Sunday Quickie: Midnight Show


The local cheap-seats theater always smelled of burnt popcorn and spilled soda. Not even sure why I took Nikki to a show there. Well, I do know why.

She’s ten years younger than me, just out of college and still wet behind the ears. And always horny. Her hair color changes with the season, but most of the time it’s shades of purple.

On movie night, I took her to see Zombie Pirates of Vancouver. We expected the show to be terrible, and weren’t disappointed. Halfway through, right when the main hero started chainsawing his way through the hordes, Nikki put aside her soda and touched my thigh. Her fingernails scratched through the denim, tickling my skin.

“This movie is terrible,” she said.

I shrugged. Maybe there was a reason why we were the only people in the theater. We sat in the back, just under the projector. I leaned to her, and kissed her on the forehead. She smelled like gas station perfume mixed with buttery popcorn.

“Want to go somewhere else?” I said.

Nikki’s hand moved further up my thigh and found my growing cock. She stroked me, and squeezed just a little. “Have somewhere in mind?” she said.

My first mistake was to move her hand away from my crotch. I intertwined my fingers with hers. Nikki scowled, and glared at me. She doesn’t like subtle variations of the word “no.”

But she was so cute, the way the silver screen reflected on her pale skin. She wore black tights and a purple spaghetti strap, her bare shoulders well toned, boobs pushed up and nearly popping out.

Mistake two was to kiss her.

Nikki doesn’t need a ton of encouragement. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me in closer, and bit my lower lip. Every time she did that, I got weak everywhere in my body. My legs, my shoulders, my arms.

My fingers were still active though. I cupped her breasts, and then pulled the shirt and bra down, popping out both headlights. Twisting her nipples, I probed the inside of her mouth with my tongue. Nikki was already ahead of me. Her hands slithered down my chest, around my waist, and found the zipper. She didn’t even have to look where she was going.

Nikki pushed me back against the seat, being rough and all business now, and opened my jeans. My cock slipped right out, springing to life.

I couldn’t stop her. Not even sure I wanted to. Even in a public place. I worried about somebody walking into the show—a theater employee, a late arriving movie goer—and how I’d have to fight Nikki off me.

Or would I fight her?

Maybe just let whoever walked in call the cops. Would they let me and Nikki stay in the same cell over night?

I didn’t get real far in that fantasy. I already had a fantasy shaping up, which was the real reason I brought Nikki to the worst zombie movie ever made.

She bent at the waist, and took me in on one swallow, balls deep.

My member throbbed at her touch. Nikki didn’t hold back, scrapping her teeth across my skin, slobbering all over me. The cannon battle on screen nearly, but not quite, drowned out the slurping noises. The saliva mess she was making trickled down my shaft, down my balls. Every inch glowed hot.

Nikki tugged at my sack. The gentle pain mixed with the excruciating pleasure. I had a hard time breathing. Sweat trickled down my spine, making my shirt stick to my back. The pressure built in my groin.

“Please stop,” I said. “I’m about to lose it.”

Nikki didn’t listen. She never did when sucking cock. As if the world didn’t matter, everything could just go to hell, she was so focused. An army of pirate zombies stormed a fortress on a beach, looting and plundering and gangbanging barmaids as they went.

The movie focused a lot on the gangbang part, which amounted to random ladies without shirts screaming while being tied down.

Apparently, according to this stupid film, undeath is no barrier to getting a hard-on.

Nikki started stroking me while sucking. The pressure of her hand was too much. I couldn’t tell the difference between her moans and the moans coming from the movie.

I clutched a fistful of Nikki’s hair and threw my head back. I didn’t mean to scream. I wanted to remain quiet, on the off-chance somebody was going to walk in any time now.

Instead, I howled in pleasure. The spasms in my cock hurt as I spurted come on her face and hair. But Nikki still didn’t stop.

Milking me for every last drop until my shaft became too sensitive for more. Grabbing her hair, I lifted her face off my lap. Nikki laughed. The come on dripping down forehead and cheeks and chin was satisfying.

I kissed her, tasting my salty essence.

“I think I can watch this movie now,” she said.

“Only if you promise more of what you just did,” I said. “When we get home.”

“I only promise you’ll get this and more,” Nikki kissed me, and settled into my arms.

I had no idea how we were getting out of the theater, with her covered in spunk. At that moment in time, I didn’t care.

Now the theater smells like popcorn, soda, and sex. I felt accomplished.


