Chapter Four - Input/Output

'I sleep late not even stirring when my husband gets up and leaves for the office. A far distant buzzing, like the muffled sound my vibrator makes when it is working its magic between my thighs, disturbs my slumber gradually intruding into my private world until my eyelids flutter open.

'The sun is beating through the partially drawn curtains, dancing over the pillow, warming my tousled short brown hair. I am lying face down my mouth is open, drooling onto the pillow my hands are cupped between my legs my silk chemise pushed up to my breasts my sex held tightly in my palms I must have been having one of those erotic dreams that visit me so soften these days. I wish I could remember what it was about what has made me so wet?

'My attention is drawn back to that annoying buzzing. It is coming from the garden. Peeking through the curtains I see him. His shirt is off and his muscular back is tanned. It is the young boy from down the street whom my husband hired to take care of the garden for the summer. I forget his name I think it is it is Billy. He must be all of sixteen and quite athletic. He is wearing faded blue jeans, and as I mentioned, no shirt. His hair is not too long, blonde darker in parts where the sweat of his labours dampens his locks. I can see the sweat beading at the back of his neck, slipping down his tanned shoulders forming little rivers of moisture that trickle down his spine.

'The buzzing is due to the machine he is using it is one of those infernal petrol powered leaf blowers that are used to disperse all the little flotsam and jetsam of the garden over as wide an expanse as possible. Billy if that is his name is lost in the music that dulls the sound of the blower. He is equipped with one of those personal stereos that seems such an obligatory accessory for today's youth. Despite the annoyance of the blower, I am struck my the way he swings the nozzle of the machine to and fro holding it out in front of him like a mammoth erection. I wonder how big his teenage penis is? Is his pubic hair fully grown or does he have that downy covering that will one day grow coarse and full?

'Perhaps he senses my lurid thoughts because for no apparent reason he looks suddenly up at the bedroom window. He stares, seemingly directly at my eyes, peeking at him so voyeuristically through the small gap in the curtains. In the moment before I pull away I'm sure our eyes meet his young blue innocence connecting with my green eyed lust. I draw the curtains tightly shut my heart beating like the pistons of a runaway steam train my pussy wetter for the excitement of it all.

'I go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face trying to dampen the erotic feelings pulsing through my veins. Looking in the mirror, I stare deep into my soul and replace the cooling water with my sexiest perfume. Using the crystal top of the bottle as an applicator, I run beads of sweet smelling liquid between my breasts, around my nipples, along my thighs, across my belly, down my back I wet my hands with the perfume and rub it into my pubic nest, pushing between my legs and my bottom mixing the juices of my desire with the expensive perfume to produce a musky miasma of lustful anticipation. I brush my short locks, styling them to sexily frame my face as I arrange my silk chemise to drape as revealingly as possible off of my shoulders. As a final touch I coat my lips with the reddest lipstick I have. I look like one of those bombshell movie stars of old.

'As I make my way down the stairs I feel like I'm walking in a mist as if this is one of those naughty dreams I've been having. Before entering the kitchen, I pass through the living room and arrange a few of my husband's most appropriate of magazines on the coffee table. Pulling open the drapes to the patio doors, I stand with my hand on my hip, the other hand casually playing with the neckline of my chemise. Billy is unaware of my presence until his cleaning activities turn him in my direction. He averts his eyes from me, but gradually returns my looks as he realises that I'm waving at him. He switches off the blower and puts it down, advancing to the patio door. I catch my breath as he walks towards me, his supple body, his firm chest, tanned and hairless, glistening with sweat. He pulls the earphones from his head and lets them lie casually around his neck. He smiles and stops just a few feet from the door. Shaking, I open it, letting the hot morning breeze rustle my thin clothing against my body, revealing to Billy my shapely curves. He maintains his smile, never once giving an indication that he knows I'm naked underneath the burgundy silk chemise.

' "Hi, Mrs Adams." '

' "Hi you must be..." '

' "Billy" '

' "Hi Billy it's pretty hot out there would you like a drink?" '

' "Oh yeah, Mrs Adams. That'd be cool." '

' "Well, come into the kitchen out of the heat and I'll fix you something refreshing." '

'He walks in without the slightest hesitation and sits down at the breakfast counter. Does he suspect my motive? I think not. I close the patio door and walk around the counter to face him. I lean slightly forward so that my ample cleavage commands his adolescent attention. I can tell he is struggling with his natural urge to stare at a woman's breasts. I wonder if he is a virgin and I'm sure that even if he has fooled around with those high school girls none of them have been as well developed as me.'

' "What would you like?" '

' "Oh coke please?" '

' "I think I have some let me see." '

'I go over to the refrigerator and open the door. Bending over with my back to Billy I pretend to search for the cans of soft drink, giving him plenty of time to look up the hemline of my chemise at my curvy bottom. The light of the refrigerator illuminates the darkness between my thighs, so that the tufts of hair that descend so rudely from my pussy are easily visible to his keen gaze I can feel the heat of his eyes burning into my back as the cold of the refrigerator hardens my nipples.'

' "Ah there they are." '

'I retrieve the cans of coke and a container of ice cubes as Billy pretends to be staring at the pictures on the wall. Taking the time to put the ice cubes one by one into tall glasses, I make small conversation about school, his plans for the summer, what he wants to do when he graduates. He chats politely, glad perhaps to have a distraction from the sight of my sexy body. I make sure that there is one ice cube left over I handle it lightly, letting the heat of my fingers melt the small block. Water drips down my hands as I put the ice cube to my lips and lick it suggestively. The cold melted ice travels down my chin and follows the curve of my neck down to the enticing valley of my breasts. Looking directly at Billy I pull the ice cube from my lips and direct it down the same path as the melted flow. I rest it between my breasts shaking from the shock of the cold object in such a sensitive place. Billy swallows I know I've made his adolescent cock hard I'm now at the point of no return.'

