I’m addicted to eating creampies, my own and other guys. Sometimes I try to cum as fast as possible just so I can satisfy my cum cravings. 

The auditorium was full of men, all of them intrigued to see what the weekend event would involve and to find out why it had started so early in the day. More sat at home, watching the live stream.When the lights went up on the stage, they saw what appeared to be 10 men. Wrists bound above their heads, they weren’t going anywhere. Blackout hoods covered their heads, all were wearing headphones. Mutters of confusion and disappointment spread around the room.The Master stepped forward and addressed the audience:“Remember that not all is not what it seems, you’re in for a nice surprise. But first, some important information. We’ll inspect the specimens in a moment. Each of them think they’re alone with me. What comes next will be the first of many surprises for them.”And so he started to undress them. Shredded flannel shirts opened to reveal binders, binders cut open to display tits of different shapes and sizes. A couple of them had scarred chests where they’d had their tits chopped off. Some of them had shaved cunts, others were hairy. But there was no denying they were all female.Once he’d stripped them all, the master began his appraisal of each girl. Examining her tits, if she had any, telling the audience how they felt pointing out the sluts whose nipples were hard already. He spread their cunts and assholes and his camera allowed them to be shown on the big screen. One had a tampon in her pussy - he made note of that for later. Two had unbroken hymens, still virgins. One had a bruised and stretched out asshole, clearly no stranger to getting cocked. “We’ve found our urinal for the weekend, you’ll be able to fill her up later.”The master encouraged the audience to use their handsets to vote. Most fuckable, best tits, which bitches they’d like to see paired up and all the rest.“This session is nearly over gents, but I think it’s time for us to meet each of our girls face to face.”One by one he removed the headphones and hoods from each bitch. Some screamed, some cried, most struggled. A couple of the whores had beards - but not for long. The screens above the audience’s heads showed the girls what the audience saw - a row of 10 exposed sluts whose weekend was only just getting started. The lights went off and the audience filed out, leaving the Master and his assistants to prepare the girls.The afternoon show started promptly. When the lights came up, the girls were much more placid. They’d been given a little something to help them…relax and to encourage them to be a lot more compliant. It had clearly worked.All ten had been shaved, waxed and plucked. Any facial hair was fine. Hairless bodies on display for the entertainment of the men in the audience. Some of the whores were naked, some in crotchless panties and open bras to allow a clear view of their assets. Many were wearing open mouth gags to make sure they couldn’t bite.The virgins had been dressed in matching white underwear and were bound to a bed in the centre of the stage. The bitches who’d had their tits chopped off were wearing fake plastic tits. Each slut was bound with rope or in metal restraints in poses that best showed off their cunts and tits. The urinal had already been set up at the front of the stage - tunnel plugs in her cunt and asshole, an open mouth gag. “She’s here for your use whenever you need to piss, don’t be shy” the Master said.Before voting on the live action they wanted to see, the men in the audience were invited row by row to inspect the girls. Groping, fingering, stroking, rubbing. When thoroughly inspecting one of the girls, one lucky man found a moon cup. After she drank down its contents, the girl was instructed to go sit on the face of one of the virgins. The Master pulled the tampon from the other period bitch and forced her to suck on it. She then took her seat on the other virgin’s face.This set the audience’s imaginations off and soon suggestions for the show were flooding in. Bidding was opened for virgin 1 and virgin 2.The two period whores were instructed to trib and scissor each other, rubbing their bloody cunts against each other. When the Master was satisfied, he plugged their cunts with a double dildo and stuffed another in their asses for good measure. Tied together, they were connected by both their pussies and assholes, no escape from each other or the plastic toys stretching their bloody cunts and tight shitpipes.The two virgins were first instructed to lick each other’s face clean, before making sure their pussies were clean. The two girls sucked on each other’s testosterone swollen clits and lapped at their untouched pussies. Virgin 2 was increasingly wet, virgin 1 less so. What happened next would be easier for one than the other.The winning bidders were a father and son, a unique bonding experience. They both pushed inside at the same time, adding to the spectacle. On the big screen, a shot of virgin 1’s face showed her eyes widen before tears started rolling down her face. Eventually a look of acceptance passed across her face and she seemed to submit to her current owner’s dick. To everyone’s surprise, she was the first of the virgins to reach orgasm, causing her owner to unload deep inside her fertile pussy. Virgin 2 promptly found herself being made to eat the creampie from her companion, her ass up and pussy continually pounded. She too took a load deep inside, the first of her life but not her last that weekend.For the next 3 hours all of the whores on stage were free to use and repositioned on request. Two or three of the sluts were squirters. Many were whimpering like bitches by the time the men had cum in and on them. Some were begging for more and they got it. One girl took two cocks in her ass and two in her cunt, grinding and squirming like the cockwhore she’d always secretly been.After the afternoon session, the men went to their rooms or to the bar and the females were taken to be cleaned up and made presentable for the evening’s entertainment.That evening, ten lucky men (or groups of men) had won the bidding to be entertained in their rooms. Each girls was there to use how they wanted, the only condition being that their activities were filmed for the livestream audience and for future use.Similar happened next morning.That afternoon the audience once again gathered in the auditorium, wondering what they could possibly see that they hadn’t seen already that weekend.When the lights came up, most sluts were held in one point bondage. The dildos were deep in their cunts and there was no escape from them. The remaining sluts were also impaled on an anal dildo. Even if they’d taken off their slutty high heels, it would only have thrust the toy deeper inside them. There was no escape. Next to each engorged clit was a vibrator, and each of the bitches wore a VR headset.Above each girl’s head was a video screen, showing what she was seeing in the headset. Footage from the entire weekend, showing each whore’s descent from frigid bitch into a nasty freeuse cumslut. Hours of footage that they couldn’t escape from, as the vibrators were turned on and the fuck machines started to pound their sore holes. The audience voted to increase the speed, decrease the speed, thrust deeper. At times they stopped the toys, lulling one of the females into a false sense of relief before they started them again - harder and faster than ever.The Master and his assistants were sure to film each and every orgasm that their prize whores had when they were watching their own descent into the life of a fucktoy. It would of course be added to the footage already taken, eventually to be screened on billboards in each slut’s home city. It didn’t matter any more. They had new lives now.

If you were in the audience, what would you have wanted to see these whores do?

The room was a bit crowded at Whorefest 2024, it was mostly middle aged men lusting after younger women, but there were a few women in the crowd too. I made my way to an empty chair as a young woman stood on stage, completely naked only for the purple thigh high ‘fuck me boots she wore, I gawked at her sexy exposed perky breasts. She spoke with enthusiasm and pride, walking from the left of the stage to the right and engaging with the audience.

“It’s not about how you look, it’s about how you make me feel when you touch me. I don’t give a fuck if you’re fat, ugly, old, or whatever stereotype society has given you. You can be an old man, or even a mid-twenties businessman, or hell even a middle aged woman – I simply don’t give a fuck. We meet for pleasure, your pleasure! And my job is to satisfy your needs. I’m that slut your mom warned you about, I’m not a dinner date, I am dinner.”

Some of the audience clapped, a man next to me grunted in approval. She continued on.
“Now I know what some of you might be saying, that we’re all about using condoms and safe sex – and for a lot of people that is a really big turn off… lots of people like it raw, no barriers – and that’s why I’ve come up with various tiers on my regulars list. If you can prove to me that you’re clean, and you don’t have any diseases, you won’t have to use a condom. Hell, I’ll even let you empty your nuts inside me,” she laughs and shakes her head, “hell that’s kind of a fetish of mine. I love creampies. Of course there are requirements, I’ll definitely follow up with your doctor’s office and make sure everything is legit. Once I know, you’re in. Literally in.”
She points to her pussy, which has a tuff of dark pubic hair.

“Now you’re probably asking yourself, fuck how much is that going to cost? Bareback creampies should be affordable to everyone – so I charge a lower rate for that than most of the providers here. My prices are non-negotiable, they’re locked in for a reason – trying to barter will get you removed from my fuck list, even if you are a regular of mine.”

A few people in the crowd clapped lazily. She was trying hard to win them over.
“The raffle will begin in a few minutes, and I hope all of you get who you desire!”
I uttered, “Raffle?”

The man next to me heard me and explained, “Yeah we all got raffle tickets when we came in, check your gift bag bro.”

