The Big Game

You saunter through the room and hand me my 3rd beer. I have a nice buzz on as I stare up into your eyes, ‘Thanks babe,’ I say as I take it and set it next to me. You are wearing a dangerously short black skirt, and a tight red spaghetti strap top. Your nipples are hard and poking out for all to see. You don’t care, you like showing them off.

‘No problem, sweetie,’ you say as you turn and head back to the kitchen. My eyes aren’t the only ones watching as you disappear.

‘You are one lucky guy, Dustin,’ a friend says.

‘Fuck yeah,’ says another. Smiling broadly at the compliments. Maybe it’s the beer, but I drop a bombshell and say,

‘And she’s not wearing any underwear.’ The room explodes, the guys hooting and hollering. You run back into the room. We all quiet down.

Andy says, ‘Uhh, the Redskins just sacked the quarterback.’ And with that you head back to the kitchen. Then he turns to me and in a whisper, ‘You’re fucking with us.’ All the guys lean forward to hear my answer.

‘Nope. I told her no underwear and she’s not wearing any.’ The guys shake their heads. I notice Dave and Jim adjusting their pants. I think their getting erections, but I’m not about to ask. I take another swig of beer. ‘She loves not wearing underwear. Gets her hot. She fucks like an animal when she’s gone a day without wearing them.’ The guys all take a long drink of beer.

‘No fucking way. You’re lying,’ says Derek.

‘Watch,’ I reply. I call to you and you strut in.

‘You called lover?’ you ask. I motion you over to me. You bend down and I grab you and pull you forward. Bending at the knees I lock my lips on your. My tongue slips into your mouth. You struggle a bit, then kiss me fully. While we are kissing I pull up the bottom of your skirt, without you realizing it. I let go of you.

‘That’s all I wanted.’

‘Are you sure?’ you ask in a sultry, thrusting a hip in my direction. Laughing I pat your bottom as I send you away. When you’re gone I turn to Andy.


‘You weren’t lying,’ he says, then adds, ‘Dudes she’s totally shaved.’ The hooting begins again, but this time you don’t come into the room. I sit back to watch the game. As I take another pull from the bottle, Jim gets up and leaves.

Remembering Mardi Gras

I was wearing ten strands of beads, and the night was just beginning. My date had left to find a restroom and I hadn’t seen him since. Then again, who needs a date at Mardi Gras?

My dress was tight and soaked from sweat and spilled drinks. I smelled like Rum & Coke. I had worn a tube dress because it yanks down so quickly and easily, and I was determined to win my share of beads. It was also short, in case I gathered the courage to try earning a few more strands of Mardi-Gras beads. But so far I hadn’t dared – that was like inviting rape. And every man in a three foot radius grabbed for your pussy the second you lifted your skirt.

“What will you do with your beads afterwards?” yelled a voice at my ear, straining to be heard above the music and noise of the crowd. I craned my neck to see him: the crowd was so tightly packed that it was nearly impossible to turn around.

“I thought I’d hang them on my grandmother’s grave,” I shouted over my shoulder. “She always did love Mardis Gras.”

He laughed. It was a rich, dark Cajun laugh. “You’re funny. I appreciate that.”

I felt him put his hands on my hips, which constitutes ‘dancing together’ in a crowd like this. I looked down. His hands were large and dark, with fingers that were thin and elegant but also strong. Heat rushed to between my legs. His head leaned forward against the back of mine. We danced. Several minutes later he spoke again.

“You remind me of my best friend in high school. I can’t figure why.”

“I hope your best friend was a girl.”

He laughed again. “Lor’, yes. I haven’t seen her since high school.” A minute later he added, “I think it’s your hair. She had long hair; she kept it just the way you do.”

“Were you two strictly friends?”

At first it seemed like he hadn’t heard me, though I knew he had. He took so long to reply.

“I always wanted more, but I never had the guts.”

I could feel him growing harder against my ass. The heat between my legs grew in like. I pressed slightly backwards, rubbing back and forth against him. His breath rushed past my ear. His hands migrated downwards until they came to rest at the hem of my dress. The heat between my legs grew again, and I could feel myself growing wet.

