       "BillyG and Martina" copyright (c) 1997 by BillyG - All
       rights reserved.



                        BILLYG AND MARTINA



                On the south side of my bedroom, there's a large
       window box, easily big enough for two friendly people to
       sleep or to play.  The blinds allowed thin strips of late
       afternoon sun to lace across Martina's nude body as I traced
       feather-soft, random lines across the swell of her breasts,
       almost, but not quite touching the sensitive nipples.

                "Oh, you tease, you," she murmured in slight protest,
       pushing her breast at my retreating finger tip.

                "You ever read anything by Nancy Friday?" I asked,
       cupping the swell of her tit at her side.

                "Yes...but sometime back.  Wasn't she the one who
       wrote about women's fantasies?"  Not to be denied long, she
       reached for and tweaked her own nipple, pulling it up and
       rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.

                "The same," I replied.  "Did you read the story -- or
       was it a recount of a fantasy? -- about the woman, a mother
       as I recall, who was wearing a long white dress and who went
       walking with her son one day?"

                Now pulling on both her nipples, Martina complained,
       "What're we doing?  Are we making love, or are we having a
       literary discussion?"

                "Both actually.  Stay with me a moment and you may
       see where this is going."  Then pausing, I ran a light touch
       from her throat down between her breasts, across  her
       abdomen and just touched the ends of her public hairs with
       the flat of my hand.  "As I recall, this woman was walking
       in front of her son in the country, up a trail perhaps . .
       ."

                "Oh, God, that tickles!" Martina interrupted,
       scrubbing her public bush with her finger nails until I
       grabbed her wrist, holding her gently but firmly.

                "No, babes.  Not yet.  I know you're hungry, but let
       me set the pace.  Surrender to this, won't you?"

                Her eyes blazed for a moment and then she gave a
       little smile and said, "Well...okay...but I'm wet NOW."

                "Just let go.  Surrender to the experience and you'll
       be delighted."  I continued, "As this woman in the long
       white summer dress was walking with her son, she became
       aware that she had to urinate."

                With a huge smile, Martina squealed, "Oh goody, it's
       one of THOSE stories!"

                Laughing, I said, "Of course.  What'd you expect from
       someone like me.  But listen up, you squirmy thing."

                "Okay, okay.  But first, won't you touch me just a
       little lower?"

                "You mean...down there?" I asked with an astonished
       gasp. "You mean...your...your pussy?"

                "Yes, Billy!  My pussy.  My cunt!  You've hardly
       started this dumb story and I'm leaking and I'm itchy and I
       need something INSIDE me."

                She attempted to push the hand I was holding into her
       crotch as she lifted her hips to meet herself, but I pulled
       her away, saying, "The woman HAD to pee.  She was desperate
       and at the same time, it felt good, but her son was there.
       What should she do, do you suppose?"

                Martina laughed and struggled again, trying to free
       her hand, and said, "Well, she should take a god damn *pee*,
       for cripes' sake."

                "Right in front of her son?"  I asked, shocked, still
       holding her wrist but lowering my head that I might touch
       her nipple with the tip of my tongue.

                "Of course.  Oh, shit...I don't know.  How old's her
       son anyway?" And then, "Do that again, Billy!"

                "Say  'please.'  He's, oh...fifteen, sixteen.  Old
       enough to by horny.  Do what again?"

                "Lick my nipple.  PLEASE.  Lick my nipple, please."
       And then, remembering the story, she asked, puzzled, "Horny?
       What kinda story is this, anyway?  A mother and a son?  And
       she has to pee?  Is this an incest  watersports story.  You
       some kinda *pervert*?"  Martina licked her lips and rolled
       her eyes, indicating how shocked and morally outraged she
       was.

                Lightly licking one, and then the other nipple, I
       continued, "So she just out and announces to her son --
       without looking at him -- that she has to pee."

                "Oh, racy, racy."

                "Shut up and listen, woman.  I may have to spank you
       at this rate," I threatened in my best oil-can Harry voice.
       "The son had been walking behind her for a reason.  From
       time to time the afternoon sun shown through her dress,
       outlining her long legs."

                With a big-eyes look of surprise, Martina asked,
       "You *sure* Nancy Friday wrote this?"

                "Kinda.  I may be buffing it up a bit, but who
                cares?"

                "Not me, big boy.  Buff away.  So, what'd she do?
       Piss in her pants?"

