Much of the world maintains an active and ever growing curiosity concerning the exploits of the thrill-seeking body of people succinctly termed "The Jet Set".
Activities concerning "The Jet Set" grace the covers of news and movie tabloids around the globe, while numerous books, both fiction and non-fiction, and scores of motion pictures are also devoted to them.
One of the likely reasons why so much concern revolves around them is that they are the doers of society, having the opportunity to do conceivably anything that strikes their fancy, while most people, caught in the restrictive vortex of their own lives, only dream of doing such wide and varied things.
"I've probably done all that there is to be done at least twice," a sun-tanned young man who looks considerably younger than his thirty-eight years confided to me poolside at one of the world's plushest resorts. "People are concerned about what I do and I've been written up many times. Why? Because I'm an experimenter. I'm not afraid to wear things, do things, that convention-ridden elements of society would never think of doing. That is, until they see somebody like me doing these things first. Then things change swiftly and dramatically. It makes me laugh the way I start out as the weirdo non-conformist, only to have my skeptics eventually fall into line."
One of the areas in which "The Jet Set" has blazed its most consequential trails is that of sex, in which they have followed the kind of "tell and do it like it is" pattern that the aforementioned young man alluded to with me.
While in the midst of experimenting with sex, they very often are disposed toward trying what most of society would consider verboten. Extensive wife swapping, for instance, is one area of pleasure they have popularized, to the extent that now many other people who would never have given thought to such activities, much less to participate in them, have ultimately fallen into line.
A relatively new development occurring among many in "The Jet Set" is the act of incestuous love. Not that incest is anything new to the world, for it isn't. But the manner in which "The Jet Set" is practicing it creates fresh dimensions.
Whereas incest traditionally is something kept very much in secret amongst the participants, such is not the case with ever expanding numbers of "The Jet Set", who regard secretiveness as something cowardly.
"If I want to make love to somebody, whether it's somebody I'm related to or somebody of my own sex or somebody of the opposite sex, I'm gonna be proud of it," a winsome, oft-married woman in her middle thirties related to me. "If certain levels of society are just too damned prudish to understand my feelings then that's just too bad. I do what I want to do, I answer to my feelings, I remain creatively alive, and if somebody doesn't like certain things I do then that's just tough, because I truly couldn't care less."
The main point observable in the woman's remark is that she existed totally apart from guilt, which is the foremost trademark of "The Jet Set", who consider themselves leaders rather than followers.
In the five ensuing documented case histories we will explore the colorful people of "The Jet Set" engaged in incestuous romance. Through these provocative interview sessions the reader will gain greater insight into the lives of these colorful, never dull people.
The cases were selected from a lengthy backlog of interviews with scores of people. They were selected for their uniqueness and the educational impact their stories are designed to have upon the reader searching out answers.
CHAPTER ONE
Valerie R. could be termed as a girl who has just about everything. The fingers of both hands were studded with sparkling diamond rings, while the coat she wore was the most expensive mink around.
In addition to having endless material possessions, Valerie has also been selected among the world's most beautiful women on four separate occasions. She possesses a regal beauty all her own, with long, flowing black hair, violet eyes, long lashes that, when they blink a certain way, can and have brought numerous males helplessly to her knees, and a flawless peaches and cream complexion. As for her bodily endowments, she possesses what amounts more to a willowy grace than the kind of sensuousness one associates with topless dancers. But with Valerie her form fits perfectly into place. She reminds you of someone sleek and trim, like the lines of an expensive imported car, than somebody whose breasts would pop out at men on street corners.
Along with her aforementioned assets, which are considerable, she also possesses a brilliant mind, which has endured her to some of the most distinguished and wealthiest men in the world.
She accepts her attention casually, as if she was destined from the very beginning to live the kind of life she does.
Valerie's fascinating story, as related to me on my tape recorder, follows herein: I'm one of these girls you've heard about who was born with a gold spoon in her mouth. I guess you'd have to say that Dad was a genius and much of it, fortunately, rubbed off on me.
The first brilliant move that Dad made, before I was born, of course, was to marry Mom, who graduated from college first in her class with a business major and economic minor. When it came to business judgment she knew more than any woman I've ever met, and most men as well.
Dad was a brilliant New York physician who worked hard, determined to make that hard-earned medical degree he took at John Hopkins pay sizable dividends. With Mom's help he made it boom beyond anything he had ever dreamed of.
Just before I came along, on Mom's advice, Dad invested heavily in Texas oil. Mom read the Wall Street Journal carefully every day, while Dad was at the hospital performing operations, and her lessons proved valuable. You see, she had some relatives in Texas who had invested in oil, and in long telephone conversations with her they kept her apprised of everything that went on.
Mom had a lengthy conversation with Dad one evening when he came home tired. She explained to him the pecuniary facts of life, informing him that his opportunities were limited concerning how much he could make with his own hands, and that the great fortunes of the world were amassed by men who possessed the ingenuity to parlay the money they made through their own efforts into considerably more.
Mom argued convincingly, and let me tell you, when she argued with you, you sat up and took notice, since she was usually always right, but, anyway, she argued so persuasively that Dad finally agreed to invest a large percentage of his earnings in Texas oil.
This all happened just before I came along. And it's now perfectly understandable why I was born with a golden spoon in my mouth. Thanks to Mom's investment acumen the gushers started pouring in.
By the time I was born Mom and Dad had moved into a palatial townhouse some three blocks from Central Park and we were rolling in money. Dad slacked off in his practice, since he had so many pressing business responsibilities, opened his own office to take care of such matters, and plunged himself rigorously in investments. He played the stock market intelligently, taking Mom's advice heavily, and we were rolling in money.
Mom and Dad didn't want a big family, so after I was born they laid off the baby making routine until some twelve years after I was born, at which time my little sister Gail was born.
About the time Gail started elementary school I went away to Vassar. I wasn't really all that keen about school, but made the most of it, graduating with honors in English. At that time I had thought about becoming a writer, and I still think about it, but so far I haven't gotten any further than that. I've been too busy doing other things to find the time to concentrate.
I know about what you're thinking right now. You're wondering what some of these other things are that I just mentioned. Well, I'm sure you want to get down to the nitty-gritty by now and discuss my views toward sex, which I'm more than happy to do.
I met a lot of stuffy young wolves in college from all the prominent Ivy League. Since I've always been rich and beautiful you can imagine the kind of rush act I was subjected to at school by these guys. But I couldn't stand them. I like self-made men, which these guys weren't. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't even distinguish most of them by referring to them as men at all. I'd classify them for the most part as snotnosed little mommy's boys who'd been spoiled rotten.
That doesn't mean I was a cherry during my four years at Vassar, though. I fell deeply in love with one of my professors, a guy who taught a survey course on American writers. Two things turned me on about him. One was his self-assured air, and the other was his brilliance. Also, he wasn't the least bit bad looking.
He was a married man in his early thirties when I met him, and I was the one who coaxed him into paying attention to me. I dreamed up every excuse under the sun in the beginning to stay after school and talk to him.
One day he finally succumbed to my charms, as they all seem to do in the final analysis. I know it probably sounds like bragging, and perhaps it is, but all I'm doing is facing facts because that's the way it has always been and probably always will be. Even if I finally start losing my looks some day I've always got my money.
The professor, Harry was his name, and a real doll all the way, suggested the day that I really turned him on that we meet at a motel in town for our dalliance.
We did and had an absolute blast. Following a long series of French kisses, which worked us all the more into the mood, he slipped his hot shaft inside me and began pushing forward spiritedly.
I still had my cherry at that point, fighting off the advances of scores of men along with the young punks I mentioned previously, and had been planning to save it for somebody like Harry. I had always told myself that the first man to penetrate my blossomy vagina with his rod would be a handsome genius, which Harry certainly qualified as. I also figured that the first man to make it with me would be rich. Though I proved wrong on that score, I was willing to overlook that qualification, since Harry had fared so convincingly well on the other two points.
He also fared convincingly as a lovemaker, as I knew he would. He was the intelligent sensitive type, which I would prefer any day of the week to the crude chest-beating Tarzan.
Harry rocked his body superbly, varying his pace, pushing his penis into me briskly for several strokes, then controlling his actions by slowing things down so that he wouldn't orgasm prematurely. As a sexy man who enjoyed wholesome sex release, he wanted to see to it that he derived every possible benefit from his orgasm.
Sure, those first few strokes hurt, and the blood splattered from where he had punctured my cherry, but that didn't alarm me one bit. I'd read many books on the subject of sex with the female, and was perfectly prepared for everything that happened.
He drove his prick into my tight snatch, continuing to form a wedge with his brilliant movements as he pushed himself ever closer to the big moment of orgasm.
Harry cupped his fingers resolutely around my breasts, squeezing the taut nipples gently yet firmly, as he continued penetrating my pink-walled vagina with his pecker.
As he shoved himself into the final throes of orgasmic release he planted his tongue fervently inside my mouth. As our tongues splashed our bodies hurled together forcefully as we both neared orgasm.
As I felt the warm wet load of semen released from his hard dong and into my waiting nest, my own explosion occurred simultaneously. I had met his successful charge with one of my own.
Harry gasped and sighed as his pent-up storage load was released in a flowing sea of white.
Things were still for the next few minutes, with Harry working back into the passion of late afternoon by kissing my earlobes gently. Once he sufficiently caught his breath enough to where he wanted to resume activities, he parted my legs gently with his fingers and dropped his head downward between my legs.
His smooth, passionate lips pressed against my pussy lips resoundingly. He kissed them deliciously as my whole body came alive once more with a brisk sense of resurgence. Once more I was the same excited little girl I had been when he was undressing me and kissing my breasts, preparing me for the great times that lay ahead.
Several explosive vagina kisses later I was moist with excitement and my body was spasming noticeably, awaiting more developments. Now it was his tongue which was suddenly driving itself with accelerated eagerness between my legs, driving fervently over my vagina.
"Oh, I want you," I gasped, "suck that cunt, I want it, I want it, I want it bad, keep it up, suck, suck, suck."
His fingers squeezed my pliant buttocks cheeks as his tongue attacked resourcefully, driving me zealously toward climax.
As he stepped up his pace, moving forward with ever heightening swiftness, my furry triangle, moist from the adventure he had planted inside it with his cock stabs, kisses, and passionate sucks, felt like a burning bush.
His diligent tongue massages were pushing me ever closer toward that climatic moment. And the closer I drew the faster he sucked. The anticipation accelerated with every stab as my entire body was swept away in a blazing passion of sucking excitement.
"Oh, I'm closer, I'm close, I'm as close as you can get," I gasped. "I'm gonna shoot in your mouth, keep on sucking, I'm just about there, oh."
My triangle thereupon burst and he collected my load with diligent enthusiasm, sucking my vaginal walls dry as my legs trembled.
Such ended my first exciting afternoon of lovemaking. Even though we both wanted to stay longer, and Harry confided that he would have liked nothing better than spending the entire night in my presence, making love until we fell asleep from exhaustion, he told me he had to get back to his family. He was fearful of his wife's suspicions, and knew what a calculated risk he was taking by having an affair with one of his students. But his desire to make love to me overrode his fears.
You know, by playing it very discreetly, Harry and I kept up our affair during my entire four years at school. We made certain to space out our lovemaking intervals, as well as the places in which we enjoyed them. That way we lessened the likelihood of getting caught in an embarrassing situation.
Once I graduated from college I was faced with the highly unpleasant task of saying goodbye to the man I loved. He made it crystal clear to me at the very outset of our relationship that he would be sticking by his wife and kids, and under no circumstances would consider leaving them for me, as much as he loved me.
"I've made a commitment and I'm going to stick by it," was the way that he put it.
You know, that was one of the things I admired about him the most. Even though he was so powerfully drawn to me that he would engage in a four year affair with me while I was going to school, he wasn't about to forsake his wife and kids.
We had sex one last time at a tiny motel several miles away from school the day after graduation. Once more that brisk, diligent, effective penis that had brought me so many thrills during the past four years was shining like a beacon.
He worked his rapier-like spear in and out of me while my body twisted enthusiastically with his every movement. It was hard to face the prospect of losing him in that we communicated in bed so well. We were so sensitively attuned to each other's movements that we were like two mind readers in the act of spirited intercourse.
Finally we cried and said good-bye, parting with a tender kiss that would have to last both of us forever.
Then I went home, where Mom, Dad, and Gail were preparing a lengthy European vacation that would last during most of the summer. I liked to travel and looked forward to the trip with great interest.
Since my folks were never far off, didn't succumb to the charms of the many men who tried to flirt with me. Dad had a theory about romances for me. It was that, unless the guy was at a certain pecuniary and social station,- it would be a bad risk for me to get involved with him, what with my wealthy social and financial position.
We came back to New York refreshed. I wondered what I ought to do with my life at that point. I thought about writing a book but knew, in the final analysis, that I didn't possess the necessary degree of patience and perseverance to do the job at that point. Maybe later but not then. As of then I had a passionate flair for living.
Some two weeks after we returned my father announced that he had to take a trip to Texas to personally look after his oil investments. He made several such trips during the course of every year.
We took two huge suites at the Shamrock-Hilton Hotel in Houston. I traveled alone with Dad, as Mom and Gail stayed home behind us. During the flight to Houston he spoke with me about finding the right kind of man to get interested in.
"You could very easily find the right kind of guy around Houston," he smiled. "There are all kinds of eligible young men just rolling in their own oil. Keep your eyes open."
His suite was two floors removed from mine, which meant that I could maneuver to the extent I wanted to.
Our second night in Houston we stopped at the Playboy Club for dinner and drinks. At one point, as Dad conversed with oil friends, and as I sat there trying to pretend I was interested in what they were saying when, in reality, I was bored, he called over a broad-shouldered, handsome, sandy-haired young man in a dark brown suit. He had a drink in one hand and wore a white ten gallon hat on his head.
He looked like he might be a little on the crude side, but was interesting nonetheless. I was glad Dad was calling him over and hoped that I would be introduced.
It turned out that what Dad had had in mind was introducing us in the first place. His name was Bart and he bowed graciously after Dad formally introduced us, kissing my hand.
"Would you care to dance, Valerie?" he asked after we had talked for a few brief minutes and the band was striking up.
"I'd love to," I smiled.
I don't know what was getting into me, but I felt those same hungry pangs of itchy desire between my legs that had been there in such great abundance with Harry.
The thing that really surprised me was that Bart was anything but the kind of guy it usually took to cause me to react in such a way. As I've told you before, I've got a lot to offer a man and know it. Consequently the man has got to have a lot to offer me as well. I like a guy with a lot of sophistication and sensitivity, like my friend Harry was, even though he wasn't rich.
Bart was kind of like the rough tough cowboy with a heart of gold. But there was something boyish and charming about him, like he was the kind a girl could expect to mother, but would have herself a ball while she was doing it.
He was anything but a spectacular dancer, being a little on the clumsy side, but strangely enough that didn't bother me either. And through it all a torrid flaming heat of passion surfaced between my legs with every passing moment.
I started thinking to myself what he would look like naked. Those broad shoulders would look nice stripped, and he had a body both powerful and supple. Yes, he would be appealing in the buff, I concluded.
We danced and talked until my father suggested that we leave. But before we did Bart asked if he might call on me for lunch the following noon. I suggested and was a little burned up at Dad for suggesting that we leave at that particular interval.
As we got into the cab and started back to the hotel, after bidding Bart and the rest of the men goodnight, I expressed my displeasure to Dad for pulling me away from Bart.
"First you were proudly introducing me to him," I pointed out. "Then after I've gotten acquainted with him and have learned to like him a little you pull me away. I just don't get it."
"You foolish girl," my old man laughed at me like I was some tiny little infant. "You haven't learned to understand the subtle little nuances of romance yet. I guess you've been too cloistered in books, airplanes, and yachts to learn to make some distinctions. I want young Bart to know that you're not the kind of girl who will just take up with him with no strings attached. I wanted to make the introduction to see if he would exhibit an interest. Naturally with your overpowering beauty he did exhibit such an interest, which was certainly of no surprise to me. But there's a right way and a wrong way to snare the right kind of man, somebody like Bart who is in demand all over the country with offers from the most beautiful of women, and I had to be careful that made the right approach. Well, we did and he's interested. And he also knows that you'll be anything but a pushover."
"I guess I can't argue with you," I laughed, embarrassed that I had come on angrily. The old man definitely had some smarts, and not all of them came from Mom.
"Do you know who Bart is?" he asked with a knowing smile.
"I suppose he's mixed up in oil," I shrugged.
"Oil and cattle. His father died three months ago, leaving young Bart as one of the richest men in the world."
I gulped so hard that I almost spat out my Adam's Apple. Dad wasn't kidding when he told me that I should set my sights only on the most eligible of men.
Lunch went smoothly the following afternoon. After we finished eating he ordered beer for himself, while I ordered martinis. He held his drinks well, while, although I hate to admit it, I actually got a little on the tipsy side, whereupon I began coasting.
He went back to my suite with him and I asked him in, intending to fix coffee for both of us to bring us out of our semi-haze induced by boozing it.
As I started to pour the coffee hot he looked at me with a powerful sense of admiration. His eyes were a deep liquid blue, and when they caught you in the right light, such as then, they could have an hypnotic effect.
The martinis coupled with his boyishly dynamic presence caused me to become starry-eyed. As I got set to pour him a cup of black coffee he walked over to me and threw his strong arms around me.
I melted like butter in them, and next thing I knew my arms were trembling with anxiety as he pressed his lips solidly against mine. No sooner did he break our kiss than I plodded forward, puckered my lips as convincingly as I knew how, and delivered a smoldering kiss against his.
"Oh, baby, I was sold on you that first second that your poppa introduced us," he sighed.
Following several more brisk rounds of quick lip kisses, he worked his tongue inside my mouth eagerly, letting our tongues splash together with conviction.
After he broke our kiss he threw his arm around me protectively and led me into the bedroom. I had been planning on playing it cooler than that, in the way that my father had suggested, toying with him and getting his hot Texas balls in an uproar before finally succumbing, and only then under my terms.
But even the most carefully laid plans have to be scrapped when your heart takes over for your brains. And that was precisely what was happening right then and there.
He took my clothes off quickly while he panted like a steam engine, anxious to get things rolling in the hay. He didn't have Harry's smooth sophistication when it came to removing my clothes, or when it came to the subtleties of lovemaking, but he had a fumbling boyishness about him that made him highly appealing. And, of course, there were his millions, which didn't dampen my enthusiasm either.
Once he succeeded in getting my clothes off he addressed himself to the task of removing his own, which he did in swifter time than it took him to remove mine.
I got my first look at the body I had longed to see nude. It was just as I had anticipated it would be, muscular and supple, ready for all the action it could absorb.
He charged forward at full speed, not wasting anymore time on preliminaries, eager to get to the main event, that being the moment at which his long dick went to work inside my snatch.
My red moist vaginal walls trembled with a sense of eagerness as he drove his cock into me for the first time. It was long and swollen with excitement, ever eager to dispel itself inside me.
With piston-like effectiveness his driving rod thrust into me, proceeding with such force that the bed rocked and my body swayed in every conceivable direction.
The first few massive forward strokes hurt me, but soon I reconciled myself to the blinding pace he was setting, and the quicker and more effectively he rifled his huge spear into me the more excited I became with all that was happening.
"Oh, I love that tightness," he gasped as his body pushed back and forth as he forged his cock into me. "So nice and tight. I just knew you'd be a great fuck and you're even better than I imagined possible."
His glittering testimonial made me feel all the better, and gave me that much more desire to please him, to see that every ounce of pleasure was drained out of him before he distilled his juices inside my waiting snatch.
He cupped his fingers around my buttocks cheeks, holding them firmly in place as his cock continued stabbing me with blinding speed as the bed springs rocked. He delivered so much propulsive force in his movements that his balls would scrape along the edge of my ass from the force of his body rocking.
As he drew ever closer to the moment of explosion, he began sputtering more noticeably and his face reddened. He tightened his lips with grave concern as he devoted himself to every powerful thrust into my sizzling pussy, which was getting ready to explode itself.
The sweat began to creep down both sides of Bart's face as he kept up his brutal assault on my vagina. Pretty soon he removed his clenched fingers from my buttocks and began delivering stinging openhanded slaps to my ass cheeks.
"You're my little doggie, and as good a fuck as there is alive, here in Texas or anywhere else," he chuckled.
He might have been having a blast delivering stiff slaps to my ass cheeks while his rapier cock continued stabbing my snatch with all he had. He apparently was confusing me with some of his cattle on a range, and I almost expected the moment to arrive wherein he would rope me like he would some bleating calf.
"Oh, this feels so good, oh, my cock, it's itching, oh, is it itching," he gasped as he accelerated his blinding clip. "I want that box, I want to explode in it, I wanna be your man, oh, so tight, oh, that ass, I love the way it moves around."
And in the meantime he continued delivering those ringing slaps to my ass, causing my buttocks cheeks to redden. He kept up that blinding pace that was carrying him rapidly toward orgasm.
"Oh, little doggie, I'm gonna shoot now, just get ready for that hot juice," he warned me with a gasp, "I'm gonna shoot it all into that cute cunt of yours."
As he announced his intention of imminently flooding my love nest with his white nectar, the impulsive itch inside me was growing more uncontrollable than ever.
Doggedly he continued persevering, continuing to take his openhanded slaps at my ass, while his prick continued rifling back and forth inside me. And the itch inside my box grew so unbearable that I knew release was on the way within seconds.
My legs spasmed and my whole body began to rock as I raised myself forward to meet his spirited fucking movements.
He stopped slapping me long enough to grab hold of my buttocks cheeks, clinging tighter than ever. At that same point he let out a lengthy prolonged sigh, which clued me in on what was about to occur.
"Oh, I'm gonna juice you, my prick's tickling," he gasped. "Now you're gonna get it. You're gonna get creamed."
As I felt that warmly inviting cum spurt from that long dagger-like cock and into my waiting joyhole the unbearable itchiness totally pervaded my body as my pussy juice deluged at the same point that his prick was dislodging itself of juice.
"Oh, we did it on target," he said triumphantly, smiling and laughing after all of his juice had been dispelled. "This is great. We really made it. We fucked like a couple of pros."
That was the start of a beautiful romance. I made sure, in spite of my early enthusiasm for Bart, that I kept a certain degree of discreet distance so that he wouldn't feel he could take advantage of me. In that regard Dad had been right.
I played things to strategic perfection, finally getting him to marry me. It felt great to be at a pinnacle of power less than one year after I had graduated from college.
For about two years things went fine in our marriage, but then we started running into some problems. For one thing, I'm a New Yorker and essentially a city girl, while Bart was very much the country boy who made good and was forced to spend long periods of time in tiny little Texas communities looking after all his financial interests.
Although he made it a point to shower me with all the material luxuries I could ever want, I started getting bored for New York, big city life, and jaunts to vacation retreats like Acapulco and San Juan.
Slowly but surely I recognized that we were drifting apart, not through either my fault or his, but through a sincere difference in life style. He needed somebody who fit more snugly into his kind of life, and I needed the same in my own case.
We finally decided to divorce, parting on good terms. To illustrate his point he amicably agreed to a fantastic settlement which left me with a small fortune and the freedom to go wherever and with whomever I pleased.
I decided I'd go to Europe to live for awhile. Since I'd had enough of country life I wanted to get back to the cosmopolitan world I had been brought up in. And, I'll also add, I was hoping to meet some interesting man to get interested in.
I wound up dividing most of my time between an apartment I maintained in Rome and the French Riviera, where I made a point to attend parties given in the in circles of international society.
One evening I was invited to attend a dinner party given at the home of one of the world's leading art dealers in the French Riviera. The royalty and wealth of the world rubbed elbows there.
At that point I met one of the most fascinating men I had ever had the privilege of meeting in my life. He was dressed immaculately in a dark blue suit and silver cuff links, whereas most of the men present were attired in tux and tails, even though such had not been formally required. He was in his late forties and had alert, steel-like grey eyes that immediately drew me to him. He had a long mane of white hair and clear golden skin tanned somewhat by the French sun.
