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Date: 25 Feb 1997 23:58:37 -0500
The THC Adult Text Archive: JAKE.TXT (386 lines)
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JAKE
…End of the part1. To be continued..
Date: 27 Feb 1997 23:34:26 -0500
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The THC Adult Text Archive: JANIS01.TXT (87 lines)
…End of the part1. To be continued..
Circumstance had provided us the opportunity to work together, a collaboration
which culminated in a slick bit of legal craftsmanship which had all the
hallmarks of a jurisprudential masterpiece, at least when viewed by someone who
could appreciate the invisible strings we fashioned to manipulate a sensitive
artistic universe. Raising a toast of some rather exquisite champagne, Steven
and I indulgently acknowledged our own handiwork, well aware that our finest
accomplishment lay in the fact that no one outside the room would ever really
appreciate our delicate touch. If things went as planned, we laughed, they would
never even realize we had been there.
One bottle from Steven’s extensive cellars led to another, and we spoke that day
at great length, in ways our work had never allowed. Working together had been a
great joy for both of us, I like to think, because Steven and I shared a sense of
focus which meant every working hour of those two months had been devoted solely
to the task at hand. I’m almost ashamed of the single-minded intensity that I
dedicate to my tasks, although I know no other fashion of approaching a problem,
but all too often the obsessive devotion I suffer in the course of a serious
project has cost me bitterly, both in my professional and personal relationships.
Yet with Steven, for once, it had been different. He was every bit as
concentrated as I had ever been. With a grin, I might even admit that he could
turn the flame a notch or two further than I. How could I not enjoy the company
of a man who not only appreciated my tendencies, but challenged me to demand more
of myself? As neglected as our subtle monument would be, I took great pride in
knowing that Steven understood. We raised another toast, and again, until the
sun slipped orange beyond the dark wooded acres of Steven’s estate.
Those two months, dedicated as they were to the definition and protection of the
intangible property rights of visual artists, taught me a great deal about a
subject I had really never paid any mind. I understood the vagaries of copyright
in the abstract, and had done the cursory rounds through several great galleries
during my travels, but before that summer, art remained a decorative item for me.
In fact, the work we did with the Foundation did much to increase my exposure
and augment my vocabulary, but Steven provided the catalyst which turned on the
light.
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Champagne had led to Chablis which led to a Chardonnay “we simply have to share”,
to a special unlabelled bottle from a tiny Swiss monastery to a very old bottle
of Scotch and the tenth hour of our celebration had warmed my spirits into a
pleasant sense of incautious confidence.
“What it really boils down to,” I said, pretending wisdom, “is that much of the
work that is being done in this country derives again from European influences.”
Steven smiled, distracted. He put down his glass and leaned forward, his high
brow slightly wrinkled.
“I don’t think we go very far describing an artist’s work in terms of
influences,” Steven said. “There is always an evolution of linguistic terms, so
to speak, but language is a living component of our expression. Substance always
triumphs over form, yet without comprehensible forms, the expression becomes
lost.”
I remember listening carefully, because I respected Steven more than anyone I had
ever known. Part of me had always believed the arts perpetrated a fraud, that a
conspiracy of critics and galleries operated to decide one piece would be
valuable and another would not. To me, a painting was pretty or it was not. The
rest sounded like poppycock. Yet Steven seemed to believe.
“I want to show you something,” Steven said and with my assent, he led me
upstairs to a large room I calculated to be his study. The south wall of the
grand space was almost entirely built of glass, windows that seemed to draw in
the broad reaches of landscape, the small pond, the gentle roll of pasture, the
…End of the part1. To be continued..
said lunch, but that’s a GO-GO place. They serve food, too? He said
not to be late, or I’d miss the show. Oh, well. Here it is. Hmmmmmm.
Nice neighborhood. Nice place.
The sign says auditions! Oh, so that’s it. Auditions for dancers. Was
I supposed to try out? No way, Jose! My shape isn’t going to get me on
stage! I see somebody waiting outside … I approach him … correctly
guessing this is my date.
We go inside, and he whispers something to the Hostess. She looks me
over and nods. Then we follow her to a table. She takes our order for
burgers and cokes. When she comes back, she gives me a 3×5 card with
the number 6 written on it. “Number 4″ a voice announces over the
microphone.
