A Promise Kept

As I was driving yesterday, the song on the radio flashed my mind back like the Enterprise going into warp drive. The song, the multi-octave range of the voice, its sweetness combined with its power. Theresa did the song even better than the original artist. It was one of her signature pieces.

I suppose the song hit me so hard and sent me reeling back because like then, I’m in a melancholic, reflective frame of mind these days. Then, it was a woman, too. She continued to reject my studied advances even though I knew she welcomed them. And she did eventually come around. If anything, when Marty knows what he wants, he is persistent.

I met Theresa in a European ski club.  She was definitely a torch singer. Her voice was magnetic, and the fact she had a stunning face didn’t hurt the attraction one bit either. She was English, very solidly built, shoulder length dark hair with eyes the color of Yorkshire coal.  I won’t bore you with the courting rituals, just know that they worked. Which was interesting because Theresa did not screw around on the road. She loved her husband deeply, and was devoted to her vocation, so wandering off the path so to speak was a very unusual experience for her. But for several days and nights that week she did.

Poor Robert! He had recently moved to the West Coast, and now we would see each other and play together but once per year. And here was I, abandoning our traditional pub crawling adventures to seduce and be seduced.  He was forced to come up with his own play activities. Robert, of course, well understood.

Each evening I would catch Theresa’s last set at the Club which would be followed by a wild night of sex and wine in her room. I so delivered on the promises she yearned for and couldn’t find at home. And her pillow breasts, sweet, thick lips, and hungry body provided the sexual respites I keenly wanted and needed. We craved what each could deliver, there, and at that time. All through the witching hours of the dark alpine night and through the morning we would have at each other.

Then I would finally arise, return to my room, get ready and meet Robert and the others on the mountain for lunch and a drink, before an afternoon of hard skiing. At the best of times I could barely keep up with him. His technique and finesse were far superior to mine. But I was fit and my legs were strong , so I  could stay with him and the lead group throughout the day. But not this year. My lack of sleep through the week hobbled me on the mountain. It made Robert’s hearty laugh all the more penetrating as he watched me struggle to keep up. I was the butt of his ribald jokes all through every dinner as he inquisitioned me on what happened through the prior night. My silence and knowing, Cheshire cat smile drove him crazy.

Finally the week was done. I was to leave and Theresa’s gig was up. We never delved into each other’s hearts. We dared not. The most hidden part of our lives and souls were not to be exposed. She made me promise to never try to contact her. It was just too dangerous she said. For reasons I’m not certain I fully appreciated at the time. But I was younger then.

And I’ve kept my promise.

Remembering How To Count – FIVE

This is another in a series of quick snapshots of some very unique, sexy women. You can read the first here about ONE.

It was approximately 5 years since he had last seen ONE. And his relationship with FIVE lasted … well, about 5, too. And that first time, they fucked continuously for almost 5 days

It started out in the usual way for him.  Her looks just stopped him dead in his tracks.  It was probably not a good thing, not a good thing at all actually, that her looks reminded him so much of ONE. She was certainly shorter than ONE, and FIVE’s eyes were a medium brown, not ONE’s hazel. The round face, and the dark, short hair that he had come to love clearly did him in. But she verbally waved off all his advances … was not shy at all in letting him know how uninterested she was. Though that turned out to be mostly bravada.

He sweet talked himself into her bed that first Thursday night. The fucking was incredible. It had been almost 3 months since he had jettisoned his Blow Job Queen, and he had had very little sex since. FIVE’s perfect and firm 36Cs (one of the most perfect set of tits he had ever come across) just added to the sensations he was experiencing. Speaking about her 36Cs reminds him of the picture of her he took the next day, braless in a tight red t-shirt, with her nipples prominent. He must dig around and find that picture!

All during those first days and nights he could see, he could feel, the hunger, the hurt, the need, the sadness, the relief, and then the joy. She absorbed all the physicality he could muster and all the passion he gave. Her need was insatiable, to be touched, to be stroked, to be fucked, for him to be a salve for her to release her inner turmoil. Her need was desperate … she clutched him incredibly closely.