"Who is that man?" I asked a girl friend of mine who was also present at the gala affair.
"Don't you know?" she looked at me as if I was crazy.
"No, but he definitely looks familiar. I've seen him somewhere."
"I should hope you have," she laughed. "He's had his picture and name plastered in magazines and his name plastered in newspapers all over."
Then she told me his name and I nodded instantly with recognition, feeling foolish that I hadn't recognized him right away. I'll just call him Alex since I don't want his actual name to get out. Anyhow, Alex, as I'll call him, was fresh from three triumphs on Broadway. A highly versatile talent, he had written one play, a three act comedy that was an immediate success, produced and directed another play, and directed and co-starred in yet a third. He had started out as a film actor, but had become disenchanted with the Hollywood phony cinematic meat market with which he was forced to associate, and had gone to New York virtually penniless, having struggled as a writer and director before finally hitting it big.
I recalled having seen him one evening at one of his plays, just after my divorce from Bart had become final and before I had departed for Europe.
He was a widower, I recalled, and some of the most interesting women in the world had wooed him. Now that he had hit it big on Broadway he was worth Jots of money, but probably not as much money as I was worth. But that didn't bother me. He intrigued me, bearing the stamp of a creative genius. And like I told you, it had always been my secret ambition to become a writer anyway.
Somehow I had to get to know him. I noticed scores of beautiful women young and middle-aged talking to him. Then he would gradually ease his way away from their presence and go off on his own. It didn't surprise me since I had learned from reading about him that he was a loner, which is anything but unusual for a highly creative person anyway.
I stood off by myself, ignoring a few flirtatious glances shot my way by several young men, concentrating instead on Alex.
At one point I watched him excuse himself from a group of people and walk over to the bar to obtain a refill. I decided it was time to make my move, so I wolfed down the remainder of my drink and walked over to the bar to get a refill of my own.
"Hello," he smiled as I walked past him.
"Good evening," I said, handing my glass to the bartender, who quickly refilled it.
"Would you care to take a walk in the patio, young lady?" he asked in a charming, resonant tone.
"I'd be happy to."
"I'll bet you don't even know who I am," he said as he took my hand and led me off, grinning widely.
"Should I?" I decided to test him, since by his expression I sensed that he wanted to retain a measure of anonymity.
"You bet you shouldn't. I've been running away from talkative young ladies all evening who have been boring me by asking me a lot of fool questions about myself."
We walked and he said very little. When he conversed it was always about something mundane, like the color of the sky or the brightness of the evening. But, ironically enough, when he said these things he gave them a style and a dignity that nobody else making the same statements could match.
About the time we got through with our drinks he looked at me and said softly: "You know, I'm getting bored with this whole stuffy affair. What do you say we leave?"
"But they'll be serving dinner soon."
"Oh, so what. I'll take you to dinner at a charming little restaurant a block from where I live. I'm getting tired of all these clattering females making over me like I'm somebody great. I'd prefer to preserve my tranquility."
I wouldn't have left under those circumstances with just anybody, but, then again, Alex wasn't just anybody. He was a fiercely independent genius who was fascinating me more just standing by my side and uttering an occasional word than any other man I had ever met could even by standing on his head with a hard-on.
We walked to a little sidewalk cafe that I had passed many times but had never thought of going inside of. A little man played an accordion in a sleepy darkened corner of the place, which looked for all intent and purpose like it was closed, even though it was not.
We sat down and had a full course dinner there, being waited on by a heavy set little man with a walrus mustache and a big smile.
When we finished Alex suggested that we go up to his room. I was looking forward to seeing the place where he lived. Much to my astonishment, however, it was a small upstairs apartment that overlooked the beach.
I immediately got the impression that it was a creator's quarters judging by the typewriter in the middle of the living room and the stacks of books and papers, some of which had lines through them and crossings. Cigarette butts lined the ash trays that were sprinkled all over the room. It looked in large part as if a cyclone had hit it.
"As you can see, I've been doing a lot of work lately," he gestured to the chaotic scene in front of us. "In fact, I had to cease working to go to that drab affair where we met. But I shouldn't call it that drab, I really shouldn't, since I did meet you there."
"Thank you," I smilingly acknowledged his compliment.
"Let me show you the view upstairs. It's far more impressive than what you see in this cluttered work room."
I walked behind him up a narrow flight of stairs. He took me into the bedroom. Beyond it rested a picture window, which was flung open, permitting a breeze to filter in from the water. I watched the water beyond, jostling restlessly.
Then, as I stood there admiring the beauteous view of the water and the night, he clasped his arms around me. Not in the tough manner that Bart had, but in a very gentle way. He leaned forward and let his lips make steady impact against mine.
"Oh, you're so lovely, just like a dream," he whispered as he continued to hold me. "How lucky I was to meet you at that drab party. And to think I almost didn't go at all. I just must take your clothes off and make love to you properly. I just must."
"Please do," I murmured prayerfully.
To show him how strongly inclined I was toward pleasing him I threw myself down on the bed, giving him a good view of my curled, sensuous legs. As he looked at me his eyes widened, and when my eyes dropped down between his legs I saw the refreshing sight of his penis inflating with passion.
"I must undress you," he said in an almost prayer-like silence.
I laid back and my body trembled slightly with feelings of anxiety. He stripped off my dress carefully and slowly, enjoying his chore with great pleasure. Once he finished unzipping it and pulled it off, he let his fingers zero in skillfully on my breasts, which he ran his fingers over smoothly.
The longer his smooth, artistic fingers made contact with my boobs the hotter I got. He observed how warm I was becoming, and finished stripping me naked.
He pulled my panties down my legs, removing them from my body and setting them next to my clothes on a nearby chair. Now Alex was set to go into the fineries of sophisticated lovemaking.
Alex slipped his fingers inside my moist, hairy twat, which longed to receive attention from him. His fingers worked their way inside the innermost crevices of my mound as the intense feelings within me appreciably accelerated.
"You're so moist down there," he smiled gently as the refreshing breeze continued filtering in through the open window.
"I'm ready for anything you want to do," I sighed.
Then he did something I'll never forget. He gave me the most thorough tongue bath that it is possible for a man to provide a woman. Alex began by dropping his tongue next to my buttocks.
With soft but sweeping movements Alex came into contact with my buttocks, tonguing them, depositing his saliva on them as he ran his tongue over them thoroughly. Then he used his teeth to nibble on my ass cheeks. And all the while I continued growing hotter under the exhilarating pace he set.
He finally worked his torrid tongue inside my anus, flicking upward with authority, seeing to it that he stabbed his tongue up into my asshole as high as it would go.
My ass cheeks began spasming from side to side as he kept up his speedy exercise, massaging me with brisk strokes, moving my pussy ever closer to the big moment of orgasm.
When he saw how hot I was becoming he placed his fingers against my arms and gently turned me around. Then he ran his fingers once more over my burning vaginal bush as he thrust his head down between my breasts and sucked on them thoroughly.
"Oh, keep sucking, keep sucking me," I sighed. "Give it to me until I explode. I want you, I want you."
He kept up his explosive tongue massage of my breasts for the next few minutes, then decided it was time to put his tongue to work on my box. He could tell from the obvious manner in which I was panting that I was highly desirous of exploding fast.
Alex exercised his tongue like a skillful torpedo, stepping up his pace and massaging my buttocks cheeks simultaneously as he drove me ever closer to the big moment.
"Oh, just a few more strokes," I gasped, "I'm just about to shoot. Oh, oh, just a few more strokes. Keep sucking, you cuntlicker, you beautiful cuntlicker."
At that point my juices bolted into his waiting mouth. My body tingled with liberated delight as he gobbled down every drop of my womanly nectar.
But he wasn't through, not by a long shot. His next move was to do something he hadn't given himself time to do earlier. He pulled off his clothes, revealing a slim, handsome body that turned me on all the more for action.
He pumped up and down on his elongated dick for a few seconds, then started tonguing my toes, taking turns sucking on them individually. Then he moved upward to my ears, sucking on my ear lobes, then kissing my ears.
By that time we were both steamed up with passion that it was time to move on to other things.
"Let's go down on each other," he suggested. "I want you sucking my peter while I'm licking this lovely furry snatch."
"Whatever you say," I winked.
I would have done anything with him. Nothing is dirty if you dig the guy you're doing it with enough.
He positioned his body across from mine and went to work skillfully on my box, letting his tongue move sweepingly in the same thorough, talented manner he had employed before.
While his tongue darted blindingly against my snatch I let my tongue sweep up and down his hard rod. In the meantime I put my fingers to work on his balls, which were swelling with excitement as I sucked his cock.
The tempo accelerated briskly on the part of both of us. We reached the point swiftly enough to where we were able to talentedly match each other stroke for stroke as we pushed each other's passions to the brink with purposeful sucking.
I exploded once, which caused him to get that much more excited, and to suck me all the swifter once he returned to his cunt sucking. And the faster he was inclined to suck me, the faster in return I put my tongue to work on his cock.
Soon we were moving down the stretch together, both trembling with sweaty passion as we neared climax.
This time we shot at the same impactful moment. As the hot sea of white lava bolted out of the end of his stick, the juice shot out of my pussy once more.
We ended up making love during most of the remainder of the evening. The next time around he exploded his throbbing penis inside my pussy. But our first time together was unforgettable. There's something charismatic about your first orgasm with a man you really love.
After that climactic evening we were so hooked on each other that there was no way to separate us. Several weeks later after a whirlwind courtship we were married.
We went to Rome, where we moved into an apartment. Even though he was a stickler about not being disturbed during the day, when he devoted his attentions almost exclusively to work, I enjoyed being around him so much that I never got bored.
When Alex finished the play he was working on, we left our beautiful little Rome apartment, our private little lovenest, and traveled to New York, where his play went immediately into production.
We ended up spending a full year in New York, during the entire run of the play, which proved highly successful. Hollywood bought the story rights and asked Alex to do the screenplay, so we were immediately off to the cinema capital, where we were forced to hold court for a bunch of brownnosers and sycophants of the industry.
The dull, synthetic people we encountered in the industry bored us to tears, and we could hardly wait until Alex finished his work there so we could get back to Rome.
With all the money that Alex had made from his successes, and due to the fact that he was tired from all the work he had done in New York and in California, he needed a rest.
So we took a trip, through the French Riviera, where we had met, to Austria, Paris. He and I shared each other in passionate lovemaking many times.
When I returned with him to Rome I learned that I was pregnant, which made me enormously happy, since one of my major goals in life had been to have a child by Alex.
Nine months later the child arrived on schedule, a little girl we named Diane. Those were probably, in thinking back, the happiest days of my life, those first early days when we were bringing up Diane.
Alex began to concern me in time, however, due to the way that he would work rigorously for hours, then want to engage in passionate lovemaking all night or almost all night long.
He was particularly talented at giving me tongue action, after which he would either want to explode inside my box or for me to suck his cock to climax.
I got concerned because some days the circles underneath his eyes were so dark that it appeared he was ready to pass out at any moment. But he would always recover satisfactorily in time to want to make love to me either that night or in the near future.
There were times when I would tell him to slow down and take things at a more leisurely pace, but he normally shrugged my suggestions off, telling me that he thrived on activity.
I liked the fact that he was active, but was concerned about him overdoing. As he neared the end of his work on a new play, which he was slated to take to New York with him soon, he worked into the wee hours of the morning.
He would wake me up in the middle of a sound sleep as he came into the room. The moment my body would commence stirring he would look at me and say: "How about giving your old man some sex before he gets some sleep?"
I would always accede to his wishes, since I loved expressing myself in a meaningful physical way.
Finally he finished his play and was ready to leave for New York. Two days before we were slated to leave with Diane, planning to stay with my folks while we were there, he insisted that we spend the better part of a day making love in bed.
We had the opportunity in that Diane had gone off to a birthday party being given by a friend, which left us completely alone.
Well, we did just about everything. He gave me one of his patented tongue exhibitions, we sixty-nined, and he shot off his anxious rod inside my nest.
At one point, right after he had gone off in my box, he collapsed next to me on the bed with a gasp. He looked extra tired, even more tired than ever as he finished.
I figured he would recover momentarily, but when he continued to lie there limply next to me, his face chalky white, his body trembling slightly, I became concerned about his condition.
I shook him by the shoulder.
"Dear, what's the matter?" I asked with mounting alarm.
Then his body began to shake out and he let out one long tremulous gasp. Everything then became limp again, after which I was unable to rouse him.
I got on the phone and called emergency, asking that an ambulance be sent over.
The ambulance arrived a few brief minutes later, but it was too late to do him any good. He was dead on their arrival from a heart attack!
My terrible fears had been vindicated. I had been afraid of what would happen to him from the combination of overwork and too much sex. He fell by the wayside in the same manner as have many other geniuses like him. His passions had victimized him-his creative passions during the day and his endless sexual passions at night.
I was crushed for months after that. I wouldn't have cared if I'd lived or died, despite all the money I had from the settlement from Bart and the inheritance I received from Alex, which proved substantial, since he had made a great deal from his play efforts in a few years, and had spent very little, if it hadn't been for Diane.
But money could never replace the man I loved, and only my little girl managed to help pull me through, since I knew I just couldn't let her down.
At Alex's funeral his older sister, his only surviving relative, informed me of a secret that Alex had kept from me. She confided that he had had a heart condition during most of his adult life, and that she had always been concerned about him overtaxing himself.
Hearing about that made me feel all the more guilty about having had so much sex with him. Here he had a serious health problem and I was unwittingly aggravating it by involving myself with him sexually on so many occasions.
When Diane became old enough to start first grade I decided to leave Rome and return to New York. Even though Mom and Dad, very sympathetic about my losing Alex, offered both Diane and me a chance to stay with them, I decided instead to take an apartment, wanting to cut it on my own and bring up my little girl my way.
I threw myself into local charity activities and volunteer political work in order to make my life meaningful, and make it easier to forget the sorrows of losing Alex.
Just when I was trying to remove myself from a darkened wilderness, I started seeing more of my little sister, who all of a sudden wasn't little at all anymore.
My sister Gail, at eighteen, had turned into the most curvaceous, gorgeous young blonde I had ever seen. It was a thrill to be seen with her, looking so sparkling with her blonde locks waving in the wind and exhibiting deep blue eyes and electrically clear skin.
When she graduated from high school I offered to take her on a trip. I felt she was entitled to a treat, just like I had received after I graduated from college.
It turned out that she had visited Europe the preceding summer, so I offered to take her somewhere that I hadn't been to for quite some time -the Caribbean, where we would go island hopping and see Nassau, Jamaica, and Bimini.
She was more than happy to go with me, and I was more than happy to have her company. I liked the youthful, vibrantly alive manner with which she would express herself. Yet, on the other hand, she acted very maturely, and conversed about intelligent subjects.
I wanted to be alone with her, so I left Diane behind in the care of my parents when it was time for us to leave.
We stopped off at Nassau first, where we acquired rich, golden tropical suntans. It was ego flattering to both of us that we attracted more attention than anybody else when we would go out on the beach together in our skimpy white bikinis.
As we got ready to leave Nassau for Jamaica, the next stop on our trip, I noticed myself getting noticeable sexual vibrations toward my beautiful young sister. I recall sneaking glances at her almost nude, sparklingly brown body as she lay on her stomach at poolside of the hotel where we were staying.
A tingle of exhilaration surfaced in the pit of my stomach, transmitting itself quickly between my legs to my restless snatch, as I focused my eyes on those trim, lithe legs.
I did my best to tell myself that I was only imagining things, and the first few times I got the inclination to examine her body I looked away quickly.
But by the time we got to Jamaica and we started spending the better part of our days at Doctor's Cove Beach in Montego Bay, it became increasingly clear that I was feeling much more than feelings of sisterly admiration toward her.
I found myself experiencing the same kind of tense feelings that I always got anytime I was anxious for sex with a man I liked. It was an overall restlessness that eventually ended up centering between my legs. Whenever she would look the other way I would sneak a quick glance in her direction. When I wasn't getting turned on by those beautiful tanned legs I would focus my eyes on her captivating breasts, which looked so firm and delectable. I kept wishing that I had the guts or the opportunity to touch them.
Our second day in Montego Bay my strong sex feelings became so pronounced that I could think of nothing else. I kept trying to banish the thoughts from my mind, or tell myself that I was simply imagining things. But after awhile I realized that I was only conning myself, which left two options-either suffer with my feelings and try and keep Gail from finding out about them, or take a risk of alienating her and precipitating the possibility of great embarrassment coming to me in the family by yielding to my emotional and physical impulses by trying to put the make on her.
As we walked sun-drenched in the late afternoon sun from the beach to the hotel where we were staying across the street, my thoughts began weighing heavily on what I would do. My cunt was absolutely burning up with sexual anticipation, so keen was I to give her a roll in the hay.
Never in my life had I looked with such fondness on the possibility of running my tongue and fingers over a woman's breasts. Nor had I ever looked at the prospect of running my tongue against a woman's warm, blazing vagina as I did then.
Naturally the whole thing seemed all the more incredible and provocative since it was my own younger sister toward whom I felt this strongly. Any feelings like those I then harbored, directed toward another woman, would have caused me aggravation, but with Gail everything was made double frustrating.
Yet through it all, through all the frustration, there was something strangely romantic in a highly off beat way about getting turned on by your own sister.
Every time she turned her head as I walked along with her I would steal a quick glance at her form. The brown coppery glow of her body made it even more appealing than usual.
I was infatuated with the construction of her buttocks, tucked so firmly secure underneath her bikini bottom. My fingers became itchy with an electrifying desire to run my fingers over them, to cup them over her ass cheeks in the way that my departed husband Alex had so often run his fingers over my buttocks when he was pumping his meaty doing into me.
We got back to our room and Gail quickly announced: "I've just gotta take a shower. I've gotta get all this gooey sweat off of my body."
"You look absolutely beautiful with that tan, my dear," I told her, my heart fluttering rapidly as I looked at her.
"Thank you. You look absolutely great yourself," she gave me her warmest smile.
Those kind words from her caused me to become all the more excited. Could she actually be telling me that she liked my looks? No, I quickly dismissed the thoughts, as badly as I wanted to believe them. After all, I was her older sister and had paid her a compliment, so she was only being nice.
My eyes remained frozen on her as she unbuckled her bikini top, letting her pendulous white breasts fall free. I noticed the color contrast immediately between her protected breasts and the rest of her brown texture.
Then her fingers went nimbly to work on her bikini bottom, which she wiggled out of, letting me see her hairy golden-thatched lovenest and her white buttocks, which also contrasted with the rest of her stunning brown form.
"Well, that shower's waiting," she smiled.
I watched those cute buttocks wiggle as she sauntered off demurely toward the bathroom. She turned the water on and I observed her from the distance stepping into the shower.
My body began shifting uncomfortably in the bed as I sat there listening to the water run in the bathroom. Seeing that body in the nude was too much for me to calmly absorb that afternoon, in view of the way I felt.
Without even thinking about it I undid my own bikini bottom, let it drop to the floor, and put my fingers to work inside my box, stroking away briskly.
I closed my eyes and imagined Gail's beautiful nude form before me. I imagined myself touching those wonderful pendulous breasts that looked so inspiring to me.
As I continued toying with my twat, pushing myself ever closer to explosion, Gail suddenly called to me from the shower.
"Valerie, dear, can you give me a hand," she called.
I got up from the bed, my body still trembling from the excitement I had provided it through masturbation. I suddenly realized how silly I must have looked, what with my bikini top still intact and my bottom off. In a reckless spirit I undid the bikini top, tossing it to the floor, where it rested next to my bikini bottom. I got up from the bed and headed into the bathroom.
Gail gave me a smile of delight as she caught her first glimpse of my totally nude body as I walked into the bathroom. She shut off the shower water immediately.
"Would you be kind enough to dry me off?" she asked.
My heart stopped and I paused reflectively before doing anything. She was pushing my aroused emotions to the absolute brink. I wanted her and here she was asking me to towel her off. If she only knew how badly I wanted to touch her body, how intimately I wanted to get to know her.
I finally picked up the towel. My breath was heavier than I wanted it to be, something I couldn't seem to control, in spite of how badly I wanted to.
She stepped nimbly out of the tub. A wide grin began spreading itself across her entire face. I wondered what was causing her to grin in such a manner. My heart pounded thunderously as I moved the towel forward and applied it to her skin.
"Oh, that feels good," she smiled. "Go ahead, honey. Drop the towel if you want to and play with my breasts if you want to. Go ahead. You don't have to be bashful. Touch them."
"What are you trying to say?" I dropped the towel and looked at her, my mouth hanging open with shock.
"Just this. I've seen you ogling my body the last few days. There's nothing to be ashamed if you like it. Lots of girls have liked it and have told me so. A few of them have even made love to it. In fact, I don't mind telling you that I like yours as well. I'm real glad you had the foresight to come in here naked. It makes everything so much cozier, so much easier."
"Oh, Gail," I swooned, not knowing what else to say as my stomach swirled with tense excitement.
"I'll make the first move," Gail smiled. "I'm not ashamed of my feelings for you, and you shouldn't be ashamed of your feelings for me."
She slipped her fingers against my breasts, running them over them with smooth, massaging strokes. Gail squeezed my nipples a few times. Then she puckered her thick red lips and pushed them forward toward mine.
They met mine with sweeping passion as my heart pounded rapturously. Then the nervousness within me suddenly vanished. It was time for me to yield to the impulses inside me that had been lying beneath the surface for the last few days.
Finally I got to express myself as I cupped my fingers around her breasts, as I had dreamed of doing, and delivered a sharp kiss to her lips.
Her fingers found their way around my buttocks cheeks, and I decided to do the same thing to her at the same time. Our tongues found their way inside each other's mouth. We Frenched passionately for the next few seconds, after which Gail suddenly broke our kiss.
"Let's get into bed and fuck," she told me urgently.
It didn't matter that I was still a little wet with sweat accumulated from a day at the beach, or that her body was wet from the water she had accumulated in the shower, which I hadn't sufficient time to dry off of her.
All that mattered by that moment was that we were two young, horny women hotly desiring a good fuck. It didn't even matter by that point that we were sisters.
It was quite an illuminating experience to discover that as a sophisticated woman of the world I remained in certain respects a prude, who had to be educated in the fineries of sex by her young sister.
Gail had been the one to point out the foolishness of my guilt and fears to express myself physically to her. And it was Gail who openly admitted to having had affairs with other women, making no bones about any of her sex feelings.
Due to her candor I was finally able to loosen up and go about the business of lovemaking with my little sister. We ran our fingers around each other's breasts, enjoying each other's touch.
She finally reached down and began circulating her fingers over my box with her free hand, while the other continued circulating around my breasts and nipples.
I reached down with my free hand and put my fingers to work on her moist mound, the same mound that I had been so fond to touch before. The faster she stroked my twat the more rapidly I put my fingers to work on hers.
Our cunts were flaming with passion when she decided to zero in on mine with hers. Gail put her tongue to work fervently, letting it maneuver briskly over my snatch.
I decided that I would put my own tongue to work in her nest. I went slowly at first, probing my way gently forward stroke by stroke, as the passions accelerated within both of us.
The longer that we sucked each other the faster our bodies trembled to the excitement we enthusiastically generated.
Our tongues splashed wildly as we pushed each other close to the big moment of explosion. It was another one of those breathtaking once in a lifetime experiences for me, when I would be providing a new lover of whom I was very fond with a first orgasm, and she would be providing the same for me.
Our bodies began to sweat with arousal as we pushed our tongues ever spiritedly forward toward the big moment of climax. I popped first,- and she followed just a few seconds back.
"I hope this is the start of something really big," Gail looked at me hopefully after we ended that climactic first orgasm.
"It is," I smiled.
"You see, your little sister was able to teach you something after all, wasn't she?"
"You're not little sister anymore," I smiled, running my fingers fondly over her breasts.
Never again was I to call her my little sister. She proved conclusively that afternoon just how grown up she was. She had taught me to throw my petty fears aside and communicate with her, and it marked the first important physical communication I had had since my husband had died.
