Private dick

Private dick
By: Cocksure (wilde_zijde@email.address)

When she walked into my office, for a moment I thought that I was Philip Marlowe, Raymond Chandler's hard boiled detective. Her appearance was totally strange to the hateful 21st century, but seemed to step right out of a fifties b&w film noir movie. From the little hat that sat askance on her head and hid all of her face except for the broad sensual mouth, over the outdated skirt, down to the black stockings and high heels, she embodied the providential femme fatale. The way she sat down, crossed her legs and briefly revealed a glimpse of naked thigh above her laced stocking top, showed me that she mastered the part into the minutest detail. The slender cigarette holder in the vivid scarlet scar of her mouth completed the image. Did she dress in black because she was in mourning of because she knew it made her irresistible? I always had associated death with sex, convinced that I could only forget my finity in a women's body.

Silence and smoke filled the room, as we each thought our thoughts. I kept quiet as long as possible, postponing the inevitable moment that banal reality would burst the bubble of my fantasy. And that it would be a trivial matter, I didn't doubt a second. For me the photographing of secret dates and adulterous bodies in sordid hotel rooms had lost every thrill ages ago. Because that was my profession: catching wives or husbands at it and providing proof of it..

Her look was sad and betrayed the smile she gave me. "I think my girl friend is cheating on me". She belonged to this century and to modernity after all. But what did it import what the sex of her lover was. It was merely a variation on the same age old theme. Her voice sounded hoarse and sensual, but the words hollow and dull in their predictability. Bored I killed my burnt out cigarette in the ashtray. I had abandoned all pretence to look interested a million clients ago. "With a man", she tried to make an impression on my silence. As if it mattered a fuck with which sex her girl friend had sex. I whistled an outdated tune to underscore my meaning Her face showed that she was hurt by my lack of empathy. I hardened my own expression and upped my usual price with a notch. Philippe Marlowe had taught me that pity doesn't win you dame nor dime. As she rose and as we shook cold and unfeeling hands, we concluded the sordid deal.

The day after I posted sentry in front of the stately mansion of my client. First she came out, dressed very businesslike for a day at the office. She looked around her, no doubt to see if she could spot me, but of course I wasn't that obvious. With as annoyed shrug of her padded shoulders she stepped into her car, pulling endless legs in beside her and drove off. Only a minute after she had shut the door after her, and as if she had anxiously awaited that moment, another woman appeared. Or rather another girl, which not only in age and every outward appearance, but now suspectedly also in sexual preference, was the opposite of the former. If that one was all superfluous curves, this one was almost without any relief in her close fitting jeans and sweater. Red hair shorn close to the skull, for me she obviously was the "male" in the couple, or was it wrong of me to try to cast dykes into a man-woman pattern.

She went off hastily as if she couldn't wait to throw herself in the arms of her lover. Probably she only staid with the other one for the money, I speculated while I followed her. Anyway, it seemed this job would be over quickly. A pity, because there are duller ways to make a living than by shadowing young broads, phony lesbians at that.

I followed her into a breakfast café, the obvious place of meeting. It was all so predictable. She sat down and ordered a cup of coffee, smoking a nervous cigarette. I wondered for which kind of guy she tumbled. Probably some effeminate intellectual pussy, I mused, flexing my muscles under my shirt. When she rose, I turned and looked behind me at the entrance door. But nobody had entered. When I turned around, I nearly had a heart attack, because she sat right in front of me. Remorselessly she attacked "You've been following me since I left home. What do you want from me?" I was too flabbergasted for words. Denial was useless, so I fished my desperate brains for a plausible excuse. And then the suspicion in her face faded. Was I that transparent of was she clairvoyant? Because next she said. "Oh no, don't tell me. SHE sent you after me. I can't get it out of her pretty head that I am not fooling around. With a man! The thought alone! Can you imagine?", she said in an insulted tone, for a moment seeming to forget that she sat in front of one. I was still wordless. And then she changed her tone. "What if you bought me some decent breakfast. Charge it to her account. That way I get something out of it."

This was my strangest assignment ever. And it became even more bizarre, because barely had I taken a bit out of my buttered roll, or I felt a stockinged foot moving upwards against the leg of my trousers. Her eyes narrowed into catlike slits when her toes touched my crotch. I got an instant hard on as if she had injected my cock my concrete. "You know. I feel like getting back at her for her distrust", she said, wiping the crumbs from her tiny lips. "And hell. Since she thinks that I fuck around with men, I might as well try one on for a fit.", she giggled, pressing her point by rubbing her foot against my stiff dick. She rose from the chair, pushing it back. "Are you retarded or what?" she sneered when I was slow to take the hint. Indeed. I was definitely too slow witted for this one. But still, shell shocked as I was, I stood up, walking in her steps, as a puppet on a string.

Ten minutes later I entered the door which I was supposed to watch for secret lovers. "This is not really ethical", I thought as I followed her up the stairs, looking at her non existing ass. On the other hand I would be able to prove without a shadow of a doubt to my client that her girl friend was indeed cheating on her with a man. What a joke. How I would explain that that man was me, was a worry for later. For the time being I let my dick do the thinking for me. Would she be domineering in bed, I thought putting my mind to the business at hand.

In the luxurious bedroom, she strip quickly and fell naked on the bed. With her fingers she followed my eyes over her body, as they caressed her breasts, tummy, thighs, legs and sex. Her clothes had made me guess that she would be slender and almost masculine. Emasciated proved to be the truer word to describe her as I looked at her skinny body, .as if she survived on a pure diet of sex. But far from being a turn off, the sharp edges of her pelvis, which nearly stuck through her skin and the outspoken contours of her ribcages excited me in a way I had never expected of myself. I undressed as she looked on curiously, stroking her belly and thighs and pinching her small tits as if she wanted to check if it wasn't all a dream. When I pulled down my shorts over my hips, her lips opened in a silent cry of amazement. She really had brought forth a fearsome erection. "Are you going to fuck me with that?", she asked, tasting the word fuck with obvious relish. She swung her legs over the bed, sitting on the edge, her face only a whisper away from my angry cock, which spun threads of desire against my flat stomach. "It looks just like a dildo", she said, mischief in her eyes, pouting her lips and blowing a butterfly kiss to my erect sex. The skin of my balls wrinkled with excitement and short intense tremors went through the mushrooming head of my cock. I moaned when she took a hold of it in a childlike fist, failing to suppress a cry of pain as she gave my shaft a series of short bites with her teeth, as if she was eating a husk of sweet corn. Either she was a natural talent or she had lied when she had led me to believe she'd never had it on with a man, because she was good, she was unbelievably good. And she became even better, her hands firmly on my behind now, scratching patterns of desire on my buttocks, making the skindeep nerve endings tingle. One finger teased my anus. Softly she massaged it past my sphincter. And then in split second of agony and lust she drove her finger in with a knifelike trust, simultaneously swallowing my dick. Her lips firmly closed, she sucked on me or flicked her tongue against the swollen bud of my dick. She fisted me hard, pulling the skin down as far as she could and crushing my balls to dust against my thighs. With every movement she pumped blood and sperm through the empty tube of my shaft. I laid my hand in the back of her neck, steadying her head as I started to prudently fuck her in the mouth. She looked up at me through her eyelashes, her hollowed cheeks filling out with every trust of my dick. Yes, she was a born cocksucker I thought as I began to lose control over my hips. Be responded by taking control herself, pushing her mouth all the way over my shaft and deepthroating me. The revolting movements of her throat excited me to the precipice of orgasm. "Will she let me come in her face and on her close shorn skull', I wondered closing my eyes to be able to better see my fantasy. I imagined white blobs of sperm against the redness of her hair, when her mouth and her hand once of a sudden let go of my dick.

