Mid Week Fantasizing — The 3some

These posts (Mid Week Fantasizing) are all about fantasies. They definitely are not a documentary of my past actions. More like a potential road map of where I’d like to go … maybe.

A while ago SBW (Strikingly Beautiful Woman) and I were chatting. We talked about how she has a dream of going to Paris. And having me fuck her there on a balcony from which you can see the Eiffel Tower.

And then she has fantasies. Secret fantasies. HOT secret fantasies.

She confided in me about one that no one else knows. How much do I love that? Knowing a beautiful woman’s hot, secret fantasy! Particularly when I’m part of it! The convo went something like this …

SBW: I’d even share you with another woman. But she’d have to be VERY hot. With small tits.

Marty: You’d share me in a three-some?

SBW: Yes, I would. I’m an Alpha woman. But I would want your cum. I think that would be super hot!

SBW: You watching…me watching… I’d like that.

Marty: You both sucking my cock at the same time? That would be hot for me

SBW: Me too. Mmmm…you would like that

Marty: What would you want to do with the other woman?

SBW: I’ve never kissed one. I bet it would be so soft. I’d like to undress her. But she’d have to have small tits.

Marty: Why small tits?

SBW: That’s just what I like. With great nipples

Marty: What would you do after you undressed her? Are you going to strip for me?

SBW: We’ll let her undress me. I want her panties still on. Then I’ll touch her tits… softly first. Before kissing them. Licking her nipples. And then taking them in my mouth.

Marty: What if she’s stroking me while you do this?

SBW: Mmmm…even better. I want her to suck on my nipples. To see a beautiful girl with my nipple in her mouth would be so fucking hot! I’ll run my fingers through her hair. Tug on it. And bring her back up to my mouth. Lots of kissing. Would you like this?

Marty: I would. But I’d need something for my cock to do

SBW: We won’t leave you out. I promise. You know how much I want your cock in my mouth. But I’ll let her suck you. While I kiss her stomach. And make my way to her panties. Inhaling her.

Marty: Is she shaved?

SBW: Yes, totally. I want to kiss her through the lace. Feel how wet I’m making her panties. I’ll use my fingers to push them aside…but I want to keep them on. Then I’m going to watch you while you watch my finger slide into her pussy for the first time.

Marty: You know I love to watch you

SBW: I wonder if it will feel like my own… I’m so curious. And I want to watch your face. While your dick is in her mouth. And my finger is slipping in and out of her pussy.

Marty: Oh? No jealousy?

SBW: No! Because you’re mine. She’s just a toy. I want to taste her. I’ve only tasted myself…I’m so curious.  I’m going to take off her panties. You’re going to take off mine and put your fingers inside me. And then put them in your mouth.

SBW: I’ll lay her down and be on all fours between her spread legs. I’m going to lick her for the first time while you drive your cock into me. I want her knees up by her ears so I can lick her from her ass to her clit.

Marty: You want to rim her don’t you

SBW: I do.

SBW: Then it will be time for her to taste me on your cock. I want to watch her lick me off of your dick. Do you want to fuck her? While I sit on her face?

Marty: Perhaps I just might.

SBW:  I want you to fuck her. I’m turned around so I can look you in the eye while you fuck her. Don’t you dare cum in her!.

Marty: While you’re on her face I’ll withdraw and put my cock in your mouth.

SBW: Good, I’ve missed your cock.

Marty: Then you can taste her as I cum down your throat

SBW: I‘m going to cum while she’s eating my ass and I’m gulping down your cock.

Whew  that was very hot … there was a bit of a break and then later that evening she said:

SBW: I said some kind of fucked up kinky sex stuff

I, of course, reassured her that her words and thoughts were no such thing. They were a fantasy. A very hot one, too.

Previously we had had some discussion on the likelihood of a female trainer she sometimes uses as a part of our potential 3some. It really wasn’t going anywhere because SBW (despite her active mind!) tends to be a little timid in person.

But Marty isn’t quite as shy. I think I may have found the perfect 3rd. My … ahem … Rolodex has the just the one. Her name is Amor Rose.