We balled for the remainder of the trip. We took turns sucking each other's ass out and eating each other's box out. Then there were also many occasions when we would go down on each other at the same time.
It turned out in the final analysis that we enjoyed the sixty-nine action more than any other kind. That way we were able to measure each other's responses simultaneously. There's no way we can beat it when it comes to intimacy and being able to totally identify, emotionally and physically, with another woman.
Since we returned from our trip we have continued on intimate terms. Fortunately Gail decided to go to college in New York City, which means I get to see quite a bit of her.
I've been dating men occasionally, and she has loads of boyfriends, but when it comes to real communication in bed we seek out each other. Usually she comes to see me at my apartment when Diane isn't around.
Do I feel funny about going to bed with my own sister? No I don't. The main thing is that we're providing meaningful pleasure and release for each other. We're both happy about the relationship.
The necessity abiding within Valerie, that of fervently desiring meaningful sex release at a crucial period of her life, the period following her husband's death, turned the tide and caused her to enter the realm of lesbian incest with her own sister.
SUMMARY Valerie was crushed when the man in her life that she had loved the most, her talented husband Alex, died of a heart attack. Compounding her problems was the discovery that be had had a heart condition of which she was unaware.
Gail came along at a time when she had no meaningful sexual outlet. Her loneliness, normal sex desires, along with Gail's loveliness combined to send Valerie into a sexual tizzy.
It is likely that, in time, both Valerie and Gail will find regular lovers other than each other. At the moment they supply each other with basic needs. Valerie has the love of a voluptuous young girl to keep her happy while Gail, who has had a strong admiration for her older sister, enjoys providing her with stimulation.
CHAPTER TWO
Edward C. was a handsome young man who looked like he had not a care in the world.
Well-dressed and smoothly conversational, Edward came to me to get a serious problem off his chest, confiding that he did not know who else to talk to other than a professional man who could observe his problem with a certain degree of detachment.
Once Edward got started, following a few uncomfortable pauses, he was able to tell his story smoothly. Recorded on tape is the story related by Edward: Although I was born and grew up in San Francisco, I went back to an Ivy League school back East when it was time to go to college. My father was a respected businessman in the Bay Area, and he had always been high on me getting a good education, then taking over for him in business.
Once I got out of college I had the draft staring me in the face. I got a job at one of my father's plants outside the city, his Burlingame plant, but got so uptight just sweating about the draft that I finally broke the ice and enlisted.
The big reason I enlisted was that I've always had a king-sized ego, and on top of that I came from a pretty wealthy family, so I'd never really had to put up with crap from anybody.
I didn't like all the stories I'd heard from friends and acquaintances about having to shine shoes for guys just to make them happy and all that in the Army. As long as I was gonna have to go, I figured I'd be a whole lot better off assuming an officer's position, which I knew I could obtain provided that I enlisted.
Well, I finally broke the ice and enlisted with some shrewd talking recruiting sergeant in San Francisco, and next thing I knew I was on my way to basic training camp at Fort Ord in Northern California. From there I went to Officer's Candidate School at Fort Benning, Georgia, coming out with my Second Lieutenant's commission.
The next three years were a boring waste for the most part. I spent time in Germany and South Korea, then finally got out, and was I ever happy when I did. I came out a First Lieutenant and there was no way that they could ever have coaxed me into re-enlisting.
The most fun I had was on those occasions when I'd leave camp in the quiet of evening and visit a whorehouse. I liked some of the expert cock sucks I'd get, particularly from some of those thorough blonde whores I'd run into in West Berlin when I was stationed there.
When I was discharged I went home to San Francisco to a big homecoming reception given by my folks, my two brothers, and my sister. It was good to be back and I looked forward to taking over a position in one of my father's branch offices.
But when the joys of being back home wore off I discovered how little I was cut out to be a business executive. I then realized that my line of work was one of the basic reasons I was so bored working in Dad's Burlingame office. I had figured at the time that I was just nervous about the uncertainty of my future, which belonged squarely to Uncle Sam, but the job had something to do with it as well. In fact, plenty to do with it.
It was a hard thing to have to do, but I finally went to my father and told him how damned miserable I was doing that kind of work. As the eldest son in the family he had specifically earmarked me to take over his entire business for him.
He was naturally disappointed, as I expected him to be, but he was also understanding, which I had also anticipated.
"No, son," he patted me affectionately on the shoulder, "you've got to make your own decisions. If business just isn't the line of work you'd be happiest in, then so be it. I don't want to twist your arm in any way."
So I left my father's employ and left San Francisco as well, deciding to try my luck in Southern California. The big reason why I decided to leave home was that I wanted to make my mark independently. My father and mother were always desirous of helping, but I felt if I was ever going to cut it I'd better do it on my own.
At first when I moved to Southern California and took an apartment in Newport Beach I didn't know precisely what I wanted to do, so I just bummed around and even took a job as a bartender at one point.
One skill I had learned in the Army was communications, and for a time I even managed to land a post at a South Korean base as a local disc jockey. So I decided I would give that a try, securing a post at a local FM affiliate.
It wasn't a big station, but the job paid my bills, wasn't all that hard, and gave me plenty of time to develop myself in the one area that I was really interested in, painting. And that was probably one of the basic reasons why I wanted to leave home as well. I knew about how my folks, who were very much practical thinkers imbued in the old Puritan ethic, would react if I told them that I had hopes of becoming an American Van Gogh.
The Newport Beach area was scenic, and in my spare time I found myself going to the beach, complete with canvas and paint, hoping to suck in the scenery and achieve artistic success.
One hot afternoon when I was working with my shirt off and sweating like hell, I noticed a young woman with brown hair flowing in the very slight afternoon breeze walking along the beach.
Normally I was so completely absorbed in what I was doing when I had a paint brush in my hand that I never noticed anything else. But, then again, isn't a pretty girl an exception to every rule? It always has been with me anyway.
I stopped concentrating on the mountain slope I was painting long enough to focus on the pretty girl, who wore an old long-sleeved white shirt with the tail out and sloppy faded blue jeans. She wore no shoes and kicked at the sand carelessly as she walked.
After watching her for a few seconds and wiping off some sweat on my hand I went back to work, figuring that she was either with somebody or had intended to be by herself.
Then a few minutes later I heard laughter, coupled with a feminine voice saying: "And just what are you trying to do?"
I looked up directly into the face of the girl I had seen walking down the beach a few minutes before. Her face was tanned radiantly and she wore an impish smile. From close up her body loomed even more impressive than it had in the distance. As for her face, that was superb by any yardstick.
"I'm trying to paint," I told her.
"That's what I thought," she said.
Then this girl went into a long dissertation of the history of American painting, demonstrating a knowledge which, I must confess, exceeded even mine.
"How'd you learn so much about painting?" I asked her startledly.
"I went to art school."
"By the way. My name's Ed. What's yours?"
"My real name's Sandra. But everybody calls me Sandy."
"Then I guess I'll call you Sandy as well."
"You might as well," she nodded. "I'd like to how you some of my work. I did lots of painting when I was in Paris with my family last summer."
"I'd love to see it."
"Fine, I was on my way home. That is, before I spotted a fellow painter. If you're willing to cease work for a little while I'd like to take you home right now and show you."
"You've got a deal," I put my brush down and folded up my canvas.
You never would have believed it, or at least I wouldn't, but this gal came from one of the wealthiest families in the area. When she told me her last name I recognized it right away. And when she took me inside that fantastic home on top of the hill that I had admired so many times from the distance I knew all about her family.
Sandy's father was a prominent physician and civic leader in the community. Sandy, who might have preferred dressing casually, had all the luxuries a young woman could have at home.
Not only was she exceptionally bright, not only did she come from a wealthy and prominent family, but she also was a fantastic painter. Once again I've got to make a reluctant admission-as hard as I tried with my own work, I wasn't in her league as a painter. I thought to myself that maybe if I got well enough acquainted with her she would smooth over a few rough edges for me.
After showing me her paintings and having the house maid fix us glasses of cold tea, she took me outside to their huge backyard swimming pool, asking me if I wanted to take a swim.
"I'd love to," I nodded.
She steered me to the cabana in the back of the yard, assuring me that a pair of her father's trunks were destined to fit me.
"You're about his size," she smiled broadly.
Sandy turned out to be right, as she virtually always was. The trunks fit and I walked out of the cabana and back to the pool. Then my cock froze solidly as I caught a look at her in a polka dot bikini.
As beautiful as her body had looked even in the long-sleeved shirt and the faded blue jeans, they couldn't have begun to do her justice like that bikini could.
Her hips and ankles were tapered down to perfection, her breasts were flowingly voluptuous, yet very firm, and her buttocks were well-rounded and firm.
My penis was on the verge of instantly flying out of control with stored up passion. I hadn't seen anybody quite like her in a long spell. Actually, I would never see many that were in her league, she looked that good.
I jumped into the pool as she motioned to me after plunging in, taking a few quick laps. She laughed gleefully as she swam with motionless ease. Contact with the cool sparkling waters had cooled my hot body off partially, but certainly not between my legs, where it really counted.
I started thinking about the fact that her parents weren't home. I wondered if maybe she would be in line for some action, since she had picked up with me so quickly. But I rejected such a theory as quickly as it had surfaced, since everything about her conveyed the impression that she wouldn't be an easy score. The girl who has practically everything, such as she obviously did, was scarcely ever easy, unless a guy just happened to luck out.
But there was another simple reason why I probably wouldn't get to fuck her at that point. She had come over to me not as a flirt who wanted to be picked up, but as a fellow artist concerned about seeing my work and discussing a subject with which she was vitally concerned. It wasn't until after we had talked awhile that she had asked me to accompany me to her home to look at her work.
With each stirring moment I spent in her presence, however, I became more captivated with her physically. I liked the way that her beautiful body skillfully manipulated itself around in the blue waters of the pool, and wished with everything in me that I had her in a bed somewhere, where I could drill her with my stiff pecker.
Following our swim we returned to our separate cabanas, dried our bodies off, and dressed. By the time we went back into the house Sandy's parents had returned. They were handsome, distinguished gray-haired people in their fifties who looked like the pillars of the community that they were.
I stayed and talked to Sandy and her parents for a few minutes, with Sandy spending a great deal of time excitedly telling her parents that she had finally found a friend who shared her deep interest and appreciation for art.
Before I left I asked Sandy if we might meet again. She suggested we meet at the beach, where we could paint together. I agreed, suggesting we meet the following day, to which she consented.
As much as I loved painting, I dug Sandy more, and the hours I spent with her the next day were among the most enjoyable I ever spent with anyone. She kept her mind on her work, that is, until I talked her out of it.
"Can't we stop talking about Sandy the painter for awhile and talk about Sandy the girl?" I asked hopefully with a wide grin. All the while my prick shifted restlessly inside my pants.
"Do you really care about Sandy the girl?" she smiled back as a covey of sea gulls transported themselves in the blue skies overhead.
"That's a real foolish question," I shook my head. My heart began palpitating savagely, my body shook a little with excitement, and I stepped forward, throwing my arms around her.
Instinctively we kissed. She closed her eyes and puckered up and I met her ruby red lips, which I had admired so many times, with a swift decisive thrust.
I pressed her body securely against mine, gasping with sexual exhilaration as I felt those smooth solid breasts rub against my chest as my lips met hers once more.
The kissing was just too much. My cock stood stiffly in my trousers, poised and ready for immediate action. I just had to make a move at that point to maintain peace of mind.
"How about going to my place?" I inquired in a romantic whisper.
"Okay," she nodded.
No, Sandy wasn't an easy girl, I was sure of that, but there had been a certain indefinable chemistry that had jelled between us immediately, right from the time we had first met. All we had to do was spend a little time getting exposed to each other and that chemistry would be ready to unite, then explode.
We walked along the beach hand-in-hand back to my place. I was hoping she would want to go all the way with me, just like I wanted to do with her. But one thing was certain through it all, she liked me, really liked me. That was plain to see and did that knowledge and recognition ever make me feel nappy.
We got back to my small apartment and I immediately drew the drapes to insure maximum privacy. As we stood next to each other in the living room I pushed my head forward and thrust my lips against hers one more time. Then I effectively slipped my tongue inside her mouth, letting tongue clash against tongue as my pulse throbbing accelerated.
By the time I broke that lengthy French kiss we were both carried away in a sea of flowing passions. Without saying a word to each other we walked into the bedroom, where I quickly proceeded to undress her. My nervous fingers circulated quickly until I took off her jeans and her blouse.
"You look so sexy in your underwear," I sighed, focusing my eyes on her panties and bra.
I hooked my fingers inside her bra and felt the warm smoothness of those wonderful breasts. Then I undid the bra, unhooking it and letting those voluptuous tits fall free.
Then my eager fingers reached downward to her panties. I slipped them around the panties and pulled them down with one decisive downward plunge. She stepped out of the panties and I zeroed my fingers in on her vagina.
Her entire body quaked with sensation as my fingers massaged her warm red vagina, which reacted favorably to my touch. Her body trembled a little in instinctive reaction to my movements.
"Oh, do I ever want you," I told her with a tone of longing. She was one woman who affected me profoundly by virtue of her mere presence. Anything more than that was certain to drive me out of my skull.
After spending a few more seconds stroking that hot vagina, which was moistening now with excitement, I dropped down quickly to my knees and kissed her cunt.
I wanted to pay that beautiful body tribute in every conceivable way I knew how, since I loved her intensely. I kissed her pussy several more times, precipitating some more sparks flying through her, then let my tongue rub against her clitoris.
"Oh, you're burning me up with passion," she gasped, "you've got me absolutely burning."
"Let's go into the bedroom right now," I whispered.
We had gotten so turned on with what we were doing that we hadn't even bothered going into the bedroom. Now, with my prick standing extra tall in the saddle underneath my trousers, I fervently desired to strip off all my clothes and to make Sandy properly in bed.
We got into the bedroom, which I quickly darkened for effect, then I removed my clothes. I felt as free as a bird once I took off my pants and shorts, since my big cock then had all the freedom that it could ever need. And, on top of that, I was happy to unveil it in all its proud glory for Sandy.
I threw my arms around Sandy and pulled her downward into bed with me. I showered her lips with kisses, then moved my tongue down between her breasts, sucking and nibbling on her breasts.
Her entire body began vibrating to my spirited tongue movements as tongue made contact with her smooth rich boobs. My fingers combed up and down her body as my tongue continued consistently finding the mark on her tits.
I lowered my head some more. This time it dropped between those sleek, sexy brown legs which I so greatly admired. I kissed her moist cuntal lips several times, then let my tongue make speedy contact with them.
She gasped as the itch swept through her body from the movements I provided with my tongue. In and out my tongue darted speedily as I moved it around inside her. Her hips and buttocks rocked spiritedly, moving upward to make contact with my stabs, as I pushed her ever closer to the orgasm she sought.
"Oh, keep it up," she begged, "I want you to suck me out, keep it up, I want you, I want to give you my juice, oh, oh, it itches, oh, my pussy is itching, suck me, suck."
Her spirited words sent burning waves of excitement bolting through my stomach as I determinedly sucked her toward climax.
Finally lovely Sandy bolted the juices that I had been longing to receive into my mouth and I swallowed every drop of them with great pleasure, enjoying every ounce of what she had given me.
At that point my paramount concern became getting my hot rocks off. The burning excitement within me had accelerated all the more as I prepared to put my penis to work.
"I've just gotta shove this dick in you," I pointed toward my swollen rod with great excitement.
"Go ahead, I'm ready. You gave me such a wonderful time."
"Oh, thank you," I gasped, reaching down and kissing her lips with great satisfaction.
The kiss produced that much more excitement between my legs. I trembled with a sense of mounting passion as I put my cock to work briskly inside her mound.
I ran my fingers up and down her smooth legs, giving myself extra support as I drove my prick into her. I let out a gasp upon coming into contact with her tight mound for the first time. In and out I pushed with brisk effectiveness, driving myself forward with piercing thrusts, sending myself toward that surging prick, that magnanimous precipice of climax.
The longer and faster I rocked my cock back and forth inside her, the more rhythmic her bodily movements became in accompaniment to my own piercing efforts.
Quickly the tempo continued accelerating as my prick, my throbbing fleshy penis, fastened itself on its object. My fingers squeezed her nipples meaningfully as my cock continued to glide in and out of her searing love tunnel.
Through it all the tremendous excitement my body felt continued to increase. In and out my cock surged into her as she gasped and writhed, eagerly receiving my movements.
"Oh, it feels so good with this cock in you," I gasped, "just like it always belonged inside you. Oh, I love that tightness. That's it, oh, that's it, let those hips move back and forth like that, I really like it, keep it up."
Spiritedly I kept my prick surging forward, and as I let the tempo build she was content to do the same.
"Oh, this is great," I gasped.
"Keep it up, keep fucking me," she sighed. "I like those movements. Oh, are you ever pumping the meat to me. Keep it up, keep up that fucking, I want it."
Her words of encouragement caused me to become all the more excited by what was going on. I shoved my penis forward ever so diligently, determined to soak all the excitement out of our bodies that it was possible to obtain.
I leaned my head forward and placed my tongue inside Sandy's mouth. I tried to match my brisk cock pace with that which my tongue set as it splashed against hers.
The rhythmic tempo continued to increase until finally my cock exploded it's juice inside her nest. At that moment I released my tongue from her mouth and we both let out lengthy sighs.
I wrapped my arms around her when it was all over and delivered a big kiss of gratitude to her lips.
"Thanks for the best screw I've ever had," I told her.
"Don't thank me. You helped make it."
"I want to do more with you. I don't want to stop now."
"Neither do I."
I reached down and tickled her pussy with my fingers. She looked up at me and nodded knowingly. Then she put her fingers immediately to work on my cock, determined to pump it back up to where it had been before it popped.
It wouldn't take much effort for her to achieve her objective, I realized from the very beginning, since it hadn't even gone down that much from where it had been before.
A few more lively strokes and it was standing as high and as sexy as ever. I parted her legs gingerly with my fingers and shoved my head between them.
I picked up the lively scent of her moist snatch as I thrust out my tongue and let it come into contact with her box. I nibbled on her clitoris for awhile, then let my tongue work eagerly around her box as she lay back and enjoyed the action.
Finally she moved her body forward and reached outward, grabbing ahold of my big dick and moving her fingers nimbly over it. Up and down she pumped as the burning sensations multiplied in my cock and balls. When she saw my balls inflating and getting turned on to her movements, she let her fingers go to work on them, getting me so hot I could hardly stand it.
As I continued sucking out her cunt she moved her head forward and circulated her tongue over my balls. I gasped and my body jerked from side to side from the intense reaction I got from her vibrant, spirited tongue thrusts.
She moved her tongue up and down over my prick after she succeeded in getting my balls into a torrid uproar. Our bodies trembled as we pumped all the diligent tongue enthusiasm into our efforts that we could, determined to unselfishly please each other in every way that we knew how.
Sandy popped her juices at one point. I slowed down my pace just long enough to swallow her load, then quickly returned to action.
She picked up steam in her sucking, running her fingers searchingly over my balls as her tongue continued to dart up and down enthusiastically over my prick.
The pace continued to build until she shot one more time. Then, just seconds after I swallowed another load of her sweet nectar, I exploded my hot dick in her mouth.
An all-encompassing itchiness pervaded my entire cock and scrotum as the stream of hot white juice bolted voluminously out of the end of my stick and into her waiting mouth.
Sandy handled things skillfully, continuing to toy with my balls and provide me with every ounce of extra stimulation that she could as she tugged with them and drank my liquid.
We finally broke up our romantic interlude, exhausted from the physical efforts we summoned to provide pleasure for each other, but extremely happy that we had.
I took her out to dinner that night, and we talked excitedly some more about our painting and about how great it was to know somebody with the same range of interests you held near and dear to yourself. Needless to say, though, there was one interest in my case that exceeded even that of painting by that time, and it was fucking.
Sandy possessed all the attributes that I could ever have dreamed of coalescing into one delightful girl. She had a keen intellect, beauty of face and form, and was artistic.
Needless to say, I was very much in love with her, and looked forward to a day in the not too distant future when she would be my wife. I was more stoutly determined than ever before in my life to win her over to me completely and have her for my own. Everything else in life took a backseat to that objective.
Despite my determination, however, and despite the beautiful lovemaking we had enjoyed that day, I lost her, and enduring that was the greatest tragedy of my life. Up until the time that I had met and fallen in love with Sandy, women had been a touch and go proposition with me. I had had a few transitory affairs, and a few dalliances with women in whore houses, but nothing had come out of any of those arrangements other than a few passing thrills.
But Sandy changed all that. She gave me my meaning in life and, you know, even my painting picked up noticeably when I was going with her. She provided a lot of inspiration and, in addition, we compared notes continuously on what we were doing.
I went with her during that entire summer, and it was the most wonderful of my life. I made enough money from my job as a disc jockey over that small station I mentioned earlier, and spent my extra time either painting or with Sandy. She was on her summer vacation break from USC, where she attended college, and I was hoping that by the time she returned to school in fall I would have her irrevocably committed to me.
Toward the end of summer, however, she came to me one day misty-eyed and told me that her father wanted to talk to me. In the intervening period between then and the day that I had first met him, I had seen him several times. Once I was invited over there for dinner.
I frankly was more than a little dumbfounded over her announcement that her father wanted to see me. Not so much because of the message as by the expression on her face and the tears in her eyes. I was afraid that something was wrong, perhaps terribly so.
"What does he want to talk to me about, Sandy?" I asked her as I put on one of my better shirts.
"I'd better not say anymore. He just wants to talk to you," she said tight-lipped.
"I see," I nodded, realizing that I wouldn't be getting anymore out of her on that score. Sandy didn't have much to say during the walk to her place, which made me even more fearful regarding what the future would foretell.
No sooner did I get to her place than her father appeared in the living room dressed in a sport shirt and smart sport slacks.
"Can we have a private little chat in the den?" he inquired after we shook hands.
"Why not," I shrugged.
"Very good. Right this way. See you later, Sandy," he said, cluing her in unmistakably that he wanted-privacy.
She nodded, a little sadly, I thought, and walked away.
He closed the door of the den after we entered and suggesting pouring us each a drink, to which I consented. He took a couple of quick sips from his cognac glass, ran his fingers through his curly gray mane, then got right to the point.
"Just how much do you like my daughter?" he asked pointedly.
"I don't like her, I love her, sir," I leaned forward and told him just as pointedly. "I'm sorry to have to sound so blunt, but have you ever thought of what you could give her? I mean really give her."
"Yes, sir, more love than she could get from anybody else," I replied as emphatically as I knew how. I could see the turn that the conversation was rapidly taking and didn't like it.
"That's about what I expected you to say," he nodded glumly. "I'm a little more practical than that. Sandy's the only child I have and I want to see to it that she gets the absolute best in life. I've checked into your background, young man, and checked carefully. I must say that you come from a very good San Francisco family. Your father is very prominent in his field. But I've noticed a lack of stability in your life. You're making very little at that station where you work, and then there are those dreams about becoming a painter. Painting is a fine hobby but, except in rare instances, it won't even pay your bills, much less provide you with security."
"Just what is it you're trying to say?" I asked sharply, stung by his line of conversation.
"You are making it unpleasant to say this tactfully," he shook his head. "You've enjoyed my daughter's company for the better part of one summer. You've gone swimming with her, you've painted with her, you've generally had a good time, I'm sure. But she has opportunities to explore with all kinds of wealthy, successful men who could give her the kind of life she really is entitled to, what with her brains and beauty along with her social position. There are several highly successful young doctors I know in this area who have expressed far more than a passing interest in her. And, then too, she'll be returning to school early next month."
"Doesn't she have a say in this matter?" I jumped up on my feet and exploded, my face contorting itself tightly in tense rage.
"Control yourself, my young man."
"Control myself like hell. I want to hear these words from her, not you. She's the one I love."
"You're only making things that much more unpleasant for yourself," he shook his head. "But very well, if you want to speak with Sandy you'll have that opportunity." He pushed his intercom button and said: "Sandy, would you please step in here for a minute, dear."
