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From: "David Altaire" <david_altaire@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Sarah 2/? {David Altaire} (MF, MMF, exhib, rom, slutgf)
Date: Mon, 28 Jul 2003 20:10:08 -0400
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A bit more about this story. You'll still be able to (hopefully) enjoy
Sarah Pt.2 without having read the first part, but it is not meant as
a stand alone tale. Sarah Pt.1 can be found in the ASSM archive,
so I would recommend taking the time to search it out, particularly
if you do like what you read here. This is, of course, entirely
fictional--Sarah and Josh do not exist, except in my own head
(which they time-share with many other people, several furry
animals, and a cheddar cheese log).
And of course, we have to take care of the standard disclaimers.
This is story depicting various sexual acts between consenting
adults. If you are not of the legal age to read such accounts
in your region, then make sure that nobody is watching before
you scroll down. If you cannot legally read sexually explicit tales
at any age in your hometown, bookmark this document, move,
and then read on.
The character of Sarah behaves in some very unsafe manners
in this story, particularly in having unprotected sex with
strangers. Remember, this is *fantasy*--it's fine to fantasize
about porking some random person on the streets, but actually
doing so in real life is just plain stupid, especially if you don't
use any form of protection. Fictional characters don't have
to worry about HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases.
We do.
The author (that's me) hereby grants any and all readers the
right to freely download this story for their own private use,
and to maintain a stored copy in electronic or paper form for
the same. Archivists may display this work on their own sites,
provided that full access to their archived works is granted
free of charge, and this introductory message is left attached
in its entirety to the story. Under no circumstances may
this work be displayed on any site which requires persons to
pay for membership or accepts paid advertising, even if the
story is displayed in a free or "preview" portion of the website,
without the prior expressed consent of the author.
-David Altaire
Feedback/suggestions/criticism (constructive and otherwise)
are always greatly appreciated at David_Altaire@hotmail.com
_________________________________________________________________
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<1st attachment, "Sarah02.txt" begin>
In part one of my tale, I told you how I met a
wonderful, sexy woman by the name of Sarah. I told you
about the rather unusual relationship which we share,
how I came to love Sarah as much as life itself, and
shared a few of her more outrageous exploits with other
men, and with myself. As I left off, the two of us had
been dating for about three months.
During that entire time period we had been living
together in everything but name, and it was about this
time that we decided it was rather ludicrous of me to
continue paying rent on an apartment that I only
visited often enough to keep the mailbox from
overflowing. I informed the landlord that I would have
my possessions cleared out by the first of the month,
and that was that--Sarah and I were now officially
roommates.
At this point, I feel that I should explain something
to you about Sarah. Many of you may have noticed in
reading the first chapter that Sarah seems to have a
lot of free time, which has perhaps led you to wonder
what she does to earn a living. The answer is:
nothing. My dear, sweet girlfriend has never held a
job in her life, and no, she doesn't make money through
her sexual adventures, either.
You see, Sarah comes from Money, with a capital "M".
I've been quite fastiduous about not mentioning her
last name, and for good reason: most of you would
recognize it, and about the only person in the world
that she tries *not* to show her slutty side to is her
father. Her dad owns...well, let's just say that he's
been extremely successful in the business world. He's
the kind of man who could buy his own island without
having to sell the Learjet, if you know what I mean.
That does not mean that Sarah is some spoiled little
rich girl, either--she never has been. Yes, she spent
the first few years of her life in a huge mansion, and
yes, she later bounced around several exclusive
boarding schools, but she's never had the kind of
unlimited allowance and posh, party lifestyle that you
see people like the Hilton sisters enjoying.
She also never really had a family. Even as a little
girl, she would see her father perhaps two or three
times a month; the rest of the time he was simply gone,
whether to another part of the house or to the other
side of the world, she never knew. He divorced her
mother when she was 6, and the last Sarah heard about
that woman was that she was living on some beach in
California, spending most of her alimony checks on
drugs and alcohol and whatever was left on incidentals
like food and housing. That was when Sarah was 11.
Now, I know what you're thinking right now--poor
little rich girl with an addict for a mother and a
father who gave her no attention, and now she's getting
back at them by whoring around. That's where you're
wrong. Sarah simply doesn't care about it, not anymore
at any rate. Her take on life is that you make the
most of the cards you're dealt, and her hand holds an
absentee mother, an uncaring rich father, and a mind
*and* body for sin. She fucks around because she loves
fucking, and that's all there is to it. In the nearly
three years that we've been together, Sarah has spoken
to her father exactly two times: on both occasions
because some unplanned expense came up and she needed
extra money. She doesn't try to get in touch with him,
she doesn't pine away for his attention, and she makes
every effort *not* to let him see her lifestyle. It's
not that she's embarassed or doesn't want to disappoint
the man--it's simply that she's afraid if he finds out,
he'll stop sending the checks. As far as he knows or
cares, she could be living in a cardboard box and
selling her body for cheeseburgers or she could be
working in a laboratory and curing cancer, so there's
no expectations to fall short of in his eyes.
He sends her just enough money to maintain a fairly
comfortable middle class lifestyle, which is what she
does; if you really must know, it comes out to a little
less than $50,000 annually. That pays her bills and
leaves enough money to support her clothing habit, and
she doesn't have to worry about money to go out as I'm
fairly certain Sarah has never bought herself a drink
in her life. I suppose her father looks at the money
in the same way he looks at the alimony payments to his
ex-wives, if he even bothers to look at them at all.
So I was now living with Sarah in every sense of the
word, and it was great. We fucked like rabbits,
usually at least two or three times a night during the
week. She still had all the freedom she wanted to go
out and get fucked by other men, which she did quite
often--especially when we first started dating, when it
was a whole new rush for both of us. I'd always
fantasized about being with with a woman like her; a
slut, someone who loved sex and wasn't particular about
acting on her urges, nor about who knew. For Sarah,
she not only got to go out and fuck around with
whomever she wished, she also got to come home and fuck
me. More, she got to show and tell me all about her
other partners.
Sarah loves fucking, and she does get off purely on
the physical sensations that go along with a hot
session of hard sex. But what really turns her on is
flaunting her slutty lifestyle; it's the mental side of
it, of being able to tell the conservative minority
which runs our nation to take their version of morality
and stuff it. She's at her best when she's able to
shock people, either through her dress or her behavior.
Until she and I met, Sarah had been forced to settle
for trying to shock complete strangers and casual
acquaintences, which while exciting, wasn't nearly the
same as being able to shock the man that she is in love
with.