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Sunday Quickie: Not Another Night Out

Not Another Night Out

Andy and I had finally stopped fighting and settled our differences. We’d been through one hell of a year. But I can’t stay mad at him forever. Let’s just say, on our first dinner date in far too long, I wore the skimpy backless dress he likes. The one that rides up my legs when I sit down, and makes other guys turn their heads and stare whenever I wear it out in public.

I managed to keep it a secret that I wore no panties. That was something for Andy to discover, if he chose to later.

He had eyes only for me that night. I liked the way his laugh lines stretched his face. How his brown eyes sparkled in the dim light. I was fascinated by how carefully he cut his sirloin steak, as if each piece had to be the right size. I’d forgotten that about him, in our year of constant fighting.

I’d also forgotten what it felt like to be the center of his attention.

Throughout dinner, we bantered and teased each other. At the third round of wine, he was feeling me up from under the table. So close, but respectably far away. When dessert came, Andy wasn’t saying much at all. I kept blabbing, for the sake of talking.

But it was clear what was on his mind.

I pushed the French silk pie to the side, not wanting any more of it. Andy didn’t take another bite of it either, whether to save the last bite for me, or because he had sex on his mind–I couldn’t tell for sure. And it didn’t matter anyway.

He took me by the hands and leaned forward across the table. I met him halfway, and kissed him. Our first real kiss in a year. I nibbled on his lips. He rolled his tongue across my teeth. We breathed together, barely at all. My body warmed, as if a blush were breaking out all over my bare skin. Our fellow diners were certainly watching us kiss, and that thought sent a thrill down my chest.

And then Andy fingered one of my breasts. Just a tap on the nipple at first. Then a pinch that made me squirm in my chair.

Then he cupped both breasts and squeezed. I tried to slap him away. To tell him no, that too many people were watching. But I couldn’t. I didn’t freaking want to. I shook with nervous energy. Not because I wasn’t just the center of Andy’s attention. I was the center of everybody’s attention. I knew it.

And Andy knew I had an exhibitionist side.

Once, it had been simply pole dancing for Andy. Then it was performing oral on him in front of close friends. Never went much further. But we had talked and fantasized about performing for strangers in a public place.

I had always imagined such an experience would be terrifying. That I’d feel too vulnerable and powerless.

Now I was pushed past my limits, I felt powerful. I had the power to excite an entire room full of strangers.

I had the power to say no.

Or not.

I chose the latter.

I grabbed his jacket lapels, not letting him retreat back to his side of the table. He was in deep now. And I wanted him to literally be deep.

Andy reached under the table and patted my knees. I spread them apart, anticipating his next move. When it didn’t happen as fast as I wanted it, I was afraid he was chickening out. But then I felt the soft caress of his rough hands on my inner thigh. I reached under the table, took him by the hand, and led him the rest of the way. One finger in. A gentle touch, with the promise of more.

The entire restaurant became quiet. I could feel dozens of eyes on me. The skin on my back felt hot. I blushed. I didn’t want the experience to end.

I ripped Andy’s neck tie apart. He helped with the buttons. My fingers were shaking too hard for those. My entire body shook with nerves and heat.

But I managed to stand up. And then I walked around to Andy’s side of the table. He scooted out, and patted his lap.

I squatted down in front of him. My turn to figure out if he could be embarrassed. I unzipped his pants and tore his belt buckle apart.

He flushed bright red. His eyes roamed around the room. I kept my full attention on him, and only him. When I pulled out his cock, his private smells mingled wonderfully with the smells of steaks and wines.

The soft music on the overhead system seemed softer, more distant. Somebody cleared their throat. Another person gasped. It was as if I were alone with Andy. But not quite. I could hear chairs creaking as people leaned forward to get a better view of the action.

I teased Andy with my tongue. A light touch on the tip. Down the shaft. I sucked on his balls. I loved how his cock twitched as it grew harder.

Then I went down on him. All the way in one swallow. My throat muscles remembered how to handle him. I used my teeth with the exact amount of pressure he liked. I gave him the best, nastiest blow job I’d given him in a long time. And I hoped this was the first of many.

From behind and around me, I heard the rustling of clothes and zippers being unzipped. Naughty giggles and husky moans. The smell of sex and private parts increased. I reached between my legs, enjoying the hell out of the scene I caused.

And then Andy tugged on my hair. He pulled me off his cock, much to my disappointment. He was hard and glistening with saliva.

He raised me to my feet, and then turned me around. As if on cue, a waiter and a waitress came to the table to clear away the dirty dishes and glasses. He had an amazing bulge growing in his pants. She kept brushing at his fingers as they worked, as if on accident. I made eye contact with both of them and winked. They both smiled and rushed off to the kitchen.

