Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Wherehouse Tamara

She was barely over five feet tall. A big head of long curly shoulder length hair. She would, as we all could, wear blue jeans to work, My favorite pair had stars on each bun of her tiny behind. They wiggled and winked and twinkled at me every morning as she passed through the warehouse from parking lot to front office. That’s  where she worked.

I would make sure I was positioned where I could watch her well formed tiny tits bounce in their often braless state beneath sheer fabric in the summer. I enjoyed the round enhanced garment heftiness in her winter attire as well. But the real treat was her tiny round  be-starred behind. The way her long dark curly hair bounced in rhythm around her shoulders in her jaunty trek through the warehouse made mornings better than the somewhat nasty morning brew that came out of the coffee machine. But spending the rest of the day flinging boxes and filling out shipping forms was filled with visions of me ravishing that doll sized young woman in almost every corner and almost every office in the place.

Tiny Tami had tan lines. I knew that from a company lunch in the conference room where she leaned over to grasp a tasty fried tidbit. I could see down her blouse where the tan stopped and the perfect milky white breast began. It was like a beacon in it’s braless state. Not farmer tan lines. Full tilt nineteen seventies baked on the beach bikini tan lines. Such  fair skin revealed on top only made me want to trace where the imagined bikini bottom tan would end. The land where the bikini stopped and the bliss began. Tamara did not notice where my eyes had violated. The other women in the room did. At nineteen I blushed at being caught peeking. That would not last long. Still discovering where those lines in the tan were drawn would be my quest while working at the warehouse. I was living the American Scheme.

Some of the older, predatory, and libidinous women in the shop were making plans of their own. They saw were my eyes had gone. They knew what that look meant. They knew how to channel that youthful energy to it’s telos. By the time I got to tanned tiny Tammy my bag of tricks would be stuffed and seeping with a dripping sensual repertoire. But for starters I would work, go to school,  and on weekends my long time amour Rene would reap the energetic but inartful thrusting to the tiny Tamara  tune in my little reptile reproduction drive driven being.

Friday, November 21, 2014

Wherehouse Tasha


Another Friday slinging boxes at the warehouse. We had a lot of orders to pick and get out before UPS showed up at the end of the day. Usually nothing provoked more anxiety in Ricky and I than to see one of the sales staff in the warehouse late Friday. Often that meant they had just made a sale and would demand getting a new order out quickly to impress their new sales prey. No sales person in the place struck me as more predatory than Tasha. She was a sleek five foot six, slender torsoed blond with a luscious rounded bottom. Whether in jeans or a flowing dress her bottom was tops. She had short curly blond bobbed hair that could only be described as fluffy. Often it fluttered about her face obscuring her right eye while her other eye would slyly size you up. To me she was the personification of the idiom of the times. Foxy.  

This Friday afternoon she was particularly so. She approached me slowly, almost panther like, not dressed for business success but in Friday night party attire. The slit down the front of her black dress plunged between her small well rounded breasts. Since her tits were too small for cleavage the slit revealed an astounding amount of explorable territory between her pleasure peaks.

“ I need to ask you a question about an item back here in section J, Peter.”  With a provocative crook of her finger and cock of her head she marched into the aisle. I followed behind and admired how the fabric of that black dress danced about her ass as she lead me into the labyrinth of towering warehouse shelves.

When we had travel nearly to the back of the warehouse Tasha abruptly stopped causing me to bump into her heavenly backside. That was not the first time that had happened and was certainly not the last.

A half hour after a discrete rubbing from her skirted butt pressing against my jeaned groin in the warehouse aisles we were in Annie’s office, Tasha’s skirt flipped up over her back, panties long gone and her face buried in Annie’s snatch. Annie’s eyes were glassy with lust as she intently watch my young and well muscled midsection doing marvelous maneuvers within and without Tasha’s twat.  Activities that were only obscured from her view by Tasha’s upraised tush.

When Annie and Tasha would go out on the town, Annie would let me do everything but fuck her.

