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I think that most people would say that my desires are perverse or disgusting or even cruel, and that's probably why I keep it a secret. Then again, perhaps the secret is what makes it all the more arousing.
I'm not sure what it is that drives us and compels us, that defines what we each determine as pleasurable. At one time I'd have thought the irregular appetites of some individuals were revolting, lacking any understanding of what drives someone to perform acts that to me bring no satisfaction. Now, I've realized that each person is an individual in more ways than people think, and we can only try to attain that which brings pleasure to each of us.
I would have never thought that I would have this certain compulsion if I had not discovered it by accident, an accident that for most people would have been a tragedy, but for me was an awakening. I can still remember the feelings, the confusion, the anger, the shame, being washed away by arousal, by hunger, an excitement I had never felt before. My body tingles when I even think about it, when I remember that first time, more precious to me than anytime after, because nothing compares with that first discovery.
At the time, I was a pre-med student and only a few months away from being accepted into one of the finer medical schools in the country. I was a diligent student and looked at those who weren't with more than a bit of disgust. I had a keen interest in the human body and always had since I was a child. The body is an eternal puzzle. Some compare the human body to a machine, but I've never seen that. Machines are designed with a single purpose. They can be easily repaired and just as easily discarded. The human body serves many purposes and takes a skilled hand to repair that which it can't easily repair itself. Each body is different. The body is a beautiful work of art. I had long ago set myself the task to discover how it worked, but had realized that I would never completely understand how the body functions. I think nobody ever will. But I had set myself the goal of learning as much as I could, actually enjoying an appetite that could never be satiated.
Being an admirer of the human body I've always taken good care of my own. I have a large frame, 6'3" tall and around 190 to 200 pounds. I have always worked out regularly. I love to feel my own muscles flexing and contracting. I love the shape of the muscles beneath the skin. I'm by no means a narcissist. I take pride not in how I look or how attractive my physique might be to the opposite sex, but take pride in my body functioning at its optimum. As such, I've usually abstained from any chemicals that might injure my body, from cigarettes to alcohol to sugar to hard drugs. But, on occasion, I would allow myself to indulge some, as I did that night I made my discovery. I remember that night well.
I had just finished the second quarter of my senior year. Christmas break was coming and all of the students were partying in an attempt to wash away everything learned that quarter. I went to a party at the rented house of three friends, all of whom were liberal arts majors and so had much practice at partying and wasting their time.
Thomas was a friend of mine from my private school days. He had a startling wit that could only serve him well as an English major and had plans of acquiring a Ph.D. in some branch of the field that I can't remember, and eventually settling for a teaching post at some college, probably as a professor who would have the occasional liaison with one of his more well-endowed and naive female students. Until then, he studied as little as possible and used his wit to get into the pants of as many young women as he could. I had always thought he was a lecherous rascal who would only get himself into trouble, but think he saw himself more as a romantic along the lines of Byron or Joyce.
Thomas's two roommates, James and Patrick, were indistinguishable from each other, and I commonly called one by the other's name. To alleviate the confusion I just called both of them James Patrick or The Other James Patrick and they didn't seem to mind, thinking it some kind of a clever joke that they were only too happy to be a part of. They were both at college to waste some time, pretending to be independent, while flitting away their parents' money on an education they would never use.
I arrived at their house that night when the party was already in full spirits, some popular hip hop song playing loudly enough to shake the wooden boards of the deck that was covered with sweating, smiling students holding cans and bottles and paper cups, cigarette and marijuana smoke sharing equal time in the smoke clouds clinging to the ceiling over the porch. I wondered that the porch didn't collapse under the weight of so many people and wondered if they would even know if it did.
To the party that night I brought my girlfriend and eventual wife, Denise. At the time Denise was a junior and studying psychology, a field of which I was very skeptical, but accepted her astonishing intelligence enough to assume she knew more about the field than I did and so would not squander her education. She was a startling beauty that had caught the eye of many guys on campus. She had long blonde hair that hung well past her shoulders and was held in a ponytail most days as it seemed she was always going to or coming from tennis practice. Her body was athletically supple, her arms and legs long and toned. Her eyes were a breathtaking blue that seemed to captivate those who first met her and she was often accused of wearing colored contacts, but I knew that such a color could not be manufactured, but could only be natural. I always found myself alternately looking at her eyes and her lips. Her lips were full and soft, very kissable, a look that most women use injections to mimic. She was the ideal female, intelligent and strong willed. She took care of her mind and body. She was a gifted athlete and rabid intellectual. I loved to sit with her and talk. I loved to watch her body during her tennis matches. She was an exquisite performer on the tennis court, giving her body over to the stress and demands of the sport. Her muscles were finely toned, her reflexes quick and sharp. She took the same pride in her body as I did, not just as an object to be desired and admired, but also as a wonderful work of art that embodied the soul of its possessor.