Andy bent me over the table. He conveniently had a condom in his jacket pocket, and slipped it on. Right when I thought he was about to penetrate me, instead he squatted down on his knees.

He lifted my skirt over my hips. He pressed the tip of his finger into my bum, then licked my lips and clit. Tender, slow, as if he had nowhere else to be tonight. I leaned forward on my elbows and laid my head in my arms.

The sweet sounds of other people getting off got me off. A couple times. Andy didn’t even have to penetrate with his tongue or finger. Pretty soon I was a wet mess.

When Andy finally stood back up, took me by the waist, and slid himself in an inch at a time, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I had never felt so violated before. So open and vulnerable. Bent over and fucked in a room full of strangers. Everyone of which was fucking or getting fucked too. I screamed in orgasm.

Andy blew his load inside me.

He paid the bill, and we walked away from the hot mess we created, hand in hand.

Needless to say, the owner of the restaurant invited us back the next night, with the promise of a free dessert and wine.

We haven’t taken him up on the offer yet, but it seems we’ve found a new way to bond with each other.


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Sunday Quickie: Hotel Siren


I’d been traveling all over for business. Chicago, Minneapolis, Washington, Miami. Too many places to name. In one of those cities, I had an encounter I’ll never forget.

I was at the hotel, walking along the balcony with a much too bitter coffee in one hand and a leather portfolio case in the other. The sun was too bright for early morning, but felt nice on my bare arms. I wore a slim pencil skirt with a slit up one side, a pink sateen blouse, and three-inch patent leather heels.

Exactly one door down from my room, I saw her through the window. She had the blinds open all the way, and she was completely naked. One foot was propped up on the window sill, her opposite arm stretched out behind her head. She had lovely tanned skin, a tattoo of roses and dragons crawling up one side of her torso, and hip length black hair.

And she had a vibrator pressed against her bare pussy.

Of course I stopped and gawked. I might look and talk feminine, but I have the sex drive of a man. And I happen to like other women.

I gave her a smile, to let her know I appreciated the early morning show. She blew me a kiss and pressed her hand against the window. I set down my portfolio, and returned the kiss. I put my hand on the window against hers.

And then she motioned me to come inside. How could I refuse? I picked up the portfolio and waited for her to open the door. Inside, I introduced myself.

“Kate,” I said.

“Sylvia,” she said, closing the door behind me.

And like that, I instantly liked her. She was so beautiful, almost as tall as I am in heels, with a luxuriant body and a warm smile. I set the portfolio against the wall and left my coffee next to the TV, which was playing a raunchy video featuring two blondes in a sixty-nine position. She had an array of sex toys spread out on the bed—dildos, vibrators, a riding crop.

I pecked Sylvia on the lips. Just a friendly meeting of lips, which turned into a co-mingling of tongues, and then we were in each other’s arms. In the back of my brain, where my business sense resides, I wondered if this was a bad idea.

But my sex drive won out and pummeled my common sense into a pulp. You only live once.

I grabbed her by the ass with both hands and pressed her warm body against mine. She was firm and muscular everywhere. No dainty morsel here. Sylvia ran her fingers through my hair. Out of breath, she told me I was beautiful and sexy as hell. She whispered in my ear, like she was telling me her darkest secret, that she wanted to fuck me.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I melted a little. Then and there, I decided I was really staying for a few minutes, or maybe longer, even though I had meetings to attend and asses to kiss. And I liked the idea of getting caught by random gawkers who passed the window.

As if we were both thinking the same thing, we went to the window. I faced the outside world, and she faced me. I laid my hands on Sylvia’s shoulders, and pushed her to her knees. I unzipped my skirt and dropped it to the floor. Then I dropped my panties too, exposing my trimmed runway.

Sylvia wasted little time. She barely knew me, knew nothing of what I liked or didn’t like, but that didn’t stop her. I find that women understand other women’s bodies instinctively. Or perhaps I’ve just had the good luck to encounter ladies who are turned on by the same things I enjoy.

She started slow, rubbing me on the labia and flicking her tongue across my clit. I ran my fingers through her hair, keeping her head to my pussy, where I wanted her. Between her love and the sounds of hot moaning from the porno in the background, I was worked up and wet quickly.

I turned around, and picked up a blue vibrator and the riding crop. I handed Sylvia the toy and told her to use it on me. She took one look at the crop, smirked impishly as if she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and then responded to my demand. The vibrator had a lovely, steady pulse and was just the right size for my tunnel. Big enough to fill me, small enough to hit the right spots.