                "No, my little pants wetter.  What she really wants
       to do is show her butt to her son.  You see, they have the
       hots for each other and neither knows it.  This is her way
       of letting him see her, get it?"

                Pushing her breasts at my mouth again, she shook her
       head and said, "Um...I don't think so.  Sounds too
       complicated for me."

                "I'll go slow.  Watch my lips."

                "I'll watch  em, if they're wrapped around my
       nipples, or better yet, on my clitty."

                Talking slowly, I continued in my very best story
       voice, "So, she picked up her long dress and, holding it
       above her waist, she pulled her panties down with the other
       hand . . ."

                "Facing him or away from him?"

                "Which way do you want?" I asked.

                "It'd be better if she faced him," she offered.
       "That way, she could watch him watching her.  You know, make
       eye contact as she's taking a pee.  Sounds hotter that way."

                "Okay, got it," I said, again licking her nipples.
       "So, facing her son, watching him looking at her and pushing
       her panties down, she stands there a moment, her black
       public hair in bold contrast to her pale skin and the white
       dress."

                "Uh, 'scuse me again.  The white dress *mean*
       anything?  I mean, like she's no virgin."  Martina, who
       normally spoke very correctly, could 'act dumb' when she
       wanted to pretend.

                "Sure it means *something*.  How about the purity of
       their relationship...or something like that?  At least up to
       this point."

                "Yeah.  I can tell the way *this* story is going that
       purity isn't going to play a major role for long!"

                "Hopeless," I muttered, feigning turning her over for
       a spanking. "This is gonna hurt me more than . . ."

                "I give.  I give.  Sorry, boss.  I'll be good.
       Honest. Don't beat me, again!"

                With a dubious tone, I relented, "Well-l-l-l.  Just
                this once."

                In a fake breathless voice, she interrupted again,
       "Oh, please go on, sir.  Do tell me.  I've just GOT to
       know." And then in a little girl voice, " Did the mommy in
       the white dress show her pussy to the jerky little boy?"

                Nodding,  "Just that.  Looking at him, she slowly
       squatted and with legs spread, her cunt completely exposed,
       she began to pee. looking her son in the eye."  Then I
       added,  "By the way, I should tell you that this wasn't a
       tinkle.  This wasn't a *little* pee.  This was a real
       gusher, a torrent!"

                Martina gushed, "Oh, isn't Nancy Friday a
       *wonderfully* gifted writer.  This is so poetic, isn't it?
       And I just LOVE how you tell a bedtime story!"

                I moved down and glanced at the junction of her
       thighs, at her swollen and wet cunt lips.  Sniffing her
       musky scent, I observed, "If it weren't for the soggy
       condition of your cunt, I might think you were funnin' me."

                "And then what happened?  Did they DO it?" she asked,
       slowly rolling her hips and again making a half-hearted
       reach to touch her self.

                "No, not then.  This is a SLOW build up."

                "Slow is an understatement.  You give new meaning to
       the term "slow."  Don't you know about cruelty to frustrated
       and terminally horny chicks'?"

             Responding to Martina's needs for ministrations, I
       gently stroked and squeezed her soft mounds.  Her nipples
       erected, hardening and extending out in little points from
       the dark circles surrounding them. She whispered,   "Oh,
       Billy, I love that.  My boobs are so sensitive. That's.
       sooo...gooood."

                    I knew that if my hands felt that good on her
       breasts, my mouth and tongue would feel even better.  I
       moved my mouth to her right breast and stroked my tongue
       across its top. Martina jerked in reaction to the contact,
       and then pulled herself even further back.  With her hands
       wrapped around the back of  my neck, she leaned back and
       thrust her breasts up to me, inviting me to give them oral
       caresses.

               "Yes, Billy, suck on them.  Oh, God, Billy, I've
       longed so much for a boy to suck on my nipples.  Suck them.
       Please, Billy, suck them...suck them hard."

             As I took a nipple into my mouth, she muttered,  "Yes!
       Yes, yes, yes.  Like that.  Oh, God, yes.  Suck on
       them...suck them...suck like a baby."

                    Seeing the pleasure I was giving Martina, I
       doubled my efforts, taking the whole center of her breast
       into my mouth and sucking on it.  As I did so, I stroked my
       tongue in circles around her nipple, moving it across the
       pebbly-texture of her areola.  I pulled my mouth away from
       her breast until just the hard extension of her nipple was
       still between my lips and nibbled on it, biting with just
       the gentlest of nips with my teeth.

