What do you do when you work with a bunch of babes, and you’re forced to compete with a guy who writes porn? I mean the guy probably isn’t even real, right? But maybe you can use his effect on those women to further your own agenda.
Editorial Comment: This story was written at a time when the pen name the author used was “Beating Off Bob”. Some of you may remember that name. For others, it will seem odd, or foreign. But that’s the name he started writing under. That name caused a lot of … sensation … among readers, which is one of several reasons why Bob changed his pen name to Lubrican. But the B.O.B. name is integral to the story, and was left in, because using his new name wouldn’t have made any sense at all. While this is a fictional story, it is also a social statement of the author’s feelings about the value of erotica, and how it may be used for positive purposes.
Author’s Note: One day I received an email notifying me that I had a fan club of sorts, made up of nine or so women who all work in the same company, and who gather at breaks to read aloud, to each other, my stories. They call themselves, it is said, “The Dirty Girls”.
Even if it’s not true, it’s a good tale, and what author could pass up a chance to write a story like that? It would give me a chance to write about myself in the process, which is hard because I’m so humble, and I could pass along some of the criticism I’ve received from dissatisfied readers.
And so, I wrote this story, and it is dedicated to … The Dirty Girls … whoever and wherever you are.
Who The Hell Is Beating Off Bob?
by Lubrican (AKA Beating Off Bob)
They were at it again.
I was walking down the hall one night and I heard giggling. I work at the Falkenville Community Hospital, on the night shift, in the receiving department.
Sounds special, doesn’t it?
But in all actuality, we get maybe three or four deliveries a night, and most of those are partial loads on common carriers, a pallet here, three or four pallets there, sometimes just a few boxes. Then, of course, we have to unpack everything and put it all away on the shelves.
Many nights it takes maybe three or four hours. The rest of the time we nap, or read, or watch TV.
Or surf the net.
My name’s Dirk, and I work with three women. It doesn’t take all of us to do the job, but the hospital got a grant to hire some people to improve efficiency. Before us there was one old guy who took in the stuff and the nurses had to come down and unpack and distribute it.
So when I heard giggling, I knew they were at it again. Julie is the oldest. She’s probably in her late thirties, divorced, no kids, and bitter about it. She had the dream marriage, with the nightmare husband who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
Jill is the intern, a college kid with glasses and short dark hair that barely goes down past her ears. She always looks so intense, like the world could come to an end any minute and she’s trying to be ready for it. She works hard at being all grown up, which is a shame cause she’s really just a kid who’s throwing away her youth.
Then there’s Linda. She’s about my age, maybe 26 or 27. She’s got a little girl and she NEVER talks about the father. All she’s ever said is “He’s not in our lives.”
Technically I’m the supervisor. But there isn’t really anything to supervise. I sign documents and take the heat if we accept the wrong stuff, or the right stuff, but in the wrong quantities – that drives accounts payable crazy. And, by mid shift we’re pretty much done, most nights.
That’s when they usually gather around the computer and the giggling starts. It was Linda who got them all started. One night I heard her call Julie over to the computer. “Jules, come here. You aren’t going to BELIEVE this!” Julie went over and there was some low voiced exchange and then quiet as Julie read something. About a minute into it she pushed Linda out of the chair and sat down, staring intently at the screen like she was reading about how they just found the fountain of youth, and were telling people where it was.
Then she leaned forward and actually moaned! Linda burst out giggling and said “See what I mean? Is that HOT, or is that HOT!”
I stood up from where I was sitting reading an old paperback copy of Heinlein’s ‘Stranger In A Strange Land’ and said “What’s up?”
Linda turned around and held up one hand in the classic “STOP” signal. “Sit back down big guy” she said. “This is female stuff. Not for you.”
I lost interest, but as I sat down I saw that Julie hadn’t even looked away from the screen even once during the whole thing. About five minutes later she rolled the chair back, stood up and said “I gotta go to the bathroom.”
For some reason that made Linda cackle with laughter and she called out “I used the left stall!”
I wouldn’t have thought anything about it, except that it happened again the next night. After we got all done Linda sat down at the computer and started clicking the mouse. Pretty soon she called out “Julie, he posted another one!” Julie almost RAN over to the computer and they stared at the screen together this time. I could see the screen and it was all just text on the screen. Then they got in an argument about how fast to scroll the screen. Both of them were gasping and making little sounds in their throats.
Jill wandered over and started reading over their shoulders. They were both so involved in their reading that they didn’t even notice her.
Until she said “Oh my GOSH! What in the WORLD are you guys reading?”
Julie looked up and said “Sweetie, you’re a little young for this kind of stuff.”
Of course that was like throwing down the gauntlet to Jill, and the next thing I knew there were THREE chairs in front of the screen. Jill demanded they start over, which they did. Then it got quiet and they were all breathing heavily, staring and reading the slowly scrolling words.
I tried to read, but it was too quiet. Finally they were done. Jill said “Wow, I’ve never seen anything like that.”
Linda grinned. “His stuff is so hot I just have to … ” she glanced at me to see if I was listening. I pretended to be deep in my book. She continued in a whisper “I have to go rub off after I read it.”
Hysterical giggling and squealing, like a bunch of girls at a slumber party, broke out. Julie gasped “ME TOO! LAST NIGHT … ME TOO!”
Jill was confused. “You read that last night too?”
Linda laughed and said “Hell no, girl, he’s got maybe fifty stories posted.”
Then there was this scramble to get the three chairs back in front of the screen and Linda went to work. A new page came up and there was a muffled conference as Linda’s long-nailed finger slid down the screen, apparently down a list or something. They agreed on something and the screen changed again.
This time it took them fifteen minutes to read whatever it was they were reading. I mean it was as quiet as a tomb in there, except for these little noises they made in their throats. Then, when they were done, they all three went their separate ways and I didn’t see hide nor hair of them for another half hour.
They were all smiles and giggles when they got back together though.
The next night the same thing happened. And the night after that.
Finally I couldn’t take it any more. I just HAD to find out what was going on.
The next night I let them get started reading and stood up quietly. I drifted over behind them. At the top of the page were the words: LUCKY SISTER by BEATING OFF BOB.
It was some sort of story or something.
“Who the hell is Beating Off Bob?” I blurted out.
All three women looked up at me. Julie said, quite calmly, “I told you Dirk, this is woman stuff. You need to go over there and read, or sit quietly or something. When we’re done we’ll let you know.
She always thought that because she was older than me I should have to do whatever she said. Normally it didn’t bother me. That night I got hot under the collar.
“What the hell kind of name is that anyway?” I growled. “What’s going on?”
Linda stood up and turned around to face me. “Dirk, honey, (she flirted with me a lot) we’re kind of busy right now. Please, just go sit down and be a good boy. We’ll explain it to you later. OK?”
I suddenly realized she smelled really good. So I went and sat.
I felt like I was a pussy or something.
They read steadily for fifteen minutes, making those sounds again. Linda sat back in her chair. “I have a brother, and he’s cute and all, but I could NEVER do that with him.”
Julie’s head turned and she said “Of COURSE not you silly girl. You’re not SUPPOSED to think about HIM. You’re supposed to think about somebody else … somebody you WISH was your brother, and how you’d do it with HIM if he WAS your brother.”
Jill was breathing hard. “I don’t understand. This stuff is perverted, but it makes me feel so hot! Why would I want to think about actually DOING any of this?”
Julie sighed, the sound of a woman who is making it obvious she’s being very patient. “Look, I read his profile, and I read between the lines. He’s not saying you should go out and DO this stuff. OK, think about it like this.” She turned to Linda. “Linda, you have Cynthia. She’s your daughter and you love her, right?”
“OK, now Cynthia has a father right?”
Linda went frosty. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
Julie put her hands up. “We’re not going to talk about him. But you had something once upon a time that was so good that you had Cynthia because of it. Is that right? Or was she an accident?”
Linda bristled “NO! She wasn’t an accident. I wanted her. I love her!”
Julie had her hands up again. “Yes, we know that. And it’s that feeling that I wanted to identify, not the pain. See, in reality there is all this pain. I was madly in love with Jack and he cheated on me and ruined it all, but I remember the feeling of being in love. So the reality was shitty, but when I read this guy’s stories, everything always works out and everybody’s always happy and it just beats the SHIT out of real life.”
Jill was shaking her head. “Yes, but you can’t just dream and fantasize all day long. You can’t live a fantasy.”
Julie nodded. “Yes, that’s right. We have to deal with our lives and whatever goes on in them, but … every once in a while … this man gives us something we can dream about long enough to pretend it’s about us, with some guy we’d like to be with, but probably never will, and have some excitement that turns out … nice.”
I had been listening to all this and I couldn’t take it any more. “Come ON Julie. You can’t be serious. This guy writes about … doing your sister or something and you want to have a fantasy about THAT?”
Julie stood up and walked over to me. “Dirk, have you ever whacked off while looking at a Playboy?”
Man she knew how to put me on the defensive. “I don’t have to answer that question.” I said defensively.
“Cut the shit Dirk, you wanted into this conversation. Now, do your part. Have you ever masturbated to Playboy? Yes or No Dirk.”
I darted a look at the other two women, thoughts of a sexual harassment complaint looming over this situation. But I wanted to know where she was going with it. And they looked … interested, not mad. “OK, sure, every guy does. So what?”
“What are the chances, Dirk, that you’ll EVER get together with one of the women in that magazine?”
I laughed. “None! I know that. That’s not the point. It’s just fun thinking about it.”
Julie turned around and bowed to her two coworkers. “I rest my case.” she said.
I realized I had just bolstered her argument. I wasn’t happy about it. I decided to take another path at knocking this Bob guy down. “OK, but what kind of pervert uses a name like ‘Beating Off Bob’? I mean that’s just disgusting. Who wants that image in their mind?”
Julie came to his defense. “But don’t you see? That’s the whole point. He doesn’t WANT the reader to try to actually do any of this stuff. So he reminds you with every story, that he writes fantasies to masturbate to, but not take seriously. Who could take a guy who calls himself ‘Beating Off Bob’ seriously? It’s PERFECT!”
I wasn’t doing all that well, so I changed tacks again. “I think I need to read one of these stories.”
The girls all put their head together and eventually nodded. Julie went to the computer, pushed some buttons and pulled up a story. It was called “Uncle’s Fashion Sense”.
I started reading. It was a story about a girl about to get married who got a bunch of lingerie at a shower and tried it on for her uncle. Then he … well he did a bunch of things to her. I noticed two things. His description of the girl made me think of Tiffany Watkins, who worked up in the ER and who I had had a letch for for months. She wouldn’t give me the time of day, but I saw her in that story. The other thing I noticed was that by the time I had … er I mean Uncle Bob had put his hands all over Tiffany … er I mean Beth … I had a hardon. And it was the kind of hardon that needed attention.
I was in trouble and I knew it. Then something caught my eye. “Hah!” I crowed triumphantly. “I knew the guy was a hack.”
“What?” asked Julie, worried now.
“This guy doesn’t know ANYTHING!” I said as I adjusted my cock to where it wouldn’t be so noticeable and stood up. “He says the crotchless panties she’s wearing came from Victoria’s Secret. ANYBODY knows that Victoria’s Secret doesn’t sell crotchless panties!. That comes from Fredericks of Hollywood, and NOT Victoria’s Secret. The guy’s a fraud.”
Linda said “Dirk, what’s that in your pants? Is that a pistol in your pocket, or did maybe Beating Off Bob give you a stiffy?”
“That’s nothing!” I barked. “Maybe I was a little titillated … at first … but he ruined it with that obvious mistake. I couldn’t POSSIBLY enjoy a story that had such a glaring error in it.”
Julie had been peering at the front of my pants. She grinned. “Of course not Dirk, after all, that’s a pivotal part of the story. It’s not important what she’s wearing. It’s only important that he correctly names the store where she got it. I’ll make sure to write to him and tell him he lost a reader because of that very VERY serious mistake.”