I smacked her ass with the riding crop.

Sylvia yelped in pain, but didn’t stop licking or fucking me with the toy. If anything, her playing became more frantic now, like she was more desperate to please me. I smacked her on the other cheek. And then she set the vibrator to a higher setting, with a faster rhythm and a stronger punch.

My thigh muscles tightened, my scream was drowned out by the porno. My stomach felt like butterflies. My head felt light. And then my pussy contracted. I came. Nobody passed by the window, for better or worse. That was some random stranger’s loss, especially if the stranger was a man.

I whipped her again for good measure, and thanked her.

“No, thank you,” Sylvia said. She stood up slowly, her knees wobbling. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

I kissed her on the mouth. “Provided management doesn’t kick us both out.”

“Well,” she said. “We don’t want that.”

Sylvia pulled the curtains shut tight. I drew her into my arms and held her, enjoying the sweet afterglow.

Eventually, I had to let her go, with the promise of more later. I had every intention to finish my business meetings early.

I made good on that intention, and was back in Sylvia’s room after a light dinner that night.

A few days later, I had to move on, and so did she. We keep in touch, but it’s more of a chatty relationship now. Every so often I think back on those wonderful days I spent with Sylvia, and all the wicked things she did to me and I did to her. I keep asking now and then if she’d like to relive that time, but we haven’t made it happen yet.

Of all the sexy encounters I’ve had in my adult life, Sylvia is still my favorite. Every time I walk past a hotel room window, I think of her.


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Sunday Quickie: Worst Second Date Ever

Worst Second Date Ever

I met Kimberly through a friend at work, and had a lovely first coffee date with her. Even ended the night with a quick, cream-and-sugar kiss on the lips, and she gave me her phone number. Didn’t take much arm-twisting to convince her to go on a second date with me.

Picked her up at seven. I wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans, and shiny black shoes. Kimberly wore a red sundress and three inch heeled sandals. She greeted me with a more passionate kiss this time, but again all too quick.

After that, the evening went from good, to bad, to what the fuck just happened?

Around the corner from her house, I got a flat tire, and had to change it. Which made us late for our dinner reservation. The maitre’d had given away our table, and we waited for an hour. My lasagna came out cold, and her house salad featured wilted lettuce and one lousy crouton. After an unsatisfying meal, I took her to the cinema, only to discover that it was children’s night or something. A lot of screaming brats and a limited selection of cartoons convinced me to take her somewhere else.

She chose a coffee shop next to a bookstore. A mob was outside the bookstore, waiting for a signing with some wannabe erotica author. The barista had smeared makeup and smelled like a pussy, and messed up our orders of hot chocolate.

“Well,” Kimberly said, and sipped the white chocolate mocha she didn’t order. “I’ve never been on a date quite like this.”

I blew on my triple espresso latte, afraid to actually drink it. “Wish I could take credit for planning all this.”

“I’d be truly impressed if you did.” Her tone was dry, sarcastic. The crinkle in the corners of her eyes made her look dangerous. We shared a long moment, staring at each other over our styrofoam cups, tired smiles on both our faces.

The moment was interrupted by a vibrating sound. And it almost certainly wasn’t a coffee grinder in the shop’s back room.

Kimberly quizzically arched an eyebrow up, the dangerous look intensifying. I had to lean forward, to hide the erection poking up my jeans. The vibrating got kicked up a notch, then another. A low feminine squeal echoed from somewhere behind the counter. Kimberly at the straps of her sundress.

Then she stood up, taking my drink away, and tossed both cups into the nearest waste-bin, sashaying her hips as she strutted. I was convinced she wanted to leave, but instead she pointed to the ugly green couch near the coffee shop’s fake fireplace. I tried my best to hide my boner, but Kimberly glanced down at it anyway. I closed the front window blinds.

I fished in my pocket and brought out a condom. I always come prepared, though I never expect anything on a date, especially a second date. At the same time, Kimberly dug around in her purse, and brought out a condom. Same brand as mine, same packaging.

She giggled. I chuckled. We both shared a belly-aching laugh.

And then I pushed her to the couch and kissed her. A gentle brush of lips. Tongue. Teeth. Then the fondling started. I grabbed one of her melons, gave it a firm squeeze. Her hand slid up my thigh, and made a bee-line to the zipper.

This was happening so very fast. But I wasn’t going to tell her no. I couldn’t.

