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The prosecutor extended her right hand, lightly scratching the underside of
my scrotum and trailing the sensation up to my member. I closed my eyes,
trying to fill my thoughts with non-sexual themes, attempting to distract
myself as she gently stroked and fondled my penis. The futility of this
strategy was immediately evident as she began to stroke my hair and face
with her free hand and cooed a soft, low noise inaudible to everyone except
me. When her perfume once again invaded my olfactory senses, my resistance
was entirely broken down as my penis rapidly stiffened in her fingers.
Having won the battle to get my organ to respond to her touch, she began to
sculpt it, to stimulate it in such ways that it grew readily into the shape
…End of the part3. To be continued..

Merry Christmas! If you aren’t old enough to vote, please find
something more suitable for you to read. These works pop out of
my own head, so unless you’re one of the voices in there, this
work is mine, just ask if you are interested. Comments Grovelled
for.
******
Written with much love for my buddy Wiseguy. Love you! I’m
glad you enjoyed it!
********

She quietly closed the door. It took two readings of “The
Polar Express”, one “Night before Christmas” and “The Fourth
Wise Man” to get the two wiggle worms to fall asleep.
Threatening that Santa wouldn’t come until they were asleep
didn’t seem to do any good.

“Mark, They’re asleep.” She stage whispered down the hall. “I
need your help bringing down the rest of the gifts.” She heard
him bound up the carpeted stairs, his long legs taking them
three at a time. She walked down the hall ahead of him into
their bedroom, where Santa’s presents were waiting in their
closet.

“Here. You take these, I’ve got these. One more trip should do
it.” They quietly carried the beribboned booty back down the
stairs.
“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus….” Rang low through the stereo
speakers as they placed the presents carefully around the tree.

“You filled the stockings?”

“Mmhmm. Did you remember that present we hid in the office
closet? What possessed you to buy such a large one?”

She smiled at him. “Oh, stop being such a bah humbug.” He
grinned back.

“One more job to do!” He said with a salacious look on his face.

“What’s that?”

“Well, Santa needs to eat his milk and cookies.”

“Oh, Really?” she asked as he sat down in his recliner. She
took the plate off the mantel and straddled his lap.

“Which one would you like first?” her eyes twinkled
mischievously.

“That one.” He pointed. He took a bite as she held it out for
him. “Oh, wow. These are awesome, Kit. You have got to make
these again next year.”

She giggled as he dropped crumbs all down his front.

“Such a sloppy Santa. Do you need some help?”

With a twinkle in his eye, he answered, “Of course, are you
going to clean me up, Mrs. Claus?”

“Kitty Claus. I like the ring of that.”

Mark nearly snarfed. “My Kitty does not have claws. Come here…”

Mark pulled her down in front of the fire they’d built in the
fireplace. Some show the kids watched said that the fire needed
to be there, or Santa wouldn’t come. Since it was on TV of
COURSE it had to be true, but the fire was welcome. Mark placed
the cookies on the hearth before leaning back and wrapping his
arm around Kit. He nuzzled her ear and murmured, “The kids are
asleep.”

“Why Santa.” She grinned as she leaned into his oncoming kiss.
Her fingers came up to his jaw, stroking the beard as his tongue
flickered against her cheek. She turned in his embrace, catching
…End of the part1. To be continued..

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She was a Dutch girl from Utrecht, and she took her job pretty seriously. But every now and then she clicked over to a Dutch women’s forum to read up on other women and their bumps. Most of the topics were standard – about hormones and the nesting instinct – but one caught her eye.

‘Does your pregnancy make you insatiable?’it read in Dutch. She went on to explore the list and read the testimonies of many different Dutch women who found themselves not only with morning sickness in the first trimester, but craving physical attention from their husbands.

Though she would blush to admit it to anyone in the office, these women were right. She had never felt (or it seemed looked) as sexy as she did when she was pregnant.

Her ash brown hair looked alive. The early wrinkles under her eyes seemed to heal up.

It must be a girl she thought – for all of these female hormones to be exploding all over her body.

‘Oh my God – it’s so sexy’ she thought. She thought of her husband Max fucking her the way he did. He was a really good lay – and he had a nice sized dick. Just the thoughts of sizing up her husbands elephant trunk exciting her and she thought she really just had to go pee to cool herself off, and let some of that hot piss satisfy her for now.

She got up from the desk and started to walk towards the door when Robert came in.

Robert was about 7 years younger than she was, she reckoned, and he was the cutest boy at work – the one that was a little shy, but with a sweet side. The one, who if stuck on a desert island with, she would have no problem using to continue the human species.