I opened my eyes in protest. "Come in bed", she hissed through clenched teeth, her face lit with fire and hate. "I want that dildo in me". I crept on the bed wanting to move on top of her, but she went at me with outstretched arms, pushing me on my back. She straddled me, grasping my sex with both hands and pointing it like a spear at the jagged wound of her cunt. She sat with her back towards me. I would have liked to see her face, but maybe she preferred to think it was the strapped on dildo of her female lover which she screwed herself onto in slow rotating movements. Her cunt was very narrow. It was as if she unrolled a extremely tight condom over the entire length of my cock and I felt as if my sex was being skinned alive. Slowly my shaft disappeared between her youthful boylike buttocks until I stuck inside her to the hilt. Over her shoulder she turned her face towards me, distorted into an ugly grin. "This is so much better than a dildo", she panted. "I feel you coming alive inside me". I responded by pinching my ass cheeks tight so that the head of my cock expanded in her. She moaned with ecstasy, turned a face away and became movement.

She fucked me as I hadn't been fucked in years, infinite variation in infinite simplicity, never letting me become used to her. She fucked me like I had it coming, with rotating and thrusting movements, slightly bent over, her hands supporting herself on my upper thighs, giving me a clear sight of my shaft appearing and disappearing between her buttocks. The whip of pleasure drove me remorselessly on toward my orgasm. I doubted if I would be able to hold out until she came. Guessing from the growing succession of cries and the restless panting from her cunt around my dick, she wasn't far from her climax herself. With loudly yelled "Oooooo's" and "aaaaaaaaaa's" we encouraged each other. I was only an ejaculation away from orgasm, dreading and wishing that moment of release at the same time.

And then I heard the bedroom door open and we froze in a still life of our selves. Caught! I expected a cry of surprise or anger, but was I heard was a sober voice and a businesslike communication. "Please move you body over a bit darling". The girl moved her upper body slightly sideways and I came eye in eye with my client and with the eye of a camera, which flashed at me like as many slaps in the face.

"Well colleague", she addressed me when she finally put the camera down. "For these pictures your wife will pay a pretty sum I'm sure. You can get ready to sign the divorce papers" What? Colleague? What did this mean? I really fell from one surprise in the other. Had my client hired this girl in order to catch me in the act? Caught in my own net, I thought while my prick started to downsize.

"As for you sugar", she spoke to the girl, whom I educed to be a hooker. " Your job is over And a job well done I might add". "Couldn't you have waited one moment more", the girl said in a complaining voice. "I was only a few yards from the finish". "Well finish the job then if you feel you must", my client said matter-of-factly, unshaken from her composure. But then curiously. "Is he that good?" "You bet", the hooker said, climbing down from me, taking my dick, which had shrunk quite a bit already, but still sizable and glistening with her juices, and showing it to the other woman. Who whistled in admiration. "Mmmm, I understand you. A real gentleman's cock: tall and muscular. But you made a mistake in showing it to me, because now you will have to share him with me, if you want it or not. After all I am paying you for your services.". "A threesome will cost you more", replied the hooker, revealing a hint of shrewd professionallity.

My client stripped while we looked on like rabbits glued to a television screen. High heels, skirt, chemise were thrown in a corner, until she stood before us in a peekaboo bra, miniscule slip and garters, drawing a trail of black lace across the white of her thighs to the black of her stockings. Her arms went behind her back, unhooking her bra. She had phenomenal tits, too large to be called anything but boobs, and really too big too to be called beautiful, but my what a joy in bed. Her areola's also were large, saucer like, making it seem as if her nipples invaded her breasts from their pinpointed center. She undid the clamps of her garter belt, caressing the smooth material of her stockings down over her legs. Unlike the hooker her body wasn't tanned all over. But that was clearly done on purpose as the small white triangles on her upper body and between her legs, indecently focused attention on her tits and her pussy, which was shaven, with the exception of a small brush stoke on the smooth skin.

She crouched on the bed and reached for my cock, pressing her upper arm against the shaft. We moaned from on mouth as we felt her slender wrist communicating her quickening heart beat to the throbbing head of my cock. She pointed it upwards, moving one hand between her legs to caress herself as she impatiently sighed to the hooker. "Well. Finish the job then." The girl mounted me again, this time facing me. Although my dick was slippery with her juices, the penetration was as difficult as the first time. Her face froze into a mask as she painstakingly lowered herself onto me, pressing my dick groove after delicious groove in the windings of her cunt. Her eyes had turned away in the sockets, showing only the whites. Pain or lust made her bite in her lower lip. A drop of blood fell from her chin upon her breast, dissolving in the red of the nipple.

She placed her hands flat on my torso, kneading my pectoral muscles and slightly stretching my nipples between ring and middle finger, while the oiled machine of her body became motion once again. She fucked me with abandon, not without effort at first, but gaining in rhythm and suppleness until her hips found the right beat. Her young tits danced against her body, rhythmed by the slaps of her buttocks against my fragile balls, the skin taut with the pressure of my sperm. Of course she did it for money, but for her that just added the extra bit of pleasure to the pure joy of fucking. Those sighs and that exalted moaning were clearly not acted, I convinced myself as my eyes went from her eyes to the umbilical cord of my dick which joined our bodies together, to the face of the other woman who was shamelessly masturbating next to us, her breath quickening to the fuck. It contributed immensely to my excitement to see how she, each time the girl went down on me, drove a finger in her cunt as though it was she who was balling me and not the girl. And as her fingers started to move quicker and deeper inside her, the girl began to ride me faster and harder, moving from trot to gallop, becoming the active mirror image of the other woman, caressing her thighs and belly as she did, kneading her tits as the other one did, and letting her pelvis being dictated by the finger movements of that older and maturer woman next to us.