A young girl gets up from the table next to me, and gets on stage. She
is dressed in street clothes. She is nervous. The music starts. She
is getting undressed! Oooooo. Auditions. But she is not very good. I
can do better than that. She gets down to bra and panties, and she is
shaking. Real nervous. She takes her bra off, but can’t drop her arms
to show her tits. The music stops and she grabs her clothes. My date
is the only one that applauds her. Nice of him.
“Number 5.” That’s quick! And I’m number 6? My heart starts to pound.
This time I watch the next girl real close. She is obviously a pro from
another bar. Her moves are quick and sure. My date takes my hand and
whispers. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. But I want to see
you naked.” I look at him, and he has the most eager smile. How could
I turn him down? The girl finishes her act to lots of applause. She
sure did swing her pussy and ass around a lot. Is that what they want?
“Number 6.” I get on stage and look around. Small audience. As I
unbutton my blouse, I watch him. He is nodding and smiling to give me
support. Next my skirt. Oh shit. Pantyhose. Why didn’t he tell me?
I fake it by slithering around on my back. To save time, I pull my
panties off at the same time. My bare pussy is pointing right at him.
When my bra is off, I toss it to him. I know the song, and there is
lots of time left.
The cheers are pretty loud for such a small crowd. I love it. My date
has his face within reach. I kiss him, then swing around and, on hands
and knees, shove my ass in his face. He grabs my ass cheeks to hold me.
He sticks his tongue inside my pussy. Ooooooo. I flip over and bring
my knees way back. He leans over and starts licking my clit. And he
sticks a finger deep inside my pussy. The cheering is tremendous.
“Lock the Doors.” I hear someone say.
He stands up and opens his pants. His cock looks beautiful. But I
don’t get to see it for long. He climbs up with me and over me on his
hands and knees. His legs push mine apart. His lips start sucking on
my tits. Then, he kisses me thoroughly on the mouth. I feel his cock
push deep inside me. The crowd is wild. “Go! Go! GO! GO! GO!” They
are shouting, as our hips push and buck and fuck. The music is very
loud in my ears, and I start my orgasm just as the music hits its peak.
I feel his hot cum spurt inside me at the same time. The music stops.
The cheering and foot stomping is deafening.
Somebody — the manager? — comes over and squeezes my tits. And he
says, “You’re hired. How much do you want for three acts like that per
night?”
–
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Chicago was receding quickly in the distance, its grid of
streetlights fading to a glow of patterned city blocks against the
deep black stillness of the lake. We climbed higher, gaining altitude
on the first leg of our trip across the Atlantic, bound for England at
Christmastime, December 1992.
She sat rigid beside me, hands clenched, knuckles white
against the metal of the armrests. We’d had a drink while waiting in
the airport, and she’d just ordered another from our flight attendant
in his white and blue uniform, slightly rumpled. Cute, though.
Maybe if she got sufficiently drunk she’d relax enough to survive this
trip. I was matching her drink for drink…they were free, after all,
and we were on vacation.
“How are you doing?”
“Not too bad. You?”
“I’m fine. You know I love flying.”
“I hate you.”
She didn’t mean it, of course. Eight years of friendship
couldn’t be cancelled out by a little acrophobia. But I resolved to
be a little more careful what I said. Time was passing much too
slowly.
Three hours later; almost halfway to England. I, for one, was
thoroughly bored and that rumpled flight attendant with the shock of
Midwestern brown hair and mindless calf eyes was starting to look more
and more inviting. In an effort to distract her, we’d been
complaining about our respective ex-boyfriends and talking about the
joys of sex through the last two or three drinks, and both of us were
now horny as hell. That one of us was bi, and the other one straight
only added to our frustration. We’d gotten to that sad point when we
boasted about all the strange places we’d done it, and all the odd
people we’d done it with.
“Want to join the mile-high-club?”
“With whom? The pimply flight attendant?”
“Yeah, right.”
Surrounding us were hordes of British families, little kids
curled into each other, the seats, their parents. All heading home
for the holidays. Not a single lonely man in sight.
“Hey, babe, I got an idea.”
“Uh huh. I remember your last idea. Almost got us thrown in jail.
And those two guys weren’t worth it.”