In my mind, we were, and still are, a perfect pair. We complement each other in a way nobody else ever could. Neither of us have ever met anyone who could match the standards we have set for ourselves or for our partners. We had both dated some before meeting each other and had been involved in some intimate relationships, but both had kept those to a minimum and been very careful out of respect to our bodies and maintaining the self-control that many of our contemporaries seemed to lack.
That night was an unusually warm night for the time of year and so Denise was wearing a flowing skirt that went halfway down her long thighs. She wore a sweater in case it got colder that clung to her body outlining her breasts that, at a B cup, were probably too large for a female athlete. She had her hair down and curled so that it flowed past her shoulders. All together with her lightly tanned skin and striking eyes and face, she was a vision of beauty, enough to bring out the lust in any male. As we walked up the steps of the porch I noticed the eyes of most of the guys watching her. I've never been jealous or mad of that. I understand men would find her attractive and their hormones give them little choice but to look at her, it's basically involuntary. Plus, I do get a certain amount of satisfaction out of it, knowing that she's with me and wouldn't even consider being with any of the men who stare at her. Perhaps that's male chauvinist pride, but so be it.
The front door of the house opened into a huge living room that had been stuffed with couches and chairs and tables that fit like a puzzle and made it hard to even navigate the room. A stereo sat in one corner blasting out the music. A few people drunkenly tried to dance in front of it, constantly bumping into furniture and laughing each time. The walls were covered with an odd mix of posters advertising Broadway musicals and Hollywood action flicks.
Thomas was sitting on a couch across the room sandwiched between two co-eds, his arms around both, his head turning from side to side as he was either reciting some poem or dazzling them with an oratory that would astound even the soberest of females. He saw us weaving our way through the maze of his crowded living room and gave one of his few genuine grins. He placed his hands on a knee of each of the girls, pretending to push himself to his feet, excusing himself and promising to return shortly.
"Michael, good of you to come mix with the rabble. How are you this evening?" he said and grabbed my hand to shake it.
"I'm doing well Thomas. It looks like you're doing well also," I said and glanced over his shoulder at the two young women watching and waiting from the couch.
"Love is in the air. After all, this is the season of giving," he said with a wink.
He released my hand and took Denise's hand. "The beautiful Denise. We are privileged to have such a ravishing beauty under our roof," he said and held her hand to his lips. His eyes moved over her subtly.
"Thomas, flattery will get you nowhere," she said, smiling at him.
"I flatter no one. I say only what my heart tells me," he said with a wicked smile and released her hand. He laughed and grabbed my shoulder, dropping the gallant knight act. "I'm just glad you guys could make it. You study too hard and don't get out enough."
"We study just enough. I think you get out enough for all of us," I said.
"I do what I can. There are a couple of kegs on the porch, beer in the fridge, some liquor floating around somewhere, just help yourself," he said.
"Do you want anything?" I asked Denise.
"I wouldn't mind a beer," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Why not? Quarter's over, might as well celebrate."
"Ah," Thomas sighed. "A woman after my own heart. If ever there was a perfect example of the female specimen, m'lady, you would be it."
She laughed and rolled her eyes. "I think those two girls are waiting over there for you," she said.
"Ah, yes. Melanie and Lisa, two sophomore English majors who desire some tutoring from an older and more experienced senior," he said, glancing back at them. "We were just about to partake of some of the devil's weed, if you would like to join us."
I started to say no when Denise interrupted me. "Sure," she said.
"Really?" I asked.
"I've always wondered what it's like," she said, looking at me seriously.
"Okay," I said, wondering what had gotten into her that night, but deciding if she would try it, then I would as well.
"It's some of the finest weed this state has to offer," Thomas said. "Come on to The Den and I'll light it up." He walked back to the couch, apologizing to the two girls for leaving them alone for so long.
"I'll go get us a couple of beers," I told Denise.
She stretched up and kissed me quickly on the lips, tasting faintly of strawberries. "Hurry back. Don't leave me alone with him too long. I might have to belt him one."
"He's harmless," I said. "Well, at least to you. Those two girls better watch out though."