Yet despite what he thought he saw happening with her, FIVE, in the beginning, was like you perhaps might imagine a Gay Nineties courtesan to be. Although they fucked in every imaginable position, FIVE was always … calm and relaxed. The fucking up to that point never seemed animalistic in any sense. It was not until a few weeks later that this dimension was added to the sexual repertoire.  She sucked his cock repeatedly, but he never had an orgasm while she did. She needed desperately to have him cum in her pussy.

That Tuesday towards noon it was time for him to pack up his things and head home. There was one last fucking … missionary …  hard yet controlled. FIVE came multiple times. He was uncertain if this was going to develop as a relationship, but one thing he was sure of, in case it didn’t. He was not leaving without having a major orgasm into her mouth. This was a very hot woman that he dearly wanted to have taste him. It was all he could think of at that moment.

He lay quietly on top of her, still plugged in, gently kissing her periodically as their breathing began to return to normal. He was still hard and he eased himself out of her pussy, then quickly moved up to straddle her face.

FIVE eagerly opened her mouth and took him in. He grasped her outstretched arms with his own hands holding them immobile, and simultaneously began to thrust. The thrusting became faster. Fiercer. FIVE kept her eyes tightly shut. Despite having cum not even 10 minutes before, he knew he was close again. It had been an amazing five days and this is how it/he would finish. The sounds were minimal, the bed mildly creaking to the motion and his breathing becoming heavier again. Then he cried out as he climaxed hard one final time. He grasped the headboard as his release filled FIVE’s mouth. She held it there as he began to relax.

He watched as a trickle of his semen seeped from the corner of her mouth. FIVE sighed in contentment. That made two of them. Then she swallowed. Twice.

He finished packing and headed out the door for the 8-hour drive home. He would see FIVE the very next weekend.


When Marty Has to Make Choices (1)

A pic of some thong choice Dec 21_15Her simple, classic beauty sucks every breath of air from my lungs each time my eyes set focus on her. And trust me on this, my eyes and my total being are focused when I see her.

We have agreed I will select the thong she is to wear each day.  She lays out the choices for me. Blue, navy, red, charcoal, and the purple. This day I select the purple as she has two important functions to attend and I want her to feel confident that she is dressed regally right down to her flawless bare skin. It wasn’t a tough choice for me.

And I watch as she puts it on. Her grey sweatshirt drops to cover her hardening nipples, and exposes just the bottom half of her tits, before falling to cover them all. But I zero in on her tan line and remind her how much I adore the small trimmed patch to her pussy.

“I love making you happy,” she says.

“With all my perversions about you?” I smile.

“Especially with those,” she winks. “You know how much it turns me on knowing I’m turning you on.”

“Noted,” I respond.

As she slowly pulls the purple piece up above her knees I marvel at the smoothness of her tummy. The thong up, she turns for me so I can appreciate the perfect turn of her ass. Gently rounded, yet firm from every angle. The line of her crack gives me shivers.  No wonder every male she passes stares intently as she slips by them, seemingly not to notice, but I know full well she tracks every man’s eye movement on her.

Cheeky_Bum_Purple_Rain_front_dd39f726-aac3-4a9c-8351-cd73ec05a528_1024x1024[1]Yes, purple was a good choice today. Marty can pick ’em.


The Carnality (Part 6) … Learning to please

This is a continuation of my story about Juliet. You can catch up here for part 1 and part 2

and part 3 and part 4  and part 5

We lay together silently, just relaxing in the sexual afterglow.

“I wonder what Jimmy and Liz are up to?” I said. “How much they heard? What they’re thinking?”

As far as we knew they were still out in the small adjoining courtyard, but we hadn’t heard anything. Mind you, we had been preoccupied with our own noises.

“Don’t worry about them. Liz knows what I’m like, so she doesn’t care. Maybe they’re getting it on anyway.” Juliet nonchalantly replied.

“Maybe” I said. “Why don’t we go out and see.”

“No not yet.  Why do you even care? Wouldn’t you rather be here with me? Besides, first I want you to go down on me,” she said.

“Have you ever eaten a woman out before?” she asked.

“Yes, of course!” I said.

This was true. I had. Several times in my young life with a few women. And I had had some expert direction from another older woman in London a few months previous. But I had never been commanded to perform this before. I was a bit startled. Taking orders in the bedroom was all new to me. I hesitated.

“Don’t you want to?” she asked. “What, don’t you like it?”