I thanked him and looked inside, condoms, a few weird pencils and a raffle ticket. I shrugged my shoulders and continued to listen to the lady on stage.
“Have a great rest of the evening, and fuck you later!” She blew a kiss to the audience and walked off stage, her little tits jiggling with each step.

A woman got up from the crowd, barreling towards her waving her hands, “Lucia! Lucia! Here’s my number call me!”

The woman handed her a piece of paper and Lucia smirked and winked at her, nodding in agreement.
The last speaker was an older woman, she was very reserved and had a smoker’s voice. The guy next to me was very excited as she spoke about her sexual exploits.
“I’ve always dreamed of fucking Mistress Sheila, she’s a 60 year old goddess,” he said to me blushing.

I didn’t say anything, she was a bit too old for me.
She finished talking and they started calling the raffle tickets, they called my number for Mistress Sheila, and I turned to the guy next to me, handing him the ticket, “hey you won!”
His eyes lit up as he looked at my ticket, “are you sure? Holy shit!”
Grabbed the ticket and put it up in the air, “I won!!” I patted him on the back.
He handed me his ticket, “here, I hope you get someone good if you win!”
The raffle seemed to go on forever, and there were only two ladies left, one of them was Lucia.
They called my numbers for the raffle, I won a night with Lucia. I was told to walk over to her booth to make arrangements to meet her, and I did.

Her booth was small, it had black curtains around it that I moved aside and stepped in, two security guards were just outside of the curtained booth. I saw a single chair and sat down. Lucia walked in and sat behind a desk, she was now fully clothed. She smiled at me and looked a bit nervous.
“Hi, I’m Mike,” I said nervously.

“I’m Lucia, it’s nice to meet you Mike. So you won a night with me huh?”
I smiled a bit, “I did…”

“Let’s get to know each other,” Lucia said as she picked up a pen and slide a notebook closer to her, she began writing.

It seemed like a job interview, she asked me what I did for a living, about politics, about religion, and then about my sexual preferences.

I was very forthcoming about all of the information she asked me about.
“Favorite sexual position?”

“I like it when the woman is on top so I can view her better, and touch her breasts and look into her eyes too…”

“Ah, standard cowgirl, gotcha… ok,” she penned it down.

“Any fetishes?” she asked, her eyes locking onto mine.

“Um…” I felt really nervous, “I- like…”

“You don’t need to be shy with me, Mike. I’m here for you, ok?”

I nodded, “I like the same fetish you do, cumming inside… creampies. It’s the only type of porn I like to watch – seeing a pussy filled up with cum to me is so fucking beautiful and perfect… but I know I don’t have my medical records with me, and I know that won’t happen…” I trailed off.

“Yes, creampies… feeling that pulsating dick and the rush of hot sperm pumping deep in me, there’s nothing like it… so I understand, but yes we will be wearing protection, ok? You can cum inside of me with a condom on.”

I nodded, “I totally understand, and I feel the same way about it.”

“How old are you, Mike?”

“I’m 52 years old, getting older, how old are you?” I asked.
She smirked a little, “I just turned 22, you dirty old man. Oh don’t worry, I like older men – with your peppery hair and refined look. Hell, I’d probably hit on you if I saw you at a bar.”

Lucia took out a business card and wrote on the back of it, “Meet me here at 8:00 tonight. I’ll take you out to eat – my treat, and then we’ll head back to my hotel and have some fun.”

I took the card and saw the address she wanted me to meet her at, she put a heart around it.
I went back home and cleaned up, took a nice warm shower and made sure I was ready for action. I opened up my bottle of Cialis and took one, then thought about wanting to be ultra hard for her so I took another pill and broke it in half and took it too.

Lucia had a limo pick me up at my hotel, when I opened the door I didn’t expect her to be inside, but she was. I was greeted with a hug and a kiss, “Mike! This is going to be so much fun!!”

We had a great dinner and a great conversation. I asked her if there were any other rules I needed to know, like if kissing was allowed. She was very open and kind, it really did seem like we were on a date getting to know each other.

“A lot of providers don’t allow kissing, but to me – that’s the spark. A lot of them don’t like it because it’s too intimate and they’ll get feelings for their clients, but that’s exactly what I want. I want to have feelings – I don’t want to be dead inside about the people I’m fucking.”

I was stunned by how mature she was, and even wondered how the hell she could afford such a luxurious restaurant.

“You must have a lot of clients to afford eating here… it’s easily $250 a plate…” I said, trying not to be offensive.

“I actually am pretty new to the whole scene, just been in it for 4 months. Thing about me is, this isn’t a job it’s a hobby. I don’t even have to work, my family is rich as hell. Perhaps this is my act of rebellion, but it’s a rebellion that is fun!” She laughed and took a sip of wine, “let’s go back to my room Mike….”

The limousine drove Lucia and I to her hotel, she had a very fancy p********ial suite. I watched her walk over to her bed, and let her short black leather skirt fall to the floor, and then she pulled her top off over her head. She sat on the bed and spread her legs.

“Are you afraid?” She said grinning, sliding a slender finger down her clitoris and into her pussy. My cock jumped, as if to say “what the fuck are you doing dude, get in there!”

I pulled my clothing off as quickly as I could, stumbling to the bed as Lucia kept using her finger to play with herself. My cock throbbed, so my hand instinctively gripped onto it and I started stroking to her.

“ohhh no, you bad boy, you’re not getting off that easy!” she leaned over and put the finger she was playing with herself inside my mouth. I felt her soft warm hand clasp on to my cock and start tugging it gently. Her mouth met mine, her tongue thrusting deep into my mouth – we both moaned in pleasure.

Lucia pushed me down onto the bed and she started kissing my nipples, then my belly all the way down to my cock. I felt her wet warm mouth take all of me inside her. Her soft hands gripped my waist as her head bobbed up and down frantically. She came up for air, licking the tip of my dick, playing with the precum.

“Fuck you’re hard, such a nice dick!” she started tugging on it and sucking it at the same time, looking up at me, making eye contact – I was hooked. This woman was amazing. I stopped her, and pushed her down on the bed, spreading her legs open wide. I licked her erect nipples, and made my way down to her navel – she giggled as my tongue tickled her. I pushed her legs back more and my face dove into her sweet glistening pussy, my tongue lapping at her clit, and occasionally diving into her cunt hole. She smelled and tasted great, she was sweet, like honey.

Her body began to convulse, and she screamed out “FUCK!!! MIKE HOLY FUCK!”

Lucia nearly passed out, so I stopped licking her and cuddled into her as she recovered.
“Holy fuck, who are you?” she asked groggily.

I just chuckled. I felt her hand on my chest as she rested her head on my arm. I kissed her forehead and just relaxed. She began to stroke my cock softly, our lips met again, and she climbed on top of me. I felt her tight little dripping pussy slowly swallow my cock.

“Oh shit, the condom?” I said as she looked deep into my soul.
“Fuck the condom,” Her mouth was on mine as she started riding me, her small tits jiggling on my chest.

I could feel her energy, so sexual, so young, so loving, it was tantric. She moaned as my cock pushed deeper inside of her, I could feel her pussy muscles milking my cock as she slid it in and out of her.
“You feel so perfect,” I said, panting cupping her little tits in the palms of my hands.
“So do you…” she moaned, her eyes fluttering as she quickened the pace of her thrusts.
I pushed upwards with each thrust to go deeper, she was so tight I knew I wouldn’t last long, and I didn’t. I grabbed on to her waist, then her ass and I felt my cock start to throb, the warmth of my cum sprayed deep inside of her, the ejaculations pushing the limits of my consciousness, I held her tightly as she drained every single drop. She collapsed on top of me and we both fell asleep.
We woke up in the morning and kissed, had coffee and ended up spending the day together. She didn’t want me to leave, and I didn’t want to leave either…. So I don’t know where this is going to take either of us, but it’s definitely going to be one hell of a ride.

*Yes, this story is fiction. Parts of it were taken from my own personal life – but no, I never met a woman at a place called WhoreFest lol. I hope everyone enjoyed the read. Peace!

I like to eat my own cum who wants to taste it also ? 

Jerking off wearing my mom's dirty panties edging and getting ready to eat my own cum.

