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Bad Boy by Adam Gunn Reggie was a bad boy. I knew it when he sent me that sex on the beach in the bar, I knew it when he groped me for the first time in the hallway by the men’s room, I knew it when I left with him. My girlfriends were astounded, they never thought I’d do anything like that. I was a year out of my marriage, hadn’t dated in all that time, refused any and all lines that were tossed my way. The sex that night was fantastic! We went to his place, and he knew his way around my body as if he’d had it marked on his cell phone’s GPS. I came, and came again, and again! He didn’t do anything fantastic (that first night!) just oral and then a couple of different positions. But there was something about the way he grabbed at my tit, or stuck a finger in, that really, really!, turned me on. After we were done, a couple of hours of it, he drove me back to my car, I remember thinking that it had probably been a one-night stand, that I’d never hear from him again. And even though my lady bits throbbed the next day, I wasn’t that disappointed. It was just the spur of the moment, I figured. Then I got the text. Very casual, ‘How ru doing - had a great time do it again” I had to stifle myself before I texted back, a couple of very long hours later, ‘sure’. He picked me up the next Friday night, took me to a restaurant, wine and seafood, witty conversation. A couple of times he was on the edge, the topics just a bit racy, a touch indelicate. But I had no qualms about inviting him up to my place, no worries about leading him to my bedroom. Again, the sex was simply amazing, he encouraged me to try a couple of new things. Well, at least they were new for me. We kept dating, once or four times a week. One night when I was having drinks with my girlfriends he just showed up. They thought he was sharp, but crude. I didn’t care, he had a beautiful prick! But, of course, they couldn’t see that, except when I’d show up at brunch with a big smile on my face. The months went by, bit by bit he dragged me in. The first time that he touched my rectum while he was down there I flinched, but I didn’t tell him to stop - the way he rubbed it just felt so good. A week later, when he put his finger in it, I moaned. And then, the very next night, when he coaxed me onto my knees and dribbled lube onto my second hole, I couldn’t tell him I’d been waiting for that moment. And when he forced it into my backside, I screamed - half in pain, half in some of the greatest pleasure I’d ever had. I still knew he was a bad boy. Sometimes I’d try to see him on a Friday or Saturday night, he couldn’t make it. Once I found a g-string peeking out from under his bedframe, and simply wondered if she screwed as well as I did. I wasn’t in love with Reggie, I was never in love with him. He didn’t mind, he had other places to go on Thanksgiving. I was open to other dates, if Reggie had his, I wasn’t going to be a wall flower when he was out spreading his pollen. I knew I wasn’t ready to settle down again, not yet, but a girl needs to keep her options. On successive Saturday nights I went out with Tommy, then Mike, then George. Nothing happened with Tommy and Mike, they just weren’t my style, but George was fine. On our third date, I invited him up to my place, after I lit a couple candles he got the idea. After we got naked, in my bed I sucked on him. He seemed no different from Reggie, except where Reggie was very animated in the sack George seemed listless. He kissed my labia, couldn’t seem to find my button, I faked excitement. I let him up on top of me, and without much ado there he was, fully buried. He just wanted to thrust, in and out, I tried to raise myself, change the placement of our legs, but it didn’t do much good. Perhaps five minutes after he started I felt him come. I let him cuddle a little bit, thinking the second time around would be better, but he talked about having to work in the morning, (on a Sunday?) and then he had his clothes on and was out the door. I was prepared to duck his calls for another date, was spared when he never phoned me again. Reggie brought a camera into the bedroom. Actually it started when he took pictures with his phone of me in the shower, I found I liked the way my body looked, although my teats are too small and my hips too broad, somehow it made a pleasing picture. I let him coax me the next night, I stripped for the camera, let him continue clicking as he made love to me - I never realized my face contorted that much as I orgasmed. Of course that was followed by the installation of a webcam in my bedroom. I let Reggie record one of our sessions, he promised me he’d never let anyone see it without my permission. I thrilled to see my body being used on my television screen, it was more erotic than the anonymous porn we’d been watching. And then, during our phone sex sessions, I roused when the amber light on the webcam began blinking, and I knew Reggie was watching me bring myself off. Of course, I was always careful to pull the plug on the damn thing when I didn’t want it to be used. The next frontier for me was broken the night Reggie took me to a jazz club - it would have been smoky back in the old days - and in the back of a hall, where they stored chairs, he placed me on top of a table, ripped my panties off, and