 

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Small firm tits, 32C, deliciously fit (she’s a half marathoner), and very, very beautiful, with long dark hair. Late 30s. Her nipples are outstanding, large, projecting, and dark chocolate colored. SBW will love her. And Amor Rose will love SBW. And Marty? Why he gets to make everyone happy. A win-win-win.

And let’s do it in Paris. Because that would be le glaçage sur le gateau.

 

 

 

 

 

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Tall Oaks Don’t Tell Tales

I haven’t mentioned Annie in a long, long time. You can get a feel for her here, here, and here.

Annie and I were together for several years. One weekend we attended the wedding of a young man who worked in my office, and with whom I played on a sports team. I was his mentor in business, doing my very best to teach and smooth over some very rough edges. But on the sports field, he taught me the subtleties and intricacies, as he had played this game professionally. So we had become reasonably close as mentor and student, switching roles in and out of the office. As well, Annie had become close friends with his fiancée.

The wedding was on a brilliant July Saturday afternoon, with both the ceremony and the reception at a classy suburban golf and country club. We were all dressed to the nines. I had on my newest, classy, top of the line suit, and if I do say so myself … I looked … ahem … pretty damn good. Definitely rakish. With my longish greying locks, think Richard Gere on a bad hair day. And Annie? With a figure hugging new blue dress, long slit showing off her perfectly rounded 36Cs, and her firm ass, she was every man’s dream date.

The bride was beautiful, the groom dashing. The self prepared vows they swore were tasteful and contemporary. As the bridal party left for the photograph session, we all headed for the bar, which had been set up on a nearby patio. The booze was flowing and nobody seemed to notice the long absent wedding party, as the photographer must have been taking his time.

At this point let me remind you again that Annie was gorgeous. And very much a sexual vixen. Which kind of fit pretty well with the way I was handling myself in those years. It may not come as a big surprise to you either, that after 3 or 4 drinks, Annie’s dress with the deeply plunging neckline and her soft sexual banter in my ear in her mother tongue were starting to get a rise in a particular area of my anatomy. She giggled and taunted me mercilessly once she could see my situation. Something needed to be done! An immediate remedy was required!

Off in the distance to the right of where we were, I could see a small copse of trees. I wondered if they could possibly shield us from being discovered if we were able to partake in some naughtiness. Here at this exclusive Country Club. In public view. Dressed as we were.  I could see the trees were all alone, a bit apart, as no fairway passed close to them.

“Let’s go for a walk, Beautiful,” I said as I grabbed Annie’s hand and headed toward the trees.

We walked about 50 yards. The trees were a dozen tall, stately oaks. Though the branches didn’t start until far off the ground, the trunks of the trees were exceptionally large and I was pretty sure would act as a secure screen from an unwelcome peering.

We found our spot, 3 trees in and to the left. On the away side from the clubhouse.

This wasn’t a time for romance.  This wasn’t a time for sweet talking. There was no time!

Annie quickly pulled down her tights and lifted her dress. I unzipped.

It was pure “Slam! Bam! Thank you M’am!”

Or maybe “I demur! You made me purr! Thank you, Sir!”

One and done.

We quickly cleaned up after the deed was finished. Certain the tall oaks would keep our secret. Only they knew what had just happened.

And now so do you, faithful readers. I hope you will keep my secret, too.

After all, I may want to join the Country Club one day.

Here’s a bit of an update …

600full-alessandra-ambrosio[1]I haven’t mentioned her in I don’t know how long … the very lovely Bella. Click these links if you’d like a bit of quick history on her.   When we met  …  how she can affect me …  and how even keeled she is … She’s not as a young as the girl in this pic, but every bit as striking in her bikini, with deep brown eyes and slim, firm athletic legs.

She has, of course, been much in the background most of the past year. We are still friends, and have always been in touch regularly.  Although I haven’t been, until recently,  responding to her texts and calls as quickly as I used to, that has all changed.  And she is still as stunning as ever. To see that cute, perfect ass in a pair of tight shorts can be overwhelming. I still remember the first time I saw her 5 years ago. How my head kept swiveling in her direction. How I thought she was oblivious to it. She wasn’t!