I made my way to the kegs on the porch and got at the end of the line. James Patrick was working the keg and waved me to the front. He poured me two beers as the others in line eyed me suspiciously. I thanked him before I walked away and he said he'd see me again soon. I doubted it, but he was right. He saw me soon and often.
I made my way to the back room, an odd, small room that was more a walk-in closet than a room. Thomas had brought in several oversized pillows and cushions and set them up around the room. Thomas called it his opium den or just The Den.
Thomas, the two girls, Denise, and a couple of people I recognized from other visits to the house were sitting around the room, lounging on the cushions. Thomas was sitting between the two girls, leaning over a large water bong. The bong had been painted with what Thomas said were scenes from A Midsummer's Night Dream, but looked more like an x-rated scene of rape and beastiality.
Denise was sitting between one of Thomas's girls and the wall. I gave her a beer and sat at the only empty spot against the far wall, reclining comfortably in a nest of pillows.
"I'll do the honors," Thomas said.
He flicked a lighter, placed it to the bowl, and sucked at the end of the bong. The water bubbled wildly as he sucked on it and the chamber filled with smoke and then he cleared it. As far as I knew he was the only one who could clear the chamber of that monstrous bong. He passed it to the girl to his right, who hit it, pulling barely any smoke into the chamber and cleared it.
I watched as Denise took it next, wondering if she really was going to smoke it.
"We have a first timer here. Want me to show you how to do that?" Thomas said.
"No, thanks, Thomas. I think I can figure it out," Denise said.
She sat up on her knees to lean over the bong and her skirt slipped high up on her thighs. I saw Thomas smile and I shook my head.
Denise lit the lighter and sucked on the bong hard, making the water bubble and filling the chamber with thick smoke. Then, she emptied the chamber entirely. I couldn't believe it.
"Bravo!" Thomas yelled and clapped his hands. "That's how you do it, ladies and gentlemen!"
Denise exhaled and started coughing hard. She grabbed her beer. I found out why when it was my turn with the bong and started coughing as well. I emptied my beer trying to soothe my scorched throat.
"I could use one too," Denise said, holding up her empty cup and smiling at me.
"I get the point," I said.
I stood up and made my way out of the room on wobbly legs. James Patrick didn't make me wait again and just handed me the beers, saying he'd see me again, and I agreed with him. I figured it was going to be a long night.
When I got back to The Den the bong had made it around the room again, and everyone was laughing. Thomas had his arms around the girls as one of them was hitting the bong.
"That girlfriend of yours is a smoke fiend," he said as I handed her the new beer. "I knew there was a party girl lurking underneath that straight-laced exterior."
Thomas packed the bowl again and the bong made some more rounds. By that time I was feeling lightheaded and couldn't wipe the smile from my face. It almost hurt to laugh, but I didn't care. Thomas pulled a guitar out and began playing it, making lurid versions of different songs and taking requests. I lost count of the number of times I retrieved beers, each time sitting back down on the pillows harder, until I didn't want to move for anything.
The bong circled the room several more times until I had to pass on it, my throat too dry and rough to smoke anymore. I watched Denise loosen up more and more as the night wore on, laughing louder. At one point she got up to dance and attracted plenty of attention as she moved her hips and lifted her skirt up her legs. I laughed with everyone, too high to care. She collapsed back on the pillows laughing, showing off her white thong underwear.
People came in and out of the room until it was just Denise, Thomas, one of his two girls, and me. Denise had moved beside Thomas and they were talking and laughing. The one girl was laying back on the pillows with a smile on her face and Thomas's hand high up on her thigh.
Eventually the combination of alcohol and marijuana got the better of me and I passed out, snuggled into the pillows with my head against the wall. When I woke up the house was quiet and just Thomas and Denise were in the room, lounging back on the pillows, Denise on her back and Thomas on his side looking at her as they talked.
Thomas looked over at me and laughed. "He's alive!" he yelled and jumped up. He ran over and tried to hug me. Denise was laughing hard. He held my shoulders and looked at me. "We thought you were dead. We mourned your death with another bowl."
"I am so tired," I mumbled.
"Just fooling with you," he said. "Everyone's almost gone by now. If you want you can sleep in my room. I don't mind crashing in here."
"No, that's all right," I said, trying to push myself to my feet. "I'll just sleep in the living room on a couch."
"Whatever you want, man," he said. "There's a couple people in there, but they won't bother you. They'll probably end up crashing there too."
He helped me to my feet and stood beside me as I stumbled out of the room, almost tripping over the pillows.
"You all right, Denise?" I mumbled, staring at her through weary eyes. "Do you mind if we stay here for the night?"