“Don’t want to serve a fine gentleman another man’s leavings.” Annie would regally pronounce. “At least not the first time I am with him.”

Like I said. Annie was posh.

Sometime Tasha would join in the Friday Night Follies warm up. Today Tasha led the plunge into Friday night. Tasha would let me fuck her. Tasha said that was what douches were for. I was never sure if she was referring to me or not.

As I did my disco dance, slamming rhythmically into Tasha’s sopping hot pussy, I enjoyed the view of Annie, splayed on her desk, dress dropped half mast revealing her bountiful ski jump sloped breasts and growing nipples encouraged by Tasha’s tongue ministrations. Tasha’s mouth howled into Annie’s tunnel as her cunt clenched about my furiously spurting cock. We collapsed in a heap onto Annie’s managerial desktop.

All I know is they would be two very wound up, full tilt disco dancing babes when they went out those nights. They seemed invigorated, while I would feel spent and sleepy. Disco was never my thing, but I was always happy to explore under the flowing dancing skirts those two women.

Rene was happy those nights too. Friday date night often ended at my place. As we fell asleep in each others arms all sweaty and spent she would coo into my ear, “You lasted soooo long tonight Pooh.”

Monday, October 20, 2014

Wherehouse Annie


“What was the name of your home town?” I gasped trying to divert and delay.
Annie was looking at me with her startling blue eyes which peered out from under her ratted blacker than black hair. Cut short with a single curl for a side burn on either side of her rouged cheeks, she seemed to me to be the last of the mods from Great Britain. No doubt she once screamed for John, Paul, George, and Ringo in her day. Now it was the late nineteen seventies and she smiled at me and said, "I'm from Kaddiff," in that accent that always made my nineteen year old cock stiffer than it usually was. She was the poshest women I had ever met. Or at least that is how I felt as she was giving me a handjob in the warehouse office where we both worked. The way her tits had the ski slope swoop from the braless seventies fashion and came to a point of reserved British ecstasy while pulling apart the unbuttoned flimsy fabric of the polo shirt had me smitten and bitten. The view was bringing me off fast. Just like the kitten liked it when working my dick with her mittens. I would last a little longer when she mounted me after business hours. These were the best work breaks ever.
But if Donna, the other “woman of a certain age” I was intimate with at my fun house warehouse job found out all hell would break loose. With that I broke loose and with perfect as ever timing Annie’s mouth covered my cocks top and slurped up every last drop. Only strands of my cum saw the light of day as she threw her head back and swallowed my load with her incredible sense of bravado.
“Well done my boy.” Annie said as she took out her compact to inspect her lipstick and face for any telltale signs of my seed.
I opened the office door and nearly walked right over Tami. Tami was at best five feet tall. She was my age, had long brown hair which fell past her shoulders in a frizzy perm that nature had given her. She was lucky it was the seventies because that was the style. Other decades might be more problematic, but for me her hazel eyes, extreme tan, and tiny butt captured what desire was left within me after Annie's vigorous stroking. That was of course when I was not negotiating a pot and fucking deal with Donna, or finding stories to tell Rene, my long term amour, about why I had to cancel a date. Donna she would understand about because one thing Rene liked almost as much as me was pot. Maybe more than me. But good dope at a cut rate was something Rene would accept. Even if I came home smelling of middle aged pussy to get it. Rene was a pragmatist.

Tami was not. When she went into Annie's office after me I wondered if she would get some Kaddiff  as well. Annie used her management role as well if not better than any man did in those days of disco. This was the land before sexual harassment was  recognized as a crime. So we were all fucking like bunnies in the workplace. As I recall it was mostly consensual.. Not being in a role of power I was not a predator and if Annie was a predator, I was willing and eager prey. That woman fucked me blue while II worked there and I am forever grateful.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Wherehouse Ellen