' "I sometimes get so hot, Billy I need to cool down do you know what I mean?" '

'He nods unable to talk perhaps unable to believe his luck. Perhaps he thinks he's dreaming too having a wet dream fantasy?

'I pour the coke into the glasses and suggest that we sit down to enjoy our drinks. I lead him to the couch by his hand he follows as if drugged by my beauty. I sit down next to him and clink glasses with him. I take a sip and place the glass down next to the men's magazines I've arranged on the coffee table. Billy's attention is drawn to the picture of the naked woman reclining on a bed with her stocking covered legs spread open her cunt splayed wide by her bright red nails.

' "Do you think she is pretty?" '

' "Maybe?" '

' "Do you think I'm pretty?" '

' He nods. I add my compliments. '

' "I think you're handsome. Such a strong body." '

' I run my hands over his arms and down to his hands, pausing to stroke his fingers. I know I now have him. He is my plaything.

'I stand up and face Billy. Grabbing the straps of my burgundy chemise, I lift them slowly, deliberately, sexily off of my shoulders, pausing slightly before letting the silky garment fall like an autumn leaf to the ground. I step out of the crumpled chemise, and face the nervous youth. I am completely naked before him my breasts falling slightly to the side. My pussy damp with a welcoming moisture for his cock.

' "How do I compare?" '

' "You're better, Mrs Adams." '

' "Thank you Billy you're sweet. Would you like to touch me anywhere? You can you know I'll just lie down and you can explore my body. You can do anything you want to me. Would you like that?" '

' He nods again and mouths a silent "yes" as if his voice has suddenly failed him. Hurriedly he moves to one side as I lie down on the couch, as if he is afraid that an intimate part of my body might accidentally brush against his skin. I recline on the couch, legs slightly apart my eyes closed. After what seems like an eternity I feel his cold with sweat fingers touch my nipples. I moan slightly, and he takes this as a sign of encouragement, increasing the pressure using both hands to squeeze one of my breasts quite forcefully moulding my aching globes with his fingers as a potter might form a vase.

'I reach out and feel him shudder slightly as I put my hand on his shoulder. He does not back away though, but continues kneading, rolling, squeezing and even pinching my large breasts. He seems fascinated with the transition from the soft flesh of the tit into the hardness of the nipple the way the skin subtly changes in texture as he twists and turns my dark brown bud. I can feel the heat of his breath near to my skin as he is obviously closely observing the effect his seemingly inexperienced touch has upon my older flesh.

'My hand slides from his shoulder to behind his neck, where I massage his warm flesh. I'm not sure whether it was my touch, or his intent, but his body folds forward onto my bosom, as if pulled by my arm to my titties. He rubs his face on my ample breasts, using the two globes like pillows that someone might need to arrange so that they may sleep more comfortably. I expect him to lick my breasts, but he does not. Yet I can feel the heat of his breath on my nipples on the soft white flesh of my tits and against my thigh I can feel the swell of his erection young and firm and not too large I can tell the eagerness of his shaft to find release.

'Feeling quite bold I let my hand slide down his tanned torso to stroke the adolescent bulge in his blue jeans. He flinches slightly, but does not back away as he grows in confidence under my experienced touch. I whisper in his ear things that I think he'll want to hear encouragements enticements.

' "Do you like my tits?" '

' "Yeah they're big." '

' "Are they the biggest you've felt?" '

' "Oh yeah by far most of the girls I've felt up are pretty small and their tits aren't as soft as squeezable as yours are." '

' "Would you take off your jeans?" '

' "Yeah sure." '

'He stands up and unconsciously strikes a classic Western pose, like a young John Wayne strutting into a saloon. Unbuttoning his jeans he peels them in one movement down his muscular legs, taking of his underwear and sneakers in one fell swoop.'

' "Let me look at you standing there you are such a fine specimen of manhood." '

'He seems a little embarrassed by my praise, and moves to pick up his jeans. I am worried for a moment that I've scared him off, but he pulls out his wallet, and after a little fumbling extracts a condom. Inwardly, I smile at my naivete. Here am I thinking I have a near virgin on my hands who may have felt up a few cheerleaders behind the gym one night after the football game, when all this time he seems prepared for action. It is to be expected, I surmise, after all, my young Adonis is too good of a catch to be all innocent.

'He rolls the condom over his cock, pulling the foreskin back in the process. His dick bulges from a sparse bush of pubic hair that in the absence of heavy body hair increases his statuesque appearance. I could stare at his nakedness all day. I would love to take a bath with this boy soaping his skin all over masturbating him under the hot water.

'I open my legs wide as he kneels between them. He straddles my body with his hands, allowing me to reach under him and guide his responsive dick into my saturated opening. I am soaked with desire at the thought of having this young man's cock in me another man's dick other than my husband's and such a young man's dick in me. I can feel it twitch inside of me reminding me of the urgency of youth. Billy is in no mood for waiting as he bucks wildly into me. I am tempted to slow him down teach him the nuances of fucking but the freshness of his lovemaking is too special too priceless it reminds me of being young again and I respond in kind thrusting my belly against him with all my might. Feeling all the more randy for the way we're fucking I reach behind him and grasp his muscular bottom, pulling his taut cheeks to me, adding so much more with every thrust.

'He comes deliciously his handsome features grimacing in relief as he chokes back a moan. I feel the come pulse against my pussy through the protection of the condom, and I urge the young man on to not stop. He has little choice as I keep lifting my hips up and down so that his pelvis rubs against my mound. The motions have the desired effect as I feel my thighs quiver as I grip his young, firm body tightly between my legs. As I come I hear him whisper to me the things I want to hear.'