Cindy Loosens Up

My wife and I met in high school. I was a football stud and a party animal. She was an honors student and painfully shy. I actually approached her because I felt sorry for her at some party that her friends had dragged her to. She just stood in a corner and looking down at the floor. I walked up and started a conversation. It did not take long to realize how beautiful and sweet she was. I gave up my hound dog ways and decided that I had found what I had been searching for all along.

Our relationship was very innocent at first. She was completely inexperienced so I was gentle and patient with her. She did not have a clue as to her beauty. The first time I saw her without her clothes it took my breath away. She is blonde and petite with a very tight body. Her breasts were the perfect fit for my hands. They are quite firm and so responsive that her nipples get hard from just a kiss on her lips. Her blue eyes are so deep that they seem to engulf me. Six years later I still cannot get enough of kissing her.

Like I said she was shy. She had only been kissed once before me. I, on the other hand, had spread my oats both far and wide. It took a month before I made it inside her bra, three months before she would touch my dick with her hand, and three weeks after that before I touched her perfect pussy.

We did not have sex until we were married.

Two years after our first date!

I had an unbelievable set of blue balls. I just have to say thank god for porn! On our wedding night we had the clumsiest sex of my life. I did not come and she bled all over our wedding bed. Not one for the memory book.

As time went on we got better. After several months of missionary I introduced a new position, she was hesitant at first but soon learned to enjoy being on top. Getting her to blow me was a chore. She never let me cum in her mouth.

Good thing I loved her so much. In every other way she was perfect. She was a wonderful cook and fastidiously clean. She loved the same movies I did. Laughed at my jokes. And loved me completely. I never even contemplated cheating on her. But I did buy more porn.

I became somewhat of a regular at the local adult video store. I even befriended one of the clerks. He was a large black guy name of Roscoe. He was far more articulate and educated then I would have expected for a guy working in that business. He was an easy guy to talk to and I often found myself laughing out loud at the stories he told of some of the odder patrons. He also titillated me with stories of some of the women that occasionally showed up.

Replaying Debts

I stopped by my brother Will’s apartment to return some money that he’d lent me. On my way there I ran into one of his roommates, David I think, on his way out with a group of people. He said that Will was at work right now, but I could either wait in the apartment or just leave the money. I wanted to be sure that the money made it into Will’s hands, so I opted to wait. David said that Paul would let me in and hurried off with his friends.

I rang the doorbell and Paul let me in. I had to make a conscious effort to keep my jaw from dropping at the sight of Paul. He had obviously been working out because he was dressed in a muscle shirt and shorts. His body glistened with sweat. I had had no idea that he was so well built. I had only met Paul a couple of time before and he was always in sweats.

I asked Paul, “Do you mind if I wait for Will to get home from work?”

“Not at all. I could use a break.”

“Don’t stop on my account. You don’t need to keep me company, I’m a big girl. Besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin your workout.”

“I don’t mind. I was almost done anyway. Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

My eyes follow Paul out of the room. When he is out of sight I have to take a deep breath. I am starting to have a wonderful idea of how to kill time waiting for Will.

I take off my jacket and look down at my outfit. I am very glad that I was wearing the button-down shirt and tight jeans which showed off my legs nicely. I undid another button, revealing the tops of my breasts. I sat down on the couch and waited for Paul to return with my drink.

When he returned Paul was wearing his usual sweats again, much to my disappointment. I comforted myself with the thought that soon he would be wearing even less than what I had seen a few minutes ago. He handed me a beer and sat down on a chair across from me.

We start off with small talk. Polite ‘getting to know you better’ conversation. Before too long I bring up the ever important question, does he have a girlfriend…

“Not at the moment,” he replies in a disheartening tone. “My girlfriend dumped me a few weeks ago.”

‘Yes, I can play the sympathy card,’ I think to myself, but to him I say, “I’m sorry to hear that. It is her loss. She has obviously made a huge mistake. What girl wouldn’t want you?”

Substitute Seduction

From the moment Gina strutted into the classroom, I knew she would be trouble. I also knew I had to have her.