Ellen Joy

Ricky and I were out in the parking lot playing our version of handball. Really it was just slapping a tennis ball against the factory wall and keeping a pseudo type of tennis score. Boy it was hot that day. One of those steamy August days in Chicago. As usual Donna and Annie were sitting on the shipping dock watching us spend our lunch hour running around working up a sweat. At twenty years old neither Ricky nor I had a clue why these two 40 something women would watch us so intently, or had any idea of the thoughts that were going through their heads. Call us naive.
We all worked for an advertising specialty company, Ricky and I were shipping clerks, and Annie and Donna were engravers, silk screeners, and general production staff. It was a small company run by Sheldon Roth.
Ricky and I were in full lather, our shirtless muscled young man bodies running  and pounding the tennis ball into the wall when Ellen Joy, the freelance artist sauntered out onto the loading dock. Ellen Joy was in her thirties, the Bohemian artist type sporting a floppy sun hat, a sheer peasant blouse over tight jean shorts and lace up sandals. Not usual business attire, but with a long relationship as company artist casual was acceptable. Ellen Joy was a five foot five enigma to me. She had straight black hair  cropped in a 1970’s feather cut with bangs that swept seductively over her left eye. Perfect olive skin, well formed breasts that stood up proudly in the often bra-less state she sported under sheer white blouses. You could detect large brown nipples under the fabric. With my limited experience of skinny blondes and red headed Irish girls, those nipples were an endless focus of my attention. Ellen Joy knew that. She would always give  me a big smile with her prominent white teeth couched in soft full lips as she bounced through the dock on her way to meet with Sheldon. But that was only a preview of the best part. It was the full round buttocks that would wiggle through the loading dock that would grab Ricky,s and my eyes like super glue when she would pass through.
On this day she sent a big smile in our direction and slowly looked us up and down with a leer that I never knew a woman could pitch,  punctuated with a wink in our direction, Since it was at a distance Ricky and I would argue the rest of the afternoon over who it was meant for.
First thing next morning Sheldon had an assignment for me. Apparently Ellen Joy had forgotten the product sample she needed for her design work and I was to deliver it to her studio at precisely eleven AM. The time was made clear to me , twice.
I was at Ellen Joys door at eleven on the dot. Ellen Joy’s studio was actually her apartment so I was a little shy, but very curious to see how a thirty year old Bohemian lived. The door opened and there was Ellen Joy, hair wet and blacker than usual but still seductively straight and provocatively swept over her left eye.  She had a blue satin robe loosely draped over her fragrant freshly showered body. I stammered a few apologies for being too early even though I knew I was not.  She put me at ease quickly by waving me on in and closing the door behind her. The view of her round booty was exceptional in that rather sheer robe as she led me into the room. When she turned to receive my delivery her robe was perched perilously close to slipping beyond those extraordinary areolas I had fantasized about endlessly.
With product in her hand held up to the light of the large apartment windows she gave me a tantalizing view of her bodies silhouette under the flowing robe. My youthful exuberance let out an audible sigh.
When Ellen Joy turned she said “I am going to need your assistance for a few moments. Can you pitch in for the company?”
“Of course,” I said quickly and eagerly not really knowing what I was agreeing to, but since the front of the robe was now revealing the dark brown edge of one of those brown desire disks that tipped a goodly portion of Ellen Joy’s left boob, I would have agreed to almost anything at that point.
“I need you to photograph something to reference as a font style I am thinking of using. I have tried but I cannot get focus or proper angle for my needs.” With that she handed me a simple camera. I was momentarily disappointed that  she really needed me to do something rather than the sex fantasy my little monkey brain had instantly cooked up.
But hope sprang eternal as did my erection. She turned and lowered the robe revealing her bareback, tiny black thong, and a tattoo above her bulbous bountiful booty. Ellen Joy looked over her shoulder to see the look on my face and then explained. “If you look real close at my tattoo and stop looking at my ass you will see that it is made up of very tiny script. I need you to get a clear picture for my art reference. If you do a good job on that, and you are a good boy, maybe I’ll show you my tits.” For emphasis Ellen Joy had demured and wrapped her arms to cover her breasts .
Being a good scout, I put the lens close to the tattoo and indeed it was made up of very small characters. Of course rather than marveling at the skill of the tattoo artist I was enjoying the scent of this freshly showered Italian beauty.
I took a couple of shots with the Polaroid and let the photos develop in the apartments sunlight. Once satisfied I showed her my work.
“Good job,” she exclaimed and pirouetted around while raising her arms high above her head.  She struck a pose that displayed her perfect pair of large brown nipple crowned boobs with salacious delight. I basked in the vision of the straight black hair that framed her features,  her flawless tanned bareness, and full womanly hips.  Ellen Joy approached me and ran her arm along the ridge of my broad shoulders. My hand caressed her hip as I greedily reached for a handful of her firm round ass. Ellen Joy whispered in my ear, “Now see if you can write me a story with your tongue in that tattoo font so I can really feel it”
With that Ellen Joy pushed down on my shoulders bringing me to my knees as  as I pulled her thong to her ankles leaving me face to face with her full retro nineteen seventies Italian black bush in my face. She draped one of her legs over my shoulders which opened the moist pink rose beneath the furry fringe. As my tongue made slow sweeping motions across the slick palette of Ellen Joy’s cunt I wrote of desires I had never told any girl before, but Ellen being a women understood. As I worshiped at her moist curly black haired altar with my young and resolute tongue I heard her say breathlessly “I think I am going to need you for the rest of the afternoon. Let me call Sheldon, He’ll understand.”