' "Oh Mrs Adams, you fuck me so much better than all those girls at school." '

'Through heaving breaths I fight forward a reply.'

' "Will you please come back again tomorrow. There are so many things I want to do with you." '

' "I will." '

'And he leans forward and kisses me a long, lasting kiss in which our tongues roll around each other's.

'He dresses slowly, making the excuse that he'd better finish the garden work. I continue to recline on the couch watching him dress. It exhilarates me to think that I have this young, skinny boy as my own my lover for the summer. '

' "Until tomorrow, Billy." '

' "Yeah thanks and thanks for the drink." '

' "My pleasure." '

'Indeed it was.'

'Amazing pretty hot stuff.'

'And there's plenty more some that would make that one look tame.'

As she spoke, Denise swept her arm from one end of the room to the other, encompassing in one elegant movement some thirty, jet black, five drawer file cabinets. She and Peter were in the study of her Pacific Heights home. The house, which was situated high on a hill, was an old rambling Victorian that could have easily served as a Barbary Coast brothel during San Francisco's bawdy Gold Rush days. It some how seemed an appropriate repository for such a prized collection of erotica.

'Seven years of research much of my professional life is in those drawers.'

Apparently a little lost in thought, Peter placed the file labelled 'Mrs Adams' back in its correct location.

'I'm curious why did you give it all up?'

'Personal reasons that I'd rather not go into. Let's just say that I started to realise that I'd become obsessed with fantasy to the point that reality was always failing me. It caused a lot of hurt for me for someone else. I was once tempted to throw it all away, have a good roaring fire one damp, foggy night, but for one reason or another I hung on to it. I guess it's a good job I did.'

'I should say although it will take an army of graduate students to sift through this lot, categorise it and prepare it for use in a fantasy simulation.'

'No need, Peter you underestimate my computer literacy. As part of my research I had every file abstracted and entered into an interactive database. That computer - the 586 in the corner, gathering dust has a laser optical disk memory with over a gigabit of storage. The fantasy information is all broken down according to category you name it foot fetishes, bondage with all of its sub classifications, sex with strangers, partner swapping, necrophilia, dressing fetishes, lesbianism, homosexual, transvestite, even the good old plain vanilla sex it's all in there. Within half an hour, a reasonably intelligent person can dig up all there is to know about any possible sexual fantasy replete with many examples.'

'I am impressed this will save us months of research, but we still must choose what types of fantasies we utilise to base our computer simulations on.'

'Yes and that will depend heavily upon exactly who our customers are. As I understand our marketing plan, we are to choose fantasies that can easily be adapted to both the broadest possible male and female point of view so that the software can be marketed in his and hers versions. That really doesn't help us too much because there isn't that much difference between men and women's fantasies. The difference in fantasies is more their content not their gender.'

As she spoke, Denise reclined in an overstuffed armchair. Peter sat across from her in a matching chair. They were drinking Chinese beer several half empty take away Chinese food cartons littered the fireside table testimonials to Peter and Denise's working dinner.

'Come now, Denise. How many women's magazine's are there with pictures of naked, or nearly naked men in them? Just a few. And how many men's magazines are there with pictures of scantily clad women inviting men to do all manner of things to them hundreds. If women fantasised about the same things men did then there would be just as many women's magazines as there are men's.'

'And how many men's gothic romance novels are there? Very few.'

'So gothic novels are women's pornography?'

'In a manner of speaking. Men may be more susceptible to a certain kind of visual stimulation than women, but the key common element is the escapism offered by the fantasy. Whether its buxom Barbara oozing out of her bikini for all those lonely readers to please fondle her boobies, or whether its Garth the renegade bastard servant rampaging through the stately home to force his manhood on the defenceless women of the house, the elements of sexual escapism are common. The settings may be different the stimuli varied but the common threads are all the same. People want to fuck other people and people get tired fucking the same old person over and over. For god's sake how many holes are there? With one person three or four, depending how creative or well built your partner is but multiply that by three people by thirty and the possibilities are endless. We all may have the same apparatus but we all fuck differently. The grass is always greener on the other side all of those cliches ring especially true where sex is concerned.'

'An elegant hypothesis, Denise, but how many X rated movies have you rented with which to spend a lonely evening, just you and your vibrator? And when was the last time you called a phone fantasy sex service?'

'You're missing the point, Peter. The examples you refer to X rated movies and phone sex are primarily designed to appeal to men but there are niches within those markets that are specifically designed for women and their vibrators, as you so malely put it. Take Candida Royale and her X rated movie work explicit most definitely taylored to women, with more emphasis on plot and no close ups of the come shot sure, but the basic fantasies are the same. And further, I'll warrant that there are a vast percentage of men who would rather watch a Candida Royale movie than one by the Mitchell Brothers. And just like the movies there are phone services that specialise in discriminating fantasies for women and couples and men for that matter.'

'You make a convincing case, but we can't deny our evolutionary background. It has traditionally been the macho male role to sow his wild oats and thus his fantasies surround this role of bedding a variety of women. Women tend to develop stronger emotional ties that focus on her ideal partner. Woman fantasies about the ideal man men fantasise about ideally fucking lots of women. And I maintain that this attitudinal difference is as fundamental as the physical differences between men and women.'