‘Good morning, Robert,’she said in her soft Germanic accent. ‘Good morning, Greta’he replied. There was something so comforting in his body – she thought. Whenever she had to get close to him in the office it was as if every muscle relaxed. Sex signals, she thought. Radar. She was no twit. Buts she had a date to go the restroom and to ease her itch.

In the restroom she guided herself towards the last stall and sat down. There was a newspaper on the floor and she began to read on about those funny Americans Jessica Simpson and Angelina Jolie – as her naked finger snaked its way up and down her ravine.

She looked down and she liked what she saw. She loved her vagina – and she loved it more now that she was pregnant. She loved tracing a signature over her pink lips and relished pushing her clit ever so slightly. She began to work her slender fingers and developed a sort of groove or rhythm as she read on about the news. She knew she really shouldn’t get off in the ladies toilet, but her finger kept its rhythm and so she began to squeeze her leg muscles and rub her flesh.

She began to think about Max and his big muscle and how it filled her box up. She really enjoyed the late night fuckings they had had. But she knew that not just Max could get her off in a quick way so she would have to go a little dirty. As she toyed with her wet flesh she began to envision another man – a bit silent, a bit dark, but handsome and warm – with a long body, and a long penis.

As he guided her to the bed in her fantasy she opened herself to him and let him have his way with her. She enthusiastically sucked him and let him have her ass and her face and finally her pussy – yes her pussy, where he would shoot his thick hot load. Mmm. The pleasure.

She continued to itch at herself – building a rhythm and embracing the strong man of her fantasy who took her ass, who took her everything, who used her like a rubber and threw her away.

Christ he was big. He stretched her with that big cock… GASP. When you withhold a loud orgasm the one that comes is a bit different and Greta essentially felt her body implode. It was like that idea of seeing stars. She felt a bit delirious and her body began to chill and convulse. Cold sweat built up on the back of her neck. She was light headed but then reclaimed her sense of place

‘Ah,’ She thought. ‘Now that is what English-speakers call ‘the big O.”

After she had calmed her pink pussy lips in the ladies, Greta returned to clarity. She remembered that Max was having a show that Thursday night in a comedy production in North Beach.

She had promised him to get as many of her coworkers to come, and so she dutifully announced to her coworkers when she got back from the ladies that they should all come and spend $5 to see Max and his colleagues perform at the church.

‘I’m going, Robert’ said matter of factly. ‘My girlfriend’s sister is in that show.’

Robert looked cute, Greta thought in a relaxed way. Maybe he was her mystery date in the ladies. ‘Oh,’ Greta smiled from behind her work station. ‘See you there.’

BARE AS A BODKIN

City Thursdays in Spring sometimes were wet and moist, sometimes were cold and windy, but on special occasions were humid and warm a prelude to summer.

Bars filled up after work, and all the good looking city people got together to drink beer, shoot pool, and engage in ancient courting rituals.

While Katrina and Robert needed neither spirits nor atmosphere to get their grooves on, they decided to have a few beers before catching her sister Lila in the show at St. Agnes.

The performance was called “Bare as a Bodkin” and it was some sort of raunchy take on Shakespeare. As they walked to the theater the two began to hold hands.

‘You know some people from work might be here tonight,’ Robert said trying to make small talk.

‘Oh yeah, who?’ asked Katrina. ‘Well, I know that Greta’s husband Max is performing, so I guess we’ll see Greta.’

‘Oh’ said Katrina. ‘That’s cool.’

Robert could tell that Katrina was a bit jealous. The truth was she knew that he probably liked her – she knew her boyfriend’s postures, his language, the way he said a woman’s name. Sensing his girlfriend’s apprehension he decided to proclaim her lack of accessibility to him.

‘Yeah, she’s expecting,’ he said.

‘Oh yeah?’ Katrina said, returning from her analytical detachment. ‘How far a long is she?’

‘Three months, ‘Robert answered.

When they got to St. Agnes they saw that it was going to be a big show. The line was out the church’s basement door and all sorts of hipster kids were outside smoking and joking.

Katrina and Robert waited in line, and slowly worked their way to the table where two young women, dressed as nymphs out of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, took their $10 and stamped their hands. They then proceeded into the main chamber, which was entirely black and surrounded by bleachers. Katrina and Robert worked their way up to the top of one side and got a good seat.

Robert strained to recognize any of the guys from work, but couldn’t see anybody. Then out of the corner of his eye he spied her shape across the stage and at the front row. She was dressed in a dark velvety dress and had on black heels. She looked SEXY.