“You can actually WRITE to this guy?” I asked.
“Sure, I’ve sent him a couple of notes telling him he made me all wet and was very naughty.”
I goggled at this woman I thought I knew, this bitter divorced woman who didn’t seem to have any fun, and who was always pissed off about something.
“But he’s a PERVERT!” I yelled. “If you write to him he’ll write back and try to get you to meet him and then he’ll probably try to rape you or something or you’ll be murdered in your sleep!”
She actually LAUGHED at me. ME!
“Dirk, honey, I’d never meet with him. He’s happily married and I have no interest in HIM. I just like his FANTASIES!”
“He’s MARRIED?” I croaked.
“Yes, and he’s old enough to be my … uncle.” There was a brief pause as she let that sink in and then three women were laughing their asses off at me.
Linda was still looking interestedly at my pants, which were still full of hard dick because, like I said, this was the kind of boner that had to be dealt with. He really did write a pretty hot story.
“Dirk?” Linda said in a sweet voice that I knew boded no good for Dirk Hoffman. “Who did you think of when he described Beth?”
Now I was under a lot of pressure here, so it’s understandable that I didn’t think too hard before I answered the question. It was, after all, a pretty innocent question, right?
“Tiffany, up in the Emergency Room.” I said. Then, as men quite often do, I realized I’d just made a terrible mistake. “But only for a second. Then I forgot all about it. I mean I saw that mistake about the underwear and it was all over.”
I’d like to say it was a nice try, but … I still had a boner, you know?
Linda was cool as a cucumber. “Well, why don’t you toddle off to the bathroom and … think about Tiff … I mean Beth a little while. Maybe that would help your … situation.”
“I have work to do” I said, with as much dignity as I could.
Which wasn’t much.
Half an hour later, when I thought they might have forgotten about it, I went to the bathroom. I must have shot a quart, thinking about Tiffany trying stuff on for me, her loving Uncle. After that I went to the computer to track a shipment. I just sort of accidentally looked at the browser history and saw the address they had been reading the stories on.
Even I could remember that.
I had my two days off. I own a computer. I read ten or twelve of his stories. I had to admit it. Other than the occasional spelling error, and some physical acts that were flat impossible if I remembered my biology and sex ed classes correctly, the plots he came up with, and the descriptions of the girls almost always made me think of somebody I knew and lusted after, or something from my youth that was close to what the story was about. I mean none of that stuff ever happened to me, but there were things I remembered that, if you plugged in some of his stuff here, and maybe a little bit there, you could pretend it had happened to you.
And, I am thoroughly ashamed to say, I about wore my poor peter out. And you know what? I have a sister, and three nieces, and several cousins, and I never once thought about THEM while I was abusing myself. I always seemed to be thinking about a girl or woman who, if she WAS my sister, or niece or cousin, I’d gladly commit incest with.
You know what pissed me off the most? That what Julie had said started making sense.
Well, I went back to work and I swear they all knew what I’d been doing on my days off.
Oh, they didn’t say anything outright. It was just looks. And giggles. And lines from his stories that they couldn’t know I’d read and remembered, but they said them, trying to get a rise out of me. And the trouble was … they always did.
And every night, when the work was done, they gathered around that screen and wiggled and moaned and sighed.
It got so I got a hardon and wasn’t even reading the damn stories!
Then, one night, they invited me to sit in with them.
It was a longer story, called “Family Boot Camp”.
Have you ever sat with three horny women who smell good, and are reading about pricks spurting in wet pussies, and who make these little sounds in their throats that are like what you always wished a woman would sound like while you were making love to her?
Guys I’m telling you it’s a rough situation. The only guy I feel sorrier for is the guy who takes all the pictures of all those Playboy Bunnies, but who isn’t allowed to EVER touch one, or say anything “inappropriate” or even let them know he sees their beauty, for fear they’ll get offended and take off and Hugh won’t get his dick wet because of it.
Night after night I sat there, prick poking a tent in my pants, smelling excited pussy all around me. And Fucking Beating Off Fucking Bob kept writing new fucking stories.
And I mean they were LITERALLY fucking stories.
In the mornings I usually just went home and went to bed. Then, whenever I woke up I ate something and went about whatever chores I had to do. Grocery shopping, laundry, you know the drill.
One morning I was down to my skivvies, getting ready to drop them – I sleep in the raw – and the doorbell rang. I have this sign by the bell that says “Day Sleeper. Do not ring”, so naturally I figure it’s some salesman. It pissed me off when they ignored my sign, so I went to the door, dressed in my boxers, and opened it. I hoped it was a sales WOMAN, cause I wanted to shock the shit out of her.
It was Julie.
She looked at me, eyebrows raised, and pushed past me, as if I’d just invited her in.
“Aren’t you going to close the door?” she asked, putting down her purse on the coffee table.
So I closed the door. I wasn’t really prepared for this. A lot of scenarios had gone through my mind in the past when I’d heard that bell ring. Not one of them had me opening the door to find Julie standing there. Especially not with me in my shorts.
“Uh … I’ll just go put something on.” I mumbled.
“Just sit down. I need to talk to you. Never mind the pants. I’ve seen men in their shorts before.” she ordered. Why did she always think she could just run roughshod over me?
But I sat down. It was easier that way, I guess. I tried to give her an expectant look.
She looked at me and bit her lip. She looked … nervous. “Look, Dirk …” she started.
I tried to look suave, relaxed, at ease. Sitting there in my underwear.
“Dirk, do you like me?” she asked suddenly.
Now how in the nine hells does a guy answer a question like that? I thought I was a pretty cool kind of guy, so I went for the frivolous nice answer.
“Well, you’re awfully bossy, and you act like you’re my mother half the time. You’re down on men, mostly, which I’m one of. But all things considered, if I was stuck on a desert island, I doubt I’d vote you off of it.”
While I was feeling proud of myself I saw the look come on her face and I knew I’d made a serious mistake. I finally understood her question hadn’t been frivolous at all. I saw her muscles tense, and I knew she was about to get up and walk out.
“Yes!” I blurted. “I like you.”
Her eyebrows went up again, and then, after a few more seconds, she relaxed.
“Do you think I’m … pretty?” She looked down.
Now this was an interesting question, all of a sudden. I realized that she was here on serious business, and that I needed to take her seriously. I knew she was on the cusp of hating men forever, and I thought that would be a shame, because she WAS a nice woman, with a great personality, her take-charge attitude notwithstanding. And I had the opportunity to respond to her as a friend, and maybe make her less likely to hate ALL men.
“Look Jules” I started, and she flinched. It was clear she was expecting the worst. Man, that husband of hers should be found and shot. “I’m going to answer that question, but I’m going to answer it honestly, OK? I mean I don’t want you to get pissed off, or file a sexual harassment complaint or any of that stuff. I’m just going to tell it the way I see it, OK?”
She winced when she said it, but she said “OK.”
“OK, first off, ‘pretty’ includes several things. One is your appearance. You’re in good shape, with a little meat on your bones, but you don’t look anywhere near your age. You don’t wear much makeup, but you have a good face. You’d look good in a pony tail, but you think you’re too old to wear it that way. The clothes you wear cover up your body, but it looks good … to me. You should be dating. There are lots of men out there who would love to get you in the sac…. I mean they’d love to get to know you.” I corrected myself.
She smiled. It was a little smile, but I rarely saw her smile at all.
“Now ‘pretty’ also has a personality component. You can have a brick shithouse kind of girl, but nobody can stand to be around her because everything is about her, if you know what I mean. But YOUR personality isn’t like that. You’re kind of a mother hen type, who likes to help people, and is always willing to give of herself, but doesn’t really ask all the much in return. Except you boss people around, and I really think that’s just a face you put on to keep people at a distance. But I can see through that. You’re just a nice woman Jules. And that’s attractive.
Now her smile was real, but her eyes were all glisteny, like she was getting ready to cry. She stood up. “Someone once told me that, when a man looks at a woman – any woman – there’s a part of his brain that immediately sizes her up as either being a potential mate, or NOT a potential mate. Then, depending on which of those things it is, he makes decisions about what to do about it. Is that true Dirk? Do men really do that?”
She was talking basic sociology 101. Women did the same thing, but in the woman’s case she’s checking out his genetics. Shoulders, legs, muscles, height and all that. Then that part of her brain decides whether or not she’d accept his sperm. Of course civilization has put all kinds of layers of decision making on top of all of that. Cavemen could see a woman, want her, and take her, but it isn’t that way these days. But I knew what she was talking about. I just didn’t know WHY she was talking about it.
“Sure” I said. “I do that all the time.”
I felt all the guys out there wincing as they read that last line. There’s an unwritten rule about admitting that to a woman.
“So, what did you decide when you looked at me?” she asked.
Which is precisely WHY there is an unwritten rule about admitting that to a woman.
So how does a guy answer that one?
“I’m sure I decided that you’d make beautiful babies.” I said.
Then I realized what I’d said. Shit! I needed to turn things around.
“So, what’s this all about Jules?” I figured if I started asking the questions, maybe I could get out of the trouble I was probably in.
She stood up. There was a look in her eyes I’d never seen before. It was a sort of … I don’t know … soft look? She was fiddling with the top button of her blouse.
“You’re a good man Dirk” she said, stepping even closer to me. “I’ve been thinking about that story that Bob wrote. The one about the kid that was sent to his Aunt and Uncle for punishment and his Aunt … took care of his needs? And her own needs too?”
I remembered and nodded, not sure where this was going.
“And I have a nephew, but he’s like a little prick, like those girls you were talking about who don’t care about anybody except themselves.”
She was so close now she was almost touching me.
“And then it occurred to me that you’re young enough to be my nephew.”
Now what the hell did THAT have to do with the price of tea in China?
“And if YOU were my nephew, I think I’d like to spend time with you.” She stepped even closer. I felt the tips of her breasts touch my chest.
And I began to get an idea of what was actually going on here. And I did not find the idea repugnant, other than it’s never a good idea to have office romances.
But I hadn’t had a girlfriend for over eight months, and Julie WAS a good looking woman.
“I don’t have an aunt.” I said, trying to sound sad. “But if I did, I’d wish she was like you.” I took it a step further to see how serious she was. “Except that a nephew shouldn’t think about his aunt like I’d think about you.”
Her eyes sparkled and she took a deep breath. She looked around. “Could you please get your poor old aunt something to drink? I’m just parched.”
OK, that threw me. But I played along and went to the kitchen and got her a glass of water. She didn’t so much try to drink it as pour it on her face. It all ran down on her blouse.
“OH!” she yipped, brushing at the stains. “How clumsy of me. I’ll just throw this in the dryer.” She started unbuttoning that blouse, and all I could see was skin. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Julie ALWAYS wore a bra.
So now I knew beyond doubt that she’d planned to come over here and was hoping that something like this would happen.
I’d like to say that I put my hands on her breasts, offering to keep them warm, or something witty like that.
What I did was go back to the kitchen, get more water, and then I came back out and threw it on her pants.
I’ll never forget the joy in her laughter.
Then it was clothing flying everywhere, and her tugging me to the wrong door, which went to a closet, and me dragging her to my bedroom. She started up about how she couldn’t let her nephew do this to her, because it just wasn’t right, and she plopped down on the bed and held her arms out to me. I climbed on and she insisted that I stop, while her hand went to my rock hard prick and pulled it to her opening. And then it was push, pull, slap, slap, kiss, kiss and the sweet agony of release, and I never even thought to ask her if it was OK to shoot off in her. I think we were both too giddy to think about protection. We were talking Aunt and Nephew, but we were acting like seventeen year olds.
Later I lay there on my side, just looking at her. She was GORGEOUS under those frumpy clothes she always wore. I told her so too, and she beamed.