'That is such a typical male point of view, Peter. Do you think women wear lingerie just for men? Do you realise that even when there is absolutely no possible chance of a sexual involvement taking place, a woman may still wear sexy lingerie. You probably think that we only put on black stockings and wear suspenders when we're going out on dates. And on male female fidelity, you're operating in the dark ages. OK when the woman had to stay at home and look after twenty screaming kids all right the man had more chance to fool around. Then again there was always the milkman the baker the plumber the stay at home wife wasn't totally isolated as so much of Victorian pornography will attest to but today with just as many women as men out in the work force on overnight business trips and the like believe me, there is quite an equal opportunity for chance sexual encounters. Most of us may have one or two affairs when we're in a steady relationship, but we'll fantasise about having so much more. We'll never do it but the thought of it can keep the bedroom interesting long after the newness of each other's bodies have worn off. And there is the key to our simulations we don't go in for anything too bizarre but plenty of having sex with people other than one's regular fuck especially with people that are vastly different from one's usual partner. Believe me, after all of that research, I should know. Men and women alike will be drawn to a product that allows them to taylor to create their ideal sexual substitute to their regular partners do that and we'll be in the money. Do it so that it both partners can experience the fantasy and we'll make a fortune. Admit it Peter, hasn't some of the hottest sex you've had with a regular partner been when they've confessed a indiscretion to you whilst making love with you. Hasn't it really turned you on to think how desirable the woman you're with is to other men.'

'You seemed quite interested in my experience with Kerry.'

'I was it turned me on and I think I also made a point with you, as I remember. Did you not get as stiff as a pole recounting your experience with one woman to another woman?'

'Yes but what about jealousy?'

'An immature emotion best left out of a serious relationship. If you feel strongly about someone the fact that she lets someone else enjoy her body in no way diminishes her love or feeling for you. That is, of course, if you've not pledged fidelity to each other. Deceit is harmful much more so than honesty. I'm not advocating purposeful infidelity but if it happens, one should not be jealous. And just because your partner fantasies about it so what? If it spices up a sex life so much the better.'

'So you'd suggest that we concentrate our fantasy simulation on chance encounters sex with strangers that perhaps the regular partner finds out about.'

'In most of my research, that theme dominates. And the beauty of it is that it is so easily adapted to either the male or female point of view. Take the fantasy you've just read that could easily have been told from the sixteen year old boy's point of view.'

'I agree but all of this material in these file cabinets is quite old. Is it still relevant to today?'

'I think so perhaps even more so since there is less doing today, and more fantasising. But, Peter, we could talk all night about this subject and not resolve anything. And don't forget we have an early start in the morning. This difference of opinion can only be solved by the application of the scientific method. In other words let's gather some data to test our respective hypotheses. You go conduct a little market research I'll do likewise and let's compare notes in a week's time. We must agree to tape record everything, every comment, so there can be no selective choice of fantasies to match our respective points of view. Based upon what we find we can research the topics in the database and produce a basic outline. I'm willing to bet an evening of debauchery that my findings are still valid.'

'What bet exactly?'

'If I'm right you have to submit to my will for one complete evening and night total submission. And if you're right, I must do the same for you. A sporting bet, just to add a little extra dimension to our research.'

'But Denise with those terms, neither one of us has any real incentive to win or lose.'

'Don't be so sure remember there are things in that file cabinet that boggle the mind. I know about sexual practices that could make your skin crawl.'

As he drove back to his Berkeley apartment, Peter Purvis began to wonder if he'd made a sucker bet. The next week when he and Denise met to review the fruits of their labours, Peter knew he'd been had by a truly world class manipulator. Not quite sure whether to be worried or elated, Peter resolved to stick to computer programming as Denise told him that she would let him know when her evening of debauchery would be, just as soon as she had made the appropriate arrangements.

And with that Peter was dispatched out into the night to ruminate about his fate. He had to hand it to Denise she had been right give or take a few cosmetic differences there really wasn't much difference between men and women's fantasies. She had taken her tape recorder to her local health club the nineties' replacements for singles bars and with the instrument disguised as a personal stereo had easily recorded enough ammunition with which to conquer Peter Purvis. And his own research had easily substantiated Denise's point of view. Driving back to his solitary apartment on the other side of the Bay, Peter replayed the evening's events again in his mind. How could he have been so gullible, Peter chastised himself? Perhaps he knew that Denise was right all along? Perhaps he really wanted Denise to win the bet, placing him at her sexual mercy for a debauched night?

Peter had recounted his research efforts first.

'I wanted to observe a variety of men in a relatively unrestrained environment, so I persuaded a married friend whose wife was out of town for the weekend to accompany me and several of the members of one of the University's more rambunctious fraternities on a road trip to The Poontang Ranch, just across the California border in Nevada. The Poontang as I'm sure you know, Denise, is a brothel that specialises in custom fantasies you name it they'll create it for you. I hid the tape recorder in the car so that as we drove back, our heroic exploits were recorded.'

'I can't wait to hear what you boys got up to.'

Denise placed a notepad demurely on her crossed knees and held her pen delicately poised, ready to make a summary of Peter's research. Peter pressed the play button on the tape recorder and the sounds of male bonding filled the room.

'So what did you guys think?'

'AWESOME,' was the rowdy reply of several male voices.

'Well don't just sit there grinning what did you do? '

'I had the school teacher special ever since high school I've had a hard on for women in authority.'

'So what happened?'

'Well the assistants at Poontang's give me this little English schoolboy uniform to wear you know short trousers a cap tie and blazer and I'm made to wait in this room that looks like an old schoolroom. In walks this tall statuesque blonde she says her name is Miss Haynes, and that she is my new teacher. Man, you can't believe how she was dressed. I almost came in my short trousers I'm sure my stiffy was poking out. She had on the classic professor mortar board and gown all black. Black spike high heels black fishnet stockings and at first that was all I could see, but you could bet I let my imagination run wild thinking about what was under that gown. It was easy to do her robe was wrapped tightly around her, clinging to her shapely figure. And in those high heels she was easily six feet tall I really did feel like a little kid.