Friday, September 19, 2014

Random Access Lynn: 2.Beer Rinse

Six Months Later

Beer Rinse

Lynn settled in at the camp ground bar next to me. Her stature placed her pert breasts just above the rim of the bar, much to the delight of the young corn fed Wisconsin boy bartender. Lynn gave him her sexist sweet smile as her thin lips parted over perfect white teeth and ordered a beer. This pleased him to no end because I don’t think elaborate cocktails were in his repertoire. He did not much care for race day weekends. Especially "The June Sprints" because a lot of city folk came up from civilization to invade his dairy land digs. Lynn looked him up and down and she made sure he and I saw her do it. Jim's cum still fresh on her breath and she was already thinking about more.

“Jim heading in soon?” I queried.

“He’ll be along soon I imagine. He’s a bit spent at the moment.” She smiled up at me and both drank and rinsed her mouth with the beer as her hand ran up my thigh. “Speaking of spent, I hope Fred enjoyed our time together last week. I could tell you two had shared a woman before. I was well done and sore for days. But I am better now,” she said and gave my stiffening cock a squeeze. “Hope Jim’s happy with the hummer I gave him, cause you’re getting my better bits you delicious man. Shame Eileen couldn't make it.”

I still had mixed feelings about drawing together Fred, Lynn, and almost Eileen. But Eileen was from the way back column so that trip down memory lane held no surprises.

It was right out of school that Fred had taken up photography. With his pretty young girl friend Helen and her best friend Eileen he had started taking portraits and candid snaps of that lovely pair. Eventually some of those portraits moved to a more intimate and erotic sort of venue. Helen had also made it no secret to Fred that Eileen had thought I would be something she might enjoy. I believe she had told Helen after the first time the four of us sat in a circle crossed leg, smoking what was smoked in big old pass around joints in the seventies.

“I never had the urge to just want to make out with a guy so much in my life. I mean, I just meet him, but oof, I could dig my claws deep into that skinny ass of his. How serious is he about that tiny titted girl friend of his?” Eileen had shared with Helen

To the heavenly endowed Eileen, every woman could be said to be tiny titted. Even the magnificently proportioned Helen. Yet Helen did what a friend does and had Fred make inquiries. Fred communicated the same message to me in man speak. While we were out fishing one day he said, “You know Helen’s friend Eileen wants to jump your bones. I’ll bet you could figure out a few things to do with those tit’s of hers, eh.”