“You already had your way with me. You don’t have to compliment me any more.” she said, her eyes wary.
“I have to set up having my way with you again, don’t I?” I cupped one of her beautiful heavy breasts.
“We’ll see.” she said. Then, quite seriously, she said “I don’t want this to affect what happens at work. I like my job, and I like my supervisor. I don’t want my supervisor to change.”
I responded quite seriously too. “I only have one aunt, and she never ever shows up at work.”
And at work we DID manage to act more or less normal, though there were some glances and winks. She told me she didn’t want to have ‘too much of a good thing’ so we only got together every couple of weeks or so.
But I digress. That’s actually in the future.
The next night, just like always, they got done with work and gathered around the computer. And, as usual they tittered and moaned.
“Dirk!” yelled Linda. “Don’t you want to read with us tonight Dirk?” I had a feeling that Julie had been less than discretionary with her two co-workers, concerning our little tryst.
Boy, was I wrong. But then, I wouldn’t know that until later.
Anyway, I almost put a wrench in the spokes without even knowing it when I said “Naw, I don’t think so.” See, I knew that if I read with them, surrounded by sweet smelling females, I’d get a monster hardon. I mean if it was a good story, and, for the most part they usually were. And I did NOT want to have the front of my pants poking out in front of Linda and Jill. If Julie saw it … no big deal. And, if it would have been just Julie and me there, I’d have read a story and then fucked her brains out.
But it wasn’t just us two.
“Come on Dirk.” whined Linda. “It’s more fun when you’re sitting here.”
Now, if I’d have stopped to think about that, I might have decided that was a decidedly odd thing to say. I mean, in the beginning they didn’t want me there at all. Hell, they didn’t even want me to know what they were DOING!. And now, all of a sudden, it’s more fun if I’m there?
But I didn’t think about that. I was busy thinking about how I was going to get out of embarrassing myself. I couldn’t say I found his stories boring. They knew better than that. And I could probably find something wrong with any of the stories … if you tried hard enough it was easy to do that.
Then Julie torpedoed me. “Yeah, come on Dirk. I think you’ll like this one.”
Now what. If she liked it she might want to … think about it … later … with me … if you get my drift. I felt my boner starting already. Maybe if I sat down it wouldn’t be so noticeable.
Linda and Julie scooted apart so I could sit between them. This story was called “Peeking At Sister’s Tattoo” and it was just dirty. I mean it was dirty in the old timey sense of being a nasty, dirty, spicy story. And it was different than his other stories. It was told different in a jerky kind of style.
But it was hot. I mean if you were a dirty, nasty, perverted sister-lover kind of guy, it would have you digging through the clothes hamper, sniffing your sister’s panties right NOW!
Now I’m NOT a dirty, nasty, perverted sister-lover kind of guy. I have a sister, and she’s nice and I love her and everything, but I just can’t get comfortable with a picture of her and me making the two-backed beast in my mind. In fact, I can’t even MAKE that picture in my mind.
I heard a gasp from Linda, beside me, and I glanced at her. Now if SHE was my sister, I’d be a dirty, nasty, sister-lover kind of guy.
The story got to a place where the kid was sperming his sister’s friend, and then went after his sister too, and Linda’s hand went between her legs. She was wearing jeans and I felt sorry for her. Jeans are so stiff. You can’t feel much through them. I looked over at Julie and her mouth was hanging open. She was breathing fast too.
Then I glanced at Jill. I expected her to look horrified. I mean she’s only 19 or 20, and all this just HAD to be new and perverted to her. She was leaning forward, that intense look on her face. Then in a low and sultry voice she said very very softly … “Oh fuck!”. She suddenly looked right at me and her mouth went into an “O” and she blushed.
“I have to go to the bathroom” she said. Then she jumped up and RAN towards the one reserved for the ladies.
Linda jumped up and hissed “Me too.” and took off after Jill.
That left Julie and me there. Julie turned to me and said “You don’t suppose we’d have time to …” She had this hopeful look in her eye.
“Julie!” I said, shocked. I mean she was the one who said things had to be cool at work, right?
Then SHE blushed. “Yeah, I know. But it would be nice right now.” She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “Maybe I’d better go make sure the girls are OK.” and she got up and went to the bathroom too.
I looked back at the story. The little bastard had fucked the THIRD girl too! AND she suddenly wanted to be knocked up by him, just like all the others. What a crock! I went to the bottom of the story, where you can write to the author. I didn’t want to use my work email address, but I had one at Hotmail so I could use it when doing business with on-line companies, so I put that one in the “from” spot.
Then I let the bastard have it. I told him that I might have bought off on ONE girl getting nailed, but that there was no way the others would do it too, especially his sister. I told him that he needed to get real, and besides, after seeing the tattoo through the peephole, that’s the LAST time it was even mentioned in the story, even though the name of the story WAS about the tattoo. Then I sent it to him. Imagine, thinking this crap was sexy and foisting it on the public.
Feeling good I looked around. It was kind of boring without all the girls being there. Just for shits and giggles, I sifted through his stories and picked one called “Love On The Range”. It was about a cowboy and I liked cowboys and western stuff. It started out pretty good and after maybe ten minutes I hoped the girls were having fun, because I was having fun. I’d substituted Julie for the mother in the story, and Linda for the blond girl. I figured Jill would take on the persona of the one who got snake bit. I didn’t know any girls as young as the one who “caught” him in the pond, but his description of her was good enough I could see her in my mind. I couldn’t make it all the way through the story before I had to go visit the little boy’s room. Man, for a guy I hated so much, he did have a way with words.
On my next day off I sat around the house again in my boxers, hoping that Julie would show up. I had been reading a lot of B.O.B.’s stories and even though they weren’t much good, I was pretty horny for some reason. Just thinking about sex, probably.
So, when the doorbell rang I was up and had the door open wide before I realized it wasn’t Julie.
It was Linda.
And she was looking FINE! She’d done something to her hair and she had on different makeup or something. She was wearing a tube top, that clung to her medium sized breasts like it was hanging on for dear life. Her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric. Short shorts completed her ensemble, not counting the sandals and sunglasses she had on.
She lowered the sunglasses, peering over them at my semi nakedness. My boxers had little hearts on them. I got them from a previous girlfriend for Valentines day and had thought that Julie would get a kick out of them. I felt my face get about the color of the hearts.
“My, my, my” she said, smiling. “Aren’t we decked out for the opera.”
“Um … sorry” I mumbled. “I thought you were somebody else.”
“Oh really?” she said, looking like she knew some secret. “And who would that be?”
“Uh … nobody. Never mind.” I said brilliantly. “What’s up?” I added lamely. “Come in. I’ll just go put something on.”
“Oh, that’s OK” she said. “I won’t be staying long. I just need your opinion about something.” She walked past me. MAN! She smelled good!
She walked into the living room like she’d been there before, which she hadn’t, and pointed to the couch. “You sit there.” she said.
I sat down, puzzled as to why she’d care where or even IF I sat. “What’s up?” I asked again.
She fiddled with her purse, standing in front of me. “You remember that story we read the other day? The one about the kid whose sister got a tattoo and he peeked at her?”
“Yeah, I said” It was pretty stupid. I even wrote our friend Bob a note about it.”
“You’re KIDDING!” she squealed. “What did he say?”
“Say?” I asked.
“Yeah, when he wrote back. What did he say?” She sounded quite confident that he’d answered my email.
“Um … I don’t know. I haven’t checked my email.” I said. It was true. I didn’t know anybody outside of work, and sent few emails. I received even fewer.
Linda looked around “Where’s your computer?”
“In the bedroom” I said.
“Where’s that?” she asked. “Lets go see what he said.”
I was trying to remember what condition my bedroom was in. “Linda, he probably deleted my email right away. I told him the story was no good. He wouldn’t answer something like that.”
Linda turned around and folded her arms under her breasts. My GOODNESS but they were tasty looking things. She had a look on her face that suggested she was not overly pleased with me.
“Dirk, Bob answers ALL his email if people leave a valid email address. He even wrote to ME one time.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I wrote and told him I liked one of his stories and he wrote back and thanked me for reading it.” She had a smug look on her face.
“That’s not answering an email. That’s acknowledging that you sent one.” I was a little upset that I was having to defend myself here.
“Well, I liked it and I bet you dinner that he answered yours too. Are you chicken to look?”
So I trudged back to the bedroom, which, thankfully wasn’t all that bad. The computer was on and the DSL was always on. Linda sat down like she owned the place and said “What service?” I told her and she accessed Hotmail’s server. “What user name?”
“Here, let me do that” I growled. I tried to put in my user name, which is IronMan and some numbers, and then the password really fast, so she wouldn’t be able to see it, but she was better than I was fast.
“Iron Man? How cute” she giggled. I had been typing sort of over her shoulder on one side and she turned to look at my boxers, just as blatantly as you can imagine. “Doesn’t look much like iron to me.” She laughed out loud and then giggled some more.
By then I was in and, sure enough, there was a message from Beating Off Bob. I cringed as she pulled it up. My message to him was there and his answer was above it.
It was embarrassing.
First he thanked me for my comment. Then he reminded me that he was writing fantasies, where all boys could shoot three times in a row and spurt streams of semen every time, because it would be fun to be able to actually do that, even though none of us can. Well, not at my age anyway. Then he told me to reread the story because I was wrong when I said he never mentioned the tattoo in the story after the part where the kid peeked.
I already knew I’d screwed up there, because I’d read the story again the next day and saw where the kids sees that his sister’s tattoo is of a dragon.
Then he thanked me for reading and suggested that I relax a little and save being worried about stuff for real situations.
Linda turned around and looked at me. She wasn’t looking at my shorts this time. “That’s the story I asked you about.” she said.
“Yeah?” I responded.
“You thought it was TRASH?!” she asked, her voice rising.
“Well, you know … I mean all I did was point out some inconsistencies … um … I just said it wasn’t very believable.”
“I READ what you said Dirk.” she said heatedly. “And I LIKED that story. I liked it a LOT!” she said. She was getting louder and louder. “In fact, Dirk, THAT’S why I came over here today.” She looked like women do when they’ve proved their point, but you don’t quite understand HOW they proved their point, or even THAT they proved their point.
I know you’ve seen that look. They all know how to do it.
Anyway, she was getting upset, and I didn’t want her upset. “Look, Linda, it’s no big deal. I just thought about my sister, and I couldn’t fit her into that fantasy, so I thought it was stupid.”
She looked at me and stood up. “I thought we explained that to you Dirk. You aren’t SUPPOSED to think about your REAL sister. You’re supposed to think about your PRETEND sister.”
“I don’t HAVE a pretend sister.” I said.
“What about me?” she said. “I’m about the right age to be your sister. Is it completely impossible for you to think of ME as your pretend sister?”
OK, guys, now I know you’re all with me and recognize this as one of those trick questions. No matter how you answer it, you can be wrong … big time. Then I thought back to what had happened with Julie.
My brilliant mind came up with: “OK … yeah … you’re right. If I HAD a pretend sister, I’d wish she was just like you.”
I know all you girls out there are laughing your asses off. But it was the best I could do in a crunch, OK?
The amazing thing, now that I reflect back on it, is that it was enough for Linda. It settled her down.
“And If I was your pretend sister, you’d give me advice wouldn’t you?” She asked that in a more normal voice.
“Sure” I said. It just popped out before I could stop it.
I just hate it when I open my mouth around a woman.
“Good” she said, beaming. “Cause that’s why I came over today. I need your advice.”
Oh shit. “Um … what about?” I opened Pandora’s box, just like that.
“Well,” she said “When I read that story I thought about getting a tattoo. And I thought maybe you’d give me some advice on what kind to get … and where to put it.”
“Gee Linda” I said, putting some sorrow in my voice. “I’m not sure I know very much about tattoos. I mean I don’t even know what kind they have.”
