HIS NEW SWEETIE SHOWS HIM WHAT’S SWEETER THAN ICE CREAM: THEIR CREAM
I had a book of Bukowski’s poems on my lap and Coltrane blowing his own poetry thru his sax on the CD player. I wondered why women go for assholes, guys who just want what’s between their legs, with no respect at all.
My year-and-a-half relationship had ended several months ago. I had drowned myself in work and reading, controlling carnal desires by masturbating at least three times a week. I’m not unattractive, or too shy to meet people. I didn’t know where to find the
right
women.
The bookstore offered nice sights, but they all seemed to have boyfriends. Bars were filled with horny assholes and drunk women who just played games. I wanted to meet someone special, someone I could have a
conversation
with after a night of love-making.
I had about given up when one night I went to the snowball stand near me. Ahead of me in line was a brunette with a firm ass and heavenly legs. I begged the gods to get her to turn around. At that moment she glanced back, right into my eyes.
I couldn’t help but fall in love with this green-eyed goddess. Her face was like silk. Her lips were just right for savoring and sensually sucking. Her eyes said she might be interested in this lonely poet gazing at her.
While she ordered, I told myself I had to say
something
. I couldn’t pass this up. What did I have to lose? But what to say to this beauty?
“I’ll take a large sky-blue with marshmallow,” she told the clerk in a silky voice.
And I blurted out, “You know, ice cream would go better with that snowball.”
I regretted it immediately. But I do like ice cream with snowballs, and anyway I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I was astonished when she turned to me and said, “I can think of tastier places to put ice cream than the bottom of a snowball.”
In her eyes I saw a look of total sexual desire. She had signaled me to grab her and whisk her away to my place to find out what was really tastier. I had a pretty good idea that
she
would be.
“My name is Terry,” I said, “and I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are.”
“Well, I’m Elizabeth, and all I needed was your smile to tell me you want me.”
By now her snowball was done. I ordered mine, cherry with vanilla ice cream on the bottom. She waited next to me, dipping her spoon into the gooey marshmallow and bringing it to her mouth, licking the white mess off with a pink tongue that whispered, “I want this to be you.”
After paying, I turned and asked Elizabeth if she’d like to come back to my place.
“Sure, we can find out which is more fun to lick off our hot bodies, my marshmallow or your ice cream.”
I wanted to grab her hand and run home, but I didn’t want to screw this up. It had been too long for me to scare off a willing woman when I needed her the most.
We reached my place. I fired up the CD player, and sensual jazz came through the speakers. Elizabeth came up behind me, placed her hand on my chest and traced circles down to the top of my pants. “Let’s get these clothes off, shall we?”
I turned around and drew her to me. We stood there with our mouths dancing and our hands exploring every curve of each other’s body. Elizabeth pulled my shirt up over my head and sucked on my nipples. This had never happened to me. Despite the tickle, orgasmic tingles ran up my spine.
Thinking had yielded to pure desire. I lifted Elizabeth’s T-shirt to find firm breasts hiding behind a black see-through bra. The nipples were as hard as my love member. I undid the clasp and bared those milky breasts. My mouth plunged to the half-dollarsize nipples. She moaned as my tongue traced around each nipple, then swallowed it whole.
Her magic fingers unbuttoned my pants. She lowered my pants and boxers, then applied her mouth to the place right under the head of my cock where the Garden of Eden became man’s again. Pulling back from my swollen shaft, she reached for her snowball and spooned marshmallow all over my penis.
“This will be sticky,” I thought, “but it’ll be worth it.”
She dove back to my rod and sucked the marshmallow off with such vigor that I didn’t think I could hold on any longer. She wrapped her lips around the cockhead and got her tongue beneath my penis, then slid down and back, down and back.
Eyes closed, she bobbed all the way down to the tuft of my pubic hair and back up, almost but not quite lifting completely off. Her rocking head pulled me to the edge of climax. I moaned. A growl emanated from me. It was the most amazing experience I’d had.