I heard the pitter-patter of her footsteps moving toward the den. My heart pounded and my head spun as I knew that the dramatic showdown was impending.
As she entered the room she was sobbing, with tears rolling down both cheeks. Her father explained to her the purpose for which we both wanted to talk to her.
"He wants to hear from your lips what I have already told him, my dear," he explained. "Well, what would you like to tell him?"
She stood there, her knees knocking slightly with tension. She let out a sigh, then nodded: "Yes, it's better that way," she said meekly.
"Do you really mean that?" I looked in her eyes carefully, my heart breaking in two.
"Yes, it's better that way," she repeated, once more in a soft, dullish tone.
"I see," I jumped to my feet, staggering unsurely for a few seconds. "Then I guess there's no use for an unwelcome guest to spend anymore time here." I turned toward her father and looked at him spitefully. "Thanks very much for the drink. You couldn't have been a more excellent host, I'm sure."
Sandy started sobbing uncontrollably as I darted out the door. Her father tried to calm me down. "No need to have hard feelings, young man. C'mon back and I'll pour us another drink," he said smoothly.
"Pour them for you and Sandy," I said bitterly. "You're the ones who have something to celebrate."
With that I stormed out the door and left the house. Never again would I see either one of them.
The first few nights after that tragic meeting I would awaken in the middle of the night thinking about Sandy. My cock would get good and hard, and often I would have to run my fingers up and down it until I exploded. Then I would be forced to confront the real fact that she was out of my life.
Suddenly the job became unbearable and I even lost interest in my painting, since it was tied so closely to Sandy. In fact, so was that whole Newport Beach area. Every time I looked up on that hill and saw the house where she lived I thought about her smug old man and the way that he had curtly told me to get out of his girl's life.
For the first time since I had decided to quit working for my father I started resenting my life style. I resented it because it had enabled Sandy's father to hold it over my head, informing me that I wouldn't be a good bet for his daughter due to my lack of financial security.
I thought about what I would have to do to change my status, to develop a position within society that would even be superior to that of Sandy's smug father. I thought about how satisfying it would be to some day be much wealthier and far more prominent than he. What a sheer joy it would be to rub my position in the son of a bitch's face.
Finally I decided that, as hard as it would be, I would return to San Francisco and talk to my father about a job at one of his plants. Maybe I would hate what I was doing for a while, but if I worked hard enough perhaps I would soar to the top in a way that I wouldn't if I just went out on my own.
By the time I went to see him he informed me of his expansion into other countries, and that he had a thriving business office in London. By that time my young brother Tony was out of college and was working in the Burlingame office in a management position, the same post I had given up.
When I saw the style in which Tony was living, with a flashy wardrobe, a Cadillac, a beautiful apartment overlooking the Bay, and more beautiful dolls than you could shake a stick at, I knew that that was for me, even if business might not be my bag. I'd learn to make it my bag no matter how hard it might be.
I was just as happy that I was being sent out of the country, sent to London, where I knew nobody. I wanted to be away from people that I knew. I wanted a chance to completely do my own thing.
It did take a tremendous manifestation of the will, but finally I started to achieve something in the way of progress. I started to rise within the organization until I finally ended up as head of the whole office, which my father had assured me would happen if and when I proved my mettle.
I started getting on my feet financially and prestige-wise. I took advantage of every opportunity I got with women. Then I got some ideas about my father expanding his European base. I talked to him about it and was receptive about the idea.
Through my initiative we opened four new offices in European locales slightly better than two years after I joined the operation. And I was in charge of overseeing the whole operation.
I kept wondering if and when I would meet another girl like Sandy, somebody I would want to marry. But even though I had more than my share of women to choose from, I never got to feeling the same degree of intensity that I felt for Sandy.
Then one day, as I sat in my London office going over the books, I got a call. It was from my sister Pamela, whom I hadn't seen in better than a year.
"Glad to hear your voice," I chuckled. "What caused you to give me a ring?"
"The most awful thing has happened," she said with a choked voice.
"Whatever happened?" I asked.
"I'm calling from school. You remember that guy I said I was gone on? The one I said I was sure I'd be marrying?"
"I remember. You mean the stockbroker?"
"That's the guy. Well, I found out he was married and I just don't care about anything right now. My whole world's crushed."
"I'd like to fly over there and break that guy's neck," I said with obvious bitterness.
"No, no, that won't do any good. Actually I was the one who turned him on, and he gave me subtle little hints at certain points, hints that I was too naive to pick up on."
"I hope he didn't knock you up. Come clean and tell me if he did."
"No, nothing like that."
"That's good."
"I don't know how to put this Ed, but I'm on my spring vacation and I'd sure like to see you. It would cheer me up, it really would. I just can't face anybody else like this, I really can't. I've always looked up to you."
"I'd love to see you, honey," I told her. "How's about me wiring you plane money? Would that be okay?"
"That would be great. I'd really appreciate it."
That was where our conversation ended. A little better than one day later I was standing pensively at London Airport awaiting my sister Pamela's arrival.
You know, I just wasn't ready to see the sight of the beautiful lady who glided down the runway and walked toward me wearing a mini that gave ample opportunity for me to see her lovely legs.
Sure, she had always been good looking, but never before had I seen her dressed this stylishly. During the past year she had departed from the ranks of a cute girl and had definitely become a woman.
She waved to me joyously and broke into a trot when she saw me. As she moved ever closer to me, her face burst out in a smile, I recognized just how closely she resembled Sandy, the one girl in my life that I had truly loved.
I observed the resemblance even more closely when she was standing right on top of me. Her first act was to throw her arms around me and kiss my lips.
No sooner did her lips come into contact with mine than my penis shot out in an act of spontaneous restlessness. I wanted her so badly that I could hardly stand it, and my feelings were mixed with guilt at that point with the knowledge that she was my sister.
I kept thinking that my intense sexual feelings would leave after I had been around her awhile, but instead they grew stronger. I took the next two days off from work to show her around and give her a good time. I could sympathize with how she felt over losing the man she loved, since I had once lost somebody who meant very much to me, and it had changed the course of my entire life.
I took Pamela on a drive through the English countryside one afternoon, and after we got out of the car and took a walk, as I held her hand in mine, waves of sexual voltage bolted through my entire body. I realized that my strong feelings for her weren't about to go away anymore than my feelings for Sandy had.
I kept thinking about how strongly I felt for her all the way home, and for that reason had less to say than usual. My cock was throbbing with a sense of wild adventure, dying to let itself go and experience sexual desire to the fullest.
When we got back to my place I mixed us drinks. I just couldn't keep my eyes off those sleek legs and pendulous breasts. I could clearly see beautiful Sandy all the way, and for the first time since I lost Sandy the throbbing desires within me had been rekindled.
Finally, as my heart fluttered rapidly, I walked toward her. She put her cocktail glass down and looked at me with intense interest, wondering what I was going to do.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.
"This might be hard for you to understand," I told her solemnly as I stood within inches of her, "but I love you. I really do."
"Oh, I'm glad you're able to admit it," she smiled. "Kiss me, my dear, kiss me. If we really love each other than nothing could ever be wrong in what we do."
My arms encircled her and I pushed my hungry lips spiritedly forward. Our lips collided forcefully with great passion as our bodies shook with exhilaration.
I don't know how many times those lips converged together in the next few seconds, but I do know that by the time I finally withdrew my lips from hers my penis was so aroused that it felt like it had to explode within seconds.
"I've got to take your clothes off," I found myself boldly announcing, reacting solely through instinct, not even fully aware of what I was doing, reacting strictly out of sexual need.
"I'm all yours," she gasped, "now and forever."
Her words couldn't have been anymore positive and my blinding need for her couldn't have been greater. I continued plunging my lips against hers as I removed her clothes.
When I took off her dress, which she wiggled out of as I moved my fingers up and down briskly on the zipper, I cupped my fingers inside her bra, toying with her breasts.
While my fingers explored the sensuous flesh of her breasts my lips continued to descend upon her lips and face. All the while my cock itched desperately for contact with her.
I undid her bra, letting my tongue zero in on those creamy rich breasts, which were so much like the breasts that had belonged to Sandy when I had made love to her.
Then I pulled off her panties, letting my fingers trail down to her moist snatch. Her legs quivered as I put my fingers to work playing with her mound, which was moist with a sense of spirited adventure.
I placed my fingers around her curvaceous buttocks and slowly glided her over toward the nearest bed. She let me ease her body downward. I got ready to go to work with my dong.
As she lay there I shoved my head down between those beautiful legs, which generously parted, giving me all the latitude I could ever hope to need.
I rose my head upward and quickly began removing my clothes. When Pamela saw what I was doing she rose from the bed and walked over to where I was standing.
"Here, let me help," she insisted.
Pamela quickly took charge, working her fingers nimbly as she took my clothes off. Once she pulled off my shorts she became totally absorbed with my cock.
"What a beautiful dong," she gasped, "it's so big and strong. It's absolutely lovely. I can hardly wait to go to work on it."
The next thing I knew I was lowering my body down to the bed as Pamela's fingers pumped up and down resolutely on my huge stick. Now and then she would provide me with extra sensation by playing with my hot balls.
"I like a nice big cock," she exclaimed emphatically, "and so does my tongue. My tongue gets hypnotized by them. I just love to suck cock, especially one like yours."
"Do whatever you want," I told her, "suck it to your heart's content. Oh, have you got me excited."
As her fingers continued vigorously massaging my balls, her tongue went to work moving up and down on my prick. She began at a slow but rhythmic clip, content to take her time in the early stages of the suck, but as she got further along her efforts became increasingly brisk. The fingers continued driving themselves with a flurry against my scrotum as her tongue made steady contact with my prick.
The longer she sucked the faster she went, until she was driving that fiery tongue of hers at a fever pitch. I watched her beautiful head bob up and down at a spirited clip, her hair fluttering in the breeze as she gave me all she had.
"Oh, I love that sucking," I gasped, "keep it up, keep that tongue twirling around my prick. I love that action, go to it, I love it, suck that dick off, go after my juice."
Her fingers continued faithfully moving along my scrotum as her tongue gave my cock all the action it could take. I felt that familiar tingle in my cock and balls that always preceded orgasm.
"Just a few more strokes and I'm there," I gasped.
She took me at my word, stepping up her pace even more briskly than before as she got set to receive my load. I let out a lengthy gasp and my whole body shook as the sea of white juice shot out of the end of my restless dick.
"Oh, baby, you're the greatest," I ran my fingers through her hair.
"Then how about doing something for me."
"Just say the word."
"Go down on me, baby. Get that tongue of yours between my legs and give me a tongue bath I'll never forget."
"You make the whole thing sound so damned sexy," I laughed, gripping her breasts and grinning.
"That's what I'm trying to do."
"Well, you're gonna get your wish."
I dropped my tongue down to her breasts, letting it run over them as the searing intensity mounted within both of us. I would let my fingers start the job and then allow my tongue to move in and finish it.
I nibbled on her breasts and nibbles, leaving a prolific trail of saliva through my efforts. Her body tingled with accelerating passions as I stepped up the pace, eager to provide her with every bit of the same kind of thrills that she had provided me.
"Keep it up, keep that darting tongue going," she gasped, getting carried away with the thrill of what was happening.
When she began gasping I knew that it was time to move on to the one pleasure she sought more than anything else, that of having her cunt taken care of.
I started out by nibbling effectively on her clitoris, which got her feeling more passionate than ever. Once I got her clit reacting I switched my efforts to her cunt, letting my tongue slide diligently over every bit of her slippery mound.
She placed her fingers on my buttocks and applied finger pressure of her own, happy to give me extra satisfaction while my tongue continued blazing a hot trail over her mound.
"Oh, are you ever working me over," she gasped.
I was and was eagerly intending to do more. I shoved my index finger of my right hand inside her ass for extra support. Her body spasmed to my touch and she let out a sigh of exhilaration.
She was enjoying what I was doing for her, and wanted more. My tongue worked its way eagerly and spiritedly around that flaming, moist red pussy. I was like a magnet stuck in place, happy where I was, determined to remain there until I got what I was after.
"I'm gonna shoot, oh, yes I am, oh I'm gonna shoot," she sighed. "Go after it, go after my juices, I want to give them to you, oh."
That first explosion, which I eagerly swallowed, made me eager to go back to the sucking and get her to shoot a second time. I did, getting her off even more quickly than I had the first time around.
The session then ended as fast as it had commenced. Pamela began acting like a tired little girl. She yawned several times, draped her head atop a pillow, and fell into a deep sleep.
I suddenly began to realize how tired I was from the fantastic exercise, which drained me more emotionally than physically. I had only gone off once, but what had been really difficult was that I had been tense and fearful about making the first move with my sister, and had been holding back my fervent desires for that reason.
I dropped off to sleep and didn't awaken until morning. When I did awaken she was still sound asleep, lying there looking so innocent with her head propped up against that pillow. Her lovely nakedness immediately turned me on and my cock popped up back to where it was before we had had sex the day before.
She had incredibly smooth skin, and superb lines. Her skin was so firm, so pliable, yet soft. Her breasts stood out like two lovely melons, ripe to the touch.
I decided to just lie there and watch her until she awakened. That was precisely what I did, and it wasn't until thirty minutes or so after I awakened that she blinked her eyes open.
"Hello, beautiful," I greeted her, my cock throbbing with the keen anticipation of wanting to screw.
"Good morning."
"Have a look at this cock."
"I see it."
"You impressed by it?"
"Yes. Let's just say that I'm impressed with you period."
"That's the kind of talk I love to hear from my favorite girl in the morning."
I pressed my lips against hers fervently. Her body began to rock with vibrations of love. I withdrew my lips from hers, then kissed her a second time, followed by a third.
Once I sufficiently warmed her up through kissing her on the lips I Frenched her, letting my hungry, trembling tongue work its way inside her mouth.
Her body swayed from side to side under the steady, fervent impact of my tongue. She gasped under the steady, relentless pressure I sweepingly applied.
My fingers caressed her breasts as I removed my tongue from her mouth. I looked at her longingly.
"Do I ever wanna fuck you," I exclaimed.
"My legs are spread for you, and they'll always stay that way."
"That's what I call an open invitation."
"You've got it, honey, you've got it."
I moved my prick diligently forward and let it slide inside her hot mound. She shoved her pussy upward, meeting my spirited forward thrusts. I cupped my fingers around her buttocks cheeks as I moved back and forth, delivering a furious onslaught of sexual energy into that trim, sexy body.
The stabs accelerated as I kept the pressure on her steadily. It was my first visit inside that tight cockpit, and I wanted to see to it that there were many more. She was tight, and knew just how to manipulate those sexy hips of hers to see to it that I got just the right kind of motion to keep me extra happy.
"Can you ever fuck," she exclaimed thrillingly. "Keep up the fucking, keep driving that hot prick, I want you, I want your wonderful meat, fuck, fuck, fuck."
Her spirited words of encouragement made me all the more desirous to keep up my steady, effective pace. That supple body that was so smooth to the touch continued driving itself back and forth with every stab I put forward.
"Faster, faster," she swooned, "do it faster. Give it to me, ram that hot meat into me, I want you, I want you."
My fingers gripped her ass cheeks more tightly than before and I grunted as I shoved my body forward once more. I drove my prick into her with every ounce of sensation I could drum into myself, determined to give her the fuck of her life. "Oh, your tightness drives me wild," I gasped.
I had to admit as I fucked her that she was even tighter than Sandy had been. Not only that but she manipulated her hips in a brisk, effective manner that Sandy at her most erotic couldn't hope to match. Her sex instincts were undeniably better than those of Sandy, and for the first time since I lost Sandy and had hurled myself into a series of affairs with women who only made me think the more strongly about the girl who had got away, I found myself perfectly content with Pamela, and enjoying myself more screwing her than I could ever hope to enjoy with anybody else.
Rigidly I continued slamming my hot dick high up into her mound, driving it into her with piercing stabs as I moved ever closer to the big moment we were both anticipating.
A tremendous sensation of itchiness enveloped my cock and balls as my body trembled forward. I was determined to explode my hot prick inside her in a way she could never forget.
"Oh, I'm just about to shoot," I gasped.
"Hang on, baby, 'cause so am I."
"Oh, darling, darling."
"What a fuck you are."
I leaned forward and moved my tongue inside her mouth, letting it flick back and forth as I got set to explode my juices.
I clenched her buttocks more tightly than ever, then unleashed a steady driving spurt of semen, an avalanche of cum, into her waiting pussy. And as my cock shot I could feel the juice spurting out of her pussy. It was the kind of fuck one dreams of but seldom ever attains.
"If you weren't my own sister I'd ask you to marry me," I laughed when we finished.
"If you weren't my brother I'd accept," she grinned.
"Maybe we can't marry, but we can remain lovers."
. "That we can."
And so began a glorious love affair, the upshot of which was that Pamela moved in with me. Naturally nobody thought anything of it, since she was my sister. But if they had ever known the depths of our relationship most people would have thought plenty.
My parents actually thought it was a good idea, deciding that I might be just the stabilizing influence to tame her down a little. Wasn't that an absolute laugh? Imagine me taming her down. I was fucking the absolute life out of that tight, lively cunt between her legs.
She went to school in London, to make it look like she had other interests. But the basic interest was making love to me, and I found myself spending considerably less time with other women after she entered the scene.
My job situation still necessitated a lot of traveling, and quite often she was my charming companion. Sometimes, whenever we were in a place where I figured we weren't likely to get caught, we would register as man and wife. If I didn't want to take the chance when I was somewhere on important business, we would take separate suites.
At one point I took her with me to a business convention in Miami Beach. One afternoon as I was walking out of the hotel where the convention was staged I thought I spotted a familiar face heading toward the hotel bar.
I entered the bar and found myself face to face with an old nemesis, none other than Sandy's father. When he spotted me his face burst out into a broad grin and he shook my hand vigorously.
"Sit down, son, let me buy you a drink," he said.
I joined him at the bar, thinking about the last time I had seen him, when I had also been offered a drink. He told me that he had heard about me through some business associates, and was proud that I had made such a name for myself. Bitter thoughts returned to mind about the way he had talked to me that afternoon, which wound up changing the entire course of my life.
"How's Sandy?" I asked.
"She's just fine. The poor girl's just been divorced from her second husband. I took her on this little trip to get her mind off things. She got very good settlements both times, though. The good old California community property laws worked out to her benefit. Just a moment, son, and I'll ring her in her room. She'll be dying to meet you. By the way, are you married?"
"No I'm not."
"Good, very good," he smiled.
He made me so sick that I wanted to throw up. Before I wasn't good enough, while then he was making me feel like a king. He walked over to the nearest phone and put in a call to Sandy.
"She'll be down in a minute," he grinned as he sat back down. "She absolutely flipped when I told her who I was with."
Sandy appeared a few minutes later. The nervous anticipation that had built within me when I found out I would be meeting her again quickly vanished when I saw her. The years hadn't treated her well. Her slim, voluptuous figure had filled out inordinately, her face looked a lot older, and the once perfect complexion looked a little on the withered side. She was now what you'd call only moderately attractive, whereas she had been a knockout when I knew her.
Sandy threw herself into my arms and planted a big kiss on my lips. About that time I was so sick of both of them that I was just looking for the right opportunity to make my exit.
The opportunity came when they both asked me to spend some time in California visiting with them.
"No, I'm pretty busy," I told them coolly, getting up from the bar. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must be going. Thanks for the drink and good luck, folks."
They both stared at me dumbfoundedly as I walked off. If you don't think that gave me a lot of satisfaction then you've got another thought coming.
But since then a big dilemma has entered my life. Pamela has been dating men regularly, as one would expect, since she's as attractive as she is. I hate like hell to stop her, and want what's best for her, which means getting married if that's what she wants.
I must admit, though, that I get jealous as hell when she goes out with somebody else, and even though I know it would be in my best interest to find somebody else and get married, I'm absolutely hooked on my sister.
Even though she still consents to having sex with me, I can tell that she's starting to get jumpy about it, thinking that maybe I want to cling to her. And she's absolutely right, since that's really what I'd like to do.
I even took a trip to Spain a few months ago without her in hopes of shaking this terrible crush I have on her. I had sex with a few girls there, including a good looking young divorcee from New York City who was there on vacation.
But when all was said and done I wound up thinking about Pamela back in London, and sometimes I'd think so long and hard in the privacy of my room that I'd have to jack off to get the passions out of my system.
Since this dilemma started plaguing me I've found myself spending less time on business and more time worrying. I wish you could help me out of this bind.
SUMMARY I told Edward that what had drawn him to his sister was the resemblance he felt she bore to the girl who had forsaken him. The tragic loss of Sandy had upset the balance of his life.
But the tragedy had, in addition to affecting him adversely, caused Edward to throw himself intensively into business, achieving great success as a result.
I liked his fascination for his sister with a Adam eating of forbidden fruit. Once he got accustomed to the fruit he didn't want to give it up.
I advised him that, if he ever hoped to find someone to get serious about and marry he would have to make a clean break with Pamela. Only by taking such a sharp step would he free his psyche from the pangs of desire he felt toward her.
Edward agreed with me and promised that he would do just that.
Several months ago I received a letter from him in Paris, where he was staying on business. He told me that he had made such a break and that both he and his sister had found romance with devoted partners.
CHAPTER THREE
Kenneth K. is a striking young man in his twenties who has hung up a profound mark in the world of professional tennis.
His tennis activities take him all over the world, where he achieves excellent earnings for tournament and exhibition competitions. Tall, wiry, and energetic, I met him at a vacation sight in Palm Springs last year, at a time when I was seeking relaxation and he was sharpening up his tennis game for a future national barnstorming tour.
I met him on the tennis court, where he was, quite naturally, performing on an infinitely higher level than I was. He was kind enough to give me a few professional pointers on how to improve my game. I was so grateful that I invited him to dinner that evening in the hotel dining room of the place where we were both staying.
Kenneth proved highly conversational, demonstrating a ready wit and overall articulateness. When I informed him of my line of work he told me of an incident that he would like to tell me. His only stipulation was that I keep the actual identities of the story's actors a secret. Otherwise, he told me, I would be free to use my story as I saw fit.
I agreed to his terms and he told me the following story when we got back to my room for a nightcap, recorded via tape: I was a regular little hellcat when I was young. I mean, when I was growing up. About the time I entered junior high I really started becoming impossible.
My father was saddled with the chore of bringing up me and my younger brother alone. He had broken up with my mother many years ago and had battled her for custody of my brother Tom and I, succeeding. Dad had pretty bitter memories of Mom, so much so that he never said anything about her.
The only time we'd ever hear from her would be on my birthday or Tom's, or during the Christmas season, when she would send the two of us gifts. Dad would always march into the room with a sour, begrudging expression on his face and say: "This is from your mother." By the time I reached junior high age and acquired a few smarts, I started piecing together a few facts about what Mom was like. I understand that she was a completely different temperament than Dad, who was always so thorough and businesslike, as befitted his position as an administrator for a school district. Mom, I heard from people who had known her and from the few relatives who would mention her, was a party girl and loved nothing better than a good time. Since I was just a tot not quite three when she split up with Dad, and my brother was even younger than that, there wasn't much about her that we could remember. That is, except for one thing. I do remember, even at that early age, that she was very beautiful, a fact that was clearly confirmed by others who had known her.
Anyway, getting back to what started happening to me when I was in junior high, I remember one time during the summer, while Dad was away for a day at a convention a few miles out of town demonstrating audiovisual aids for use in school classrooms, that I was at home alone.
Dad, being silly, as he sometimes was, was concerned about me being at home alone in the evening. Tom, you see, was away at summer camp at the time.
So the way he solved what he considered a problem was an absolute riot. He had Sarah, a girl who lived across the street from us who, at seventeen, was three years older than I was, come over and baby sit with me. When I heard about that I absolutely roared with laughter. Actually, though, thinking it over now and knowing how weirdly distrustful Dad could be, I think he had her over because he just plain didn't trust me being in the house by myself. He figured I was liable to pull something, or maybe throw a wild beer bust and invite all the kids of my age group in the neighborhood.