She was laying on the pillows on her back, a big smile on her lips, her eyes closed, her sweater pulled up so she could lay her hands on her bare stomach. "That's fine, baby," she said. "We can't go anywhere." She laughed and lounged back in the pillows.
"Okay, honey," I said.
Thomas followed me out to the living room. The lights were dim and a few people were sitting around talking, the room covered with empty cups, bottles, and cans.
"Hey guys, what's going on?" James Patrick said, slouching on one couch beside a girl who seemed to be sleeping.
"Michael is just looking for a place to crash," Thomas said.
I fell onto one of the couches and immediately closed my eyes. My body felt heavy and all I wanted to do was sleep.
"It is about that time," I heard James Patrick say as I drifted back to sleep.
I slept hard and woke up later when I felt somebody shaking me.
"Hey man, are you awake?" I heard Thomas saying.
I couldn't respond, still drifting between sleep and consciousness.
"Ah, you're out," he said and stopped shaking me.
I tried to ask him what he wanted, but the words wouldn't come out. As he walked away I opened my eyes. The room was dark, but I could see the silhouettes of people laying on the couches. The music had been turned off and the house was silent except for the snoring of the people on the couches. I lay there for a while, trying to wake up, and wondering what Thomas wanted. Later I would realize he was just trying to make sure I was soundly asleep and instead had woken me.
I ran my tongue around my dry mouth. My bladder felt full. I needed to urinate and get a drink of water. I pushed myself up to a sitting position and rubbed my eyes. My head felt heavy and I could feel a headache coming. I wanted to just go back to sleep, but forced myself awake to see what Thomas wanted and to find the bathroom.
Shakily, I pushed myself to my feet and staggered towards Thomas's room. I looked in and saw a person sleeping on his bed, one of the two girls, but he wasn't there. I started to walk to The Den on the other side of the house and stopped at the bathroom on the way. I closed the door and emptied my bladder, sighing with relief. I took a drink of water from the faucet and forgot to flush the toilet.
Feeling a bit better with an empty bladder, a wet mouth, and regaining some equilibrium I made my way to The Den. Somehow I made it back through the living room without bumping into anything and started walking down the hallway, past the closed doors of the other bedrooms. A dim light was creeping through the half-closed door to The Den.
I heard something as I approached the door and stopped for an instant, my hand extended to push the door open further. I heard a moan and what sounded like a wet kiss and bodies rustling around on the pillows.
Dread filled my body immediately. I could already see it in my head, see Denise and Thomas kissing and touching as Thomas slid into her. Anger is an emotion that grips the body immediately and without warning, an emotion that I rarely gave myself over to, but at that moment I knew that if what I thought was true than there would be no controlling it. I clenched my teeth together and walked silently towards the door, wanting to catch them at it, see them doing it, burst in on them, and make a scene.
I nudged the door open slowly and silently, peeking my head around the doorframe and saw them lying on the pillows. Denise was still laying flat on her back. Thomas was laying on his side, his body pressed against her. His hand was sliding up her shirt, pushing it up. He was leaning towards her, kissing her ear and neck. I watched him as he said her name several times, his lips at her ear, his hand slowly moving further up under her sweater.
The anger and anxiety slipped away completely to be replaced with a confusing mix of lust and excitement. I saw that Denise's eyes were closed. Her body was perfectly still except for the rising of her chest as she breathed. She was passed out. She wasn't cheating on me. She didn't know. And I was turned on by that.
I never thought that I would enjoy seeing Denise with another man. The thought of her wrapping her legs around another man and taking him inside of her angered and repulsed me, left me with a feeling like a large stone in my gut. I could never stand to see her willingly give herself to another man. I wanted to be the only one she gave herself to. But this was different. This was like seeing something new. I think that I enjoyed it so much because I got to see her during sex like I never did before, got to see her body, that beautiful body, being penetrated, but didn't have to suffer the anguish of her giving herself to another. I was a voyeur watching the woman I love being taken as I couldn't see it when I was with her.
At the time there were very few thoughts in my head. I thought that I should do something to stop it, but was so amazed, so excited, that I did nothing. Initially it was shock and curiosity, wanting to see what he would do, a voyeuristic thrill.
I watched as his hand slid under her sweater and I could see his hand was squeezing her breast. He said her name louder in her ear and shook her body, rubbing his body against her. Her head flopped back and forth, but she didn't wake.
He lifted his head from her ear and kissed her lips, kissed her hard, pushing her mouth open with his mouth. I could see his tongue plunging into her mouth and his hand clutching and squeezing her breast under her sweater. He threw a leg over her legs and began rubbing himself against her legs.