But if sufficed that woman no longer that she ruled our play. She moved behind the girl now, her majestic ass on my upper legs. She put her arms around the famished body of the hooker, cupping and massaging her puny breasts in one hand. One finger of the other hand stroked my retreating and advancing shaft and the girl's clit, making her gasp with lust. The heavy scent of sex saturated the air we breathed, mounting to our head and making us drunk with euphoria. She uncupped the hand with which she was stroking the hooker's tits and moved it behind the girl's body. "One finger up your juicy ass", she moaned vulgarly kissing her neck and throat, licking her translucent lobes and tongue fucking the shell of her ear. The girl and I cursed abundantly as I felt through the thin membrane how the knuckle was being pressed into the girl's tight anus and rasped over my shaft as it went. The girl was very close to her climax now. Her face hesitated between fright and determination as she now fucked both my cock and the outstretched finger in her ass. The other woman licked a sinuous tongue over her cheeks, the tip sliding toward the corner of the girl's mouth. At the same time she rode her pussy hard against my upper legs, her juices oozing, making my skin feel warm&wet&prickly with her wetness.

The girl had turned her head slightly sideways. She opened her mouth, flicking her tongue against the tongue of her competitor in lust. As their tongues touched and kissed, a wild thrill went through their bodies, which made its vibrations felt into my cock. "I'mmm comingggg", the girl cried as her pussy started tensing and untensing, as if a rope was being tightened and loosened around my dick. The other women leaned back, pulled the girl's body with her and then, placing her hands firmly on the girl's body, continuing to move her writhing pelvis over my cock, as the girl herself was no longer master over her movements. I needed all my will power to hold back, not wanting to come until I had fucked the other woman as well.

Her wrath and her energy finally spent, the hooker rolled off me, to a corner of the bed, her eyes and her every thought focused on her cunt and the retreating comfort of her climax.

"Yummy, you're still hard and stiff", the voice of my colleague purred, while she moved still further back, her cunt now rubbing and throbbing against my shinbone. She loosened her hair which she had worn piled high on her head, bending over and trailing that unruly mass of gold and red curls over my dick. Words cannot express what I felt. Bending over still further the half moons of her buttocks rose above her shoulders. Her hair, spread lasciviously over my belly, my thighs, her back and her shoulders, hid her face and my waist from my view. And since I was blind to her, it was with the eyes of my senses that I saw her mouth breath against my sex, that I saw her mouth open and close around my dick, sucking it between her lips and smoothing her tongue against it. I groaned, laughing and weeping at so much happiness, as my fingers swam like happy fish through the weeds of her hair. I only existed in my cock, as if my whole being, all my little joys, my childhood tears and my adult dreams were being sucked into the tip of my dick, were I ended and where she began, in the mouth with which she sucked me.

In spite of my former resolutions, I couldn't and didn't want to contain myself any longer. Gushing forth like a well I started coming in a sea of liquid joy, feeling pleasure drain away with every spurt until I was only left with the sad memory of it.

My lover's upper body righted itself, her eyes weeping sperm, her cheeks awash with my semen, tracing white threads through the red of her lips, dripping from her chin and solidifying in hot drops of wax on her breasts. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, dabbing her nipples with them and kneading her breasts, as if she was milking sperm from them. "You really made a mess of my face", she looked accusingly at me, bringing one finger to her lips and licking the semen from it, her mouth grimacing with the salt tang of my cum.

She backed even further up, to the foot end of the bed, pulling her legs under her and spreading her knees outward in a triangle which pointed at her cunt. Then she began caressing herself in front of me with a refinement which touched on the obscene. I was lost. For me there is no gesture of abandon so absolute than that of a woman letting you watch when she pleases herself, sharing her most inner pleasure in a way that is nearly as intimate as sharing her body.

She stroked her hands over the shine of her shoulders, following the small ridges of her clavicles inward to the chasm of her breasts, separating them, and kneading them away from the other, giving her boobs the shape of her hands, lifting up their fragile strength, releasing her hands over the soft surface, spreading her fingers, taking her nipples between ring and middle, pulling and pinching them until it hurt me. All the time she stared me in the eyes as if she could only believe in her pleasure if she read it there. Following my eyes her touches wandered off, over the ribcage; fingers zooming in on the point of the triangle, on her sex. When the tips of her fingers touched her slightly protruding cunt lips, she trembled in the goose bumps of her erect nipples. One fingertip dared prudently into the entrance of her pussy, immediately retreating, then adventuring in again, each time with more resolve, each time further, nudged on by my eyes. She knew how to please herself. And how to excite me. My shriveled prick woke from its lethargy, and slowly crept upwards over my thigh, filling with blood and lust. I felt the physical touch of her eyes as they took in inch after growing inch of my cock, making him even thicker and longer by sheer power of will. When he finally stood upright against my belly, small tremors going through the swollen head, which was fit to burst, she groaned, filling the void of her eyes with my hidden sperm.

She spread her legs even further apart, as if she wanted to split herself wide open for me. I gave her cunt a long longing look as she lay there vulnerable and then taking her eyes hostage with mine, grasped my fat dick in my hand and started to jerk off loudly, slapping my fist hard against my balls. That was more than she could stand. Slowly and with her large boobs menacingly hovering a few inches over the bed, her nipples inking the smooth texture of the sheets red, she crawled or rather slid towards me, every pore of her body screaming to be fucked. It was not as if she had any longer the choice. It wasn't a question of will any more. No. She simply had to be fucked. "Fuck me. Please Fuck me. Fuck me. Please fuck me" was what she whispered in a monotonous and sensuous mantra, as she came nearer, rubbing her aching pussy against the bed.

I hoped that she would mount me and impale herself on my cock. Before my mind's eye I saw her sitting on my lap, riding me like a wild mustang, while I smothered my head between those magnificent bouncing boobs. But instead she rolled over onto her back, beckoning me. On outstretched arms I moved over her, for the time touching each other nowhere, except in the tip of my dick, except in the bud of her clit. We trembled with anticipation. And then I pressed forward. The penetration was overwhelming and mind shattering. A second long I kept still, trying to remember the feel of me inside her, trying to etch every pore, every nerve ending of her cunt in my brain, feeling her sex breathe against my cock, sensing the walls of her pussy hug my shaft. An infinite second long. That endless second before I started fucking her. I gave it to her good and hard, because passion hates tenderness. We hurled insults and obscenities in each other's face, as if we blamed the other one for our own horniness. Next to our fucking and sweating bodies, the girlie hooker had come to lay down again, masturbating herself in overtime, as if she could postpone death that way, but she was out of the picture for us. She had served her purpose. Proving that I cheated on my wife. Which I undoubtedly did, I thought as I fucked the woman under me, her breasts wobbly, her nipples blurred in my vision as she stirred and squirmed, her sharp fingernails writing my unfaithfulness in letters of blood in the skin of my back with each mighty thrust. But what did I care about words like faithfulness and truth and love as long as I could fuck this beautiful women, fucking away all my debts and all my sorrows in the marrow of her cunt.