By now all the marshmallow was gone from my penis. As she withdrew to the head, I knew I was about to come and screamed out, “Please, please don’t stop.” She glanced up, smiled and dove slowly down my shaft one last time, all the way to my pubic hair, swallowing everything male about me.
I exploded. She enjoyed it more than the marshmallow!
As waves of ecstasy rippled through me, she stood up and said, “It’s your turn to show me how good that ice cream really is.”
I nudged her gently to the floor and removed the rest of her clothes. She spread her legs wide. Her clit peeked out of her folds, gleaming with desire. I ran my fingertips over her hard nipples and traced figures all over her body, skipping only her most private area. I fingered the inside of her thighs. Her back arched and her butt scooted closer.
My fingers had done their job. It was time for the ice cream. I poured the snowball ice into a cup sitting on a table, then spooned some ice cream out. It was cold, but she wanted it. Her eyes cried out pleas for me to give her pussy and clit complete attention.
I lowered the spoon between her legs and smeared ice cream on her hard clit. She bucked at first. Goose bumps popped up all over her beautiful skin. I smeared more over the outer folds of her pussy. It melted right away. I lowered my head into her love zone and lapped up every last bit.
Her body rocked back and forth, up and down. At times it was hard to keep up with her writhing orgasms, but I managed to keep my tongue stuck to her cunt, because I wanted her so much. I enjoyed every moan she let out as I ate her out.
When the ice cream was gone, I kissed her clit, then unleashed my tongue on the erotic spot. As I worked on it with my lips and tongue she had another orgasm, yelling, “Oh my God, oh my God, you are my fucking soul.”
When her body turned to mush, I worked my way up to her mouth with kisses and Frenched her for a while.
“That was the best experience I’ve had,” she said. “You are a wonderful lover.”
I looked down at the rug and saw drops of our come. Elizabeth noticed them too. “Looks like you found something tastier than your ice cream, huh?”—
T.F., Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
LATE NIGHT SPEEDING GETS HER A TICKET TO PARADISE
About five years ago I worked nights from about eight till four in the morning. I liked it; the commute wasn’t bumper to bumper and most of the time the sunrises were out of sight.
Anyway, the hour of freeway driving through pretty countryside was calming, and gave me a chance to daydream.
One morning I was daydreaming too much. I was snapped out of it by a cop’s flashing red lights and his siren telling me to pull over. I remember fumbling for my license as I tried to figure out if I had been speeding or had done something else worthy of attention from this man in blue.
Actually, I couldn’t tell whether he was in blue or black or what, because the sun wasn’t up. The side mirror gave me a view of a very tall figure silhouetted against the spotlight. His gait was very slow and deliberate. He stepped heavily on the stones of the road’s shoulder. I wondered what was behind the uniform—man or beast? Could I talk my way out of this, or was I going to get stuck with another ticket I couldn’t pay?
I was expecting “driver’s license and registration please!” from a bent figure looking into my window. I got those words, but they seemed to come from a torso in a starched, black-belted, accessory-clad uniform on a nicely muscled body.
As my outstretched arm handed him the papers I accidentally brushed his belt. That’s how close he was to the car. He didn’t move back, as I’d assumed he would. Instead he stood very still and did his paperwork.
He didn’t say a word, but I could hear his breathing. And it was faster than I would have guessed it would be. Could he be turned on, I wondered.
I extended my arm out the window and “accidentally” let it touch his belt again. He didn’t move, much to my delight. I did it again, this time brushing his crotch. This time he moved, but not back. His crotch got tighter than it already was.
I began caressing his crotch, and he got even more excited. By this time so was I. Unzipping his pants was a risk, but a risk worth taking, as I wanted to see how far this dude in blue was ready to go with me.
I hardly got him fully unzipped when out sprang a fine cock. It wasn’t the biggest I’d ever seen, but a real work of art—straight, veiny and perfectly cut, making the proud mushroom cap even more proud.
Still he hadn’t moved. I wasted no time. First I applied a timid kiss, then sucked the mushroom between my moist lips. Then I went the whole nine yards—in and out and swirling around— everything I could think of. Still he didn’t move. What is this guy, I wondered, a rock?