But over the past month or two, I think she has sensed a change in me. A growing glow towards her.  We have been getting closer again. Daily good morning and good night texts, and regular contact throughout the day. She has been out of town most of the past month and I do miss her presence. There are times I fancy her very much.

I wonder if this might be headed somewhere?

An Offer Not Sampled … Part III Conclusion

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Here is the 3rd and concluding installment of my story about my neighbor Becky. In case you need a refresher, here is part 1  And here is part 2

You have to understand. Becky is attractive. Becky is sexy. Becky is fun loving. But Becky is oh, so conservative. What she was doing was so unlike her! And don’t forget, this was a neighborhood back yard party.

I think I began to sweat. Not for me, of course, but for Becky. If her husband found out how she was behaving, what might he think? What would his attitude going forward be towards me?

I looked around. To my surprise, no one seemed to be watching. The Baptists, including the nosie-parker husband, seemed to have already left. Everyone else was either dancing, had their face in their drink, or were too far away in the dim light to really see the action going on in front of my table. And my neighbor seated beside me, Jimmy, wasn’t going to be spilling any beans. I could count on that. Whew! I’d lucked out so far.

Just then the music changed, and a romantic slow song came on. I can’t remember the tune, but what I certainly do remember is Becky coming around the table, and almost forcibly getting me up to dance with her. We had hands on each others’ hips, which allowed a one foot separation between our bodies. That was good. I felt strange, in that I was quite comfortable with Becky, while at the same time, feeling very uncomfortable. On reflection, I chalked it up to being fine with her, but sensitive to the possible neighborhood gossip. Our conversation went something like this:

Becky – “At last I have you up dancing. I thought it would never happen.”

Marty – “Well you know I would love to dance with you. I just hate the gossip that might come out of it.”

Becky – “Oh don’t be silly, Marty. Nothing’s happening. We’re all good friends here.”

Marty – “Uh-huh”

Meanwhile I am looking her up and down. I mentioned the dress, right? And I know my growing erection has been noticed. We’re just too near each other for it not to have been. I’m not embarrassed, of course, that I have a hard-on and I know Becky knows. We’re both adults. I feel confident she is pleased.

Becky- “We’re good friends aren’t we Marty?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, of course we are, Becky.”

Becky- “Well, maybe we should get friendlier.”

While I really liked where I thought this was going, I actually didn’t like where I thought this was going.

“Umm, maybe you’ve had a few too many gin and tonics, Becky.”

“Maybe I have” her eyes twinkled back.

And with that, we both decided it was probably wise to call it a night.


I thought of that evening 4 years ago as I chatted with Becky on her lawn. How she and her husband split, sold their lovely house and divorced. And now, Becky introduced me to her new fiance who had just driven up.

As he and I checked each other out, my analytical mind began to calculate. Was I wise to have not pursued things? Their marriage was already on the ropes undoubtedly, so any involvement I would have had with Becky wouldn’t have changed the outcome. And she would have been lovely to have. But I would not have known that. When Becky and her husband broke up, I would have had in the back of my mind some guilt, feeling that I must have had a role. So things were probably better as they were.

But then I also thought of the future. A bit longer term. I’m thinking Becky and I are going to stay in touch. Stay good friends. Because the future can last a very long time. And I have a feeling the fiance might not last.

 

 

 

An Offer Not Sampled … Part II

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Here is the 2nd installment of my story about my neighbor Becky. In case you need a refresher, here is part 1

Well it wasn’t too long until I returned to the outdoor party. I forget … did I mention Becky was wearing a slinky dress? I hope I did, because I may mention it again. It’s bound to come up.

As I walked up the driveway to the backyard where the party was still going strong, I saw Becky glance up and watch my approach. A big smile lit up her face.

“You were gone so long!” she pouted.

“No, I wasn’t” I countered with a smile.

She had had the time to quaff several adult beverages by that time of the evening. And in the Japanese-lantern illumination of the late evening, she was positively glowing.  She danced briefly with some other neighbors, as I watched attentively.

She could see I was watching … I watched her watching me if you know what I mean.

When a break in the music came, she made her way over to the table I was sharing with another male neighbor.  Becky was perspiring as a result of he full-tilt boogying and the warm evening temperature. She giggled as she plopped down beside me.