The vibrator buzzed even louder, like some giant angry insect. Surely the barista had it on max. I hoped her battery wouldn’t run dry any time soon.

Kimberly ripped open my dress shirt, and twisted my nipples. I tore the sundress straps down, along with her bra straps, and popped her breasts out. I tried to suckle her, but she insisted on opening my jeans. I didn’t deny her.

She gasped when she saw my cock flop out, and wasted little time in sucking it. I had to pull her head away by her hair, and force her down on her back. I ripped her silky pink panties off, and ate her like the dinner I didn’t get to enjoy earlier. Her moans were soft, subdued, and matched the moans coming from the hiding barista.

Then I plunged a finger inside Kimberly, and hooked her right on the G-spot. I made short work of her, and sprayed an orgasm all over the couch.

I stroked myself, letting Kimberly calm down a little. Her skin was flushed, hair sticky with sweat as if she’d been working out. Then I put on the condom she had offered me.

Slid only the tip in at first. Back out. I enjoyed the way she squirmed under me. I rewarded her with the rest of my cock, balls deep.

Gripping her calves, I lifted her legs up over my shoulders.

Kimberly gripped the couch cushions, bucking her hips against me.

I fucked her. Slow, jack-hammered, slow again, wiggled my hips, pumped the juices out of her. Her tits jiggled around as I pumped her. Kimberly screamed, and buried her face with her arms.

I pulled out, tore off the condom, and blew the biggest damn load across her dress. Even managed to sprinkle her left boob. Then I fell into her arms, and we made out.

After a few minutes, Kimberly pushed me away, and we got dressed again. As best we could at any rate. I glowed with exhaustion, and couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She was radiant.

Once dressed and the used condom thrown away, the barista came out from the back room, haired messed up and what little left of her makeup smeared down her face.

“Oh, shit,” the barista said. “I didn’t realize you guys were still here.”

I winked at the girl. “It’s okay.”

“Huh?” the barista said. “I’m half deaf.” She pulled out a hearing aid to show us.

I tipped the girl twenty bucks and Kimberly and I left.

“That, was the worst date ever,” Kimberly said, hand in the crook of my arm.

“Want a repeat next Friday?” I asked.

“Next time, we’ll use your condom.” Kimberly kissed me.

Our next date was a lot better. Turns out, the deaf barista always takes an extended break at the same time every night. She even locked the door next time, and doesn’t seem to mind that Kimberly and I have completely ruined the couch.


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Sunday Quickie: The Window Show

The Window Show

The neighbor lady mows her yard about the same time every evening, right after I eat supper and before I steep a pot of tea. I sit in my screened-in sunporch and smell the grass clippings on the steamy summer nights. Usually I read or listen to the radio. Often, very late at night, I take off my clothes and blow a load before bed time.

The house backs up to a forest, and nobody can see me except for Marissa, the cute neighbor.

One night while mowing the grass, she wore a straw hat and a skimpy blue bikini, the top barely concealing her ample bosom, and the bottom rode up her ass crack like floss. I had planned on reading Catcher in the Rye for the first time, but after one long stare at Marissa’s beautiful body, I dropped the book on the floor and forgot about the tea kettle on the stovetop.

She saw me and waved. I waved back, a little embarrassed by the massive bulge popping up in my shorts. I decided to at least pretend to read, pretend to drink tea, and even pretend to be the nice neighbor guy who doesn’t gawk at the girl next door. Wasn’t until she was done mowing that I realized I held the book upside down and my tea had gone stale. I figured she’d put the mower away, and then I could sit in the dark and masturbate.


Instead, Marissa got out her garden hose and watered her flower garden. Then pruned the bushes, bending over enough for me to memorize the curves on her backside. The sunporch got dark, and I turned on the floor lamp so I could “see” my book better, because I needed an excuse.

When she got out a lawn chair and sat with a beer in hand, I realized she could probably see me with the light on. I waved casually, and she saluted me with her beer bottle. Marissa leaned back in her chair, long muscular legs crossed, an amused grin on her face. She clutched one breast, and pretended to adjust the bikini top. Then I knew she’d been watching me the whole time.

I took off my shirt. I’m a long ways from chiseled, but I workout and have nothing to be ashamed of. By the time I tossed my shirt to the side, the amused grin on her face turned into a full on smile with white teeth that flashed in the waning light.