The bleachers began to fill up until the whole room was heavy with breathing and anticipation – when one of the nymphs came on stage and launched into a very risque sonnet. The audience laughed, but Robert was preoccupied with the mass across from him. He thought about her bump and he felt a noticeable twang in his penis.

There were several men on stage, but Robert couldn’t tell which one was Max. He assumed he was the bigger guy – but who knew. All he knew is that he just wanted to keep sneaking glances at his coworker Greta, and he did until she got up about half an hour into the show – just about the same time he felt a pressure on his bladder from the beer he had had earlier.

He asked one of the non-acting nymphs to point him towards the restrooms and she instructed him to go through a series of doors towards the back of the church, behind the kitchen. He almost got lost, but finally wound his way through the maze to the men’s restroom where he let go of his huge burden. He cleaned himself off and buttoned up and turned around to leave, all the time thinking of Greta and her legs and her bump, and her smile. He ‘must have a crush’he thought, hoping that if he classified his emotions they would go away.

But then he saw her coming the opposite direction. In her gorgeous medieval outfit. Their eyes met and he felt like he had been shot with 120 volts of energy.

‘Hi Greta.’

‘Oh – it’s so good you came,’ she said. She seemed cheerful and less industrious than her normal workself. They exchanged a bit of awkward body language but then Robert blurted out ‘You look really nice tonight.’

‘Thank you, so do you’ she said. This was terrible he thought. He had to do something. He had to say something, and the alcohol in his system just let his true thoughts slip out without warning.

‘I think you look really nice – especially because you are pregnant,’ he said.

‘Oh you are not the only one who has noticed,’ Greta replied with a grin. ‘I have noticed too. I think I am having a girl because of all this estrogen in my body. ‘She reached down and touched her bump and moved closer to him.

‘Here, feel,’ she said. ‘Feel my bump.’ She pulled her nervous hand closer and put it on her belly.

The bump felt somewhere between soft and hard. He was nervous to touch it too heavily, but felt calmed by the bump. She looked up at him, a kind of deep glare in her eyes and breathed heavily. ‘You know Robert,’ she said with a hysterical tinge to her voice.

‘I really want to kiss you. Will you kiss me?’

he leaned forward and kissed her forehead and then her nose, and then…my God…her mouth. ‘I just feel so sexy since I have been pregnant,’ Greta said sensitively, wrapping her arms around his tree trunk of a waist. ‘I just feel so aroused all the time.’

They began to kiss and Robert felt like a 14 year old in the middle of his first time. The air seemed so cold and he felt afraid because he was kissing another man’s wife, and afraid because she was pregnant, but overwhelmed by whatever pheromones escaped from her body and deeply in love with her scent, a scent he had breathed so deeply.

‘Please come with me’ she said, leading him down a hall way through a door to a dark room. She flicked on a switch and there hung many robes worn by priests and lay people.

‘Here’ she said, ‘help me take this thing off.’ Robert helped her lift the skirt off her trim body revealing nothing underneath but her angelic form – her tiny, yet swollen breasts, like a 15 year-old’s, so soft they would fit perfect in his hand. And of course her tummy, which started at the base of her rib cage, and protruded out in a natural arc just like he had thought of – perfect, hot and growing.

‘Can I?,’Robert hesitated. ‘Can I kiss it?’ She planted hot kisses on his cheeks and guided his face down to her bump. He kneeled before her and began to plant little daisies of kisses along the lining of her skin, hiding them in her pelvic valleys, and stopping to feel her curly black pubic hair tickle his chin.

She looked so gorgeous in the cloakroom light and he felt a bit overwhelmed down on his knees. But he stood up and she began to unbutton his shirt and pants. They soon were both completely hot and naked and she decided to take advantage of the situation.

‘Robert – I want you to fuck me’she said. ‘I want you in every orifice of me’she said as she guided his cock towards her thigh. She then slowly kneeled down and began to plant kisses along his rod, looking up to savor the feeling of another man’s big dick in her palm. Robert, as she expected, was quite long and thick and engorged by the sight of her angelic body. She felt so hot as she let his big thickness come into her mouth. She toyed with his p-spot as he grabbed masses of her hair and stood at attention and continued to bob her head up and down on his big dick. He mumbled and a certain giddiness began to spur in his testes as the night air hit his shaft as she savored him. He thought about where he would fuck her, in her throat, in her puckered little ass, that tight little ass, and finally deep in her mystic oven, where the next generation was brewing.