I could almost feel the arousal in the air. The hairs on my body stood on end as if an electric current writhed over my body. I gripped the doorframe and leaned forward.
He lifted his head and kissed her lips again and looked down into her eyes and said her name once again. When she didn't react, he pushed himself up on his elbow. He slid his hand out from under her sweater. He grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it up, working his hands around it, lifting it up until her bra was exposed, her sweater crumpled up over her chest. He pulled down the cups of her bra and moaned when he saw that her nipples were hard.
I bit my lip, wondering if she could feel him even in her sleep, if she was getting turned on by it or if her body just naturally reacted. I felt ashamed of myself for watching, for doing nothing, but curiosity and exhilaration kept me immobile, waiting to see what would happen next.
He leaned over her and with his hand pulling her bra down he sucked on her nipple. He slid his tongue over the nipple, tasting it and kissing it, his hand sliding over the bra to cup her breast underneath, pushing it up into his mouth. His body moved over her further as he ground his crotch into her.
He moved over her prostrate body until he was straddling her hips, hovering over her. I thought I could hear his breath. He seemed to be panting, his excitement building while he tried to remain calm. I could feel his desire to just take her, could feel that he was holding himself back, not wanting to wake her and wanting to enjoy it. I could imagine he knew this was a rare moment, to have her lying like that underneath him, her body open to him, and he was thinking what he could do with her, not actually what he could do with her, but what he could do with her body, because she was no longer a person, no longer my girlfriend, no longer the friend, tennis athlete, and student he knew, she was just that body beneath him, that sexy, firm, and beautiful body, and he wanted to relish it, but his own hormones were pushing him on, and I, knowing he was a sensualist, knew he wanted to enjoy it, but at the same time knew he was holding himself back, and I could feel his tension, as he wondered what he could do to her and how.
He slowly moved down her body, his eyes looking up at her face, his chin almost touching her, and then he placed his hands on her bare sides and lowered his lips to her stomach, that flat, tight stomach that I had kissed so many times before, licking the sweat from her belly button and feeling her stomach tighten when the touch of my tongue tickled her, her hands grabbing my hair, but she didn't move as he licked her stomach. He wrapped his hands around her sides, moving them up and down, feeling the curve of her waist and hips. He moved up her body slowly, his body shaking as he held himself over her, his hands sliding up her side and to her chest. He grabbed her arms and pushed them over her head, leaving her upper body defenseless. His tongue slid over one nipple, his breath ragged, watching her, watching her for any sign of waking, but her head was tilted to the side, facing me, her eyes closed, her breath deep and soft. Then, he pulled her breast into his mouth and began sucking it, while he massaged her other breast and moved his other hand up and down her side. His body shuddered as he tried to hold himself over her and he moved to her other breast and kissed the nipple. I could see the shimmering wetness of his saliva on her breasts, see the skin was blushed a light red. He moaned softly as he kissed around her breast, licking her nipple, plucking it between his fingers, and her nipples became hard.
He sat up, straddling her hips and looked down at her, ran his hands over her stomach and breasts, enjoying the smoothness of her skin, the warmth, the feel of her body compliant beneath him. I could see his chest shuddering as he tried to control his breathing, saw him lick his lips, like he was waiting, making a final decision, knowing he could still turn back, straighten her bra, pull her shirt down, and leave, leave her there untouched, and perhaps for a moment he saw her as the woman he was talking to earlier, flirting with her, whether she flirted back or not, enjoying just talking to her, enjoying just being around a woman, with no concrete thoughts of actual sex, maybe thinking about sitting next to me and watching her play tennis, her skirt fluttering about her thighs, her grunts as she hit the ball, thinking about her not only as the object below him, but as the woman he knew, perhaps he thought that, thought about that and thought about the consequences of not doing it, of allowing the moment to pass, the one moment he might ever have to feel himself inside of her, to feel her body beneath him, and perhaps guilt and lust mingled in his brain, conscience and desire fighting over his actions, and as I watched him I knew what I wanted him to do, I wanted him to take her, I wanted him to give in, and even whispered softly under my breath for him to do it, not wanting the moment to end, not wanting that flow of static over my skin to end, wanting the excitement to build, and I had to hold my breath as I watched him, watched him decide.
Finally he moved and I knew what he had decided. I could tell by the smile on his lips. I could tell by how he moved down her body, sliding his knees back along the pillows, watching her body move slightly back and forth on top of the pillows as he crawled backwards. I could tell by the way his eyes devoured her, anticipating, hungering, in his mind, already owning her.