The honest truth was I loved eating pussy. And I still do.

“Yes, I like it.” I answered. “I want to”.

But the truth also was that I was, at that moment, very unsure of myself. My skills, despite my London experience and a couple of women since, might still be rudimentary. My inexperience could show. And this goddess was anything but inexperienced. My timidity was probably evident.

“That’s good, because I really want you to. I need it. I don’t get it often enough. It makes me feel so wonderful.”

My mind raced. My cock was definitely not ready for a third round this soon, so this would certainly help to keep her pleased. And heck, this would be very desirable practice.

I slid down her tanned, slightly perspiring trunk. I looked at her bush. These were the days when only porn stars and the models in very raunchy magazines shaved their pussy region. Juliet’s was full, dark, and dare I say, inviting. I wanted there.

She slowly spread her legs for me and I eased my head down. My tongue gently began lapping between her folds. I heard her sigh softly.

I continued. Gently nuzzling my face into her cunt I rose to my knees. Juliet’s legs squirmed and her breathing became heavier. The sigh became a moan as I began to share the space with my forefinger. Then my ring finger, as well. I hoped I was performing it well. She seemed to be enjoying what I was doing. Naturally I was!

My feast went on for another 20 minutes or so if I remember correctly. Juliet bucked and cried out many times during the session. She had hold of my head several times, then would release me from her grasp as the waves of pleasure rolled through her. I had never experienced a woman like this … so ultimately sensual. So at first in control, then so suddenly absolutely lost in the passion.

Finally she gasped out “No, stop! Stop! No more!”

It was easy for me to acquiesce. My neck hurt badly. My tongue was very tired. But my cock was so very hard again.  As I released my arms from around Juliet’s legs I crawled up to kiss her. Then I slid my cock into her for one last, quick fuck. She lifted her legs and tightened them around me, her arms around my neck. I pushed in hard and fast and deep. It wasn’t long, perhaps 4, maybe 5 thrusts and I came again with a loud growl.

I was done.

And thankfully so was Juliet. At last I could sleep.

To be continued …




The Carnality (Part 5)

This is a continuation of my story about Juliet. You can catch up here for part 1 and part 2

and part 3 and part 4

I cried out and grunted loudly as I came. Just as I was finishing, Juliet came again … hard, with a thrilling arch that almost threw me out of her.

I collapsed on her and our breathless bodies soon eased and came into synch. I remember feeling pretty proud of myself, fucking this experienced goddess of a woman and having her cum several times. Not bad for a young lad from a small town.

We kissed some, and then, as I began to soften, I rolled off of her. I suspect that at this point I was ready for my well deserved nap. My job was done. Not an unknown manoeuvre for a male.

Wrong! Juliet was having none of that. Clearly my job was not done. We spoke for a minute or so and then she started kissing. Kissing my face. My lips. Nibbling my ear. Kissing my forehead. Then my shoulders and chest. I was no longer feeling lethargic. Blood was flowing.

As she kissed my chest Juliet murmured “That was nice, Marty. Let’s do some more.”

“Give me a minute,” I responded hazily.

“Mmhhmm” Juliet hummed, as she continued to softly press her full lips to my chest.  She slowly moved lower with her tender kisses.  I think I was moaning. When she arrived at my groin area, youthful energy began to kick in. By the time her lips began caressing my cock, I was a new man. She looked up at me with her big brown eyes. I know I was smiling. Then I remember like it was yesterday, with her mouth half way down my engorged cock she actually winked at me. To this day I’m rather juvenile about a woman winking at me. I think it’s super hot! And now you know some of the background why.

Once she was certain I was again man enough for her challenge, Juliet mounted me. From here on in, it was all about her. She rode me hard. Rising and dropping along my shaft. Slowly at first, then quicker. I studied her beautiful face as she began to grow in excitement. First her forehead crinkled, then she squinted with her eyes closed; her jaw began to sag. The tempo was steady for a while … I watched as her body absorbed the pleasure through the rhythm.  I was getting close again!

Juliet could feel my body tense as I neared another orgasm.

“No Marty!” she breathed, “Hold on”

With those words she arched hard and came with with a loud “Ohhhhhhhhh …ahhhhh”

The pumping began to ease off. I could feel myself oh so close. I held it off as long as I could. Then, it was just beyond my power, all control left my young body. It was my turn to arch with Juliet still riding me hard.