“When are you going to dance with me? she asked straight out. While usually conservative and quiet, tonight the booze had dispatched her everyday caution and professional-level subtlety on vacation. This girl was primed!

I hoped my wink and my smile hid the gulp in my throat I was experiencing. She had lain her tawny locks on my right shoulder as she spoke. Frankly, I was a bit taken aback. We had never been so forward with each other, and yes, there was another neighbor present. I couldn’t (or shouldn’t!) lose sight of that fact.

“Well?” she asked again as her cute nose and grey eyes looking up confronted me.

“You’re going to have to give me a minute,” I answered, stalling for time, for what reason I haven’t a clue.

“OK, I’ll wait for you, Marty,” Becky snickered.

Just then the music restarted with a lively song and Becky rose from her chair and began dancing right in front of my chair. I mentioned, right, the slinky dress? I thought so. At least I hope so, because right at that point all I could think of was Becky in that dress, the movement of her hips, and thoughts of getting her out of that dress.  I barely had time to tun and glance at my neighbor sitting at the table with me, to see his reaction. He smiled and looked away.

My private dancer continued to shimmy … the hips never taking a breather. My eyes were transfixed. Becky pranced, she dipped, she bent over, she pirouetted, she pressed her navel button to near my face. She had my full attention. I had no thoughts of her husband. I’m betting neither did Becky.

Other parts of my anatomy were also paying attention. My jeans’ cloth gripped more firmly. I mentioned Becky’s tight fitting dress, did I not? Fortunately the light was so dim, I doubt anyone noticed my growing erection.

The final installment coming soon!

 

Midweek Fantasizing … The Letter

This hasn’t happened. It’s a total figment of my imagination. I just kind of day dreamed it the other day.

Cassandra came to see me in my small corner of your globe. It was just a quick visit on a Saturday. She managed to stop off for a day on the return trip from some business thing-ma-jig she was on. So I thought I had better make good use of the time I had with her.

We strolled leisurely down by the water, close and occasionally touching, but no PDA. Neither of us are really into that. She was enjoying seeing me relaxed in my village, in my element, where I’m very comfortable.

The mid-afternoon sun was becoming quite warm so I suggested it was time for a cold beer. I had planned ahead. Cassandra thought this was a superb idea and we headed for a nearby bar. The pub’s outdoor patio was lively and perfect for people watching, a Cassandra-favored activity. I knew this, but instead I suggested we find a table inside.

“Why Darling? It’s so lovely outside. And lots of people.” She knows that in my climes, we need to take advantage of any sunshine we can get.

But I was firm … “No Baby, I want to go inside. I think my pale skin has had enough exposure for today.”

“Ok” she pouted, “if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I sweetly smiled. I knew it wasn’t making my girl happy, but I rarely do things without a purpose. Cassandra well knows this, but for some reason she didn’t further question my choice.

We found a small table at one end of the bar. It was far from crowded inside and we had our pick of spots. The pub’s dark wood finishes all around would be very warm and cozy on a chilly winter day, but this afternoon they lent an air of coldness and an almost gloomy vibe. Cassandra was not her usual beaming self. I just inwardly smiled. The server approached, raised her eyebrow toward me, and indicated in the affirmative when I ordered two pints of a local brew.

“Oh look,” I said. “Maybe there will be a group performing” as I nodded to a nearby corner where there was a stand up microphone sandwiched between an electric keyboard and two large congas.

“Hmmpphh. Maybe. I hope so.” Cassandra retorted.

And just as she finished snarling her words 3 grizzled veterans of the 1960s strolled up to the mike and instruments. My kind of guys!

“This could be fun!” I said, hoping to drum up some interest. No reaction.

The “boys” immediately broke into Ray Charles’ “Georgia On My Mind“. And it was good!

The songs began to roll out out in a constant stream, mostly blues, and then some older pop hits. These boys were taking no breaks!

Now Cassandra and I are alike, and at the same time,  so very different. I’ve touched on these things before, but I should also tell you she plays the piano. Classical. Me? I’m musical, too. Ask me anything about the British Invasion.  Same part of the brain I figure … only a different mix and quality of neurons.