That's really what it is--Sarah tries to shock me
with the things that she does, and often succeeds. No,
not in a bad way; she would never want to upset me, and
frankly I don't think there's anything she could do
which would truly offend or hurt me, short of walking
out of my life (which I know she would never do). When
I'd come home from work to find her lounging around in
the tattered remnants of one of her dresses, dried cum
coating her nearly from head to toe, it shocked and
excited me. When we go out at night and she's wearing
some tiny little outfit that we both know will never
succeed in covering her tits and cunt, free of any
other covering as always, that shocks and excites me.
When she comes home from a night out alone and tells me
how she met some guy in a bar and fucked him standing
up outside the back door of the joint, with several
other patrons watching and cheering her on, that shocks
and excites me, too. And Sarah is always trying to up
the ante; to do something even more outrageously slutty
than anything she's done before. More often than not,
she succeeds.
It was about a month after I'd officially moved out
of my old place, or about 4 months after I met her,
when Sarah broached a new subject with me after work
one evening. The vast majority of men that my
girlfriend fucks are just random encounters--guys that
she finds in a bar, a shop, on the street, or wherever.
But she does have a few male friends that she fucks on
a semi-regular basis; not boyfriends and not lovers,
just repeat fucks. One of them is a man named Gustav.
Sarah met Gustav at one of her boarding schools, and
of course fucked him (I believe she was about 16 at
the time); since then, they've kept in touch, and they
get together for a quick fuck most times when he's in
town. Now, Gustav is more your typical rich kid--he
nominally lives in some house on the French Riviera,
hangs out with the art crowd, and throws down $10,000
the same way the rest of us would spend five bucks on
an extra value meal. Despite the name, he is not
European--he just thinks he is. Yeah, one of *those*
people.
Gustav was in town for some big art showing or
something, and Sarah had gone over to his penthouse
suite for the afternoon one day while I was at work.
She'd discussed the whole thing with me at length
beforehand, as I guess she realized that fucking random
strangers was a bit different than being with someone
else whom she'd known for years, but I was okay with
her seeing him again. I'd never asked Sarah to do or
not do anything on my account before, and I didn't plan
to on that occasion, either. When I got home from
work, Sarah was already back, lounging on the couch in
one of my old t-shirts.
We did the usual "hello, how was your day" thing, and
then she got serious on me. "Josh," she said, "I need
to ask you something."
The look on her face and the tone of her voice told
me that she wasn't going to ask me to get her a cup of
coffee. "What's up, Sarah?"
"Gustav wants to meet you." She spat it out in one
quick stream, as if afraid that she'd chicken out were
she to speak more slowly.
"Why? When?" I should explain that I've always
known about every other sexual encounter Sarah has.
She's never tried to hide anything from me, and in fact
delights in telling me every sordid detail and showing
me the physical evidence, as I delight in hearing and
seeing such things. But until now, I had never
actually met any of the other men that she fucked. I
wasn't sure how I'd feel about being introduced to
Gustav.
She pursed her lip a bit before explaining. "I told
him about you. You know, that I have a boyfriend now."
She smiled nervously. "And he wanted to know about
you and all, and so I told him some and how we're
living together and how you don't mind the way I fuck
around, and then he got it into his head that he just
*has* to meet you." She rolled her eyes; I'd later
discover for myself just how difficult it is to
dissuade Gustav from anything he sets his mind on.
"I finally said that I'd ask you, but that I wasn't
sure how you'd feel about it. You know, 'cause I did
fuck him again today." She actually looked a little
guilty about that fact, even though we'd spoken about
it previously and agreed that she should.
To make a long story slightly less lengthy, it took
some heavy discussion, but I did finally agree to take
her to meet Gustav at a restaurant the next evening.
After which I showed her just how much it didn't upset
me that she'd loaned her cunt out for his use that day.
He'd chosen a very fancy site for the dinner date,
which I suppose is what he was used to, and so I had
to break out one of my suits for the occasion. While
Sarah generally tends towards the cheap and slutty
look, she also has a nice collection of expensive and
slutty gowns which she's accumulated over the years,
and she donned a real doozy that night.
It was pale blue in color and very slinky. The
designer had apparently opted to do something a little
different in the way of cleavage, so while the neckline
actually came up to just below the neck, thin strands
wrapping around to tie the top closed behind her head,
there was a diamond-shaped cutout across the midsection
which exposed Sarah's lower cleavage, along with a bit
of the undersides of each of her braless tits. The
gown left her back completely bare, from the thin tie
under her hair down very nearly to her ass; if she
arched backwards just so, you could see a good amount
of her crack. It fell down nearly to her ankles, but
was slit all the way to her hip on the left side, where
anyone who looked could easily see the lacy tops of the
tan colored stockings that she wore underneath. And
of course, keeping with the Sarah that I know and love,
that was all that she wore underneath. On her feet
were a pair of 4 inch heels--Sarah owns heels which
vary in height from 2 to 8 inches (yes, 8, but they're
platforms, so they provide the same arching effect as a
pair of regular 5 inch heels), but 4 inches is her
usual when she doesn't plan on doing too much walking.
Gustav was waiting at the table when the matre'd
showed us in, and I found myself unimpressed. He was
about my height (a shade under 6 feet) with long black
hair and a thin build, his face initially locked into
the bored look which the very rich prefer to wear in
social settings, but changing instantly to the overdone
smile which the very rich offer to other very rich
people, in social settings. He wore a tailored suit,
in black, which probably cost more than my car.
As we talked over the meal I did feel somewhat ill at
ease, but more just from Gustav the person than from
the fact that I knew he had fucked my girlfriend that
afternoon (of course she'd done him when she went over
to inform him we'd be doing dinner). Think of every
cliche' in the book regarding wealthy people, and
Gustav fits them all. He was a bit of a boor, he
didn't know nearly as much about anything as he
apparently thought he did, and he was prone to suddenly
change topics on a dime. But he did seem well
appraised of the situation between Sarah and I, he did
pick up the check, and Sarah was rubbing her leg up and
down my shin underneath the table the whole time.
With dinner finally over I thought that we had
escaped, but Gustav insisted on having the two of us
over to his hotel for a few after dinner drinks, and
since Sarah didn't seem to want to beg out, I agreed to
go along. Sarah and I drove over in my car, and I have
no idea whatsover how Gustav got there--apparently
there's some sort of underground railroad in the city
which shuttles rich people around, out of site of the
rest of us. He was already there when Sarah showed me
the double doors to his suite, the man pulling them
open with a flourish when she knocked.
One drink became two, which then became three, and
eventually the three of us were all sitting on a large
couch in the main room, Sarah between Gustav and I.