With that a fish struck my lure. Not a tap, a strike, so I set the hook and fought that fish for a good five minutes and landed the most beautiful large-mouth bass I had seen to date.

“It is all about using the right bait my friend.” I said as I sat down in the boat and began pondering the possibilities Eileen's breasts could afford me.

So even though I was serious about my tiny titted girlfriend it did not stop Fred, Helen, Eileen, and I from doing some group experiments together. Sure it started as being paired off on living room floors, and party sofas. One thing led to another, first swapping, Giving Helen the satisfaction of knowing Fred did not prefer her best friend, while she gained first hand knowledge putting to rest any possible fantasies of me. Finally the experimenting culminated in the healthy and lesbian leaning Eileen lapping greedily under Helen’s haunches. I from below got the double feature view of a naked bouncing Helen while I grasped Eileen's magnificent tits. This while pumping in Titty Ei's, as she was affectionately known, flat but welcoming white ass. Fred pummeled Eileen's cock adverse cunt from above as he enjoyed the vision of his lovely Helen writhing on Eileen's prominent Irish chin.

After that coup de grĂ¢ce we ended those healthy young animal romps for many reasons. But mostly because Eileen, for varying reasons felt photographically exploited by the couple and that her affection for Helen was being misused.

I stayed with my tiny titted girlfriend while Eileen faded away. So much so that although Helen and her had been lifelong friends Eileen demurred from attending the joyous union of Fred and Helen in matrimony.

Now with Fred and Helen separated just in time for the libidinous Lynn and her dual penetration fantasies being bestowed upon me, it was good thing Fred and I had that history and not lost our touch. I would not have known another I could have quickly felt comfortable with, other than Jim, so we had rhythmically satiated the insatiable Lynn just a few nights before. Double bonus was that Eileen once again had become a favorite subject for Fred’s camera. These two collaborating made me question Eileen's professed lesbian credentials since her suspicious arrival on the heels of marital issues for Fred and Helen; ensconcing herself in Fred’s camp so to speak.

So yet again Fred had set me up with Eileen for this “camping” trip. With both me and Lynn as bait. Eileen agreed eagerly and could have been said to be, “chomping at the bit,” or at least tapping the lure. This weekend would have been my turn to be the meat in the sandwich between Lynn and the still aptly nicknamed Titty Ei but for Eileen demurring at the last moment.

My reverie was ended by Jim bounding into the rustic bar and announcing loud enough for all to hear, “The drinking lamp is lit!” He threw his arms over mine and Lynn's shoulders and inserted himself in the middle.

Drink we did.

Monday, August 25, 2014

Random Access Lynn: 1. Six Months Later

A Woman Of Note on Amazon

Six Months Later

Lots of questions were filling my head as I sat at the camp site. It was a fine June day.The sun was shining. The two tents had been set up, wood ready for the campfire at night. Dinner and gear stowed and ready for the next two days at the June Sprints car races in beautiful Elkhart Lake Wisconsin. So here were the questions.

Why was I sitting outside a tent listening to the unmistakable slurping sounds Lynn makes when giving head. Why were they so exaggerated. For my benefit I had little doubt. The under played groaning of Jim getting ready to come which I clearly recognized from our tandem servicing of account wenches.

Why had Eileen canceled on me at the last moment. On that I had some inclination as to the reasons. Eileen was a highly intuitive lass and perhaps I had underestimated her because of her Catholic School upbringing. Perhaps Lynn had underestimated her because of Eileen's huge breasts and a small breasted women’s readiness to assume the worse about well endowed felines.

But the biggest question was why Lynn and I were still carrying on with impunity as well as increasing boldness some six months after our first furtive and highly charged tango on the razors edge of Berserker relationship abandon.

Not a word, glance, or change in Jim’s demeanor toward me. If anyone had changed in our interactions it was me, with Jim chalking it up to my normal allusive detachment.

Meanwhile Lynn’s demands and needs had grown exponentially. That was one reason Eileen had been worked into our little circle. Alas that ship has seemed to have sailed at this juncture.