My cock was a wedge with which I split her open into her most secret core, and when I touched her there, deep in her womb, the dam burst. She shook her head to and fro, looking for an escape, but not finding it, except in coming, except in climaxing. Her back arched, she retched and convulsed violently, so extreme was the pain of pleasure. And she came. And I came with her, ejaculating in the blinding flash of her orgasm, her cunt a maelstrom of sperm. For a moment I lived. For a moment I understood everything. And then it was over. Sadly I rolled off her, alone again. I turned on my side and looked at how her body was raked by after shocks, eyes firmly shut, her hands firmly clasped between the screw of her thighs, as if she wanted to prevent her orgasm from oozing away. In vain.

Slowly she opened her eyes again and gazed thoughtfully upon the stranger who had just fucked her. A melancholic smile broke her face in half. "You really and truly are a lousy dick. But such a great fuck. You really and truly made me come", she said, kindly fondling my sex and my balls. And then adding "I would feel such a bitch giving these pictures to your wife. I feel there is nothing I can refuse you now. Just ask", she went on. "Would you like me to erase them?" I didn't have to think. "No", I answered, bending over the kiss her. "You can give it to her. On one condition.". Her face questioned mine. "That you put your name alongside mine on the door of my office. Colleague."

If you liked this story feel free to react to wilde_zijde@hotmail.com And girls and women out there, don't hesitate to add me on msn

Long Gone Lonesome Blues

Long Gone Lonesome Blues
By: Jake Rivers (jake.rivers@gmail.com)

Lonesome Blues By Jake Rivers ©

Long Gone Lonesome Blues Written and recorded by Hank Williams. Copyright, Acuff-Rose Music, Inc./Hiriam Music (BMI)

Author's note: I was sipping on a scotch - Damn, I gotta stay away from that stuff - the other night while working through my email. I was playing my Hank Williams playlist on iTunes, and one of the songs caught my ear. It was of course, "Long Gone Lonesome Blues." This is not as well known as many of his other songs but it has always been one of my favorites. Like many country songs it is not a happy ballad, but a song of the sadness and pain that life sometimes brings.

Thanks as always to techsan for his editing.

NICARAGUA

"I had me a woman who couldn't be true. She made me for my money and she made me blue. A man needs a woman that he can lean on, But my leanin' post is done left and gone. She's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue."

Hank Williams

I met Nita on her father's coffee plantation. Young, lively, short, pert, curvy, sexy, and stunningly beautiful; I could not put into words her vivacious appeal. She smiled at me, she owned me.

I'm Sam Carmichael. For the last five years I've been a contract commodities researcher for several companies that buy and sell coffee futures on the New York Board of Trade. I would travel all over the world to different coffee growing areas and gather all the information I could. Standard stuff: data on anything that could affect market prices such as weather, business climate, and government stability.

I was good at what I did and didn't have much competition. I had a lot of friends in the same type of business. We shared a lot of hushed whispers over more than a few beers. We bought and sold on our own accounts in various commodities. We did pretty well. Quietly I did great. It wasn't really illegal, but maybe not completely legal either. I wasn't what I would call rich, but I had a couple mill stashed in several investment accounts.

With some of the money I had bought an attic flat in Greenwich Village. It was formerly an artist's studio and had great light. I spent a bundle remodeling it the way I wanted. Lovely inlaid Mahogany floors and a wide open floor plan. I liked the area a lot; it suited me well - I'd always been somewhat of an iconoclast, sort of a free spirit.

I was in my mid-thirties and had never been married. I traveled about half the time and I'd never met anyone that made a permanent relationship worth the effort. Sex was no problem. There were so many airheads and college girls that had moved to New York from western Kansas that it was like picking bananas from a tree. I was pretty jaded by now and was getting a little more selective. That and the health stuff scared the shit out of me.

I was sorta seeing a girl regularly. Christie Sands played guitar in a trendy basement bar that had opened up about six months ago. We weren't exactly an item; it was more that we had an unspoken agreement. Neither of us wanted entanglements and we both were pretty selective. It wasn't perfect but it worked.

I was in Nicaragua in the province of Matagalpa. There were persistent stories about conversion of coffee acreage to other uses. This was a not-uncommon trend in Central America and could cause major disruptions to the futures market. I wanted to get out and talk to farmers and better understand the whys and wherefores of what was going on.

I was at the plantation of Felix Aguirre. I had been his guest for about a week while he was showing me around some of the nearby plantations and getting me in to talk to the owners. I had met his younger brother in New York at a trade show and we got on well. It was a great help to my research and I made sure Felix knew how much I appreciated his help.

We had been gone all day and on the way back stopped and had a couple of icy beers from a local bar that Felix frequented. The beers were long-necked Victoria's, kept in a washtub at the end of the bar. It was the local version of Heineken but it was not as good. Not anywhere near as good. But it was cold and wet and tasted a hell of a lot better that it should have.

It was kind of neat the way they worked the beer. You just helped yourself and once in a while someone would come along and pick up the empties and add to the tab. They never wiped the tables, but they were very good at picking up the bottles.

Felix dropped me off at the ranch house and said he needed to talk to his foreman for an hour of so. He told me to go ahead and get cleaned up and have a couple of real Heinekens. We had been batching it, except for the servants, but I knew they would be long gone this late at night. Felix's wife and daughter were in Managua visiting friends. They wouldn't be back for another week, well after I left.

I stripped my dirty clothes; I was sweaty and filthy from stomping around coffee plantations all day, not to mention riding in the jeep along dusty roads ... clouds of dust type of dusty. I walked naked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. I held the icy bottle to my forehead, enjoying the shock of the cold bottle. I tipped it up and drank it straight down.

I grabbed another and dragged my tired ass to the bathroom for a cold shower. More heat was the last thing I wanted right now. The door was partially open, so I kicked it a little with my foot - and dropped my beer in shock. There was this vision, this Madonna standing there in a bra and panties brushing her hair. When she heard the bottle hit the floor she turned and stared at me for a second and started screaming.

"Discretion is the better part of valor" is not just an expression. I turned and ran to my room as fast as I could.

