Last weekend I went to a barbecue at my friend Julie’s place, and I stayed after all the other guests had left to help her clean up. I was getting ready to leave just as Julie’s 20-year-old son Vinny popped in to tell his mom he was going out and was going to stay at his friend’s place for the night. Julie asked him to take me home before he went to meet his friends. I’d walked over that afternoon, since we don’t live far apart, but since it was already dark out, and had been a long day, I was in no mood to walk all the way back. Thankfully, Vinny has always been a good boy, and he said my house was on his way, so it was no problem to take me home.
At my house, Vinny insisted on walking me right up to the door, and as we walked the short distance up the driveway, he slipped his arm around me before letting his hand slide down to grab my ass. Vinny’s an attractive guy, six-foot-two and all muscle from playing college football, and I got turned on by having this young man putting the moves on me.
I was at home alone watching a kinky movie when the doorbell rang. I was wearing a short silk robe with nothing else underneath, so normally I wouldn’t have answered the door, but I thought it was my friend Martha, who’d said she might drop by that night. Instead, I was surprised to find my old friend, Cal, on the doorstep.
I hadn’t seen Cal in years, so it took me a moment to recognize him. When I did, I was even more embarrassed by my state of undress, and I wrapped my short robe tighter around my body as I stepped aside to invite him in. I closed the door behind him and then asked him to excuse me a moment while I went to put on some clothes.
“You don’t have to bother,” he said. “I just stopped by to say hello while I was in the neighborhood. I found you in the phonebook. I can leave.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said, and I offered him a drink. He agreed, making sure that he wasn’t putting me out first, and then let me lead him to the den.
My friends find it hard to believe now, but up until a few months ago, I was a completely naïve girl. My enlightenment came this summer, when I first ate another girl’s pussy. I was working as a counselor at a summer camp in Michigan, I had just turned 18, and not only was I still a virgin, I didn’t know the first thing about sex.
One night, I was asleep in the top bunk in the female counselor’s cabin when I felt the bed start shaking and rattling. I panicked and screamed, and I was about to jump out of the bed to take cover, thinking it was an earthquake, when a head popped up from the bottom bunk and one of my roommates yelled angrily, “We were just about to come. What the hell is the matter with you?”
My husband Fred has teased me about fucking his friend Allen since we were married six years ago. We’ve purchased every magazine and book that features stories about some man’s wife fucking another man or a group of men, and the stories excite Fred more than anything else.
We often share our sexual fantasies, and one night I confessed that I often fantasized about being with a very big, muscular black man. I explained that there was just something so erotically taboo about the thought that it never failed to turn me on.
Well, Fred has this friend who works with him. His name is Allen. He’s from South Africa, and he came to the United States when he was a kid. He’s a big guy, six-foot-eight, and if not for a bad knee injury in high school, he probably would’ve been a college basketball star. He’s heavily muscled from working in the warehouse and doing lots of heavy lifting. He’s a pretty fierce-looking man, but also incredibly handsome.
I had no intention of having sex with my mom’s friend when I went to her house. I’d promised my mom I’d stop and check in on Charlotte next time I was in the area, and since I was passing through for work, I figured I should probably make mom happy.
Charlotte was a 58-year-old widow, and I was 30 at the time. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since I was in college and still lived at home, but she and my mom were close, and she’d apparently been asking about me for a while. She seemed pretty happy to see me when I stopped by, but as we sat in her living room talking, the conversation seemed to falter and die pretty quickly. Still, I didn’t want to just leave. My mom had told me how hard it had been for Charlotte after her husband died; her kids lived far away and they didn’t get home very often. So when she asked if I’d spend the night in her guestroom, I felt I should take her up on the offer. Besides, I figured that my boss would appreciate saving the money it would cost the company to put me up in a hotel for the night.