=============================================================

>Sure… send it my way. Like I said… I remember pregnancy… I wished HE
>would have found me attractive then… of course, I looked and felt like a
>beached whale…
>
Gee. . . Sounds like my wife felt.
I was looking at her, so radiantly pregnant, and so gorgeous,
and she was complaining that she looked FAT!
To me, a glowingly pregnant woman is the most beautiful thing
in the world. It gave me a constant hard-on, and she couldn’t
understand it. The other thing that it did, is make me envious.
God! how I wished that I could take her place for a while.
(So did she, and she told me so. . . repeatedly.)

I always have fantasies about being a girl, and getting and being
pregnant. If I was a girl, I probably would have been knocked-up
at age-11, and continuously pregnant since then, during the times
I wasn’t nursing. I guess, it’s really a good thing I WASN’T born
a girl. Anyway, that’s why so many of my stories involve
little girls fucking their fathers. Where else would they even have
a chance, that someone who really loved them, was the one who got
them pregnant? (This always assumes that the little girl seduces
the man, not vice-versa, as usually happens in real-life. Oh well,
that’s why it’s a story.)

Maybe that part, I didn’t make clear in the story. June had made VERY
extensive checks on “Jones” before bringing her daughter over. she had
not only checked him out, but had talked to several of his “bottoms”, and
even observed a couple of his “training” sessions, as a helper, and once
she had let him demonstrate on her, though it wasn’t her “bag” so to speak.
By the time the story starts, the two were good friends, and he had been
teaching her things to use on her daughter, as Lynn had fallen for the
whole bondage-thing through reading about it. After a while though, second-
hand, amateur knowledge wasn’t enough, and Lynn had asked to be introduced
to an expert.

LYNN was a trusting soul, and had never been really hurt in her life.
She had NEVER been abused, not even by a school-bully. She thought
EVERYONE was like the people in the stories she read, caring and thinking
about the other person, even when designing tortures for them, so that
in the end, the recipient always loves the “master” for what he/she does.
Lynn, to put it bluntly, was a romantic.

Her mother June, was anything but. She would go to great lengths to
protect her daughter, and had the personality, and ability to do it.
She’s as tough as a marine drill-sergeant, and could lick double her
weight in professional bar-bouncers. She would do anything to give
Lynn what she felt the girl needed, and if it was a professional B&D
experience, or a baby in the belly, she would see to it.

Perhaps there’s another thing I didn’t make clear, though there are
hints all through the story. “Joe” was a “professional” By that,
I mean he did it for a living. He was good, because he had to be.
He had a business, and he advertised, and he relied on repeat business.
June wouldn’t have set this up with anyone else. He did enjoy his
work, but nobody who gets into THAT line of work does so, if they
don’t like it. Joe prided himself on giving the customer EXACTLY
what he/she ordered. If they wanted to be marked for 3 days, Joe
provide welts and abrasions that would be not noticeable by that
dreaded 4-day-from-now meeting. His customers relied on him, and
he supplied. Joe wasn’t the “best” top in the city, but he was the
best “professional” one. All the others who were any good, did it
for personal pleasure, and quite often paid for the privilege, or
had a “stable” of “bottoms” to work with. Word-of-mouth sort of thing.

IN> about the building of trust, the reliance on trust, and the fantastic
IN> feelings of letting go __after you really trust a person (in many
IN> cases literally with your life.) But the trust always comes first, at
IN> least in the success stories. But that’s real life, or as close as
IN> the world of BD gets to real life, so maybe my comments do not apply
IN> here.

As I said, Lynn trusted EVERYBODY. Really TRUSTED them.
NOT a good idea, as the second story points out.

IN> As always, please take my comments as coming from a completely
IN> friendly direction, and not meant as criticisms of your views or
IN> positions, just as my suggestions for possible improvements in the
IN> story.

I do, I DO!

IN> Finally, I have a question to ponder. You and I like this story. Who
IN> else will? Is it silly to consider the “market” for a story which
IN> will eventually be immortalized on the net, and never see any other
IN> form of publication? What I fear is that the pedo interest may be
IN> squicked by the BD content, the BD types may be squicked by the pedo
IN> content, and the consent concerns I blathered on about above, and
IN> surely somebody will be bothered to learn that people’s mothers have
IN> an interest in sex, or have ever participated. Just something to
IN> think about. I suppose we could put it on the net, when you have
IN> edited as much as you want to, and see what kind of reaction it
IN> brings. I would be interested to see.