I like piss. I like the smell of piss. I like the taste of piss. I like the glorious way in which piss looks in a bottle. I like drinking piss. I like drinking my own piss. I like drinking piss from a cunt. I like the word “piss”. I like the sound of piss. I like the idea of piss on the floor. I like women’s piss. I like pissing while women piss. I like pissing together. I like masturbating your twat while you piss. I like rubbing piss in your face and licking it off. I like pudding in you. I like you swelling my piss. I like pad for breakfast with my cereal. I like have piss in the fridge, and piss ice cubes in the freezer, along with a jar of cum and ice cubes made from saliva. I like adding those cubes to your fresh glass of piss and watching you drink it. I like washing your hair with piss. I like seeing you roll around on the floor in our piss while I co to ie pissing on you. I like you wanting my piss. I like you asking for my piss. I like that I don’t have to ask to piss on you. I that that you are where I piss. I like you wearing my piss when you leave the house and being unapologetic about your endeavors. I like you craving my piss and looking forward to relaxing with it after a hard day at work. I like you drinking piss from the toilet. I like you washing your bras and panties with only piss. I’d love to see you wash the dishes with piss. Piss is great. I find it romantic and sensual. I like pissing in the cunt as we’re making love. And pissing down your throat. I like sharing our piss. I like you pissing on my cock and watching you lick it up. I want your piss, just casually poured into a glass for me to drink. And I want to watch you rub yourself and pet your cunt as I do. I want to drink your piss in front of other people without them knowing I’m drinking piss. I want to piss on your food. Just stand up as we’re eating and piss all over the table like it’s the most casual thing in the world. I want to piss in your asshole while you drink piss from a toilet bowl with a gallon jug if piss waiting on the floor and a glass of piss on the toilet tank. I want to make mixed drink recipes with piss, and cook with piss. I want to find out which foods make piss taste even better! I want to put piss in a blender and make piss smoothies. I want to piss in your cunt hole every day. I want to drink your piss ten times per day. I want to film you drinking piss bubbles. I want to call you Cunt Princess Piss Bubbles. I want every drop of piss that come from me to go in you or on you for an entire day. I want to save gallons of piss and have you bathe in it. Piss. I want to cum in your throat and cum on your face. I want you to use my face to get yourself off. I want to lick your asshole as deep as it takes to make you cum. I want to ride you like a fucking horse and jerk you off until you splash the walls. I want you to talk on the phone with my dick in your mouth, and use my asshole as a platter for desert. I want you to open my hole and piss in it. I want to see you smuggle fruit from the store from your pussy. I wanna eat your fruit, girl.

Yesterday I froze my own cum and ate it,

I was one of the most magical nights ever. I've always wanted to eat my own cum but its always so hard to do. I came in a plastic cap and put it in the freezer. 5 minutes later all I could think of was that I had a preserved batch of sexy cum. At first I was apprehensive but I tongued it out. It was like slush but lumpy. I gaged a few times. But the taste was preserved and ohh was it so fucking hot.

I have 2 loads frozen right now....

We build our worlds around our fears to protect ourselves from having to face them. We draw people into those worlds to make them seem more real. We forget the origins of those fears and deem this way of living to be normal. We surround ourselves with similar worlds that have similar fears. We don’t let anyone in that will break the illusion we have built up around ourselves. The illusion being that it’s the only way to live. We reject other ways of living. We demonize those who don’t live with fear. We call them not normal. The threat is real. The illusion is protected. The fear is safe and sound. The enemy then becomes the light in your attempt to reach the light. We gaslight ourselves. We become old and gray. Or we become injured. People go away. We are left to face ourselves. The fear comes back. The illusion diminished. We are faced with what to do. We drink. We avoid. We create conflict in our lives. We pretend we’re up against something we’re not, because it’s ourselves we are defending from ever experiencing one minute of true unfettered life experience. We hurt ourselves again in an attempt to break free and validate our initial experience. We’re caught in a loop. We’re stuck in our own bubble. Someone burst it for me please. We cry out to the God we know. It doesn’t listen. We cry again and again begging for, asking for anyone to hear, for anyone to listen. They don’t. It’s on me. What am I going to do? How am I going to get out of this? Where is the door? Show me the door and I will walk through. Please, I’m begging you, for Christ sake (Oh, right, he isn’t listening either.) But yes he is, and he is putting it back on you. WHat are you going to do now? I don’t fucking know. I don’t fucking know. I want to challenge it. I want to challenge you to live fearlessly. To burst your own bubble. To take ownership of your life experience and live fully. Ask her out. Be awkward. Tell her she has great tits and you’d like to see them bouncing as you ride my cock. Tell her your thoughts. That you want to cum on her face. Maybe she’ll like it. Maybe she’ll ride you for freedom again and again for the rest of your life. Maybe she likes anal too and all she thinks about at night is someone with a big gorgeous cock riding her asshole from behind. Emily is depressed, lonely, and not living the life she really wants to. That speaks to me. It seems we all are to some degree putting aside what we really want to be doing for the sake of upholding the illusion that all of our fears are more real than the realness of being alive and existing in the world we’ve created without them. Fuck that. I want to live. Who’s with me? Nobody? Great, Then I’m going it alone. I’m sick of this shit. I’m not jerking off to your stupid porn one more day. I’m fucking chicks instead. Or better yet, I’m gonna let them fuck me right inside my asshole with a nine inch strap on as I cum on their pretty stupid faces. Not stupid because they’re idiots, stupid because that’s what gets me off. Saying those ridiculous things. And some girls like it. Some girls are looking for exactly what you are. Some girls are ridiculously ridiculed little pieces of horse poop that are looking for a gorgeous and huge cock to suck on and validate their worlds. Their stupid fear filled insanity driven puke infested dumb cunt worlds. Those are my favorite girls. Tell me what a piece of shit I am as you fuck me directly into my cock fill cum guzzling asshole. Wait, am I talking about me or them? Huh. Maybe I think I’m a piece of shit too because I’ve been reflecting my world off of other people who validate themselves as being worthless pieces of shit. Maybe I’m constantly drawn into this way of being because I think I’m a piece of shit too. I’m not. You’re not. We’re all just bouncing ourselves off of one another in an attempt to validate these worlds we’ve created around ourselves in an attempt to make them more real. In an attempt to go to the darkest of places with another human, because it’s less scary there. Fuck that. Fuck that. Fuck that. I want to live instead. I want the light. I do want ass worshiping sluts to validate me by taking turns licking out my hole and arguing with each other over who did it better. And then telling their mothers about it, who in turn then also want to take turns licking out my asshole in an attempt to validate their worthless world with a tongue in a butthole. A gorgeous butthole that deserves the best of lickings. That deserves two to three hot mothers and daughters licking it out in an attempt to validate themselves. Find their self worth deep inside my asshole with your tongue, bitches. Yes, dig deep in there. Your self worth is hiding deep deep deep inside my asshole. Let your daughter show you how. Let her sister and best friend guide your tongue in asshole licking lessons. Start a fucking YouTube channel on how to lick a mans asshole the proper way. And how to eat him cum after. One to lick and one to eat. The other licks the balls while all of this is going on. Man I’m going to cum right in their little mouths. They deserve it. They deserve to eat cum. They’ve worked for it hard so here it cums directly into their pretty little mouths while mom watches her daughters so proud like a mother should. Shut up, Mom, and lick my asshole. Oh, whoa, a little disturbing there. Now my erection is going down because I’m thinking of my Mother who lives in nothing but fear and wants to draw me into that world. I refuse. She doesn’t like it. Who would? But I’m remaining diligent until she learns to be less fearful of the things that bring no fear. Okay, I’m out. Eat it, Mother. Food for thought here. Just saying.

ROUND THREE / UNEXPECTED DAY THREE

Continuation of my Minnesota adventure: May 2024 [another very long post]

To recap:
I was visiting T, my 52-year-old long-time red-haired FWB, for the first time since October 2021. In the interim, she’d had major female surgery, put on some unwanted weight due to the anti-depressant meds she’d been taking (although she still looked amazing to me), and dumped a 20-y/o lover because “he came too fast, didn’t have a decent job, and couldn’t eat pussy to save his life.” I’d made the drive from Denver to her small town, located a couple of hours southwest of the Twin Cities, with the intent of doing what we always did. That involved catching up on news since the last time we were together, taking in concerts, museums and other attractions while spending the weekend in the Twin Cities, and having sex – lots and lots of sex.

