FRESH SQUEEZED By D.L. Tash CHAPTER ONE I walked down the produce aisle, enjoying the stares I got from the men, and from a couple of women as well. It's terrible, I know. Here I am, dressed like some kind of slut and getting turned on by it. But living alone, after being married for twelve years to the wrong man (Horribly wrong, but we don't have to go there now, do we?) had been very freeing. So there I was, a very trim and great looking thirty-four, looking out from under the bangs of my newly-dyed red hair (it used to be mousy brown), "shopping" for vegetables. I wasn't interested in vegetables, though I did need a tomato and some salad. The men around me soon lost interest in vegetables as well, unless they were thinking about using one to fuck me with. Yeah, I'm terrible, aren't I? But imagine this: a woman in the produce aisle wearing a skin tight black leather skirt with a slit up one side, dark hose, fuck me heels (they're four inch: I still can't quite handle the fives) all on a five three frame with flaming red hair. And a mostly unbuttoned white blouse, displaying my C cups to total advantage. I had to go to Frederick's of Hollywood to find the right bra, but it was worth it. My breasts weren't just slightly exposed, they were on display, pulled up and in to create great cleavage. The white of the bra blended nicely with my white raw cotton blouse. I smiled as I thought of Nancy. She called these my Rawhide bras, because their purpose was to "round em up and move em out!" She is my co-conspirator in all of this, including doing what she calls 'the Show.' It's a free peek at the 'wares,' 'the Girls' (as she calls her breasts), the ass, and the 'Prize,' the twat. Nancy is a terrible exhibitionist! It used to bother me, because when Nancy came over and went through 'the Show,' (which she always did for me and Albert) that was all Albert could talk about for hours. It had one positive effect, however. After Nancy left, I always got sex. After Al left me for that tramp, (and I mean that: She started fucking around on him as soon as he left me) Nancy was a Godsend. She took me under wing and began to show me that life doesn't end when you get divorced. It was more like my life was just beginning. So here I was, at the local maxi-mart, doing a 'Show' of my own. I can't tell you how much it bolsters your ego when a man stares at you or drops something, or runs into his wife, because he was turning to watch you instead of looking where he was going. I "dropped" an orange, bending over to pick it up. I heard a man gasp (there were three of them standing behind me to enjoy the view. I know: I checked!) I knew what they were seeing. Dark but very sheer panty-hose, with a bright red thong beneath. Not only did the thong make my ass look great, but it snuggled my twat and was very sheer itself. Yeah, twat's a funny name, but that's what Nancy calls hers, and since (I'll be honest here) I found out how much fun getting your twat licked and sucked by a woman while you lick and suck her twat, I started calling mine that too. Anyway, the tight red thong not only held my twat like a see- through glove, but it pushed my pussy up against me, rubbing my clit and vagina. So I was getting turned on just walking around. I began to straighten up when I saw the boy. He was the produce clerk and he was staring down my blouse at the show. I smiled at him and winked. He blushed! Just went bright red. Even his ears blushed, exposed by his short "guy" haircut. I could not believe how turned on I was by that. I turned and the three men quickly averted their gazes, but I could tell they had been staring too. I never would have realized how fun exhibitionism was, had it not been for Nancy. I admit, I found her "accidental" exposures a turn on as well, so I was glad when Albert would be all horned up on the nights she came over. Because, hell, I like being fucked. And later, I loved fucking Nancy. Yeah, I have a potty mouth now. I love it. Making love is one thing: a good, hard fuck is totally another. Of course, it has been a while since I've had one of those. Every since Al totally lost it over a pimply nineteen year old slut. I was not interested in fucking her as well as him, (he was head over heels for her, and ignored safe sex) so I cut him off. He left a few weeks later. Unfortunately, cutting him off cut me off too. Nancy is great, but fingers aren't a cock. And her dildo, though fun (I warned you I was terrible!) didn't make it like a penis did. I rolled my shopping cart toward the prepared salad greens section, letting the men watch my hot little ass roll as I walked in those 4" heels. Let me tell you, I never realized how much attention heels could get a girl. Or even a woman like me. Men stared. I had one guy at the mall (Yeah, this is my second trip out. I warned you, I'm out of control here) followed me around half the mall, staring. I was doing the Schoolgirl thing that day, with the checked skirt and the whole nine yards, and his cock was so hard it bulged clearly through his Dockers. Anyway, that's another story. I was approaching the greens when the produce boy came over. He was staring down my blouse, but managed to look up when he asked, "Can I help you find anything?" Wow, I had never had someone who volunteered to help me find a vegetable before. But I smiled into his eyes, licking my lips rather deliberately before I spoke. "Yes, I'm looking for the mixed baby greens," I told him. He knelt helpfully. "They're right here, in the bottom of the case," he said. As he turned, his face was a little lower than the hem of my skirt, and I shifted as if to look at the greens, bringing my right leg out and forward, giving him a bulls- eye view of my barely covered twat, about six inches from his face. I knew that the sheerness of my panty-hose and thong basically made my twat totally exposed to him. In fact, that fact excited me even more, and I turned toward him, moving my pussy even closer for his inspection. He looked up at me and swallowed hard. "How many packages would you like?" he managed to croak. I smiled at him. "Just one, for now. I live all alone, and I don't eat a lot." The "alone" got his attention. He took a bag of greens and started to stand, and I stepped into him, so my boob brushed his face as he got up. He blushed again, and I could see his hard on, even through the green apron he wore. He handed me the bag and stood dumbly, unsure what to do now. I stretched, and my breasts, the Girls, moved toward him. He stared down at them. The bra was low cut enough to expose part of my nipples. I have those big, brown blotches for nipples. I always envied girls with tiny, round nipples that looked "normal." But since Nancy, I am a lot more comfortable with