She had kicked off her heels some time ago and had her
head nestled against my shoulder while her hand
casually ran up and down the inside of my thigh, her
feet tucked up neatly behind her and the lengthy slit
on her dress having fallen over her leg, baring it from
hip to toe, as well as half of her naked ass cheek, to
both myself and Gustav.
I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but I do
remember looking down at one point and seeing his hand
on her thigh, rubbing the bare skin above her stocking.
Sarah's hand was moving closer to my dick and her hips
were undulating slightly, as if urging him to move his
hand higher. Between the wine at dinner and the drinks
there at the penthouse, I guess that all three of us
were a bit tipsy.
I excused myself to the bathroom, out of actual need
and not anger or jealousy, but I guess that Sarah
mistook my motivations. When I opened the door to
return a minute later, she was standing right there.
"I'm sorry, Josh."
"What? Why? Huh?" They actually came out as one
word, but you try typing that.
The puzzlement on my face must have been pretty
obvious, because right that moment I saw the rarest of
sights--Sarah actually blushed! "Oh, God! You really
had to go?" It came out as sort of a whine, a hint of
laughter already creeping into her voice.
"Yeah. That *is* why most people go to the
bathroom." I couldn't help teasing her a bit, smiling
in wonder at the rosy color in her cheeks.
"I thought you were angry."
"Why would I be angry?"
She looked up at me again as if expecting that to be
a loaded question, but it wasn't. "Gustav was kind of,
you know...rubbing my leg, when we were in there."
"Oh, yeah! I saw that." Like I said, I was tipsy.
"And you're okay with that?" She left the rest of
the question hanging on the air.
I looked down into her eyes, seeing the uncertainty
and hesitation on her face, as well as the slightest
hint of an expression I'd seen far more often. "It
seems sort of crazy to get upset about that, after he's
fucked you the past two afternoons."
"Well, yeah, but...you weren't there, then." I knew
where this was going.
"You want to fuck him again tonight?" She nodded,
her motion almost meek.
I thought about it. I knew that Sarah fucked other
guys all the time, and that fact turned the both of us
on. I knew that Sarah had fucked Gustav many times,
and that didn't bother me either, not even in his
company. He already knew our situation as well; knew
that we were in love, and that I was fully aware and
approving of her lifestyle. Knew that she had told me
about the past two afternoons she'd spent with him.
"Okay." It didn't even feel like I said it, so much
as forced that feeling out of my own soul and directly
into Sarah's.
"Okay?"
I smiled, placing my hands on her shoulders. "Okay."
That incredibly sexy and devious smile reappeared on
her lips for an instant, then faded as she thought to
the next problem. "Would you want to be there, or
would you rather we went in the bedroom or something?"
"What would you prefer?"
She paused for a long moment, as if weighing the
truth vs. what she thought I might want to hear. As it
always does between us, the truth won out. "I'd like
you to be there, with us."
I'd never seen her in action before, only gotten the
recaps. Maybe part of it was the alcohol in my system
that night, but most of it was just pure love and trust
in my girlfriend. A pinch of curiousity, too, to be
sure, but I knew then as I always know with Sarah: I
can trust her. She loves me as much as I love her, and
she would never knowingly do anything to hurt me.
Knowing that, and as long as I remember it, she never
possibly *could* hurt me.
There are two roots of jealousy: mistrust, and lack
of self worth. If you don't feel good about yourself
and you don't trust your partner, you're going to be
jealous of anyone else who captures his or her
attention; it's that simple. Now, I don't pretend to
be the most self-confident guy in the world, and I'm
not. There are a lot of things about myself that I
feel could be improved upon, but there are two things
that I couldn't possibly do any better than I do now:
love Sarah, and trust in her love for me.
That second night I spent with her, after we'd laid
bare to each other our secret desires and saw that they
only served to compliment us as a couple--when I saw
that single relieved tear which squeezed past Sarah's
defenses and heard her call my name in a voice that she
reserves for me alone--I knew that she loved me. I
didn't understand why then, and sometimes it still
puzzles me exactly what makes her feel that way, but I
knew it regardless. And once I knew that, I trusted in
it. She does and says things every day which bouy that
trust anew, so that I never doubt her love even for a
second. So if I love her, and I know that she loves
me, how could I possibly be jealous of anything she
does with other people? Especially when we both know
how much those things turn us both on? The answer is
simple: I can't, and I don't.
I smiled at her, my eyes serene as they held hers.
"Let's go, then."
She visibly shuddered then. She smiled back at me,
a special smile, and her voice cracked slightly when
she spoke again. "I've wanted this for so long, Josh."
I knew what she meant. Not that she'd wanted to fuck
Gustav again, not that she'd wanted some simple
threesome in a fancy hotel suite. That she'd wanted
me there with her, wanted to share one of her
experiences with me. She told me everything that
happened, every time, but I realized then that it isn't
quite the same--that she still sometimes felt like she
was sneaking around on me, cheating behind my back,
because I wasn't there. That she wanted to be able to
look up and see my face beside her, to talk to me as
she felt a strange cock sliding in and out of her body;
to be together. I hadn't realized it until that
moment, and suddenly I felt terrible for ever denying
her that because of my own self-doubts.
I wiped a single tear from her cheek with my finger.
"What you want, I want. Always remember that."
A second tear squeezed out of her duct. "I love you,
Josh."
"I love you too, Sarah." I kissed her, not the hard,
tongue-tangling kiss of passion. A soft, tender kiss
of love. And then I held her for a long time, our
bodies swaying gently in a breeze that only we felt.
When we broke the embrace, the more typical Sarah
was back. She turned her back to me, pulling her hair
out of the way. "Untie me?", she asked.
I pulled the simple knot behind her neck open,
releasing the straps of her gown. She shook her hips
once and it fell into a crumpled pile around her
stocking feet. Sarah stepped over her dress and swayed
her way towards the living area. "You coming, baby?",
she called over her shoulder.
I followed quickly, my eyes locked onto the site of
her naked back, her bare ass swinging sexily as she
walked in front of me. Gustav turned to stare
appreciatively at her form as she reentered the room,
naked save for her tan thigh highs.
"This is okay?" As I said, Gustav isn't really
European--he was born in New Hampshire. But he thinks
he is, complete with an annoyingly overdone accent.
Sarah was used to it, though, and simply nodded,
turning her head to smile at me. "Now somebody fuck
me."
Gustav looked to me as if asking if I wanted her
first, but I simply motioned him ahead. I guess the
rich do things like this all the time, because he
didn't even pause before rapidly undressing.