Anyway, no sooner did I finish the TV dinner I had prepared for myself that night than the front doorbell rang. I went to get it and there was Sarah standing there. She looked a little embarrassed about the whole thing, and when I burst into laughter as I let her in it made things even worse.
"Are you going to look out for me, Sarah?" I laughed after she got inside and sat on the sofa.
"Please, Ken, let's not joke about this," she turned her head away in embarrassment.
To make things even funnier, I was a pretty big kid by then, while Sarah, who was as cute a redhead as you could find, was very short and petite. Not only that, but she had a sweet baby face that made her look younger than she really was.
She turned on the television set first thing after getting into the front room, figuring that she'd brave what might otherwise be a very dull evening watching the tube.
While she engrossed herself in some lousy B movie starring Frank Lovejoy I engrossed myself watching Sarah. It was a warm evening and she wore cream-colored shorts that showed off the curves in her ass cheeks beautifully. My eyes then wandered up to that white blouse, which stuck out so firmly at the tits.
Sarah was really stacked, and the longer I stood there in the hallway watching her, the harder my cock became. By that time I'd had a few experiences with girls, even though my naive old man didn't know about it. Most of them were older than me, and in most cases they had sucked off my cock, which I absolutely loved as a form of sex pleasure.
Also, I was at that age where a kid is getting extra hot for the first time, and when I didn't have an available playmate to go down on me I'd often pump away on my hard dick until the sea of white juice would gush out of the end of it.
I got so hot just standing there watching Sarah that I knew I'd have to obtain release of one kind or another. I thought about going to the bathroom and jerking my prick off over the toilet bowl, as I often did as a means of alleviating sex tensions, but somehow that seemed like a damned waste, what with this beautiful creature sitting right in the front room and all.
But if I tried to seduce her I knew I'd be taking quite a risk. But, then again, when it came to sex, it was the risks that made me the most desirous of participating. The risks coupled with the thrills I would get from conquering them and obtaining the satisfaction that I wanted.
I decided that I would make the effort to seduce her. Then I started contemplating strategy, attempting to decide the best means of bringing it off. I thought about taking her through shock, by walking into the room with my hard dick in my fingers, running my hand up and down it. It was a tactic I had employed a few times in the past, sometimes successfully.
But I figured that such a strategy would not be the best to employ with Sarah. She'd be the type, I figured, who would blow her cool, and I didn't want that.
No, I decided that it would be better to adopt a subtle approach, and with that thought in mind I went into the living room and sat down in a chair not far away from the sofa.
"Is it a good movie?" I asked her with a smile.
"It's okay," she shrugged. "Nothing great, nothing real bad. It's better than just sitting around."
As I got another look at those lovely boobs and those sleek legs, I decided to abandon my subtle pitch, mainly because I felt I was too hot to last very long.
"I can think of more interesting things to do," I said with a broad grin as I walked over to the sofa.
"Just what do you have in mind?" she straightened up startledly, looking into my eyes with mounting alarm.
"Relax, I just wanna have a little fun."
"Oh, Ken, please don't. What would your father say."
"To hell with him," I chuckled fiendishly. "He's not here so why bring him up?"
"Please, let's not have any problems."
"Oh, shut up. Don't be silly."
I took her by surprise by grabbing her and pulling her beautiful trim body toward me. I smothered her with a series of rapid-fire kisses as she gasped and attempted to struggle free.
But fortunately for me I was a pretty strong kid and she was unable to fight me off. As I continued showering kisses against her lips I slipped my fingers fervently inside her blouse and bra, working them against the firm flesh of her tits.
Her tits proved to be music to my fingers, arousing me all the more. After putting up one hell of a struggle in an attempt to free herself from my pursuits, Sarah finally began to weaken, adopting a position of greater subservience as my fingers continued exploring her breasts.
I finally managed to work my way inside her mouth. At that point her resistance suddenly weakened, and I could tell that she was really beginning to dig the sensations I was supplying.
We Frenched ardently, and my pulse pounded with accelerated passion as my tongue slipped fondly over hers. I loved the touch of her tongue, the intimate contact of tongue pressing against tongue while my fingers continued gliding around her breasts.
My cock became so itchy that I could hardly stand kissing her and playing with her breasts anymore. I released my tongue from her mouth and my fingers from her breasts, reaching down quickly with anxious fingers and unzipping my trousers.
I felt proud when I unzipped my pants and my hard, elongated dick fell completely free. I reached out and grabbed it proudly, holding it up for Sarah to see. By then her face had turned red from all the sudden impassioned excitement and her eyes widened with a look combining elements of fear and arousal.
"What are you going to do, Ken?" she asked.
"I want you to suck this. Doesn't it look delicious?"
"Please, Ken, let's not go that far. Please."
I grabbed her arms and held them tightly. I grinned broadly and inquired, "You mean you've never sucked a guy off before? A pretty gal like you who's so popular at school. C'mon now, you can't really look me in the eye and tell me you've never blown a guy before now, can you? How about that sailor you were going with last summer, I suppose you didn't do stuff with him."
"Those are my personal affairs," she pouted.
"Ah, c'mon. You don't have to tell me details of what you've done with other guys. It's just that I know you've sucked some guys off. I just know it."
"Okay, okay," she said in a choked voice. "I have. But I didn't want to do it to you."
"Why, don't I have a beautiful cock?"
"Yes, you do," she admitted reluctantly, dropping her head. "That's not it. It's just that it isn't right for us to do it. It just isn't."
"Why, because my old man appointed you my baby sitter?" I burst into sardonic laughter, pushing my head forward and kissing her lips one more time.
"Please don't joke about it," she begged.
"I don't want to joke about anything. I just want a good cock suck to get my rocks off. They're itching like hell and you're just the gal to do something about it."
I reached down with my fingers and placed them solidly against her head, holding her head in place. I slumped down on the sofa and spread my legs, then forced her down toward the rug with the pressure I exerted with my fingers.
She groaned a few times, like I was forcing her to do something she really didn't want to do, but I could see when she stopped struggling that she really wanted to suck me off and didn't have the heart to admit it to herself.
Pretty soon her knees were perched against the rug and her head was resting in my lap. I reached down and fondled my precious cock with my fingers and extended it downward toward her mouth.
"I'm gonna feed you a little dick," I beamed radiantly. "Take it and suck on it, 'cause you're really gonna enjoy it."
Up and down she began pumping, moving very slowly at first as she picked up the tempo of what she was doing. She picked up the sucking range in no time, and I loosened the pressure on her head as she kept accentuating her brisk efforts.
"Grab ahold of my balls and play with them at the same time that you're sucking my dick," I told her fervently as the sexual tension mounted inside me. My breathing became heavier and that magnificent itchiness in the dong and balls that always accompanies a good cock suck surfaced readily. "That's it, grab those balls and play with them, they like the action."
I could see readily that she was an experienced hand at sucking cock, and my knees began trembling with excitement as she pumped up and down on my spear.
She sucked at a brisk, resolute clip. The longer she kept it up the more anxious I could see that she was becoming to get my hot rocks off in her mouth.
"Suck that rod," I gasped, "go after my hot juice, baby, suck that big cock dry, do it, suck it."
Up and down she kept up the pumping. My balls swelled with passion from her finger massaging, while my dick swelled with anxiety as it neared climax.
Sarah drove herself forward until I began gasping noticeably and my entire body began quaking. She took it as a cue to suck all the faster, knowing I was nearing the big moment we were both awaiting.
"Suck it out, suck it all out, every drop of my juice, all of that hot white sea, go get it," I called out to her sexily.
My words made her all the hungrier for my cum as she ran her tongue eagerly up and down my dong.
She let out a gasp and made a gurgling sound as the sea of white shot out of the end of my hot stick and into her mouth. Just as I was enjoying the sublime sensation of having a gorgeous girl lick out the juice from my itchy dong, in walked my father, showing up unexpectedly early.
"Great God," he gasped, his face turning white as he watched Sarah jerk her head upward from my cock.
Sarah looked so embarrassed that, had she been able to crawl in the woodwork at that point, she would have. But she wasn't so lucky. Instead she would have to face my father.
"You, young lady, are a great disappointment," my father shrieked after standing there speechless for a few seconds. "I bring you over here and pay you good money to take care of my wayward son, this unspeakable little varmint, and look what happens."
"Don't blame her, Dad," I sprang instantly to her defense. "I forced her into it."
"From what I saw when I walked in here, she didn't look like she had been forced into anything."
"No, but she fought like hell in the beginning," I argued. "I'm not kidding one bit. I forced her, so if you're gonna blame anybody, then blame me."
"Just don't think I was planning on freeing you from blame in the first place," he said sharply. Then he turned to Sarah and said: "As for you, young lady, you can go now. I'd appreciate being alone with my son."
Sarah nodded as tears began streaming down her face. She was speechless, and was no doubt just as happy to be leaving at that point, rather than having to listen to anymore of my father's tirade.
No sooner did Sarah shut the front door behind her than my father walked toward me, lifted his open right hand, and delivered three quick slaps to my face.
I stood there and took them without flinching. Then he backed off and shook his head disgustedly.
"I've got to do something to keep you occupied properly," he exclaimed. "You've got entirely too much time to yourself."
Dad went right to work the following day to get me a job, figuring that the work ethic was just the kind of proper discipline that I needed at that point.
He used his contacts at the school board to get me a job working at a tennis court of a high school playground. At first I hated the tedious chore of checking out tennis racquets to people, and chasing down lost tennis balls.
But things worked out in my favor in the final analysis, since that job was what got me introduced to tennis in a big way. Whenever things lagged and there wasn't that much for me to do I would get out a racquet and take to the courts.
I got acquainted with quite a few of the high school tennis stars attending the school where I was working. They were kind enough to give me pointers and let me play with them.
I guess that tennis is the one thing that came natural to me, along, that is, with screwing women. I developed my talents rapidly in the game and before I knew it I was holding my own or beating guys that played all the time.
From there I was just one step away from competition, and I began competing in local tournaments by the time my tenure at the playground was drawing to a close.
By the time I finished high school I was one of the top amateur players in the country. I started traveling all over the nation, then all over the world, to compete in competitions, winning most of them.
Needless to say, I maintained a steady rapport with a number of female tennis players. I liked the fact that most of the ones I knew were built like brick shithouses. I mean, they kept themselves in excellent physical condition and their bodies showed it. I loved those trim, tan legs they sported and the well-developed breasts.
One time after I had copped a big tournament in San Francisco, I was interviewed extensively by reporters after my match. Also being interviewed was the girls' singles winner, a nineteen-year-old little brown-eyed beauty named Yvonne, who had the longest pair of trim legs you ever saw. All the guys on the amateur circuit were nuts about her, and they used to make jokes about watching her matches and having to beat their meat at the same time.
Yvonne sat hunched up on a Coke machine, wearing a pair of tan slacks and a tight blouse. She had already taken her shower and was relaxing when they started shooting the questions at both of us.
When the questioning ended and the reporters vanished from the scene I was left alone with Yvonne. I liked the way she talked, with just a faint trace of a Southern accent, due to the fact that she came from a border state.
"Say, I watched part of your match," I told her. "You did very well. I like your style."
"Thank you," she smiled demurely. "I watched all of your match and I think you just play superbly."
"You know, you look absolutely gorgeous."
"Thank you, honey."
I decided to make a move right there, since by that time the reporters had all scurried off toward their phones or back to their offices, whichever the case.
So I moved forward and planted a solid impactful kiss on her lips. She held her breath and willingly received it, throwing her arms around me tightly, which clued me in as to how much she wanted action right then and there. After a long, hard tennis match with a tough opponent I was ready for something on the lighter side to relax my cock and balls.
"Let's go into my dressing room," I whispered to her longingly after breaking our kiss.
"I'd love to," she nodded.
My heart pounded with exhilaration when we walked together into the dressing room. I led her over to the rubbing table, which would give us sufficient room in which to engage in sex.
I went to work immediately undressing her, unhooking her blouse, pulling it off, then going to work on her bra, which I also removed swiftly.
The moment I finished peeling off her bra I just had to put my tongue and fingers to work on her tits. I cupped my fingers around her breasts, then thrust my head between them, sucking and nibbling on them as she gasped and writhed with exhilaration.
"Oh, finish undressing me," she gasped, "do it quick before I have to shoot my juice."
I took off her slacks, then pulled her panties off, letting them run quickly down those trim, lithe legs that I longed to touch. I ran my fingers over her smooth gams, then let my head drop quickly between her legs.
"Go down on me," she begged urgently, "I've just got to have you suck me off. I need you. Oh, my twat is itching, baby, suck me, suck my cunt dry."
Her body was trembling uncontrollably as I sank my head down between her legs and went to work with a flourish. My teeth nibbled on her clit several times, and as I nibbled her entire body rocked on the table as she was overcome with passionate excitement.
I drove my tongue at a systematic pace, working toward that orgasm that I looked forward to. I pushed my tongue around in her moist box zealously, and the longer I sucked the more violently the table shook from her quivering body movements.
"Just keep it up a few more strokes," she gasped, "keep it up and I'll feed you my stuff. Oh, baby, can you suck cunt."
Her trigger finally exploded in my mouth, and was I ever happy to gobble up her juices. I gasped and my heart fluttered as I stuck with my efforts. Finally I swallowed all of her and was more than happy that I had.
"Oh, that was beautiful," she smiled triumphantly. "I needed that one, baby, and now I'm going to pay you back by giving you a good suck."
She proceeded to undo my tennis shorts, then pull my still sweaty shirt off of me.
"You must have lost a ton out there in that sun," she laughed at one point as she experienced difficulty pulling off my shirt.
Once the shirt and pants were off all she had to do was get me out of my shorts, an effort I cooperated in fully. When she finished she sank her head between my legs and began licking my balls, moving her tongue in a smooth yet rapid manner.
As she sucked my testicles she ran her fingers up and down the base of my prong. Between the two movements I became so stimulated that I could hardly stand it.
"Tell you what," she suggested with a smile. "If you want to suck my cunt while I'm going down on your cock then you'll get that much better a cock lick. When I'm getting it between my legs with a hot man's tongue and I'm really happy, I'm that much more effective."
I took her at her word. I wouldn't have disputed her at anything at that point, so anxious was I to please her and get my cock juices released at the same time.
I gasped with exhilaration as I put my tongue to work like radar on that sizzling box of hers. Back and forth my tongue slid while her tongue manipulated skillfully over my dick.
Between the two of us we just about tore that rubbing table we were sharing to shreds. It rocked back and forth ever which way as we sucked to our heart's content.
While I was well on my way toward a brilliant climax she shoved a hot finger up my asshole, letting it move with rapid-fire effectiveness as the sucking continued at an explosive pace.
I decided to shove my finger up into her asshole to give myself the same type of magnificent pleasure. Our bodies rocked, swaying from side to side, under the pressure of our efforts.
Now it was just a question of when we would shoot our wads. The big moment came and we ended up exploding at the same dramatic instant. So as she went after the hot juice that steamed out of my prick she bolted her juices into my mouth.
"Another delightful suck," she clapped her hands gleefully, like a playful little girl.
We finished our sex action at that point, but it wasn't the last time we would be getting together. We met at several other tournaments before I turned pro and she retired from tennis to marry the boy from back home. I just hope she never told him about us, or maybe the guy would want to kill me.
All I can say is that, even though I didn't get a chance to shoot my rocks off in her cockpit that first time, I did by the time we were through having sex together.
Not only did Yvonne get more than her share of action from me, but so did a lot of other cute girls on the scene. It's just that she stands out because of her exceptional looks and the kind of action she was capable of giving me.
When I turned pro and became a big name, and started earning plenty of money, the girls were coming at me so furiously that I had to shake a stick at them to keep them off of me. Yes, you'd have to say that I was definitely leading the charmed life.
In fact, I had things going so well on that score that that's undoubtedly the reason why I haven't been married to date. Hell, when I can get all the stimulating pussy I want, why should I restrict myself to one person?
Anyhow, when I really started going great guns as a pro tennis player I started getting wires of congratulations after big tournament victories from my mother. I'd ask my father about her, but he wouldn't say much of anything. In fact, most of the time when I asked anything about her he would do nothing but snort sarcastically. There was something sticking pretty deeply in his claw about her.
I noticed that she was living just outside Mexico City. I was acquainted with the town because I competed in an amateur tournament not far from it at one time.
My curiosity really started getting the better of me about her. I just had to see my mother, particularly after the nice wires and letters she started sending me when I'd win big tournaments. Sometimes she would add that she had seen me on television, which made me happy.
One time after I finished a tournament season with a victory in New York I decided to take a plane to Mexico City and find my mother.
It was a delightful plane excursion, and I was pleased to find out that at least two people on the flight knew of my reputation, since they had me sign autographs for them.
I got off the plane at Mexico City and took a bus to the little town where I hoped to find my mother. It was a pleasant jaunt in the afternoon sun, and we arrived at our destination in little more than two hours from the time we started.
When I got to the local post office I asked about my mother. The man who operated the postal station nodded with immediate recognition when I inquired.
"Si, si, you are her son, the famous tennis player," he grinned.
"That's right."
"Maybe you would be so kind."
He shoved a piece of paper and pen at me and I nodded, complying with his autograph wish. Then he gave me explicit directions on how to reach her house.
Since she lived only a few blocks from the post office where I received my information, I decided to walk. It was a bright, warm afternoon and I was just as happy to get some exercise.
It was pleasing to discover as I neared the place he had described that I was entering an exclusive area with beautiful houses. It appeared as if my mother had made the grade from that standpoint.
When I finally reached the Spanish-styled home with the red tile that the man at the post office had described, I was tremendously impressed, since it was one of the largest and most impressive places I had ever seen in all my trips through Mexico.
I knocked at the front door several times, receiving no answer. I was just about to go away for the time being in frustration when all of a sudden I heard some noises coming from the backyard.
I walked around to the side to investigate and found two people taking a swim in a huge pool, whose aqua waters looked so inviting that I felt like jumping in myself.
The woman had radiant black hair and as beautiful a body as any I had ever seen. In fact it looked so good that the first thing I said to myself was that it was even superior to that of Yvonne.
She had trim legs that tapered down to perfection, with the trimmest ankles I had ever seen. Her breasts were larger than those of Yvonne, and appeared just as firm, while her ass looked as tight and seductive as any I had ever seen inside the white bikini bottom she wore.
With her splashing in the pool, was a handsome, olive-skinned young Mexican.
I walked over toward them and called out, asking if they knew where my mother was. I seriously wondered whether I had been giving the right place by the man at the post office.
"Why would you like to see her?" the woman surveyed me with intelligent eyes, getting out of the water.
As she walked toward me I started getting good and horny from looking at her stunning face and form. I explained that I was her son.
The woman looked at me momentarily. Then she burst into laughter and broke into a trot toward me.
"Is that my big boy? Sure it is," she squealed excitedly, running toward me and planting a big kiss on my lips.
First of all I could hardly believe that she was my mother. She looked so incredibly youthful that it was inconceivable that she was once married to my father. She looked more like his daughter at a glance, particularly at a distance, due to her schoolgirlish figure.
As for her face, it was still beautiful up close, but there were a few lines observable, so that she didn't look quite as youthful as she did a few feet away.
Even if she was my mother, my cock stuck out straight and tall when she kissed me. She threw her arms around me and led me into the house as the Mexican man got out of the pool. She stopped at the back door and said: "Juan, fix us some iced tea."
"Si," Juan nodded, walking behind us toward the house. We chatted rapidly as we had some tea. She told me about the last time she had seen me, and confided that she had married a wealthy Mexican politician after she divorced Dad. The Mexican, from whom she had since been divorced, receiving the house she was living in, had been an ambassador for his country, enabling her to travel with him to foreign ports. That explained why my brother and I had received gifts from different countries from her.
Now the mystery was being pieced gradually together, and as I sat there I couldn't help but admire the spunky woman sitting before me. She was so lovely and so youthful in form and manner that it was still incredibly hard to adjust to the fact that she was my mother.
Once we finished tea she instructed Juan to fix us a Mexican lunch of chile and tamales. He was apparently her faithful valet, judging by the responsibilities he undertook.
Even though I tried not to be intimidated, I found myself catching peeks of my mother's voluptuous tits as I sat across the table from her. They looked so creamy and smooth, so ripe to the touch, that my fingers itched with intrigue. How I would love to put my fingers to work on those boobs, I kept thinking, even though it made me guilty to do so, since she was my mother, and I hadn't seen her in years.
Following lunch she insisted that we have some tequila. I don't have to tell you how powerful that stuff is. Well, we kept sipping it until we were both barely able to sit up. Juan, in the meantime, excused himself from our presence, informing mother that he would be going into town to do some shopping.
The inhibitions started leaving me and my staring at mother's tits became more noticeable. If she minded it even one solitary bit she never said anything to me about it.
"Come with me, my dear," she suddenly got up from the table, her legs only a little unsteady, motioning to me.
I followed her, it turned out, into the bedroom, and the first thing she did was draw the drapes. I couldn't get over what was going on. If it weren't for the fact that I was with my mother, whom I hadn't seen in years, I would have thought that she was putting the make on me.
After she drew the drapes she rolled back the sheets on the bed. I watched her do it, my cock hardening, wondering if maybe, in spite of the fact that I was her son, she was planning to seduce me into sex.
She finished rolling back the sheets, then took off her bikini, standing before me sexily with her hands placed on her hips, looking naked and liberated.
"Join me in bed, darling," she said softly, lowering her naked form into the bed.
She had the most gorgeous breasts you could ever imagine, and my eyes were hypnotized by their awesome presence. I stood there looking at her dumbfoundedly for a few seconds.
"Well, come on, dear," she finally coaxed gently. "Get those clothes off and get into bed with me. I'll bet you're some kind of stud. I'll say one thing. You sure are handsome."
I got off my clothes quickly, and when she took her first look at my hard dick she let out a gasp.
"Wow, I knew you'd be well hung," she said with confidence.
Her legs flipped from side to side and her fingers went to work toying with her twat as I got into bed.
She threw her arms around me and delivered a frantic French kiss inside my mouth. She took me by surprise. Most of the women I had made love to, even the ones who were wild between the sheets, usually let me do the leading. But Mom was so hot for action that she took the initiative right away.
Several kisses later she came up with an idea.
"Let's jerk each other," she said. "It's a good way to get both of us even hotter than we already are."
She quickly demonstrated her point by letting her fingers travel up and down the length of my hot dong. I began tingling all over, and retaliated quickly with action of my own, letting my fingers maneuver around inside her snatch.
We set a blazing pace with our finger exercises, sending pangs of sensation bolting through our bodies.
Once we managed to steam each other up, it was time for us to go on to the torrid sucking we were both eager to do. She sank her tongue against my cock, and as she slid up and down my lengthy pole she put her fingers to work on my balls.
As her tongue set a blistering pace on my stick my tongue set its sights on her already moist vagina. I let my tongue scatter diligently along her hairy next while she continued probing up and down my hot dick with her tongue.
Mom couldn't hold back very long. She spurted inside my mouth. As I eagerly caught her load my dick got all the hotter, and all the more eager to be eaten by her.
She drove her tongue at a frenzied clip as she realized how close I was to exploding, making her determination based on the way that my legs shook.
As Mom shot a second time, my cock exploded in her mouth. As I finished eating her I looked up and observed her hungrily dissolving my cock juices. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and never had I encountered anyone more eager to catch my load.
"I'll bet you'd like to fuck me again," she grinned after we had finished sixty-nining.
"What do you have in mind?"
"You'll see," she smiled. "But first off I wanna get that big cock right up there where it was before."
Her fingers went to work once more, probing diligently around my prick and balls, eager to get my prick up to full length. As it immediately began bouncing up lengthily, she ran her tongue along it several times to provide me with extra enthusiasm.
Once it was up there she spread her legs and stretched out on the bed. I watched as she propped a pillow underneath her cute, tight ass, which had tantalized me right from the outset.
"I feel like something very daring, very provocative," she threw her beautiful head back and laughed. "How about you?"
"I'm with you."