how my nipples look and am even finding them sexy. And in cases like this, big nipples that crawl out of your bra are invaluable. I have to admit, I was getting hot. Really fucking turned on. (Yeah, I like talking dirty too. I've learned a lot about myself in the past six months). My twat was working, getting all tight and hot and wet, and I love that feeling. I also love the feeling of knowing I can go home and give myself several good orgasms if I want to, and no one will be there to stop me or make rude comments. But as I looked at the kid, I started getting other ideas. He was big, probably six-two. And lithely muscular, like a Quarterback or a Tight End (my favorite position. In football, that is). "How old are you?" I suddenly asked. He looked at me, confused (face it, when confronted by such a panoply of delectable and seemingly available sights and smells, everything to him must have been confusing). "I'm nineteen, m'am," he finally said. "How late do you work tonight?" I asked him. I reminded myself, this was promising nothing. Nancy often made amazingly bold and nasty offers, then didn't show at the appointed time. If she met the guy later, she just told him her husband came back unexpectedly. No one ever complained at that excuse. I get off at ten," he said, his eyes like saucers. Poor kid. I could smell his excitement. And it excited me as well. This boy was totally turned on, barely able to speak, and I was the entire cause of it. I felt my twat let out a little gush of wet. Jesus, I was turned on. "You drive home?" "Walk," he said. Oh Jesus, this was working out well! "Would you like a ride? I could be waiting out front at ten for you." I put my finger in my open very-red-with-lipstick mouth and ran my tongue along it, fellating it. The poor boy almost fell over! "Sure, that would be... Sure thing, Ma'am," he finished weakly. I smiled as I took my finger from my mouth, trailing a line of saliva which fell (just as if I had planned it, which I hadn't) across my breasts. "Oops," I purred. "Could you get me a paper towel?" The kid turned, almost tripping over his own feet, and pulled at the towel dispenser. He misjudged his strength, and the towels poured off of the roll, cascading to the vegetable rack below. He ripped off a couple and turned to me, pushing them toward me. "Oh, damn," I said, really shocked at myself. "I just did my nails." I looked down at my luscious white mounds (yeah, I can love my body: That's one of the lessons Nancy taught me), with the little trail of spittle across them. I looked up at the boy and arched my back, pushing my breasts towards him. I smiled at him in wide-eyed innocence. "Would you mind?" I thought he might faint right there, or run screaming. Instead, he stared at my breasts, then carefully brought up the paper towel and wiped across my breasts gently. "Don't be afraid. I don't mind you touching me. In fact, it feels good. You have such a gentle touch." I don't know which of us was more turned on at that point. I was getting a little short of breath and had a vision of going onto my knees and sucking his cock into my mouth, not caring who was watching. He wiped again, a little harder this time. His little finger accidental touched my breast, and I moaned. "Oooh, I like your flesh on mine," I said. He jerked away as if bit. Damn. I carried it a little too far. I stepped back and smiled, hoping he would not be scared off. Damn it! I knew Nancy never met the guys later, but I hadn't had sex in over six months. And this produce boy, with his innocent farm boy looks and well muscled form (and his big shoes. Nancy always checked out the shoes, saying the bigger they were, the more the guy had. If this were true, my boy was hung like a horse) really had me hot. I wanted him. And the amazing thing was, I could have him. He would appreciate the sex (I wondered for a moment if he was virgin) and I would love to get laid. I'm divorced now. No one cares who I fuck! I smiled as nicely as my hot wet twat would allow, and said, "Meet you out front at ten, then?" He looked me over and nodded eagerly. "Sure, I'll come as soon as I can." "Oh, don't come too quickly," I said with a leer. "We have all night." I turned and walked away. A woman gave me a cold look as I passed. That had bothered me at first, the disapproving looks from so many women. But Nancy had said they just wished they had the guts to parade their stuff, and in a certain way, I think she was right. I paid for my lettuce (fuck the tomato. I'm know what I'm having for dinner tonight!). I smiled as I walked out of the grocery store into the cool night air. God, that was fun! I checked my watch: It was ten after nine. Fifty minutes, and I would have the kid (damn, he wasn't wearing a name-tag) in my car and we could do whatever we wanted. I started home, then realized there was no reason. I pulled up by a park and shut off the engine. We could grab fast food and drive up into the hills, or I could take him home and fuck him in the bed Albert left behind. My hand wandered down to my twat. Shit, the skirt was so short I was totally available, and the thought of that sent another shiver of pleasure running through me. I touched myself through the rough fabric of the panty-hose, and the wet, slick fabric of my sopping panties. Shit, that was sexy. I was soaking in my own pussy juices, sitting here in my car, beginning to pleasure myself while waiting for my teen-aged would-be lover to get off work. I began to masturbate myself, sliding my fingers along the damp fabric of my panty-hose. I could feel my folds beneath. I slid a finger over each outer labia, with my middle finger sliding right down the middle, finding my clit under the clothes and the meat of my pubes. I rubbed myself, enjoying the pressure, finding my clit and making it even more sensitive. I rubbed along my slit, then began to make a rhythmic circular motion. I could feel myself getting moister, both inside my pussy itself and with the hand I was touching myself with. I speeded up the motion, and I could hear the sound of my wet pussy as I frigged myself, harder and faster. Then I reached that high plateau and almost immediately fell over the edge. The orgasm was wonderful, pulling my body into itself and then, as the waves of pleasure backed off slightly, suddenly hitting again. I cried out as the second orgasm came, harder and bigger than the first. The contractions were wonderfully strong and I rode them as they hit, again and again. I took a deep breath. My pussy was still quivering with pleasure. I was sure I could have more orgasms if I wanted. But tonight I was getting laid, and I didn't want to wear myself out. I sat in the car, my breathing slowly coming back to normal, though my twat was