Now, I have nothing against gays or bisexual men,
but I'm not one of them. That said, though, I'm only
human, and as he slipped off his socks while Sarah
knelt on the floor before him, I finally saw what
exactly my slutty girlfriend saw in the man. He isn't
John Holmes-type big, but he's definitely porn movie
big--I've since discovered (from Sarah, I didn't do the
measuring) that his cock is ten inches long and has
a diameter of close to three inches. This was the
cock that Sarah had been riding for the past two days!
My own dick had been rock hard ever since Sarah had
let her gown fall to the floor, but it never the less
seemed to lurch and grow a fraction of an inch harder
when I saw her stroke his shaft a few times and then
turn her head to me, keeping her eyes locked on mine as
she slowly bent and took his head into her mouth. She
tore her eyes away as she started bobbing, not even
my adorable little slut able to take that entire
monster down her throat on the first try. Every time
her head moved down on his pole another inch or two
would disappear between her lips, though, until finally
she stood between his legs and leaned herself forward,
burying her nose in his dark pubic patch while the
final two inches slid into her mouth.
Gustav had his eyes closed and was running his hands
through her hair, grunting and moaning at the
sensations that I knew he was getting. Sarah stayed
in that position for at least a full minute, twisting
her head around on his shaft and squeezing his balls
lightly. When she finally allowed him to slowly slide
out of her mouth, a small river of spittle ran out
across her lips, dribbling down over her chin and his
length. She sucked in breath like a deep sea diver
finally breaking the surface, her hand stroking him the
whole time, looking over at me as if to make sure I was
still there, watching. I thought I'd seen her eyes
gleam at me before, when she described something
particularly nasty that she'd done, but I realized now
that I hadn't even seen the half of it. She was in her
element now, not just telling me but *showing* me what
a cock-hungry slut she is. "Come closer," she panted
when she finally caught enough breath to do so.
It was like I had no power over my own body. Before
my mind had even understood the words, I was walking
slowly closer to where my beautiful girlfriend stood,
naked and stroking another man's cock. She smiled at
me as I approached, her chin soaked in spit. "I want
you to see what a good fucking slut I am," she purred,
immediately diving back onto Gustav's immense root.
I stood there and watched, no more than 3 feet away,
as my girl slobbered all over another man's dick like
the cock-hungry slut she is. She would alternate
between deepthroating him and sucking on the head while
swirling her tongue around it and rapidly stroking his
shaft, pausing every so often to talk to me, tell me
what a slut she is, how much she loved sucking cock.
Sarah kept this act up for at least 10 minutes while I
stared at her, my own erection straining against my
slacks.
She finally took his entire length down her throat
one more time, holding it so long that I was afraid
we'd both pass out--her from having her airway clogged
by Gustav's thick root, and me from holding my breath
while watching the spectacle. Her hips were jerking
back and forth the whole time, as if fucking the thin
air which surrounded them. When she finally broke the
seal she sucked in several deep breaths of air while
her body shook spastically.
"I want you inside me, now!", she urged Gustav,
turning and settling onto his lap as she did so. Sarah
spread her legs wide open, placing her stocking feet
on the couch cushions to either side of Gustav, and
reached down between her own thighs to grasp him.
"Here," she panted to me, "Sit down. In front of us.
So you can see this."
I dutifully obeyed, sitting on the carpet just beyond
Gustav's outstretched feet. Sarah was facing me, her
back lain across his chest with her head on his
shoulder, rubbing his cock against her shaven, dripping
snatch. When she saw that I was in position, she
lifted up on her haunches slightly, positioning herself
above him. "You ready, baby?", she asked me
breathlessly.
"Yeah." It came out almost as a croak.
With that she smiled for a second, pushed the tip of
his head into her opening, and jerked her body down
hard, screaming loudly as she buried him balls deep
inside of her. "Oh, FUCK YEAH!!"
She paused only to regain her breath and then started
bucking up and down on him, my eyes glued to the
spectacle of his thick shaft sliding in and out of her
cunt, her lips stretched wide around him. I could see
her juices all over his dick, glistening on her lips
and inner thighs. Sarah kept grunting out obscenities
to him, to me, to nobody in particular. She was loving
this, loving the fact that I was there watching her.
And as for me, I was afraid that I'd shoot off in my
pants if I so much as thought about rubbing my dick.
She told him to reach around her and pinch her
nipples, which he did. She told me to keep watching
her, asked me if I liked seeing her get fucked, and I
did. She told me that she was going to cum, and she
did. I'm not sure how many times she'd fucked him in
the previous two days, but I was impressed by his
staying power regardless--she rode him for the better
part of 30 minutes, through 3 of her own orgasms,
pausing only to switch positions every so often.
She was on her hands and knees on the couch now,
Gustav kneeling behind her and fucking her doggy style.
Sarah gestured me to the arm of the couch, near her
head. "I want to suck you, Josh. While he fucks me."
Who was I to argue? She scooted the two of them
closer to the arm as I moved quickly to comply, then
nearly ripped my zipper off in her enthusiasm. The
instant my cockhead cleared my pants it was in her
mouth, Sarah sucking greedily while her wannabe
Eurotrash lover rammed into her cunt from behind.
It was obvious that they had fucked before, because
Gustav knew just what Sarah liked--to be fucked, hard.
He held nothing back, either, slamming his massive
organ into her snatch over and over again, their skin
slapping together like thunderclaps each time he
bottomed out. The result on my end was that Sarah's
head jerked back and forth on my rod, seeming to force
me deeper into her throat than ever before. She tried
to match his rhythm but couldn't quite, which meant
that every few seconds she would be sliding my shaft
out just as he fucked in, driving me back down her
throat before she was really prepared. This set off
her normally non-existent gag reflex, and I thought I'd
died and gone to heaven every time I felt her throat
muscles ripple against my cockhead.
I tried my damndest to hold out, but I was just too
excited after the show that Sarah had put on tonight.
Combine that with the new sensations I was feeling in
her mouth and I started shooting after only a few
minutes, hard. It may well have been the biggest load
I'd shot since the first night we spent together, too,
and try as she might a large amount of it wound up
dribbling out of her mouth and down her chin. She
jerked my cock back as soon as I stopped cumming,
coughing a couple of times when it left her mouth, but
quickly allayed any fears I might have had for her
well-being.
"Oh, God! Yes!!!" She was screaming, and I could
tell that she was cumming all over his dick again.
Apparently Gustav had finally reached his limit, too,
because just as her shaking ended, he slammed home one
more time and held himself deep in her twat, groaning
out and shaking as he poured his own seed inside of
Sarah.
Gustav pulled his already-shrinking cock out of her
and Sarah just soft of collapsed on the couch, face
down. She lay there like that for several minutes,
all three of us panting deeply from the exhertion.
Then I heard her voice, soft through the cushions.