Cassandra’s mood was rapidly improving despite the dark interior of the pub.

“The singer reminds me so much of Joe Cocker” she chimed in as she tapped her foot to the groove happening a few feet away.

“Mmmmhmm” I answered while slurping my ale, trying not to choke as I chuckled.

She was correct, of course. He sounded a lot like Joe … a small register higher, and an itsy bit less of a rasp, fewer arm and hand gestures, but the similarity was irrefutable.

“I love Joe Cocker!”

“I know” I smiled. “You used to hear him while riding in your daddy’s truck when you were small.”

“That’s right! How did you remember that?”

I smirked downing another sip. Cassandra was full-on giggly-happy right now.

I told her how I had first been exposed to and got into Joe Cocker, as a young barman in a South London pub, pouring pints while watching him on telly on Top Of The Pops.

The band then did an unbelievable rendition of Ben E King’s Stand By Me. I think this was going to be a Celebrate the Great Ones Recently Gone Saturday for the band.

There was pronounced applause from every corner of the room. The bar was totally full and fully rockin’ at this point. The singer smiled broadly. As the cheering ended, the singer looked towards me. I smiled and not so discretely nodded back to him.

In my mind, Joe Cocker was absolutely the best rock interpreter of other peoples’ songs. He covered songs as well as, or often better, than the original. Think about With A Little Help From My Friends, or You Are So Beautiful, Ain’t No Sunshine, and several others. Including the one that I had prerequested … heh heh … The Letter.

On cue, the piano played the familiar opening chords and I watched as Cassandra’s eyes lit up. She knew what was coming …

“Come on, Baby! Let’s dance!” I shouted.

“Yes!” she laughed. “I don’t care if we’re the only ones!”

This is one thing Cassandra and I have never done … danced.

And we did! My lord she’s a great dancer. Such wonderful rhythm as I twirled her and swung her, as I hugged her, I dipped her. We danced cheek to cheek, we laughed. And I watched the older audience eat it up watching us … the vintage male with a few moves charming the hot blonde babe.  The raised eyebrows and nods of first disbelief, then comprehension.

All to The Letter.

We had to leave. The bulge in my jeans was much too obvious now. It needed to be taken care of. ASAP.

Here’s the late great man himself. This reminds me I need to get one of those hot, black female bass players for myself.

 

A She Devil Stalks

The Cute Eastern Devil has asked me out for a beer. I said yes. She works in TV. No, you perverts, she’s not a transvestite. She works in television!

People think she’s all so innocent. But I know she is not. I can feel it. She’s very young, too. Way, way too young for me.

No need to tell me to be watchful. I have no intention of being careful. None whatsoever.

I know when I’m being stalked. I’m going to enjoy the thrill of the chase. What I mean is the possible thrill of being chased.

My curiosity is really in overdrive.

Midweek Fantasizing … So I Picked Up this Hot, Young Chick in a Bar

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I walked into the bar after my long day on a Monday night in a far off town I was visiting. Just off the highway. Several pickups parked outside. None of them foreign pickups either, I might add.

Inside, the bar had a real cowboy look to it. Even in the dim light I could tell this place was a bit of a dump. But it felt like a comfy dump, if you know what I mean. The U-shaped bar straight ahead only had 4 or 5 people around it, and there was a couple playing pool off to the right on one of the tables. A small, empty stage was further back. Probably used on the weekends, not enough customers tonight that’s for sure.

I sat my sorry ass down on a stool on the right side of the bar. There was no one on that side, so that suited my wish to be alone. I was also close to the tiny, open kitchen so it would be easy to sample the burgers and ribs. Yep, you guessed it. I’m a real foodie, too.

The woman serving behind the bar was probably all of 22. Very cute, very blonde to her shoulders, very built, and sporting a very low cut top. I don’t mind saying my view was going to be excellent. Even when she served the other side of the bar, her shorts-clad tight ass would merit all of my nuanced focus.

Very Blonde pulled my draught while I studied every inch of her. Not much could go wrong with that I figured.