took me, there and then. I was facing out, as he screwed me I saw a couple of guys come out of the toilet, look down and try to make out what we were doing, as if they didn’t know. And when I realized I was being watched as I was having sex, I had the most delicious orgasm. Yes, I know, I was turning into a pervert. When Reggie found out I was into being watched, he set up other opportunities to have public sex. A picnic table in a park. The car in the mall parking lot. He got a hotel room downtown, the fourth floor on the street, and he pushed me against the window with the street light beating in on us. I caught a guy looking at us from across the street as I braced my hands on the windowsill and Reggie pounded me from behind. I shook my naked breasts at the guy, liked it when he rubbed his dick through his pants. We tried other things. Reggie took me to an adult shop, bought me three vibrators, then tried one of them out on me in the car. Reggie tied me up one night, cut my bra and panties off, then had me any way he wanted. I found that to be okay, but I trusted him completely and thus couldn’t relish the sense of danger that, I assume, is the point of bondage. He loved to watch me masturbate, I loved doing it for him. He bought me a sexy nurse costume, it turned out that I wasn’t into role play. That was okay, he was simply trying to find out what my limits were, it didn’t make our top ten list. Chocolate drizzled over our bodies, a strawberry tucked inside me, of course! Blindfolds (for both of us,) ice, candle wax, I liked it, so did he. A Christmas present were three books of erotica, he suggested I come up with new ideas from them. We went to a strip club, I got off on watching the men watching the women. Reggie asked me if I wanted to come back on amateur night, be the one that was taking my clothes off. I thought about it, I’d love to see a gorgeous hunk devour me with his eyes, but there were too many fat old guys and perverts there, so I decided no. Does it seem that all Reggie and I did was have sex? That’s not far from the truth. Although we sometimes dined together, both in public and private, hot sex was our number one project. I never suggested going to the theater or an art gallery, not with him, a romantic weekend in a bed & breakfast wasn’t our style. One night we were engaged in rather tame foreplay, at least for us, just after the six month anniversary of our first fuck, and Reggie asked, “What would you think about a threesome?” “I don’t think I’d be wild about it. I’ve never been attracted to women. But if you want me to try it, I will.” He laughed. “Well, thanks, maybe, but I was actually thinking about another guy for you.” Now this was an idea, but caution caused me to reject it. “No, one guy at a time is enough for me, I think.” Anticipating his next idea, I added, “I don’t think I’d want to try an orgy, or anything like that, either.” As always, Reggie went with the flow, just said, “Okay,” and made a pretzel out of me. Reggie let a couple weeks go by, then told me to dress as sexy as possible one night. “Wear something you’d be comfortable in if we were going to have sex, but then put a coat or something over it. The people we bump into shouldn’t realize that we’re going to screw until you take it off.” So we were going someplace where we would have public sex. Was I a little uncomfortable with the thought? Of course, every time Reggie tried something new with me, I’d get those butterflies. But Reggie had never put me in a position where I’d been tremendously disquieted, had always listened the times I said No, never lied to me. Even though I was uneasy about it, I decided to find out what it was all about, I could always walk away if I didn’t like it. I had a black fishnet tanktop with panties, and matched the outfit with a leather miniskirt. Reggie picked me up at 8:15, after a forty minute drive we found our way into an old mall, parked in front of what appeared to be an abandoned department store. The windows were blacked out, there was another couple entering a small, makeshift foyer with us. The receptionist was seated beneath a sign that said ‘Club Illicit,’ we were admitted. It was a sex club! I’d never been in such a place, but suddenly I couldn’t wait to discover it’s mysteries. I gave up my jacket easily, found I wasn’t the skimpiest dressed broad in the place by a long shot. Some people knew Reggie - I assumed a few of the girls were well acquainted with him, it didn’t faze me - we dropped into conversations. The talk wasn’t much different from a cocktail party, yet there was this undercurrent around us, one that reeked of eroticism. Reggie showed me around the place, a large dance floor and restaurant (“We never want to come here for the food,” Reggie complained, “unless you want badly fried fish.”) There was a small swimming pool, the few people that were in it were naked, the water temperature was warm enough to lounge. On each side of long hallways were private rooms, some small with just a queen sized bed, others with two or three beds or a couch, perhaps a trapeze, maybe a window that voyeurs could watch through. Only a couple of the rooms had closed doors, it was early yet, not even ten o’clock, I wondered what time things would really get going. And then we happened upon an amphitheater, in the middle at the lowest level were five or six mattresses, three tiers of chairs and couches rose around the center. I knew the purpose immediately! In my mind I saw a dozen or more naked bodies cavorting, I wanted to be a witness in the stands. Did I want to be among the bodies? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t have to make up my mind just yet. We rejoined the crowd in the dance room, Reggie and I began bumping and grinding. I noticed that some of the women were dancing erotically with each other, some were topless. If there was groping between partners, watching them energized me. Reggie and I switched with another couple, the man put his hand on my waist, it didn’t feel like just another dance; I saw Reggie cup the girls ass, I couldn’t bother to be jealous. We fell into a conversation at a table with a very attractive couple wearing wedding rings, the topic was sex. I found they’d been in the ‘LifeStyle’ for two years, were ‘full-swap’ although they didn’t mind ‘soft-swap,’ the woman had started to explore her ‘bi-side.’ The guy felt my leg above the knee, south of the promised land. And then, the invitation. “Would you guys like to go into a room with us?” I knew what he meant, if we did Reggie would make love to the woman, I’d let the guy take me. He was kind of attractive, I admit I was tempted, just a little. But, as curious as I was, I was still cautious. I just wasn’t sure that I was up for that scene. Maybe, I decided, the next time we were here, just not tonight, not yet. “No, I don’t think so,” I answered, without giving Reggie a chance to put his two cents in. “But thanks, maybe another time,” I added insincerely. The other couple left us in hunt for other game, it was evident that they wanted to swap badly. I didn’t mind their offer, in fact, I enjoyed the idea that I turned him on enough that he wanted to possess me. Yes, another time, quite possibly. But I still wasn’t sure that I wanted to ‘swap’ with Reggie as my partner. Confused? Perhaps. But my mind was reeling, things were happening fast without any time to take it in. Since I hadn’t known what was going to happen when we got here, I hadn’t had time to consider all my options, I knew I needed to sort it out. Reggie and I took a walk, through a window we watched a woman older than I entertain two men. The lighting was dim, the triplet was almost silhouetted, yet the acts they engaged in enticed us, as the almost-eroticism of a James Bond opening will. I watched as the women took both men, one in her vagina, the other in her mouth; the men traded positions, I wished I could hear the sounds of their fucking through the window. Maybe, after this group was finished, Reggie and I could take the room over, I thought I’d like it if strangers could watch me screwing. In another room two women cavorted, satisfying each other, while their men sat to the side, both naked, simply watching them. I wondered what the touch, the kiss of a woman would feel like, put it on my to-do list. A peek in the swimming pool, men sat on the sides, both having their pricks sucked by women standing in the pool. For a second, I wondered if they were married and had swapped, then I didn’t care. They were having fun, that’s what sex is all about. We moseyed to the dance floor, perhaps twenty-five people cavorted, many more women than men. A song was playing that I simply love, the bass high, the rhythm besieged me. Reggie and I danced, I leaned into him, he petted me. Another man joined us, he was pleasing to my eye, we formed a troika, I whirled from one man to the next. As one song merged into another, Reggie winked at me, left the dance floor. I could have left with him, instead stayed with the newcomer. As the music lifted us we twirled, and suddenly I found myself in his arms, my back to his chest. He pulled my hips to his, I could feel his stiffness against my ass, I wriggled against it. He enticed me to lean back, I placed my hand around his neck, felt his fingers on my breast, pinching my nipple. Instead of pulling away, I turned my head around, our lips met. From the sidelines, Reggie spied on me, I wanted to give my man a show. I continued to dance with this new guy, sometimes apart, often together. If he felt my ass, I let him, if we kissed, I didn’t mind. It was only when I felt his finger slip into the front of my skirt and contact my mons that I halted. Walking to my lover, I flowed into his arms and kissed him. “Excited?” I asked. “I am,” he allowed, “you are too.” “Hot as a firecracker! What’s next?” I expected to be led into a room, thought Reggie would fuck me then. I was wrong. Reggie led me down the halls to the coliseum, we sat on the top tier, he dragged me to his lap. A couple of men sitting by themselves or with their dates leered at me, their looks inflamed me. On the mattresses below us three women were screwing. One couple was in missionary, the other two women were involved with several men each in various forms of foreplay or fucking. As we watched the action, Reggie played with me, sucking a breast, sticking a hand underneath my skirt, playing with my clit. As I watched the play, my nipples crinkled, I had my first orgasm of the night, puny, a harbinger of explosions still to come. One of the men seemed done with the naked lady he was with, left her. I watched her catch the eye of a another man, wink at him. He