The flexible Lynn also had been the catalyst to change a life long friendship I had maintained with Fred and Helen.  Whether that was for the better or worse remains to be seen. That could also have been the result of the always tenuous situation one has when bringing together the characters from two separate life epochs. Past and present have tumultuous results when joined at times.

I walked to the clubhouse nee supper-club that this country club turned campground had morphed into hoping my erection from the sucking symphony Lynn had orchestrated for me would subside before reaching my destination. I ordered a PBR draft that came in at the ludicrous price of forty five cents. There are things I love about my neighbors to the north. I had just started to sip my brew when in walked Lynn. My first clue was the bartenders eyes which were drawn towards her. Erect nipples were highly apparent under her tiny white T shirt. She had apparently enjoyed her service to Jim. Knowing her she was continuing her enjoyment as the good looking young bartender’s gaze locked on those perky buds of desire.

Another night out with Jim and Lynn. Well maybe it was a good thing Eileen had backed out.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Smitten by The Easter Bunny...

It is better to give than receive.

As we sat there looking across to each other it became apparent that one of the good things about the inadequacies of language is that some things need not be said.

“Let me turn up the heat and draw you a bath.” I said as I rose.

I was please to find upon entering the bathroom that Judy, although a very busy woman, had not been neglecting herself. She had a wide array of scented bath oils and crystals as well as a large bathing sponge and plenty of clean fluffy towels. I chose a pleasantly scented oil that was half full, found a ideal temperature and allowed the bath to begin filling as slowly as possible. When I returned I found she had positioned herself in her meditation area and breathing the deep relaxed cadence of one experienced in the practice.

As I knelt down before her she looked at me through half closed eyes and said “Even though Rene filled me in about this, I can’t say I am sure of what I do?” Rene was a girlfriend of mine from college days, and Judy was the sister of my best friend to this day. Judy and I went back a long way.

“That’s the whole point,” I said softly, “ You do just what you are doing now, breath, clear your mind of everything and just experience with all your being. There are no goals to be reached. Only each eternal moment.” We sat eye to eye and I allowed my breathing to match hers as I admired the beauty before me. When I had cleared my mind of everything but her I rose and led her by the hand to the bath.

I slowly unbuttoned the heavy winter sweater she was wearing sensing that the temperature in the room was now sufficiently comfortable and slid it from her shoulders, then lifted the lighter silk garment that she wore beneath slowly over her yellow mane and laid gentle kisses on every area of slowly revealed alabastrine skin. Being a fair haired blond her skin was radiant. I let each discarded garment gently fall to the tile. As I released her full and delicious breasts from their fabric embrace I added appropriate licks and ever so gentle nibbles where appropriate. I knew the marks from the bondage of these astonishingly full breasts would be washed away with the warm soapy bath. As I unbuttoned the woolen skirt and slid it down over the curve of  her hips and over her engagingly small derriere I took extra care with the kissing and teasing proximity to my eventual poetic palette. Judy’s breath was quickening and I had to be mindful to keep mine even. Eventually the woolen skirt and kisses made there way to the ground floor roving along the longest legs I have ever run caresses down. I took the opportunity for additional and apparently pleasantly invigorating near kisses with the removal of her simple and sheer panties. She placed her hand on my head gently to steady herself as I rolled the silk stockings over her feet. While kneeling in front of her I looked up to see wide blue eyes past brimming round breasts and delicately moist flaxen haired folds. It was clear my attentions were being fully appreciated.

I took her hand as she stepped into the tub, and while she stood there I used the scented water and bath sponge alternating with intimately placed and tender kisses to cover every inch of this majestic blond. As I lowered her into the tub I said, ”Now just soak and relax for a bit. As she sank into the warm and lushly slick water I slowly removed my clothes while she watched and splashed a bit as she luxuriated herself with the sponge. When I was through and stood before her she looked me up and down and quipped, “It looks like you are enjoying this as well”, and giggled like the eighteen year old girl I remembered.