“This is much, much better. Just think of those poor lonely pilots in
the cabin. They must be so bored, flying this plane on automatic
across miles and miles of empty ocean. I bet they’re just sitting
back and dreaming of a pair of nubile, 21-yr-old college students
fulfilling their every desire.”
“And you want to fulfill their fantasies, right?”
“Well, maybe not all of their fantasies. They probably ought to keep
their hands on the equipment. But we could provide a
little…entertainment? I dare you to.”
“You what?”
“I dare you to.”
“We’re not kids anymore.”
“Exactly.”
We thought about it for a while. As we worked out the
strictly hypothetical details, it became more and more tempting. The
perfect way to relieve boredom, maybe relieve a little frustration,
and forget about the two idiots we’d left in Chicago. After all, we
were single again now. No ties, no responsibilities. And it would be
a hell of a lot of fun.
“You first.”
“No, you.”
“Together, then?”
“Here goes nothing.”
***
Hell of a flight. The typical crying kids for the first two
hours, then, just when they had all fallen asleep, a drunk guy in
first class started complaining about how he couldn’t sleep and the
drinks were weak and the service was lousy. It had taken two
blankets, three pillows and my own copy of Playboy to shut him up.
Why do people think that the life of a flight attendant is all fun and
games? Jetting to Hawaii isn’t nearly as exciting when you have
to turn around and head to Kansas City half an hour later.
The only bright spot was the pair of babes in aisle thirty. I
could’ve sworn the dark-haired one, who looked Hispanic, winked at me the
last time I went by. Hey, they’re buzzing me.
“Don’t worry, Rina, I’ll get it.”
“Thanks, Mike, I’m crashing.”
“Don’t say that too loud.”
“Very funny.”
Hah. I crack me up. Well, let’s see what they want.
Probably just a pillow.
“Hi, honey.”
“Hello, ma’am, what can I do for you?”
“Well, it’s kind of complicated. See, my friend here, she’s always
wanted to be a pilot, and she’d really love to get a look at the
cockpit. It’s so quiet now, we thought it might be a good time.”
“Ummm…well, I’m not sure if the captain would approve of that,
ma’am”.
“But you could ask, couldn’t you?”
“Sure thing. Just hold on a minute.”
Well, Tony didn’t seem to mind too much, since it was so quiet
and such a slow flight. So I brought them forward. Then things got
really weird.
“What’s your name, captain?”
“I’m Tony, miss, and my co-pilot here is Christopher, and that’s Mike,
your flight attendant, over by the door.”
“Must be pretty boring for you up here…”
“Well, we have to check the instruments fairly often – every twenty
minutes or so.”
The blond looked over at the Hispanic girl, and asked, “Do you
think twenty minutes is enough?” She replied, “Should be plenty.
Check your instruments, please, gentlemen.” and coolly, calmly,
started unbuttoning her shirt.
“Now, gentlemen, we’d like you to settle a little bet for us, if you
don’t mind. My friend and I were debating which of us could do the
best strip-tease. We’d like to demonstrate for you, and ask you to
judge, if that’s okay with you?”
None of us were about to object, that was for sure. The blond
came over to me, and pushed me over a bit so I was leaning against the
door. Then she leaned against a wall and watched the show.
The Hispanic girl had long wavy black hair, almost to her
waist, swinging loose behind her back. She had been wearing a sort of
lacy black sweater, but she’d just finisehd unbuttoning it and was
slipping it off, one smooth brown shoulder at a time. Underneath was
a cropped white tank and a long, loose black skirt.
“What’s next, guys, shirt or skirt?”
…End of the part1. To be continued..
I just recently moved to a new city, started a new job, and met so
many new people that I felt very insecure and lonely. About a two months ago
I met John and Debbie through a mutual friend. John is very nice looking, at
about six foot two inches with blue eyes and dark brown hair. I was attracted
to him right away, but his wife Debbie sort of intimidated me. Debbie is a
goregous blonde, the type that guys pant and drool over. She’s really tall,
about five foot ten, with long blonde hair that reaches her waist. She has
a beautiful figure (36-24-35) and is in really good shape. And she has a nice
tan that makes her green eyes stand out. We went to dinner, our mutual friend
that I was seeing was a nice guy, but we weren’t anything more than friends.