He crawled back to her knees and touched her thighs, round and firm from so many hours running across the tennis court, jogging, and lifting weights. He wrapped his hands around his thighs and slid his hands up and down, his thumbs moving along her inner thighs. He pushed her skirt high up on her thighs, exposing her skimpy underwear. He looked down between her legs and licked his lips.
He moved off of her, his eyes never leaving her crotch, stood up and leaned over her. I was surprised to see him grab her under her thighs and carefully drag her towards him, taking a few steps backward as he pulled her with him, her arms stretching over her head, pulling her skirt up her thighs, until her legs rest on the floor and her body was tilted up slightly, resting on the cushions.
He grabbed her knees and spread her legs wide, bending her knees slightly, spreading her thighs far apart, her skirt pushed up high on her hips, her underwear seeming bright white against her tanned thighs and hips. She looked so helpless laid out like that, her legs spread so wide apart, her skirt bunched up about her waist, her sweater pushed up high on her chest to her neck, her bra pulled down enough to expose her nipples, her arms over her head, her head tilted to the side, her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, and the sight of her resting there so helpless, her body laid out for him, defenseless, senseless, excited me so much that I had to rub myself through my pants, feeling how hard I was, tracing my fingers along the outline of my erection. I had never seen her like this, seen her body laid out like an offering, like a sacrifice. I had always thought of her as the strong and intelligent woman she was, strong in mind and body and spirit, she softened some in bed, but could never truly surrender, she always had to maintain some control, could never give herself over to me or to her own feelings and desire, and now I saw her as softer, pliable, supple and lenient, indulgent, but it wasn't that I saw myself taking her, saw myself over her, inside of her, laid out unconscious beneath me, no, I wanted to see her taken by another, perhaps to see her final defenses broken, to see her surrender as she would never allow herself, to see her be truly taken, taken and impaled, a genuinely animal instinct.
He knelt between her legs and placed his hands on her thighs. He slid his hands up her inner thighs, spreading them further apart, as he lowered his head to her crotch. He hooked the crotch of her underwear with one finger and pulled it to the side. Then, he settled himself between her legs and began licking her, slowly at first, his eyes straining to look up her body at her face. He lowered his body down further as he became more comfortable that she would stay asleep and began sucking on her, flipping her clit with his tongue and pushing his tongue inside of her, sliding his hands under her thighs and wrapping his arms around her legs, his shoulders pushing into her inner thighs, and he licked up her pussy quickly and plunged his tongue into her and suckled at her and pressed his tongue against her and I saw her stomach jump just a bit as he flicked his tongue across her clit, and saw her legs tremble slightly as he worked his tongue up and down, sucked her clit between his lips, as his tongue darted in and out of her, and her chest began moving up and down a bit faster as his pace increased.
Then, with a final lick he moved away, pulling his arms from under her thighs. He straightened up and knelt between her legs as he opened his pants, his eyes devouring her, moving over her body, along the length of her long legs, to her wet pussy, up her stomach and to her breasts and to her face, and back down, over and over again as he quietly pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs. His erection extended out to a respectable length, and he stroked it a few times as he looked her over again, enjoying the sight of her, and I saw the look of a conqueror in his eyes, a ruler looking over his kingdom, and this is the moment that is most vivid in my mind, the moment before, when the anticipation was at its highest, the tension was dense enough that I could barely breathe, when he lorded over her as she lay out prostrate and vulnerable, and that image is the clearest in my mind, the image of him kneeling between her legs, stroking his cock to its full length, between her wide spread legs, her underwear still pulled to the side, her pussy glistening wet, her skirt wrapped around her hips, her stomach bare and flat, her breasts rising with her deep breaths, her long blonde hair spread out on the cushions, her face innocent as she slept, and I held my breath as I waited and clutched myself through my pants, anticipating and wanting.
He gently lowered himself down to her, placing one hand beside her, his weight on the pillows tilting her body to the side slightly. He dropped his hips to her hips and between her thighs, his hand grasping his cock and aiming it to her pussy. He looked down at her face and said her name once more, making sure once more, and she didn't respond, her eyelids didn't even flutter, her breathing didn't even change. Then, his fingers were spreading her apart as he pushed his hips forward and I could see his head start to penetrate and then slide up, slip over her wetness, making his body shudder, and he pulled back slightly and pushed down on his erection as he pushed forward again and pushed the head inside of her, and I thought he would find a lot of resistance, knowing how I almost had to fight to get myself inside of her. She was so tight I had to use several increasingly longer strokes to finally penetrate her completely, but was surprised as he seemed to slide in easily, half his length moving into her with little resistance, and realized how relaxed she was in this state, and how tense she was when with me, almost wanting to keep me from penetrating her, and I envied him as he easily and methodically slid in and out of her and was engorged inside of her in only a few strokes, her body so open and giving to his thrusts.