As it happened, the day I met Gina was my very first day as a substitute teacher. I was to be teaching at St. Vincent’s, which was an all-girls Catholic school. I had been warned that the girls there were famous for being incorrigible teases, who made it their job to create as much sexual tension as possible for any male substitute who was unfortunate enough to be assigned to them. The school had made an effort to correct the situation by hiring only female substitute teachers, but what they didn’t know was that I was bisexual. Not only that, but I have a serious schoolgirl fetish; I love the way they manage to exude such raw sexuality through supposedly demure and proper outfits.

I believe that whoever designed the look of their uniforms was most certainly male. I love the way their crisp, white blouses cling to the curves of their young, perky breasts, and how the bolder temptresses constantly hike up their skirts to reveal more and more of their sexy, smooth legs. And those thigh-highs! I love the contrast between the top of the stocking and the emerging thigh, which provides an enticing clue to what lies just above.

On this particular day, I was dressed in my most “no nonsense” uniform- a perfectly pressed white blouse, black pencil skirt which ended just above my knees, and a pair of low-heeled shoes. My long, wavy brown hair was pulled back into a polished up do, and I wore only the slightest bit of makeup; jet-black eyeliner to make my gray eyes stand out, a touch of blush to give my cheeks slight color, and pale pink lipstick. I decided against wearing any perfume, and had instead rubbed a feminine rose-scented lotion into my skin after my shower that morning.

As I breezed into the classroom with my black briefcase tucked under my arm, I thought I was ready for anything. I was determined to be entirely professional, as I didn’t want to risk losing my newly-acquired job, especially on my very first day! I knew this would take a great deal of self control, however, because I was assigned to a classroom of girls who were in their last year, i.e. 18 and completely legal. I had to resist temptation.

“Good morning girls, my name is Miss Kay,” I announced, surveying the classroom. I immediately noticed that there was an empty seat. Just as I was about to ask who was missing, an attractive young girl flounced into the room, sat down heavily in her seat, and gave me in haughty look, arms folded across her chest, as if daring me to reprimand her. I rose to the challenge.

“And your name is…?” I asked.


“Gina, please go to the office and get a late slip.”

“But I’m not late!” she protested, rising from her desk and placing her hands firmly on her hips. There were muffled whispers around the room as the rest of the girls undoubtedly wondered how I was going to handle the unruly student.

“All right then” I countered, “Instead of going to the office and getting a late slip, you can stay for detention with me after school for being late AND giving me attitude.”

The room was silent as the girls eagerly waited for a response. I had put on a fearless face, but I was quaking inside. Not only was this girl unwavering in her effort to challenge my authority, she was absolutely stunning.

The Ride Home

I guess I should start out by first describing myself since that seems the way these stories start off. My name is Denise, I’m a 19 year-old enjoying my summer vacation after my freshman year at Princeton. I’m 5’4″ 120 lbs 34B-25-36 with dark hair and brown eyes and of Italian descent. I have olive skin that gets golden in the summer time. I’ve been told that I am pretty and I generally have no problems getting a date. I lost my virginity in October and had one other lover at school this year. So that’s my personal data.

This summer for graduation, my dad arranged a trip to Greece with him and his fiancée and myself. I knew it was his attempt to get me and Cindy to get along. I didn’t like her at first. Of course, I was like most children of divorced parents who had the fantasy that mom and dad would get back together some day. My dad is a big time attorney and as usual, he cancelled out at the last minute because of an important client who got arrested. He said he would try to join us, but that never happened.

The other reason I didn’t like Cindy was she was only 30 and I figured she was a gold digger after dads money. My dad is a very handsome man but he’s 56, what could they possibly have in common. The other strike against her was she was gorgeous. Dad met her while he was in Vegas, she was a showgirl or something. Cindy was the typical blonde bombshell, pretty face awesome body and 36DD breasts which I saw along with a few hundred Greeks while we were away. She dragged me to a nude beach and although we only went topless, all eyes were on Cindy. It was like I didn’t exist when I was around her.

Worst of all, after being in Greece with her for a week or so I realized that she was pretty cool and that I really liked her. Once that hill was crossed, we had a great time and it didn’t matter that dad never joined us. The fact is, I developed a crush on Cindy while we were away. I had a strange attraction towards one of my roommates at school but I didn’t dare act on it, so the tingly feeling I got when I saw her topless at the beach and after that I saw her walk around the hotel suite barely dressed after showering was nothing new to me.