I know I shouted and then released into her, totally done.

Juliet slowly backed off on pumping me. Her breathing was coming back to normal. Some soft cooing could be heard. Then she dismounted and crawled up into my arms.

I sighed lightly and we looked into each other’s eyes. I’m pretty sure a wan smile was etched on my face.

“I need to sleep now,” I said contentedly.

“Oh no, not just yet my man.” Juliet replied

I was learning.

To be continued …




The Carnality (Part 4)

This is a continuation of my story about Juliet. You can catch up here for part 1 and part 2

and part 3

As we entered our little courtyard of the house where we were staying, it was clear while Liz and Jimmy were probably getting to know each other, nothing sexual had happened, and it appeared nothing like that was going to occur.  I think Jimmy just didn’t have that sort of energy even though Liz may have been willing to engage.

After putting the new batch of wine on a small table off to the side, I joined Juliet on a small bench. She edged in close to me.  What with the warm sun and her hot body caressing mine, plus the effects of the wine, I was feeling a bit sleepy. Juliet could read the signs easily, and in her soft, charmingly accented voice said “Come … let’s go in my room and lie down and rest for a bit.”

I nodded my approval, and with that she clasped my hand in hers and with nary a word to the others, lead me across the yard to the door to her bedroom. Once inside the room and the door closed, she put her arms around me, raised up on her toes and lifted her beautiful face to match mine. She kissed me tenderly. Not with particular passion, but sexily, softly. My breathing quickened, and I was instantly hard, my drowsiness suddenly completely evaporated.

Juliet lifted off my t-shirt. She bent down to untie and remove the boots and socks I was wearing. Then she unbuckled my belt and pulled my jeans and underwear down in one stroke. As I stepped out of them, I stood before her, displayed and fully erect. Juliet eyed me up and down, smiling, happy with herself.

We laid down on the bed, kissing fiercely.  I unbuttoned her blouse and as she removed her bra, I began stripping her of her jeans and underwear. She was incredible to look at. Touching her all over felt like a mystery revealed. This youngster really had arrived!

“I want you to fuck me hard” she breathed into my ear.

She was already ready, wet, anxious. No foreplay. No waiting. No backing out. No more time for banter.

I climbed aboard and slipped in. It had been about 6 weeks since I had fucked, and I was worried about how long I was going to last. I wanted no disappointments with this woman. This was a gift I needed to keep happy.

I pumped into her deeply, but slowly.  Her legs pulled up to my hips, her heels on my ass, I loved hearing the sounds of her soft moaning. I really don’t remember the time frame, all I do recall is that it was sudden … she arched as she came, with only a tell tale grunt giving it away. Then a long hiss.

As I continued to give her more, I tried to keep the speedometer way, way below the red line. I wanted to increase the pace, my hormones pushing me. But I held back, fearful my youth and relative inexperience would end it much too soon.  The level of her moaning increased … Juliet arched again … and then again. I knew Jimmy and Liz could hear us, but I didn’t really care by this point.

Juliet’s sounds became louder, they were no longer moans, but short, sharp cries. I knew I was a gonner now …  she’d pushed me to the edge and I had to increase the tempo, as I would explode in her no matter what. I wanted it now … she wanted it now … I raised myself on my arms and it was my turn to cry out and arch …

To be continued …




The Carnality (Part 3)

This is a continuation of my story about Juliet. You can catch up here for part 1 and part 2

This was going to be interesting. Was I equipped to handle it?

My friend, Jimmy, and I had arrived mid afternoon. As the conversations continued, it soon became apparent that our supply of local wine was rapidly dwindling. Luckily replacement stocks were very nearby … the village winemaker was one narrow street over and up a small hill. I volunteered to make the trek. Juliet offered to accompany me. Not so surprisingly,  I enthusiastically accepted the assistance.  As we walked up to Nikolas’ home and winery, Juliet tucked in close to me.  I judged her about 5′ 4″. As we walked, she mentioned she was especially fond of men over 6′ like me.