We talked about moving into the area, and how hard is was to find new friends
and make new contacts. Just after we were seated for dinner, Debbie and I
excused ourselves and went to the “powder room”, the wine we’d been drinking
in the lounge had run its course and we wanted to get rid of it. When I came
out of the stall, Debbie was combing her hair in front of the mirror and I
checked my make-up. I saw her eyeing me in the mirror, giving me an up and
down look, and felt pretty good that she thought I was a potential rival (not
that I’d try to take a married guy from his wife). I’m not bad looking. I’m
five foot four with light brown hair, brown eyes (that guys say are very sexy
“bedroom” eyes), and I’m proud of my figure (34c-22-34), although sometimes
I wish my breasts were larger. The dress I was wearing was a light slinky
affair that showed off my figure and was green and black (my favorite colors)
and it came down to just above my knees. Debbie wore a pure black dress that
accented her cleavage and her hips, and her long legs with a slit on one side
that stopped almost indecently high on her thigh. Debbie said “I’m jealous.
John keeps looking at you and undressing you with his eyes.” I looked at her,
not sure what to say, but I did giggle a bit. I’d noticed John eyeing me a
lot, but I figured that he was just enjoying my legs. I told her that John
was probably just fantasizing about having us both (most men seem to have a
fantasy about two women). Debbie stopped combing her hair and looked at me
with an impish look in her eye. “Have you ever done that?” she asked. I
blushed, thinking of one time I had, and told her yes. It was several years
ago with my boyfriend and my best girlfriend. Debbie wanted the details, but
I sort of stammered, saying that it was a long story. She said I’d have to
tell her about it some other time, but she’d also had that fantasy, and wanted
to know how it felt. When she said that I could feel myself start to get wet
thinking about her and John in bed and her fantasizing about another woman
with them. Debbie started to adjust her clothes a bit, and then asked me to
check her bra strap, that she thought it was coming loose. I stood behind
her and unzipped the back of her dress. My hands shook slightly, as I reached
to re-hook one of the three hooks that had come loose. I felt her stiffen as
my fingers touched her bare skin, and felt little electric shocks race through
me, making my pussy feel even wetter. I hooked her bra, and Debbie suddenly
leaned back. I thought she was fainting and caught her with my hands on her
sides, just below her large breasts. She breathed heavily and turned around,
a needing look in her eyes. She reached out and squeezed my left breast in
her hand, and both of us moaned slightly. My pussy was really wet and I was
a bit scared that she’d want to do me right in the restroom. “God, you’re
so beautiful.” she whispered. My knees were weak and I finally told her that
we needed to get back, half afraid that she’d ignore me, half afraid she
wouldn’t. She took a deep breath, and said “You’re right.” We straightened
ourselves up and headed for the door. Debbie stopped and said “If we can get
rid of David, would you like to come over to our place tonight?” I stopped,
stunned at her boldness, and heard myself answer “Yes, and maybe your fantasy
will come true.” Did I really say that? What had come over me? Maybe it
was the wine; or was it? Debbie gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and
we rejoined the guys at the table.
Before I go on, let me explain that while I’d been to bed with my boy-
friend and my best girlfriend, I’d never made love to another woman. My best
friend and I shared my boyfriend, not each other. I wondered afterwards about
it, because everytime our bodies had touched or brushed each other, I felt so
incredibly sexy. I’ve seen porno movies and girls doing girls, and it doesn’t
turn me off, but it does excite men with the “nastiness” of it. But then, I
was raised by very religious parents too, and at 25, I’d finally gotten over
feeling guilty about enjoying sex. I’d also found that I enjoyed teasing my
boyfriend by dressing and exposing my tits or pussy, like a tank top pulled
down so my tits were exposed. But I’d never been with another woman and I
wondered about Debbie’s bold squeeze of my breast. Sitting at the table,
every time I saw her cleaveage I could feel my pussy throb.
Anyway, we left the restaurant, and Debbie asked David if it was alright
if I went with them, as Debbie wanted to show me her art work (Debbie was an
artist for a big company, but she loved to paint at home too). David said he
didn’t mind, and I thanked him for introducing me to Debbie and John, and
John said that he and Debbie would take me home. David left and I got into
the car with John and Debbie, sitting in the middle at Debbie’s insistance.
While we drove through the darkness to their house, Debbie’s dress had slid
up on her legs, and her left thigh was very exposed by the slit of her dress.