"Josh?"
"Yeah baby?"
"Come here."
I knelt down on the carpet next to her head, laying
my hand on her bare, sweaty back. "I'm right here
darling."
She bolted up suddenly, throwing her hands around the
back of my neck and holding on as if for dear life. "I
love you so much, Josh," she blurted out, and I was
suprised to see that she was crying.
I held her and rocked gently, not knowing what to say
or do. I looked over at Gustav, who seemed as much at
a loss as I was. "I must, uh, clean up," he finally
said, scurrying quickly towards the bathroom.
As soon as he was gone, I asked, "What's wrong,
Sarah?"
Her laugh was as much a shock as the initial
outburst. "Nothing's wrong, you idiot!", she cooed
into my shoulder. Sarah pulled herself off of my
shoulder, propping her head on one hand and looking
into my eyes. "You don't understand, do you?" I shook
my head.
She sighed, gathering her thoughts before speaking.
"I've had threesomes before, Josh. And foursomes,
fivesomes...hell, I fucked 10 guys at once one time."
She looked at me, and I nodded slowly.
She turned her head to look towards the hallway and
the bathroom, as if expecting Gustav to come walking
back in at any moment. "Come on, let's go out on the
patio." She took my hand and led me through the
sliding glass door, pulling it shut behind us.
The night air was cool, especially from the top floor
of a high-rise hotel, but felt good on our sweaty skin.
The patio was dark, the blinking light high above us
which warned off low-flying aircraft showering us with
dim red light every few seconds. I was amazed at the
view, noticing it for the first time--it seemed I could
see half of the city, bright lights shining as far as
the eye could see. I didn't worry that we'd be seen,
as the only nearby structures as tall as the hotel were
office buildings, dark and unoccupied at this hour.
Sarah wouldn't have worried regardless.
We sat on a padded bench, facing out over the city
lights. "I was 17 the last time I had someone I'd call
a boyfriend, Josh," she began. I could tell this was a
speech she'd thought out many times before, but
actually uttered aloud. "I didn't love him, didn't
even think I did then, but I liked him. We dated for
about 6 months, at one of my schools."
I wasn't sure where this was going. The thought that
this boy might have been Gustav fluttered through my
brain, and that set off an inexplicable jolt of
jealousy.
She read my mind. "It wasn't Gustav," she smiled,
laying her head on my shoulder and holding on to my
arm. "I did like him, though," she repeated, "and he
liked me, probably more than I did him." I know that's
sloppy wording and so did she, pausing for a second
and laughing at herself. But that's exactly what she
said--I've never forgotten this conversation.
"He liked that I was crazy. That I was a slut. I'd
do anything he wanted to, stuff that most of the other
girls wouldn't. Swallowing, anal, odd places, you
name it. Hell, you know that already, huh?" She
laughed again.
"So one time he told me that he'd like to have a
threesome with me and a friend of his, and I said I
would. Even back then I'd had group sex before, so it
wasn't a big deal to me. So his friend came over and I
fucked them both, and it was really great."
She paused, shussing me when I started to say
something. "What wasn't great was when he walked into
his buddy's dorm room the next week and found me
fucking him again. Fuck, you know me, Josh, and I
didn't think it was such a big deal--I'd fucked him
before, with my boyfriend right there with us, so what
was the big deal if I did it again, right?" I nodded.
"Well, he didn't agree. He got all pissed off,
called me every dirty name he could think of, and
stormed out of there. He told the whole school I what
I did, like I guess he thought that would ruin my
reputation or something, but I'd been there for a few
years then so they already knew what I was like. It
took me forever to figure out why he'd gotten so pissed
about it, though, and to be honest I still don't really
understand it. I mean, I understand his view, I just
don't understand why anyone would think that way. Like
it's okay for me to fuck this other guy, but only so
long as he's there, too? And even after that happens
once, I'm not allowed to do it again if I want to?
Fuck that!
"If you ask me, that's worse than what I did,
especially from his point of view. I mean, he's
thinking that sex is only okay if it's part of a
relationship, which is bullshit to begin with, but
anyway...then he's saying that it's okay to fuck
someone else, too, but only if he's there or if I get
prior permission or something. And then he's saying
that I'm supposed to like having sex with this guy as
part of the threesome, but I'm not supposed to like it
enough to want to do him again. He wants me to put out
that one time, and then act like it never happened
afterwards towards his buddy--now *that* would be
slutty behavior! The bad kind, I mean."
She sighed, reaching down to grab my hand. "That
second night after we met, when you just came over to
my apartment, I didn't think much of it at first. I
mean, I knew I liked you, and I liked fucking you, or
I would never have even let you see where I lived. But
then when you told me that you liked the way I act, and
when you were still there after I went out and fucked
that guy...I was terrified. I kept thinking that this
was going to pass, that eventually I was going to hit
some boundary that you couldn't take, and then you were
going to get pissed and I was going to feel like shit
for hurting you. Like maybe you were the opposite of
him, that you'd get off on me fucking other guys, as
long as you could pretend on some level that it didn't
really happen. As long as they were just some fantasy
guys that you didn't even know for sure really existed.
"And the whole time, I knew that eventually Gustav or
someone else like him was going to breeze into town,
and I dreaded that moment. Because I felt like maybe
that would be the thing that did it, when you saw that
there were guys besides just random ones. And when
Gustav called the other day to say he was in the city,
I felt like the whole house of cards was going to come
crashing down, and you were going to get hurt."
"Baby--"
"Hush," she told me. "Let me finish first, okay?"
She looked up at me and I nodded. "So I had to explain
Gustav to you, and I could see you thinking about it
for a little, but then I saw that you were okay with
it and I felt like that was a bullet dodged or
something. And then Gustav wanted to meet you because
I couldn't just keep my mouth shut about you." She
sensed the smirk on my face without even looking. "I
know, just don't go getting all conceited on me," she
teased.
"So I asked you about meeting him, and I could tell
you saw how nervous I was about that. And I could tell
you weren't so sure about it, but you agreed, so I set
tonight up. I was trying to be good, too, and just be
yours, but after all those drinks...at first, I
actually thought it was your hand on my leg, do you
know that?"
She looked up at me and laughed at my expression. "I
was so focused on you, I mean, and the way we were
curled up on the couch I just sort of forgot about
Gustav being here. And then when you got up to go to
the bathroom I realized he was the one with his hand
on my butt, and I thought you were angry. And..."
She stopped talking and blinked rapidly. "Fuck, two
times in one night. This has gotta be a record or
something!" She waved off my reply again and wiped at
her eye.
"Josh, I love you. You don't know how hard it was
for me to admit that at first, even to myself. I've
been so scared that eventually I was going to hurt you
and lose you, and I don't want that."