“That’s OK” she said. “When I went to the tattoo place they have the temporary kind? You know that you can put on with water and they stay until you wash them off? Anyway, I got some of them, so we could … experiment.”
She dug into here purse and pulled out an envelope. She dumped it on my computer desk. There were four or five little pictures, about an inch or two across.
One was a dragon.
“Wow” I said, impressed. “That’s just like the one in the story.”
She smiled. “Yes, that’s why I got that one. So … where do you think that one should go? I mean if I get that one.”
She stood back, like that would mean I could make a decision. In the story the tattoo went right inside the border of the girl’s pubic hair. I could see that in my mind, but not on Linda. I’d have to look at her … pussy … to visualize that, and I didn’t think she’d appreciate that one bit.
I realized my eyes were firmly fixed on where I wasn’t supposed to look and tore them away, lifting them up. Her eyes nailed me right then and there. She knew exactly where I had been looking.
“Do you think it would look good … there?” Her voice was husky.
“Um … I don’t know. Maybe.” I said, swallowing.
“We can put it on.” she said, picking it up from the desk top. “To see what you think.”
I already knew what I’d think if she put it on where the girl in the story put it.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, I figured out why she was there. It was just like Julie, who had come over to live out one of Bob’s fantasies with me. She wanted to play some kind of … game. The funny thing was, all I could think about was how she never … ever … talked about the guy who had gotten her pregnant. There could only be two reasons. Either he had abandoned them, or she had run from him. In either case, what she was doing with me was pretty extraordinary. She obviously trusted me.
I looked at Linda again. She was medium height, with dark blond hair. She had a nice smile, though she rarely used it. I’d seen her little girl a couple of times and she was a doll, cute as could be. Once or twice I’d thought about Linda, staying alone, never talking about the guy who fathered her child, and about how sad it was that some guy wasn’t graced with her presence in his life. She was a nice woman, who had a lot to offer a guy. I needed to be nice to her.
I had been thinking instead of talking, something I should practice more often, but she was biting her lower lip, waiting for some response from me.
“Shouldn’t we put all of them on?” I asked. “I mean, to get the best idea of which one would be best?”
She looked at me and, somehow, I could tell that the game had really started. She had this different look in her eyes, part hope, part lust, part “I knew I could get him if I tried”. There was promise in that look. It promised that, if I did things right I’d have a very good time. And it promised that if I did things wrong, it would get ugly.
“Well, I suppose we could do that.” she said, as if she’d just this second thought of it. “And … you’d help me with that?”
“Ummm yes.” I answered. “Who is this tattoo going to be for? I mean is it to make a statement to the public? Cause if it is it needs to be visible to the public.”
She put her hands behind her, like a little girl who has been caught doing something wrong and hopes she can look thin and harmless enough to avoid punishment. “No” she said softly.
“Well, then, is it for some cause? Or maybe to make a point? You know, the principle of the thing?” It would need to be someplace where you COULD show it easily, but not where it would show all the time.”
Again she shook her head. “No, I was thinking of doing it for my boyfriend.”
“Ahhhh” I said sagely, as if I had just that second thought of that possibility. “So it could be … well hidden. Where only he would ever see it.”
Now she nodded. “Uh huh” she said. It was so totally unlike her to say that that it just sounded … hot somehow. I didn’t have to look at my shorts. I knew they were tented out.
“Well then” I said, playing my part and making sure of something. “Maybe you should have your boyfriend help you decide which one and where to put it.”
She frowned beautifully. She had to have practiced that frown in the mirror for hours. The only things that moved on her face were the ends of her eyebrows and the very corners of her lips. It was more of a hint of a frown than a frown, but it was devastatingly effective.
“I don’t actually HAVE a boyfriend yet. But I hope I will some day.”
“Um … I see. No boy friend. I can’t believe it, but I see.” It never hurt to throw in the odd well placed compliment when role playing like this.
Except it didn’t really feel like role playing. She really WAS sort of like a sister to me. I mean she didn’t have a man in her life, and she had to be struggling to raise her daughter alone and all, and my heart went out to her just like it would go out to my real sister if she were in that situation. And I really meant that compliment, because she WAS a babe and I COULDN’T believe she wasn’t surrounded by men all the time. I thought about how I might just get lucky here, and I actually FELT … lucky because of that.
“Well, I haven’t found one yet I like enough to call him my boyfriend. I’m kind of … picky.” She knew how to throw out a random compliment too.
I decided to ratchet it up a notch. “So, this tattoo needs to be someplace where, when your boyfriend sees it, he knows he’s the ONLY guy who will get to see it.”
“Uh huh” she hit me hard again.
“Well, OK” I said. “Um, I don’t mind and all … helping you I mean. But it probably wouldn’t be right for ME to see where this tattoo is going to go. I mean I’m not your boyfriend.”
She smiled. “Yes, but you’re my brother … we’re family … so it’s OK. Besides, won’t the tattoo artist see it too?”
Now I tried to look studious and uninterested. Never mind I was standing there in my heart-covered boxers, with a full monte boner poking the front out seven inches.
“OK” I said, like we had just concluded a dry business deal. “So it’s going to have to go in the bikini area. I mean that’s the only place nobody will see but him. And me. And the tattoo artist.”
“Gee, I guess you’re right. Kind of like the girl in that story we read, right?”
She had decided to change her personality to that of Marilyn Monroe acting stupid, but she was so cute at it that I was having a good time. And, it gave me an opening to be the bad big brother who seduces his poor trusting little sister.
“Well, I’ll go get some water” I said helpfully. “For the tattoo. And you can take all your clothes off.”
“Golly!” she said breathily. “ALL of them? You mean I have to be NAKED?”
“Well sure” I said comfortingly. “I mean we have to find places to put six tattoos, and with your clothes getting in the way and all, that would be really hard. Besides, don’t we need to see what you’ll look like to your boyfriend? Won’t HE see you naked?”
“Golly!” she sighed again. “I guess so. OK!” she said brightly. Before I could even move her tube top was down around her waist, like a thick belt. “Oops! she dimpled at me. “I pushed it the wrong way.”
Who was seducing who around here?
I just stood there, leaking into my shorts. Her breasts weren’t all that spectacular. I mean they weren’t huge, or anything like that. But they were Playboy Bunny boobs. Full, firm, not a hint of sag, perfectly round areolas, and button nipples that were the creamy color of the chocolate milk they looked like they might be capable of squirting.
She smiled sweetly. “The water?” she prompted.
I stumbled to the kitchen and got a cereal bowl and put water in it. I grabbed the scissors from the drawer and hurried back to my bedroom, where a naked woman was waiting for me.
She was waiting, and she was naked, but she had both hands covering her pubis.
“I’m a little shy” she said, not sounding shy in the slightest. “I thought about that story, and how she had to shave a spot for the tattoo, and I thought that would look … funny. So I kind of thought that maybe if there wasn’t any hair at all, it wouldn’t look funny. But I don’t know. I thought my big brother would give me an honest opinion.”
I leaked a LOT in my shorts then. In all my years I’ve never seen a real live actually shaved pussy. The idea gripped me … like a giant hand around my balls. Oh, it was gripping me gently … but only for now.
“Uh…” I had to clear my throat. “Gee, I don’t know sis. Let’s … um … have a gander.”
Her hands came away and my knees got all rubbery. I noticed for the first time she was thin, in excellent shape. She hadn’t thickened in the thighs, like a lot of women my age, and there was still a triangular shaped hollow at the top of her thighs, and one point of that triangle was made by where her thighs DID touch.
And that hollow space was full of pussy lips. Well, not FULL exactly, but they were hanging down probably a full inch from where they were attached. And I could tell just from looking that if I pinched them and pulled, they’d end up two inches long. I mean you could wrap up the knob of your dick in them like it was a birthday present or something.
At that point I was SO glad my long lost sister had found me.
“Uh, why don’t you sit down … over there.” I pointed at my bed. It was fate or something that I had just put new sheets on it, and that it was actually made up for once.
She sat on the bed, with her ass right on the edge of the bed and leaned back, supporting her upper body with her arms. That thrust her breasts out at me. Then, like Mata Hari moving in for the kill, she let her knees drift slowly apart … wider … wider … wider, until there was room for me to get between them.
“You can kneel there.” She pointed to the floor between those lily white spread thighs. Those long loose pussy lips were stuck together.
I knelt, still holding the bowl of water and the scissors.
She held out the dragon tattoo and I trimmed around it so that it would be easier to handle. “Lets try this one first.” she said. “I read the back. It says you can … lick … the area you want to put it on, and then you press it to where you licked, and you have to leave it there for sixty seconds.”
Somehow the bad big brother’s plan to seduce his little sister had been found wanting, and little sister’s plan to seduce her innocent older brother had been substituted.
I looked at the bowl of water and set it carefully down on the floor. I pushed it away from me. “I always follow instructions.” I said. I looked at where I was going to lick.
“Here?” I touched her skin with the tip of my index finger, well above where there used to be hair.
She shook her head.
I dragged the tip of my finger an inch closer to those fabulous floppy pussy lips and looked up at her face, framed by those glorious breasts.
Another head shake.
I slid my finger tip to within an inch of her pussy lips and she sucked in air. “There!” I said.
She was biting her lower lip, and gave me a head nod.
“OK, then” I said, like I was about to sharpen a pencil or something. “Here we go.” I leaned in and stuck my tongue out as far as I could, and made it as hard as I could, and I licked the tiniest possible area, an inch from her pussy lips. I ran my tongue tip in circles while she squirmed. Then I pulled back and slapped the small piece of paper on that area and held it there. I looked up and her eyes were smoky.
“We’ll just have to wait sixty seconds” I said, matter of factly. I started humming the Jeopardy tune, like they do when they’re waiting for an answer.
“I don’t think you got it wet enough” said Linda in a voice I did NOT recognize.
“Well, we could try again” I said amiably. “On the other side maybe? Put your finger right there.” She brought a hand up and I put one of her fingers on the dragon tattoo that still had 30 seconds to go.
I got up and went to the computer, where the remaining tattoos were lying.
I was on my way back when she said “Dirk, it doesn’t seem fair that I have to be naked, but you get to wear those ridiculous shorts.”
I had been hoping she’d say that, but I resisted. “Well golly sis, it’s just that there are some things you might not be old enough to see. I wouldn’t want to shock you or anything.”
“Dirk, we’re just family here” she said and she sounded like Linda again. “How could you possibly shock me?
I bent over and shucked my shorts. My seven inch boner sprang out and pointed at her like a bloodhound on the trail.
“Oh my!” she said. And this time she REALLY sounded like Linda. “Maybe you CAN shock me.”
I got to my knees and held out the remaining tattoos. She picked a butterfly and handed it to me. Then she put her hand back behind her and waited for me to lick that area wet. First, I pulled the first paper off. It had transferred beautifully, and she now had a tiny fire breathing dragon about an inch from her pussy. I wanted to lick that pussy so bad I was panting, but the dragon looked good, and I knew if I started making her pussy sloppy it would disappear, so I got back up and left her with a question in her eyes. I got a mirror off the hallway wall and brought it back. I positioned it for her and she stared at her new artwork.
“That, little sister, looks HOT!” I said.
“Wow! she said in a little voice. “It really does, doesn’t it?”
I put the mirror on the bed beside her and got down between her spread thighs. The time for playing was over. I put the butterfly on the mirror, spread those wonderful pussy lips with my thumbs and stuck my tongue in her pussy.
She gave me a nice sound as I licked upward and ran my tongue over her clitty mound. It was almost smooth there, and I wasn’t sure I’d found it until she gave a sigh when my tongue pressed there and flicked over that area several times. I sucked in those floppy outer lips, which had thickened considerably. It was really amazing. You could get them clear inside your mouth and bite on them. It was almost like having a woman’s tongue in your mouth. They were THAT large. But she didn’t seem to get all that big a thrill out of having them pulled on, so I went back to licking up inside her and rubbing her clitty with my upper lip.