As I lovingly sipped the tall cool one, just for a second I took my eyes away from Very Blonde. I nearly choked! I know my eyes widened. Directly across from me on the other side of the bar, nursing a beer was another blonde. While Very Blonde was young and cute, Far-Side Blonde had short hair, maybe a decade or so more in years, and the perfectly beautiful face that suited the cool sophisticate she obviously was. How could I tell all that from 40 feet in a dimly lit bar? Years and years of experience, my friends. An expertise that has been finely developed and tuned.That rarely fails to deliver.

But, holy shit … Far Side Blonde was looking right at me over top of her beer. No! She couldn’t be! If she was earlyish 30s, she wouldn’t be looking at me. I may have had some looks back in the day, but to her, this vintage has way too many years in the barrel to even merit a glance from such a beauty. Probably watching the couple playing pool behind me, I bet. I turned to watch, too. But no, they were no longer playing. What gives here?

And what is Far Side Blonde doing here? Not exactly her normal milieu I’m guessing. How did I miss her when I came in? You’re losing it, Marty-boy! Big time. Distracted by the shiny 22-year old baubles. That’s 5 minutes of high quality gawking you’ve just squandered.

I’m trying not to be too obvious as I stare at her. Right! You’re not obvious at all Marty, my friend. She’ll never notice.

Wait! She’s getting up … is she leaving? No, can’t be. Her glass is still 2/3 full. Umm … she’s walking around the bar, my way. Gulp, now what am I gonna do?

Oh, whew … she’s going to the bathroom. They’re not far from where I’m sitting, near the pool tables. That was close. Did she glance at me and give me a half smile as she walked by? No, I don’t think so. Your imagination is playing tricks on you again, Marty.

I went back to my beer and took a long sip. Was I perspiring? I think I was. Not only was Far Side Blonde stunningly beautiful, but she was extremely well built, too. Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!

I was lost in inappropriate thoughts of her when I felt a presence to my right.

“Hi there!. How are you?” I heard in a dulcet, silky tone.

There she was … beside me, touching my elbow with her hand. I was aghast!

“Ummmm …. ummmm … h-h-hello” I stuttered in response. I just stared into her eyes.

“I watched you come in.”

“You d-did?” I asked in an amazed voice.

“I did. I haven’t seen you in here before”.

“Um … no … I’m just here for a few days. Taking a course.”

“Oh? A course? What on?”

I hesitated.

“Uhhh … uhhhh … uhhhh … I … for …get.” I stammered

Far Side Blonde chuckled. “Oh, I see. I’m sure it will come back to you.”

“Probably. Later” I added.

“Is your hotel near here?” this beauty asked me

“Oh, yes. Yes, it is. Why do you ask?”

“Because I want you to whisk me out of this place, and ravish me all night long in your hotel room” she affirmed. “Then repeat in the morning.”

“You do?” I gasped. I sat there stunned.

“I do! So let’s pay our bills and get out of here. Now!”

This actually hasn’t happened, of course. But as I was driving home from work, this idea popped into my head. I think it would be fun to enact with Cassandra. Pick her up in a certain bar she is acquainted with. Or her me. Whichever works. Fun to play out, no?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll Drink To That!

Interesting isn’t it? This is my 97th post. To be honest, I didn’t expect to get past 25. I even had doubts about making it to 10. But here I am. Still around.

Today is special for 2 reasons:

1) It’s Valentine’s Day for all you lovers and haters of the event

2) One year ago today my 1st post was published.

Yep, today is I Think You Earthlings Are Crazy‘s birthday.

And it’s been a pretty good year. One year ago I was in a very bad emotional place because of a number of factors. Today everything is very good. I have absolutely no complaints. Things could be better, but the glass is way more than half full. A year ago I was running on empty.

So here’s to what has been a very good year, and let’s have another great one ahead.

And a special thank you for passing by, dropping in, and heck, even reading. And those who make comments, you are indeed a very special slice of your species. I love you all!

Thank you!

I’ll drink to that!0veCE0G[1]

My Addictions

woman-driving-car-getting-sun-damage[1]I’m a bit addicted to working out. I like to keep in shape and a recent test of my fitness indicates I am off the scale for my age. Actually pretty close to off the scale for men decades younger than me. So some addictions are very, very good. But then the other day I pulled a muscle … ow! … the addiction didn’t feel so good that day. Add the nagging cold with sniffles and I wasn’t feeling all that chipper.