undressed as he approached her, with little preparation she laid back, spread, and he pushed into her. “Shall we join them?” Reggie asked. I was blazing, didn’t have to - didn’t want to - think what I was doing. “Yes!” As a prelude, I let Reggie undress me on our perch, down to my panties that I wanted left on for some unexplained reason, and then Reggie was taking his clothes off completely and leading me to the altar. We found an open bed, he stood beside me as I sat, I took his most excellent cock inside my mouth. As I played with him, I searched the stands, seeing if we were being watched. There were, perhaps, two dozen observers, men outnumbered women three to one - this was what they were doing as their wives danced! And I saw lust in their face, I felt some of it was for me. Then my panties were off, Reggie sucked my clit, the first really great orgasm of the night hit me, all shivers and colors. And again the miracle hit. And again, I couldn’t tell you how many there were. In my lucid moments, I could see the audience gazing at my body, my movements. That was the icing on the cake, the enhancement I relished. I got up a little shakily, pushed Reggie onto his back, rose above him. Around me I heard three women and more men in various groans, moans, harsh breathing and screams. I grabbed Reggie’s prick and slid down on it. I screwed him. Yes, I came again, but a piece of my brain kept track of the movements around me, the sights, the sounds, especially the syrupy smell of sweat and sex. As I moved I knew the circle behind me was able to see Reggie’s penis slide in and out of me. I didn’t care. No, that’s not true, I wanted them to see the lewd show, wished them happiness as they watched me. I wondered just what it was that they were seeing, I would have loved to be able to be outside myself, watch myself as Reggie and I fucked. We shifted, I sat on his lap as he dangled his legs to the floor. I caught the eye of one man, he was dressed except that his fly was open, his penis exposed and his hand surrounding it. I winked at him, he misunderstood. He came to us, kissed me, fondled my left breast. I kissed him back, didn’t mind, took the penis in my hand, jerked. “Can I join you?” he asked. I looked back to Reggie, surely he’d heard, and he answered my silent petition. “Whatever you want.” Had this intruder smelt good, I would have let him, Reggie would have moved over, I’d have a second lover. But I sniffed perspiration, the hair of his beard reminded me of rancid bread, I answered, “I don’t think so, no.” I turned away from him, dismounted, played and kissed my primary lover. The interloper left, I didn’t see him again that evening. I played with Reggie, again his member was in my mouth, and then I laid on my back, waited for insertion. Reggie was slow in his thrusts, I appreciated his lovemaking, but - at least temporarily - I was sated, the best of my brain digested the ten or twelve naked bodies around me, each engaged in the same sport. The woman beside me was a heavy blond, fifteen years older than I, messed hair, rings, bracelets, necklace, nipple piercing, and yet enticing. Her fellow waved to someone I couldn’t see, and suddenly another man appeared. This was a Dionysus . I watched him strip, his chest plate was rock solid, his abs rippled. The muscles of his arms darted. And as I watched him slide his boxers off, I saw the prick! Longer and thicker than any I’d witnessed that night - and perhaps I’d seen fifteen already - it was beautifully angry, a shade of amaranth, circumcised. I desired it. Had the man turned to me, I have no doubt I’d have abandoned Reggie immediately. Yet he stayed with the blond, penetrating her, together they fucked. As he used his amazing legs to propel himself into her, every once in awhile he’d turn to me and we’d lock gazes. A strange feeling it was, he was screwing her, Reggie was fucking me, and yet Dionysus and I were making love to each other. I came again, watching his blue eyes, my strongest of the evening. Suddenly, quite unanticipated, Reggie rose above me, strained, and I knew that I was being deluged with Reggie’s goop. I didn’t mind, since our first time together I’ve always enjoyed the feel of his sperm spreading inside me. And yet, strangely, it wasn’t Reggie’s seed I wanted, needed, but the hunk’s on the next mattress. After Reggie drained himself we kissed, but it didn’t seem that cuddling was proper etiquette in this arena, if you weren’t screwing you should vacate, and so at Reggie’s biding I rose, we headed out, our show over. We passed the pool, Reggie asked, “A swim?” “Sure.” We entered, joined six or seven people, I found there was a bank of showers and I rinsed myself, especially between my legs, before I entered the heated water. I stretched my muscles, took inventory. Everything was grand, my skin had that brightness it gets after I’ve been screwed marvelously, as I held onto Reggie I sensed the closeness that exists between lovers. We began to play again, he was soft and I knew that he wouldn’t be ready yet for some time but still he enjoys attention, so I stroked his cock under the surface of the water. He didn’t ignore me, my breasts were petted, my cunt twiddled. Slowly, he gained my trust and got me into a floating position, one hand on the small of my back for balance, the other poking inside me, hitting