Marissa uncrossed her legs and rolled the beer bottle up one thigh. I just imagined how the cold glass must feel on her skin, and what it would be like I were the one holding the bottle. The tent pole in my pants got a lot stiffer. I pinched my nipples, twisting them, not really even thinking about what I was doing. Would she call the cops? Forever pick a different time to mow her yard?

She pulled at her bikini top, and flashed me one boob. She was lovely and firm, with a large pink nipple.

I popped the button on my jeans, then rubbed my palms down my thighs. Marissa shook a finger at me, shaking her head, and stuck her finger down the other side of her bikini top. She twisted the nipple underneath. I stood up and unzipped my pants in slow motion.

She dropped the beer onto the grass. She flicked her hair back, laughing, and kicked the bottle away with her foot.

Not to let a little spilled beer deter my impromptu strip-tease, I turned around. My jeans fell around my ankles, and I kicked them off. Pulling at my boxers, I turned around to make sure I still had her attention.

Marissa sat on the edge of her lawn chair, the bikini pulled aside and both breasts exposed now.

I slid my boxers off, showing her my ass cheeks. One hand clutching my junk, I spun on my heels. By the time I was turned around, Marissa was fumbling off the bottom half of her bikini. I removed my hand, showing her my rod. She had a lovely triangle patch of hair between legs.

We stared at each other for a long moment, like two kids seeing naked bodies for the first time. I sat back down, and started stroking. Marissa pressed a finger against her clit, and rubbed.

Pretty soon, our mutual masturbation got hot and heavy. She flicked her pearl, and shoved a finger deep into her tunnel. I stroked my shaft with one hand, and massaged my balls with the other. I sped up a little, and she kept pace with me. Then I tried slowing down, but Marissa slouched in her chair and pumped her pussy faster.

Soft moans came from her. I doubt she even knew she was making noise. Precum dripped down my hand. I wasn’t going to make it much longer at this rate. I slouched in my chair, putting one arm behind my head, and using my change in position as an excuse to stop for a moment.

Marissa didn’t seem to want to stop. Faster, more desperate, as if she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. I smacked my member for her, making the noise as loud as I could. The rest of world just sort of blurred away, and Marissa became the center of my tunnel vision.

Then suddenly a squeal erupted from her. She shivered and crossed her legs, breasts bouncing and heaving. Marissa covered her mouth. Face, neck, and upper body bright red, she leaned forward and nearly jumped out of her lawn chair.

Once she settled back down, a big smile from ear to ear, she nodded to me. For a moment I wondered about stage fright. That moment passed quick, and I stroked myself, my cock on fire in a tingly excruciating pleasurable way.

The orgasm started in my balls, and exploded upwards like an uncontrollable quake. A jet of creamy white cum blasted out of me, hit the screen window, and splattered on the floor. I sank in my chair, exhausted and warm.

Marissa stood, wobbly on her feet, and blew me kisses. I blew kisses back and watched her walk into her house.

Ever since then, Marissa and I have gotten together. But lawn mowing is now a chore we both look forward to.


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Sunday Quickie: The Girl Upstairs

The Girl Upstairs


My downstairs neighbor is hot. Smoking, hot. Tall, dark black hair, baby smooth skin. Ryan is his name. He does the yard work for our landlord. Once a week I wake up to the smell of fresh cut grass, and I hear the clip-clip-clip of him trimming the bushes directly below my dinette window.

The aroma of fresh Arabian coffee mixes with the fresh grassy scent. I open the yellow lacy dinette window curtains and look out below at him. I’m wearing a lacy black bra and white Brazilian cut panties. He’s got on a pair of khaki shorts and tennis shoes. I hope he can see me.

So I tap on the window. Innocently, of course. Tap-tap. Ryan looks up, and nearly drops the trimmers. He fumbles for a bit, makes a nice recovery by catching the trimmers in one hand, and waves at me. I wave back, an impish grin flushing my cheeks. For an awkward moment too long, we stare at each other as if for the first time. Ryan looks away first, face and neck red from the sun, and he goes back to trimming the bushes.

I get an idea.

I slip on my cutest pair of wedge sandals and my nearly see-through pink bathing robe, and I go downstairs with a full bottle of ice water.

“Hey neighbor,” I say, offering him the water. “You look like you need a drink.”

“I do,” he says, and drinks the water in one long gulp. I take the opportunity to check out his chiseled abs, and the way sweat drips down his skin.

“More where that came from,” I say. It’s a struggle to avert my eyes from his beltline. I manage, for a second or two, but he’s hard, and he’s not exactly hiding it.