Once his hips met her hips and he was entirely inside of her, he placed both of his hands on either side of her body and held himself over her, his hips pressed to hers. I flattened my body to the wall, one hand pressed to the wall, the other grasping the doorframe tightly as I peeked around it, and began rubbing myself against the wall. I wanted to free myself, but dared not to. I wanted to be as quiet as possible to watch and not interrupt.
He began moving his cock slowly at first, sliding in and out of her, and her pussy clung to him, wrapped around him, was pushed and pulled with him, and I could hear the faint, moist static sound of their joining and knew she was wet, wet probably not only from his saliva but her own juices and I ground myself harder against the wall. As he pulled his penis back, it fell out and he easily slid it back in, she was so open to him, and he began repeating that motion, pulling himself all the way out so that I could see the head of his cock and slid it back in until his hips met hers, wanting to feel the entire length of himself moving in and out of her.
His body began trembling from the exertion of holding himself over her. He lowered himself slowly down to his elbows and she sank down a bit further as his elbows pushed down on the pillows. He spread his legs, pushing her legs wider with his knees and dug his knees into the floor to push further into her, pressing his hips against her, and settled himself on top of her, still holding his upper body over her. Her butt was barely hanging off of a cushion with her hips tilted up slightly.
He started moving his hips and I could barely see his cock moving in and out of her from between his widely spread legs, working his cock into her deep, stirring her within, his balls pressing against her butt each time he thrust into her. He twisted his hips up each time, raising her hips with him, almost like she was moving with him, urging him inside of her, and I heard him moan "Oh God" as he started moving faster to a medium pace, now sliding out of her enough to rub the underside of the head of his cock against her opening before sliding into her and twisting up inside of her. He started punctuating each deep thrust into her with a soft grunt, his lips trembling, as he looked down between their barely separated bodies, lifting his hips up to see the root of his cock as he slid out of her, watching it slide back into her, disappearing behind the mass of her neatly trimmed blonde pubic hair.
I was pressed against the wall, my hand between my body and the wall, stroking myself through my pants as I watched them. My eyes moved over her body as he fucked her, tracing the curve of her tanned thighs to the soft skin behind her knee, moving slightly as he moved on top of her, her feet wearing bright white tennis shoes and bobby socks rocking back and forth in small circles, her skirt scrunched up around her waist, the bare skin of her hips and pubic area, her hips moving up and down as his thrusts pushed her back and forth, her round buttocks on the edge of a pillow, her tight stomach and curved waist, the tender skin of her sides, her breasts with nipples erect and bra pulled down, her sweater bunched up under her arms and across her upper chest, her arms stretched loosely over her head, her long blonde hair splayed around her head, her face barely turned towards me, her lips parted, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed, and I had never been so turned on by the sight of her as I was then. I had admired and stroked every inch of her body, but seeing her like this was an excitement I had never felt before.
He settled his hips on her and began thrusting into her faster, moving her body up and down across the pillows, now pressing her hips down into the pillows instead of lifting them, pushing her butt down into the pillow against the floor. He slid his hands under her arms and grasped her shoulders, still holding himself up on his elbows, trying to pull her back against him as he pushed into her. I heard him panting and moaning with the exertion, small droplets of sweat fell to her chest and neck. He quickened his pace further as he dropped his head and started kissing her neck, his body taught above her, concentrated on thrusting into her. His feet kicked and slipped on the floor as he tried to find leverage to plunge into her further. He arched his back as he drove into her, his bare stomach pulling away from hers with that static ripping of moist flesh and smacking together again as he pulled out of her with that hollow, clinging smack. He moved faster, pushing her limp body about like a puppet, pushing her further up on the pillows as he tried to drive into her deeper and she sank further into the cushions. His head rose up and he held his body over her, watching her breasts shake back and forth, and looked down the length of their bodies.