my g-spot, I came again. Then an excruciating bright light hit my pupils. “What the hell!?!” I swore. “Two o’clock,” Reggie explained, “the club closes in half an hour.” We searched the premises, found our clothes in the stadium, I slipped into the ladies room to dress myself, attempt to repair the damage to my hair, my makeup. On the way out we found cake and coffee, grabbed a plate and cup for the drive home. Reggie wanted to talk, I didn’t. If he asked me a question, I grunted a reply, feigning sleepiness. I needed to reflect, digest the auras of the erotic cave I’d been introduced to. Was it really that active each weekend night? Were there really dozens of women ready, willing, to screw a greater multitude of men indiscriminately? Why had I felt so comfortable joining, leaping, into the fray? And, if Dionysus had made a pass at me, would I really have let him take me in front of others? The answer to the last one was easy, a resounding ‘allelujah!’ I begged Reggie to spend the night with me, he was okay with that. We undressed at the bedside, then I attacked him. Somehow, strangely, I wanted more sex, and as I presented myself for his pleasure, fantasies of the playground we’d left haunted me until at last, completely sated, we slept. Nine hours later, in bathrobes, our teeth brushed and faces washed, we sipped coffee, dined on buttered toast with cinnamon and chatted. “You had fun last night!” he challenged me. “A ball. Yes, it was quite the time! I’ve heard about those kind of places, but didn’t think they really existed, especially not so close. Have you gone there often?” “A few times.” I wanted to ask him when was the last time, if he went with another woman, how many skanks he’d screwed there, but in keeping with my lack of care, refrained. Instead, I queried, “You knew I was the kind of girl that’d get into that when we first met, didn’t you?” “Not right at first. After maybe a month I thought so.” “Why didn’t you take me there then?” “I didn’t think you’d be so . . . easy, I guess. I thought you needed time to settle in. You really got off in the common room!” “You expected me to, didn’t you? I mean, you know how much I like it when there’s just a chance of people looking at us. In there, I could actually see them watching me.” I know I smiled, a wicked grin. “You want to go again, don’t you?” “Sometime. Not too soon.” “Why not?” “I think it could get to be a habit, like heroin or something.” “Is that bad?” Reggie asked. “I don’t know. I just think I should take my time.” “What about that couple we met?” “She was into you,” I observed. “He was into you. He’d like to take you to bed, that’s for sure.” “Do you know them?” “Not until last night. They gave me their email address.” I paused, sipped my coffee. “Can I ask you a question?” I searched his face, looking for clues. “Do you want me to fuck other guys? Would that get you off?” Perhaps my voice rose a tad. “You’re fantastic, you’ve got a great body, a great attitude about sex. Most girls, they’re hung up on what they should do, what they shouldn’t do. You, well, you like to explore. And, you know, we’ve done just about everything there is to do. So, yeah, the next thing, I guess, is sex with other people. At least think about it. Think of the things you’ve tried so far.” I did. There were so many, many things I did now, regularly, with Reggie, that I’d never even considered thirty weeks ago. And I didn’t love Reggie. I was fond of him, I really liked going to bed with him. But I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that I’d ever want to marry him. What kind of a father would he be? So, it was just fun and games. I liked fun and games, I did. So, would spreading myself around be just fun and games? I wasn’t sure. I kissed him. “Let’s go back to bed,” I offered. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The weeks went by. At night, in the privacy of my apartment, I considered my options. I looked up Club Illicit’s website, found for just a very modest fee, much lower than a single male, I could show up by myself, dance with whomever I pleased, I was sure I’d have numerous guys hanging on me, I could take my pick. I looked at swinger sites, discovered many married women wanted to play with other women, with or without their husbands. I would be a ‘unicorn,’ that pleased me. In my bed, after turning off the sidelight, I fantasized; Reggie wasn’t a part of it, the Dionysus was! It wasn’t that I was done with Reggie, not at all. He was perfectly useable still, continued to turn me on. But I began to feel I was ready to turn the page and read the next chapter. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was a Friday night. Reggie and I had a date, he called me up at lunch and asked, “Want to try something new?” “Sure! What?” “It’s a surprise. You don’t want me to ruin it, do you?” “No, I guess not.” In fact, I loved the tension I felt when I was sure there was something new about to happen, I savored it. “What time?” “I’ve got a thing, I’ll be there about nine, okay?” “Are we staying in or going out? Should I get dressed up?” “Don’t worry about it.” This was frustrating, how the hell do I know what I’m supposed to look like? “I’ll see you then, okay?” Asshole! But I thought about it all afternoon. I made it home just after six, and in the living room there was a large pink box waiting for me. I opened the box, read the note. ‘It’s going to be a great night. Wear these . . . Reggie.” Inside, wrapped in tissue, was a satin ebony bra, lacy panties, a garter belt with stockings, six inch high heels, dusky pearl earrings. And a USB with a hours of soft jazz on it. That was it, Reggie was going to have a ‘romantic’ night, something we hadn’t done in quite awhile. I had almost three hours until my lover came to meet me, all the time in the world. I ate a salad, had a glass of wine to relax me. I figured Reggie planned on spending the evening here, I changed the sheets to an ivory pattern of smoothest Egyptian cotton. Then it was into the bathroom. I poured the tub, full of bubbles, and for forty minutes let my mind wander. Did it touch upon a return to Illicit, the thought of sex with other men? Yes, perhaps. But Reggie was there too, the wonderful things he did, the things he knew, the experiences and feelings he cultivated in me. I drained the tub, shaved my pits and every inch of my nether region, save only the three square inches of cropped hair I kept for emphasis. Then I paid attention to my hair, drying it, fluffing my short mahogany locks into their place. I plucked and trimmed my brows, applied eye coloring and mascara. Foundation stick and blush were used, and finally I applied shimmering strawberry gloss to my lips. The mantle clock chimed nine times, that was all right, Reggie knew I was never ready on time. I put the clothing Reggie had left for me on, they were of the highest quality, made my skin feel so fantastic. The earrings accented my outfit perfectly, I could stand and walk - barely - in the extreme heels. I knew I was ready to play the part of the thousand dollar a night escort. I lit a few candles in the bedroom, put the music on the bluetooth. I sat in a chair in the living room, trying my best not to muss, thumbing through a magazine. The article I read was titled, ’15 Things Guys Think When You're on Top.’ Did Reggie really worry about whose job it was to put it back in when it popped out, or concern himself with how (or if) he should move? Okay, that wasn’t doing it. How about a story? I picked up a book of women’s erotica. That was better, it was really starting to get me in the mood. That stupid clock dinged ten times, Reggie was really late. Should I worry, text him? No, not yet. He’d been late before. But maybe I could start without him? Sure! I swayed into the bedroom, composed myself, put a hand in to twist a nipple. Yes, that was good. The music from the playlist soothed me, I let my hand descend to my pubis. Through the fabric I irritated my clit, I was getting somewhere, I was about to push the fabric to the side when I heard a key scratch in the lock. My lover was here. Should I go out to meet him, or wait for him to come to me? Then I heard his voice. “Hello?” But it wasn’t his voice, it was two shades too low, filled with a timbre I wasn’t familiar with. “Hello?” I heard again. “Who is it?” I cried. “What are you doing here?” I rose excitedly, grabbed a throw and covered myself, didn’t know just what I should do. I picked up the phone, ready to call 911. “Reggie sent me,” the voice explained. “Reggie sent you? Who are you? He didn’t tell me anything about this.” “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you knew. Should I leave?” Trying to hide myself, I peeped around the corner to see the intruder. And then, only then, did I understand Reggie’s true gift. It was the Dionysus, the man I’d lusted after at Illicit. How had Reggie known, I’d not mentioned him once, never spoken of my fantasy man. He had the smooth dark locks, the beautiful blue eyes. His facial hair was that perfect length of thick black stubble that’s beautiful to see. His jeans were tight, his tee shirt stretched across that magnificent chest. “Are you okay?” he called. I knew now what Reggie’s plan was. This man was a present, I could take it or reject it. A part of me was completely confused, the other part lusted. “What’s your name?” “Quentin.” I needed time, I asked again, “Quentin?” “Yeah.” “And Reggie sent you.” “He said you were expecting me. He gave me a key.” “What are you supposed to do with me?” “He said you’re a hotwife. Or a hot girlfriend. Or something like that. And that you wanted something different.” He paused. So that was Reggie’s game. “Listen, if you want me to go, just say so.” “Hold on a minute. No, sit down. Make yourself a drink if you want.” “Yeah. Thanks.” “There’s wine and beer in the refrigerator.” “Okay.” I heard his steps across the room, heard the fridge door open. “Should I make one for you?” “Wine, please. I’ll be out in a minute.” So now, it was decision time. Why not? I’d thought about it long enough. Reggie had sent him here, he wouldn’t be mad if I accepted what he’d put on my plate, would he? Was Reggie out with another girl, right at this moment? Who cared, Quentin’s in my living room, and, apparently, he was willing. Why shouldn’t I be? I folded the throw, still nervous. As nervous as a virgin? No, not exactly that. As nervous as an old maid faced with temptation? Yes, that was more like it. Should I get dressed before I went out to meet Quentin? I felt my heart pound, I was sure Quentin could hear it in the living room, it was loud enough. My mouth was dry, there was a slight metallic taste. I recognized