"You don't have to worry about that." I got it out
before she could stop me again.
She smiled, more tears sparkling in her eyes under
the flashing red light. "I know. I know that now.
After tonight...I feel like that was the last boundary,
you know? The last thing that could possibly have
happened that might have done it, and it's over, and
you're still here." She leaned back into my arm.
"I'm still here," I agreed, "and I still love you.
And I always will."
And then it was three times in one night, and she
didn't fight it that time. And her third cry ended
with our second coupling, right there on the patio
bench, only we didn't fuck then. I made love to my
beloved Sarah, and it was better than any nasty fuck
session we'd ever shared.
I should explain that to you, because in reading this
tale you might think that we have wild and crazy sex
every single day. We don't, not hardly. We have a lot
of sex, and yes, come to think of it, I'm fairly
certain that we've done it at least once on every
single day since we met, almost three years ago.
But it's not always wild fuck sessions, and it's not
always with my nasty little slut Sarah. As often as
not it's like it was on that patio: just two people who
truly love each other, expressing those feelings. It's
soft touches and tender caresses, rather than hard
pumping and dirty talking. It's slow and easy in the
bedroom, and not hard and fast against the kitchen
counter. It's drawing passion from each other and from
our mutual love, and not getting turned on by talking
about some other guy she's just fucked. Sarah does
fuck a lot of other guys--generally at least one new
one every week. But she only makes love to one man.
When we finally went inside we found Gustav snoring
in a most unEuropean fashion, sound asleep in his giant
bed. The alcohol had mostly bled out of our systems at
this point, but that, along with the late hour and
our intense emotional discussion, combined to leave us
far too exhausted to even contemplate driving home.
Sarah assured me that it was okay, and so we tiptoed
into the guest bedroom (yes, Gustav's hotel suite
actually had a guest bedroom, I shit you not) and fell
asleep on the more customary king size bed in there.
I woke up early the next morning, Sarah shifting
slightly but not waking when I carefully pulled myself
out of bed. I got my job straight out of college, so
at that point I had been working the same crappy job
for the same shitty company for more than 6 years.
That morning, I did something I had never once done in
that entire span--I called out, sick.
After I'd made the necessary call to the necessary
boss, I sat down on the couch, not wanting to wake
Sarah just yet. I thought a lot, about the events of
the previous evening, yes, but more about the long talk
that we had shared out on the patio. I realized then
that our relationship had passed a final boundary in
more ways than just what Sarah had mentioned. It
wasn't just that we had hurdled the final obstacle that
she saw, or that now she no longer had to feel even an
iota of guilt or nervousness about what she did or what
she might do--it was also that she had dropped her
final barrier to me.
There was nothing hidden between us anymore, nor
would there ever be again. Yes, there were small
details of our prior lives which we had not yet gotten
around to mentioning, but those only because we hadn't
had the time together, or because they were so
inconsequential as to not be *worth* mention. There
were no more deep secrets, there would be no more
hidden feelings, doubts or fears.
Maybe some of you have never been in a relationship
like that, and I hope that you eventually find it if
that's the case. Because it's the most wonderful
feeling in the world, believe me; when you finally
realize that no matter what, you have one person that
you can always talk to about absolutely anything, and
whom you know will do the same with you. It's a bond
so strong that, as corny and cliche' as it sounds, two
people become as one. And it bleeds over into the rest
of your life, too--nothing else that happens around you
feels so bad anymore, because you know that nothing
else can ever take away what you have waiting for you,
back at home. If you lose your job, if your friends
walk away from you, if someone drops a penny off the
Empire State Building and it smacks into your skull
and a paralyzes you, it's okay. You'll still have your
love, and you'll still draw happiness from it.
I was interupted from my thoughts when Gustav came
staggering into the room, trying to stretch off the
effects of last night. "Coffee?", he asked me.
I nodded and watched as he flipped on the machine,
the rich aroma of a blend that I was quite certain
appeared in no "gourmet" coffee shop penetrating the
room and making the morning a bit less of a struggle.
He handed me a cup a few minutes later, dropping down
beside me on the couch, a thick white robe draped over
his body.
"All is good with Sarah," he said, only his eyes
hinting that it could possibly be a question.
"Yeah. We're fine." I hadn't expected him to even
mention the possibility.
"I tell you this now: that I will not see her again
if that is your wish." He even looked like he meant
it.
"That's not necessary, Gustav. She's free to do
whatever she wants, with whomever she wants."
He studied me for a long moment, in the unnerving way
that only he can. He just stares at you, his face
blank, barely even blinking. "This is true," he said,
again meaning it as a question.
I struggled to find an analogy that a self-proclaimed
art "expert" might understand. "It's true," I finally
told him. "A woman like Sarah...she's like a beautiful
painting, a Picasso or a Rembrandt." He nodded.
"Changing the way that Sarah is, it would be like
buying a Picasso and burning it in your cellar, so that
nobody else could ever enjoy its beauty. But you don't
do that, because you want the rest of the world to
enjoy it, too; you'd feel badly if you deprived
everyone else of something so beautiful. I love Sarah,
and I know that she loves me, and I can't hide her
beauty from you or anyone else. I wouldn't want to,
even if I could."
He nodded slowly. "She does love you, this I know."
And I nodded in turn, and we sat there in silence for
some time, him still staring at me in his eerie manner.
"I think you are good man, Joshua," he finally told
me. That's the way that Gustav is--he'd never heard me
called Joshua, and nobody else has ever called me that
anyway, not since grade school. But he has to use a
person's full name when he speaks to them. "I think
you are good man, Joshua," he repeated, "and I think
that Sarah, she had made the right choice."
I had no idea what to say to that, unexpected as it
was. He stared at me for another minute or two as I
tried to think of something, and then finally smiled
widely. "Come," he said as he stood quickly, "let us
order food!" When Gustav let the room service
attendant in about 45 minutes later, he was greeted
with the sight of Sarah's naked body riding me with a
fury. I had watched her with Gustav last night, she'd
told me, so it was his turn to watch us. And Sarah,
being Sarah, took the waiter's presence simply as a
bonus.
For a while after I officially moved in, we had a
regular voyeur. You see, Sarah's building is an old
one--it's been renovated many times and so is quite
nice both inside and out, but it dates back to an era
before the huge apartment buildings which have since
become the norm in the city. It's 6 stories high, with
4 dwellings per floor. We live on the second floor, in
a unit on the front side of the structure.