John was looking left as he turned and Debbie took my right hand and placed
it on her thigh. I could feel her warm skin through her pantyhose and I felt
a sort of electric shock. I looked at her, and she was watching my face too.
John was distracted, talking about how well Debbie painted and trying to
merge onto the freeway at the same time. The wine had loosened my inhibitions
and I slid my hand under Debbie’s dress and touched her pussy. I felt her
hips rise against my hand, and I found that she was so wet she’d almost soaked
her pantyhose! I looked at John just in time. He looked at me and asked me
if I liked hot tubs. “Sure.” I said. He didn’t see my hand under Debbie’s
dress in the darkness and he paid more attention to his driving. I removed
my hand, and looked at Debbie. Her eyes were wide and she was breathing very
deeply. Her slick moistness was on my fingers and I told her I’d love to look
at her paintings before we hit the hot tubs. While she answered I raised my
fingers to my mouth and licked her honey from my fingers. Her eyes were
riveted on my lips and I smiled. John of course wasn’t watching so he didn’t
know what we were doing.
They had a lovely two story house in a new area just outside of town.
John said he’d pour some more wine and went to the kitchen and Debbie led me
by the hand upstairs to her “studio”. Once there, with John making noises
downstairs, Debbie pulled me to her and kissed me passionately on the mouth.
Her tounge slid past my parted lips and found mine. Her body seemed to burn
against me, her hands cupped my behind, fondling them eagerly. I could feel
my panties were sopping wet and my tounge followed hers into her mouth. We
kept this up until we heard John coming up the stairs. John passed out some
rather large glasses of white wine and we sipped and looked at Debbie’s art.
She was really a good artist. Some of her works were landscapes but most
were of people. One amusing one was of two toddlers at the beach, sans any
swimsuits, and playing with a large beach ball. John opened a closet door
and pulled out what he called his “favorite painting”. Debbie blushed a bit
and said that John was biased. John turned the painting around and I looked
at a self portrait of Debbie, standing and nude, her long blonde hair pulled
up by her hands behind her head. It was a stunning piece of work. I looked
at her large breasts and nipples and her very blonde pussy. Her legs were
gorgeous and trim too. My pussy felt wetter than ever. I looked at Debbie
and said that she was so beautiful. She blushed and told John to show her
the other one. This was a full length nude of John, with a tremendous
erection. I whistled and told John that he made a very good model. “Debbie
had to keep me hard while she painted that. And it took her three days!”
We all laughed and Debbie blushed slightly. Why was she embarrassed? I felt
like she should be proud of her beautiful bod. We talked about painting and
of course sex for a while, then John suggested that we take a dip in the hot
tub. I was ready, the wine already relaxing me and making me feel a bit wild.
Debbie explained that she and John never wore suits in the hot tub, but that
I was welcome to wear one of hers (if it would fit that is). We let John go
into the tub first while I said I’d like to try on one of Debbie’s suits.
John went downstairs and undressed by the tub while we went into the master
bedroom. Debbie opened a drawer and told me to look through her suits and
see if anything would fit. She stepped over by the bed and stripped out of
her clothes quickly. I followed her example and quickly removed my clothes.
Now we were both naked and close to each other, and I felt myself tremble
as she came closer. Her hands cupped my breasts and kneaded them, sending a
wave of pleasure over me. I reached up to hers and felt their warmth and
their fullness. Debbie begged me to suck her nipples and I leaned forward,
thinking how exciting this was. I licked her large and dark nipples, and
sucked them the way I like it. I pinched them between my lips, and tugged
gently. Debbie moaned softly the whole time, her hips swaying and she was
breathing deeply. I guess I really got into it, and she had to pry me off
her breasts to kiss me. She kissed me hard and passionately, and I seemed
to melt against her. Her hands explored me and found my pussy. When her
fingers touched the lips of my pussy, I shuddered with pleasure. Debbie just
…End of the part1. To be continued..
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Placement position : XXX Reviews >> Reality
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Fresh Teens / Gay Hitchhiker / Latina Sex / Man Hunter / Pimp 4 a Day / Suck Me Bitch / Backseat Bangers / Housewife Bangers / My Sex Tour / College Wild Parties /
Title : Fresh Teens Site Reviews
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Placement position : XXX Reviews >> Movies
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Ultra Videos / Movie Access /
Title : Ultra Videos Site Reviews
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