the feeling, it had happened that very first night with Reggie, the time I first walked into Illicit. I was ready for an experience! I bit the bullet, strode on those ridiculous heels toward my fate. “I’m Melynda,” I introduced, and shook his hand. His eyes scanned my body thoroughly, taking in each inch that was uncovered, paying especial attention to the parts that were. He was sitting in the chair, I plopped into the sofa opposite. “You’re the woman, the one at Illicit,” he remarked. “You remember?” I said. “Of course. I thought you were beautiful. I mean, I think you are beautiful.” “But you were having a pretty good time, weren’t you?” “Well, yeah, I guess. But you know, sometimes, what’s the phrase, ‘the grass is greener?’” “I understand. Waving a hand across my goose flesh I asked, “Is it still green?” “Oh, yeah.” He nervously sipped his beer. “My boyfriend is playing a game on me,” I explained. “I expected him to show up, didn’t know you’d be here. That’s why I was so shaky back then.” “I guess I understand. I sort of feel funny. Maybe I should leave.” “No, not unless you want to.” I licked my lips, took a sip of wine, the taste simply enhanced the metal in my mouth. Quentin made no move to leave. “Do you want to leave?” I asked. “No, not really. You’re very beautiful,” he repeated. I stood, making sure he could look me over. I felt his eyes examine my body, even though he seemed to be trying not to let me see his lustful gaze. “Stand up, will you?” He rose, we were three feet from each other. “Take off your shirt, please.” As the hem climbed, I gawked at those perfect abs, that muscled chest, the pinpoints of his nipples on the firm skin. “What do you do?” “I’m a fireman.” “You work out.” “Some. A couple times a day. We’ve got weights in the firehouse.” I approached him, placed a palm on his torso, the first touch between us. There was a softness covering the hardness, so pleasant I almost crowed. “Your body is perfect.” I pushed against him, felt my breasts crush against his sinew, in those heels we were the same height, I pressed my lips against his. For a few brief seconds our lips remained as tight O’s, then we relaxed. His mouth was sweet, his tongue rough in my mouth. His arms encircled my waist, I trembled to think what was to happen to me. With him! He smelled good, just the right mixture of musk and his natural scent. After a reasonable amount of time, our hands began to roam, I felt my shoulder blades being rubbed, I put my hand on his firm ass. That enflamed him, he put both of his hands on my back, pulled me closer, I bit his lips. “Do you want to come into the bedroom?” I invited. “Yeah. Absolutely.” On my way, holding his hand in mine, I turned off the living room lights, my apartment was now dark, mysterious, romantic. I sat on the bed, he was beside me, we were kissing again. My hands roamed his torso, his arms. Not one speck of him felt soft, all was firm muscle. I’d never felt a man like this before, all of my lovers had a bit of fat on them; in the last couple of years of our marriage, my husband’s waist had expanded four inches. I couldn’t wait, I put my hand on his loin. There it was, inside the jeans, rocklike, overlong. He was pawing at me, I let him, I needed him to. One breast popped out of it’s bowl, he felt it, the first twitch of my nipple sent me high. “Take your pants off,” I demanded. “Okay.” After just a bit of fumbling, I was lying with a naked man, a perfect stranger, I didn’t mind, didn’t care. My hand held the prick. Yes, I could tell it’s girth, longer than any I’d contacted before. In the candlelight it was dark in its rage, my fingers clutched it, traced the distinctive curve. I bent, took it in my mouth. It was sweet and fresh, and the precum strangely tasted of avocados. The balls were just as large, and in his state were tight and drawing into a firm globe. As I bobbed my head - I couldn’t fit more than a third of it in without hitting the back of my throat - I twisted my hand a little, heard his moans. “You’re good,” he groaned, “the best!” He’d not even touched me, down there, and I was ready to go off. I didn’t need more foreplay, I got my panties down and off, and without a second’s delay, climbed on up. Have you ever gone shopping for gloves, tried a cheap pair on and they were too large and your hand sort of flopped around in it? And then you try on an expensive pair, just the right size, and it feels so good, so luxurious? That’s what Quentin’s dick felt like inside me. Just the perfect size when I sat on top of him and we ground our bones together. Not too large, it didn’t stretch or hurt me, but it filled me up, surpassing any that had come before it. I wriggled, feeling the various sensations as my vaginal sides stroked it, the head poked against the different points in my pussy. When I bent down to kiss him and it was almost out of me, I felt the arched tip bump into my g-spot, it was all I needed, the colors I saw were unimaginable. I fucked him, he held on to me. I felt him fumble with the bra strap, I reached behind my back and whisked it away. Now my breasts were on his solid chest, his hair was tickling my nipples, he bent me and sucked at them, I came again! Nice and hard. Again. I was up there, I did my best to stay there. Through my fog I felt his hands roaming around my body, my boobs, my ass, my