"I figured you'd be," she nodded. "I want you to stick that hot pecker of yours up my ass. I only want it from the hottest of men, and that's exactly what you are."
Her words of praise only served to make me more excited about getting involved with her, in giving her just the kind of satisfaction that she wanted.
I had only fucked a very few women up the ass. Only the most daring of the women I had known wanted it. Most of them, and forgive me for coining a weak pun, but they considered it to be no more than a pain in the ass.
Well, Mom was different. She wanted thrills any way that she could get them. That is, in the highly erotic sense. I guess that was one of the big reasons why we had gotten along so well from the very beginning that afternoon when we first met.
"You want me to lube my dick?" I asked her before I started.
"Nah, I'm no sissy," she laughed. "Sock it to me just the way it is. That's how I want it."
I took my cock in my fingers and stroked it a little, happy with the feel of it. Then I rammed it forward and pierced the insides of her hot ass.
She squeezed her legs together to provide greater tightness for me, then let out a swoon as I drove my dick in and out of her several times in rapid succession.
"Oh, you're really pumping that thing into me," she sighed, "it's in me nice and deep, just the way I like it, fuck me, honey, fuck me, keep that cock coming."
Nothing was about to stop me by that point. I was determined to keep right on pumping until I finally exploded. I'll say this for her, that ass was every bit as tight and intriguing as it had appeared to be when I got a first glimpse of it.
I kept right on shoving my dick high up into it as her buttocks cheeks shifted with my every movement, determined to provide all the extra impetus she could bring to bear.
"Go to it, baby, go to it," she encouraged.
"Oh, you're tight," I exclaimed.
As I moved ever closer to explosion I began slapping her buttocks cheeks. The friction of skin coming into contact with skin spurred both of us on toward greater heights.
"I'm gonna shoot my stuff right up that ass," I gasped.
"Do it, do it, I want it."
"You're gonna get it."
"Oh, are you a tiger."
Steadily I kept grinding my rapier dick inside her as she twisted and turned and in every way thoroughly enjoyed what I was doing to her. With every deep, piercing thrust I felt my cock and balls tingling a little more noticeably than before, and pushing me ever closer to the big moment when I would explode.
I watched the juice bolt out of her pussy as the excitement became too much for her. It got me all the more excited as I drove diligently toward a climax.
"Cream me, cream me," she begged, observing how close I was to completion of the act.
As I drew ever nearer, I took a deep breath and clenched her buttocks cheeks as I got set to explode.
"Oh, this is it, oh," I sighed as the hot juice bolted out of me.
Mom kicked her legs back and forth with glee as the juice she had sought poured into her pussy lining.
"I'm proud of my boy," she giggled. "He's quite a fuck."
"So are you," I patted her ass cheeks.
A few minutes after I exploded up her ass, as we lay naked in the bedroom talking, the front door opened and into the house came Juan, who carried groceries into the kitchen.
"Hey, Juan baby," Mom called out. "Come in here. I'd like to see my handsome senor."
Juan walked quickly into the bedroom. At first I was shocked to have him discover me lying in a compromising position in bed with my own mother. But when I saw how calmly he was taking the whole thing I felt differently.
"Yes. What would you like," Juan bowed politely.
"I'd like to have a look at that cock of yours."
"Very good," he nodded calmly.
From the way Juan was acting I had to assume that anything and everything went around the household. The more that I observed the easier it was to see why Mom had not gotten along well with Dad. They represented two distinctly different life styles.
Juan took off his clothes without batting an eye, giving me the distinct impression that he was accustomed to servicing Mom's sex needs. Once he got all his clothes off and showed her his hard prick, her face came alive with delight.
"That's what I call a good cock," she nodded. "Come over here and let me give it the attention it deserves."
I slipped over toward the edge of the bed so that I wouldn't be standing in the way of their sex activities. Juan sprawled out in the middle of the bed and Mom made an anxious grab for his dong, driving her tongue against his balls as his legs twisted with erotic anxiety.
She bathed his testicles in her juicy saliva for the next few minutes as they swelled with arousal. Then she began running her tongue up and down his dong, using long, sweeping strokes.
The next thing I knew I found myself standing up, my peter swelling with excitement as I watched Mom do an excellent job of running her tongue up and down his prick sweepingly while her fingers caressed his testicles.
Juan's cock began thrusting back and forth excitedly under the thunderous attack of her tongue, which was jet-propelled with enthusiasm and ready to collect every precious drop of cum that came out of him.
Finally I could watch no longer without somehow participating. I began running my fingers up and down my long pecker as the itchy urge to shoot off my cock once more hit.
Just as I began to really pick up the tempo with my finger movements, I watched Juan shut his eyes and let out a huge gasp. I stared at the end of his prick and watched the thick white stuff ooze out of it, filling Mom's mouth.
"Very good, my love," she nodded, slapping his buttocks playfully after the suck ended. Then she looked over at me. "I can see you're ready again, baby. Okay, I want you. Come over here and give me the chance to suck you off."
I walked over toward her and she picked up a towel that was lying on the bed.
"I'll just clean up this cock a little, that was inside my asshole a few minutes ago," she said in a brisk, business-like tone, cleaning my prick thoroughly, then putting the towel down.
This time it was Juan who sat on the sidelines as Mom went immediately to work on my prick. She seemed to have an insatiable thirst for hot male cock, and even though there were other activities she liked as well, such as the aforementioned ass fuck, cocksucking seemed to be her first love.
Those fingers of hers worked a magic all their own on my cock and balls, and this time around she wanted to take her time, to run her fingers briskly over my cock and balls while the torrid tempo built inside us both.
Once the finger massaging had achieved its ends she went to work with that sweeping tongue of hers, running her fingers over my balls to keep them perfectly content, and sliding her tongue up and down my cock with speedy movements.
This time I was unable to contain myself for very long. She pushed me right to the brink immediately, and I spurted juice in no time at all, after which she turned loose of me and returned to Juan, who was ready for another round.
She kept that busy head of hers bobbing up and down until Juan shot his load one more time. Then she was finally ready to do something other than suck cock.
"Tell you what, honey," she pointed at me. "Why don't you go down on my snatch and suck me off."
I was more than happy to pay her that honor, getting her pussy to bolt a few strokes into the act.
That marked the end of all the sex for the evening, and we spent the rest of the night engaged in interesting conversation. I found it hard to believe what I had been through, that my own mother had milked my cock almost practically dry.
My legs were so stiff and rubbery when I went to bed that I felt I'd be sleeping for the next two days. I didn't, but I did sleep until late the following morning.
You know, I stayed with Mom for two weeks, and left feeling like I'd never fuck again. She took that much juice out of me. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's just that, when it was all said and done, I wondered about the whole thing. I wondered about whether it was really right to screw with my own mother like that."- What made it even more weird was that in many ways she didn't even seem like my mother. As I mentioned before, she looked exceptionally young for the role with the way that she had preserved herself. And, in addition, I hadn't seen her for a long time, which naturally gave her, at times, the appearance of a beautiful young stranger.
As for her active propensity for cocksucking, she just couldn't get enough of it from me or anybody else. Not only was she frequently pumping up and down on my cock or Juan's, she had Juan bring other young men around, giving them the same kind of brisk tongue workouts.
At one point when we were alone sipping wine in the darkness of evening, Mom confided something to me: "You know, it's this active sex life that keeps me young, I'm just convinced of it. Those juices that I get out of the cocks of young men like you provide me with wonderful protein, and the challenge of finding a new cock and a hot cock helps keep me going. Of course, my two husbands didn't quite see those points the same way I did. Your father in particular. Miguel, my second husband, wasn't as understanding as he could have been about my needs either. He turned his head a few times rather than precipitate friction with me, but eventually he dragged everything out into the open and told me that either my varied activities would have to cease or he wanted a divorce. Well, I'm willing to compromise on a lot of things, but not when it comes to my sex desires."
I haven't been back to see my mother since that trip. I've been kind of afraid of getting involved with her again. She's so excellent at sucking cock that I could easily see myself getting hooked on her and wanting to spend a lot of time with her.
Maybe I'll go back some day. I just don't know. There's one thing for sure, though, and that's that if I do, I'm gonna be rested, well rested. She really puts a man's cock through the mill. I don't think it's possible for any one man to satisfy her for any length of time.
SUMMARY Kenneth's mother had an insatiable lust for sex, particularly of an oral nature.
Many women maintain the attitude that lots of sex keeps them young, as was the contention with Kenneth's mother. In occupying herself with fellatio to a large degree, she is not forced to exert as much pressure on her own system. It is the other party that is expelling juices, into her.
It is understandable why Kenneth's father was not inclined to speak about his ex-wife, considering her active propensities for multi-sex activities. He did not want to expose his son to such a situation. His previous relationship with Kenneth's mother could also be the reason why he adopted such a strict pattern in bringing up Kenneth.
CHAPTER FOUR
Christine H. came to my office beset by a serious problem. A beautiful blonde with well-chiseled features and a sensitive facial expression, Christine looked troubled the first time she talked to me.
I felt that the only thing that would bring her out of her troubled state would be leveling with me, getting her problem off her chest, and giving me an opportunity to grapple with it.
When I stated the importance of drawing herself out, she agreed, expressing a willingness to clear the air. She expressed herself very well and highly candidly. Recorded on tape is Christine's story, as related to me by her: My parents were divorced when I was just a little girl, and I lived with my mother in a fashionable New York apartment, where every conceivable monetary need was taken care of.
As for my father, he was a wealthy and famous movie actor, and I found myself learning more about him through seeing his movies and reading about him in movie magazines and newspaper stories, I'm very sorry to say.
On the screen he was always playing some kind of dashing hero. He was depicted as so sophisticated and suave, as just the kind of man a girl would like to have as a husband or father. My friends at school would always tell me how lucky I was to have a father like that, which made me want to kinda cry, since I didn't really know him much better then they did.
He was always kind and generous about remembering my birthdays and Christmas holidays. I would always get a beautiful gift, and quite often he would call me up, either from Hollywood, where he lived a lot of the time, and other places, including many foreign ports, where he'd either be making a movie or would just be carrying on having a good time.
Through the first fourteen years of my life I only saw him a tiny handful of times. Then, just after I finished ninth grade, I suddenly got a call from him. He told me how sorry he had been over being unable to attend my junior high graduation, but expressed an intention to make things up to me.
I came alive with a wonderful feeling of excitement when he proposed that I take a boat trip with him. He wanted me to come to California to see him. Then he would test out his new yacht on the California waters. He even told me that he had named the yacht after me, which made me feel tremendously honored.
My mother, who still had a profound respect for my father, as he in turn had for her, was happy to see that I was so happy, and gratified that my father would want to do something for me to make me happy.
I flew to California and he was there to meet me at the airport. He looked even more handsome than he ordinarily did on the screen, and more handsome than the last time I had seen him some two years before. He was wearing a mustache, which made him look even more handsomely masculine and virile than ordinary, was deeply tanned, and was clad in a smart sport outfit.
I was thrilled to discover that he still maintained his magnetism with the opposite sex, which seemed to carry him on or off the screen, as women of all ages moved in on him nervously, seeking autographs. He was more than happy to oblige, signing their books with a smile. And even many women who did not actually walk up to him with autograph books would watch him from the distance and swoon.
"You see, my dear," he turned to me at one point as we neared the front entrance to the airport, where his chauffeured limousine was waiting to pick us up, "these are the penalties of being famous. You just have no time to yourself." But he said it anything like a man who was suffering, and I knew that down deep he enjoyed every solitary moment of recognition and that he would have been worried if people hadn't been that concerned.
The chauffeur drove us into Hollywood and high up into the hills overlooking it, where Dad's mansion was situated. It was protected by a huge gate that extended itself on all sides of it, thick shade trees that afforded a buffer, and was located at the end of a narrow winding side street, to insure maximum privacy. A view of the city sprawled out below was afforded through the select location positioning of the house.
No sooner did we get into the house than Dad asked me if I would like to take a swim with him before lunch, which the maid would be fixing. I emphatically agreed and he got me a pink bikini which he handed to me.
"I trust this will fit you," he smiled. "I got it for you yesterday, anticipating you'd want to do some swimming."
"Yes, I would," I grinned. "Thank you."
I was absolutely reveling in my glory. I dressed quickly in the guest bedroom that Dad had set aside for me, then joined him in the backyard. At that time he was in his middle forties, but his body in swimming trunks looked as magnificent as any athlete's in his middle twenties.
I had read articles in movie magazines relating his gift for physical fitness and the fact that he had his own gymnasium in his home, so that he could condition himself daily.
"Say, I can see that that little girl of mine isn't so little anymore," he eyed me approvingly as I stepped into the water at the shallow end of the pool in my bikini. He wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. I was very well developed for my age. But it still sounded great coming from him.
We took several laps around the pool in the hot sun, then the maid came out and called us in, informing us that lunch was being served.
We got out of the water and Dad insisted on drying my body off with a brisk white towel.
"Say, my young lady has grown up," he nodded as the towel reached out and touched my tits. I got the distinct feeling that he had enjoyed the sensation of touching them with the towel.
He then dried himself off, after which we went back into the house and changed back to our clothes. As for the feast that had been prepared, it was fit for a queen, and I was honored that he had thought so much of me as to have something like it prepared for me.
Not only was there plenty of everything to eat, but there was even champagne handy, which my father served, toasting me as he did.
"I think you're big enough now to enjoy a few sips of this with me," he confided with a smile.
"I think so," I giggled.
The thing I liked was that he was treating me as an adult, whereas mother, despite her good intentions, and I wouldn't knock her for the world because she's one of the sweetest persons I've ever known, was inclined to be on the protective side and look upon me as some kind of sweet young juvenile.
I took a nap in the afternoon, then that evening my famous father took me out to a nightclub on the Sunset Strip, where he was constantly besieged by autograph seekers. He even ran into a famous Hollywood columnist who took one look at me and said, "Is she appearing in your latest picture with you?"
Dad looked at me and we both burst into laughter.
"No, old sport," he patted the columnist playfully on the back. "This is my daughter from New York."
"Oh, Mary's girl?" the man smiled at me.
"Mary's and mine," Dad nodded. "We're both very proud of her."
"You might as well. She's gorgeous."
"Thank you," I said.
We left the nightclub and he took me to a movie at famed Grauman's Chinese theater. After the film was over he took me out to where his footprints stood in the concrete. As he stood there with his feet in the cement, comparing the likeness of his footprints, a group of squealing teenage girls descended on him. He happily signed their autographs for the next few minutes, kibitzing with them as he did.
When he finished he looked at me and said: "We'd better get home, young lady, 'cause I'm gonna test that boat for us tomorrow morning, The Miss Christine. You know, I really like the sound of that name."
Then he walked me back to the car, which was parked down a side street. The chauffeur was waiting for us. On the ride home I found myself wishing that Dad wasn't my father. I wished that instead I could be a grown-up real life lover of his, and hopefully marry him. That is what I really wanted.
As for the next day, it was absolutely wonderful. The Miss Christine was bright and new, breathtakingly beautiful, and we spent the entire day sailing.
I sat in a comfortable lounging chair wearing the pink bikini that he had bought me, which I was so proud of, and began quickly acquiring a tan in the sun.
As the day wore on I noticed something about Dad that I had heard was a part of his living pattern, but something I had seen very little of in my dealings with him until then.
He was beginning to do a lot of drinking, and the longer he drank the more frequently he began eyeing me with a boyish grin. I wondered what the grins were all about, but was inclined to dismiss them, shrugging them off and smiling back at him.
By the time late afternoon began to fall my father asked me to join him in the cabin below the deck. I was more than happy to join him, and wondered what he wanted me there for at that particular time.
"Baby, I really think a lot of you," he closed the door behind him and announced. Now we were all alone in the middle of the sea, completely closed in from the rest of the world.
"Thank you," I replied. "I love you too."
"No, what I'm talking about, baby, goes even deeper than that," he looked at me solemnly. "Maybe I've got to get about half drunk to get the guts to face up to it, but I've really been attracted to you from the moment I saw you at the airport. I've tried my damnedest to hold my emotions back and, for the most part, at least until now, I guess I've succeeded. But now it's just getting to be too much for me to be around you. As I'm sure you've heard, I'm a very passionate man, as most of the famous actresses in Hollywood have testified at one time or another."
"Yes, I've heard that," I acknowledged meekly.
"Well, honey, I hope you'll forgive me, but I just can't hold myself back anymore," he exclaimed, shuffling forward toward me. "You're just too beautiful."
He quickly narrowed the distance between us and placed a solid kiss on my lips. That kiss absolutely melted me like butter. The kiss I had seen thrill women the world over on the screen was now thrilling me.
Sure, he had kissed me before, but on every other occasion it had been a fatherly kiss I received. Now it was something different. I was getting the same kind of kiss that I would get from a passionate lover.
He threw those strong, protective arms around me, letting them encircle my body as I tingled with sensation to his wonderful touch. He delivered several more impactful kisses to my lips, then let his tongue work its way inside my mouth.
As my-tongue slashed against his I began burning up between my legs for the first time in my young life. Oh, yes, I'd felt little tingles in there before, and several times I had let boys I liked kiss and pet me a little, producing those responses, but never had I felt the kind of sharply intense pangs of excitement that I felt then and there as our tongues splashed resolutely against each other.
We kept up the Frenching for a long time, until finally we both rolled off of the sofa we were sharing and spilled out bodies on to the floor.
Then the real excitement began as we rolled on the floor, our hot hands touching each other in increasingly intimate ways. He ran his hungry fingers underneath my bikini top and roamed freely over my breasts, pinching my nipples and enjoying every wonderful sensation.
My pulse began to speed up and my breathing accelerated as he continued running his fingers over my knobs. Finally he took the liberty of unhooking my strap and pulling off my bikini top.
"Oh, now I can see all of those lovely boobs," he smiled, dropping his head between my breasts.
He licked the tips of my boobs, letting his tongue comb briskly over them as my body trembled with exhilarating passion.
"I've got to see all of you naked," he announced.
Then he put his fingers to work on the strap that held together my bikini bottom. One resolute tug later he pulled it off, sighing happily as he focused on my hairy snatch.
Dad applied his fingers diligently to my box, stroking with skilled professionalism. My whole body came alive with a new sense of flaming need as he went to work. Thunderous bolts of electric sexual excitement surged through me.
He kept up his brisk finger work for the next few minutes. Then he decided it was time to tongue my entire body. Dad began with a French kiss that sent me reeling into orbit. Then he kissed and nibbled on my ear lobes, after which he went back to some more intense breast sucking as he worked me into a great lather.
Then his active tongue zeroed in on my thighs, which he sucked and nibbled on. He worked his tongue effectively against the insides of them, then decided that it was time to move his tongue up. between my legs to my snatch. His darting stabs caused my entire body to vibrate passionately as he moved in and out. He used his tongue like a torpedo, blistering me with his superb movements.
He drove himself at a nifty pace as his tongue continued working its way around inside my box. With brisk energy he moved me evermore toward explosion.
Dad wasn't about to stop until he achieved his objective, and finally he did, catching my load as I emitted a loud sigh. While he went after my juices he squeezed my buttocks for added support.
Once I got my orgasm off a big smile pushed itself across Dad's entire face. He got up and began taking off his clothes.
"I'm gonna get as naked as you," he announced determinedly.
He pulled off all his clothes, revealing that beautiful body that I had seen in swim trunks the day before, the body I had admired. Well, it looked even better now completely devoid of clothes.
Naturally the most conspicuous thing about it was the sizable bulge between his legs. It was the first time in my previously secluded life that I had seen a huge bulging penis exposed in the flesh.
Some of the young guys I had let kiss and pet me got hard while we were fooling around, and I could see the bulge underneath their pants. Some of them got so excited that they asked me to take their cocks out and play with them, but I wouldn't do it. In fact I completely stopped having anything to do with one guy I knew after he kept pestering me about taking out his cock and playing with it.
Dad stroked his dong proudly several times. It was obvious how proud he was of his physical prowess.
"This is what you do to me," he said. Then he lowered his body back down to the floor. "Tell you what, honey. I've just got to get this thing off. It's just driving me crazy. I'd really appreciate it if you could jerk it until the juice shoots out of it. I'd really like that. I don't want to force you to do too much with me, but I do need to get my release."
I nodded, then put my fingers to work on that warm, smooth, hard rod of his. It felt good to make contact with it, even though it felt a little strange for me in the beginning. The longer I ran my fingers up and down its hard surface the better it felt. And the faster and more talentedly I did it the broader the grin that surfaced on my father's lips.
"That's it, you're getting to be a real pro already," he laughed, "just keep up that finger work, just keep up the pumping, keep those fingers jerking, baby, that's all I need to get me off. Just keep it up and I'll be there." I kept right on going until his legs began spasming more noticeably than before and he started gasping.
"Oh, just a few more," he sighed, "just keep it up a little while longer and I'll be there."
Then there was a louder gasp than before and I felt a jutting stream of warm cum hitting my hand. What didn't land in my hand and remain there squirted voluminously on the floor.
We got dressed after that and there was no more talk about sex during the rest of our excursion. The chauffeur was there to pick us up when we brought the boat in, and he dropped us off at a restaurant nearby, where we had a good meal.
Several times on the ride home, as I thought about the consequences of what had occurred on that boat, my father reached over and squeezed my hand gently, as if he had picked up on what I was thinking.
Before I turned in for the night my father came into the room and kissed me tenderly on the forehead.
"Thanks for a wonderful day," he said.
Then I watched him walk out of the room and close the door. I couldn't go to sleep for several hours, spending time tossing and turning as I thought about all that had happened.
It was supposed to be wrong to do things with your father like the intimacies we had exchanged that day. But somehow, strangely enough, it just didn't seem wrong. It seemed so natural, particularly the way that he had asked me to help him get his rocks off.
I wondered if that would be the only time that I would get so involved with him. I wondered if he would suggest future involvements and, if so, to what extent.
Once the next day dawned I got a much better perspective on what he had in mind. He suggested we take a boating excursion to Catalina Island, and that we stay overnight there. I told him I would be absolutely delighted.
He drank heavily on the ride over to Catalina Island, but never once made anything resembling a sex overture, except to smile at me now and then and occasionally look at my bare legs.
But after we reached Catalina Island and safely docked our boat, I could see the hellfire look in his eyes, and figured that something was definitely in the works.
We took a suite in a lavish hotel and immediately went inside it. Dad opened a fresh bottle of liquor and began belting down the sauce even quicker than before. He had a troubled look on his face as he did, as if he were at war with himself.
"What's the matter, Dad?" I asked.
"I'm just thinking, honey. I'm thinking about how far I ought to go with you. I want sex with you again, and I want it bad. I haven't been this uptight about the prospect of sex since I was just a kid. I've gotten so much about it through the last few years from so many different women that I've learned to take it for granted."
He put his glass down and walked over to me. He ran his fingers softly over my face.
"Oh, your complexion is so smooth," he lauded. "I just love to touch it. It's like silk."
Then he threw his lips suddenly against mine. They crashed together. He reached inside my blouse and bra and let his fingers go to work with precision. The longer he put those fingers to work the more anxious he became to go further. Finally he stopped working them inside my bra and asked: "Would you do something for me, dear? Something that I really need?"
"What's that?"
"I wish you'd suck my cock. I don't imagine you've ever done that before. I'll guide you along, providing that you want to do it. Would you want to?"
I paused for several long seconds.
"Yes, I'll do anything to make you happy," I finally said.
At that point he unzipped his trousers, pulling out his big dick.
"Take this and play with it," he whispered. "You can start out by doing what you did so well the other time."
"Okay," I said obediently.
I went to work with my fingers as the anticipation flowed inside me. The longer I pumped the more triumphant the smile became that flashed across his face.
"Oh, you've got magic in those fingers," he lauded, "keep up that brisk finger work. I love it."
My fingers continued to work him over, until finally he was ready for me to move on to the next step. His breathing accelerated and he let out a gasp as he said: "Okay, baby, now let that tongue go to work on my prick. That's what I want. Just listen to me and your old man will instruct you. I want you to start out nice and slow. Now let the tip of your tongue lick the tip of my cock. Nice and easy now, 'cause that's what I want."