As Nikolas drew our wine from his casks, his wife and daughter fed us cheeses and cakes while we waited, and we all feigned conversation in a patois of various languages … Greek, English, German. Meanwhile in the shadowed reception area I had ample opportunity to drink Juliet all in. Perhaps it was the several glasses of wine already earlier consumed, but I was now far from subtle in my gazing. She was a stunning woman to behold. And both intelligent and well traveled. And lest I forget, her figure was a magnificent masterpiece of womanhood, too. I was longing to do more than behold it.

She, too, began to let down her mask. Every phrase of conversation seemed to finish with a sly smile from her. I was not unfamiliar with women’s eyes following my movements, but typically their glances, even stares, would flicker and dance across my physique, usually ending with my eyes. Juliet’s approach was oh so different. Her dark eyes mimicked a slow, crawling serpent, absorbing the feel of every muscle, each turn and nuance, seemingly tasting every square inch of my body. From her chair, 4 feet away. I didn’t feel violated certainly, though I was recognizing that Juliet was not going to be the usual  fling, if we were, in fact, going to have a fling. Perhaps not surprisingly, my 20 year old hormones were anxious to be out of the starting gate and get a crack at this 25 year old beauty.

The flasks and bottled filled, we headed back to the small house we would be sharing. In fact, that was very much the topic of conversation as we marched down.

“How long will you be here, Marty?” she asked.

“Well, I’m not sure. I need to be in London in about 3 weeks, but I’d like to see if we can get Jimmy a whole lot stronger before we head out. A week perhaps.”

“Hmmm” Juliet replied. “That sounds like enough time so we can get to know each other.”

“I think I’d like that” I said with a wink.

“I know you will.” she stated matter of factly. “And so shall I.”

To be continued …




The Carnality (Part 2)

This is a continuation of my story about Juliet. You can catch up here for part 1

Juliet and her travel mate Liz, met my friend and me at the door. Juliet was a very good friend from their home of the woman in the couple who lived in the house, but the couple had decided to prolong their stay away. They had known Juliet and Liz were coming, and had left a key with one of the village elders.

I also knew they would be there, but was told nothing of what to expect. You think Cindy Crawford is heading this post for no reason? Yes, that is almost exactly what Juliet looked like, sans the beauty mark. The 20-year old Marty froze at the doorstep. Unable to say a word. It was left to my older, more mature, and still sick friend the task of explaining who we were, how the couple would not be returning for a couple of weeks yet, and that the four of us would be sharing this small house for a time.

Juliet and Liz, who had only arrived the day before, seemed to take it all in stride. All part of the adventure, I guess. It was a few minutes later that I began to recover my composure. We stored our gear in the room where we would sleep, and came out into the small open courtyard to chat with and learn about our new housemates.

I’m all about observation and analysis. As I was trying to be discrete in checking out Juliet, I suddenly realized, unbeknownst to me, this was very much a two way street. Juliet was taking charge of the conversation, but at the same time, and in no uncertain terms, it was clear I was being sized up. It’s not that I felt uncomfortable at all. I had spent considerable time in London earlier, and had met and been involved with several women. So meeting and learning about new women, new beautiful women, and quickly was something I had jumped into with both feet. This whole trip I was on was to be one great adventure, and this looked like a new chapter with hints of great promise.

But having said that, I remember there was this doubt in my mind. Clearly she was older, very experienced, and no doubt given her stark beauty, would have men falling all over her wherever she found herself. So I did have concerns with what she would find interesting in a 20 year old, fresh from the road in dirty jeans and tee, with no particular intriguing life stories to share.

But fairly quickly I determined from the stare of those deep, dark, chestnut eyes, it wasn’t my stories or background or even keen intelligence that were going to influence Juliet.

This was going to be interesting. Was I equipped to handle this?

To be continued …




The Carnality (Part 1)

I suspect that most of you might assume (and not without good reason) that I’m only interested in younger women. Much younger women.This is not strictly the case, though in truth, it has been an unusual turn for me to be with women my age or older since I was about 25. Rare, but not out of the realm of possibility. Marcie, for example, was (is) my age

This story is about an older woman. One who showed me a lot. It took place when I was a 20-year old, and this woman was w-a-y older. She was 25! Now I know a lot of you will snicker at that … knowing full well “25” is not “old”. And, of course, it is not. But for a 20 year-old, with still much to learn, an already divorced and much more sexually experienced femme fatale certainly counts as an “older” woman in my eyes.

