She saw where I was looking. “You like that, huh?” she asked. She put her hands on her hips and pushed her crotch forward to give me a better look at her immaculate cunt.
“I’ll bet it tastes as good as it looks,” I replied.
“You tell me.” Krissy climbed on top of me in bed, straddling my face.
I grabbed the cheeks of her ass and covered her hairless pussy with my open mouth. I knew that she liked being eaten with long, flat strokes. I licked her from asshole to clit and back again, over and over. I detected the scent of soap on her skin. The thought of her lathering up her crotch and shaving was so erotic that I hoped she would let me watch the next time she did it.
“Mmm,” she sighed. “I didn’t know if I would have time to make myself pretty for you down there, but now I’m glad I did.” Why did she say “have time”? It sounded too much like “half-time.” My dick stopped throbbing and went half-soft.
I looked Krissy sincerely in the eyes. “Honey, please,” I said. “Just let me have the game on in the background. This is one that I can’t miss.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms under her big tits. “Go ahead,” she said. “I don’t mind.” Obviously, she had something up her sleeve—or somewhere. I knee-walked down the bed, not wanting to make any sudden moves. I was just about to lean over and grab the remote when Krissy did some grabbing of her own. She reached between my legs from behind and got hold of my prick. She had moved around in bed so that her face was between my thighs. She took the head of my dick between her lips and sucked it. I’d never had a backward blowjob before. It felt good. Damned good. My cock stiffened again, but Krissy kept a good grip on it and went on sucking. Because my prick could not spring up like it wanted to, I had to keep bending over farther and farther. Soon my shoulders were pressed against the mattress and my ass was sticking high in the air. Krissy’s tongue was all over the head of my straining prick as she sucked. Her fingers were wrapped around my shaft as tight as a vise.
It was a delicious, fantastic sensation—especially when she probed my asshole with a finger. Because of my undignified position, my ass-cheeks were spread wide enough to give her easy access. Soon she was massaging my prostate like an expert, just enough to make my eyes roll up in my head, but not enough to make me spurt my load. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. Finally, though, I gasped, “Baby, let my dick go. I’ve got to come, and I can’t do it in this position.”
Krissy took her mouth off my prick, but kept a firm grip with the non-massaging hand. “Swear you won’t turn on that god-damned football game?”
Sweat dripped from my face. “I swear, Krissy. I swear!”
“Well... okay.” She let go of my dick. It sprang up against my belly. But not for long. I was between Krissy’s legs in a nanosecond, fucking her smoothly shaved pussy. I must have shot two quarts of come into that tight, pink hole.
I forgot about the other ball game. We spent the next three hours sucking and fucking. Sometime after midnight, Krissy fell asleep. It was then that I quietly phoned the local sports hotline. My team had lost. Ah well, I thought, it’s only a game. I ran my tongue over my lips and tasted once more the flavor of Krissy’s cunt. My dick rose. I scooted down under the covers, spread Krissy’s legs and licked her creamy pussy again. It never hurts to go for extra points.—
I.T., Louisville, Kentucky
WHEN A WEATHER GIRL GETS WET, A HIGH-PRESSURE SYSTEM MOVES IN
My job as an intern at a small TV station last summer consisted of “gofer” duties and running errands for the bitchy general manager. You can imagine how thrilled I was driving around town at her command, buying her tampons and picking up her dry cleaning. But hey, anything to get that college credit.
The one good thing about the job was that it put me in proximity to Wendy the weather girl. One look at Wendy—with her honey-blonde hair, oversized tits and miniskirt-perfect legs— made it obvious why she was on TV, with or without meteorology skills. She had to be the best-looking female in the tri-state area. Seriously, she couldn’t walk through a room without causing every man with a heartbeat to stare.
Phil, one of the reporters, saw me gawking at Wendy that first day. He took me aside and told me that all the weather girls in the country had one thing in common. “They’re the best pieces of ass you’ll ever fuck,” he said, his voice gruff from years of cigarettes. “Take it from me,” he added. “Even in a rinky-dink burg like this, you can bet that the weather girl only got where she is by using her mouth, her tits, her pussy and her ass.”
“But our general manager is a woman,” I said.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Like I said,” he muttered, “they’re the best. They’ll fuck anything.”