Ryan grins wolfishly, as if he knows exactly what’s going on in my brain. The bulge gets bigger, fuller. I want to reach out and tap it. That’s exactly what I do. He doesn’t flinch, or smack my hand away.

“Maybe,” I say, “you should get your ass upstairs before you embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you how? Like this?” Ryan undoes his pants and whips it out, he’s not even wearing boxers. His cock is bigger than most of my toys, with a fat mushroom head and a thick shaft that bends upward. The ball sack is equally huge.

I push him against the apartment building, in between the bushes. Luckily, there’s a little ledge for him to sit on. I slip off my panties, let them drop to my ankles. What am I doing? Fucking this near stranger in the garden between buildings? Letting him see my trimmed bush like this?

Mine is trimmed down to a cute little landing strip. Ryan is fast to touch me, and slips a finger inside while his thumb rolls across my clit. I lean in and kiss him. Tongue action follows.

My heart races. Soon I’m working up a sweat in the sweltering heat. Ryan is hot and grimy beneath my fingers. Before I know it, I’m straddling that monster cock and grinding it with my hips.

Ryan makes cute panting noises. He’s trying to be quiet, to not draw attention from anyone who happens to be passing by.

Deep down somewhere, maybe in my pussy, I know what a dumb idea this is. But I’m too busy squealing in delight as the orgasm hits.

My pussy squirts, watering his cock and balls. I squeeze a fistful of his hair and rotate his head as I kiss him hard to squelch my scream.

Ryan responds by grabbing my ass in both hands and pulling me closer.

He allows me a moment to bask. I push away first, and collect my panties from under the bush. Ryan zips up his shorts, but he’s still hard.

“Come by tonight,” I pat him on the crotch gently. “And I’ll finish the job.”

“I’ll bring dinner,” he says, and winks.

One last quick kiss before I head back upstairs. Ryan might have a long day of work ahead of him, but he has a long night of fucking after that.

I hope he’s well rested.


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Sunday Quickie: No Shame in the Jacuzzi

No Shame in the Jacuzzi

I met Elisa at the gym where I workout, about six months back. We were instant friends, and she’s been coaching and cheering me on ever since. I’ve slimmed down a lot. I’m a hell of a lot stronger too.

Elisa is a slim and strong bombshell to begin with. Her arms are firm with well defined muscles. She has a set of legs that any younger woman would be jealous of. And her abs, admittedly, make me a little wet whenever she wears a sports bra. Unlike my giant ridiculous boobs, Elisa has small teacup sized breasts and, though I’d never seen them, they sure looked perky and firm.

Also unlike me, she has enough self-confidence for two women. You can see it in her posture and the way she casually flips her shoulder length brown hair into a ponytail. I love that about her.

Oh, and she loves other women.

So when Elisa invited me to her house to celebrate my weight loss, from the sparkle in her eyes I knew she had more than a nice dinner in mind.

I was more than fine with her unstated intentions. I happen to like other women too. I also happened to be infatuated with my workout partner.

But when Elisa told me to bring a bathing suit, I was nervous. Scared shitless, actually. I hadn’t worn anything skimpier than tights and a knee-length sweater for much of my adult life. The one-piece suit I’d bought the year before, a sort of perk to lose weight, now fit just fine. That didn’t help my confidence, oddly.

Dinner was wonderful. Chicken salad with quinoa and a lot of colorful peppers, mushrooms, and greens. For dessert, Elisa made chocolate pudding that was to die for.

And then she opened a bottle of blackberry wine. Once we were both properly buzzed, she patted me on the knee and asked if I wanted to soak in the jacuzzi.

I certainly didn’t want to disappoint her. So I said yes, but she caught the hesitation in my voice. I saw the pained look on her face, the way her brows tightened together, the little smile she gave me. But I decided to be brave, to be confident like my friend. I was going to wear the one-piece, gods-fucking-damned-it.

Elisa showed me to master bathroom and gave me a towel. And then she grabbed a towel for herself and a skimpy blue bikini that was practically made of strings, and gave me some privacy. I barely looked in the mirror while I changed. All I saw where stretch marks, my fat hips, and sagging breasts.

I slipped into my bathing suit and wrapped a towel around my torso. I met Elisa in her backyard, where the jacuzzi was. She had a fenced in yard, shaded by massive elm trees, and mostly filled with a vegetable garden and a few strips of trimmed grass.

She was heating up the water, testing it by dipping a hand in. I admired her from behind for a little while. Elisa seemed so vulnerable in her tiny bikini, and yet so powerful. Like some kind of super-heroine who stripped off her regular clothes and became a crime fighting babe, and here she was on her off-hours.