Up and down I let my tongue slip. The first few times I experimented by letting it run around his warm smooth pole. But when he specifically requested that I run my tongue over the tip of his prick, I was more than happy to accede to his request.
It felt good to let the edge of my tongue tickle the end of that huge dick. And his whole body vibrated accordingly, enjoying contact with my tongue.
"Okay, baby," he said with encouragement, "now you can speed up the pace a little bit. Let that tongue go to work a little faster on my prick. Move it quicker."
I was happy to control my actions according to his wishes. He knew just what he wanted from a woman, having had so many during his whole life. Even though a lot of people were looking on what we were doing as wrong, I was flattered that I was able to please such a sophisticated man of the world with sex.
I stepped up the pace, licking the end of his huge stick, until he gave me orders to go to work on his entire dick. He was too excited to withhold his orgasm for much longer.
"Okay, baby, now you can suck me all over," he said briskly. "Let that tongue fly, because I wanna shoot in your mouth. Oh, are you gonna love that, are you gonna love catching my juice. C'mon and suck me, suck all the juice out of me, let me flood that cute mouth of yours, the mouth I love."
In addition to being about the sexiest man to look at that I had ever met, my father brought beautiful little nuances to the act of lovemaking itself. The manner in which he spoke, the manner in which he was able to draw me out sexually, was fantastic. No sooner did he utter those words than I was ready to do all in my power, absolutely all, to please him in every way I could.
I let my tongue race with superb grace up and down his long spear as he spread out his legs and thoroughly enjoyed my tongue action. He cupped his strong, firm fingers around my buttocks as my tongue continued sliding up and down in brisk, steady rhythm.
"Keep up that sucking," he urged, "keep that tongue pouring over my hot stick. I want that sucking, I want you to suck me, keep up that sucking, baby."
As I continued pumping up and down, he made another suggestion: "Finger my balls, play with them. It'll make things even sexier that way for both of us. That's it, oh, play with them, toy with those balls, tug at that scrotum, oh, I love it, I want it, I want lots of great movements."
I gave him the kind of great movements that he sought, combining my sucking with finger tingling sensations on his balls. He began gasping and sputtering, and his body proceeded to shake even more noticeably than before as I pushed him ever closer to that magic moment he would shoot.
"Suck, suck, suck," he sighed impatiently.
My fingers continued sliding over his balls and my tongue manipulated itself with great conviction over the base of his rigid dong. Finally he issued one last warning: "Hang on, honey, because I'm gonna shoot. Don't let that hot juice startle you. Stay with it. You might have the temptation to spit it out right away. Well, stick with it and you'll really enjoy it. Cocksucking is a great art."
I was determined to do what he said, to stick with his load and catch every precious drop of cum that bolted from his penis. As he began shaking more noticeably and he let out one final gasp, I received the first spurt from his dick.
As hard as it is for me to admit, I did waste a little of that first load as the hot juice rolled off of my tongue and fell to the rug. I even coughed a few times.
"Stay with it, baby," Dad encouraged, throwing his strong fingers around my head to brace me. "Hang on and suck that juice, you'll get to love the stuff, you really will, just like I loved sucking out your pussy. Stick with it."
Due largely to his steady encouragement and inspiration, I stuck with it and managed to gobble up most of his juice. Just as he had predicted, I liked it once I got used to it. Of course, I would like anything that was his, since I loved him that much.
He was so grateful for the job I did sucking his dick that he insisted on going down on me, which he did, with his usual degree of expertise, receiving not one but two loads from my snatch.
We spent the following day sunning ourselves. When I observed Dad watching my body closely, I knew that he was getting horny for more sex. He finally suggested that we go back to our room, to which I readily consented.
This time we had a beautiful sixty-nine. I found it considerably easier the second time around sucking his cock as compared to the problems I encountered adjusting to something new the first time around. It was amazing fun to be getting my snatch sucked by Dad's skillful tongue while I was giving him the same kind of excellent oral action with my tongue.
By the time we left early the following day I realized that I had a deep crush on Dad that wouldn't easily go away. It wasn't something I just could accept and quickly shrug off. You see, since I hadn't ever been involved with a man before on such an intimate level, and since that first man happened to be somebody like my father, things took on completely different significance than they would have given a separate set of circumstances. I wondered at that point, seriously wondered, if I would ever be able to become enamored toward anybody else. My desires toward Dad were that strong.
That evening, after the servants had retired to the guest house, and as I lay in bed contemplating the future, and the consequences of my sexual relationship with my father, he snuck into my room. He staggered a little, and held an open bottle of whiskey to his lips, from which he took occasional sips.
"Honey, I've got something important to talk to you about," he began, somewhat troubled.
"What's the matter?"
"I want you to completely level with me. I mean be as honest with me as you know how."
"Sure," I nodded.
"Well, are you a virgin?" I mean, has a man ever gone all the way with you? I mean really all the way."
"No," I shook my head.
"Did you ever go as far with another man as you went with me?"
"No," I told him.
"That's what I was afraid of," he nodded. "That makes the whole thing a lot tougher."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm all worked up just thinking about you. My old cock just can't rest, baby. And I was thinking of going all the way with you, going even further than we've gone so far. But now I don't want to, since I don't want to be the first person to go that far. I'm sorry to disturb you, baby. Get a good night's rest."
He took one last quick sip from his bottle, turned quickly on his heels, and started walking slowly toward the door. I couldn't stand to see him walking away disappointedly.
"Dad, wait," I called.
He stopped at the door, just as he had his fingers on the knob and was getting set to open it.
"Yes, dear?"
"I want you to be the one to go all the way with me," I told him with great conviction.
"You don't know what you're saying. No, I don't want to be the one to rob you of your virginity."
"Please, I want you," I announced in a loud, determined tone. And to prove my point I jumped quickly out of the bed and pulled down my pajama bottoms, then my panties, revealing my hairy cunt.
"Are you ever tempting me?"
He shook his head.
"Come and get me," I motioned to him. "I want you. I want you to make love to me, to go all the way."
He placed the bottle down on a table and rushed toward me, taking me in his arms and kissing me longingly on the lips. He was obviously overcome by my gesture.
Then he put his fingers to work on my pajama top, pulling it off, then going to work on my bra, which he also removed. Then he let his fingers slide over my breasts as the momentum accelerated.
Dad ended up guiding my body downward on the bed. As he ran his fingers soothingly over my breasts he dropped his head down between my legs and began licking my snatch.
He put his tongue to work fervently, while he continued letting his talented fingers run over my tits. He was getting me as hot as he could before working into the main event, a new experience in my life, that of a man going all the way with me.
I really think that, if he hadn't been such a heavy drinker, he never would have summoned up the nerve to have sex with me at all. But he was a hot man who. had an attraction toward beautiful women, and the drink gave him an extra stimulus, a means of warding off his normal apprehensions.
He continued sucking my snatch until I shot. Then he removed his tongue from my mound and put his fingers to work on it instead. He picked up the pace and began working his fingers with faithful ease, until my whole body was alive with excitement. I broke into a sweat of anticipation, ever eager to receive more in the way of thrills from my sexy father.
After he had worked his way into the passionate scheme of things he let his hard dong maneuver its way inside my nest. I'll never forget the scream I let out the first time he made contact.
"Do you want me to stop, baby?" he stopped his efforts long enough to ask. "I don't want to hurt you, but these first few strokes will hurt. I'll guarantee that. You're just not ready yet to deal with all this."
"Oh, yes I can," I said emphatically. "I learned before and I'll learn again."
"You sure? I don't want to force you into anything."
"I know you don't. I want you to do it to me. I can't wait, in fact. I want you to do everything to me."
"Very well," he nodded.
Then he went right back to his diligent efforts, sending that hot dong of his, that searing spear, into me relentlessly, time and again as he drove himself to passionate heights.
As that body surged forward a tremendous feeling of pride and satisfaction swept through me that I had done what I had, that I had insisted that he go through with screwing me all the way, that I was receiving those pulsating systematic stabs.
I noticed the blood oozing out of my pussy at one point, but it didn't bother me. I was enjoying his actions too much. I wasn't alarmed since I had talked to some older girl friends who had had their cherries popped, and they had informed me as to what it had been like to get it from a guy that way for the first time.
But whereas they had received it from boys, I was getting it from a man, one who women the entire world over desired to have sex with.
As he continued grinding his cock in and out of me, I put my hips to work diligently, moving them back and forth, in and out, as I kept perfect time to his movements.
He patted my ass cheeks several times to create added momentum as he drove his prick at top speed, moving ever nearer to the big moment when he would explode inside my cunt.
He finally locked his fingers around my hips as he rocked his body back and forth eagerly, pushing toward climax. His hungry lips reached suddenly forward, itching and quivering with anxiety. He let them swoop down and find my mouth.
At first he let his lips stab against mine several times. Then he let his tongue energetically work its way inside my mouth and grind against my tongue.
Back and forth the tongues ground as his body continued to move in and out with rapid strokes as he delivered spirited cock action inside my tight mound.
While we continued Frenching I felt the warm inspiring tingling of his hot juices exploding inside my twat. It felt so good to receive his inspiring nectar.
After it was all over he broke our French kiss and looked at me with alarm.
"I hope I didn't do something terribly bad," he shook his head.
"I love it. I hope you do it to me again."
"That's sweet of you to say."
"I really mean it."
"Well, you'd better get a good night's sleep now."
He patted my cheek, kissed my lips with gentle affection, then picked up his bottle, took a swig from it, and left my room.
When he left I suddenly discovered how sore my entire body was from the sensational tension of a new experience. Needless to say I was particularly sore between my legs.
We screwed off and on during the remainder of my stay with him, which, in all, lasted better than two weeks. Several times I noticed beautiful women leaving his room at various times of the day. Some of them were familiar faces from movies and movie magazines I had seen. Apparently he did have the pick of the crop, as he should have, considering how much he had going for him.
I'll never forget one afternoon as I walked inside the house after taking a refreshing swim. I was barefooted, wearing nothing other than my scintillating bikini.
I heard giggling coming from my father's room. Much to my surprise the door was wide open. I observed a brunette I had seen in many movies, a real glamour performer, with her head buried between his legs. They were both naked, and the brunette, if anything, exhibited even a better body than she did on the screen, where I saw her most of the time dolled up in bathing suits and short dresses to befit her sex symbol image.
They were both doing a little giggling, even the brunette was slurping more than giggling as she ran her tongue up and down enthusiastically over my father's dick.
"What a great hose artist you are," he chuckled. "Just keep it up and you'll get the juice you came after."
She wasn't about to be denied, judging by the intense way in which she applied her tongue, driving it spiritedly up and down Dad's tall restless dong.
At that point, as I stood outside the door, getting an eyeful, Dad finally observed me watching.
"Come on in and get an education, honey," he laughed.
The brunette became a little confused as she heard Dad address a comment to somebody else. She turned around and caught her first sight of me, lighting up with a big smile, showing those beautiful, even white teeth of hers.
"Hello, beautiful," she began. "Where'd you come from?"
"Outside, where I was swimming," I told her candidly.
"You don't say," the brunette laughed. If anything she was even drunker than my father.
"Honey, this is my daughter," Dad introduced us. Then he looked at me and said: "I suppose you're quite familiar with my friend here."
"Yes, I've seen many of her films," I nodded.
"Thank you, dear. You're so cute."
"As for now, let's finish this suck," Dad said, getting a little on edge by the long interruption.
"Have a seat, baby, and watch me finish your old man off," the brunette looked at me and winked.
I got myself quite an education, watching her do a fantastic job of cocksucking. I noticed her brilliant sense of timing, and the way that she would alternately speed up, then slow down, keeping Dad in a perpetual tizzy.
She kept it up until he exploded, and as the hot juice bolted out of his prick she reached out and tickled his balls, giving him some added sensation that way.
No sooner did the brunette finish than she jerked her head up from Dad's now satisfied peter, and gave me a big smile.
"I love you, honey," she said.
"What are you doing, baby?" Dad smiled. "Are you trying to put the make on my daughter?"
"I'd like to give her a little bit of an education," the beautiful actress casually admitted.
I was flabbergasted over what was happening. I couldn't believe that this beautiful woman, who had thrilled me so many times on the screen, was eager to have sex with me. Of course, at that time I just didn't understand the double-gaited nature of some of Hollywood's screen personalities.
"I like my kicks any way I can find them, sweetheart," she told me. "You're cute and I could give you quite an education. That is, if your old man will let me."
"I'll leave it up to my little girl," Dad said. "If she wants to go to bed with you then I'll let her."
"How kind of you, Dad," she looked at my father and winked.
Without any warning she then let her lips plunge resolutely against mine. I was amazed to discover that I felt all kinds of passion down between my legs. I never would have thought that possible with another woman, but here it was happening to me, and so fast that I could hardly understand the totality of all of it.
She went to work on my bathing suit when she found no resistance on the basis of her kiss. Once she pulled off my top and bottom she asked me to join her in bed.
"I'm gonna give you a trip around the world that you'll never forget, baby," she winked at me, spreading her shapely form out on the bed. "You just lie back and relax and let me take care of everything. I'm gonna overload that cute body of yours with thrills."
She began by showering my lips with kisses. Then she lowered her head to my breasts, which she sucked and nibbled on eagerly, running her fingers over my ass cheeks as she did.
"I love this body, just love it," she gasped.
I looked over and observed Dad standing next to the bed, watching us go to work with mounting interest. Finally I observed his fingers drop down between his legs. He began running his fingers over his cock as he watched us make love.
The brunette was completely accurate about one thing. She knew how to use her tongue, whether it meant putting it to work on my body or on Dad's cock, and she couldn't seem to work it fast enough.
Once she gave my tits brisk tongue action she let her tongue slip down toward my asshole. As she let her fingers glide with superb ease over my ass cheeks she put her tongue to work skillfully moving in and out inside my ass.
My ass itched with wild sensations as her tongue worked its way around it explosively. My whole body trembled with exhilaration under her spirited movements.
"Suck that asshole, baby," my father called. And while he watched he began working those fingers around his dong more briskly than before, getting completely caught up in the thrills of what was going on.
When she saw that she had sent the tingling sensations reeling through my entire body, my gorgeous brunette friend applied her tongue to my toes, which she sucked and nibbled on. That got me even hotter than I'd been before.
"I can tell that that box of yours needs attention, doesn't it," the brunette exclaimed with a knowing smile as she let her fingers manipulate smoothly over my snatch. It reminded me of the cool, intelligent pattern which my father followed when he was leading me toward sucking.
Then she got right into the act, dropping her head eagerly downward, swooping between my legs and letting her tongue go to work. My moist mound enjoyed the sizzling movements of her tongue as it sent thrills reeling through me.
She kept it up until I exploded three times, being a glutton for my juices. And when it was all over she had nothing but lavish praise for me, which I accepted modestly.
The brunette finally left, leaving Dad and I alone. He was happy to have me in the bedroom naked.
"How about blowing me, honey?" he asked, tickling my stomach with his fingers.
In a matter of seconds, I was going to work between those hairy legs of his, working my tongue around that big dong.
That meeting with my father, that vacation respite, changed the course of my whole life. In fact, ever since then I really haven't been able to work up a keen interest in a man.
Naturally I've had lots of date invitations, and lots of male pursuers. I've gone out and, on some occasions, I've let men get intimate with me. On every occasion I've left my mate satisfied, but in most cases they didn't satisfy me.
These poor guys didn't know it at the time, but they were having to compete with my famous father, and none of them could seem to cut it, I'm sorry to say.
Every now and then I get together with Dad, either if he's in New York, or when he has time to entertain me in Hollywood. The last time I visited him in California was a few months ago, and on that occasion we went to a Palm Springs hideaway for two weeks, where we did nothing but swim, fuck, and have fun.
I get the feeling that my father would like to cut off sex relations with me, not that he doesn't enjoy sex with me, because he definitely does, but due to the fact he sees it is adversely affecting my relations with other men. I have told him many times that I prefer him to any other man, and several times, instead of the look of joy I expected to see, I found instead a sad expression on his face.
It has reached the point of compulsion with me now to want to have sex with my father. Usually when I'm in the company of another man I'm thinking of him.
As for Dad, he keeps on drinking heavily, and I have a hunch that one of the reasons why he drinks as much as he does around me is so he can fortify himself when it comes to having sex with me.
But as for me, I'm so strongly drawn to him that I just can't help myself, and what makes things worse is that I can't seem to be drawn toward any other man in the way that I'm drawn toward him.
I'm in a turmoil since my better judgment tells me that it would be unwise and even foolish to expect to remain my father's faithful lover for the rest of his life. I know I should develop a serious interest in some other man, even though my inclinations are in the direction of continuing my relationship with Dad.
I guess that's where things stand now, and I'm getting to the point now where I'm getting really disturbed about things.
SUMMARY It was highly unfortunate that Christine's first intimate contact, at the age of fourteen, was with her own father. Had she been involved in some transitory relationship with him it would have been much more simple for her to resume relations later with somebody else.
The first significant development in shaping Christine's future life was, then, the timing and the manner in which she became involved with her own father. In addition, circumstances worked against her by virtue of the fact that her father was far more appealing than most fathers were likely to be, along with being famous. Having sex with him, therefore, propelled Christine into a magnanimous state, making her appear like an adult and other young men who courted her appear like children as compared to her famous father.
Once Christine sampled the forbidden fruit she developed an appetite for more. The situation also worked in the case of her father. The more physical involvements that transpired between him and Christine, the greater the desire that ensued to engage in future acts with her.
As Christine mentioned in her narrative, there was also the factor of her father's heavy drinking, which no doubt played a heavy role in the development of their sexual relationship. Had it not been for the fact that her father's discretion and inhibitions had been significantly lessened by the intrusion of alcohol, he no doubt would have restrained his strong male urges in the direction of his daughter. He probably would have refrained from approaching her at all. But since he drank heavily, not only did he eventually capitulate to the extent of involving himself with her in various acts, but he even stood by and watched merrily as Christine had sex with another woman.
Although it appeared, particularly at the outset of my association with Christine, that I would have one of my most difficult cases to solve, circumstances intervened, taking the case out of my hands.
The aforementioned drinking problem that had afflicted Christine's famous father flared up to the point where he sustained a serious heart attack coupled with a general breakdown in health.
Once he was released from the hospital he was ordered to take a lengthy and complete rest. Christine knew that she would have to get along without him in a sexual context, and instead looked after him like a devoted nurse, until he finally convinced her that she should not tie herself completely to him.
Despite her father's many faults, in the final analysis he wished the best for her, and wanted her to develop a sphere of contacts in her own age group, particularly a young man in whom she would become romantically interested.
As of last report Christine's father was remaining away from drink and was making good headway toward recovery, while she has taken an interest in a young man in her own relative age category. It appears as if things might have a happy ending.
CHAPTER FIVE
Robert A is a stable business executive in his middle forties who came to me with a problem causing him great concern.
A widower whose wife died some five years earlier, Robert has lived, for the most part, a rather staid life. That is, until some radical changes suddenly occurred in his life. Robert's story follows in detail: I led a very quiet sexual life when my wife was alive, and an even quieter one after she died. My wife became ill not long after I married her, which sharply reduced sexual activity for both of us. She was unable to have much sex with me for health reasons, and I was too loyal to consider playing around on the side, even though there were times when I felt the urge. Usually when I'd feel such urges I would rid them by masturbating.
But oddly enough those desires didn't crop up as often as you might think. When my poor wife became too ill to provide me with much sexual satisfaction I threw myself all the more intensively into my woman's lingerie business. There was the additional pressure, as well, of meeting hospital and medical expenses for my wife, who was periodically confined to hospital beds, and even when she was home, was reliant on heavy doses of expensive medicine.
The business began expanding by leaps and bounds, and before I knew it we had offices on the West Coast, Los Angeles, to be exact, in addition to our main office in New York.
Just as things were really beginning to soar, however, my poor wife died. Looking at it in retrospect it was probably all for the best, considering how badly she suffered so much of the time, but it was a terribly hard pill to swallow at the time.
Once more I dug myself intensively into my work in order to ease the hurts. As I mentioned before, I had an office on the West Coast, and on my trips to Los Angeles I often stayed with my sister Theresa and her daughter Gwen.
Theresa was divorced from her philandering husband, a successful investment consultant who let the riches attached to success go to his head in a way that he shouldn't have. But as a result of a generous settlement Theresa obtained a home high up in the hills of Encino in the San Fernando Valley.
I saw Gwen grow up before my eyes. The older she became the more beautiful she grew. By the time she entered college she was gorgeous enough to be a leading lady in the movies. In fact, one producer who spotted her at a party one time actually tried to sign her to a contract. But she wanted no part of the business and turned him down cold, much to his dismay.
Gwen had the most radiant red hair you ever saw, dazzling blue eyes, and as stunning a cream complexion as you ever laid eyes on. As for her figure, it was like perfect symmetry in motion, the ultimate in perfection, with rich firm breasts, trim legs, and a slender waist. She drove men out of their minds wherever she went, and that, indeed, helped lead to her problem.
When she was in her second year of college I arrived in Los Angeles on business, going immediately to Theresa's. I found Theresa crying disconsolately as I arrived, asking her what the problem was.
She told me in detail what was troubling her. Theresa explained that Beautiful Gwen, who had all kinds of opportunities with men, wasn't turning enough of them down. She related an incident of a few days earlier in which Gwen had been caught in the men's room of a fashionable Beverly Hills restaurant blowing a young man.
From there she went on to recount other incidents, such as a trip Gwen took to Mexico City with a divorced doctor during her school semester vacation break, and an incident in her own home wherein Theresa had come home unexpectedly to find Gwen taking turns sucking the cocks of some hot young college friends.
I shared her concern, considering Gwen the same as a daughter, in that I had no daughter of my own. Then Theresa posed a suggestion, which I considered carefully. She suggested that her promiscuous daughter would be in the best position to make a clean break from her past if she could go to New York and live with her uncle for awhile.
"She thinks the world of you, Bob," she looked at me with pleading eyes, on the verge of tears. "I really think you could help her. It would get her out of the environment she's caught up in here. God knows how many boyfriends she has in all. All I know of is what I'm personally aware of, and I'm sure I don't have all the facts."
The longer I reflected on Theresa's fervent plea the more sense it made to me. Perhaps I could serve as a stabilizing influence on her. Then I thought about what might happen in the event that I didn't take Theresa's advice. The chances were, I figured, that Gwen would end up in real trouble. Either some man would knock her up, or perhaps she would make a bad move in marriage.
Her whole life could be ruined as a result of her devil-may-care sex attitudes. In addition, I had always wanted a child of my own, and Gwen constituted the closest I would probably ever come to having a child of my own. Therefore I just had to take action to help her out of a potentially tragic situation.
That night when Gwen came home I had a long chat with her. I suggested that it would be a great idea if she were to spend the summer with me in my Long Island home. She seemed delighted at the prospect of spending some time in New York, but wanted to confine the trip to just a few weeks, perhaps thinking of all the men she would be leaving behind in Los Angeles.
I used every persuasive argument I could conjure up to get her to spend the entire summer with me, explaining it would be good for her, as a young woman, to be completely away from home for awhile. I explained that the experience couldn't help but develop her.
Gwen finally consented to spend the summer with me, and when she gave her approval, planting a kiss on my forehead for good measure, I felt like I had scored a major triumph, even though I knew down deep that the battle was only beginning. Needless to say I knew there were a lot of handsome exciting men in New York who would be strongly attracted to Gwen.
Theresa was greatly indebted to me, relating that she was confident that I could bring young Gwen around. I wasn't altogether sure that I could, but I was determined to give it my best try, since I did think the world of the girl.
I looked forward with great anticipation to the dawning of summer. It would be like having my own daughter and attempting to help her over some steep hurdles.
When Gwen arrived the last week of June, I immediately took several days off from work to show her around the city and other scenic areas of interest not far from it. We took a splendid drive through Connecticut, over which Gwen raved.