She was like hanging out with one of my roommates. We chatted up a storm and we talked about boys and one night she made a confession to me that drove me crazy and still does. When I asked her what attracted her to my dad she asked me if I really wanted to know. We had shared a bottle of wine at dinner and I was feeling quite tipsy but I still was taken off guard by her answer. She said when she was on her first date with dad, they were slow dancing and she felt a rather impressive lump in his slacks. “Dad’s got a big one?” I asked gasping. I had never thought about him that way.

Meet In The Real World

Chet nervously looked at his watch for the third time in the last five minutes. What in the hell had gotten into him, was he out of his mind?!? Meeting a woman in person he has been having an on line relationship with–totally nuts! Here he was, 33 years old, a good job, married to a beautiful woman, two small children, a whole lot to lose, and he could throw it all away because he was thinking with his dick! Unbelievable!! He’d heard the stories of meetings of this type going disastrously wrong, with some even ending up in murder, and just because most of the victims were women didn’t make him feel a whole lot better! After looking at his watch again he mumbled, “Christ boy, relax, it’s just a drink with a new acquaintance, no problem!!”

At exactly five thirty a tall chestnut haired woman strode through the door and scanned the bar. The white rose on her lapel was the signal to let him know who she was, but he didn’t even need it. He could tell it was her by the description she had given him on the chat line. One worry taken care of, she wasn’t a liar, she was even prettier than she had described herself, being tall and slim of frame, a very ample chest, even if it was hidden underneath a tailored business jacket. Chet hopped up from his chair and approached her with hand extended, “Hi,” he said, “I’m Chet Lane, and you must be Veronica!” Her smile was breath taking, and she took his hand and shook it with a firm grip, never taking her eyes off of his while intoning in a smooth sultry voice, “It’s so nice to meet you Chet, shall we sit down!?!”

Taking her by the arm, Chet lead her to the booth he had reserved at the rear of the bar, and after they had slid into opposite sides of the table and just looked at each other for a few seconds, Veronica said, “You look even better than I thought you would, I hope I am up to your expectations!” “Very much so,” he replied, “more beautiful than I could have imagined, would you like a drink?” “A Rhine wine would be nice,” she said, “I’m a little bit nervous!” “Your nervous,” he thought, “I’m a total wreck!” Chet ordered a couple of drinks and then sat in silence until the waitress brought their order. After paying the check, each of them took a sip from their glasses, and Chet offered, “I’ve never met anyone from the internet before, this is kinda new to me.” “Me too,” she replied, “I almost backed out at the last minute, but figured we would be in a public place, so why not?” They both chuckled, took another drink, and Chet asked, “Well, are you glad you decided to give it a shot?” She nodded the affirmative, and Chet offered, “Me too, more than glad, you look absolutely fabulous, much better than your description!” “Well thank you, kind sir,” she replied, “I am more than impressed with you too, I was praying that you wouldn’t be the proverbial frog!” Again they both laughed, getting more and more comfortable in each other’s presence. Looking at her, Chet could feel the electricity between them as he then broached the question, “Well, how do you feel, I mean about us, you know, do you need more time, another meeting maybe, you know to get comfortable?” “I’m very comfortable right now,” she answered quickly, “I don’t need another date to confirm what I already feel!” Chet picked up his drink, swallowed the last of it, dropped a five dollar tip on the table, stood up and said, “Me too, let’s go!”

Red Cowboy Boots

Christy peered into her closet trying to decide on which outfit to wear for her usual Saturday night outing, and since being from Ft. Worth, Texas, her destination was sure to be one of the many cowboy bars that dotted the Metroplex landscape. She finally decided on a long country style dress that was low cut on top, yet loose enough to allow her freedom of movement on the dance floor. She lay the garment on her bed and sat down in front of her vanity mirror to brush her long blonde hair. There was no mistaking it, Christy had a stunning body! Long slim legs, flat tummy, a full yet tight ass, large red nippled breasts, and a pretty if not beautiful face.