I woke up around 7:30 Tuesday morning, following another three-hour fuck session that had wrapped up around two a.m. Because T babysits her two-year-old grandson every weekday afternoon, I had only planned to sleep over for two nights and then come back for her on Friday. She was dead asleep alongside me, with the covers pulled up over her head, so I left her alone and got dressed in the living room. Her car, a Ford Focus, had been running on fumes the previous evening, so I filled it up at the nearest gas station and then stopped off at a drive-thru for a bagel. Culinary note: I asked for the bagel to be toasted, with cream cheese on the side. Who the fuck toasts a bagel without slicing it first??? Sheesh.

Anyway, I returned to her place and was having my breakfast when T came out of the bedroom and plopped down beside me. I noticed she’d put on yoga pants and a loose-fitting sweatshirt, which clearly indicated she was officially "not in the mood." She is NOT a morning person, and that includes morning sex. I offered her half my bagel, which she declined. She’s also not a breakfast person. “Are you sure you want to leave today?” T asked. “I thought we settled that on Sunday,” I replied. “I’ll be back Friday afternoon and we’ll spend the weekend in St. Paul.” She gave me one of those inscrutable looks that leave guys like me clueless. “Well, Donna is coming over for dinner. We do this every few weeks and, besides, she wants to meet you.”

Donna was one of T’s former coworkers, a tall Nordic blonde who’d succumbed to T’s bisexual charms during a blizzard in February and was apparently still infatuated with my red-haired Viking princess. “You can leave if you want,” T teased, “but you’ll miss out on a fun dinner.” Something told me that dinner wasn’t the only thing I’d miss by heading north, so I agreed to delay my drive by a day. Hey – I may be clueless when it comes to women, but I like to think I’m not an idiot!

We spent most of the day pretty much the same as on Monday, watching TV, reading, and having light-hearted conversation. After homemade bean burritos for lunch, I agreed to help her sort through her massive clothes collection that took up most of a second bedroom. It was a claustrophobic environment dominated by two huge dressers her grandparents had left to her. Piles of clothes occupied every flat surface, but the drawers were nearly empty. Our task was to divide the wardrobe up into Donate and Keep. I suggested the latter category was likely to include “fits me now” and “I hope it’ll fit again someday.” That remark earned me a not-so-playful punch on my arm, followed immediately by an offer to “kiss and make it better.”

For about two hours, I pulled out articles of clothing as T passed judgment on each item’s future. It was really humid, even with the a/c running, so she'd changed into a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had been cut down into shorts. Occasionally she felt compelled to try things on to see if they fit – some did, but many did not – which meant she was regularly showing me her tits while putting on blouses, and turning around to show off her lovely ass with each skirt or pair of pants we came across. There was hardly any floor space, so we were constantly bumping into each other. T was also being very tactile – stroking my arm, smacking me on the ass when I didn’t move out of her way fast enough, and delivering a series of random kisses. Finally, I got up the courage to ask about her behavior.

“You know,” I began apprehensively, “I can’t help but notice how affectionate you are. It’s like the old T has returned.” During past visits, she’d regularly initiated public displays of affection, but I never felt comfortable asking about this behavior – mostly because I didn’t want it to stop. “Why now; why me?” She froze with her hand halfway reaching for a hanger and turned to face me. “You really want to know?” she asked quietly. “Always,” I said. “I used to behave like this a lot, because I’m an affectionate person, but my actions kept getting taken the wrong way. Nearly every guy I’ve been with assumed I was coming on to them sexually, as in, I wanted to fuck them right then and there. You, on the other hand, never give me that vibe, because I know you truly care about me as a person, not just some sex object.”

I must have had a weird look on my face while trying to process what she’d said, because she stepped over the huge pile of clothes still on the floor and bumped up against me, wrapping her arms around my neck and planting a seriously hard kiss on my mouth. The phrase, “You know I adore you,” escaped my lips before I could even think about what I was saying. In return, T took half a step back and countered with, “Well, if you must know, I really DO want to fuck you, but that’ll have to wait because it’s almost time for me to go be with my grandson.” With that she giggled, pushed past me to climb out of the room, and called back in my direction as she was putting on her sneakers, “I’m watching him over at their place, because I don’t want to inflict him on you two days in a row. I’ll be back around 4:30.” And with that, she departed.

At 5:00 there was a knock on the door, so I hopped off the couch and went to answer it. T had previously texted me to say she wouldn’t be home until six o’clock but offered no further details. I opened up to greet a tall, slender woman with close-cropped blonde hair and a narrow face, carrying a grocery bag in each hand. I said, “You must be Donna,” at the same moment she said, “You must be Zac,” and we both laughed. I grabbed the bags out of her hands and took them straight to the kitchen. Since T lives in a double-wide trailer (err, “manufactured”) home, the counter was a mere three steps away. I explained that T was running late, and Donna countered with, “Yeah, she called to tell me that while I was at the Hy-Vee (the local supermarket), so I should just get dinner ready without her.” I offered to act as a backup chef, so we both did food prep. The menu included cucumber salad with onion, sliced tomatoes drizzled with olive oil, beer cheese soup, a baguette of French bread, and strawberry ice cream for dessert.

As we worked, we chatted amiably. I was curious about T’s experiences while working alongside Donna, and she confirmed that the stories I’d heard about harassment were true. “She just seems to attract asshole guys,” Donna said with conviction. Then, as she realized what she’d said, added, “Well, not you, obviously.” I laughed and countered with, “The jury might still be out on that one,” but she was quick to disagree. “Oh, no. T says you’re the sweetest guy. She told me you filled up her tank yesterday.” I couldn’t resist the double entendre. “You mean her car’s gas tank, right?” Donna burst out laughing. “Yeah – that, too.”

But before we could delve into additional semi-smutty talk, T returned and gave Donna a big hug and kiss. “Did you rope Zac into helping you with dinner?” she asked. “He volunteered and did a great job cutting up the vegetables,” she replied. I’d suggested we do the salad Hungarian style, dressed with sour cream, vinegar, and a dash of paprika. Lacking a dining table, we took our plates and bowls to the living room – five steps from the kitchen (!!) – and ate at the coffee table. I parked myself on T’s leather recliner, while the ladies sat on the couch.

After dessert, I gathered up the dishes and offered to do clean-up, to which there were no objections! While I was washing, drying and putting things away, T dragged out her cannabis paraphernalia and the two of them were soon “dabbing away.” Donna asked if they should save some for me, but T put the kibosh on that. “He’s got too much of a tolerance for pot,” T explained. “We split a tube Sunday night, and he didn’t even get high. I don’t think it affected him at all.” I chimed in with, “Well, it made me horny.” T responded with a laugh. “Geez, Zac, you’re hornier than any guy I know, so it clearly wasn’t the pot talking.” Naturally, Donna had to come back with, “So, how horny was he?” There was some whispering that followed between the two of them, and I was too far away to hear the conversation, except for the part where Donna said out loud, “How many times?” and then followed with “Oh, my god.”

I wrapped up my KP duties and started back toward my seat when T piped up with a request. “Zac, honey – can you go pick up something for us to drink? We’re too wasted to drive.” I reminded her we still had that Smirnoff swill from the night before, but T said, “Oh, I poured that out. It wasn’t very good.” That was the understatement of the week! Donna suggested a bottle of wine so, after a brief discussion of white versus red, they agreed “red” was the best choice. I grabbed my car keys and left the two of them puffing away on the couch.

The same woman who’d helped us the previous evening was back behind the counter. “How was that Smirnoff?” she asked. “Looking for another bottle?” [That's the issue with small towns; everyone knows your business!] I told her it was the worst stuff I’d tasted since that shot of vodka I’d sampled in a Bratislava grocery store decades earlier. That got a laugh out of her, and we chatted for about ten minutes about our respective overseas adventures, until I suddenly remembered why I was there. Two minutes and $15 later, I was on my way back to T’s place with what was reportedly a halfway decent bottle of California Cabernet.

As I walked into her place, the lights were off and no one was up front. I set the bottle down and slowly felt my way forward. The bedroom door was closed, and the rest of the place was nearly pitch-black. Because of the harsh Minnesota winters and the lack of decent insulation in her place, T keeps all the windows blocked year-round, because “it’s too much trouble to always be redoing them.” It’s like a goddamned cave in there; you can’t tell whether it’s day or night without opening the door and looking outside. I had my hands outstretched to aid in moving ahead, but thankfully it’s a very narrow hallway with no obstacles. I put my ear to the bedroom door but couldn’t make out any sounds. I thought about calling out, but instead I retraced my steps to the living room, stripped down to just my boxer briefs, and returned to where I’d just been standing.