Then he pushed himself to his knees and grabbed her thighs. He pulled her to him as he backed up until he was kneeling on the floor and her hips were resting on the pillows, and he lifted her hips, tilted them up, and started jabbing into her, no longer worrying about being soft or gentle or quiet. He looked down and watched his cock sliding in and out of her and slid his hands up her legs to rest her thighs on his arms and grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, pulling his hips back and shoving forward, fucking her like I never had, and I watched her face, looking for any sign that she might know what was happening, and saw her breathing heavily, the blush to her cheeks, a bit of sweat on her forehead, and could barely hear her low moans over the sound of skin slapping skin, his balls smacking her butt, and his panting. I slid my hand faster and faster over my trapped erection as I watched him using her body.
I heard him almost cry out, a loud whimper like he was in pain and then he fell on top of her, holding the backs of her thighs and pulling her legs under his arms, leaving her feet dangling and bumping against his butt and legs as he thrust down and into her, plunging the depths of her, and I could see how her pussy was turned up to meet him as he pulled her legs up, saw his cock engorged inside of her, the milky wetness that clung to his penis and balls and was dripping down her ass, and knew that in her sleep she was enjoying it, her body was reacting and I watched him moving in shorter and harder thrusts, until he had her butt pressed down hard, flattening the pillow to the floor, and his body started jerking, his butt and hips twitching, as he grunted with his lips pressed to her shoulder, his arms holding her thighs high up under his arms so that it looked like her legs were wrapped around his torso, and then he pushed down and into her really deep, holding himself there, and I heard her whimper once and saw her arms jerk and her feet kick up, striking against his butt and then lay still as his body shuddered, and he let out a deep breath and relaxed down on top of her.
He lay on top of her panting, moving his hips very slowly, allowing the last of his semen to spill into her. He carefully lowered her legs back to the floor, so that her thighs were spread far apart, kissed her neck, moved down to kiss her nipples, and then sat up to his knees. He looked down at her with his cock still inside of her, his hands on his hips, his chest rising with his heavy breathing, and then once satisfied with that final image of her body before him and his spent cock inside of her, he slid out of her, letting a stream of his thick, milky fluid flow from her and down her butt and to the pillows.
I watched as he stood up to pull his pants up and fasten them, still looking down at her with a satisfied grin. I looked at her pussy, stretched wider, his semen leaking out of her, her skirt pushed to her waist, and thought how she looked used, and felt my body tense as I wanted to come inside my pants. Instead I backed away slowly, watching him stand over her as he straightened his clothes and wiped the sweat from his brow, as she lay silently still, and I quietly crept back to the living room.
I lay back down on the couch and felt my heart beating hard in my chest, felt myself still turned on, excited, playing the images over in my head, until the effects of the alcohol finally took me over and I fell asleep.
When I woke in the morning, I found the living room empty of sleepers. I sat up and my stomach revolted at the sight of the James Patricks sitting on a couch, sharing a cold, stale pizza. I pushed myself to my feet, the memory of the night before still clear in my mind.
They offered me a glass of water and some Tylenol, which I took, drinking the water down greedily. They told me that Denise was in The Den, assuming I was looking for her, and I thanked them and walked back there, bring her a full glass of water and some Tylenol.
The door was pushed almost closed and I nudged it open, wondering what I would find, if I'd find her in the state I last saw her or if I'd find them sleeping together. She was alone, curled into a fetal position, her clothes looking like she had only slept in them, her skirt twisted around her thighs, her sweater pulled down and wrapped around her. I nudged her awake and she woke up with a groan, pressing her hands to her head. She sat up and I gave her the pills and water. I watched her closely, looking for any signs that she knew, but she only complained of being sore all over and feeling sticky and dirty. She took a quick shower there, just to feel better she said.
When she came out, she looked refreshed and showed no signs of even suspecting anything. Later, she only said that she must have had a great dream she couldn't remember because she was a little sticky between her thighs like she had been wet. I just laughed about it, wondering if Thomas had cleaned up the worst of it. When Thomas woke up he acted no differently. He complained of a hangover and mentioned the girl, Lisa, that was still in bed from exhaustion, making many allusions to a night of acrobatic sexual activity. Denise laughed and shook her head.
I almost couldn't believe everything would return to normal. Well, actually, everything didn't return quite to normal. Thomas no longer gave Denise the look he used to. He flirted with her like he does all women, but no longer flattered her as much, choosing other girls instead. Perhaps since he had her already he was no longer that interested. My friendship with him cooled quickly until we barely talked anymore. I'm not sure if it was jealousy on part, but I just couldn't see him as the same person.
The biggest change was in me. I had found what truly excited me, more than anything else ever had or ever would. An appetite had been awakened that I'd have to feed, one that would become a private, but very important part of my life, and would drive me to such perversions and transgressions that I would risk my marriage, my career, and my life to satisfy it.
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