THAT doesn’t bother me. SOME people out there will like it.
There are LOTS of stories out there that I don’t like, and
I ignore them. I expect others to do likewise, with these two.

IN> I am looking forward to the next story you are trying to recover. I
IN> will reread this one this week, and probably send you a short list of
IN> spelling and other typographical errors that I noticed, which probably
…End of the part2. To be continued..

She moaned in frustration. She pulled the wet pink dildo out
of her glistening cunt. “Fuck! New batteries again!” she moaned,
flicking open the battery cover and dumping the rechargeables
out onto the bed. She reached for the stand pulled out the
freshly charged batteries and put them in. She looked at the
clock, figuring the battery time. 2 hours. Shit.

Sighing, she pressed the pink gel cock back into her yearning
pussy. The hum was louder now, more insistent, reverberating in
her pussy and against her clit. Yet still…

She pulled the laptop closer to her, scanning for stories that
would get her going. Going through her favorite authors…good
stories…but not enough sex. She started pulling up the stroke
that normally she wouldn’t touch–hot, nasty and fast. The
vanilla stuff wasn’t working, so it was time to find more
unusual fuel to jumpstart her motor.

Read stories on bondage. Warmer. Humiliation-warmer yet.
Aliens, dogs, horses, rape…each took her baby step closer, but
still so, so far away.

She glared at the clock, which was laughing at her. Four hours
and still no relief. She flicked on the TV and filled the room
with sounds of pornographic fucking-titled thusly as it sounds
different from your normal average fucking, because the
enjoyment sounds pathetically fake. Men with big-titted women,
women with women, women getting double fucked, and even triple
fucked.

Guess you can only listen to so many cries of “Baby ooooh,
yeah, fuck me good” before it doesn’t do anything for ya.

She groaned in frustration, reaching for her bedside drawer.
She pulled out the 10 inch, thickly veined plastic cock and
swirled it in her mouth. Once it was dripping with saliva, she
lowered it, pressing it below the still vibrating pink toy. The
pressure caused the pink dildo to vibrate more harshly against
her pubic bone as the head of the new toy popped into her sticky
pussy. Feeling quite full as she pressed the new toy deeper into
her cunt, she thought perhaps now she could finally cum.

She squirmed on the bed, her hips working against the double
assault in her cunt, and yet still she was stuck in third gear.
She screamed and cursed in frustration, moving her hips faster.
Her hands worked the two dildoes in a syncopated rhythm, moving
faster and faster. Finally, she reached for the nearby phone
and flicked off her toy’s noisy vibration.

“Hi Crissy, let me speak to Adam please?”

“Just a moment, Mrs.South.” the hold muzac came on as she
turned the vibrator back on, getting a pleasant jolt.

“Hey sweetheart, to what do I owe this surprise?”

“Do you have any meetings this afternoon?” she said
breathlessly into the phone.

“No,” he paused. “What’s that noise in the background? Are you
shaving the dog?”

“Mmmm” she answered noncommittally. “Can you come home early?”

“I guess so. You need help with something?”

“Yeah. I need something that only male muscle will fix.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can get away then. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she said as she hung up the phone.

She flicked the movie back on, and reset the vibrator to low,
knowing that relief would be there soon. She squirmed a bit on
the bed, relishing now the constant ache in her pussy. The movie
ended, and she rewound it back to the beginning, then drew the
computer near her, reading up on rough sex and humiliation. The
batteries, having gone for nearly 3 hours straight now, were
starting to give back out, so she took the next set out of the
recharger and switched them. Since she had to stop, she decided
now might be a good time to go to the bathroom, since Adam might
be home soon. When she returned, she squeezed the dildoes back
in her tight twat. She moaned and squeezed her tit, making the
nipple rise up. She pinched it between her fingers, feeling the
small shock down to her core.

It was some time before she heard the front door open. Floating
in a sexual haze, she called out, “I’m in the bedroom!”

She could hear him coming down the hall… “Honey, I brought Mike
home to help me. I figured you needed to move something heavy.”

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the bedroom door,
Mike gaping over his shoulder.

“Hi honey. You left something turned on at home.”

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

I am the author of this story.

I own the copyright of the story.

I am legally entitled to enter this contest.

This story has not been published prior to the contest.

I will not permit this story to be published during the
judging period.

If the story is selected as a finalist, I will permit
Calendar.atEROS to publish the story in Calendar.atEROS
through April 1st, 2003.

If the story is selected as a finalist, I will permit
Calendar.atEROS to publish the story in an ebook through
October 31st, 2003.