“Ohhh Dirk, I knew you’d be good at this.” she moaned. She was moving her hips around a little, and her pussy was getting nice and wet. I pulled back enough to make sure our little dragon friend was still there. He was. I licked over to the other side of her mons and got it all wet and then pulled back.
I reached for the butterfly and her eyes got wide. I honestly think she thought once I got started I wouldn’t be able to stop, and that I’d act like most guys, getting myself off and if she got some, well, OK, but it wasn’t a priority.
I pressed the butterfly to that area and looked at her breasts. “You know, you might want to put one on your breast somewhere.”
She nodded quickly and I leaned forward to suck those beautiful chocolaty nipples. I had to suck them for at least sixty seconds. I mean, what else was I going to do while the second tattoo transferred?
When some time had passed, I reluctantly gave her back her boobs and pulled the paper off her mons. The butterfly was nice, but I wasn’t much interested in it for now. I jacked my cock a couple of times, getting it ready for the main event.
Linda suddenly said “Wait!”
I groaned, and figured it was condom time.
“I also wondered what it might look like if my boyfriend had a tattoo.” she said.
Now THAT wasn’t something I had anticipated. She pushed me back and stood up. Then she put ME on the bed and picked up a tattoo off the mirror. She didn’t even look to see which one she’d gotten.
“I have to get the area where I want it all wet.” she said.
Then she leaned over and swallowed my cock.
Man, oh man. She sucked better than an Orrick eight pound vacuum. I have never had a blow job from a woman who had that kind of sucking power. I can’t even describe it, except to say that I couldn’t breathe because she was pulling on my cock so hard with her mouth that my diaphragm wouldn’t move. I think I said “Gaack” or something like that, to let her know that it was very close to the end.
She suddenly stopped sucking and lovingly let my cock slip out of her mouth. She examined it critically and said “I’m not sure it’s wet enough.” Then she put her hand between her legs and came back with a shiny wet finger. “Oooo, there’s LOTS of wet down there.”
Well, you know the rest. She got up over me and used the index finger of each hand to spread those lips apart, and then she settled down on me to get my dick good and wet.
And she did too.
Five minutes later I was sure she was a secret agent or something, and that she took the job at the hospital as a cover, because this woman had no business being without a man. She fucked like she sucked, with vigor, expertise and enthusiasm. She ripped through two orgasms and convinced me beyond any doubt that it was me who gave them to her, even though all I was doing was lying there being happy. No man in his right mind would walk away from this woman once she’d bedded him. In fact, just as I felt her sucking the cum out of my balls I even said it.
“Ohhh Linda baby, you just HAVE to marry me.” I felt pretty stupid, but I had to say that.
She laughed out loud, her hair flying and her hips rocking back and forth like a washing machine that’s out of balance and on high spin. “Aww Dirk, you’re so sweet” she moaned. She somehow leaned over and gave me a long kiss as she continued that rapid heart-stopping fuck motion.
And as I fountained inside her, blasting her full of my hot creamy spend, she said “But brothers can’t marry their sisters.” Then I got some more kisses as she slowly melted on top of me, covering my chest with hers. She put her face in my neck and breathed warm breath on me.
I felt wonderful. We lay there for a while, nuzzling and kissing and just breathing. It was so comfortable that I fell asleep. I remember feeling her move but I didn’t wake up.
When I DID wake up, I was alone. I felt really sad that she’d left, afraid that she didn’t like it there or something, or had gotten what she wanted and didn’t want anything else. But then I felt better later, when I had to get up and go to the can.
I had to go so bad that I had a woody, and when I looked down at it to aim it into the toilet, there, right on top, right in the middle, was the temporary tattoo of a daisy, and right next to it another tattoo of a pair of red lips.
I went back to work the following Wednesday, not knowing what to expect. I got there first and was looking at the incoming shipping documents when Linda walked in.
“Hi” she said brightly. She had on bright red lipstick … the same color as the tattoo she’d left on me. She never wore lipstick at work. “Good days off?”
“The best” I said. She seemed pretty upbeat.
“Good” she said. And she went to look and see what the day shift had left for us, just like always.
Julie walked in. She grinned at me. “Good days off?”
“Uh … yeah, fine.” I said. I looked for Linda, but she wasn’t in the room.
I knew something was up when Jill came in a minute later.
“Hey boss, good days off?”
“Why is everybody so interested in how good my days off were?” I growled.
Jill looked hurt, but there was a gleam in her eye. “Gosh, boss, don’t get all excited, we just want you to have nice, relaxing days off. Don’t you want that for us when WE have days off?”
She had said “we just want” in that sentence, and she was the last one to come in, so how could she know that the others had asked the exact same question?
Now I was sure they had talked to each other, and that there was something going on. I had an idea, but didn’t know for sure. I figured I’d find out later, when we read another of B.O.B.’s stories.
It was midnight before they gathered around the computer. I was sitting at my desk and when I heard them and glanced up, Linda was looking at me. She smiled, and my dick started hardening. They didn’t say a word to me. They just arranged four chairs in front of the screen.
I thought back to the last time we’d done this. They’d made room for me between Julie, who had seduced me first, and Linda, who had me next.
Tonight the empty one was between Linda … and Jill.
So Julie had passed me to Linda. Was Linda going to pass me to Jill? What was I, some kind of fuck toy? I reflected on that for about fifteen seconds. I remembered one time how I had pleurisy, and every time I took a breath there was this agonizing pain. But it was honest pain, and people felt sorry for me. Being a fuck toy was degrading … wasn’t it? Would people feel sorry for me if they found out?
I looked at Jill, plain, young, intense Jill, who was young enough to be my … daughter. The part of my brain that was enjoying this immensely added “or niece.”
I decided I didn’t care if people felt sorry for me or not. If I was a fuck toy … so be it.
But this was crazy! They couldn’t just decide to divvy me up and share and share alike! And what made them think I’d go along with this crazy plan in the first place?
Remember that part of my brain that was enjoying this whole thing? It SHOUTED the answer to the rest of me. “BECAUSE YOU’RE A MAN, YOU IDIOT!”
That chair beckoned me, because I was a man. And men were made to broadcast their seed.
Even if you have to be a fuck toy to do it.
I went over and sat down. I was so sure I knew their plan that I leaned over to Jill and said “So you’re next.” I smiled what I was sure was a suave smile.
She looked at me like I was a turd or something. An old, ripe turd.
“EEEWWWWW” she whined, slapping at my shoulder like she was afraid she might get some of me on her. “These two may be stupid, but not ME! I wouldn’t let YOU touch me with a TWENTY foot pole, you pervert!”
Pervert! She called ME a pervert! I’m not the one writing all this smut and putting it on the internet so people can read it. I’m not the one going to people’s houses to play act and pretend to engage in incest. I’m not the one who gets together with my co-workers and sets up some nefarious scheme to steal the virtue of some poor guy and turn him into a miserable fuck toy with low self esteem.
I was injured, and I was about to let them all know just HOW injured I was when Linda leaned over and whispered in my ear.
“You’re not supposed to know, you idiot. It’s a game, and you can’t just come out and say things like that. You’re ruining it for her. Don’t be an asshole!”
This, gentlemen, is the difference between our standard operating procedure (“Ug! Me man. You woman. We fuck now?”) and the way women like to do things.
Linda wasn’t finished. “She went to a lot of effort to choose just the right story. Be nice!”
Well, what do you do? I’d already screwed the pooch, so to speak, and it was just possible that the pooch was all I was going to GET to screw … so to speak.
Men! When in doubt … throw yourself on her mercy. It’s a good rule. I tried it.
“I’m sorry Jill” I said in my most sincere voice. “That was crude and rude and I shouldn’t have said that. Please forgive me.”
She looked at me out of the sides of her eyes and thawed just a teensy bit. Maybe now that pole was only ten feet long. Then, just to prove I could play the game, I said “Well, what are we reading tonight? Is it good?”
That lost me most of what I’d just gained, because the story was already up on the screen, where anyone could see what it was. If he was paying attention. I decided to shut up, and mentally licked my wounds.
It was called “Glamour Shots For Daughter”. I’d already read it, but by now I wasn’t going to say a word. I’d liked this story. It was really nasty too, but in a different way than the one about the tattoos. This guy didn’t really WANT to fuck his daughter, but a combination of the situation and her seducing him got him to cross the line.
I knew that didn’t really happen often in real life, but a man can’t look at a teenage girl, whether she’s his daughter or a complete stranger and not think about what she’s ripe for, even if it’s only for a second or two. And the IDEA of being seduced by a teenager is what’s exciting.
That’s why we guys look at Playboy. When you’re younger than, or the same age as the models, you fantasize about them being your girlfriend. When you’re ten years older you fantasize about her wanting an experienced man, rather than all those “boys”, and YOU are the man she wants. Then five or ten years later, the models are about the age of your nieces, and that’s a nice fantasy. They’re also the age of your daughter(s), but you shove that way back in the mental closet where you can’t really look at it, cause that’s nasty and perverted, right?
But … there comes a time when you are old enough to recognize that every girl in that magazine is some guy’s daughter, and she’s flaunting it and saying “Come and get it” to every man who looks at those pictures.
You think her father doesn’t look at them too?
I was behind the power curve, thinking about Jill being the age of the daughter I never had. They were scrolling and starting to make noises again, and move around in their chairs. I’d read this story several times, so that was OK. I just glanced at the screen and my memory supplied most of the details of what they were reading.
And you know what? For once I didn’t get a hardon. Instead I watched Jill reading, out of the corner of my eye. It was fascinating, watching her pupils dilate, and her breathing increase. She leaned forward no less than three times, getting closer and closer to the screen. She pushed her glasses up onto her nose after the last time she leaned forward, and licked her lips. Once Linda reached for the mouse to scroll and Jill said “Wait”. I saw her eyes go back up and start reading something again. I looked, and on the screen at that point was the part where Daddy was shaving his daughter’s pussy. She licked her lips again.
I use an electric razor. I started thinking about whether or not I had a safety razor in the house. I knew I would as soon as this shift was over. I might not ever get to use it, but I was going to be ready.
Well, we finished that story and the girls drifted off to do whatever they were doing in the bathroom after we read B.O.B.’s stories. I mean I knew what they were doing, but it was easier on me not to think too hard about it. I still had three hours to work.
I walked by the door to the ladies room and heard arguing going on inside. I couldn’t understand them, but all three of them were going at it. I couldn’t tell if it was mad sounds, or passion sounds. I mean it was hard for me to think they were all three in there screaming as they came on their fingers, or whatever else they might be using. But they WERE being awfully loud.
I’m a man. Men are pigs. I pushed the door open just the tiniest bit and listened.
But pigs are not rewarded. All I heard was Jill say “It HAS to be tonight!” and then Julie said “OK, OK, calm down. We’ll see what we can do.” I barely made it back to my desk and they all three trooped out.
Linda went immediately to the part of the storage shelves that have cosmetics for the gift shop on them. Julie was raiding the shelves where they have shampoo and sponge bath supplies. I got up and went over to Linda.
“You can’t just take supplies.” I said in my best supervisor voice.
“We have shortages all the time. It’s for a good cause.” she said and then ignored me as she sifted through tubes of lipstick.
I tried with Julie too. “That stuff is for patients.” I said firmly.
“Shut up.” she said curtly. “This is all your fault.”
I reared back. Now what was THAT all about. She finally turned to look at me, sort of disgustedly.
“Isn’t there somewhere you could go? Something you could go do? Why don’t you go home early. You look tired. We wouldn’t want you to get sick.”
Yup, good old Julie, bossing me around. I was about to let her have it when she said “Hey, do you have any silk boxers?”
Well, I lost my train of thought at that. “No” I said.