neck, his fingers swept through my hair. I assume I was doing much the same to him, I can’t really remember. Then, without much effort at all, and I’m not a little girl, he twisted, put his feet on the floor, stood up. He was holding me, my legs encircled his waist, and using those tremendous arms, he pulled me up, then let me sink again. Oh, it was delicious, I may have blacked out for a couple of seconds in my ecstasy. He led me to my dresser, put his back to it, I put my feet on the top - now I could rise and fall at my desire. Another, and another great come. He wasn’t done yet, he carried me back to the bed, threw me down onto the mattress, turned me over, again he had that wonderful cock inside me. We twisted in our elation. When he had me half off the bed, I was supporting myself with my hands on the floor, I sensed that delicious tenseness that comes over men a half minute before they’re ready. “I’m going to come!” he screamed. “Go ahead!” I yelled back, “Give it to me!” And he did, grunting and blubbering and I felt my cunt being glutted with his cum. And that, too, sent me once more over the edge. I bet, if anyone was listening outside my window, they wondered if they should call the cops. He pulled out, I knew the bed would have one very wet spot, I didn’t care. We swiveled around, faced each other, kissed. There was no cuddling, no downtime, I was amazed he was still hard. Once again I went down on him, he tasted completely different now, sweet and salty. Somebody should make sperm flavored candies, I’d buy them. As I was cleaning him off, he put a thumb inside me, started finger fucking me. Again, it was simply incredible, I had a little bit more of a come. He used his super sized muscles to turn me over, on my back, and I spread for him, we were fucking again. I managed to get a couple of pillows under my ass, tried to move my legs around for just the right insertion, found two or three different ways. I wanted to come again, but I think I was overloaded. I’d approach the precipice, then my body would rebel, the elastic of the garter belt was scratching me. I was done. But don’t think I didn’t like the way he was stroking inside me, around me. Again I felt the muscles of his ass, his chest, his arms. After a while, not too long, I felt him tense up again, knew that more of his sperm was being spurted deep inside me. And then we were exhausted. We cuddled a bit, it was nice to feel him stroke my well used body, to rub his, but there was nothing behind it. I realized I didn’t know where he lived, if he had a wife or girlfriend, even how old he was. “You want another beer?” I offered. “No, thanks, I’ve got to be at muster at 7:30 in the morning. I should be getting home.” “Okay.” I watched him get his pants on, didn’t bother covering myself up - what more could he see? I followed him into the living room, he got into his shirt, I knew I’d miss those six-packs. He found my key in his pocket, gave it to me. Before he left he grabbed me, kissed me, felt my tit one last time. “You want to get together again?” I didn’t have to worry that one out, very quickly said, “Sure. Call me Tuesday or Wednesday.” We kissed, one very last time, I admit I was thinking maybe I should drag him back to bed, but then he was out the door. I sighed, went to the bathroom sink, splashed water on my face, took a long drink. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My complexion was flushed, my hair a mess, my nipples were still hard with the thought of this new lover. I began to take that garter belt off, it was rubbing me raw now, there was going to be a little bruise on my left hip, and then my phone rang. I went to answer it, saw it was Reggie. “Hey!” “Can I come in?” he asked. “Where are you?” “Outside, in my car.” “You’ve been there all night?” “For the last hour or so, yeah.” “And you waited for him to leave.” “Yeah.” I could have been pissed, but I really wasn’t. Once again, Reggie somehow knew what I wanted, needed, and he was right. “Get your ass in here,” I laughed. In the couple of seconds that it took him, I straightened up a little, put those heels back on. When Reggie walked in the door, he saw me standing there, in that garter belt and stockings, and that’s all. “Hi,” he said, looking me over, I could tell he was in lust, even though he knew what I’d been doing. I smiled at him. “I got fucked.” “Well fucked, it looks like.” “Yeah, real well fucked.” “You want to tell me about it.” A command, not a request. “Okay. Pour me a glass of wine, and get your ass in the bedroom.” Before he joined me, I got that stupid garter belt off, but I kept the stockings on. He wanted me to tell him all about it, and I did, from the shock of hearing a strange man’s voice to the positions we used, to the way his dick felt in my hand, in my pussy. “He’s bigger than you are.” Reggie’s voice was muffled, he was eating me. I was a little surprised that he wanted to taste me, seeing as how I was drenched with the stuff Quentin had left in me, but if that’s what he hankered, what the hell! “You want to see him again, don’t you?” “I’m going to,” I announced. “Cool. Can I be there to watch?” “Maybe.” I suddenly understood that I still had things to learn, that Reggie still had techniques and attitudes to teach me. But now I was a graduate student. And then, the bad boy got fucked by the bad girl.