'Any way she says that I've been late on my homework every day of the term, and that such behaviour is unacceptable so she's going to have to discipline me. I say something stupid like, "Yes, Miss Haynes," and she tells me to drop my trousers and bend over the table. As she's telling me this she lets the robe fall open and I think I've died and gone to heaven. It was just like I how I used to imagine my women teachers in school when I'd go home and wank off at night thinking about them. She's wearing a black leather suspender belt all studded that holds up the fishnet stockings. And that's it no bra just these lovely big breasts swinging around as she struts around the classroom searching for the ideal cane with which to give me six of the best. Bending over the table I got the greatest view in the world of this blonde beauty striding around in those fuck me high heels with those long legs going all the way up to her neck her big titties every so often poking out from the robe the mortar board cocked sexily to one side of her head big black glasses surrounding her beautiful blue eyes and that long blonde hair she was driving me crazy. I think I squirted all over the desk just thinking about what she was going to do to me.'

'Was that all that happened?'

'No way, man. There's more to come! (sounds of raucous laughter). She finally found a cane she liked and then she came up to me lifted up my shirt and really wacked my ass hard with the cane. Jeez did it ever hurt. Six times she did it each time saying, "That's one more inch of your dick that will now get hard." And then after six of the best she gives me one almighty wack just for luck. But you know it did the trick. My boner was as hard as that cane, and ready for action. She tells me to get on the desk flat on my back god, did my ass hurt but my dick was so hard, I didn't really mind the pain. Miss Haynes climbs on the desk and towers over me, and she says in this sexy voice that practically had me coming in big old blobs, she says, "Does the naughty little boy want to fuck the teacher?" I nod, "Oh yes please, Miss Haynes." And she says, "Will the naughty little boy hand in his homework on time if I give him a little bit of teacher's cunt?" And I'm practically begging as my dick is bouncing all around, "Oh yes Miss Haynes I'll never be late again." So she puts this special condom on my dick. The rubber has all these little spikes on it, and she says, "This will make the teacher feel much better. It makes the little boy's dickie so much bigger and harder like a big man's like the kind of dick the teacher usually fucks." I dreamed of things like this happening to me when I was a kid and I've never had the nerve to get any of my girlfriends to try anything like it. I swear it was like my deepest fantasies had come true.
'She just lowers herself down on top of me so that she is squatting right over my cock. With long black fingernails she takes my rubber enshrouded dong and slips it into the wettest box I've ever had the pleasure of. She goes up and down on my shaft by bending her legs at the knees staying on her heels she never kneels down on she keeps all of her weight on her legs man, what a totally sexy sight she just goes up and down, as if she's doing her morning exercises. I lasted all of about six or seven cycles before I shot my load. She kept doing it until I got floppy and she let my dick slide out of her cunt. She got off the table by walking past my head as long as I live I'll never forget the sight of staring upwards at those towering fishnet covered thighs going up all the way to that tightly rounded arse. Man, I'm getting a boner just thinking about it.'

'AWESOME...'

And once again there followed the male bonding rituals of high fiving and similar displays of camaraderie, Peter added by way of commentary.

Two similar male fantasy tales, courtesy of the obliging Poontang's staff were told by the other students one involving a buxom cheerleader putting out for the team, and the other a high fashion model that liked to get to know her photographer. And strangely enough, photography was featured in the married man's fantasy Peter hoped it indicated a fundamental difference between men and women's fantasies, but he inwardly knew he was stretching things a little. Denise seemed unperturbed as she listened to the unfolding story, writing feverish notes as the hollow sounds of the tape recorder filled her study.

'So and what happened to you at Poontang's? Don't worry we won't tell the wife.'

'Nothing really happened, you know, like what you guys did.'

'Aw come on we saw you go into one of the rooms.'

'Well yes but nothing happened. You see I got to act out one of my greatest fantasies and it won't be finished until my wife gets home tomorrow.'

'Come on quit stalling do tell, you sly bastard.'

'OK but this is just between us I don't want my wife to know that you guys know but we have this little fantasy game we play we pretend that when she's traveling she gets drunk and picks up some guy in a bar and has a mad passionate affair for a glorious one night stand. Whenever she gets back from a trip we have the most amazing sex she tells me all about how she seduced this guy exactly how they fucked and we do all this as we're screwing. It really turns me on to think of my wife rolling around in bed with some stranger even though I know it would never happen we have an understanding that we want to be faithful to each other we both enjoy the spice that this little role playing gives our sex lives. I mean when she is telling me about how big this guy's dick was, and how he roughly fondled her breasts I think I actually believe it but in the morning it all seems like so much water under the bridge. So I took the opportunity at Poontang's to add a little something extra to our fantasy. I found the woman there that looked the closest to my wife she was built about the same had exactly the same coloured hair same length so from the back she looked almost like her, and I asked her to act out a scene of bringing some guy back to her room for a one night stand. It was great I hid behind the curtains, and with a camera that Poontang's provided I took all sorts of pictures that through the haze of the curtain should look like my wife being fucked from the rear by this big black stud oh boy was he hung. It must have been about twelve inches long. Tomorrow night I'll show them to my wife pretending that I had someone follow her and take the shots for evidence. I just know how hot that will make her we'll fuck all night long.'

'So you just took pictures?'

'Well I did play with myself imagining it was my wife was a real turn on you guys probably think I'm real weird.'

The voice that responded was that of one of the other students the one with the photographer fantasy, explained Peter to an enthralled Denise.

'Oh no man my last girlfriend and I were like that. We were really into each other we didn't fool around even though we had lots of opportunities but man did we tell each other tall stories about imaginary affairs it really made our sex life unbelievable. She moved away, but every so often she calls me up, and we get each other off on the phone telling each other about our latest fuck. She'll go crazy when I tell her about tonight. She always really got off when I took pictures of her. May be sometime I'll show them to you guys...'