I put my dirty clothes back on and stood there a little trying to figure out what had happened. After a few minutes I heard the jeep come back and heard Felix come in the kitchen door. I figured it was safe for me to come out. I walked to the kitchen and saw Felix downing a beer, as I had earlier.

"Gringo! You are not dressed yet. Here, take this and jump in the shower" he said and handed me another beer. I went to my room, down a long hallway from the rest of the house and grabbed my clean clothes. I had noticed the bathroom door was open.

I finally took my cold shower, needing the cold water to temper the image - and its effects on me - from my earlier trip to the bathroom. I guess the girl had cleaned up the broken glass.

Thinking about it I could only believe it must be Felix's daughter and she had come back early for some reason. There was a picture of her in the hallway that looked something like the lovely beauty I'd seen, but the girl in the photo was skinny, maybe sixteen years old. Maybe the same girl in some ways but certainly not the same girl in others. The one I saw was not skinny, but lovely curves in all the right places.

After the shower I wandered down to the kitchen to grab another beer. The girl and Felix sat at the table chatting.

"Gringo, this is my daughter, Anita," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I understand you two have already met?"

Blushing, I stammered "Yes, but not formally."

I took her hand to shake it but I just stared at her, neither shaking her hand nor letting it go.

After a time, maybe thirty seconds, she blushed and pulled her hand back.

Felix laughed and said "Hey, Gringo. Her name is Anita, but if you call her anything but Nita you better duck."

I took my beer and sat at the table with them. The beer helped calm the emotional storm raging in my head and I was able to look at Nita and not blush. She was really quite friendly and I started having fun. She was clearly the "apple" of Felix's eye. They would tease each other and sometimes me.

We did all of our talking in English. I actually understood their language fairly well - I should, I had four years of high school Spanish and picked up quite a bit in my travels. I had a terrible accent though; I was raised in rural Alabama and what came out when I tried to speak Spanish was always received with laughs. I could pick up most of what was said and could actually read pretty fluently.

The cook had left some Arroz a la Valenciana to be warmed up. Nita told me this was a typical Nicaragüense dish of chicken and rice. It was actually very tasty and went well with the beer. We enjoyed the meal with a lot of laughter.

One incident during the meal was somewhat funny. Felix asked his daughter in Spanish if the men from the north were different - "Maybe bigger?" he had said laughing at her!

She blushed furiously said "Papa!" It was some time before she looked my way again.

Well, needless to say I was smitten. I didn't get too much work done the rest of the trip. Nita said she had come home early because she was bored. We spent the last three days of my trip going all over in the jeep. Once we stopped in the middle of the ford of a shallow but wide stream, the water was maybe up to the axles. Except for the noise of the stream, the gurgles and burbles of water running over rocks, it was deathly quiet. We sat there enjoying the respite.

Nita put her hand on my arm and leaned over and kissed me. I pulled back, then leaned in and kissed her, I mean really kissed her. I put my hand on her leg, under her skirt, and slowly stroked it up and down her firm thigh. As I got to the edge of her panties, she jumped and pulled back immediately. I tried to tell her I was sorry, but she just sat there stone-faced, looking straight ahead.

By the time we got back to the ranch she seemed to have forgotten about it and was chattering brightly, like a blue jay. There was no repeat of anything like the kiss ... until the last night. I was leaving the next morning early. Felix was driving me to the nearest town with an airstrip where I would be picked up and flown back to Managua for the trip home.

It was very hot that night, and I was sleeping nude on top of the sheets - a film of sweat glistening over my body. Late, I don't know how late, I faintly heard a rustling of satin and then felt a soft weight on the edge of the bed. Startled, I started to rise up, but a hand pushed me down and Nita lay on top of me, crying softly.

Not knowing what to do, I put my arms around her, slowly stroking her back. Her back slick with sweat, my hands moved with ease softly, slowly up and down. She calmed and stopped crying.

"Love me, please?" she whispered in my ear.

There was something, I don't know. It was like walking by a graveyard at night. It felt like ... a hint of darkness tugging at my soul. But I was lost to the moment, to the heat, to the passion to come. The warm, lithe body on me started moving, touching me, bringing me to arousal. I turned her over kissing her breasts, the sweat a salty tang on my tongue. I started rubbing my hand on her bushy hair, down over the hard bone to the soft flesh. I felt her getting wet and massaged her clitoris.

Moaning, she gasped with her first release. Positioning myself I slowly entered her. There was a slight resistance, another gasp from Nita and I was all the way in, starting a slow, gentle rocking movement. We loved twice more that hot night. Our bodies were steaming with the heat from within and without. There was a sexual abandonment I never expected from her, a freeness that was different from anything I had experienced so far.

Sometime during the night she silently slipped away. A dream? A fantasy? No, in the harsh light of the lamp I saw several splashes of blood on the sheets as I got up to the tap on the door, daylight still hours away Damn, what had I done?

With some trepidation I said goodbye to Nicaragua, making the long trip home.

NEW YORK

"I'm gonna find me a river, one that's cold as ice. And when I find me that river, lord I'm gonna pay the price, oh lord! I'm goin' down in it three times, but lord I'm only comin' up twice. She's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue."

Hank Williams

I got back to New York at the same time winter arrived. There was a cold, wind blown rain, seemingly coming from the side. It was good to get in my apartment, back to my routine.

I thought about Nita, wondering. At times I felt as if I was half in love with her, other times I knew I was. The rest of the time I just felt guilty as hell for what I had done to her. Lying awake in the early morning hours I thought I should write a story, "Innocence Lost."

I worked on my various reports for the Central American trip. I had to put together bound copies for each company I hired out to, plus put together formal presentations. They all liked to do this since it gave them a chance to ask questions. They would get the report and a week later I would do the presentation. Pulling it all together kept me busy, too busy to be preoccupied with what I'd done to Nita. It started fading to the back of my mind.

It must have been about two months after I got back I came home to the flat on a blustery, damp day. Not raining, but a heavy mist and colder than hell. I climbed up the stairs (there was an elevator, but it was rickety and slow - I rarely used it) to my place. As I turned the last corner of the stairs, I was shocked ... Nita was in front of my door sitting on a suitcase.

I started, "Nita?" but she jumped up and ran to me, engulfing me in her arms, crying.

"Sam, Sam, my Gringo," she said over and over, tears running down her face.

Finally I got her separated from me and opened the door. I got a damp cloth and wiped her face off, then gave her a small brandy and a glass of water. Gradually she calmed down and I tried to get her to talk. I had no idea what was going on.

"Sam, do you have anything to eat? I wasn't feeling well on the plane, my stomach has been upset. Some soup and crackers would be nice." She asked if she could take a shower and change clothes while I fixed her dinner.