“I’ll prepare the other room” I remarked and I grabbed some towels as I left. I lit some candles and used some of her sandalwood incense. I set up Judy’s massage table in the middle of the room and perused the selection of massage oils she had on hand and selected what would be the best for the encounter. I looked about approvingly and focused awareness again on the moment .

After drying Judy and leading her to her table I observed with awe as she stretched out on her back on the freshly laid towels. Her breasts spilled down her sides as she positioned herself and and I knelt between her thighs. I selected the oil and warmed it in my hands knowing that the room had heated enough for us both to be comfortable and naked in for quite some time. I began caressing her gently all over, paying attention to nothing but her in my hands, as I gazed into her diaphanous blue eyes. While above her I utilized some of my yoga positions to make minimal but effective bodily contact while reaching treasured areas of her full and generous charms. Sometimes she would succumb and follow that most human desire to give pleasure while receiving it but I would gently caress her hand and kiss it back to her side. Her breathing became quicker and sighs began issuing from deep within her being. Time became inconsequential to us both, but when the moment came after a longing search of each others eyes while kisses were exchanged it was then that I traversed her length once more with lips, tongue, and hands while I knelt between her now upraised knees and began that most intimate of massages. Initial contact sent a rippling wave through her whole glorious body, which seemed to continue as I explored further. Occasionally her hand would go to a place and I would begin special focus there allowing her hands to relax again with the knowledge that this was a sensitive area that needed special attentions. As the kneading moved slowly from the exterior to the inner realms I felt contact with her very being as the come hither of my fingers massaged deep within my Judy. I felt a massive release and exhalation of quaking breath. While she collected her breathing and sensory faculties, I knew it was poetry time.

Her eyes were glassy, but her breathing was fluid and deep. As I worked tongue and lips down her upraised leg and looked at her face I again saw the many faces of Judy, from teenage dream to aspiring young lady, facets I witnessed through the years all culminating in the mature confident woman flushed from a spiritual passion deep within. When my lips reached her moist pink veiled folds and I began with a tender yet gentle flourish to share my poem, with some ad libs for effect of course, I felt her moan through her entire body and we wailed our impassioned mantra as one. With my tongue between Judy's thighs I  found her particular joy when I would make a revision and have to scratch out my error by rolling my tongue into an eraser which upon application would evoke a peak of epic proportions. I think I was making mistakes on purpose, only to resume as my tongue made sweeping calligraphic strokes and I tasted her flowing bliss.

I was recalling the first time I met Judy after my return to the city. Being an old family friend I was invited by her mother to share Easter dinner with the family. Here was a woman whom I remember as a wild teenager, a married woman and now was presented with this delightful divorcee. I remembered my feelings at that meeting and I was sharing them now in the most intimate of ways. This was my evenings composition recalling that first meeting as I composed on Judy’s moist pink palette as it parted pleasingly beneath my quivering tongue de plume...

Smitten by The Easter Bunny...

The Easter Bunny
made an appearance today
when I least expected it
There she was
fair haired
soft blue eyes
peaches and cream complexion
cute nose
even cuter tail
full figured
delightful smile
wonderful laugh
yet intriguingly vulnerable
a walking talking basket of goodies

and then I woke up
Or did I.......

That last series of dots did it.

I can only hope bad poetry never felt so fine.

I rose from my knees to view the five foot ten inch full figured blond woman sprawled glowingly spent on her massage table. While I admired my handy work of lingering shivering shakes, Judy looked up at me through slits concealing glazed blue eyes and her moist ruby lips parted rewarding me with a smile I had only seen in dreams long ago.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

6. A Woman Of Note: Fade To Black


I knelt before Lynn while she sat on the sofa and took a sip of what was left of her nightcap. She looked down and said, “That is not going to waste.”

Thursday, February 6, 2014

5. A Woman Of Note: Ripple List


Her minimalist hourglass shape combined with anti abstract genital offering was more than I could process mentally. I went full physical and was upon her sweet spots with a pounce.