I thought Phil was just playing the cynical, hard-bitten news-hound. But later that day I saw Wendy go into the general manager’s office and close the door. She was in there a long time. I eased up beside the door and quickly deduced that the moans and groans I heard were not inspired by a discussion about an impending storm front.
Wendy’s hair was disheveled and her clothes in disorder when she emerged, and that made her look sexier than ever. I felt my dick start to get hard. Even though I knew the general manager was a bitch, I had to admit that she was damned good-looking for a woman in her thirties. So it was definitely a turn-on to think that Wendy just had sex with her. I wondered if she had Wendy eat her pussy, or if she ate Wendy’s. Hell, maybe they ate each other out.
Wendy seemed surprised to see me standing there in the hall. “Oh, hi,” she said, distracted. “Um, I’ve got to get ready for the show.”
She walked past me. Nobody else was within sight, so I decided to take my shot. I caught up with Wendy and said, “Look, would you like to go out sometime? A movie or something?”
She stopped and looked at me again. This time she really looked, like she was seeing me for the first time. “You’re one of the new guys, right?”
That was close enough to the truth—for my purposes, anyway. I said, “Yeah. My name’s Marty.”
Wendy stepped closer to me, far enough into my “personal space” to make my cock throb. Her lipstick was slightly smeared. I pictured her mouth on the GM’s pussy, licking and sucking it, pushing her tongue up inside.
“Marty, I’m horny as hell now,” Wendy said, keeping her voice low. “D’you know what I was just doing in that office?”
Her breasts were almost touching my chest, and I could smell her hair. I could not have lied if I wanted to. “I think so.”
“And what exactly do you think?” Her lips were full and pillowy, and her eyes half-closed. She couldn’t have gotten my prick any harder if she had dropped to her knees and blown me.
“I think you were having sex.”
She leaned in even closer. “That’s right. The boss sat me on her desk and ate my pussy. Now I’m all charged up and need some cock. Are you man enough to help me out?” This was like something out of a wet dream. I thought sluts like this only existed in porn movies. Compared to the low-libido girls I knew on campus, Wendy was like a species from another planet.
She didn’t wait for an answer. She knew that no man would turn down that kind of request. She led me to the office that doubled as her dressing room. I grabbed her and stuck my tongue in her mouth. Her big tits felt firm against my chest. I knew she could feel my hard dick on her belly. She unzipped my pants, reached inside them and into my boxers and pulled out my stiff hard-on.
I loved the feel of her soft hand on my cock. After a few strokes she got up on her desk, pulled her skirt up around her waist and spread her legs. She wore pantyhose with an open crotch. The short curls of her golden pubic hair were still wet and plastered against her skin, from her session with the boss.
She asked me, “Have you got a rubber on you?”
I felt like a prize jerk. “No,” I admitted weakly. I hoped I hadn’t just blown what promised to be the best piece of ass I’d ever had just because I’d ignored the Boy Scout slogan, “Be Prepared.” I don’t get lucky all that often, so I wasn’t in the habit of carrying condoms.
“Then get one out of my top left drawer,” she said, patiently. One of her hands was at her crotch, rubbing her pussy. Was she so eager to get off that she was starting without me?
There must have been three dozen rubbers in the drawer, in various packages. I picked one at random. When I unwrapped it and rolled it down onto my dick, I realized it was the kind with concentric rings of raised ridges.
“Stick it in me,” Wendy said. “I need a dick in my pussy before I can come. A nice, hard dick.”
I put my cockhead at the lips of her cunt and eased it in a few millimeters. Her pussy was slick, tight and hot. She kept rubbing her mound while I gradually gained more and more depth.
“Fuck, yeah, yeah,” she said, furiously massaging her clit. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to come!”
She threw her head back and panted as she climaxed. Her pussy opened and shut powerfully, pulling on my prick and milking it. I pumped what felt like a pint of come into the rubber’s reservoir tip.
When Wendy’s breathing returned to normal, she patted me on the shoulder and said dismissively, “Good man, What’s-Your-Name. That was great.” Then she pushed me aside and said, “But now I really do have to get ready.” My cock slipped out of her snatch. I was so dazed that I tucked it in my pants and zipped up without removing the rubber.