She came out of the bath wearing my terrycloth robe, lost in its size and looking sixteen years old. I fed her, and then took her to the sofa in front of the gas fireplace so we could talk. She snuggled up to me, burying her face in my neck.

"Sam," she whispered, "Sam, I'm pregnant!"

Stunned, I pulled back and looked at her. She blushed prettily and put her face in my neck again.

This was something I certainly hadn't planned on. Not in my wildest dreams had I expected this. I was confused, but here she was. She was not an apparition - she was warm and real.

I put her in the guest bedroom - she, of course, had no place to stay. I was up late, drinking scotch and watching the flames in the fireplace, mesmerized. I thought about it, about what to do. It really came down to a simple, non-decision. I had no choice but to take her in and care for her.

It turned out it wasn't my decision to make. In the early morning pre-dawn hours, she slipped into my bed and we made slow, quiet love. Waking up later, her leg thrown carelessly over mine, I looked at her face. Peaceful, innocent, it was the face of every Madonna, of Earth Woman, pregnant, carrying my spawn. I kissed her nose and her eyes slowly opened.

"Sam, Gringo mío," she quietly said ... and then jumped up and threw her arms around me. "Sam, will you take care of me?" she pleaded, a cry of need, of lost innocence.

"Nita, yes, I'll take care of you," I whispered in a tender voice.

I left her in the flat that day to get settled in, telling her where the corner grocer was and giving her some money. I couldn't stay home because I had two presentations scheduled. Stopping at Tiffany's on the way home, I looked over rings. I decided on the spot that I did love her, maybe more than I realized. I picked out both engagement and wedding rings for both of us, not inexpensive.

At the corner store, I also grabbed some flowers. Knocking on the door, I lay the flowers down, and moved to the side. She opened the door, saw the flowers and then squealed as she saw me standing there. I put my arms around her and told her I knew my love was real and deep.

She pulled me in and dragged me to the bed, shedding clothes as she went. I stopped her at the edge of the bed and pulled out the engagement ring. Taking her hand, I kissed the ring finger and slid the engagement ring on. It was a trifle large, but not too much. We made love with abandon, not like that of the early morning hours. In between the waxing and waning of our physical love we talked and made plans.

The next morning I took her to buy some maternity clothes. She wasn't showing but she was excited as hell about having a baby so I went along with it.

I started working on her green card; she was there on a tourist visa. My lawyer had handled cases like this before and knew how to make it happen. We did have to go to Montreal for a week and then come back. It was really cold there, but we had a lot of fun.

After she had been there about a month I had to make a one-week trip to Sumatra. There were the usual political turmoil in Indonesia and one of my clients asked me to take a first hand look. I called back every night; Nita was still a little intimidated by New York. The third night I was gone, Nita was almost hysterical when she answered the phone.

Crying, she was able to get out that she had a miscarriage. She kept saying over and over "you won't want me without the baby!"

I finally calmed her down, talking soothingly, like to a child. I assured her that I still loved her and we could make new babies. I rushed home as quickly as I could; I was worried about how she was taking it.

After assuring her that I was going ahead with the marriage and her permanent resident visa, she got over it quicker that I expected. I tried to get her to go out and make some friends because I was always going to have to travel. She did insist that we get rid of her maternity clothes "because they made her sad."

We did get married and I was more in love with her each day. I marveled at what I had missed by staying single so long. But then I had found the perfect girl so the wait was worth it. After a year, I couldn't imagine living without her. I spoiled her, buying her things and letting her visit her family in Nicaragua whenever she wanted to. Without my realizing it, these trips were for a longer period each time she went.

One time she came back with another girl, Eva, her best friend she said. "Querido, is it okay if she stays with us for a couple weeks? Her brother Alonso is coming up then and they will get an apartment together."

I didn't really care, so she stayed with us for a time. I saw a new side of Nita. With her friend she was much more confident, more outgoing. I puzzled over this, but didn't think too much about it. I also noticed that when the two of them went out, to a movie or whatever, she dressed much less modestly. I didn't like this but didn't want to say anything while her friend was staying in out apartment.

The brother did show up as scheduled. I met him just the once when he came by to pick up his sister. He was tall for a Latin, with dark curly hair and handsome, I guess, in an intense way. I talked only briefly to him, but he seemed very political. I didn't ask but I gathered he was with the remnants of the Sandinistas. Nita was gone all day helping them set up their apartment.

We had our first argument that night. I was going out of town in a couple days and had wanted to spend the day together. We hadn't had much chance for real closeness while her friend was staying with us.

"Gringo, you are being silly. I give you all my love but I need my friends"

I pouted for a while but I didn't want to jeopardize an opportunity for some sex that night so I backed off. The payoff was wonderful. Nita was lusty that night, actually wanton. For the first time she sucked me off and swallowed everything, and carefully cleaned me with her tongue afterwards. She had never done that before.

The next day I was reading the trade press and Nita was on the phone with Eva. They were talking in rapid colloquial Spanish, of course, but without really listening I could understand most of it. I had never told her that I understood most of what I would hear but, since I never spoke Spanish, she assumed I didn't know anything. I kind of shut the conversation out, but my ears perked up when I heard something about the miscarriage.

Paying attention now, I was bewildered why she would be laughing about the miscarriage. As I listened, shocked, I understood that she had never been pregnant. I couldn't hear anymore because she carried the phone into the bathroom and I could just hear indecipherable murmurs.

I couldn't breathe for a moment, trying desperately to understand what this meant. It was really pretty simple though; if she hadn't been pregnant, then everything was a sham. Her love, everything. I got up, grabbed my overcoat and went for a walk. I went over to the bar where Tana played the guitar. I didn't want to be home and I didn't want to be alone.

I got home around eleven, Nita acting half pissed and half scared. I mumbled something and went to bed. I was asleep when she came in.

I left early the next morning for my trip, a day early. I left a note for Nita telling her something had come up and I had to leave to take care of a problem that had came up.

I went to Brazil, trying to concentrate on my work, but it was hopeless. I got drunk every night guzzling Caipirinhas, not the smartest thing to do. I was devastated. I guess it hit me harder because I had been single for so long. My love had become obsessive.

After a couple days I called Ted, my lawyer, and told him what I needed. He said it would be expensive but I just said, "Do it!"

I left Brazil a couple days early but I didn't go home. I checked into a small hotel I liked and called Ted. He met me in a nearby Bistro after he finished working.

"Sam, It's not good. I'll just jump right into it. Eva and Alonso are up here raising funds for a terrorist group in Nicaragua. Nita is in the group too. She joined the group a couple of years ago when an American tourist hit her boyfriend with his car and never even slowed down. I understand that all three hate Americans with a passion."