She carried an armful of stuff over to her desk and put it down. Then she got her purse and got in it for her billfold. She pulled out a twenty dollar bill and shoved it at me. “Go over to the corner of Fifth and Market, you know, where the fountain is in the middle of that traffic circle?” I nodded, not having any idea what she was getting at. “Look for a gold Lincoln Town Car. There will be a guy in it named Marcus. Tell him you need a pair of silk boxers your size. Tell him I sent you. Then go home, take a shower and put those boxers on. Got that?”
I looked at her slack jawed. “You’re insane.” I said.
Something changed in her face. “Probably.” she agreed. Then she frowned. “Look, I don’t have time to explain it. Jill’s scared to death. She wants to play, but she’s very young and she doesn’t have the self confidence that experience brings. She’s insisting on moving too fast. Just be yourself. You’re a good guy, Dirk, and we trust you. Just be your nice good guy self. And go do the things I just told you. We’ll cover for you here if anybody comes looking. Nobody will. They never do. It’ll be OK. Just take a nap or something, but be wearing those boxers in …” she consulted her watch, “four hours. Please?”
There comes a time in every man’s life when he puts his foot down to a woman. But I decided this was not it. I mean she actually said “please”.
So I took her twenty and left. When I got to Fifth and Market I saw the traffic circle was full of people. It was four in the morning and the place was packed! There were lots of women who looked like hookers to me. I was right. I had to turn down twelve “dates” before I found the Town Car. There was a guy dressed in feathers leaning against it. He was wearing silver framed sunglasses and had a gold tooth.
“Marcus?” I asked.
“Who’s asking?” he said in a decidedly effeminate voice.
“Julie Crane sent me.” I said. I was about to say where she worked and what she looked like when his face lit up in a huge smile. Turned out he had TWO gold teeth.
“Patches sent you, huh? She checking up on me?”
“Patches?” I was clueless.
“That’s what we call her in our chapter. She’s my sponsor in our AA chapter.”
Wow, you learn something every day. I had no idea Julie was involved in Alcoholics Anonymous. It must have showed on my face.
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” said Marcus “Her ex did a number on her. If she’d have wanted you to know she’d have said something. So not a word, OK?”
The way he said it suggested that I should eat, breathe and bathe in discretion or I might never eat or breathe again. And his gay boy accent was nowhere to be heard.
“What do you want?” He wasn’t so friendly any more.
“I need a pair of silk boxers.” I said. There were weird people all around me and I just wanted to get out of there.
“Who they for?” he asked.
“ME!” I said. Who did he THINK they were for?
He looked me up and down. “There’s no accounting for taste.” he said, shaking his head. The fact that I was not attractive to him didn’t bother me in the least. He pulled out a cell phone and made a call. “Be here in ten minutes” he said. “That’s thirty bucks.”
I was astonished. “Thirty DOLLARS for a pair of boxer shorts?” I said incredulously.
He looked at his watch pointedly. “It’s four thirty in the fucking Ay Em” he said. “This ain’t Wal-Mart.”
I wasn’t feeling too good. “But she only gave me a twenty.” I complained.
“Patches gave YOU money to buy YOURSELF a pair of silk boxers?” Now HE was the incredulous one. He looked wary. “Has she fallen off the wagon?”
“NO!” I said hotly. “I’ve never seen her take a drink in my life. I work with her.”
“Oh” he said, leaning back against the car again. “Well, in that case they’re twenty bucks.”
I had to decline five more dates before a kid on a motorcycle drove up and stopped next to us. He was sitting on a plastic wrapped package, which he extracted from under his ass and handed to Marcus. Marcus handed it to me. In it was a pair of tiger striped, silk boxers.
“Tiger stripes?” I was incredulous again. I figured it was my turn.
He snatched the twenty out of my hand. “Have a good time … tiger.” he said, and he blew me a kiss.
I got the hell out of there.
If you’re ever out at Oh Dark Thirty in the morning and happen to need a hooker … just walk along with a pair of tiger striped silk boxers in your hand.
Draws em like bees to honey.
I went home and was on autopilot. I took a shower, got a bite, put on the tiger striped silk boxers and sat down in the recliner. When the doorbell woke me up it was light outside.
I got up, popped an Altoid and went to the door. I figured it was Jill. This was going to be interesting.
But it wasn’t Jill. This girl was a platinum blond. Her hair was about the same length, but it was swept back, like the wind was blowing it, even though there wasn’t any wind. And she didn’t wear glasses. Her eyes were bright blue, the color of the water when you see commercials about cruise ships and people are playing in tropical surf. She looked to be about 25 or so, and was a GOOD looking woman. She had on a crop top tie dyed T shirt that covered what were obviously a nice set of knockers, and a black leather miniskirt that showed some mighty fine long legs. She had on four inch spikes, but stood on them like she wasn’t used to them. I figured Marcus had found out where I lived and sent one of his … associates … over for one reason or another. There was a camera dangling from a strap gripped in her left hand. That must be what Marcus had sent over.
“Can I come in?” said Jill’s voice. I actually looked past her before I realized this WAS Jill. My jaw dropped. She had blue eye shadow on, over the longest eyelashes I had ever seen in my life, and a purple lip gloss that was exactly the same shade as the purple in the swirling colors of her shirt. Her cheeks looked like she was blushing.
“Dirk?” she said, her voice trembling.
I moved. “Ahh …. guh … mpfh” I cleared my throat, trying to say something. I backed up and she took that as an invitation. She walked past me and those spikes made her hips to the most amazing things. I was still standing there, in awe of what they’d done to her, when she turned around.
“I knew this was a bad idea” she said, her voice quivery now. “I look stupid, don’t I?”
I felt the sun on my back and realized I was standing in my open door, visible to John Q. Public and his wife Jane Doe, in tiger striped boxer shorts. I slammed it and cleared my voice.
“No” I croaked. “You don’t look stupid.” I took a step toward her.
“Really?” She wanted to hear me say it again.
“I can’t believe it” I found my voice. “You’re … gorgeous.”
“Gee, thanks” she said in a flat voice. No quiver there now. “It’s nice to know you can’t believe I could look nice.”
My heart actually hurt that this girl was upset with me. “No, baby” I said soothingly. “That’s not it. You’ve always been cute. But this … this is so different, and it’s really YOU, but you look so different. It’s hard for me to take in. You SOUND like Jill, but you look like a super model.”
She stood there, young, vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have come.” she said.
Suddenly I didn’t want her to leave for a long time. My mind cleared. “Look” I said, soothingly again. “You’re just Jill and I’m just Dirk. It’s morning on a regular day. I don’t know why you THINK you’re here, but you don’t have to be here for any particular reason in the world. You want a cup of coffee?”
She looked startled. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
“You want to help me make it?” I asked.
“Do you NEED help making it?” she popped back. She was sounding a little more confident.
“No, but I don’t want to be in a room you aren’t in right now.” I said.
She blushed. “You’re terrible.” she said. Her eyes went up and down my body and widened a little. “You’re wearing boxers, just like they said!”
I glanced down at my new shorts. My dick was rock hard and poking the front of the shorts out. I’d gotten a major boner from looking at her and hadn’t even known it.
“Uh, yeah. I like to be comfortable around the house.”
“You don’t LOOK comfortable” she said, eyeing my erection.
“Pay no attention to my unruly friend” I said. “He only does that in the presence of drop dead gorgeous women. He’ll settle down later … probably only four or five hours after you’re gone.” I figured one of those gratuitous compliments couldn’t hurt right now. “So, you’ll help me with the coffee?”
She giggled and said “OK. I wouldn’t want you to be all lonely or anything.”
We started for the kitchen and the camera swung from her hand. She looked at it like she’d never seen it before and thrust it out at me. “Here, I’m supposed to give you this and ask you to take pictures of me.”
“You’re supposed to?” I queried.
“Well, you know … like in the story.”
I took the camera and put it on a side table. Then I turned to her and took her hands in mine. “Look, Jill, you don’t have to play any games if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do ANYTHING you don’t want to. You can drink a cup of coffee and go home if that’s what you feel like doing. Or, you can help me paint the kitchen, or we can do calisthenics. But you DON’T have to do anything those stupid women talked you into doing.
She didn’t say anything. She just pulled her hands free, turned me around, and pushed me into my own kitchen. “Thank you.” she said quietly behind me.
“No problem” I said. I went to the counter and fiddled with the coffee stuff. When I got two cups and turned around she was sitting at the table, chin propped on her hand, which was supported by her arm, elbow on the table, staring at me. I felt this odd feeling, like there was a little tear in the fabric of the universe, seeing someone doing something so utterly common, but who was decidedly uncommon looking.
“It was my idea” she said.
“Your idea?” She could be talking about anything.
“About acting out the stories.” she said.
I sat down and handed her an empty cup. The water was still dripping through the machine. I hoped I looked interested, because I WAS interested.
“After we read the first ones, we were talking … you know, women’s chit chat … and Julie said she wished she had a nephew she could be … intimate with, because she’s lonely. And she doesn’t trust men. She said she’d teach a young boy how to be loving and stuff. But you can’t do that in our society.” She moved around in her chair, uncomfortable. “So we got to talking about men, and how the good ones are all taken, and Julie said all of them except you.” She had been talking to her empty cup, but now she looked up at me. “And I said she should get together with you and role play being your aunt.”
“Wow” I said.
“Yeah, and then Linda said that wasn’t fair, because if you were the only nice guy left then it wasn’t fair for Julie to get you, and Julie said she didn’t WANT you … I mean like to marry or keep or whatever, and she said that they ought to SHARE you.”
“Amazing” I said.
“And then it actually WORKED and they were so excited and pleased and happy and I thought that if it worked for them it might work for me too, but it was a stupid idea. I’m too scared, and you probably don’t want anything to do with me anyway.”
Why do women troll for compliments with such enthusiasm?
I stood up and showed her my boner again. Then I took both cups and filled them and set them on the table. I pointed at my boner with one hand, like the models do on TV when they’re showing the product? I went to the fridge and got the cream, and wagged my boner at her. Then I got a spoon and the sugar bowl and whacked my rod with the spoon, saying “Down boy! Heel!”
She was grinning by the time I was done. But her face went serious again. “I’m a virgin Dirk.” she said.
Greeaaat! Just what I needed. “And you can STILL be a virgin when you leave here. If that’s what you want, then that’s what will happen.” I said, spooning sugar in my coffee.
“But that’s the problem” she whined. “I DON’T want to be a virgin. But I’m scared to do it with anybody. I can’t keep a boyfriend because they all want to do it, and I can’t.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me” I said. “I’m not boyfriend material. Not for somebody like you.”
“And why not?” I had pricked her feminine pride.
“Well, for one thing, you’re young enough to actually BE my daughter. And I’ve already gotten involved with two other women, thanks to you.” I thought those were good reasons she could feel safe with me.
“That was the whole idea” she said. “None of us want the hassles of a steady boyfriend, and we figured if all three of us shared you, then we could have our fun and frolic when we wanted to, and since it was three of us you probably wouldn’t play around, so there wouldn’t be any disease problem. It would be sort of like a plural marriage, without the marriage.”
“And they went for it.” I said.
“You ARE a nice guy” she said.
“Nice guys finish last.” I joked.
“I know. They both said so. That’s why women like nice guys.” She wasn’t joking.
I looked at her. They really had done a wonderful job with her makeover. “Have you ever had any pictures taken of you? Sexy pictures?” I asked.
She blushed. “No.”
“You want me to take a few?” I asked. “You can have the film. But they did such a beautiful job on you, you really need to think about documenting this. I mean you may never look like this again.”
“I can’t see much” she said. I mean I can see you, but not much past you. These contacts are just colored ones that they use up in Optometry to show people what colored contact lenses would look like.”
“You don’t have to be able to see. All you have to do is pose.”
“How sexy?” she asked.
“As sexy as you want them.” I said.
