomach tensing and my hips trying to push toward her with each new surge of cum. I didn’t realize I could come that much, finally standing there, panting, after at least a dozen powerful shots of cum. Linda pulled her mouth from my cock and looked up at me. She opened her mouth to show me the tremendous load of cum I’d deposited in her mouth, an amount more reminiscent of my more youthful days. She closed her mouth and smiled before opening it again so show not only me, but Nancy, that she had swallowed the whole load. “Oh god, Linda? You swallowed it?” “Oh fuck yes,” she said as she stood up. “God I’m so fucking horny.” She started to push her yoga pants down, her fingers taking her panties along with them, forcing the stretchy material down over her ass and hips, down her thighs, almost to her knees. I’d seen her in some one piece swim suits before, but I’d never seen her anything close to naked. She had full round outer lips with a significant amount of inner labia exposed, pressed to her full round twat. Her bush spread from her mound, down between her legs, covering much of her cunt. She pushed her pants all the way to her knees and then slid her hands tantalizing up her thighs, slipping to the inside of each thigh before gently stro