If the story is selected as a finalist, I will not permit
the story to be published outside of Calendar.atEROS prior
to April 1st, 2003.

I’m going insane.

The burning I feel in my gut, behind my eyes, in my groin…all crying out for releases of
different sorts.

Scream therapy no longer works. A beetle has crawled into my brain, making me feel
and do things that are not me. A stranger has taken residence in my body, forcing me,
creating the ache I feel. And it churns and curls in me, wrapping around my fragile
control, tightening and squeezing it, as a python would it prey. And I scream inside,
scream for the loss of me, wanting to get back to me…

No longer in control no longer in control…

Reaching out, grasping, crying for help. Curl up fetal style, pulling your arms tightly
around me. Make me forget, make me forget what I am right now.

Hand softly stroking my hair, and I feel my body tense, feel the anger surge from no
where, irrational, feelings not my own.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Anger curls, swelling and receding, leaving a miffed pressure
behind my eyes, begging to be unleashed. The poisoned tears squeeze out, as my body
shudders again. My brain hurts. My body aches.
I’m so tired. Tired of fighting the alien inside me. The control slips. I hate myself. Hate
myself for the weakness. Hate being a stranger in my own skin. I feel the creepy crawlies
take residence under my skin…nothing is comfortable. I feel jittery, as though I was on a
caffeine high. I can’t seem to keep still, the neural synapses snapping, begging for
release.

Sex.
I don’t care how. Hell, I don’t care who. Buy stock in Energizer, but that ain’t doing it
anymore either. Just fuck me. Make me forget I don’t know myself. Use that power in
me, make it melt away. Flip me, bounce me on the bed. Hell, invite your friends, fill me
with cock from all angles, drown me, drown me in sperm. Override this monster in me,
use this anger, make me scream, make me curse and act like one possessed. Make the
tingle in my skin feel positive, rather than the wanderings of a soon-to-be insane mind.

No! No, don’t make love to me! My feeble brain can’t use it…I said FUCK me. Slam my
body, slide me up against the wall roughly, take my body, until my brain slows down,
before exploding.

But my body doesn’t care. I get a moment, perhaps two, of clear thought, before my
body begs to shut my mind down again, and I am crawling over you, begging,
threatening…fuck me, or someone else will. I can see you’re tired, and it angers me
further. Some small part in the back of my head tries to pull me back, but I don’t care, all
I care about is the storm inside me, my orgasm much like the eye of a hurricane, and I’m
thrown about. I’ve lost all control, don’t want it, don’t need it.

Feel myself falling, no longer aware, blissfully unaware. I close my eyes to the feeling,
all that’s left…no thought, no anger, no fear. And even in the midst, my body grows
slack, relaxed, blessed with a mind emptied of all thought, no longer desperate, jittery.

Until the next time, which could be soon. But for a few moments, respite from the
pressing insanity.

“Stick a fork in ‘em he’s done,” was Deni’s. “When was that?”

“We went for a weekend to the shore.”

“Ooooh. We just went there! We left the kids with Josh’s mom for the weekend.” Ella smiled dreamily. “We had such a nice time…a romantic walk on the beach…and afterward…I haven’t had an orgasm like that in ages!” She blushed, then asked, “Did you have a good time?”

“Too many people. After he got the burn, we ended up coming home. No sense in staying if he had to stay inside all the time.”

“God, they’re getting old.” Deni whined.

“We all are. But, there are bonuses to being older.” Ella fiddled with her glass.

“God, what?”

“We don’t have a problem going after what we want.”

“Damn right!” Deni scanned the bar for likely suspects as she grinned.

“The stud at the next table – damn right – I need a good screwing.” Betsy commented as she raised her glass.

“Don’t we all?” Deni quipped. ” I mean, what is it with men? I could get just about any male in here. Flash a little tit, a little thigh and they’re drooling like mental patients. Marry them, and you need to drag them kicking and screaming to bed.” She paused to swig the rest of her tequila. “It’s been three weeks since I’ve had any. And then? I literally was on my knees in front of him begging. Hell, when it comes to sex, I have no pride.” She raised her hand to signal the waitress for another round.

“My problem is wham bam thank you ma’am and too bad you didn’t get a chance sweetie – I’ll try harder next time – but he never does.” Betsy answered.

“Exactly. But with a stranger? Hell, fireworks, and excitement and everything sex should be. You know what it is girls?”

They both watched Deni for her answer.

“They take us for granted. They don’t have to work to please us anymore, they already HAVE us.” The waitress put the tray down as she handed out the drinks, grinning at the women and silently nodding her head.