"Also I hate to tell you this but Nita and Alonso are lovers. There are pictures in this packet. I'm sorry, Sam."

"Shit. Let me think. Okay, let the FBI and immigration know about Alonso and Eva. I'll take care of Nita."

"Okay, but don't do anything stupid."

"Yeah, sure. Let me know when they are picked up. I'll be at the hotel."

The next morning Ted called and said that the brother and sister had been picked up. "We don't have an extradition treaty with Nicaragua but I understand we are making an exception in this case. The government there is very interested in getting their hands on them."

I left and went to confront Nita. She was taking a shower when I walked in.

"Sam, you are back early."

"Shut up, bitch, and get out of the shower!"

"Sam, what?"

I jerked the shower door open and yanked her out. "Eva and Alonso were picked up this morning and are being turned over to the Nicaraguan government."

"Sam, what have you done? You don't understand."

"That is just the problem, Nita, I do understand. I understand everything."

I ripped open the package of pictures. The first one showed Nita worshiping Alonso's cock. Grabbing her chin I stuck the photo in her face. "I understand this!" Taking another picture showing her riding him with a look of intense concentration on her face, I showed it to her. "I understand this, too."

"Nita, what is it that you think I don't understand? About your boyfriend killed by the car? About your activities with the terrorists? How you lied to me about being pregnant? Shit, even about coming to my bed that night in Nicaragua, that was even part of the plan, wasn't it? Goddamn, wasn't it?" I shouted.

"You don't know how I loved you. I gave you all of me. My heart. I gave you my soul. You should have killed me. It would have been more merciful."

I threw the rest of the pictures in her face and stomped out, ignoring her screaming, "Sam, I do love you. You don't understand, the movement ..." as I slammed the door.

I was sick. I got a bottle of Knob Creek from the corner store, and walked to the garage where I kept my car. I needed a place to think. I kept a kayak at the Palisade's Boat Club in Yonkers, on the Hudson.

There wouldn't be anyone there at this time of night but I had a key to the gate. I drove over there, got a parka and some gloves from the trunk, grabbed the bourbon and put my kayak in the water. I didn't have any plans; I was going to float down the river a ways, just thinking and becoming one with the Knob Creek.

It was quiet on the river, quiet and cold! I thought of all that had happened, of my crushed love, my love that never was. Nita was just a persona, a mantle that could be worn or shorn as needed. I didn't know if I had anything to live for or not.

I drifted, drinking, getting cold, thinking of the call I was probably going to make. I looked at my cell phone, stared at it. I made the call.

I looked at the cold, cold river, knowing the water was icy. Knowing if I slipped off the side it was over just like that. I thought of one of my favorite songs, one of Hank Williams lesser known ones "Long Gone Lonesome Blues." Nita was long gone, in one way or another. I was lonesome, and I was sure blue. I looked at the water again, wondering at the shade of blue I would turn to if I fell in.

I drank some more bourbon and drifted, thinking of the call I'd made. Wondering at how I could have made it. Knowing I had no choice. My only choice was to live or not live. I brooded, I sipped. I finished the bottle. I took that as a sign. I wanted another bottle ... that meant I had to live. To live. I shouted it, as loud as I could. "I want to live!"

I stood up and threw the empty bottle at the Gods, screaming, "Fuck you Nita!"

I overbalanced, slipped from the shaky kayak, kicking it away from me. I fell hard into the river, the icy cold water grabbing my parka with a death grip. With a fantastic effort I pulled myself above water. I couldn't see the kayak. "No," I shouted, "I want to live," and plunged again in the murky, black death. Weaker this time I struggled, fighting literally for my life, pulling for the surface as I tried to shed the anchor of the parka.

I gasped a breath, knowing it was my last. As I went under I burbled, "live ..." I sank, down, dark, cold. My body was shutting down, my mind, drifting dreaming. My last thought was of my call on the cell phone, to a childhood friend, Guy. The gang called him Guy, but his momma called him Guido.

I came to some semblance of my senses retching on the deck of a boat. Looking up I saw the uniform of a NYPD Harbor Patrol sergeant.

He smiled at me, "We were coming upriver and saw your Kayak turn over. You are one lucky SOB!"

Thinking of my call to Guido, I smiled back at him, and nodded.

Two weeks later I reported Nita as a missing person.

I started going back to the bar where Christie was still playing the guitar and being a sometimes-bartender. We dated a few times, became intimate again, and after six months she moved in with me.

We are both happy with the arrangement. Neither of was looking for commitments ... and I damn sure wouldn't be thinking of marriage for a few years, if ever. Kids weren't even on the agenda. Maybe in a few years, but for now I was happier listening to Christie playing the blues instead of me feeling them. I wasn't lonesome anymore and my blues were long gone.

Life was good.

EPILOGUE

Nita slowly woke, stiff, cold, hands tied behind her. It was dark. Moving her feet she guessed she was on the deck of a large yacht, that was rocking in the choppy sea. Time passed, her arms painful, then numb.

She heard another boat, a larger one from the sound of the engine.

A tall, dark complexioned, handsome man stood over her, smiling and solicitous. "Let me help you up," he said quietly as he cut the ropes and easily lifted her up.

"Who are you?" Nita frantically asked. "What do you want with me?"

"I'm Guido, a friend of Sam's. He knew me as Guy, but I outgrew that years ago. Sam asked me to do him a favor. He was my best friend, I said ?sure.'"

"What? Where are we?"

"That's okay, Nita, everything is okay. Sam asked me to introduce you to a guy he had a few beers with in Managua a couple of years ago. Oh, here he is."

Nita turned, face turning pale with shock as she recognized the man feared above all others by her terrorist group. As her knees turned week with fright she saw an evil smile come over the face of Coronel Pablo De Leon, the head of the Nicaraguan Secret Police.

With a soft smile, he took her hand and led her to small motorboat waiting to take them to the large navy ship idling alongside. "Talk to me, chica. Tell me of your friends. Oh, yes, my lovely, we shall talk a lot and get to know one another."

Nita shuddered as she thought of the love she had so carelessly abused and discarded.

Well, some days are dark! What can I say?

Comments and votes always appreciated.

Tennis and a massage

Tennis, poker and a massage. 

My beautiful wife was crazy about her weekly tennis game.  She kept fit

and was wonderfully in shape for a woman of 34, or for any age for that 

matter. 

She had short brown hair and two very well shaped boobs on her small

frame.  Her hips were wide and her legs were well shaped.  She had the 

cutest but and a huge pussy with just a tinny landing strip of pubic 

hair.   She was waxed every other inch, right to and including her 

butthole. 