still twitching with pleasure. I suddenly realized I wanted something, and, fact was, I had plenty of time to get it, and fuck anyone who didn't like it. Gee, this freedom was getting addictive! I started the car and made a U Turn, heading back to the corner where the Grocery store was. On the opposite corner was a mega-drugstore. Who remembers when a corner store didn't take up an entire block? I parked the car and headed inside. I could smell my own excitement, and that excited me more. I grabbed a cart and began to shop. First thing was condoms, both the good regular ones and the "Oversized" variety. Well, can't blame a girl for hoping (Yeah, I have a big pussy. So what? Guys aren't the only ones who come in sizes). Then I picked up a bottle of bourbon. I like it, and he might need a little help calming down. I realized I was planning to serve liquor to a minor, but hell, I was planning to fuck that minor too! I grabbed a bag of ice and a package of plastic rocks glasses to go along with the bourbon. I wondered about food but remembered the fast food plan. So I headed for the front of the store, wheeling up to the cigarette kiosk. I'm an ex-smoker. But I have always loved cigarettes and since I had my first cigarette the night I lost my cherry to Bobby Henderson, I have always associated smoking with fucking. And, since Nancy smoked, and we often shared a smoke in bed, it was now locked in stronger than ever. I picked up a pack of the good ones, the custom boxed cigarettes I used to smoke. They were brown and strong, and Jesus, I wanted one. I paid for the cigs, the condoms and the whiskey. The old guy at the kiosk smiled at me, devouring me with his eyes. I smiled boldly back. "Just feeding my vices tonight," I told him and winked. He winked back, looking down at my cleavage. Yeah, say it. I'm a sex object. Actually, I like Nancy's term for it, a sexy object. So what if all men think about is fucking you? Fact is, it's pretty nice to be stared at, hungered for and fantasized about. I went out to the car and opened the cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. Oh, Jesus, a night of sin. What a lovely idea. I started the car and drove over to the grocery, parking near the entrance. I rolled down my window and sat, smoking, waiting to see if the boy would really come out to meet me. I saw two bag-boys come out, and one smiled hugely as they walked past. The kid must have been talking. Tonight, I didn't care. Tonight, I was the older woman, out to debauch a teenage boy. I saw him walk out the entrance and towards my car. As he reached the door, I offered him my cigarette. "Would you like a drag?" I asked. He smiled and took it. He took a drag, none too well, but he managed not to cough. He handed it back. "You still want that ride?" I asked. He nodded. "Sure," he said, and headed for the passenger seat. I unlocked the door and he slid in, putting the seat belt on nervously. "How far away do you live?" I asked. He looked over, uncertainly. "It's just a few blocks," he said. "Your parents expecting you home soon?" I asked. I looked right at him, surprised by my own control of the situation. "Uh, no... they both work nights. But they're out of town this week. It's their twentieth wedding anniversary." I reached over and put my hand over his. "Won't they worry if they call and you aren't home?" He tried to look older and manly, which wasn't easy for him to do. "They won't call. We talked last night." "Then we can take a drive?" "Sure," he grinned. I looked at his cock, bulging through his jeans. I started the car and backed out, heading towards Collins road, which wanders through the hills around here. "I really should know your name," I said. He smiled. "It's Sam. Samuel Jordan." I smiled over at him. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead. "Call me Maggie," I said, using my 'nom de fucque.' That's another of Nancy's tips: Always use a fake name, and go to places outside of your normal area. I was actually ten miles from home, though that was only ten minutes by highway. "So, Sam, do you fuck a lot of women?" He looked over, shocked at both my boldness and language. He shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said, shocked. I smiled. "Don't call me ma'am. A ma'am wouldn't suck your cock like I'm going to." He looked at me in unvarnished amazement and lust. He couldn't believe this was happening. I reached over (I drive a compact, so you are really close to the passenger) and ran my hand over his hard cock through his clothes. The head was damp through the jeans, wet with the stuff some people call 'pre-come' and Nancy calls cock juice. He jerked when I touched him, but certainly did not try to stop me. We were headed into the hills. There was a turnout I knew about a mile ahead, where we could park behind the hedge roses and have complete privacy. I smiled over at him again. "I have liquor, if you'd like some." His mouth fell open. Here is this hot woman, offering him her body and liquor. And all he has to do is enjoy. "I don't normally drink, Ma'am. But I wouldn't mind trying a sip." I made up my mind right then. "You want to come to my place? We can drink and fuck and I don't have to drive afterwards. Do you work tomorrow?" He shook his head. "No, Ma'am. It's my day off." "Good." I smiled over at him. "You can stay the night, then." He smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. I was in disbelief as well. Thank God, I was going to get laid. It had been way too long. Nancy was okay, but it just wasn't fucking. And I like being fucked. I drove on the back road until I came to Coughlin and turned. Five minutes later we were on the highway. I turned on the radio and we drove to my place. Poor Sam didn't say a word: He was probably light-headed because all his blood was in his groin. I pulled up in front of my house. Sam looked at it curiously, but it was a tract home among many. At least it was older, with trees and a fence with roses growing in proliferation on it. I got out and took the bag. Sam got out and came around the car. "I can take that bag for you, ma'am." "It's Millie, remember Sam?" He blushed. "Sorry, Ma'a... Millie. I forgot." We walked to the front door and he waited while I unlocked it. We went into my house. I hit the overhead in the living room and he looked around, impressed. "Nice place," he said. I wasn't interested in giving him the tour. My crotch was at least calmed by the ride and quiet (and a corner of my brain was screaming, MELINDA! WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?). But I was here and so was Sam. "Could I make you a drink?" I asked him. He nodded. I suddenly remembered I had forgotten about food. "Are you hungry?" Sam shrugged. "I could eat, but I