The longer I remained around her, the more hours I spent near her, the greater the youthful enthusiasm that suddenly started sweeping through my body, recharging it in a way that it hadn't felt since I was very young.
Until then I hadn't realized just how prematurely I had aged. I guess it must have happened when my wife took ill. At that point the spark of youth had apparently been extinguished from my body.
Now, all of a sudden, I felt like going out more. I would take her to Broadway shows, where we would wind up giggling like kids, to dinner at various restaurants, on outings of different natures.
I found myself enjoying life more than since I was very young, and found myself not thinking so much of the time about business, which was just about all I had thought about after my wife died.
Then something else started happening to me as well. I began observing Gwen's beauty in a way that I hadn't before, in a sensual sense. I found my cock hardening noticeably as I looked at her, and felt a little bit funny about that. When I'd start thinking of her in a sexual context I'd get guilt feelings and do all that I could to banish thoughts of such activity from my mind.
As for my efforts to reform her, I first of all made certain that I was around her so much of the time that I was aware of all that was going on in her life. I was afraid if I gave her too much latitude that there would be men on all sides of her dying for attention, and that she could very well succumb.
So I played it as cool as I knew how. To keep her out of mischief, and within eye range of me, I gave her a part time job working in the office when I was there. The men around the office were naturally taken by her beauty, but since I was the man in charge, and the overseer of them all, they were apprehensive about making a play for her. And whenever I got the impression that one of them might be willing to take a chance and ask her for a date, I would give the guy the kind of look that would clue him in on the feet that he was overstepping his bounds. And since they all wanted to keep their jobs, they chose not to antagonize me.
One night as we were having dinner out, following a movie we had seen at Radio City Music Hall, Gwen looked into my eyes, smiled, and offered an observation.
"You know, you're living a lot more, I think, than you were before I came to visit you," she said, "but I do think that you should spend more time away from business than you do."
"Do you really think so?" I looked at her, wondering what she would say next.
"I know so," she told me emphatically. "You know, Uncle Bob, you're really a very cute guy, and a lot of fun to be with. But the big problem with you is that you're afraid to let your hair down."
"I am?"
"Yes, you are. Why don't we take a nice trip somewhere. I went to San Juan not long ago. I'd love to show you around there. What do you say we go?"
"Give me some time to think that over," I said.
The next day I thought long and hard about what she had said. I got to thinking that perhaps she was right, that perhaps I ought to take a trip. As long as I was with Gwen, I couldn't see her getting out of line. I figured that it couldn't help but be beneficial to me as well as to Gwen, I had talked to her several times about her promiscuity, and why it was so important that she remain circumspect in relations with the opposite sex. At first she had been inclined to laugh, accusing me of talking like her mother, but eventually she started listening to what I was saying, which made me feel good. I decided that I was making some significant headway.
So with a spirit of optimism guiding my hand, I decided to take one of my first lengthy vacations in quite some time. I decided to let my beautiful niece show me San Juan.
The first thing I noticed right away, once we got out on the sandy beaches of the Caribbean, was how attracted I became to her body, particularly when it began to brown from the intense rays of the sun.
The legs were long and slim and supple, so inviting, just the kind of legs a guy dreamed of running his fingers over. Then there were her beautiful breasts, which looked inviting and appetizing. I found myself longing to run my fingers over them and to let my tongue roam their rich, creamy surface.
The first day after we came back from the beach I had a tremendous urge to screw. But I wasn't about to relent under the pressure. After all the diligent effort I had brought to bear in an attempt to get Gwen to shed her promiscuous ways, I certainly didn't want to be a bad influence on her by drawing her into sex.
I waited until Gwen had to go out. She told me she wanted to buy some cosmetics at the drugstore right next to the hotel where we were staying, and I let out an immediate silent sigh of relief.
I was relieved since, with her gone, I would then have an opportunity to get my rocks off. I was a little jumpy up until the time that she left, even though I pretended not to be.
Once she left I headed immediately into the bathroom. I couldn't even remember the last time I had been this hot for sexual release. I pulled down my pants with a sense of urgency, dropped my shorts down to my ankles, and reached down for my cock.
My prick was as hard as a rock and I had to take it into my fingers and manipulate it. I went to work speedily. The urges were rushing into my body so fast that I just had to do something about them. I had to get my rocks off. I slid my fingers over my aroused balls a few times while I continued rapidly beating my meat, moving ever closer toward climax.
I began gasping noticeably as I drew closer to the big moment, and my entire body began shaking nervously as I got set to explode. As for my thoughts, they were pinned squarely on my niece Gwen. I closed my eyes and envisioned that beautiful body sprawled out on a beach towel. I thought about how radiantly her red hair had glistened under the bright rays of the Caribbean sun.
It was easy for me to see why she received so much attention from men, and why, once they became enamored toward her, were never quite the same again. She had a charismatic beauty that dominated you right down to the depths of your soul.
I felt at that moment as if I were dominated down to the depths of my soul by her enchanting beauty. It was causing me to jerk on my cock and balls with a sense of devastating need I hadn't felt in a long spell.
My eyes remained closed, focusing on Gwen's beauty, right up until the time that I exploded. I watched the jetting stream of cum shoot into the toilet bowl, then uttered a sigh of welcome relief.
By the time Gwen arrived a few minutes later I had finished a cool shower and was ready to take her out to dinner. But for the rest of the evening I would be plagued by thoughts of what had got into me to get as excited as I had. I knew what was happening, that the longer I associated with her the harder it would be to refrain from having some sexual contact with her. The following day we rented a car and took a first-hand tour of San Juan and surrounding areas. Gwen was at her bubbling happiest, brimming over with joy, giggling like a schoolgirl. Just being with her made me feel like I was twenty-one all over again.
After a long enjoyable day of sightseeing we went back to the hotel. We got to our suite and Gwen headed for her room, expressing an intention to freshen up.
I decided to lie down and catch a brief nap before getting ready to go out for the evening. I still had mixed feelings about everything. In one sense I was more content than I had been in years, perhaps the most content I had been in my entire life. But one thing continued to trouble me. Would I succumb to Gwen's charms in the same way that scores of other men had?
I got to thinking about that in detail as I lay there in bed. It turned out that Gwen had been to San Juan not once but three times, and with three different men, all of whom definitely fit into the classification of swingers. She talked about her conquests boldly, about how charming the famous singer she had met in Las Vegas had been, and how much fun he showed her when he took her along with him when he was appearing at one of San Juan's bigger hotels. There had been the All-American basketball star she knew at school, whose father was an airlines executive, and the charming psychiatrist fresh from a recent divorce.
It got me to wondering if I would be the next male on her long list. Somehow I just had to resist, I gritted my teeth with determination as I pondered my possible fate. Poor Theresa would be crushed beyond belief if it turned out that her reliable brother, while in the act of allegedly serving as a stabilizing force in the life of Gwen, instead wound up having sex with her.
As I prepared to fall into a deep sleep, my troubled thoughts slowly drifting away from the time being, the sound of Gwen's voice stirred me out of my reverie.
"Uncle Bob," she called sweetly.
I blinked my eyes open quickly and looked up at her. I was startled out of my skin to see that beautiful nude body standing before me naked. My heart pounded as my eyes were immediately taken in with the hypnotic beauty of her breasts. "
"What are you doing standing here like that?" I said loudly, letting my shock show.
"There's no need to get startled. What's wrong with seeing your loving niece with her clothes off?" she smiled. It was apparent from her tone and the manner in which she smiled, however, that she knew precisely the amount of emotional influence her stunning form was wielding as she stood before me.
"I've talked to you many times about the need for you to maintain stability," I tried to keep my cool, but my voice rattled in such a way and my hands shook so noticeably that it was obvious to shrewd Gwen what was going on in my mind. There was a battle waging and we both knew it. "I've done my best, my very best, to set a good example, and that's exactly what I intend to continue doing, young lady."
"Nobody said anything about me becoming wayward," she looked at me and laughed, somewhat pitifully, as if I were some kind of neurotic little boy. "You're a grown up man. Does it bother you all that much just to have your niece, who loves and admires you dearly, standing before you in the nude? Surely you couldn't be bothered all that much by that."
She really had a way of putting me in my place when she wanted to. Gwen had made me sound like a scared little child, and, come to think of it, in a way you would have to say that I was.
"Okay, honey, maybe I got a little too panicky," I said. But the thought still kept bothering me as to why it had been so necessary for her to walk in on me nude. But then, after thinking about it quickly, I concluded that maybe it was just her way of wanting to relax, and perhaps it indicated complete trust in me as an uncle.
"Can I just lie down there next to you?" she inquired with a tone of girlish innocence.
"Yes, I suppose so," I replied after hesitating for a moment, surprised by her request.
"You're like a father to me," she reached over and kissed my forehead. Right away my body tensed and my cock hardened. I was hoping that she didn't notice my response. If she did, she said nothing about it.
But when she spread that beautiful supple body down in the nude next to me on the bed I started going through all kinds of torture. One of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on, who also happened, by some strange twist of fate, was lying next to me in bed as naked as the day she had been born. Only there was one difference-the day she had been born she didn't look anything like this. Her body was so breathtakingly gorgeous that she put me in a tizzy just being next to me.
She lay a few inches from me for a few minutes. I closed my eyes and attempted to go to sleep, but there was no way that I could accomplish that objective. She looked too good lying next to me, and the recognition of that fact, of the fact that she was lying right next to me, proved too much.
After I had been lying there for a few minutes, with my heart beating with great rapidity, she called to me.
"I really like you," she exclaimed. "You're so nice to me."
I opened my eyes and observed her crouched over me. She leaned forward and kissed my lips tenderly. And as her head pushed forward so did her body. Her breasts scraped against my chest, sending shocking vibration waves bolting through me. That coupled with the kiss we shared sent waves of passion spilling inside me.
"What are you trying to do?" I asked.
"To be friendly. I can see the way you've been looking at me, honey, and you just wouldn't believe how horny I've become the last few weeks, even though I've enjoyed myself for the most part. But I'm a very sexy woman, baby, and I need some release. Not only that but you're really a very sexy man, even though you don't seem willing to give yourself half a chance."
"What do you mean by that?" I asked with surprise.
"Just what I said. You ought to let yourself go more. You'd be surprised at what a tiger you'd be if you'd just come out of your shell and growl."
"Do you really believe that?"
"I definitely do, and I don't say that to every man, either. And if I can help you in any way to attain that goal then that's exactly what I'm going to do, baby."
Then she set out to do just that, reaching forward and kissing my lips several times, making her stabs brisk and breathtaking as she left me gasping.
Gwen caught me by surprise by coming at me with sudden intensity, and after I got over that initial shock of her flurry of kisses, my body was suddenly aflame with excitement.
I reached forward on impulse and locked my arms securely around her body. I let my lips plunge against hers several times, then let my tongue find its way eagerly inside her mouth.
The faster our tongues converged together the more excitedly my entire body began to shake. I reached forward and applied my hot hands to her skin, letting my fingers go to work on her breasts.
A feeling of passion rippled through me as my fingers drew their first contact against those creamy breasts and nipples. Before I had wondered what it would be like. Now I knew.
"Oh, now you're coming on," she beamed happily, "now you're really making the scene. I love those movements, keep it up, honey, keep it up, oh, baby."
My head sank down between those lovely breasts and I let my tongue come into contact with her breasts and nipples. She was delicious to the touch and I enjoyed sliding my lips around that erogenous area.
"Oh, you're driving me out of my mind," she gasped. "Drop your tongue down between my legs. I want you to eat me. I'm burning up down there, sweetheart. Go down on me, suck out my box, go after my juice, eat me, eat me."
The sound of her anxious words caused great excitement inside my already aroused body. I began by running my tongue up and down the insides of her creamy thighs, taking turns, taking my best tongue shots at her right thigh, then her left.
Her body heated up and began vibrating back and forth. I loved the sight of that beautiful buttocks of hers, which shifted with every movement I put forward.
"Okay, now switch to my cunt," she called to me in desperation, "I need that loving right now. Suck me, suck out my box. Put that tongue to work, baby, suck me, oh, do it, I need it."
My tongue found her box, going to work with brisk effectiveness. It pumped all around her moist mound as I pushed forward, desiring to get her cunt off, to suck in her glorious juices.
The faster my tongue went to work the more her body shook. Finally she began breaking out in a sweat as my tongue traveled in and out of her snatch.
"Now you're on the right track," she lauded. "Keep it up, keep sucking me, baby, you're gonna taste me, yes you are, keep it up, oh, keep sucking, oh, oh."
I drove my tongue with resolute passion until she let out a lengthy gasp, at which point the juice began shooting into my open anxious mouth, the juices of passion that I was so eager to devour.
"So nice, so nice," she whispered. "Oh, what a cunt suck, oh, are you great. I love you."
When I finished I suddenly began reevaluating everything that had happened. Once more it seemed shocking to realize what was happening in my life. During the act I had been carried away with the passion of the moment. But suddenly I found myself back where I had been before", the fearful doting uncle who had gone too far.
"You really know how to make a girl happy," she smiled. Then she reached down and grabbed my hard dick. "Now I'll just have to show you how grateful I am. I'll have to make you ever bit as happy as you've just made me.
Up and down she pumped with diligent enthusiasm, moving her fingers with great rapidity. My whole cock felt like it was on fire from her brilliant efforts.
"I'm gonna really make this cock come alive," she said.
"You already have," I gasped.
She kept her fingers working for a few minutes, then let her tongue run against my scrotum, causing tingles to shoot through my body. I trembled with mounting excitement from the beautiful movements she put into action motion.
The next thing I knew she had her hot tongue registering forceful impact on my penis. Here my niece, who I had been so careful with, the girl I didn't want led down a path of destruction through too much sex, was working her tongue up and down my prick and I was powerless to do anything about it. The thrills were too manifest and I was too far gone with passion to do anything about it.
"Oh, can you suck," I gasped.
What made things all the more intriguing was that I hadn't even had that many cock sucks in my entire life. It had happened to me several times before I was married, but little after that. I think my departed wife might have blown me twice, and both times it was during our honeymoon. She never was too erotic and, of course, after she got sick that took what little passion that might have remained out of her.
Her tongue drove with great rapidity as she became increasingly hungrier for my cock juices. She let her fingers run smoothly over my scrotum as she went to work with great excitement, determined to push me as far as I would go.
"Oh, I'm gonna shoot," I gasped as the itch accelerated between my legs and in my balls. "I'm gonna explode my rocks."
Then I felt that tingling tenseness that always precedes a major explosion. That was followed in turn by a sonic cum boom, in which my juices shot voluminously into her mouth.
That was the end of our first sex experience. But we had several other sessions like it during the remainder of our wonderful trip in San Juan.
I had never experienced a period like it in my life, and my feelings were often split down the middle. There was the human side of me that reveled in the enthusiasm of lovemaking with one of the most beautiful women I had ever known. But then there was the guilt side as well. I could still see poor Theresa sitting there and looking so distraught as the tears rolled down her face and she revealed to me all the problems she had had with her daughter.
But I was her big hope. I was the man who could turn things around for beauteous Gwen. But instead it was Gwen who was turning me around, and I found myself laughing and carrying on like a young boy. It was like suddenly being reborn, and I was finding out more as time went by that I could get along without my business, which up until that time had been practically my whole life.
We went back to New York at the end of our fun-filled vacation, kissed by the Caribbean sun and feeling refreshed. I figured that I would be able to throw myself back into business and forget about how far I had gone with Gwen in Puerto Rico. I told myself that it was just one of those things-the tropical atmosphere and Gwen's beauty had blended to make me receptive to temptation in a way that I wouldn't have otherwise been.
But that wasn't the way it happened. I still had Gwen around all the time, and now that she had succeeded in drawing me out sexually she was all that much more confident about continuing to draw me out in the future.
I found myself succumbing time and again. Each time we did it we would make oral love, even though she was attempting to feel me out on the idea of going further.
At work I found myself running into a big problem that hadn't ever bothered me before. I found myself desiring to be with Gwen alone. I got these feelings even when she was in the office with me. I found myself wishing for a session alone with her in bed, with nobody else around, where I could luxuriate in her naked beauty.
Then one evening, after I had sucked out her box, she suggested that we take another trip.
"I'd really like to show you Las Vegas," she beamed happily. " Have you ever been there?"
"No, I haven't," I admitted.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding."
"No, I've never been there."
"Well, I'll take you there and act as your personal guide. I've been there many times. It's a blast."
I felt like getting away from the office again anyway, since I could barely keep my mind on my work. I made arrangements to leave for Las Vegas with Gwen the following Monday.
We spent some more time in the sun and, needless to say, some time in the sheets as well.
The first day we got there, after dinner and a show, she started looking terribly enchanting to me as she took off her dress and got down to her panties and bra.
"Oh, baby, come here," I said.
"And just what do you have in mind?"
"Come over here and you'll find out."
"I'll just bet I will."
My itchy fingers went to work immediately peeling off her panties and bra. When I finally finished I set my tongue to work running enthusiastically over her tits.
We finally ended up in sixty-nine position, and in just the position I liked to assume an oral lovemaking with her. She had her hot ass perched just above my head, with that furry box that my tongue ever delighted to just above my tongue.
As for her, she had her head buried between my legs, ready to go to work sucking my cock.
Then the action commenced briskly. I watched that hot ass roll around contentedly as my tongue went to work on it, driving itself at a forceful clip as I steadfastly went after her juices.
The spark I set off in her from my sucking produced a counter spark, which she put into active work by running her tongue up and down my fiery penis.
Dramatically we kept up the brisk pace, our sweaty bodies twisting and turning as we got set to explode, and got set to receive each other's hot juices.
To add to the festivities even more, I thrust my forefinger up her asshole, letting it grind out a steady tune inside her as the sucking continued on the part of both of us.
She shot first. I caught her load with great eagerness, then went back for more. She stepped up the pace of her sucking, glad that I had brought her off once, determined to shoot her juices in my mouth some more.
We drove ourselves frantically until, at the same impactful moment, we released spirited loads of juice into each other's mouth. Then we were able to lie contentedly next to each other.
But not for long. Before I knew it my beautiful partner was prodding me to do more.
"Honey, I want you to go all the way with me, to run that cock of yours inside me," she said with a sense of urgency. "I've just got to have it from you that way. You'll never be really mine, truly mine, until you do it."
"We've talked about that before," I frowned. "It's just not right to go that far."
"C'mon and be a good sport. I take the pill. Nothing's going to happen. Except, of course, we're gonna have a blast."
Then she said nothing more. She went to work seeking to get me so excited that I'd answer her request. She showered my lips with kisses, then ran her fingers over my balls. She let her tongue pump up and down over my cock for a few brisk strokes.
"C'mon, baby," she coaxed. "I want you to fuck me, I really do. Screw me, screw me."
By that time she had me right where she wanted me. I couldn't resist her anymore.
I let my cock slip inside her with one decisive forward movement. Once I got inside her I was thrilled by the tightness of her cunt. I drilled her repeatedly, moving my hips and cock with precision, moving with all the energy I could muster.
My heart palpitated savagely as I drilled her relentlessly with my dong. I was eager to explode my juices inside her. I watched as her beautiful body swayed from side to side. Her hips moved with dynamic energy.
"Fuck me, fuck me," she encouraged. "Keep that cock drilling me, I want it, I want your passionate juices."
"Oh, you're gonna get them."
"Do it, fuck me, baby, I love you."
Those words, that pronouncement of love, made me all the more eager to explode my juices inside her. I drove my cock into her, assaulting her with fantastic energy, desiring to get my rocks off, to provide that body I loved with all the thrills it could withstand.
We set a blistering pace. As I fired my body back and forth with burning desire she moved her hips in immediate reaction, eager to match my every movement.
"Oh, kiss me," she gasped. "I want your lips against mine."
I crashed my lips against hers, then slipped my tongue inside her mouth as I moved ever closer to exploding.
Our tongues melted in each other's furious midst as our bodies became enmeshed. Her leg scraped against mine, which provided me with great excitement, receiving body contact with her in several different respects.
The tempo continued accelerating until the juice finally bolted from my hot prick.
It proved the start of a torrid vacation trip, and became increasingly torrid as we exchanged fuck after fuck. Once she got me into the habit of fucking her that way, of running my powerful prick up her snatch, I just couldn't seem to get enough.
Let me tell you something, it has been a summer unlike any I had ever known. Since that trip to Las Vegas she has talked me into taking her on an excursion of the New England States, then a trip to Canada, where we spent a lot of our time enjoying sex in the picturesque confines of British Columbia.
I'm in a trap right now, let me tell you. I've gone just too far in my passionate relationship with her. It has now reached the point where she's content to have sex with me, and isn't all that eager to experiment elsewhere. It's good she's not extra eager to look for men, but very bad that I got drawn into things in the way that I have.
As for my business, it has been suffering ever since she came to see me, and it is becoming increasingly more difficult to talk to Theresa on the phone long distance and report that things are moving along at a glowing clip. The last time I almost choked on my own lies when I told her, among other things, how innocently her daughter had been behaving since coming to stay with me.
"I just knew you could do it, Bob," she said happily.
You can imagine how terrible I felt when she said that. Here I am screwing her far more frequently than I ever did my late wife, letting my business go to pot for the first time since I got started in it, and I'm telling my poor sincere sister that everything is all right.
You know, apparently I've made such a great impression on Gwen that she's now hinting around about switching schools in the fall and staying with me some more.
Obviously that puts me in one whale of a bind, since my cock and balls tell me to keep her around so that I can continue screwing her, but I know that eventually this whole thing will have to mushroom out of proportion.
Somehow I've got to face this issue, somehow this thing has got to be resolved, but I'm not quite sure how to do it. There have been days when I've thought about confronting her directly and telling her that this love affair we've been having just has to end.
I'll give you one reason why I haven't ever followed through with this idea. It's that I get so steamed up, and get my cock and balls in such an uproar, that my emotions hold sway over my better judgment. That, in itself, is quite a departure from the way I was before, since earlier I was always known as a man of sound judgment whose basic fault was that he never seemed to let his hair down.
Well, I've shattered that image, as you're well aware, and developed a new one, and even though I've had loads of fun with my swinging niece, who has been accompanying me on trips all over and giving me the best screws of my life in the process, I wonder where all this is going to lead in the long run.
My services had been sincerely recruited by my dear sister for purposes of bringing needed stability into Gwen's life, and instead of providing that stability I've let her sweep me off my feet and call the shots. She's been calling them and I've been only too happy to follow through on her every request.
I feel like the man who started painting his living room and finally ended up painting himself right into a corner. Well, I'm edging ever so closely into that corner, and heaven only knows where all this is going to leave me in the end.
SUMMARY The first thing I attempted to do with Robert was to impress upon him the fact that he should not reprimand himself too harshly. I explained that he was far from the first man I had ever encountered who had ended up in such a predicament, and that, after evaluating his story in totality, his actions were understandable.
The fact that Robert had never had a consistently satisfying sexual relationship with any woman over a lengthy period explains why he was unable to resist the challenge posed by his beautiful niece.
A conscientious man who had thrown his passions into his business, a man who had experienced heartbreak first by taking care of a sick wife, and later by losing that wife, he was in the kind of vulnerable position, whether he realized it or not, wherein he would succumb to the charms of a woman.
The fact that the woman was young and beautiful naturally enhanced the prospects for an intimate association, since he was given a chance to capture a flaming experience that had eluded him in his own younger years.
After reassuring Robert on that score, I stressed the necessity for him to break off his passionate relationship with his niece and coax her into returning to California.
If the relationship were allowed to continue any longer it could later prove tragic to both of them. I told him that by putting forward the example of steadfastness, and explaining to Gwen that he could not continue such a sex relationship mainly out of deference to her, that eventually his example would be respected by her.
Although at the time he expressed doubts concerning my suggested strategy, he nonetheless agreed to give my proposal a try.
Some months later he called me, thanking me for my advice and counsel. He told me that initially Gwen had reacted to his stubborn steadfastness like a spoiled kid, but that eventually she had reacted well, had gone back to California, and had become engaged to a proper young man.
Fortunately the relationship was ended in time and all was able to end well.