As quietly as I could, I twisted the door handle and pulled the bedroom door open. The first thing I noticed was a pile of women’s clothes lying on the floor. Peeking around the corner, I saw two naked women erotically positioned and illuminated by the dim bedside lamp at the far side of the room. T was lying on her back, her thighs spread wide and the fingers of her left hand making slow circles around her clit. Donna was sitting on T’s face, grinding away, while the palms of her hands were pressed flat against the bedroom wall, since T’s double bed has no headboard. Neither woman was being particularly vocal – Donna was breathing hard, but quietly, whereas whatever sounds T was making were being directed straight into Donna’s vagina. I took off my boxers and began to stroke my cock, which was quickly at attention.

I was being quiet, but Donna turned her head and caught me out of the corner of her eye as I was standing at the side of the bed with my cock in my hand. “Guess—who’s—back?” Donna managed to announce, in between gasps for air. T mumbled something that I couldn’t understand, but Donna was apparently skilled at interpreting mouth-to-pussy speech. “She wants you to go down on her,” Donna translated, so I wasted no time climbing onto the bed and hopping to it. I pushed T’s hand aside and wrapped my lips around her little button-clit. I sucked on it hard, which really sets her off, and then I shoved two fingers deep into her pussy.

Eighteen months earlier, when T had the first of two back-to-back vaginal surgeries, she was worried they would affect her “pleasure parts,” as she called them. But for the past two nights, I was a witness that she was as orgasmic as she’d ever been. Meanwhile, Donna was raking her crotch up and down T’s mouth, and I looked up just as T took the hand she’d been using on her clit and stuck her middle finger deep into Donna’s ass. “Well, that’s an interesting turn of events,” I thought to myself. T was not a fan of anal play on herself, although she occasionally enjoyed it when I moistened my index finger and rimmed her butthole while simultaneously circling her clit with my tongue. She calls it “the double roundabout.” This was the first time I’d seen her finger-fuck another woman in the ass, although she’s never been shy about pounding a girlfriend’s other hole with her fingers. It didn’t take long for me to get T bucking and moaning, and I stayed with it until she exploded into a thigh-quivering orgasm.

After lifting myself up to catch a breath, I decided not to continue with more cunnilingus but instead mounted T, shoving my cock into her ultra-moist pussy. She made a half-hearted effort to push me away, but my 225 pounds was no match for her 140, so I stayed put. With Donna’s firm ass staring me in the face – she hadn’t dismounted from T’s face, despite already having had at least one orgasm – I balanced precariously on top of T and used my hands to grip Donna’s buttocks and spread them apart. Seconds later, she had the experience of two tongues on her, with one at each hole.

T mumbled something, with Donna apparently understanding her query, because she replied, “He’s got his tongue in my ass.” I sure did! But while focusing my attention on the shapely tush in front of me, I’d stopped fucking T and simply left my cock motionless, albeit balls-deep in her pussy. She seemed miffed by this lack of attention, because she responded by wrapping her legs around my thighs and humping up against me, fighting to attain yet another orgasm. Donna came with a grunt and a shudder, moaned, “Ohhhh, gawd!” and rolled off T’s face to collapse on the far side of the bed. Unfortunately, her unexpected dismount caused her knee to smack against the side of my head, and I think I might have lost consciousness for a few seconds. When I regained my senses, I’d rolled off T, having ended up on the same side of the bed where Donna had landed.

“Are you OK?” Donna asked, with concern in her voice. “Did I hurt you?” I pressed my hand to the spot where her knee had made contact with my skull. “No blood, no foul, I guess,” was my flippant reply, which was enough to elicit a hearty laugh from both women. It seemed like a good time to take a break, so I slid down to lie across the bottom edge of the mattress and laid my head on my outstretched arm. T said, “I think we could all use a drink,” and for once, I agreed that was a good idea. She climbed off the bed and slipped quickly into the kitchen, where we could hear her cursing because she couldn’t immediately find a corkscrew. I was torn between remaining in the bedroom and watching Donna play with her clit, which she was doing absent-mindedly, and following T into the kitchen to lend a hand with the wine. With the cry, “Zac – come here. I need you,” the decision was made for me.

I found T leaning back against the sink, the wine bottle in one hand and a fairly elaborate corkscrew device in the other. “I think I’m too high to figure this out,” she admitted, so I relieved her of both items and managed to extract the cork without damaging my hand, or my male ego. T looked absolutely delicious, nude with her pale pink nipples at full attention, her flushed skin accentuating the freckles on her chest, her red triangle down below curly and enticing, and the tang of pussy juice in the air. We stood there, wordlessly, for a few seconds – each checking out the other person’s body – until she reached out and wrapped her hand around my semi-tumescent cock. Then, she uttered a sentence any red-blooded male would love to hear in that situation: “I want to watch you fuck Donna, and then I’ll clean you both up.”

She and I have performed this act before, but the last time was pre-COVID. Back in 2019, while spending a fuck-filled four-day weekend in a St. Paul Airbnb, she’d picked up a waitress at the neighborhood pastry shop. We’d gone there for breakfast two days in a row, where during each visit T got more and more flirty with the young woman behind the counter. On Day Three, after telling me to pay the bill and then scram, she somehow talked Simone into coming over to our place once her shift ended at noon. Awaiting her arrival, T told me Simone was only interested in girl-on-girl sex, which was OK with me. And true to her word, Simone showed up on time, stripped off her clothes, and dove into T’s pussy as if she hadn’t had sex in months – which turned out to be the case. I sat on the sidelines, stroking and watching, as they both worked each other into multiple orgasmic frenzies. Taking a break, T said to Simone, “I’m thinking about sucking Zac’s cock, because I love the taste of his cum, but I’d like it even better if it came dripping out of your pussy.” Simone seemed more than a bit skeptical, until T told her that I’d do her doggy-style so she didn’t have to see me fucking her, and that I’d do my best to ejaculate quickly. Given the stroke job I’d been doing on myself the previous 30 minutes, that last part wasn’t going to be a problem. Simone agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and I took her from behind – a deliciously tight 22-year-old pussy that needed only half a dozen pumps to get blasted. T fulfilled her part of the bargain and even managed to make Simone orgasm one last time as my man-jizz ended up all over T’s face and then down her throat.

On this evening, however, there was no reluctant acceptance on Donna’s part. I carried three full wine glasses into the bedroom, distributed them accordingly, and then T announced the next stage in our hours-long fuck-fest. As soon as T explained what she wanted us to do, Donna and I looked at each other and asked, nearly simultaneously, “How do you want me?” That got all three of us laughing, but T had her own idea. “Do her missionary, Zac, so the cum won’t leak out before I gobble it up.” Thankfully I wasn’t drinking from my wineglass at that moment, because I would have probably done a spit-take onto her lovely striped cotton sheets. Instead, I drained the last of the liquid and handed my glass to T, who set it down on the nightstand closest to the bedroom door. Then I dove forward to shove my face into Donna’s crotch.

I’d caught her by surprise, but she didn’t voice a single objection, instead sliding her butt forward so she could lie flat on the bed. I tongued her slit for a minute or two – she tasted really good – and then hopped up onto my knees and guided my dick into her pussy hole. Donna reached up and pushed against my shoulders. I thought she was doing that to get me off her, but she only wanted to create enough room to pull her knees up and press them against my chest. This was actually a very effective fucking position for me, because her legs acted as a sort of spring against which I could thrust and retract. She supplied at least half of the motion, and I was able to hang onto her knees for leverage instead of having to use my arms to bear the weight of my body.

We built up a good rhythm, with lots of heavy breathing on both our parts. Meanwhile, T was sitting cross-legged on her side of the bed, finger-fucking herself with an in-and-out motion that matched my own pussy pounding. Just as T said to Donna, “Don’t be surprised, but he sometimes takes a while to come,” I froze on the downstroke as my cock pumped three or four streams of cum deep into Donna’s pussy. All she said was, “Done?” and when I could only nod my head, she used her legs to push me off her while holding her ass up off the bed. T swooped in and dove for the gusto, first licking up the drops of cum that had dripped off my cock as I withdrew, and then using her fingers to dig deep for the rest of the load.