John and Billy, two close friends, and I were playing cards late one

Saturday afternoon when my wife, Jenny, returned home from her tennis 

game.   She looked stunning in her short white skirt and tight top, 

with her legs beautifully tanned. 

I always enjoyed it when she looked sexy and was the object of longing

and lustfull stares.  This afternoon was no exception.  Billy let out a 

low whistle when she entered the room and said;  "Wow. Don't you look 

great in your tennis kit!"  I could see him studying her ample boobs 

and lovely body unashamedly.  I knew he had a permanent case of the 

hots for her, and we both enjoyed the compliment. 

"Come and join us for a game." invited John and I could see that he too

would like the opportunity to see a bit more of Jenny. 

"What are you playing for? " she asked, and Billy answered, straight

faced simply: "clothes"  She laughed and Billy steered it away: 

"Tequila. The loser has to take a shot." 

"I'm in." she laughed and sat down cross legged on the sofa where she

could join the game.  We had off course not been playing for drinks 

until then but it was the route to go to get to playing for clothes.  I 

quite fancied  the idea of Jenny showing her beautiful tits and 

exquisite nipples to my buddies.  I did not think it would go beyond 

that and I liked the idea of a little tease. 

As it were, the way she was sitting with her short tennis dress we could

all catch a glimpse of the bulge her big mound made in the tennis 

panty.  She was clearly not concerned with what we could see of her 

solid fabric tennis panty. 

We played a number of rounds during which the tequila flowed and the

atmosphere became more loose and excited.  Jenny too had a couple of 

downs.   When she lost again, she protested that she had enough.   The 

answer was quick - you can get out of drinking if you take something 

off. 

Jenny laughed and took of a shoe, and the game changed. 

Soon she was out of her shoes and socks and the guys were down to their

boxers.  Billy had a malfunction with his boxers' fly and kept falling 

out.  Not that it bothered him much.  Jenny however, had a good look at 

his goods and seemed to like what she saw. 

When Jenny lost another round she took of her top and then took her bra

off, while trying to cover her tits with her arm, and put her top back 

on.  In  the process the guys had quite a view of her lovely body. 

She happily played on without her bra but showing nothing.  Till  she

lost again.  I was still wondering what she was going to do now, when 

she wriggled out of her panty, making sure her short tennis dress 

covered the necessary places.  The guys were quite excited at the idea 

that she was sitting on her naked fanny and John showed quite a bulge 

in his boxers. 

Jenny seemed to enjoy the excitement too and I thought it quite harmless

fun.  I even asked her to get us some beers from the fridge. Much to my 

surprise, she obliged quite readily.   She got up and walked to the 

kitchen, showing just the bottom of her bum sticking out beneath her 

tennis dress.  It looked delightful and I was amazed at my wife acting 

so cute. 

She came back with the beers on a tray and served each male in turn. 

The men could hardly look at the beer the way they were straining to 

see under her skirt - but nothing showed at the front. 

The rear was a different story. She made sure that she offered only a

glimpse of her hind view as she offered each guy his drink.  We could 

not really see much but our imaginations ran wild at the sight of her 

pretty bum.  She was clearly enjoying the tease and so was I. 

Play went on and soon she lost again.  There was now no spare clothing.

"Off with the top!"  The guys cheered.  She looked at me for guidance.  

I nodded. Slowly my lovely wife pulled her top over her head, exposing 

her two magnificent marble white breasts.   Her nipples were very much 

erect, showing that she too, enjoyed the game.  Then she covered her 

tits with her arms and took a cushion from one of the sofas to cover 

herself.  But she now had to many places to try and cover and every now 

and then her short skirt would ride up a bit and expose her shaven 

pussy. 

Soon the men also lost their boxers and likewise tried, sort of, to

shelter  their tools behind cushions.  John did little to hide his 

erection and every now and then it popped out to surprise Jenny. 

"Ooh look at you!" Jenny exclaimed when John's cock appeared. "What do

you expect ..." he countered  "with you sitting with your pussy on 

display!"   Our attention shifted to Jenny's cunt which was sticking 

out underneath her skirt again. 

"Ooh!" she said as she saw what he was referring too, and pulled her

skirt over the offending part, in the process letting go of the cushion 

over her tits. 

"Ooh" she said again and gave up trying to cover them. 

"Let me rarther go and get you another beer!" she said , did likewise,

walking away with her white buns now freely on display. Jenny put down 

the beers on a low coffee table and complained "my back is killing me." 

To which Billy promptly replied "let me massage you."  "I have a 

certificate in sport massage." he lied glibly. 

"'Let me just fetch a towel. " Jenny agreed quickly, and left for the

bathroom, leaving all the men sitting with big erections in 

anticipation. 

Jenny returned with just a towel round her hips.  She gave the naked men

sitting with their big erections one look and laughed: "it seems I have 

started a party!" 

She lay down on the carpet, offering herself for the promised massage. 

"I'll do her back and you can each do a leg" I suggested, taking my

place at her head, with my hard on directly in her sight. 

I rubbed oil on her back and she grunted contentedly. 

I passed the oil to the other two guys, who rubbed it on her legs

cautiously, minding the line made by the towel. 

Jenny was lying with her legs together, so I said: "what the heck, they

will not do you gluteus muscles any good like that." and leaned over 

and pulled her towel completely off.  The guys ogled her cheerful white 

backside.  She had put her fullback white tennis panty back on 

underneath the towel.  Her next words were a clear indication that my 

fantasy to see my wife pleasured by other men was about to become a 

reality:  "If you want John and Billy to enjoy my puss I only ask that 

you pull my panty off yourself."  She still was not saying that she 

would go all the way, but the limits of the tease was being tested. 

I moved to her feet.  John and Billy were standing on the same side with

monster hard ons, which the did not even try to hide. 

I asked: "you guys want to see Jenny's pussy?" They could only nod. 

I took hold of her panty on the sides and started to pull it down. 

Jenny lifted her pelvis just enough to let the panty slip by, still 

keeping her legs together.  Her bottom was marble white, but still she 

lay on her tummy, concealing everything. 

I put some oil on my hands and massaged her bum. In the process I pulled

her ass cheeks  apart and showed her little pink puckered hole to the 

two admiring guys.   Jenny did not show any objection. 

"She likes to have her hole rubbed." I explained my next move. 

I slipped an oily finger between her but cheeks and rubbed her arse with

it. With the other hand I pulled her butt away so that my friends could 

have a clear view of what was going on. 

Jenny grunted pleasurably and opened her legs and lifted her bum.   Her

pussy flowered before our eyes. "Now it is John and Billy's turn." she 

said.   "Don't forget my thighs and gluts in your hurry to get to my 

pussy." 

Continued..........