“I didn’t bring any outfits. I wasn’t supposed to do this tonight … today. But I knew if I didn’t come over here today I’d chicken out. All I have on under this is a thong.”
“That would be pretty sexy” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “But you don’t have to do anything nude. Just pictures of how you look right now would be something I think you’d like. Just to show people what you looked like one time.”
She thought and sipped. “That would be OK, I guess.” she said.
I didn’t give her any time to think about it. I had a small deck out back, and my back yard was fenced with a tall board fence, so it was private. I took her out there and started posing her. I had her lean against the deck railing, with her hands out to her sides, resting on it. Her stomach showed. I had her draw one knee up, like she was rubbing her thighs together.
“Think about one of Bob’s stories that you like” I said.
Her eyes went unfocused.
“Think about how you feel when you read his stories.” I said.
She got a look on her face that was just what I wanted and I took the shot. There were only 36 frames on the roll of film that was in the camera, so I didn’t waste any. I had her put one hand flat on her stomach and rub it, and took one that way. Then I had her bend over, facing away from me, and look past her left leg at me. When she spread her legs a little I could almost see that thong. It made a good shot.
I kept talking to her, reminding her to think of sexy things. Then I took her into my bedroom, where I had once again made the bed, and posed her there, lying in various positions.
“You have no idea just how sexy you look” I said as I snapped one shot of her lying on her side, with her hand on her thigh. I noticed I could see her nipples poking through the shirt now. “You’re making me … horny.” I said.
“I am not” she breathed.
“You SHOULDN’T be” I said. “You’re MUCH too young for an old geezer like me to be lusting after. You really ARE young enough to be my daughter.”
“My dad would never ever take pictures like these” she said.
I had her stand up, legs spread as much as the mini would allow, and then bend forward. I told her to cup her breasts, like she was offering them to the camera, and make her lips into a kiss.
“You look fabulous” I said as I took the shot. “The only thing better would be if I could see them.”
“You mean my breasts?” she cooed at the camera, bouncing them a little.
“Yeah” I sighed. “I shouldn’t want to see them, but I do.”
“I guess I could show them to you.” she said. “I mean I’m supposed to.”
“I wouldn’t want to see them unless you wanted me to.” I said. “But I’d like to see them.
She turned her back to me and gripped the bottom of her shirt. I got two shots of that shirt coming off and her naked back becoming visible. She looked over her shoulder at me and I made her hold that pose as I took another shot.
“I shouldn’t show you” she said.
“You’re too young” I agreed.
She turned rapidly, like she wanted to do it before she lost her nerve. I got a glimpse of nipples that were colored with the same purple lipstick that was on her lips. Then she covered her breasts with her hands. She looked vulnerable and I took a picture. It would have been priceless.
“You shouldn’t look” she said. Then she dropped her hands.
“Beautiful” I sighed. “I knew they’d be beautiful.”
“Really?” her voice rose. “Aren’t they too small?”
“Gorgeous.” I affirmed. I told her to put her hands on her hips, like she was cross with me for looking. When she did she blurted out “Daddy! Quit looking at me like that! Daddies are not supposed to look at their daughters like that.” I took a picture.
She was getting more comfortable. “Daddy, I’m undressing! You shouldn’t even be IN here!” she complained.
“I know honey” I said. “But you’re just so beautiful I can’t help myself.”
“I’m going to take off my skirt now Daddy, and you have to leave!” she said. Her hands went to the zipper on the side of the skirt.
“OK baby” I said. “I’ll leave.”
She pulled the zipper down and worked the skirt down over hips that were a lot curvier than I thought they’d be. The thong was purple too. I took a picture.
“DADDY!” she barked. “I thought you were leaving!” She turned around and bent over to unbuckle one of her high heels. Her ass was wonderful, tight, round, soft looking. I took a picture of it.
She took off both shoes and turned around again. She didn’t look nervous any more. “I’m going to take my thong off Daddy” she warned. “You’d better not look.”
“I promise” I said.
She left that wisp of purple cloth lying on the floor and stood back up, still facing away from me and still looking over her naked shoulder. She still didn’t look like Jill, but she was a beautiful woman. I took another photograph.
“You’re so bad Daddy” she scolded, crawling on the bed, with her ass facing me again. “You shouldn’t be taking pictures of me naked Daddy. What would people think?”
“I’m not going to tell anyone about these pictures, baby” I said.
“Oooo, OK then.” she said and she rolled, opening herself up to me.
I doubt if any of the pictures I took came out, because I was shaking by then.
She spread her legs and I could see they’d worked on her pussy too. That hair was now blond, the same blond as her head, and the hair had been shaved to the shape of a heart.
“What’s the matter Daddy? Pussy got your tongue?” she cooed at me, shoving her pussy up in a fucking motion. She might be slow to get into this game, but once she was in she played for keeps.
“Not yet” I said. And then I dropped the camera on the bed and dove for her open thighs. I stuck said tongue in said pussy, and sucked.
“EEEK” she squealed “DIRK! NOOOOOO DIRK!” I guess I had gone too fast, because her hands were pushing hard at my head, trying to dislodge me. I slid upwards and found her clit and sucked on that.
“OHHHhhhhh Dirk!” she moaned and her fingers quit pushing, then played with my hair as I twiddled her clitty with my tongue, then started pulling as I sucked it again. “Ohhhh Dirk, oooooSHIT! Nobody’s ever done that to me before” she moaned.
Once I was sure she was enjoying it, I eased off and licked for a while, just touching her sexually, not trying to get her off or anything. I kissed up her belly and around her breasts and she started making the same sounds she made when she read Bob’s stories. I finally reached a nipple and sucked on that for a while and she started writhing. It turned out the lipstick was flavored.
I kissed up to her throat and she arched her neck so I could get to her. I was right by her ear so I tried talking to her. Some women like that. “It’s good nobody’s sucked my baby girl’s pussy” I whispered. “Cause I wanted to be the first.” She sighed and pulled at my head to get a kiss. This was the first time our lips had touched, but you couldn’t tell it by the way she kissed me. She was all loose, warm and wet lips and she “Mmmmm”ed as she did it. I went back to her other nipple and bit it gently.
“Have you let the boys play with your nipples Jill? On dates?”
“Ohhh yes” she moaned as I sucked. “I’m sorry Daddy.”
“That’s bad” I whispered to her nipple as I kissed back up to her ear. “Daddy wanted to be the first to suck your nipples too.”
“Ohhhh Daddy” she moaned. I slid my hand down her flat belly and her hips jerked. I stopped my finger just above her clit and then, very slowly started it going down again as I whispered right in her ear.
“Have you let the boys touch you here?” I pressed my finger into her skin and circled her clit.
“Mmmm just once Daddy” she mewled. “I made him stop.”
“How about here?” I slid my finger into her pussy. She was wet, so I sent it all the way to her cervix. She was definitely a virgin. She groaned and her hips jerked again. “Did you let the boy do that?”
“Noooooo Daddy” she panted. “He wanted to but I told him no.”
“But you won’t tell Daddy no, will you sweetie?” I wiggled the finger, sliding the tip around her cervix and then pulling it out a little.
“Nooooo” she moaned. “Daddy doesn’t have to stop. I like it when Daddy does it.”
I kissed her some more and brought her off with my finger. I did it gently, letting her build and take her time. There was a point where she wanted to go fast and grab the orgasm she could feel just around the corner. Her hand grabbed mine and she tried to speed me up, but I wouldn’t let her. Instead I sucked a nipple into my mouth again and started biting it, then sucking it, then biting it a little harder. She was making nonsense sounds … “Uh” and “Nng” and “Oww” and her hips were moving in a disjointed irregular fashion.
“Baby wants to cum, doesn’t she?” I whispered in her hair.
“Yeeeaahhhhhhh” she moaned.
I pressed the base of my hand against her clit and rimmed her cervix again and she gave a shudder and a long drawn out sigh as her whole body stiffened and then just went limp. I knew a woman could be ultra sensitive at that point, so I stopped moving my finger in her and just let it be there. I kissed her cheek and her head rolled so her blue looking eyes were just inches from mine.
“Was that nice?” I whispered.
“Ohhh yes” she said and wanted a kiss. While I was kissing her I pulled that finger out. Her girl goo had almost stuck it in there. I left my hand cupping her sex.
She let the kiss go and let her head sink back. I decided to try.
“Daddy’s prick would feel even better.” I said.
She rolled her head and said “I’m scared.” Then, oddly, “Can I see it?”
I got up and she sat up, turning so her feet were on the floor. She seemed to be comfortable naked. As I started to drop my drawers she said “Wait. Let me.” I walked up to her and she put her hands on my hips, feeling the cloth.
“I love silk” she breathed, running her hands around to my ass and then to the front, where she felt my dick through the slick cloth. Now I knew why Julie had insisted I wear silk.
Finally she started pulling them down. “I’ve never done this before.” she said, pulling slowly, as if she were trying to make it last. “I’ve never looked at one like this.” The waistband cleared the tip of my cock where it was bent down and it flopped upward. She jerked and her hand stopped.
“Oh my” she sighed. “I didn’t think it would be like … that.” She stared at it, and then at my balls, which were nice and full by now. Finally she pulled on the shorts until they got to my knees and fell free. I stepped out of them. Her hand came up and touched my cock. I flexed my muscle and it bobbed. She giggled and grasped it firmly.
“Linda said I could kiss it.” she said, as if in explanation.
“Linda is very wise” I said whole heartedly.
Then she leaned forward and kissed the tip. She leaned back and licked her lips. Then she looked up at me and blushed. “I never did that either.” She must have liked it, because she did it again. And then again several times, letting her lips open and letting more and more of the tip into her mouth each time.
I finally began to figure out how her mind worked. She wanted to do things, but was afraid to, but if you gave her space, she’d talk herself into doing them, little by little. You couldn’t push her, because that fed the fear. I’d gotten away with my surprise assault on her pussy, but probably only because it had felt so good immediately. The bottom line was, that if I wanted my cock in her pussy, I’d have to wait until she put it there.
And by now … I wanted my cock in her pussy.
So I let her talk herself into putting my cock in her mouth … all the way in her mouth. I let her know she was making me feel wonderful, saying things like “Oooo I like that.” and “Mmmmm that feels sooo good baby.” I didn’t touch her head with my hands. I just let her do what she wanted to do.
She didn’t have enough experience to know how to bring me off, but it felt really good. Eventually she got tired and looked up at me. “You aren’t cumming.” she pouted a little.
“I don’t want to cum in my baby girl’s mouth.” I said gently.
“Why not?” she asked, clearly thinking she hadn’t done a good enough job.
“Cause I want to save it for my baby girl’s … pussy.” I whispered.
Her eyes got big and showed white on all sides and she gasped. “On nooo Daddy, you can’t … it would never fit in me.” she whispered back. Her hand was still on it and she squeezed.
“Why don’t you get on top of Daddy” I suggested. “You can rub on Daddy for a little while and make yourself feel good. You don’t have to put it in at all, Baby.”
I crawled over her right leg and lay down on the bed. My left hip touched her butt as she twisted to look at me over her left shoulder. “I don’t have to put it in me?” she whined.
“Not unless you want to.” I said. “Daddy’s just going to lie here and let his little girl lie on top of him. Maybe we’ll just hug a little.”
She stood up and looked at me. My cock was now lying on my stomach, long and firm and leaking a little. I put my hands behind my head, just relaxing … naked.
She was definitely breathing harder now. I could see her lust working on her. Her nipples were stiff and darker purple than the lipstick was and she moved from foot to foot. She crawled on the bed and straddled my knees. Then she crawled upward, looking down at her pussy and my cock, until her pussy was right over it. Her head rose and she looked at me, desire in her eyes, but fear too. Then she looked back at her pussy and, very slowly, she let her pussy down to touch the bottom of my cock. She was so wet she actually dripped on my cock. When her pussy lips touched it she moaned and collapsed on my chest.