'AWESOME...'

Peter clicked the tape off and looked sheepishly at Denise. 'All week I tried to find something more definitive a more obvious example of the difference between men and women's sexual fantasies. I even called up my ex wife she hung up after just a few minutes, thinking that I was just hard up and wanted to play with myself while I talked to her about her sex life. I asked her about if it turned her on to have photographs taken of her, but she got pretty defensive I think she thought I was spying on her or something perverted like that. I'm coming to the conclusion that men are definitely more visually oriented hence the pre occupation with photography and voyeurism but I have a sneaky feeling that somewhere in you vast databank of sexual fantasy research you know of women who fantasise about taking men's pictures in a variety of candid poses, and women who love to watch their husbands screwing the neighbours. I fear I'm going to loose the bet.

'Perhaps not listen to my tape and tell me what you think. I should set the scene for you. The health club I conducted my research at is in the downtown area. As such it attracts a lot of young and not so young professionals. A lot of lawyers and financial people. I mention this so as you listen you'll be aware that you're listening to reasonably intelligent fairly sophisticated people. The first two women you'll hear were next to me on the Stairmaster. They are attorneys at a local firm I guess their ages to be around thirty or so. They are both married.'

With a certain sense of finality, Denise pressed the play button.

'Have you seen the new trainer is he a hunk.'

'Tell me about it he's standing over me the other day telling me how to do butterfly presses his hands helping to move my hands in and out just inches away from my breasts and in those tight little pants he wears you can tell he's got a pretty useful unit in there.'

'And those buns oh I tell you every time that my husband gets on top and we go at it, I reach around and I grab his buns and I think of the trainer what it would be like to have him do his push ups on me.'

'Speaking of which have you had a massage lately?'

'Wouldn't miss it old wandering hands is the highlight of my week.'

'Same routine?'

'Yeah I go in, take off my robe and assume the position on the table, almost naked, face down with a little towel around my nether regions. Wandering hands comes in and begins the normal body withering massage. I've had a steam and a wrap, so I'm pretty jello brained, so I drift off into this never never land dream state, just like those early morning vivid dreams. I slip my hands under my body so that all ten fingers and two thumbs are cradled around my pussy, and I just let my fingers do the walking. And all the time old wandering hands is talking to me about my fantasies. He doesn't think they are merely my active imagination at work he thinks they're real. I'd never do half the things I tell him, but he seems to like having me confide in him. I bring myself off and he always manages to feel a little bit more of me than he would during a strictly professional massage you know, he gets a bit high on the inside of the thigh, or he likes to slip his hands around to my breasts as he rubs my back but he never whips his unit out he's a very good boy from that point of view. I sometimes think he's writing a book or something doing research on married women's fantasies.'

'Does your husband know about him?'

'Oh yeah he thinks its harmless I think he even gets off on it. I make a few things up for him.'

'Like what?'

'We were out to dinner the other night I always like to tell him these things in a public place after a few drinks it is so much fun to wind him up you can't imagine the sex we have afterwards. Anyway, I told him that some woman played with my pussy in the steam room. I said I'd just had a lovely massage by old wandering hands, and that I was feeling particularly randy, so I thought I'd go in the steam room for a long relaxing tease of my pussy. Well, you know how foggy it gets in there. I thought I was alone, and I began to slide the side of my hand up and down up and down you know the way and as I'd reach the top of my stroke I'd let my finger brush casually across my clitoris it drove my husband wild to hear about this I thought he was going to tear my clothes off me right there at the bar or something extreme like that. Anyhow, with my husband squirming around on his seat practically tripping over his drooling tongue, I tell him the next thing I know is that I feel another hand down there at first I'm a little shocked, but I tell myself I'm dreaming. I know I'm not, but it's my way of rationalising not resisting. Through the dense steam I can barely make out the shape of a feminine figure naked stroking my labia for all she's worth. I tell my husband, "God, was it good." And by now he's mumbling about how much he's going to fuck me in the parking lot of the restaurant. I told him I passed out as I came from this mysterious woman's obviously experienced touch, and when I came to, she was gone.'

'And he believed you?'

'I think so he wants me to see if she'll have a threesome with him. Greedy bastard. I felt like telling him that if he wanted a threesome, he should go make friends with the new trainer and invite him out for a drink with us.'

(Laughter echoed around the gym.)

'So what did you tell him?'

'I told him that I didn't know who she was, so you'll never guess what he said next you have to realise that at this point we were in the passionate throes of the heaviest sex we've had in months he suggested that I get you drunk sometime, and that we kind of sort slip into a little menage a trois. He said he'd always fancied you.'

'Really?'

'Yeah I hope you'll forgive me, but I couldn't resist playing with him so I told him that we'd already done that. You, me and your husband...'

'No...'

'Oh yeah. He wanted to hear all the details so I used the last erotic movie that I'd watched as a source of inspiration.'

'You are wicked.'

'I know but it was so much fun. It was exciting to play the role of the confessor, and to feel the intense response it created. I don't mean to infer that sex had become boring, but after seven years of marriage you've done just about everything two people can do to each other. This little episode added a lot of spice. Can you believe we made love all night long? We'd both come rest a little and then I'd start telling him more details and we'd both get so excited and start all over again.'

'So what did you tell him about our supposed threesome? I had better know just in case the subject ever comes up.'

'Well you remember when you had your birthday party and my husband was out of town on business I was the last guest to leave, and I'd had a little too much to drink, and I was adamant about being OK and able to drive home. Your husband quite sensibly took my car keys away from my purse and wouldn't let me drive. I slept it off in your spare bedroom. Well, I used that setting for my tall tale and I must say, I did get quite creative.