had supper already." "Good," I told him. I had eaten before I went out. Jesus, this was going just great. I went into the kitchen and made two bourbon and waters, with lots of ice. I brought them into the living room, where Sam sat on the sofa nervously. I gave his drink. "Try it," I said. "It's bourbon, so it has a bite." He took a sip and looked impressed. "It's pretty good," he said. "It gets better," I said, and sat beside him. He was maybe having second thoughts. I mean, I practically kidnapped the poor kid. "Are you virgin?" I asked. He shook his head. "No," he said. "Then you're pretty experienced?" He looked uncomfortable. "I had sex with one girl, but it didn't work out very well..." He shrugged, obviously embarrassed. "What happened?" I asked, smiling. I didn't want to embarrass him more and, after my first time, I know about disasters (another long story!). "Well," he started, "We did it, but she, well, I came real fast." I smiled. "That's normal. You were excited." "I sure was," he said. "I'd never done that with anyone." "Did she suck your cock?" He looked definitely embarrassed. "She tried," he said, "but she said there was something wrong with it. She said it looked swollen. Then I tried to get inside her and I came on her instead, and she was pissed." Poor kid. He was afraid he was a failure, just because he didn't have much experience and came off too quickly. I was interested to see if there really was something odd about his cock. "Can I see you?" I asked. I moved closer to him, and kissed him on the lips. He kind of puckered, but he wasn't very good. I slid my tongue out along his lips, and he opened his mouth. We kissed, exploring each other's mouths. Sam put his arms around me and pulled me toward him. I took one of his arms and brought it around and put his hand on the swell of my breast. He began to grope me. I pushed closer to him, sliding a leg over his and rolling half on top of him. I could feel his jeans on my twat and I rubbed myself against his thigh. He slid his fingers under my bra, clumsily touching my nipple. When he slid his fingers over it I moaned, to let him know he was doing good. His other hand slide down my back and around, sliding along my thigh, then up and over and toward my crotch. I pulled away from his mouth, and he moved his hand. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to..." "Nothing to be sorry about," I whispered. "I want you to touch me there. My whole body is yours to enjoy tonight. And I want to enjoy yours." He nodded, almost comically. We kissed again, and his hand slid up, clumsily touching me through my panties. I lifted my ass slightly so he could get to me more easily. He seemed unsure what to do, but he did feel and rub my twat a little. His other hand was doing a nice job of getting my nipples all aroused, so he was not incapable of pleasing me. I was hit with a wave of passion. I was going to take this young man and show him the delights of sexual pleasure, his and mine. And coach him, gently, until he was able to please me (or any woman) with confidence and skill. He kissed me again, pushing hard on my mouth. I pulled back. "That hurt a little," I said. His face fell. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." I cut him off, putting my fingers gently over his lips. "No, it just hurt a tiny bit," I said. "Don't push so hard. Just use your lips and tongue. And don't be afraid to open your mouth when you kiss. It's sexy." We kissed again, this time playing with one another's tongues. I ran my tongue along his lips, then wetly sucked his mouth with mine. He was a quick study, doing the same to me. I slid my hand down and touched his rock hard cock. God, he WAS big! I pulled back and smiled. "I think I know what that girl meant when she said you looked swollen," I said, as I worked to unfasten his belt. He watched breathlessly as I unfastened the buckle and popped the snap of his jeans. I gently unzipped his pants, a task made deliciously difficult by the hard-on filling the front of his pants. As the zipper came down, his cock thrust out, tenting his tidy whities. Jesus, it was sexy. I slide my fingers under the waistband of his briefs and pulled them gently down. His cock was massive. Not too long, maybe 10 inches. Well, yeah, that's pretty long, but it was really thick. It looked like a club, or a summer sausage. Shit, it was nice. I bent down and slid my lips over the head. He tasted wonderful, musky and salty. I ran my tongue over the tip, sliding over the little hole in the tip. Then I slid my lips further down the shaft of his cock and sucked him deeply and wetly (yeah, I like wet. I like me wet, I like guys wet. We won't even go into... well, maybe we will). He squirmed with pleasure. "Oh, Jeeze, that feels good," he said, his deep voice husky with desire. He began to writhe and I realized he was going to come. I licked his cock head, hard and rapidly, rolling my tongue around it. He tried to pull away, but I took his prick deeper in my mouth, feeling the pull at the corners of my jaw. Shit, he was big. He trembled, and ejaculated. I felt the hot juice squirt from him and closed my throat so I wouldn't choke. His taste filled my mouth, salt and vinegar, as I always thought of a man's come. He squirted, again and again and I could hear him swearing under his breath as his come kept on coming. He finally slowed and I opened my throat and swallowed the load. I licked his cock, finding more and drinking it greedily. He jerked at every touch of my tongue. God, he was sensitive. I finally pulled away, still holding his cock in my hand. I sat up and smiled at him. He looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to... well, do that so quickly." I leaned over and kissed him lightly. "Don't worry," I said. "That was just the first. The second one takes longer." He looked at me in happy surprise. I guess he thought it was over. I picked up his drink and handed it to him. "Why don't I get us a snack?" I said, and went into the kitchen. I leaned on the counter, totally horny and completely aghast at myself. I didn't make him wear a condom. And I loved it! The taste of his come still filled my mouth, and I wanted his cock in my pussy. I wanted him to lick me and suck me and... well, there was not much I didn't want. And I was using this poor kid. Well, not that he seemed to mind, but I was going to use him as my pleasure toy. Do this, fuck that, make me orgasm. And the thought of it had my own pussy juices flowing so hard they were dripping down my legs. And that turned me on even more. I opened the fridge and grabbed the guacamole and fresh salsa from the other night. I reached in the pantry and got out some tortilla chips, then put them all in bowls and put them