There are similar apartments all around us, and our
street is a mere four lane roadway, two of the lanes
constantly occupied by parked cars. And directly
across the street from us, with perhaps 40 feet between
our windows, we discovered a neighbor who made
excellent use of the fact that Sarah had never even
bothered to hang curtains. He appeared to be single,
or at least we never saw evidence of a wife or family,
and Sarah really got off on fucking near the windows
(with the lights on, of course) whenever we knew that
he was likely to be home. Coupled with the fact that
she rarely bothered with clothes of any kind when she
was just sitting around the house, our voyeur probably
saw my girlfriend naked almost as often as I did.
One day I was sitting in my cubicle, silently willing
the building to explode when I went out to lunch, when
the phone rang. I answered and heard Sarah's voice,
obviously excited.
"Hi baby...I just wanted to call and tell you that
I'm being really bad right now."
Oh? If she wanted to grab my attention, it worked.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm standing in front of the living room window.
I'm naked, of course, and I'm fucking myself. Our
neighbor is watching from across the street."
"What are you using?" Sarah doesn't own any toys.
In fact, the only times she ever masturbates are as
part of sex, or when she's being watched. Whenever she
feels the need for an orgasm otherwise, she just gets
fucked.
"A coke bottle. Plastic, the kind with the curves."
She groaned as she said it.
"Damn, baby."
"Mmmmm yeah. He's standing right there in his
window, staring at me. Hang on." I heard her grunt.
"Okay, I raised my leg so he could see it going in
better."
"Jesus."
She laughed softly. "He's just wearing boxers and
a shirt. He's really hard, too--I can see it sticking
out."
"He's not the only one." Not by a long shot.
"Mmmmm. Can you do anything about that?"
I didn't have an office, just one of many cubicles on
a huge floor. Taking my cock out and stroking myself
to orgasm wasn't even an option. "Uhhh...no."
She knew why. "I figured. It's a shame, though.
I'm so fucking wet right now."
"I'd hope so--those bottles aren't that small."
A giggle. "It feels so good, though. Oh fuck, he
just took his cock out baby! He's stroking it while he
watches me fuck myself!"
"Big one?" I knew what she liked.
She paused for several loud grunts, and I could tell
she was really ramming that bottle home. "Kind
of...kind of average, I guess. It's hard to tell from
here. Fuck, he probably can't see me too well either;
I wish he had binoculars or something."
That's my slut. "He can tell what you're doing,
though."
"Yeah, he can tell." Her voice held a playful tone,
and I could picture her smiling across at him as they
masturbated together. "I can't wait to get you home
tonight, baby. I'm gonna fuck you sooooo good."
"I can't wait either." Duh!
Another soft laugh. "I feel like doing something
really wild tonight."
"Like what?"
"I don't know," she teased. "I'll think of
something. I want to fuck him, baby. Can I go over
there and fuck him now?"
She didn't need to ask, but I knew she only did it
because it sounded dirtier to beg me to let her fuck
another man. "Yeah. Do it."
I could hear her smile through the line. "I'm gonna
fuck him good, baby. Think about that while you're at
work for the rest of the day." She grunted again.
"Think about your loving slut of a girlfriend across
the street, his cock ramming into me over and over
again, fucking me so good."
I listened to her moaning as she jammed the bottle in
and out of her cunt. "I will." God, I would!
"Good," she breathed. "He's gonna be fucking me in
every hole, Josh--my mouth, my cunt, my ass. I'm
going to show him just how big a slut I can be, and
then I'm going to fuck the shit out of you as soon as
you get home."
"That sounds good, Sarah." A coworker was walking
by.
"Okay, I'm going to go fuck him now before he cums.
I love you, baby."
"I love you, too."
"Mmmmmm, bye."
I was in a daze for the rest of the day, thinking
about her walking over to that guy's apartment and
fucking him senseless all afternoon long. I knew she
was doing it, too; she'd throw on some skimpy little
dress or maybe just a short t-shirt, run across the
street to his door, and strip it off the instant he
opened it to her knocks. I had a raging hardon the
entire afternoon.
When 5 o'clock finally came, the elevator to the
parking garage seemed incredibly slow, and the traffic
seemed worse even than normal. I was panting when I
finally reached our doorstep, both from having run from
my car and from sheer excitement. When I went to put
my key into the doorknob, the door flung open suddenly
and Sarah came crashing out against me.
Naked. Not a stitch of clothing on her body, not
even shoes. She pushed me away from the door as it
swung shut behind her, forcing my back against the
stairwell railing while she tugged my jacket off of my
shoulders.
"God I want you, Josh," she panted, perching on her
bare toes to kiss me hungrily. Before I knew it, my
coat jacket was fluttering down to the ground floor
below us, Sarah's naked body pressed tightly against
me.
"Sarah! Someone's going to see us!!" It was about
5:45 PM, right in the heart of the prime time for city
residents to finally arrive back home, after a hard day
of work and a grueling commute.
She broke the kiss long enough to smile devilishly at
me. "I know. At least, I hope so." Her hands lept
to my belt, opening my slacks in a flash and diving
inside after my erection. "What's the matter, Josh?",
she teased. "Don't you want the neighbors to see what
a hot little slut you live with?"
I didn't mind that so much as the thought that one of
them might call the cops, but it's hard to argue with a
naked woman when her face is bobbing back and forth on
your cock. Remember the description of our building,
though--we lived on the 2nd of 6 floors, 4 apartments
per story. That meant that almost anyone who walked
through the entryway door below *would* end up having
to walk right past us in order to get home.
Sarah sucked me for a couple of minutes before she
got impatient and tugged me downward, my pants dropping
down to my ankles before my bare ass hit the floor
above the top step of the first flight of stairs. She
straddled my lap with cat-like agility, facing away
from me as she preferred, her eyes pointed down towards
the building's foyer while she lowered herself onto my
stiff cock.
She moaned loudly as I penetrated her, rapidly
forcing her body lower until I was buried to the balls
in her steaming cunt. But she wasn't bucking up and
down rapidly, slamming me home as was her norm; she was
just sitting there immobile, squeezing me slowly with
the muscles inside her pussy. When she finally did
start moving again it was slow, painfully slow.
"Why so slow, baby? Did that guy wear you out?"
She breathed a throaty laugh. "I have to go slow, to
make sure we don't finish before someone comes in."
Fuck, she was serious about being seen! I knew that
very moment that it wasn't a question of if one of our
neighbors would end up walking right up to us as she
rode me, naked--it was *when* it would happen. My
Sarah is such a nasty slut! That thought alone pushed
away the fears of police intervention.
I have no idea how long she kept slowly sliding up
and down my shaft. It seemed like a half an hour at
least, but in reality it was probably only about 5
minutes. Anyway, that's when I heard the main door
opening below us, and Sarah picked up her movement
slightly, moaning loudly while knowing that our
discovery was imminent, as if urging our mystery
neighbor on.