                    Martina whispered, almost a hiss, "Yeesssssss,
       like that. Just...like...that."

             Then, altering the pace and the sensations, I told her,
       "Just turn over, little girl"

                "Oh-oh.  You going to spank me, daddy?"

                "Trust me.  Just turn over."

                As Martina softly grunted, turning over and laying on
       her belly, she asked, "Why do I have to turn over to hear a
       story about a broad pissing in the woods so her wimpy son
       can watch?"

                "You ask too many questions.  God, it's tough to tell
       a story around this place," I complained as I slipped my
       hand between her thighs just below her pussy lips, barely
       touching her pubic hair.

                Pushing her ass up, Martina sighed, "You're right.  I
       surrender. Then what'd they do...the mom and her horny son?"

                "Maybe he was more hot for her buns than watching her
       take a leak.  What do *you* think?"

                "Well, screw *him*.  I know what *my* buns want."

                Running a finger from the perineum, through the crack
       of her ass, just grazing her anus, I asked, "This?"

                "That feels nice."  Then, in a tentative voice, she
       added, "But I'm a little afraid."

                "Afraid of what?" I asked, very slowly tracing a
       light touch around her little rose bud.  "That I'll stop?"

                "That you'll hurt me."

                "Martina, please know that it is not my intention to
       ever hurt you.  To the contrary, it *is* my intention to
       pleasure you, to please you, to drive you to the place where
       you beg for more.  Nothing, I mean absolutely nothing, will
       ever be done without your permission.  At any time, you can
       simply tell me to stop.  I assure you, I will."

                Her mind might have been apprehensive, but her body
       had a different agenda.  Again, her hips and ass pushed into
       the air, opening up pussy and ass hole to my gaze.

             Grabbing some water-based lubricant, I put a dollop on
       my forefinger and placed it right on her anus, saying, "I
       suspect you're going to enjoy this.  You're probably as anal
       erotic as I am."

                Turning her head to look back at me, she asked with
       wide eyes, "YOU'RE anal erotic?"

                "Yeah.  Ain't our bodies wonderful?"

                "Ever been butt fucked?" she asked with consummate
                tact.

                "No.  You wanna be first...get my butt cherry?"

                With a husky laugh, she admitted, "I just might!"

                I continued to trace patterns around her anus,
       dipping in occasionally to apply light pressure to her
       sphincter. "You ever get it up the butt?"

                She hesitated and then in a rush, said, "Uh...I've
       *tried* it. Wasn't bad, but wasn't good either.  I mean, I
       guess my mind's open, but it *did* hurt a little."

                As I applied soft, constant pressure with the pulp of
       my forefinger, Martina continued to push back against me.
       "Feels good, huh?" I asked her.

                She didn't answer, save pushing against my finger, as
       her sphincter slowly relaxed.

                With my other hand I continued to touch her pussy,
       caressing her lips, her womanly furrow, nearer and nearer to
       the hooded clit at the top of her flooded and swollen slit.

                She moaned, giving incoherent testimony to her
                mounting passion.

                My own train of thought was disrupted.  I'd lost
       track of the story I was telling her.  I'd lost track of any
       planned seduction.  I'd drifted up to some altered state of
       semi-awareness, keenly in touch with my erotic senses and
       Martina's responses.  I was playing her and more, I was
       playing myself.

                The tip of my finger had slipped unaware into her
       anus. I could feel the warmth and the softness.  The tone of
       her sphincter had given way to a buttery softness that
       seemed to pull  me in farther.  She was slowly rolling her
       hips, pushing up against me and with each backward push, my
       finger slipped in another millimeter or so.  Ever so slowly,
       I was entering her ass.  And both of us were loosing track
       of where we were.

                At the same time, I was, as slowly, pushing a finger
       into her cunt from the back, reaching for that area right
       behind the public bone where Grafenberg's spot resided in
       many women.  I wanted to touch her G-spot from within as I
       rolled her hard clitty from without.

                She'd pulled her elbows under her body and was using
       her arms to help grind her pelvis against my fingers.  Her
       head was down, her face partially covered by her hair, her
       moans muffled, yet clearly, her moans were the voice of
       pleasure.

             "Yes, yes, yes," she breathed into the pillow.