I giggled at the thought, which got her attention.

Elisa turned her head, and smiled at me. The water was already bubbling and looked so inviting. She stepped one leg, then the other into the jacuzzi. I approached. If I could drop the towel fast enough and shimmy in, she wouldn’t see my fat ass.

But I wasn’t nearly fast enough. Elisa was already leaning back, arms stretched out to either side. She stared at me. I stared at her, clutching my towel like it was the last shred of clothing on my body.

Elisa stood up, water dripping down her sexy body. Then she grabbed the towel right above my breasts. She yanked it off, snagging my bathing suit along for the ride. The elastic in my suit snapped back on my chest, the towel fell around my feet.

“Janice,” she said. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are beautiful and incredibly sexy the way you are.”

“Do you really think so?” I said.

“I know so, baby.” Elisa sat back down in the jacuzzi and lifted the bottle of wine which was nearby. It looked a lot emptier than I thought it should be. “Now get your sweet ass in here before I polish off this wine.”

The alcohol might’ve been doing some of her talking. Hell, maybe some of her seeing too. But clearly Elisa had planned this. The delicious dinner. The jacuzzi. The wine. I could’ve cried a little, standing there watching the most beautiful woman on Earth pamper me.

Instead, I stepped into the jacuzzi.

The water was lovely and hot. And when Elisa handed me a glass of wine and put her around my shoulders, I felt so safe and protected. No women had ever made me feel quite this way. Like I was made to snuggle into her arms. The sensation was better than sexy. It was magnificent.

We clinked glasses and toasted our health. Elisa has this way of relaxing me. Add the jacuzzi water, and I was melting in her embrace.

The wine started doing its magic on me, making me brave enough to snuggle her neck. I kissed her collarbone, just to be playful. And if she didn’t really like it, I’d just say I was being playful and leave it at that.

Instead, she cupped my face with one hand and kissed me on the mouth. A slow, sexy kiss. When she tried to end it, I sank my tongue between her lips and continued it. And then we played tongue tag. My heart skipped a beat.

I grabbed one of her breasts. Sure enough, she was perky and firm. And already nipping. I slipped my hand underneath her bikini top. Her skin was unbelievably smooth. I rubbed every inch of her boob, savoring the texture, and then I twisted her nipple.

And then Elisa spread my thighs apart, and scratched her fingernails up the inside of my leg. All the way to my pussy. Whatever confidence issues I’d been having, seemed kind of far off now. Like somebody else’s problem. I was with the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, and her fingers were pulling aside my swimsuit to slip a fingertip inside me.

I had a moment of indecision though.

“Why did you ask me to bring this damn swimsuit?” I asked.

Elisa smiled. “So you’d have a way out if you didn’t want to make out with me.”

I tugged at my shoulder straps. She sat back, enjoying the private striptease. I rubbed my breasts against her, not quite ready to pull them out for her.

And then she took hold of the straps and pulled my swimsuit down. My boobs fell out, big milky white jugs. I never cared for them. Elisa bent down and took a nipple into her mouth.

And bit.

I sucked in a quick breath. My nipples were already erect and taut. She continued sucking and licking on me, making slow work of each, making sure she tasted every inch of me. What Elisa didn’t know, is I can orgasm from just boob play. Not a big one, like having my pussy eaten out. But a nice electric warmth that starts in my nipples and spreads throughout my body. I threw my head back and screamed.

Elisa stared at me while I came down from my high. She seemed befuddled that she gave me an orgasm already.

While she was still processing that, I attacked her. That cute little string bikini didn’t stand a chance. I ripped the top off with my newfound strength. I laid waste to her pink nipples. I stripped the bottom off and let it float on the surface of the water.

Then I shoved my fingers into her pussy, while rubbing her clit with my thumb. She was ready for me. Already wet, legs spread apart. She pulled my suit off, with a little help from me. And then she fingered me.

The water seemed to get even hotter. She had a cute moan. She begged me to keep going. To not stop. She kept pace with my finger fucking.

And then we came together. Synchronised coming.

Afterwards, we just sat next to each other, holding one another. I kept thanking her, over and over. For everything. Elisa kissed me, over and over on the neck.

“You are the most beautiful woman to me,” she whispered in my ear.

I melted, and held her even tighter.

A year later, we still workout together. And once a week, we extend the workout to bedroom fun.

I’ve never felt better about myself. Elisa makes me feel slim and strong. And she is that much sexier for how she makes me feel.


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