'I told my husband that I was pretty obnoxious about wanting to drive and that your husband had no choice but to physically restrain me. I'd had far too much to drink and started kicking and screaming, so he had to put his arms around me and carry me back inside your house. I was a bit of a handful so your husband had to hold me real tight. Being dressed for your birthday party I had on a short black minidress, black tights and my nicest red high heels. That part of my story was at least true. As your husband carried me back inside your house, my slight minidress rode all the way up to my waist as I struggled against his grip. I tried to kick him with my long red high heels, but he restrained my flailing legs by simply putting his big muscular hands around my thighs and hoisting me over his shoulder so that I had no leverage whatsoever. He even held my hands tight against my ass so that I couldn't punch him in the back. I uttered every possible obscenity I could at him, but it just made him laugh at me.

'As he carried me high on his shoulder he was careful to hold me tight against him by pressing my hands behind my back against my ass. As I struggled to free my hands he of course pressed them harder into my pantyhose covered bottom, getting a reel good feel of my bum in the process. The more I struggled against him, the more I found myself exciting my sex with my frustrated movements. My pussy was perfectly centered above your husband's shoulder bone, and I found that I could rub my nylon covered pussy with my full weight, aided by the pressure of your husband's full grip. As I squirmed my clitoris became majorly sensitised, sending lusty thoughts throughout my alcohol soaked brain. Once safely inside your house, your husband unceremoniously dumped me on your sofa, right next to where you were sitting, also a little bit the worse for birthday festivities.

'After bouncing up and down a few times on the plush cushions, I started to sob a little as the rudeness of my actions dawned on me. You put your arms around me and I sobbed a little on your shoulder. My minidress was still up around my waist, and my pantyhose covered bottom was in complete view of your husband as I leaned on you. You put your arm around me and tried to pull my dress down, but your hand kept slipping as it tried to grip the silky hem of my dress. As it slipped it traveled along my bottom to slightly caress my upper thigh. You asked your husband to help ease my embarrassment and pull my dress down, and as he bent to do this kindly act, I turned from your shoulder, twisting my body, and your husband's hand nestled right between my open thighs. Shocked he tried to pull away, but I clamped my legs together, holding his hand captive between my now wet black nylon covered crotch. I looked first at him at his expression of surprise, and then I looked at you and I smiled slightly, saying now quite in control even though my words were slurred slightly by the various mixtures of alcohol I'd consumed throughout the evening "I want to give you both my birthday present my real present for both of you." And with that I leant forward and kissed your husband firmly on his lips.

'You then pulled your husband over to you and kissed him likewise, consenting to our tryst. I fumbled with his belt and zipper, freeing after a few moments hesitation, his stout member, fully at attention at the prospect of running wild with two drunken females his wife and her best friend. I have to admit, I was quite envious of you having that thick of a cock to play with whenever you want.

'Holding on tight to his hefty cock, I pulled my lips to the pulsing eye at the end of his length, and I breathed heavily upon its twitching form. As you and he kissed I swallowed whole his manhood, taking your husband's cock deep inside my throat. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that he was fondling your breasts through the thin material of your sheer blouse. I reached over and added my embrace, running my hands over his, my nails feeling the hardness of your nipples against the warm softness of your tits. In response, your husband directed one of
his hand to my bosom, and I felt his dick throb under the excitement that must have wracked his brain. I tried to imagine what he was feeling here in your house he had in his hands the tits of his wife and her best friend as she gobbled down the swollen length of his erection. I visualised the scene as if it were happening in a video the kind we've watched at parties those really cheap things filmed with one camera and a lot of dubbed moans and I saw myself acting out a script as a sleazy actress in a porno movie. To be honest with you the thought drove me wild.

'Still sucking on your husband's dick, I slid my hand from your breasts down, down and up your skirt. As you kissed him, I wrestled with the elastic of your tights until I could find that lovely coarse nest of fine pubic hair, sparse at first, but rapidly growing into a dense forest, following the terrain of your heaving mound, heralding the onset of your sweet sex. Drawn to your opening as if it were a magnet and I the compass needle, I found myself penetrating the sticky folds of flesh in much the way I love to play with myself. The possibilities of our menage a trois suddenly dawned on me as I was swept away by the new sensation of playing with a woman's cunt as I fondled my own. It was no distraction to me that I had a dick in my mouth I wanted the stereo feeling of my hands on my sex and yours, feeling the delicious wetness giving itself up to the insistence of my fingers ploughing through my flesh, the way a spoon melts a path through a dish of ice cream and the whole lovely sensation replicated on my other hand as I did likewise to you.

'I can see your husband watching us intently as I suck his dick. This must be his supreme fantasy to see his wife, her head tossing from side to side in wanton abandon as her cunt is played with by another woman while that other woman administers a cock draining licking to his shaft. I see the possibilities ticking over in his brain in much the way that I had visualised my role, I assume, almost telepathically, that he is doing likewise. And so I react, guessing at what he desires, at what I would desire, taking his cock from my mouth placing it in yours. You suck ravenously at your husband's cock, devouring the truncheon with rude, slurping noises.

'I feel left out of the fun I do not want to give up on my oral talents, and so I slide my head between his legs and take his balls in my mouth, keeping my hand on your cunt on my cunt frigging the both of us as we mutually consume his dick. He fucks your face as I gnaw on his swollen sacs, rolling the objects around my mouth like ripe and juicy fruits. My tongue probes the base of his cock, feeling the ridge where his balls are joined, and in doing so our faces collide. I feel your sweating skin on my cheek, and with my hands I feel the moisture between your thighs, exactly mirroring the onset of my own desire, and I hear your husband moaning as I feel his balls pulse. We show no mercy in our attentions, despite his groans and protestations that he can stand no more. We feed like starved piranhas never satisfied until having reached the bone having stripped all flesh from the carcass of his sex we always want more. We feed off of each other, too. Your saliva dripping down the trembling tower of his cock, mingling with my sucking around his balls. I can taste the unmistakable flavour of cock on your spit, and I feel my cunt wetting at this perverted reminder of our debauched activity.