I hugged her and kissed her hair, saying “It’s OK, nobody’s going to hurt you.” She looked up at me and there were tears in her eyes. I said it again. “Nobody’s going to do anything to you baby.”
We lay there like that for so long that I thought maybe she had fallen asleep. It was nice. But then I felt a distinctive thrust of her mons against my dick. She pressed her clit onto my rigid tube and then dragged her clit along it. She took it too far and her pussy mouth slipped right over the head of my cock. When she pushed back down, it lodged in her pussy mouth and she froze. She lay like that for a long time too, but she was so tense that I knew she wasn’t just lying there.
Finally she raised her face and looked me in the eyes.
“Dirk, I want you to fuck me.”
She was lying. I knew she was lying. It was in her eyes. She was scared to death.
“No.” I said.
Her eyes widened. “But … they said … Julie said you’d fuck me.”
“I’d love to make love with you” I said. “But I won’t just fuck you.”
She looked confused. “I WILL let you fuck me.” I added.
I saw her pupils dilate just before I felt her body relax. I told her “If you want it in you, you’re going to have to push. It’s probably going to hurt.”
“I’m so scared” she moaned.
“Then don’t do anything.” I soothed.
“But I want to feel it.” she moaned.
“Then push.” I said.
It was typical of her psyche that she didn’t just push. Instead she took a breath, sat up, raised her pussy up by squatting over me and grabbed my cock to line it up with her pussy. “Help me” she said tersely. She couldn’t see to get things into line because her back was straight up and down.
I put my hand on hers and moved it until my cock was under her pussy. “Down a little” I said.
She sagged and my cock tip slid between her virgin lips. She sucked air loudly. Her hands went to my chest and I had a horrible feeling she was just going to slam down.
So I left my hand there, gripping my cock. There were only a couple of inches sticking out when she did exactly what I had suspected.
In the space of two seconds, and two inches, and two gasps of obvious pain, her cherry was destroyed. She hit my hand and her eyes jerked to mine. “What …?” she asked.
“Don’t go too fast” I warned her.
But once she made up her mind to do something, there was no going back. “NO!” she yelled. “I WANT this.”
So I took my hand away. And then she dropped like a rock.
It is impossible for a man to describe the feel of a virgin pussy around his cock. Tight doesn’t describe it. Hot doesn’t describe it. There’s nothing else in the world like it. There is almost pain associated with it, especially when there is a groan of pain torn from HER throat as she receives her first hard prick.
Jill fell forward, writhing and moaning. “OOoowwww, it HURTS Dirk” she cried. I stroked her back and sides. There wasn’t anything else I could do.
“Get off of it, silly.” I said in her ear.
“NO!” she said stubbornly. She pushed herself back to a sitting position. “SHIT!” she groaned. “It feels like a baseball bat!”
I reached up and pinched both her nipples. She sucked air again. “OW!” she yipped. Then “OH! Do that again!” I did it again, but this time not so hard. I rolled them between my fingers.
“Ohhhoooooo” she sighed. “That’s better.” She lay back down. “It still hurts you bastard, but it’s better.”
“Hey, I’m just lying here.” I defended myself.
She pulled herself off of me a little and then pushed herself back onto me. She did that again. One of those little sounds popped out. She sat back up. “Do my nipples again.” she ordered. I did and she began rocking, and I knew we were home free.
She rocked for a while, still wincing once in a while, but her pussy started getting less tight and she started making more of those nice noises. She lay down on me again, and this time she wanted to be kissed. She wanted those long tongue swapping kisses that make me hard as rock. Usually I want to cum, and I have to keep myself from doing it too soon, but, for some reason, when I was in Jill I just wanted to be … in Jill. I think it was knowing that this was the first penis to split her open, and that, if I did this right, she would never ever forget me, even if this one time was all we ever did it.
So I talked to her, telling her how beautiful she was, and how sexy she was, and how good she felt wrapped around my prick, and how good her lips tasted … just things that any woman would like to hear. And she moved a little faster, and sat up a little longer until she was making hard thrusts backward and forward, tugging at my cock like she was trying to pull it free. She was panting and gasping for breath and she started saying my name, over and over, with an “Ohhh” thrown in sometimes. She was looking up at the ceiling when I felt her pussy flutter all around my cock and then it squeezed … tight … like a vise and she took in this huge breath. Her head dropped and her eyes locked with mine. Her hands were on my chest, close together, and that meant her upper arms had pushed her breasts together and she was staring down past them at me and it was just the most amazing erotic sight I had ever seen.
And as wild as she had been building up to her orgasm, when she actually had it she didn’t make a sound other than a long, drawn out “Ohhhhhhhhhhh” as she stared at me, never blinking. But her body was stiff as a board and her pussy was going wild inside, and it was moving and rippling and squeezing something fierce.
I just let her have her fun, staring back at her.
She blinked about the same time her pussy relaxed, and then her tense muscles relaxed too and she sagged a little.
“You OK?” I asked.
She blinked again and said “I think I love you.”
I smiled. “You may change your mind later. It’s OK if you do.”
She smiled too. “Is it always like that?” she asked.
“Sometimes it’s lots better.”
“No way” she said firmly.
I reached up and cupped her breasts. “Would you like to feel that again?”
“Ohh yes” she sighed.
“Can we roll over? Can I get on top of you?”
She blinked. Her pussy squeezed my cock. “You’re still hard! Didn’t you …?”
“No” I said. “I wanted to make sure you got what you needed.”
Something passed through her eyes. “Julie said you’d be like that.”
“What’s a Daddy for?” I asked.
She leaned over and kissed me. “I don’t need Daddy any more. I like Dirk just fine.” I kissed her back. Then she got a funny look on her face. “Well, maybe sometimes I’ll need Daddy. Daddy was lots of fun. Wait just a minute.”
She hopped off of me like I was a pony and she needed to go get something she had forgotten. And, in fact, she left the bedroom and came back with her purse, which she’d left on a chair in the living room, as I recalled. She sat down on the edge of the bed and peered into the depths of her purse.
She put a hand in and came our with four or five condoms in her hand. She looked at them and tossed them away. They landed on the floor and scattered. Then she reached in and came out with her fist stuffed with foil packets, each of which contained a rubber of one brand or another. They too went flying. Finally she dumped her purse, right beside me on the bed. There must have been two hundred condoms in that thing. She made quick little flicking movements with her fingers and they ALL ended up on the floor. All that was left was her billfold, a couple of tubes of lipstick, a pack of Kleenexes, and her glasses.
She put her glasses on and peered into the empty purse. Then she stuffed her billfold, lipstick and Kleenexes into the purse and dropped it on the floor.
“I would have sworn I had a condom in that purse.” she said. “Oh well.”
Then she rolled over me, landing on her back and pulling me with her until I was on top of her. Her hand went down and grasped my prick … firmly.
“Are you going to put that nasty thing in me … Daddy?” she said in a high and unnatural voice.
“Yes I am, little darlin” I drawled. “And I’m going to FUCK you with it too!”
“Eek!” she squealed.
“And I’m going to squirt in you!”
“Oh noooo” she whined, pushing at my chest with her other hand, just hard enough that I could feel it. Her other hand brought my cock to her portal.
“And it’ll probably KNOCK you UP with TWINS!” I growled. I gave her two inches.
“Nooooo not TWINS” she shrieked softly. Her pussy jumped up off the bed and gobbled up the rest of my cock as I slammed down into her.
She winced as the tip of my cock dug into her cervix. I eased back immediately and stopped, to let her get used to being so full.
She looked up at me and said “Don’t you stop you incestuous bastard. If you do you’ll NEVER hear the word ‘Daddy’ from my lips again.”
Well, it was all slobber and splash after that. I did fuck that girl and I fucked her long and hard. She didn’t know what to do with her legs or her arms, but her pussy sure knew what it wanted. I felt that flutter of her pussy twice before it was time for me to make a decision.
“Jill honey” I panted. “I’m, gonna cum now baby.” I gasped. “I’ll pull out if you want me to.”
She looked up at me through glasses that were knocked slightly askew and, in the most normal voice, said “Damn, where’s a condom when you want one?” Then I felt her hands on my ass, pulling me into her.
I came like it was I who was the virgin. It was one of those orgasms where all you CAN feel is the sexual activity going on in your body. Somebody could be shoving an ice pick in your thigh and you wouldn’t know it until the orgasm was over. My cock spat and what I knew was a stream of slippery semen shot out with a force that would have killed a fly at three paces. I felt like part of my body crawled through my prick and took up residence in her belly. Then there were four more of those fabulous splattering jolts of my seed, suffusing her pussy and flowing into her womb and then, having ho place else to go, squirting out of her pussy around the base of my cock, making both our pubic areas messy and sticky.
We sloshed as I continued trying to fuck her, even though my cock knew I was done.
My eyes had been closed and when I opened them she was staring at my face like I was some kind of alien monster.
“Wow” she said softly. “Are YOU OK?” Then she giggled.
We must have cuddled for three hours. I was so thoroughly depleted that she couldn’t get it back up even when she took it in her mouth and sucked on the whole thing. In the end she flopped down on my arm and played with the hairs on my chest. At one point I asked her if she was sorry she’d given up her virginity.
She looked at me, very seriously, and said “I think I did the right thing.”
“You think” I said.
“It all depends on whether it’s OK for me to love you.” she said, still serious.
“Love is a good thing.” I said, not knowing exactly where this was going.
“And what if I fall in love with you?” she asked, still playing with my chest hair.
“I really AM old enough to be your father.” I said.
“I don’t think I care about that.” she said.
This is a not uncommon feeling for a virgin to have toward the guy who divested her of her virginity … if he wasn’t an asshole about it. So I put her off gently. “Well, tell you what. Give it some time. Let’s see how you feel about things in, say, six months.”
“OK” she said simply, and lay her head down on my shoulder.
She stayed there until she was able to get me hard again. Then she didn’t want me hard any more, so she rode me again until she made me soft again. Women … never satisfied!
It was just as glorious the second time as it had been the first.
Well, that’s pretty much the story. We kept reading stories at that website, and there were a lot of good ones that got me laid. But whenever we read one by Beating Off Bob, I KNEW I’d be getting a visit from whichever girl was the closest to the girl we read about in his story. Sometimes I was a brother, or a father, or an Uncle. And, once in a while I was a nephew or a cousin. There were even some times when I was just plain Dirk.
And it was Jill who got a tattoo, not Linda … well not then. I finally got to use that razor I bought expecting Jill to ask me to shave her. She let me do the shaving before she went to the tattoo parlor.
We even wrote to B.O.B. and told him our tale. He wrote back and said it sounded like it might make a good story. Who knows, he might even write it some day. Yeah … right … he couldn’t do it justice if he had help.
Oh yeah, you might want to know what happened with Jill. It turned out she really WAS in love with me! Imagine that, a fresh young girl, with her whole life ahead of her, settling for a geezer like me. Of course the baby might have had something to do with it. She missed her first period three months after she gave me her virginity and left my bedroom floor covered in unused condoms. Linda and Julie had given them all to her as a joke, but they expected her to use at least one of them.
And so, there was a wedding. Linda was Jill’s Maid of Honor, and Julie walked her down the aisle and gave her away. Turned out her parents had disowned her when she refused to marry the boy they thought she should marry when she graduated from High School.
You know how the bride gives her entourage a gift? For participating in the wedding? Guess what Jill gave them. You’ll never see them, of course, but each one has a one inch tattoo of a fire breathing dragon, just like the one my new bride has. That dragon fire is about an inch from those fire hot pussies, and they just look nasty, if you know what I mean.
I know they got them, because I’ve seen them. All three of them lined up and showed them to me at the wedding, those dirty girls.
They don’t come off when you get them wet either. At least not wet with a tongue.
I know that, because I tried.