As the brush pulled through her tresses, her boobs jiggled back and forth, causing her nipples to become erect. Christy had to admit she was a male magnet of the nth degree. Her pussy was already damp, and having a smooth shaved crotch seemed to only heighten her arousal. Christy was blessed with abnormally puffy vaginal lips, and lately it seemed that they were always bulging and wet with juice. “God,” she thought, “I hope I can get lucky tonight, it’s been almost a week.” After the fiftieth stroke of her brush, she got up and pulled her dress over her head and slipped it on. “No bra or panties tonight,” she said out loud, “no use having them in the way.” To top off her ensemble, she pulled on a pair of bright red cowboy boots, a red cowboy hat, and a red bandanna around her neck, and after one last look in the mirror, she was out the door and on her way.

The Jagged Horseshoe was packed as usual, with almost everyone dressed as a cowboy or cowgir, and even though most of them were city cowboys, they really tried to look and act the part of a real cowhand. The tell tale give away that most of them were city slickers was the amount of white wine that was consumed, not a whole lot of beer and shots in this place! Christy wandered over to the bar and ordered a margarita, while over in the far corner the mechanical bull was in the process of bucking off another “cowboy”. Christy was watching the bull riding when up behind her she felt two large hands on her hips and a hard cock pushing against her ass, and while her natural inclination was to pull away, in the crush of bodies around them, she was powerless to move in any direction, so she tensed her body, not sure of what would happen next.

She felt a hot breath on her shoulder, and then a soft male voice in her ear said, “I’ve been watching you from the moment you came in the bar, you don’t know how much you turn me on!” He continued on, “I’m as hard as blue steel, and I’ll do anything to stick it into your hot pussy, and I can see that you’re not wearing a bra, and I can feel that you’re not wearing any panties!” “I just want you to know that I’m no pervert, and I’m not bad looking either, so if you want me to leave just lean forward and I’ll be on my way, if not, and you’re as hot as I am, push back against me now.” Christy’s head was spinning, totally taken by surprise by this “rear” assault, but the only problem was that it also totally turned her on–big time, so she helplessly sagged back into her anonymous admirer, feeling more of his body press against her own.

Mile High Club

Trent Boyd hefted his small attache’ case into the over head compartment and sat down in the aisle seat and waited for the 737 to take off. Leaving the bone chilling cold of Detroit to spend a long weekend in New Orleans was enough to bring a smile to the face of any seasoned traveler! One stop over in Memphis, and it would be good by Woodward Ave. and hello Bourbon Street! This would be Trent’s sixth visit to the Crescent City and it was definitely his favorite destination, with all the food, booze and women to be had! His day dream was abruptly interrupted, however, when he chanced to see an absolutely stunning black haired beauty dragging an over night bag down the aisle, obviously looking for her seat. Every male eye in the plane followed her every step, the result of which was a slight jiggling of her oversized chest underneath her skin tight sweater! To Trent’s utter delight, she stopped at his row, rechecked her ticket stub, and hoisted her bag into the over head, and slipped past him into the window seat next to his. Usually in cases like this, Trent’s usual experience would have been that this lovely creature would turn out to be an ice queen, but to his happy dismay, she stuck out her hand and said, “I’m Sonja, Sonja Fletcher!” He took her hand, and replied, “Trent Boyd’s the name, glad to meet you, New Orleans or Memphis!?!”

“Memphis,” she answered, “born and raised there, going home to visit the folks.” “That’s nice,” he replied, “I’m going on to New Orleans myself, a long weekend getaway!” Just then the no smoking and seat belt lights came on, and a flight attendant announced that they would be taking off in about two minutes. “I guess we had better get ready,” Sonja said, while reaching for her seat belt. “Yeah,” replied Trent, “if we go down we better be belted in, for all the good it would do.” “Please don’t say that, I’m scared to death of flying,” she said in a nervous voice, “joking about it just makes it worse for me!” At first Trent thought she may have been joking, but the look on her face told him that she really was terrified of flying! “I’m sorry, Sonja,” he said soothingly, “you’re right, it was a bad joke, here, let me hold your hand during take off, it will make you feel better!” Gripping his hand like a steel vice, Sonja was obviously glad to have someone to hold onto, and Trent was a little taken back when she held his hand to her chest while waiting for the plane to take off.