on a tray. I adjusted myself a bit and walked back into the living room. He looked up. I smiled at him as I leaned over, putting the tray on the coffee table and giving him a wonderful view of the Girls. He swallowed hard and took a big drink of whiskey. "Want me to freshen that for you?" He looked at the drink and nodded, handing me the glass. "It's really good," he said. "It's sour-mash bourbon. It's a man's drink," I said as I took the glass and walked back into the kitchen. I turned at the door and he was watching me. I imagined his view, my short but shapely legs, my four inch fetish heels, my dark tights and my wide little ass barely covered by my black leather skirt. And don't forget my bright red hooker hair (with the bangs and the pageboy look: I went all out!). I smiled over my shoulder and lifted the hem of my skirt slowly, giving him an eye-full of my ass, totally exposed by the thong. Then I turned and went into the kitchen. I dumped out the old ice and made him another drink, this one with more whiskey and much less water. I wanted him to relax and enjoy himself. I certainly planned to. I brought him in the drink and sat down beside him. I took his hand and moved it to my groin. "Feel how hot and bothered you got me?" I said. He ran his hand over my damp pubes and I spread my legs, so I was more available. He took full advantage, sliding his hand over my cunt (I must have fifty names for it, all of them dirty!) and touching and feeling me. "Would you like me to take my panty-hose off for you?" I asked. He nodded, his eyes big. The poor kid was probably on the verge of a heart attack. I got up from the couch and finished my drink. Then I stood in front of him and began to take off my shoes. He watched, looking up under my short skirt as I removed the shoes. Then I pulled up the skirt and took the hem of my hose, pulling them down over my cunt and exposing my tanned thighs to him. I removed the hose and threw them on the bricks in front of the fireplace. Then I slipped back on my shoes (he wasn't particularly into that, apparently, but they really turned me on) and took my glass. "I need to freshen up my drink too," I said. "You want to come with me?" He nodded and got up. I walked into the kitchen and he followed. I made myself a fresh drink, ignoring the water this time. Then I turned to him. "I have your cock taste in my mouth. Does that bother you?" I kissed him, and gently licked his lips. He took a moment to respond, but he did, running his tongue deep into my mouth. Apparently it didn't bother him. Sucking his own cock might seem gross, but tasting his cock on a woman's mouth seemed perfectly all right. I can understand that. I have tasted my pussy on my husband's mouth and a couple of boyfriend's, not to mention Nancy's, and it was a kind of a twisted pleasure. Maybe some people wouldn't agree, but I do think of it as a little perverse. It turns me on more that way. He slide his hand down, cupping my pussy, as his other hand went for the tits. I felt his fingers work their way into my bra, cupping my entire breast in his big hand. He pulled out and began to unfasten my blouse. I felt it fall open and his hand came up under my bra, pushing it up off my breasts. Meanwhile, his fingers were working at me through my thong. I gasped as one slid past, and deep into my cunt. "Oh, God, Sam, yes. I want your fingers inside of me." Another finger joined the first, and I moaned in pleasure. Then my bra came open. The darling boy had found the front clasp and released it. His hand was unrestricted now and he felt my tits as he finger fucked me and we kissed, deeply, passionately and without inhibitions. His fingers were feeling my pussy, both fucking me and rubbing it. He was unskilled but eager. "Slow down a bit. Touch my cunt a little lighter, okay?" I asked. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, concern in his eyes. "You didn't. But if you want me to come, you want to take it a little slower and lighter, okay?" He smiled and nodded. If I was using him, he was using me too. If I had my way, he'd be pretty damned expert at fucking by the time we got done. He backed way off, feeling me more gently. That was much better. I slid my lips against his ear. "You don't have to hurry. I'm not one of your teen-aged girlfriends who will change her mind or get all shy on you. You can do whatever you like." He nodded and kissed me again. I love uninhibited kissing, and he was learning to be good at it. His tongue worked at my lips, my teeth, my tongue. It was wonderful. Then he knelt and took my breast into his mouth. My shirt was open, my breasts totally exposed, and he licked my nipples liked he kissed my mouth, wetly and thoroughly. I arched with pleasure and he pushed his fingers deeper inside of me, his thumb rubbing over my clit insistently. "Oh, shit, yes. That feels so good!" It did: it felt wonderful. I was leaned back against the countertop, just writhing in pleasure. I noticed the clock: It was just eleven. God, we had all night! "Can I..?" He started, then stopped. "Never mind," he said, and started to kiss me again. I pulled away. "We have to stop for a second," I said. "I have to pee." He nodded and went into the living room. I followed. He looked as if he was going to say something, then he stopped again. "You wanted something? Was it something you would like me to do? Don't worry," I said, putting on my nasty slutty girl face, "I'm unshockable." He shrugged, obviously embarrassed. "Its nothing. Never mind." "If you don't ask, you'll never know," I said. "Maybe I'm into it. Did you want to watch me piss?" He shook his head, horrified. "Oh, god, no. That's sick!" "My girlfriend thinks it's fun," I told him. He looked at me in shock and definitely a little interest. Either the Bi part or the piss part got to him. But he shook his head again. "No," he said, "its nothing like that." I nodded. "Okay," I said. "I'll be right back." I headed to the bathroom. I really had to pee. As I sat on the toilet, looking at the familiar surroundings, I again had a wave of doubt wash over me. God, I invited a stranger into my home. And I am acting like The Magic Slut, willing to do anything he wanted. I felt the gush of pee, and had a little tremor of pleasure. Damn Nancy and her piss games. I would never be able to pee without thinking about them. It was one of those really nasty turn-ons, one of the things you did when you were a little drunk and a lot horny. I wiped and headed back into the living room. Sam was looking at my collection of CD's. "You want some music? I have some porno tapes we could watch, but maybe you would prefer to just enjoy me?" I winced. God, I did sound like a slut. Or some kind of cheap whore. Here I am, fuck me, use