“Well, DUH. Tell me something I didn’t figure out after the first two years of marriage.” Ella nearly choked on her drink laughing.

“So why do we put up with it? If a stranger would treat us better, why do we put up with it?” Betsy asked.

“Because we don’t want to be alone?” Deni replied.

“Aren’t we little miss cynical!” Ella exclaimed. “You know why as well as I do. We love them. God only knows why, they certainly drive us insane, but there it is.” She took another swig of her drink. “Topic change; when was the last time your husband did something sexually surprising for you? Could be romantic or whatever.”

Betsy spoke first, “Ummm Lets restate the question. When did they EVER do something to surprise us?”

“Ethan used to bring me cards home. Used to bring me flowers for no reason. Last year after a really and I mean REALLY bad fight…he arranged for mom to take the girls while we went to a really fancy restaurant. One where we could actually hear each other, and had tablecloths.” Deni said.

“Denise Louise Richards. I said sexually surprising, I already said mine.” Ella nudged her.

“Fine. At least he’s willing to do something more than missionary. Doesn’t like anal, but he’ll play around a few times a year since he knows I do.” Deni thought for a moment. “Last year he shaved me! That counts, doesn’t it?” She grinned.

“You like anal? My husband would kill to try that out…nope, no way. Not in this lifetime.” Ella retorted.

Betsy moaned. “This is almost more than I needed to know.”

“Fine then, what does Daren do to get your motor going?” Ella answered.

Betsy laughed. “Does baking me chocolate chip cookies count?”

“Well, lets see, chocolate, sex. Chocolate. Sex.” Ella held her hands face up as though weighing the subjects. ” Close enough I guess.” She paused, “Actually, I think chocolate may be better.”

“Bite your tongue! Better than sex?” Deni said.

“Fine then. Better than bad sex. And before you start, YES there is such a thing.”

“Well, duh,” she replied, mimicking Ella, “of course there is. That’s what we’re complaining about, isn’t it? Well, quality AND quantity. What’s the longest you’ve been without?”

“Honestly?” Ella answered.

“No, lie to me,” Deni said, exasperated, “Of course honestly.”

” 20 months, 2 weeks and 3 days.”

“I think she meant since you’ve been married.” Betsy said.

“That WAS when I was married.” Ella countered.

“Ouch! And I complain about 3 months. Jesus. How did you live through it?”

“Thank god for Rechargeables and cyber is all I’ve got to say.” Ella shook her head and took a big gulp of her drink. The question ‘Why?’ hung in the air, but no one wanted to ask.

“Have you ever considered women?” Ella broke the silence.

“You mean become bisexual? What woman hasn’t?” Deni joked, then seeing the looking on Ella’s face, “You’re serious?”

Betsy answered quietly, “I’ve thought about it. I mean, hell, men aren’t doing it for me.”

“I’ve thought about it a lot. A Lot.” The women waited for her to continue. “I’ve been sorta seeing this woman online.”

“REALLY? What does Josh have to say about that? Does he even know?” Betsy asked incredulously.

“He knows. Not happy, really, but surprisingly, he’s pretty understanding about it. But I think he thinks it’s some sort of stage I’m going through.” She paused a moment, “or he thinks he can get a ménage going on.”

“Deni,” Betsy suddenly hissed, “there’s some guy staring at you.”

“Really? Where? Is he cute?” She grinned then turned around.

“Jesus, girl where were you in Clubbing 101? You don’t turn and LOOK!”

The guy was good looking. Tall, with a sexy smile that lit up his eyes. Older too, not some college brat. He raised his glass in her direction when he caught her eye. She smiled at him, and he started to walk toward their booth.

He stopped at the booth and looked down at the women, or more specifically, at Deni.

“Hi.”

It wasn’t much, but that one syllable melted over her body like rich, warm chocolate. Betsy and Ella gave her an imperceptible head nudge.

“Hi.” She managed back.

“Would you like to dance?” he held his hand out to her.

She began to stutter her apology when Ella answered for her, “Oh, go on Deni! Just remember what we had the conversation about.” She grinned at her friend as she was led out on the dance floor.

“Do you come here often?” He asked her.

“No, just once a year. You?”