“My god,” he thought, “her boobs are incredible,” even if he was getting a somewhat limited feel through her tight sweater. “I’m sorry I’m holding on so tight, but I really am frightened,” she offered! While trying to maneuver his fingers for a better feel, he replied back, “Oh, that’s all right, if it makes you feel better, it’s all right with me.” Soon the jet was taxiing out to the runway, and Sonja’s breathing became shallow and intermittent, a sure sign of hyperventilation. Deciding to take a real chance, Trent turned a little to face her, and reached his right hand over and held her leg, six inches or so above her knee. Acting as if he were just trying to protect her, he held her close, while all the time enjoying the sensation of having one hand buried in her huge chest, and the other one on the inside of her smooth bare thigh! “Hold on,” he whispered into her ear, “here we go,” as the plane hurtled down the runway, gaining speed with each passing second. Sonja held on to Trent even harder, as she closed her eyes, hoping that they would get air born as quickly as possible while Trent let his hand slide a little farther up her thigh, until it was actually under the hem of her dress!

Blond In Asia

As Marla wiggled her ass in the face of the half drunken Japanese businessman he reached out and slipped his hand between her legs and ran a finger along her g-string covered crack. After the quick feel, he stuck a thousand yen into her waist band and called out to the waitress for another drink. It was almost ten o’clock in the evening, and still the company men, as they are called in Japan, were drinking and carousing with there business associates. It was said that sake and geisha girls was the oil that kept Japan’s corporate structure lubricated. Well, Marla didn’t know about the business structure, but all of the executives in the Ty Ling bar were definitely “lubricated”!

Being blonde and from America was a big draw to Japanese males, probably because of the homogeneous society that was modern Japan. Since 99.9% of the residents were Japanese, there wasn’t a whole lot of variety as far as appearance was concerned, so being blonde and in Japan definitely made you an outsider, and Japanese men couldn’t seem to get enough of the American women! While corporate America complained about closed trade markets, one look at the Japanese lifestyle told an entirely different story. The Japanese wore American clothes, watched American movies, ate at American fast food restaurants, and listened to American rock music. Walking down Tokyo’s busy Ginza district, and you would have thought you were in Times Square with all the American logos burning in bright neon lights. Marla was just another American icon to be bought and sold, only her commodity was her very supple and sensuous twenty four year old body. Like she said to her American compatriots, “We’re just doing our part to help balance the trade deficit !”

Marla had answered and ad in the New York New about fabulous money to be made in the Far East, and going for an interview, she found out that while not very glamorous, working the bars and night clubs of Tokyo and Osaka could earn a pretty blonde girl five thousand dollars a week! The hours would be long, but the rewards great for someone with a little ambition. Marla was at the time working a legal secretary making seven hundred dollars a week, a salary that barely made ends meet in New York City, so a week later she was on a plane to Tokyo, getting ready to start a brand new career. She found out right away that you could indeed make five grand a week, but to do it, you had to let the free handed businessmen touch you in very intimate places, and while not a prude, it took her several weeks to become accustomed to the pawing and leering that she had to endure while dancing at the club. In her third week, Marla got her first proposal to make some real money. A young executive wanted to take her to a hotel and make love to her. He seemed like a likable sort, and he wasn’t drunk like most of the other men in bar that night, so she made arrangements to meet him in the hotel bar after her shift was over.

Like most Japanese men, Ken, that was the name he gave her, was short and lean. He was waiting in the bar for her, and together they rode the elevator up to a room he had previously taken. He helped her with her coat, and then ran his hands up and down the sides of her body, pausing to feel the swell of her hips. She turned away from him and asked him, “Be a doll, hon, and help me with my zipper!” With a steady hand he pulled it down, kissing her on her bare shoulder, and sliding the sequined garment to the floor. He carefully unhooked her bra and it too slipped off her body, exposing her 34D chest to the evening air. Her nipples immediately became erect as Ken reached around her and cupped them in his hands. Most Japanese men were pushy and rough with their woman, but Ken had a gentle touch that was starting to turn Marla on. She turned around to face him, giving him a straight on look at her magnificent chest, and while lifting his hands back to her boobs she asked softly, “Do you like them, Ken?” He nodded in the affirmative, and said, “American girls have much bigger breasts than Japanese women, I like them very much.”