                Now I had both fingers in her.  One in her pussy and
       the other buried in her rectum, as deep as I could push.
       We'd developed a rhythm. As I pulled a finger partially out
       of her ass, I'd push the other finger deeper into her cunt,
       reaching and touching the G-spot.  Then, alternating, I'd
       slowly pull out of her pussy and simultaneously penetrate
       deeper into her ass guts.

                As she softened, I slipped a second finger into her
       buttery ass. Her only response was a stronger moan of
       pleasure.

                "Oh, God.  Oh, God," she murmured, pushing against
       me.  "Oh, God, that's good.  That's so good.  I can't
       believe it.  It's incredible. Yes-s-s-s! Do me, do me."

                I moved directly behind her, between her legs, and
       leaning forward, asked, "Martina, I want to slip my hard
       cock into your ass, baby.  Do you want to try?"

                "Oh, shit!  I can't believe this.  I can't believe
       that I DO want you to.  Yes.  Yes, do try.  But, please,
       slowly.   Don't hurt me."

                "Here's the deal, babes.  I'm going to put the head
       of my cock on your anus.  I'll hold still.  You back onto it
       You'll be the one who determines what happens.  Okay?"

                "Oh, you prick.  You're gonna make ME do it, aren't
       you?  You're gonna make me fuck myself onto to you, you
       clever fucker!"

                "Yep, that's the deal."  I poured a generous portion
       of "Probe" lubricating oil over my hard on and then slowly
       pulling my two fingers out of her butt I positioned the head
       of my turgid cock against her open ass hole and said, "It's
       up to you, girl.  Want it?"

                Martina didn't answer right away, save to slowly push
       back against my cock.  The head slipped in side of her with
       ease.

                Looking down, I could see the round spheres of her
       ass cheeks below me as I held her waist with my hands.  I
       could see intimately well what she could not, my hard cock
       slowly slipping into her ass.

                "It's going in, Martina.  I can see it.  My cock's
       slipping into your ass, girl.  Feel it?  Feel it inside you,
       Martina?  In a second you're gonna have it all!"

                I could barely hear her chant, "Fuck me.  Fuck me.
       Fuck me.  In my ass.  Oh, God.  Yes, fuck me."

                I didn't move for a few moments, again waiting for
       her to *want* more.  "Let me know when I can move, girl.  I
       want to fuck into you.  I NEED to fuck you.  I need it so
       badly.  Tell me.  Are you ready?"

                "Yes-s-s-s," she hissed.  "Christ, yes!  Move.  In
                and out."

                      I slowly pulled back, watching her anus clutch
       my cock until I could see the ridge of the cock's head, just
       inside the stretched skin of her now relaxed sphincter.
       Then, as slowly, I pushed in.  All the way.  Then I pushed a
       little more, holding her hips at her waist.  Slow and
       controlled.  Slowly in and then slowly out, almost all the
       way out, then back in.

                "Faster, Billy.  Do it faster.  Do it harder.  Pound
       me!  I want you to go fast and deep.  I want you.  In me.
       Deeper. Oh, God, it's so good."

                "Martina, I'm fucking you, girl.  I'm fucking you in
       your ass, right in your little shitter.  Deep in your ass
       guts. I'm inside you and I can feel your heat and the
       tightness of your ass around the shaft of my cock.  Feel me,
       girl?  Feel me in your tight butt, in your most private
       place?

                I'd ceased to think.  My mind was running on with the
       most erotic and delicious imagery.  That, in turn, was
       driving my words.  Aroused beyond belief, I was carried
       along by the intensity of passion. Powerless.  I couldn't
       stop if I wanted to.  The momentum gained was taking me over
       the top.

                "I'm loosing it, girl.  I'm gonna cum soon."

                "Yes, me too!  Cum in me, Billy.  Cum in my ass.  I'm
       right with you.  Let me feel your hot cum in my butt!"

                We rushed right past the point of no return.  I
       prided myself on some ability to control my orgasms, but
       this one was a runaway train and there wasn't a prayer of
       controlling anything.  I held on to her hips and just jerked
       and quivered as I groaned, "I'm cum-m-m-ming, babes . . . I
       coming...now!"

                She screamed and went rigid, shuddering under me as
       my cock jetted into her bowels.

                Then I lost all awareness.

                Some unknown time later, I heard a voice, "Oh, God! I
       just can't believe what happened.  I lost all track.  I
       didn't know where I ended and you began."

                "I lost myself.  God, it was wonderful."

                "What happened?  To us?  To me?"


                                END