I managed to stand up at the foot of the bed, knees sagging a bit against the edge of the mattress to maintain my balance. T was really slurping up what I’d left for her, and I jacked my dick a bit as I watched. Having completed her task on Donna, T spun around and licked me clean. “Fuck, that was fun!” she exclaimed, and then guzzled down the rest of the wine in her glass.

We’d easily passed the three-hour mark, and I was exhausted. The ladies climbed off the bed and headed to the bathroom, while I flopped down onto the mattress with the aim of slipping off to dreamland. T had other ideas, however. “Hey,” she called out, which awakened me from my near-slumber. “Donna’s staying over, so you’ll have to camp out on the couch.” I began to object, but my argument fell on deaf ears. “There’s just no room, Zac. Sorry. You’ll find an extra pillow and a blanket in the room where my clothes are.” I passed Donna on my way down the hall, pillow and blanket in hand. She’d stopped off in the kitchen for a glass of water and patted me on the ass while I was setting things up on the couch. I straightened up and gave her a kiss on the cheek, but she put her hand gently on the side of my face – coincidentally, the same side where she’d kneed me earlier – and gave me a deep kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you in the morning, OK?” she whispered. I thanked her for an amazingly fun time, which got a shy smile from her before she returned to the bedroom and closed the door.

I’m sure I fell asleep within minutes of stretching out on the couch. At six-foot-zero, I had just enough room to lie on my side (my preferred sleeping position) with my knees slightly bent. Even so, my head was pressed against one arm of the couch, and my feet rested up against the other one. Many hours later – I had no idea of the time, since the windows were blocked and my iPhone was in the other room – I was awakened by something stroking my lower leg. Forgetting where I was for a moment, I imagined it was my cat, Jemima, since she rubs up against me every morning as if to say, “Hey, human. It’s time for my breakfast.” So, when I opened my eyes to see Donna perched on the edge of the couch, as naked as she’d been the night before, I regained full consciousness damned quickly.
She put her finger to her lips and motioned for me to slide over. As skinny as she was, there was still hardly any room to accommodate her lying next to me, so she ended up mostly on top, one knee between my legs, her well-trimmed crotch pressed against my hip, her breasts against my chest, and her mouth a mere inch from mine. “I know T isn’t into morning sex,” Donna said in a very low voice, “but I hear you’re quite the fan, right?” I agreed and lifted my head up so I could give her a good-morning kiss. She slipped her tongue into my mouth while reaching down and wrapping her fingers around my rapidly rising cock. “Mmm, morning wood is the best wood, don’t you agree?” she teased. She squeezed me gently, and we continued to make out as she ground her pussy against my hip bone. Once she determined I was sufficiently erect, Donna threw her leg across my body and straddled me effortlessly. “You were on top last night, so now it’s my turn,” she said. Before I could object – not that it even occurred to me to do so – she had my cock all the way inside her pussy and was rocking back and forth on it with gusto. I reached up and tugged on her small nipples, which were like rock-hard cherries, and she worked her way into two very quick and enthusiastic orgasms.
Donna climbed off after her second orgasm but recognized I hadn’t had one. She teased me a bit with her tongue on the very tip of my cock, pushing my hands away as I tried (unsuccessfully) to engage her mouth more fully. “Be a good boy and put your hands behind your head,” she instructed, “or else I’ll leave you to take matters into your own hands.” At my age, I wasn’t sure how much cum I could muster, given the prodigious amount I’d pumped into her pussy just six or seven hours earlier, but any blow job was better than no blow job. [I think I read that saying needlepointed on a pillow, once.] Donna continued to tease my twitching cock, using only her tongue and resting her hands on either side of my body for balance. She must have toyed with me like this for 10 or 15 minutes before finally relenting and taking my dick all the way into her mouth. Her tongue action continued to be amazing as she bobbed her head up and down only slightly. Still, it was enough of a turn-on for me that I managed to ooze out a bit of cum as I orgasmed. Donna gave me a pretty smile, climbed off the couch, and said she was heading to the shower. “You could probably use one, too,” she insisted, so I joined her under a thin stream of warm water and soaped up her body as she returned the favor. We didn’t get into anything more sexual, but I truly enjoyed the mutual contact.

T climbed out of her bedroom about an hour later, already dressed for the day in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Donna and I were sitting on the couch, a respectable distance away from each other, as we watched a local TV news show. T greeted each of us with a kiss and then went into the kitchen to brew herself a cup of tea. Upon her return, she squeezed in between us and stretched out her legs so her feet rested on the coffee table. Looking at each of us in turn, she asked, “So, did you two have a nice morning fuck?” Before either of us could answer, though, she leaned over and kissed Donna on the mouth. “Thanks for taking one for the team,” she giggled. “You know I’m not into pre-noon dick.” I shot back, “I guess I'll set my alarm for 12:05 then.” T stuck out her tongue at me and said, “You’re leaving for St. Paul as soon as you get packed, and Donna will help me with my clothing once you leave.”

After that comeback, I had nothing more to say, so I placed my pjs and my shaving kit into my suitcase and headed for the door. T forestalled me as I passed through the kitchen and wrapped her arms around me in a sensuous hug. “I’ll see you on Friday, lover,” she breathed into my ear, and moments later I was in my car. My final, fleeting thought as I drove down Broadway toward the highway was, “Well, I think my tongue AND my cock can use the three-day break.”

Anyone else who loves eating their own cum?

ROUND TWO / DAY TWO:
This will be a long one!

As a follow-up to the story I posted a week or so ago, here's how things played out during Day Two of my visit to SW Minnesota and my long-time red-haired FWB, whom I will continue to refer to by her first initial: T.

It was Monday. We'd spent the previous evening – our first night together since 2021 – watching TV while she got high, which always makes her extra-horny, We ended up having sex into the wee hours (about three hours' worth of sucking, fucking and pussy-eating), despite the fact she'd declared at bedtime that she was uncomfortable with her weight gain due to her taking anti-depressant meds, and therefore didn't feel "sexy." But she had second thoughts after we’d been in bed in less than 15 minutes. She claimed not to have had sex in more than five months (which turned out to be not entirely true, as you'll read later), so the left side of the sexual equation Cannabis + Desire + Dick Proximity was clearly greater than (>) the right side, which was Continued Abstinence + Self-Image Discomfort.

T babysits her grandson every Monday through Friday afternoon, filling in the gap between the time her daughter leaves for a factory job at 2:00, and the son-in-law returns from his chef's gig at 5:00. This commitment was the reason we weren't spending the entire week in the Twin Cities, as I'd originally planned. We negotiated staying at her place for two nights, me driving on my own to St. Paul for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights, and then returning midday Friday to retrieve her and go back north for the weekend.

Given the late hour when we finally finished Sunday night, it was well after 10 a.m. by the time we climbed out of bed. I'd been rebuffed (gently but firmly) against a morning fuck, so instead we got dressed in separate rooms and she made us French toast for breakfast (at nearly lunchtime!) before hanging out at her place for most of the day. Since she'd quit her meds due to the weight gain (an increase from 115 pounds to around 140 on her 5'5" frame), I was concerned she was reverting somewhat to her agoraphobic ways -- not wanting to go anywhere -- but she insisted she was just tired ("And you clearly know why," she declared in a half-joking, half-accusatory tone). The other underlying factor was this: When I say there’s nothing to do in her town, I mean THERE’S NOTHING TO DO. Instead, we watched TV together for a while, I started a book (“The Collected Works of Franz Kafka”) I’d purchased the previous evening at the town’s lone bookstore, and we exchanged stories about the events we'd each experienced since we were last together, which was October 2021. T had quit her retail management job at the peak of COVID, another in a long line of employment bailouts on her part. “I always end up the victim of two situations,” she said, by way of explaining her less-than-stellar work history. “Guys are always hitting on me, which I hate, and my female coworkers resent it and stab me in the back.” I suggested that’s what happens when you live in a small town, with its limited gene pool and where everybody knows your business. “I’ve been here for 30 years, and it never gets any better,” she lamented.