The same day I pulled the muscle, Cassandra phoned me in the early evening on her drive home from work.  Her call caught me a bit off guard because it was much earlier than I expected. So all of a sudden, I was feeling a whole lot better.

Sexy women are my other addiction in case you were interested.

Cassandra quickly came to the point that was on her mind.

“Shouldn’t you be slipping your pants off?”

“Umm, I guess I could … ”

“Only if you want to Baby.” she purred.

“They’re off!” I exclaimed. I can be decisive.

“That’s good Baby” she breathlessly whispered back.

Now right about here I should mention that Cassandra has the softest, sexiest purr of a voice you could imagine. With a creamy accent that makes my toes curl with lust the second I listen to her. You can hear the thick honey sweetness dripping with each syllable. She always has me in the palm of her hand with her gentle “mmmHmmm”.

“Is the thought of me and what I want to do to you getting you hard, Baby?”

I gulped. “Umm … yes it is.” I moved to the bedroom and on to my bed.

“That makes me smile.”

That comment got me harder.  I stretched out on the bed.

As I stroked, she softly outlined how her tongue would meet exposed parts of my body. A helmet and its tip were mentioned. How the swirls around said body parts would make me feel. What moist lips along extremities could then do. How her grip would tighten as I thickened.

I swallowed hard.

Then she outlined how she wanted to crawl up my naked torso and straddle me. Insert my throbbing cock into her pussy. And not so gently begin to ride me.

The image was vivid in my brain.

“And I can feel your tits crashing into my face. Oh how I would suck your nipples so hard!”

“You know how I love it and go crazy when you do that.”

I was out of breath … “I do” I gasped.

Now Cassandra and I are mismatched in so many facets. But then, we are matched perfectly in so many other ways. Like her words and my imagination and memory. Every thing she was saying flashed like a hologram before my eyes. And I remembered these things as they happened in hotel rooms in different parts of the continent. The effect they had had on me.

“Baby, you always make me cum so hard when we’re together” I babbled. The bed rocked to the rhythm of my hips.

“MmmHmmm” she cooed. “I know. And I want you to cum hard now, Marty. Very hard.”

“I want to … ”

“Cum for me Marty. Cum for me now.

Don’t you want to cum for me? I want you to cum Marty.

I want you to cum hard. I want you to cum hard for me.

I want you to cum hard for me now, Marty. Marty, cum for me! Cum for me Marty!”

The silky tone of her voice was changing, it’s urgency cranked up several notches. The notes of pure honey were morphing in my ear into erotic dark chocolate, flooding the pleasure zones of my brain, but promising much more than simple pleasure.

“I’m close, Baby”

They pledged wild abandonment.

“Oh Marty I want you so badly … will you cum for me?”

They vowed sensual treasures beyond what I could imagine.

“Please Marty. I NEED you. I NEED you to cum for me now. Please! Please Marty!”

They guaranteed an always with her. A forever like none before.

I lost control. I cried out as my hips bucked and I spurted into an awaiting towel. My body was wrenching outside my command. The spasms wouldn’t cease as the orgasm raged on.

When finally the contractions stopped I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Between gasps for oxygen I let out a hearty laugh.

“It was good was it, Baby?” Cassandra asked.

“Oh, much better than that my love. Way better … Chrisst … I’m sitting on the floor! I don’t even remember falling!. I’m sitting on my ass on the floor! How did that happen?”

Cassandra’s laugh roared in response “What? You’re on the floor? You’re on the floor!”

“I am,” I sheepishly confessed. “Talk about a ride … er … a fall … holy smoke!”

Cassandra had to hang up as she was in bad traffic. But I knew she had an ear to ear grin. A smile as wide as the great plains, the prairie, the pampas. Right that second she was basking in the power she commanded and exerted. The ability to make a Martian completely lose control.

For all you sports fans out there the final score?

Exotic Earth Women – 1  Frantic Martian Males – 0

Yep, my addictions are good addictions.