me, enjoy me any way you want..." My sudden doubts dissolved as Sam, who had come up behind me, slipped his hand under my skirt and cupped my ass. I leaned back and he slid his hand around me, feeling my breasts as well. I chose a CD, Enya, and put it into the machine while he felt me up. The plaintive chords of music began to play, and I turned up the volume. Then I turned and kissed Sam again. He slipped my blouse and bra all the way off, and I let him. I wanted him to do whatever he wanted. His fingers pulled up my skirt and slid down the crack of my ass. I groaned in pleasure. He was so tall it was hard for him reach me, and he had to bend way over. "Let's go lay on the bed," I told him. "I don't want you hurting yourself. I headed in back, wearing only my skirt, thong and those wonderful four inch heels. I knew how great my legs looked wearing them and how sexy (okay, slutty) they made me walk, and that turned me on. God, I knew some guys liked shoes, but I got turned on wearing them. How is that for strange? I lay on my big bed, spreading myself over the duvet on the bed. It was off-white and I could imagine what I looked like, with my black leather skirt and heels, and my upper body naked, with my full breasts exposed. Suddenly, I had a thought. "Sam, look in the top drawer of the chest of drawers there. My video camera is in there. My stomach tightened. Nancy and I had played with it, several times, and sometimes I watched the very graphic images of she and I and jacked off (or jilled off, or whatever you wanted to call it. Masturbated usually suited me just fine). He found the camera and opened it. "You've used one before," I observed and he nodded. "My friend has one just like this," he said. "Boy or girl?" I asked. "Oh, a dude," he said. "I don't really have a girlfriend right now," he added with a shrug. "Aww, that's sad. They probably go for the dangerous guys." He blushed a little at that, but nodded. "I guess so. They certainly don't go for me." Stupid girls, I thought. Sam was big, well muscled and very nice. That was probably the problem. Nice is not something that turned on teen-aged girls. I thought of the guys I had dated in Junior High and High School. "Dangerous," "tough," and "cool" came to mind, along with scary, mean and aloof. Or simply anti- social. Not to mention sociopathic and budding criminals. Sam's own niceness made him unwanted merchandise. He brought up the camera and began to film me. I lay on the bed and posed for him. He took a close-up of my face, my breasts and then my still-covered pussy. I reached down and exposed myself for him, sliding my fingers into my sopping cunt. Jesus I was turned on. He walked around me, filming my ass and back. I stretched and rolled for him. "Earlier, you were going to ask me something," I said, knowing I would hear this again later on the video. "Was there something you wanted me to do?" Sam quit filming and looked at me. "It was something I wanted to do to you," he said. "But I didn't know if you would mind." "Have you done it to other girls?" I asked, feeling like we were playing an erotic version of Twenty Questions. It seemed like a fun game. "I did once," he said. "She didn't like it." "Well, maybe you didn't do it right, or she was just not into it," I said lightly. Jesus, I thought. With all the problems dating and with really inexperienced kids trying to learn on each other, it was a miracle they grew up fairly normal. "Did you tie her up?" I asked, sliding my hands over my head and holding them together, stretching as if struggling against my bonds. His eyes flashed in excitement, but he shook his head. "No, it wasn't that, but that looks interesting." "Don't tell me. I have to guess," I said. I tried to think what he might have tried to do. "Did you rip her clothes?" Again the excited look, but he shook his head. "No," he said. "Would you like to?" I asked. He looked at my skirt. "Leather doesn't rip," he said practically. "But I wouldn't mind tearing your blouse sometime," he added. "Ooh, rape fantasies," I said. It didn't scare me. I knew Albert liked to jack off over them, and he was so harmless as to be dull. We had even played rape once, though he rapidly lost interest. I guess the fantasy was better than acting it out. "Yeah, sometimes," he admitted. "Though I would never really do it," he added rapidly. "You know, you just think about it." Yeah, I really understood. I had a couple of my own, really heavy, nasty little fantasies. Of course, a real rape would be nothing like that. That was just scary. "It's just a fantasy," I told him. "That's okay. I have lots of fantasies too." I rolled over on my stomach, propping myself up on my arms to better expose my breasts. I put a fist under my chin and looked at Sam, feigning perplexion. It's something you want to do?" I asked. He nodded, starting to get in the spirit. "You don't want to watch me pee myself?" I said. The light was there in his eyes, but he shook his head. "No," he said, "that wasn't it." I smiled. This was fun. "Did you want to suck my pussy?" He nodded. "Yeah, I'd love to," he answered quickly. But then he added: "But that wasn't it either." "Well, what else is there, my mouth, my breasts, my pussy, my... you want to play with my asshole?" I wasn't offended by the thought. I like my ass. In fact, Albert never did, (he considered it "disgusting") so for years that was my own private entrance. One boy in school had touched it a little, but it wasn't until Nancy that I actually had it reamed with her tongue and fucked with a small dildo by someone other than myself. Sam nodded and my pussy tightened. "Yeah, I just wanted to touch it," he said, looking a little ashamed at the admission. "I love my ass touched," I said and he smiled in relief. "You can play with my asshole to your heart's content." He sat on the bed, still holding the camera. He looked, well, excited, relieved, nervous. Well, God, he barely knew me. "So some girl thought that was sick, you touching her asshole?" He nodded. "Yeah, she said it was dirty. She wouldn't let me touch her again after that." I laughed. "Oh, don't touch me!" I shrieked, imitating a schoolgirl. "I know where that finger has been!" He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, she was all grossed out." "Well," I said, laying my hand on his still hard cock through his pants, "that's why you need an older woman. I love fucking and if you want to try something, we will. If I don't like it, I'll say so. And you want you to do the same thing. If the taste of pussy is too strong, tell me and I'll wash. And if you want to do something different, just ask." He nodded. His eyes told the whole story: What nineteen year old wouldn't like a woman he could play with, experiment