Meanwhile, at the end of 2021 my partners and I had sold our consulting business to our largest client, the related management contract we held for a micro-brewery in Croatia was taken over by Zagreb’s largest brewery, and my partners retired while I stayed on to continue my tech-writing work. I tried to pry some sexy stories out of T’s memory hole, but she said those needed to wait until evening. In our past meetups, we’d regularly used tales of prior escapades to help whet each other’s sexual appetites (and WET certain other things!), such as the time I hosted a young hottie along with my former gang bang buddy, and experienced my first (and so far, only) DV. Or the time T finger-banged a young woman after spending the day at the Minnesota Renaissance festival. They went at it in full view of the golf-cart guy who’d driven them to the remote parking lot. T admitted to me it was possible her paramour wasn’t exactly “of age,” but acknowledged it was the young lady’s first girl-on-girl experience.

By this point in the afternoon, it was time for T to retrieve her grandson. He’s a rambunctious two-year-old who is already showing signs of ADD, but after she brought him back to her place, I managed to get him to sit still long enough to read him a story. Apparently, that was a major milestone, and I received kudos from the dad when he came to pick up the short person a few hours later. At 4:00, T had a Zoom call with her therapist, so I took a drive in order to give her some privacy, returning about 90 minutes later.

“Do you want to know what we talked about,” T teased upon my return. “Isn’t there such a thing as doctor/patient confidentiality? I asked. She replied, “It’s OK if the patient divulges the info, doofus.” I love it when she calls me endearing names! I acquiesced and prepared myself for a fairly boring storyline, but it turned out rather fascinating.

“We spent most of my 50-minute session talking about you, actually” was her opening salvo. I responded with, “Well, that sounds totally boring. You should probably ask for your money back.” She reminded me her therapy sessions were free, based on her minimalist income and the charity of the county government. “You still got robbed,” I said, only slightly tongue-in-cheek. Here’s the gist of what she told me (edited for brevity and my semi-faulty memory):

“I told her in our last session that you were coming to visit, so we started out talking about how you and I had met all those years ago, when was the last time we’d gotten together, and if I was *ready* to have someone stay the night. We’d previously talked about my lack of sex since the year started, and whether I felt ready for the two of us to fuck. I told her we had a great relationship, always enjoyed each other’s company in and out of bed, and that you’d back off if I wasn’t comfortable – which you did. Then I told her I’d been too high to miss out, so we had this amazing session that lasted three hours. She wanted to know if I was planning to go for another round, and I said I hoped so.” That elicited quite the eyebrow-raise from me, but I refrained from making a snarky comment, so she continued.

“She wanted to know how serious you and I were, and I explained how there’s no way we’d ever live in the same city, but I felt better about having you around. I also told her you’d offered to take me to France in 2022, but I was too freaked out to consider going [Ed. note: I ended up taking my friend Liz, a 38-y/o Denver woman I’d met on a dating site, with whom I’ve been having occasional sex], but that you suggested I could come with you to Italy next spring, if I felt up to it.”

The previous day, I chastised T for not applying for her passport, for which I’d prepared the paperwork and given her the $175 document fee, while also floating the idea of her coming with me to visit Milan and Florence. “I’ve always wanted to see Florence,” was her dreamy response to my suggestion, but I’m not holding my breath on that one.

Anyway, as we were about to continue the discussion, her son-in-law showed up to collect his rug-rat, who’d been doing who-knows-what in the rear bedroom. I subsequently suggested we go somewhere for dinner, but T offered to scour her pantry and cook something for us. We dined on homemade chicken tenders, rice, and a salad. Afterwards, she suggested we go for an early evening hike in the local state park, so we doused ourselves with mosquito repellent – it WAS Minnesota, after all – and trekked about three miles up hill and down dale, through forests primeval and meadows replete with wildflowers, before finally ending up back at my car. “Let’s go for a drink,” she suggested, so we drove a mile or so to the local country club and headed into the clubhouse. T ordered an incredibly complex Long Island iced tea, substituting one ingredient for another, explaining exactly how she wanted each element added and mixed, and what style of glass to serve it in. As for me, I ordered a hard seltzer and drank it straight from the can!

“You realize,” I said to her, “the only reason the bartender put up with your micro-managing antics is because you’re gorgeous, and beautiful women always get what they want.” Before she could respond, a young woman sitting a few stools away at the bar – herself a particularly tasty tall, svelte and very desirable brunette who couldn’t have been much older than 21 – slid over to sit next to us and declared, “He’s right, you know.” T asked, “Right about what?” “One, you ARE gorgeous, and two, I get the same treatment.” Previously, in situations like these, an in-depth discussion would have ensued, followed by T trying (and usually succeeding) to pick up the younger woman, or at least have them agree to meet later. I’ve been on the receiving end of a few MFF threesomes thanks to T’s ability to pull a variety of hotties, which has included waitresses, bartenders, and even a bridesmaid at a bachelorette party being held in a strip club. More than once, I’ve said to her, “Who knew the best possible wingman would turn out to be a red-haired MILF.”

But this time around, either her heart wasn’t in it, or else she didn’t feel that special “vibe” bi-sexual woman sense in detecting others of their ilk. T grabbed her elaborate Long Island concoction and beckoned me to follow her to a table out on the patio. After we finished our drinks, she suggested we stop at the liquor store and pick up some additional hootch. I’m definitely not a drinker – never developed a taste for it, plus it’s bad for my gout – but if T wanted to get a bit tipsier, who was I to argue? She decided on some god-awful Smirnoff Red-White-Blue cocktail in a bottle, and we went back to her place. It wasn’t late – only around 9:30 – but I said I wanted to take a shower and put on my PJs. She said she’d do the same, and when I returned to the couch to watch some TV, T was tucked into the far end and wearing only an extra-long t-shirt. “I couldn’t find my nightgown,” she explained, “so I just tossed on this thing.” She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, with her hand gripping the hem of the shirt in order to pull it down over her crotch. “Are you wearing anything under that?” I asked in as innocent a voice as I could manage. “I left on my sports bra,” she explained. “You know I don’t ever wear panties.”

Oh, how well I knew that! The last time we were together, we’d gone to a bar in downtown Minneapolis where a band was playing on their outdoor patio. She wore a filmy, knee-length dress and sandals, but nothing else. About halfway through the band’s second set, after she’d consumed a glass of Merlot and an Amaretto sour, she was sitting on my lap and I had two fingers up inside her pussy. The band was loud enough to mask her moans of pleasure, but any semi-observant person could have figured out what we were doing, if they’d cared to look.

In this case, by way of further explanation, T lifted up the bottom edge of her t-shirt and flashed me her pussy. The previous night, with the bedroom darkened to near-blackness, I’d only been able to imagine how things looked down there. However, under the bright lights of the living room, I was treated to a lovely view of her natural bush (neatly shaped into a red inverted triangle), a pair of engorged outer labia, and just a hint of moisture at the entrance to her vagina. I took this as some sort of invitation, but as I slid in next to her and started to run my hand up the inside of her thigh, she twisted away from me and tugged the t-shirt down again. “Let’s watch a movie, OK?” was her solution to forestall any action on my part.

Because she lives out in the boonies in a trailer park that’s not served by cable TV, she relies on some crappy five-dollar-per-month antenna subscription, plus about a thousand DVDs. OK, so maybe I’m exaggerating, but she has this gigantic zippered case filled with sleeve after sleeve of movie disks. They were arranged alphabetically by title (a nod to her OCD), but I didn’t have a clue where to start. “Any porn in there?” I asked innocently. She gave me that look – you know the one – that was a combination of scorn, disappointment and shock that I’d even assume such a thing. “My last boyfriend took them all when I kicked his ass out,” she said with a laugh. I asked her to make a recommendation, and rather than getting up to find the DVD herself – I was jonesing for a look at that lovely ass – she rattled off a title and instructed me to dig it out. I don’t remember what it was called, but it was some PG-13 fantasy film with a bunch of young actors I didn’t recognize, reciting lines that were less believable than a legal deposition by a perpetual liar, and special effects whose main claim to fame was NOISE!

Meanwhile, T was working her way through a second glass of that vile Smirnoff stuff, having also taken one of the THC gummies I’d brought with me from Colorado. Although cannabis was now legit in Minnesota, they didn’t have edibles on the list of legal substances, so she was happy when I showed up with a tin of pomegranate-flavored “happy candy.” She complained the gummies worked more slowly than the wax dabs she’d had the previous evening, but I was in no hurry. Besides, the vodka was apparently having some effect, since she kept moving closer to me as the movie slogged its way to its inevitable happy ending. I was looking for one of those myself, naturally!