Wendy was as ditzy and delicious as ever on that night’s newscast. No one would have guessed that she had spent the hour before airtime getting eaten by her boss and fucked by an intern whose name she couldn’t remember.
Well, maybe one person could have guessed. Phil the reporter saw me come out of Wendy’s office that day. The front of my pants was soaked, my dick was still hard enough to be very obvious, and the ridges of the rubber made me look like I was smuggling a Slinky. I remember him shaking his head and muttering, “Like I said, they’ll fuck anything.”—
M.C., Spokane, Washington
SOME DAYS YOU EAT THE BEAR, AND SOME DAYS THE BEAR EATS YOU
It’s hard not to stop and stare when you see a bear walking down the sidewalk with its head under one arm. The blonde girl whose head was sticking out of the top of the costume looked thoroughly miserable.
I rolled down the window of my car and called out, “Do you need a ride?”
She smiled and hurried to the door. “I sure do. Are you heading downtown?”
I wasn’t, but she was pretty enough so that I didn’t mind going out of my way. “Wherever you say. Hop in. You must be smothering in that outfit.”
“Tell me about it.” She tossed the bear’s head into the back-seat. She had a hard time fastening the shoulder belt over her bulky bear costume, but finally got it latched.
After she told me her name—Toni—and her address, I said, “Do you always go around dressed like that?”
“I was at a kid’s birthday party, but the jerk from the agency who was supposed to come pick me up afterward never showed. I got tired of waiting on the curb.”
“Couldn’t you have called a cab?”
She gave a funny smile. “I was sort of told to leave early. The kid’s parents weren’t in the mood by then to do me any favors.”
“How come?”
She looked at me like she was assessing whether I was the kind of guy who would appreciate the story. I must have passed the test. “These gigs only last an hour,” she said. “But about halfway through, I really had to use the bathroom. The kid’s mom showed me where it was. Once I was inside, I had to take off my whole outfit before I could, you know, do my thing. And I don’t wear anything underneath except underwear, because the costume gets so hot.”
Like any guy, I couldn’t help screening a mental movie of her stripping down to her bra and panties. I could see from the shape of her face and her slender neck that Toni was skinny and girlish—just my type. Watching this pale-skinned Goldilocks emerge from a bulky bear costume would be a real treat.
“So, okay, I did what I was there for,” she continued. “But before I could get back in costume, the bathroom door opens. No knock, it just swings open, and there is the kid’s dad, staring at me standing there in nothing but panties.”
The fact that she didn’t say anything about a bra did not slip past me. My opinion of her went up another notch. I envied the hell out of the guy who got to see her topless. I took a sideways glance at her chest. Even through the furry bear costume, I could see that she was packing a nice pair in there.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “I can see where the guy would have felt awkward, but it sounds like you’re the one who should have been mad, not him.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. But before I could say anything, he said he recognized me! He was more embarrassed about that than about walking in on me. That’s because he knew me from my... other job.”
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“I make most of my money doing bachelor parties. Dancing, stripping, the whole thing. You know.”
I knew all right. I had been to two bachelor parties in the past two months. Each had a stripper, and they did a hell of a lot more than strip. At one party, the girl picked up dollar bills with her pussy, then gave blowjobs in the bedroom to three guys for twenty bucks a pop.
At the other party, a girl did a naked squat-and-grind on the groom-to-be’s face. She said that if he didn’t fuck her, she would feel like he didn’t have a good time. I remember wondering how much extra the best man had paid her to say that. The groom ended up fucking her, all right—on the couch, in front of everyone. While he was doing it, he asked her if he could bone her backside.
“My fiancée won’t let me fuck her in the ass, so she shouldn’t mind,” he said.
The stripper told him that would cost an extra fifty. Several of us got out our wallets and contributed to the pot. Our buddy deserved whatever he wanted.
The girl found a tube of lube in her purse and greased up his cock. “Put some on me, too,” she said, getting on all fours and sticking her bare ass in the air. I wasn’t the only onlooker who had to adjust his cock as we watched our buddy squirt lube onto the stripper’s pink asshole, wedge his dickhead into that little ring, and push it inside.