with, learn with? My own pussy was responding as well: what thirty four year old recently divorced woman wouldn't like a young guy to play with and to teach to please her? It was a match made in... well, Heaven didn't quite fit. I rolled over and got off the bed. There was a spot of wet on the duvet, but I knew from experience it washed well. However, all this talking had both turned me on more, and spoiled the mood. Sam followed as I went into the living room. "You want your drink?" I asked him. "Don't feel bad if you don't." He took the glass from me. "No, I do. It's really good." I nodded. He was relaxed without being really drunk. And so was I. "You are staying the night?" I asked. He nodded, trying not to appear too eager. "Sure, if you don't mind," he said. I just smiled. It might seem odd, but I hate to drive if I have had even one drink. It was best if that strong, eager body was in my bed anyway. "I'm terrible," I told him. "I'm already making plans on what to do with you tomorrow." He grinned. "I was having the same thoughts," he admitted. "Lets get drunk and fuck the hell out of each other," I said. Sam nodded. "Sounds like a good idea to me," he said, and smiled. I made us fresh drinks, still bare-breasted. He watched in amazement. "Yes, Sam, I am a brazen hussy," I told him as I gave him a fresh drink. "And I don't normally drink this much, but I'm nervous." "Nervous?" he repeated. "You?" "Yeah, I'm not in the habit of picking up total strangers and fucking them," I told him. "Well, I've never just gone out with a..." "Slut?" I offered. "Loose woman? Jeeze, the way I came onto you, you must have thought I was a real tramp." He grinned. "I kind of hoped that you were," he admitted. I laughed and he joined in. "Well, if sex was what you wanted, you came to the right place," I told him. "I haven't had good sex with a man in a long time." "I'll sure try," he said. "God, I'm soaked with pussy juice and sweat," I said. "If you like, I can shower." "It really kind of turns me on," he admitted. "Your excitement and all." "I guess you don't see that with your girlfriends," I told him. "No, not really. I mean, you go to a drive-in or something, and it seems they expect you to try something." He frowned "Yet they're all ready to shoot you down at the same time." He sighed. "It's really frustrating." "Don't feel bad, Sam. It's frustrating for them too. They want it, in many cases, but they are afraid to get pregnant or get a reputation as loose. Or just feel guilty." He nodded, sipping from his drink. He really was good looking. His hair was light brown, like his eyes. He was tall and well formed, with a cute little ass and a whopper of a penis: Any girl who passed this up was stupid. Or too tight: Nancy had a tiny pussy diameter and preferred them "long and lean." She would run screaming in terror if she saw Sam's monster. "Or a disease," Sam added and I nodded. "I was bad. I sucked you off without anything." "Well, I know I don't have anything. I volunteer for hospice and get complete blood tests every six months. I work a lot with AIDS patients," he added uncomfortably. "I hope that doesn't bother you." "Not at all," I told him. "I think its wonderful. I'm certified clean. I just went through the whole mess. How long since you were checked? How many girls have you had since?" Sam laughed. "Oh, hundreds!" He smiled ruefully. "Actually, I've had two dates in the past six months, and one didn't even kiss me. The other one screamed at me when I touched her breast." "So we're safe?" I asked, knowing the answer did not matter. I wanted his cock in me, as far as it would go, his naked, hard cock, bumping my cervix with each thrust. He nodded eagerly and took me in his arms. I was still naked from the waist up and his hands slid over my breasts as he embraced my bare back. His hands kneaded my back, very expertly. I moaned. "God, you do that well," I told him. "It's just a back rub," he said, and kissed me. We dallied, standing there in the middle of the living room, swapping spit and rubbing tongues and enjoying, savoring, each other. His hands wandered over my back and began to massage my bare ass. God, he was strong and it felt wonderful. He stepped back. "Lay on the couch," he said. "I want to see your... womanhood." "Call a spade a spade, Sam. It's my twat, my pussy, my cunt, my slit. Don't worry about offending me. Sex can be really dirty. I like that. It turns me on if you want to tell me, in the crudest language possible, what you are doing or want to do to me." He smiled at me and I moved to the couch and lay back on it. I had never quite voiced that aloud before, but I did like dirty sex. Albert always tried to make it... antiseptic, almost, and got upset if I left a wet spot on the bed. I liked the sweat, the moisture, the grunts, the tastes and smells. I loved the fact that sex was nasty, because it made it more fun. Maybe, considering the way I was raised, that wasn't surprising. Mom had never spoken about IT, that terrible IT, except to say how bad and nasty and dangerous and disgusting IT was. I guess in my little girl brain, IT became a fascinating, and nasty, thing. So nasty, dirty real sex turned me on. I reveled in the vile, wonderful thing I was doing. It made me a whole woman, instead of the crippled creature my mother had become. Shit. I was about to get fucked and I was playing psychoanalyst. But at least I'm a damned fast psychoanalyst, because all of this flitted through my mind as Sam moved around the coffee table and knelt on the floor beside me. He touched my sheer red thong and I spread my legs for him, letting him see and explore whatever he wanted. He gently pulled the panties aside, and began to touch my pubes. He ran his fingers over my outer lips, then pulled them open to reveal my cleft beneath. I moaned in anticipation and pleasure. The panties slipped back over my pussy, and he began to push them aside. I almost discarded the idea that popped into my head, then realized I had told him to be direct and honest with me, so I should let him know what I wanted too. "Would you tear my panties?" I asked him. "Just rip them open so you can get at me?" He pulled at the waistband, but the material wouldn't give. I was about to tell him never mind, when I heard a click. Sam had out a box-cutter and he slit the waistband, then put it away. I could not believe either the thrill of fear when I first saw the razor, nor the thrill of excitement as he cut the waistband. I came, hard and suddenly. He watched, fascinated, as I grabbed my cunt and held it, feeling my wet orgasm dripping through my fingers (this is back when I thought a wet orgasm was just dripping a little moisture, but that's another story too). I realized I was making the