'After many such cycles of licking and sucking, biting and nibbling, moaning and pleading, I sense the spasms deep within his shaft as he empties his load into you. We don't offer him a break we continue our oral onslaught our tag team of erotic mayhem with the only goal to use our combined femininity to conquer the summit of his maleness. Your husband wants to fall on the floor his legs refusing to sustain his weight, but we hold him restrained. His load is too much for you to swallow, so you share his orgasm with me, letting the warm whiteness trickle out of your mouth, descending inevitably down the rapidly softening ridges of his once proud maleness, where I open my mouth from its tight clamp on his balls and let the nectar drip, drop by delicious drop, into my mouth.

'Partially freed from the vice like grip of my lips, your husband takes the opportunity to pull away from our lust locked coupling and collapse onto the floor in a crumpled heap of drained desire. He groans and breaths heavily, clutching at his genitals in shocked disbelief and wonderfully satiated relief. You and I face each other the remnants of our efforts adorning our faces like some decoration a badge of courage the victor's spoils. Impulsively, linked by some strangely female bond a sisterhood of understanding, we kiss passionately, our tongues describing complex patterns of slipping and sliding chaotic motions within us it is as we do this ballet of intimacy that we know what the next act in our erotic opus must be. My hand is still between your legs as is my other between my own thighs my fingers are cramped and wrinkled from the combined passion of our flows. We simultaneously feel the need for a more comfortable environment under which to continue our explorations.

'We decide to go upstairs to your bedroom, leaving your husband to regain his composure, secure that he will join us once the inevitability of the male sex drive rises like a perpetual phoenix from the ashes of spent lust. In your bedroom we completely disrobe, freeing our bodies of the courting plumage we so elegantly wear. The clothes piled in a disheveled heap on the floor pay testament to the urgency we feel to combine the demands of our cunts. It is base and unrefined, and it knows no easy denial. We may never explore this road again. We may never want to admit that we freely undertook the odyssey but we are here, and our bodies dance to the subliminal commands of an erotic puppet master. "I've always wondered what it would be like to make love to a woman we know our own bodies so well and yet as I explore your intimate details I discover a newness about such familiar territory that baffles my senses. I want to wallow inside of you to feel you as you feel me." You speak softly to me as our hands explore each other's curves and valleys. I can't think of anything to say other than "happy birthday." We laugh at our fumblings, and as if directed by feelings as ancient as the stars themselves, we rotate about our centers to feast upon each other's dripping orifices.

'For hours it seems we talk with our tongues, doing the things we usually do to each other with our own fingers. I am so overwhelmed with the feelings that roll through me that I honestly don't know whether I've come, or whether I have been enjoying the luxury of a never ending orgasm. Every nerve ending tingles with the hidden lust of a woman's private dreams happy, contented and incapable of stopping for rest, as each lick, each kiss, each probing tongue seems to nurture, not drain the giver and the receiver alike.

'Out of the corner of my eye, under the sweating arch of your creamy thigh, I catch sight of your husband, standing in the doorway of the bedroom, intently watching our female love making. He is consumed by the intensity with which we attend to our desires, and his sex is revived, angry and erect it peers at us like a predator eyeing its prey preparing to strike when we are at our most vulnerable. He walks over to the bed and sits down, awaiting our invitation. We welcome his presence and readily invite his maleness to join our celebration of flesh. For hours we experiment with every conceivable position that the versatile combinations of a cock, two cunts, four breasts and three bottoms allow. We greet the morning sun with a slumber of sexual excess asleep with our dreams now continuing where our bodies had left off.'

'That's amazing you just made all that up?'

'Well yeah I borrowed a little from this movie, from that book, but the reason that I know it so well is that my husband had me write it down for him so that when he travels he has something to read while he rubs off. It saves him having to buy a men's magazine.'

'So would you ever do anything like that?'

'Are you kidding? Care for a steam?'

'Well I am a little hot.'

'I'll say.'

Denise paused the tape as the two women's laughter echoed through the gym.

'Do you want to hear more?'

Peter appeared a little flustered.

'Perhaps we should save it for another time? I think you've proved your point. And I'm afraid I shall do my self an injury to listen to any more erotica.'

'OK but just so you know, the next portion was recorded in the weight room. It involved two men talking. I think they were stockbrokers but I wasn't sure. I overheard them talking about their mutual fantasy of fucking the aerobics instructor and how they'd never gotten lucky at the gym. Shall we say I used my considerable experience to change their run of bad fortune.'

'Perhaps you will be so kind as to let me listen to the tape as a bedtime story?'

'Indeed but don't expect to get much sleep. It lasts two hours and is quite action packed.'

'Ah, Denise, I bow to your superior sexual knowledge, capability and prowess. I shall forever stick to my expertise of computers and programming the beasts. You've convinced me that although there may be a few cosmetic differences between the fantasising of a man and a woman, that women's fantasies can be as devious, as perverted and as caring as any man's. I admit defeat and submit to your punishment.'

'How gallant of you but the specific administering of your reward will take a few weeks. In the mean time I suggest we get down to the business of planning the fantasy for CyberSex. I think we have sufficient material, don't you?'

Peter looked at the tape recorder, at Denise and at the file cabinets. Slowly he nodded. It was going to be a long hard night.

home - news - books -Contact - Hustler - magazines - flicks - sex - shoes - clothes - hair - goodtime - your wall - one step beyond

music - personal stuff - biking - rants - cricket - rocket science - devil worship - email stan at stan@stankent.com