I heard the footsteps pause for a moment as he
certainly heard her moan, then nervously restart. His
face appeared at the bottom of the stairs, staring at
us in open shock as Sarah continued to ride me, staring
right back at him. She was moaning more now, uttering
little things like "it feels so good" and "fuck my wet
cunt, baby."
I'd seen this particular neighbor before, but we'd
never spoken. When you live in the city, everybody
just kind of keeps to themselves; I had exchanged
perhaps 10 words total with all of our neighbors since
I'd moved in, never more than a simple "hello" if we
chanced to meet on the stairwell. Somehow that didn't
seem like an appropriate thing to say at this point.
He slowly lifted his foot and placed it on the next
step, as if having to will his body to perform such a
simple action. He kept it up, rising one agonzing step
at a time while his eyes remained locked on my naked,
slutty girlfriend fucking me. He made it to about 4
steps below us.
"You can fuck me next, if you want." She was still
riding me, watching our watcher and making it obvious
how much she loved his presence. I had no doubt that
she meant what she said, either.
I guess that finally panicked the poor guy. He
blinked in amazement, shook his head quickly, and
darted around us, practically running up the next
flight of stairs. We heard a door close two floors
above us a moment later.
"I'm gonna cum, baby!" She yelled it, and then
started screaming as she followed through on her
pledge, her cunt muscles bearing down hard on my cock.
She was still cumming when another face appeared
below us.
"Oh, FUCK!!!" Her cry echoed off the stairwell walls
when she saw him and launched into a second orgasm.
Sarah rarely cums in rapid succession like that, and
only when she's getting off in a huge way on one of her
slutty trips. Like then.
It was a younger guy this time, perhaps 17 or 18; I
think he lived with his parents on the top floor. He
just stood there openmouthed while Sarah slammed up and
down on my rod and screamed out her orgasm. He made
no move forward nor back, rooted to the spot.
Sarah got control of herself, slowing again just as I
was almost ready to shoot inside of her. She leveled
her eyes on our young voyeur, her legs still spread
wide as my cock disappeared into her slit over and over
again. "You can come closer," she told him.
He did, slowly. He was scared, that much was
obvious. Perhaps that I was going to jump up to kick
his ass, maybe that it was some bizarre trick...I don't
know. But her command and the sheer sexuality which
Sarah exuded were too much for him to resist.
"Do you like watching me?", she breathed. "Do you
like seeing my boyfriend fuck me?" He nodded his head
slowly, licking his lips in nervousness. "Does it get
your cock hard?" Another nod, this one barely
perceptible. "Take it out," she told him.
He just stood there, both of us suprised at what she
had said, but him far more so. She repeated her
request. "Take it out. It's okay, I want to see it."
He looked around pointedly, well aware that others
could and probably would be entering and exiting the
building at any moment. I wasn't sure what Sarah was
trying to do, but the sheer audacity of her actions had
me on the edge of orgasm.
His hands finally made their way to the front of his
jeans, shaking as he slowly undid the buttons of his
fly. Sarah smiled as he did, licking her lips. "Mmmm
yeah," she breathed.
He looked around again and then seemed to mentally
shrug, quickly yanking his erection out of his pants,
the head bobbing and pulsing as it pointed towards
where we fucked. "Oh, that's nice," Sarah cooed.
"Would you like to stroke it for me? I want to see you
stroke it while you watch me fucking."
His cock wasn't that big, really--perhaps 5 inches in
length and not particularly thick. I know, I know, but
it's hard not to look, and what else was I going to do,
stare at the ceiling? At any rate, once it was out he
was much more malleable to Sarah's will, and he
hardly hesitated before his hand was stroking slowly
along his shaft.
"Come closer," she urged him again. "I want you to
do something for me."
"W-what?"
She flashed her sluttiest smile in his direction. "I
want you to jack off while you look at me. And I want
you to shoot your cum all over my face and tits."
That was all it took. In a flash he was standing
between our outstretched legs, whanking like his life
depended on it while he stared at Sarah's cunt
swallowing my shaft. Sarah leaned forward without
missing a beat, her tongue darting out to lap at a
string of precum which hung from his head, and just
like that he was spraying.
Ah, the virility of youth! He splattered her face,
her neck, her chest, her tits, her stomach. What would
have seemed a huge load for any two men came pulsing
out of the boy's cock, Sarah moaning loudly as it
rained down on her, her tongue darting out to lick some
from her lips before she launched into another loud
orgasm. When her cunt contracted on me again, that,
combined with watching my slut in action, was all it
took to launch me over the edge. I don't think I quite
rivalled the youth in quantity, but as often as Sarah
and I fucked, I was amazed at how much cum I shot into
her spasming pussy.
The kid flushed deeply as his orgasm petered off (pun
intended) and rapidly stuffed his cock back into his
pants, Sarah just leaning back against my body and
running her hands through the sperm which coated her
torso. She looked at him pointedly as she licked her
fingers clean. He stammered out a "thank you" even as
he was running up the stairs and out of sight.
"God, that was great!", Sarah enthused when she
finally raised herself up off my cock.
"You were incredible, baby."
"Mmmm, so were you. Shame more people didn't see it,
though." She laughed softly.
"We've always got our neighbor across the street," I
told her as I stood and pulled my pants up and reached
for the apartment key in the pocket.
"He's got binoculars now, too," she giggled. "I
bought him a pair after the second time he fucked me."
She started down the stairs.
"Where are you going?"
"I dropped your jacket down there," she called up to
me, the main door opening at just that instant. She
stopped on the bottom step and perched there sexily for
whomever had just walked in. I could only imagine what
they thought upon seeing her hot, naked form at the
base of the stairwell, a sheen of sweat and cum coating
her upper body while her own juices lay smeared across
her inner thighs. I wondered if any of my cum would be
leaking from her gaping, recently-fucked cunt lips yet.
"I just have to pick up his jacket," she said to the
person as if her appearance were completely normal and
she were explaining away dropped keys. Sarah strode
around the corner and out of sight, walking under the
staircase to recover my coat. I finally got to see the
mystery neighbor then, a 40-ish brunette woman in
business skirt and jacket. She clacked up the stairs
on her short heels, shaking her head in disbelief but
not entirely able to hide an amazed smile. The woman
stopped at the top of the stairwell and turned to me as
if to say something, but finally just shook her head
again and continued on her way, Sarah strolling
casually to my side a moment later.
"Let's get inside," she urged me, "I want to let that
guy test out the binoculars."
That's my Sarah.
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