I have mentioned this village before, a place where I found much happiness. A refuge that is very special to me which I came to through serendipity.

How or why is irrelevant to the arc of the story, however.  I met an incredible couple shortly after I arrived, and they took this wayward vagabond under their roof almost as part of their family.

A few weeks on, I received some disturbing news, and I felt I had to leave. I was hoping to perform a sort of rescue for a close friend, who it turns out, was not that far away. It seems I had found a part of me that was not solely Marty-centered. Off I went, with my new friends to share the adventure. An adventure it was!

A month passed with the rescue successfully accomplished. The rescued friend and I headed back to the village, for what we thought would be more recuperation.

And then I met Juliet.


Mid Week Fantasizing (X) — Of Opposite Poles and Dichotomies

This isn’t exactly fantasizing. It did happen this past summer. But as I awoke with a very hard erection this morning, thoughts of the hotel room came flooding back. Pay it Forward at Joyce Gordon Gallery backside of flier For well more than an hour she had had an orgasm every several seconds. No more than 15 to 20 seconds apart for 60+ minutes. I had fed her voracious need with my cock, my tongue, her vibrator, and for the longest time, my fingers and hand. Four fingers worked best. Pressing her g-spot firmly sent her over the precipice and usually meant a warm, powerful gush into my open palm.  I was falling deeply for her as I studied her face the whole time. I spoke softly to her, I whispered my love in her ear.

There were no words back, only slight nods in acknowledgement, the pleasure too numbing.  Placid, classic beauty shifted through the seconds into a wanton, needing goddess of the feminine divine. She arched, she contorted, her green orbs rolled back. The slightly parted lips revealing the pearls of her teeth rounded into a perfect “O” before the animal groan to her climax. The off white hotel room’s walls surely were over the saturation point absorbing the flood of orgasmic grunts. While one hand pressed in her pussy, my other would gently enclose her slim neck, or circle and tweak her erect nipples. Fingers lovingly stroked her cheek and then could slide down  and brush along her abdomen and drop to fondle along the inside of a thigh. Each light touch of my hand stoked the embers of ecstasy that coursed through her body.

At last my own wantonness began to return. I could feel the hardness happening. I half chuckled at nature’s perversity, the female’s ability to orgasm almost continuously when lovingly stimulated contrasted to the male’s requirement to regroup and refresh.

I told her to get on her hands and knees. She complied without a word and languidly, turned and raised herself.  I moved her to the side of the bed. As I felt her soft skin along the length of her back and my fingers caressed her upturned ass, I thought of the contrast she would be feeling as my steel like erection would enter her. I forewarned of the abrupt change with a quick, hard push down on her back, driving her head into the pillow.

I grabbed her arms and clasping her wrists with my left hand, I pinned them behind her back and jammed her down harder with my right.  Then using my right to guide, I slowly entered her dripping, waiting pussy. I heard … I felt … her gasp. Pumping slowly into her, my erection was stiffening like mad, as though I hadn’t already cum hard several times earlier.

The room held nothing but contrasts. Dim natural light slipping between darkened curtains shadowing the white lovers’ bodies. The young, beautiful, soft and nubile … the old, hard and grizzled. The warm … the cold. The south … the north.

I watched my reflection in the grey glass of the picture across the room. Taut torso, bending backward before each thrust. The act, a physical need as old as the beginning of the species, yet the emotional bond as deep as the human soul can dive. How can these polar opposites possibly attract? How can a momentary union connect and bond two so disparate creatures together perpetually as one?

Her breathing moved up tempo, her moaning intensified. I could feel her as she clenched around my hardness. Cries and gurgling were pushing me to the edge. As I continued to hold her wrists tightly, the walls suddenly echoed with her shout as she came hard.  Two, maybe three, probably four pumps later I, too cried out savagely. I held her, releasing her wrists, with one arm around the front of her body, my head resting gingerly on her back. More whispers in her ear. Then we decoupled, her head safely cached upon my shoulder.

Sweet, soft words and tender grasps and touching. I kissed her forehead, and then her lips Her breasts begged for my hands, her nipples my fingers. The touching commenced anew. The embers inside began to glow. This goddess was far from sated.

I knew four fingers would work best.