“Are we gonna have another late night?” T asked, leaning hard against my side and pulling my arm up around her shoulders. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish,” I replied with a sly grin. She sat up and gave me a seriously passionate kiss. “The sooner YOU finish, you mean,” she said. Then she added, “Fuck, I’m horny!” followed by a giggle and then, “Wait – did I say that out loud?” “Say what out loud?” I shot back in an innocent tone. “Never mind, Zac. Let’s go to bed.”

I’d taken the precaution of popping a 5mg Cialis as soon as we got home from the liquor store, so I was seriously erect as I walked back to the bedroom. I’m not usually in need of pharmaceutical assistance, especially around T, but I had a feeling this was going to be a marathon event, so I wanted to be fully prepared. T had stopped off in the bathroom, so I stripped off my pajama bottoms and slid underneath the covers. She popped in a minute later, climbing over me to reach her side of the bed. As she joined me under the comforter and pulled me toward her, she felt my hard cock bump up against her thigh. “Well, I see you don’t need a hot story to get you in the mood,” she whispered into my ear. I reminded her she’d promised me one anyway, so she rolled onto her side with her back against me, and we spooned a while as she worked her way through a very interesting tale.

T’s EROTIC STORY: After some soul-searching and advice from a couple of girlfriends, she’d dumped 20-y/o “James the Boy Toy” on New Year’s Eve, primarily because he was boring, not very bright, and lacked ambition. Also, “I could put up with his premature ejaculations, because he has a big dick and got hard again fast. But he did a shitty job eating pussy, so that was the last straw.” T decided it was too much work to find some other guy, especially since the pickings in the area were slim, plus she was starting to freak out about her med-related weight gain. “My Rabbit became my best friend, although I tried not to use it too much, since I was worried about desensitizing my clit.” In mid-February, one of her former convenience-store coworkers had been invited over for dinner. During the evening, more than a foot of snow got dumped, and it kept coming down, which resulted in them being stuck in her double-wide trailer for three days. Thankfully they had plenty of food, about a thousand DVDs to watch, and a fair amount of weed. Donna was an athletic 5-10 Scandinavian blonde in her late 30s, slender with barely B-cup tits, and a firm butt. T said they’d never done anything remotely sexual during the six months they’d worked together, but the combination of isolation, cannabis, and having to share a bed got the best of them. “She saw my Rabbit on my bedside table and asked me how it worked. Instead of using it on myself, I pressed it against her panty-covered crotch and switched it on. Before you knew it, we’d stripped off all our clothes, the vibrator got tossed aside, and we were grinding against each other’s pussies like crazy. She had her first girl/girl orgasm, and things just escalated from there.” T admitted she talked Donna into going down on her, although, “She didn’t need much convincing, after I’d initiated things by munching on her cunt for nearly an hour.”

T probably would have continued her tale but, halfway through her narrative, I’d slipped my erect cock in between her thighs and she’d arched her back just enough so I could enter her well-lubricated pussy. It was easy to do, since both of us were naked below the waist. I held steady to keep from distracting her, but she suddenly stopped talking and started to thrust against me. I let her do most of the moving and waited to see how far she wanted to take things. “I’m too drunk to get on top,” she admitted, even though I hadn’t made any such suggestion. “Doggie me, OK?” It was more an order than a request, but I was happy to oblige.

At my age, my knees aren’t what they used to be – arthritis, you know – so I find it much more comfortable to modify that position. I withdrew from T’s pussy, climbed off the bed after tossing the covers aside, and grabbed her ankles to pull her toward the bottom edge of the mattress. She squealed a bit from the rough way I manipulated her, but after I spanked her ass and told her to get up onto her knees, she understood immediately what I was after. I clamped my hands onto her hips and hauled her as close to the edge as I could without having her fall to the floor, and then I thrust forward. Her wide-open pussy accepted my erection with ease, and I leaned forward with my knees pressing firmly against the top edge of the mattress for improved leverage. While standing up, I’m much more capable of fucking for a while, since rocking back and forth on my feet is far easier than doing it on my knees, where I find it necessary to use my arms to support my weight. T likes a long, hard fuck, where she can reach down and rub her clit with no worries about sudden withdrawal. The orgasms she experiences from finger-fucking and pussy eating are frequent and continuous, but the ones triggered via fucking can be incredibly intense and nearly exhausting for her.

Such was the case here, where I pounded her nonstop for a good 20 minutes. She was making a lot of noise, none of which came out as actual words but was more guttural. Suddenly she reached back to dig her fingers into my thighs, which indicated she wanted me to stop pumping, shimmied her ass against my crotch, and let out such a massive groan that I was glad the closest neighbor was two lot spaces away. It ended up being the most intense orgasm she experienced the entire time we were together, although I didn’t know that at the time. I wasn’t even sure how long she’d held her breath, but she finally exhaled loudly and flopped forward. I backed away from the bed, breathing hard myself, and admired T’s lovely thighs and dripping-wet pussy. Unlike the previous evening, she’d left the bedside lamp lit, clearly less self-conscious about her appearance. Either that, or she’d been too well-lubricated with alcohol to notice the room wasn’t dark. Either way, I was definitely enjoying the view.

T asked me for a glass of water. When I returned, I found she’d stripped off her t-shirt and sports bra. “Is it fucking hot in here, or what?” she asked rhetorically, using her right hand to reach for the glass I’d brought while simultaneously patting the empty spot on the bed next to her with her left hand. I slid in alongside after quickly stripping off my pajama top, pairing my naked body with hers. She set down the now-empty glass and reached across to run her slender hand across my chest and tweak my nipples. My cock had sagged a little during my trip to the kitchen, but her touch revived things down below. “You didn’t come yet, did you?” T asked while already knowing the answer. I explained I’d been too busy concentrating on staying hard enough to make sure she got off, which she had – massively. “OK, it’s your turn,” she declared. Roll over onto your back. I want you to pump that man-jizz down my throat!” Rather than setting up alongside me, with her body resting against my chest as she had the previous night, T climbed over my outstretched right leg and knelt between my widespread thighs. She wrapped the first two fingers of her left hand firmly around the base of my cock, slid her right hand down against her crotch, and lowered her mouth until it engulfed the length of my penis that extended above her hand.

I’m not a large guy – 5-1/2” from base to circumcised tip – so she didn’t have much difficulty taking the entire exposed length of my cock between her lips. I hadn’t wiped my cock off after we’d fucked, so I knew she could taste her pussy juices on it. One of the things she told me years ago was allegedly the easiest way to determine if a woman was bisexual. “If she likes the taste of her own pussy on your cock or your fingers, she probably enjoys the taste of someone else’s pussy, too.” I’ve never experienced evidence to the contrary, so it must be true.

T can be quite enthusiastic when it involves cock-sucking. I was fairly sensitive, given how much I’d used my dick over the past 24 hours – a lot more than in the previous month, quite frankly. Several times I asked her to slow down and lessen the pressure she was using at the base of my cock. Finally, she slid her hand down around my balls and massaged them gently while deep-throating me and even gagging a bit. I started to pump my hips, so she stopped bobbing her head up and down and instead let me fuck her mouth at my own pace. While all this was transpiring, she was rubbing her clit with her free hand and groaning loudly – not nearly as much as before, but enough to signal she was close to a self-induced orgasm. A few grunts on her part, coupled with my faster pace of bucking my hips up and down, and I cut loose with three healthy pumps of cum down her throat. Even though all the signs had been there, my ejaculations may have caught her by surprise. Nonetheless, she remained in place until I was finished unloading, swallowing every drop like a champ. I was too wound up to notice if she’d induced her own orgasm while I was spurting, but at that point I didn’t really care.

“Damn, Zac – how does a guy your age come so much two nights in a row?” I had no answer for her, so I simply said, “Beats me,” shrugged my shoulders, and rolled onto my side. T laughed, which meant her words weren’t intended as an accusation, only an observation. She climbed off the bed, declaring she needed some more water to clear her throat, and walked out of the bedroom stark naked. When she returned a couple of minutes later, she slipped her t-shirt back on but left the bra on the floor. A quick kiss goodnight sealed the deal, and we ended the evening lying bare butt to bare butt as I quickly fell asleep.

Part III to follow.