I increased the depth of my throating. I quickened the pace. He didn’t flinch, but his breathing became faster and louder. I then used my hands to caress him, alternating lips and fingers. This must have been the magic, because he began to thrust his hips. The thrusting was followed by three streams of his juice, filling my mouth to the rim before I could withdraw and swallow. Damn, I thought. He looks good, he smells good and he even tastes good.
I licked his dick clean and put it back in his pants. When I’d zipped him up he still hadn’t moved, except to hand me a ticket and walk back to his car. I could see more of him now. The sun had begun to rise.
He was indeed tall. I just wish he’d been more generous, considering what had taken place. Oh well, I thought. You don’t always get what you want, but you may get what you need. Yes, I wanted to blow a studly cop this morning—but I’d have preferred not getting a ticket.
The next morning I saw the ticket on my dresser. It was blank, except for a name and phone number.—
K.L., Blytheville, Arkansas
MOM AND DAUGHTER BOTH LIKE IT DOGGIE-STYLE
What an incredible couple of weekends! My parents have a friend named Georgette, who was planning a week’s vacation in Miami with her kids. I met her last year for a quick five minutes and she seemed like a nice enough woman. My folks told me she would be in Florida and that it would be nice of me to visit her. You know parents.
I was going to say no, but my dad was going to make a big thing out of it. She was a family friend, it was only a ninety-minute drive and what else was I doing anyway? I agreed to meet them at the condo that she time-shared on the beach. Good call.
Talking with my parents about her, I found out she’d been divorced for three years and only recently started dating again. They told me I should show her a good time. My father added that she was looking forward to spending time alone with me, away from her daughters, and we should make plans to spend one day of her vacation here in Pembroke Pines. I’ve been single for about six months, so I figured what the hell. If she wanted a good time, I would oblige.
A few weeks later I decided I would definitely go see her. My dad hinted something to the effect that she was expecting something sexual to happen when she came down. It was all set up for me, all I had to do was drive down the following weekend.
Georgette called me the day before her plane was to land, and we talked for maybe half an hour. It was just small talk, getting to know each other better and finalizing directions on how to get to her condo. Then she started talking about how great it would be if her daughter and I hit it off. That’s when I discovered that her oldest daughter was eighteen (I’m twenty-four), and Georgette just couldn’t stand the loser that her daughter was dating.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got to Miami the next day. Was the woman interested in me for herself, or in getting me together with her daughter? I’d never imagined being in a situation quite like this.
I arrived at seven in the evening, and met her two daughters, Kathi and Pam. We all sat around and made conversation for a few hours, killing time until the dance clubs got rolling at around ten. Pam was quite a looker: a very petite five-four, with a twenty-three-inch waist. She couldn’t have weighed more than ninety-five pounds.
We were getting along fine, and we all headed to the club. Pam and I immediately hit the dance floor. Her boyfriend said he just wanted to soak up the atmosphere and watch for a while. We danced a few songs, then broke for refreshments.
I told her she was a fabulous dancer, and she shocked me by saying, “I should hope so, I only do it for a living. It’s different dancing and not taking off my clothes, though.” I should have guessed that little secret from the way she was gyrating her hips. Boy, was she sweet! I wasn’t sure what to do. Her man was there, so I tried to keep my distance from Pam. At the same time, I still wanted to let her know I was interested. And then I was also flirting with Georgette. It was a difficult task, and it got harder to keep my hands to myself the more I had to drink.
We would be going back to the condo soon. Pam danced up close and said to me, “I know a great way we can cool off later. How would you like to go skinny-dipping in the ocean when we get back?” Would I ever! I almost grabbed her right there.
The sleeping arrangements pretty much sucked. Pam’s sister was in the bedroom, so the rest of us were sleeping in the living room. Pam and her mother settled down on the sofa sleeper, and I took the cushions on the floor. Both of them fell asleep right away. I guess it was the fatigue of flying all day. I wanted to ask Pam about that dip, but I decided not to, as I might wake her mom.
In the morning I woke up horny, as usual, and decided to shake Pam and see if she still wanted to go for a swim. She did, so we snuck out and headed for the ocean.