couch wet, and that realization caused another little eruption from my twat, even wetter this time. "Oh, God, Sam! Fuck the mess. Do whatever you want to me. It all cleans." Typical housewife, huh? In the middle of one of the best orgasms of my life, and I am already thinking of getting out the stains. Oddly, the stains turned me on. I remembered my mother pointing at the stains in the crotch of my panties, caused by a little urine loss or left there when I masturbated. I learned to have a certain perverse pride in doing the things my mother so obviously disapproved of, even though I felt guilt as well, because I had fallen short of my mother's expectations. Those thoughts disappeared instantly as Sam tore my panties open. The thong had little material, so he tore them straight down the front from the waist. I looked down and the panties were ruined (and I loved it: destroyed, ruined, ripped panties...) and my pussy hair was revealed, a short mat of light brown hair (I had learned to keep it shaved short from Nancy) covering the mound. He pulled the panties open again and tore them once more, revealing my twat, glistening wet in the lamplight. He bent over me and put his tongue on me. I knew I was soaked and sweaty and probably tasted pretty strong, but he seemed excited by it as he licked and mouthed me, sucking my twat up into his mouth, then letting it go, opening it with his fingers and looking at it. He again began to lick me, coming up from my pussy hole and sliding to my clit. He licked my clit, gently but firmly, and I arched in excitement. Then he ran his tongue down and found my urethra and licked it. Jesus, it was both sensitive and very sexy. Oh God, yes, he would lick my piss hole! Then his tongue found my cunt and he slid up inside. Oh, Christ, I was on fire. I didn't care what he did to me at that point, as long as he didn't stop. I felt his hand under my ass, and his finger slide along my moist ass crack until he found my asshole. He continued to lick and suck my twat as his wet finger reamed around the outside of my ass. This is something I often do when masturbating, so it was especially exciting. Then his finger pushed in and slid up inside my asshole, deep inside of me. His tongue found my clit and his other hand pushed up inside my pussy. I grabbed his head, pushing his face deep into my twat. His tongue on my clit, his chin pushing on my vagina, his fingers in my vagina, another probing deep in my ass, pulling them apart and... I screamed as I came, a hoarse, strangled cry of pleasure and desire. I felt my cunt and ass tighten on his fingers as I came, and that pressure brought another wave of pleasure. I couldn't breath as I jerked, helplessly, coming again and again. I sat half way up as the whole room imploded and I had another massive orgasm. I don't remember anything right after that. Sam later told me I fainted dead away, and he was so upset, he almost called 911 and told them he thought he had accidentally almost killed me and hurry over to rescue me! Poor kid. I woke up to his light brown eyes looking into mine. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously. "I was really worried." I looked around the room. I was still on the couch, my skirt up around my waist and a big wet spot on the couch. That was my wet, I realized with excitement. That was all my own pleasure, marked right there for the world to see. I looked up at Sam. "I'm wonderful, Sam," I assured him. "I must have passed out." "Does that happen often?" he asked. This had obviously scared him. "Not often enough," I told him. "Jesus, you were fantastic!" He nodded and blushed at the same time. His mouth was still wet with my twat and I kissed him, tasting myself on his tongue and lips. God, that was so sexy! "You want to sit up?" He helped me sit up on the couch. I was still a little dizzy (I later figured out I got so excited I kind of forgot to breathe. Jesus, what a way to go!) but my head settled. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to scare you like that." I leered over at him. "Did you do anything to my unconscious body, while I was unaware and helpless?" He looked at me and smiled wanly. "I never even thought of it. I was too busy trying to remember my CPR classes." I began to laugh, helplessly. Poor kid! I laughed and laughed and then began to cry. "Oh, god," I gasped. "I'm hysterical!" Sam did the nicest thing he could have. He gently held me in his arms. I was crying and laughing, soaked in sweat and dripping excitement, and now totally over the edge, and he just held me, tenderly but protectively, and let me laugh and cry and soak his shirt with my tears. I finally stopped (I talked to Nancy later, and she assured me that all this was a normal reaction to a monster fuck, or more accurately, a monster orgasm. So I guess I just had the best orgasm of my life). Sam was still holding me and petting my hooker- red hair. "You must think I'm a pretty awful woman," I finally said. "I lure you here, do all these nasty things, and then totally fall apart on you." I meant that. Poor guy, hoping to just get laid and he gets me, with all these new and weird (and face it, perverted) ideas running around my head. Jeeze, I was lucky he didn't just run out of the house into the night when I passed out like that! "It's okay," he said softly. "I had a wonderful time." "Even with me passing out?" I asked. "Hey, you had a good orgasm, didn't you? Isn't that the important thing?" I wanted to hug him, but I already was. "You haven't come inside of me yet. Or on me. Aren't you pretty horny?" "I'm dying of horny," he admitted. "But we'll wait till you're feeling better. Come on." He got up and led me to the bed. I realized there was no way I was getting into bed without a shower. "Sam, I'm a mess. You want to take a shower together?" He grinned. A few minutes later we were in the shower. I turned off the water and soaped up his massive cock (God, it was cool. I mean, here I am, cavern cunt, and I find this huge guy to fill me!). I began to gently massage his cock and balls, and to rub the deep purple head of his cock. He moaned in pleasure as he kissed me and felt my wet, slick body. It was not long before he began to tighten up and get ready to come. I knelt down and let him come in my face, opening my mouth to taste it and loving the feeling his jism dripping down my face and in my mouth. Then I stood up and kissed him, my face wet with his come. He kissed back eagerly, sucking his own come off of me. Then we went to bed, to kiss and snuggle and touch and... I woke up hours later. Shit! I fell asleep on him! Sam was curled up beside me, a satisfied smile on his lips. I snuggled up against him and smiled to myself. There was always tomorrow morning.