“Just passing through. I like the scenery.” He smiled down at her again, revealing an adorable dimple on his right cheek. She flustered as they continued to dance on the miniscule dance floor, until she caught the eyes of her girlfriends who were egging her on. Ella’s words came back to her, and she replayed the conversation in her head as his hand softly caressed her back. She followed Ella’s advice, remembering the words she’d spoken earlier. “But with a stranger? Hell, fireworks, and excitement and everything sex should be.” Guess she was saying follow my own advice. Her body closed the gap he’d allowed, and felt her breasts brush against his chest. A quiet intake of breath was her acknowledgement. His hands continued to wander her back, up and down slowly and seductively. Each pass brought his hands lower and lower until his palms were resting over the curves of her ass, and his fingers squeezing her pelvis closer to him, feeling his own reaction against her stomach. She gasped. Maybe this is too much she thought, looking over his shoulder to her friends.

Who were no longer at the table. She could see the bills fluttering beneath the empty glasses, her own purse and bag missing. Damn them!

The song ended, and she stepped away. “I’m sorry…but my friends just left, and they have my purse. I need to go hunt them down…but it was lovely meeting you.” Deni smiled, as she stepped away.

Quickly, he fell into step with her. “That wasn’t a nice thing to do! Let me help you find them. At least this way, you have someone to help you with a plan B.”

She nodded and smiled, “Thanks. I might just have to take you up on that.” She wandered up to the bank of elevators, and pressed the floor she knew Betsy was staying on. He followed her into the elevator, rubbing her tense shoulders. “My room and car keys were in my purse…they know I can’t get home without them. What made them think this would be amusing?” she ranted idly, even while her body’s nervous system was going on overload at his touch. The elevator stopped on the floor, and she walked up to the door. It was slightly open, so she pushed it in.

“Okay guys! This isn’t funny!” The empty room echoed as she wondered where they could be.

Her purse was sitting on the closest bed with her keycard and she sighed heavily in relief, as she heard the door click shut behind her. She heard him come up behind her, and knew what was coming. She tossed the momentary qualms aside and turned into his embrace. His hold was strong, sure and sensual, as his lips kissed first her eyelids, her nose, her cheek, her jaw, before settling over her mouth.

His tongue teased her, drawing a moan from her, as his arms tightened around her suddenly slack body. Her hands drew up to play with the hair curling at the collar of his shirt. His lips left hers and skimmed down her neck to the hollow of her throat, kissing softly and making her shiver in his embrace. The buttons quickly fell open as he skimmed lower. His touch was electric. She moaned softly as his fingers tightened against her back, her hands running down to his broad shoulders. She fell back onto the bed, as he pulled off his shirt, returning to her quickly. She could feel the heat of his chest burn through the satin of her bra. It teased her already turgid nipples. Quickly, she reached behind to unclasp the bra, desperate for the feel of his hot skin against hers. The cold of his belt buckle hit her stomach and caused her to shiver again. She reached down to undo it, feeling his thickness press against her thigh as she did so. Her own skirt had magically disappeared. She lay nude beneath him, his touch causing frissions of tension to course through her body as his slacks slide down to puddle on the floor. With a moan, he fell forward on top of her, his hands running down her sides.

Slowly, he slid down her body, softly worshipping her body with his mouth as he moved until he was kneeling between her thighs. His dark smiling eyes caught her lust hazed ones before dipping into her femininity. Once, twice his tongue slid widely over her slit, dragging across her already engorged clitoris. Her breathing caught, and he felt her thighs vibrate against his cheeks. Three times, and she shrieked loudly, her inner lips fluttering spasmodically against his tongue. He pressed his tongue against her quivering flesh, and held still until the spasms passed. He rose to his knees, pressing his shaft against her humid core, and gradually slid inside. He groaned, pressing up against her pelvic bone. His hands pulled her hips against his own, her clitoris stimulated by the contact and she bucked against him. He slid and out of her relentlessly, a steady rhythm, not too fast or too slow. They both panted, moaning, otherwise silent. Her body arched as he brought her closer and closer to the brink, each breath becoming more ragged. In a sudden blaze, Deni shrieked as her body began to convulse about the bed, in the throes on a massive orgasm. And still, he kept pounding away like a metronome. His breathing was coming in hisses now, and his constant rhythm began to break down, as he roared his own completion. He fell against her, his head against her breast, while they both caught their breath.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Wow is right,” he answered as he slowly stood up, “that was wild.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” she agreed still in post orgasmic bliss.

“I need to work in the morning, so I better get going.” He zipped up his pants.

“Okay sweetheart, I’ll see you when you get home from work.” She stood up and slid her naked body against him.

“Thanks for fulfilling my fantasy…Yours is next.” She murmured against his cheek as she let him out the door.

Ella and Betsy were never going to believe it.

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