Panties In a Wad (bad conv)

Panties in a Wad by Laura B. Cooper Published by Laura B. Cooper Panties in a Wad Copyright © 2012 by Laura B. Cooper

* Warning * All rights reserved under the international and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from another publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

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Table of Contents Chapter 1 – The Shaft Chapter 2 – Toying with Tonya Chapter 3 – Purring Pussies Chapter 4 – Penis Envy Chapter 5 – The Big Gang Bang Theory Chapter 6 – Scared Stiff Chapter 7 – Romancing the Bone Chapter 8 – Cumming Home Bonus Reads Tongue and Groove Tramp Stamp Club: My Slut Wife Training Sharing Cecelia About the Author Other Books

I’d been nervous about the interview basically since we’d committed to attend the writers conference. Of course there were several other issues that made me hesitant over the upcoming weekend too. For one, I’d only met a small portion of these people on the internet, via emails, posts and so on. Anyone can describe themselves as a sexually purring kitten, a hardcore dominatrix or even a housewife bent on sucking the cable man’s cock and any other they came in contact with, but who were these people really? The writers of erotic literature, the writers who could make you jump on top of your husband and rub your clit against his bulging jeans until you came simply by reading a short story. For the most part I’m a fairly normal woman in my mid forties; married with two children in college. I was already sure I’d be a great disappointment to the other writers. I envisioned them as raving beauties, oozing with sensuality, the men straight from the Chippendale calendar. I checked my image in the hotel bathroom mirror one last time, and with a sigh I headed downstairs for my obligatory interview. The elevator ride down was an inner nightmare; we’d arrived late last night and saw no one that I would suspect was part of an Erotic Writers Conference. Now it was nearly ten in the morning, and surely the real writers would be stirring. The double doors opened and I stepped into the luxurious Las Vegas hotel lobby. I knew my facial expression probably showed me to be a total bitch; I’d been told before that when I was terrified or nervous that I came across snobbish and aloof. I made a conscious effort to smile slightly as I walked across the lobby. The concierge was behind his pedestal near the long hallway that led to the Conference Meeting Rooms. “Good morning,” I said as I strained to maintain a pleasant demeanor. “Could you tell me where the interviews are being held?” “Yes Ma’am! Straight down the hall, second door on your left,” the penguin clad man directed. “Thanks.” Again I tried to smile a genuine expression. My knees rattled beneath me slightly as I turned to walk down the hallway to my certain demise. There was no telling what version of an idiot I was going to come off as during this interview. I’d probably never sell another book after my readers read it. “Ah well, back to my day job!” I mumbled under my breath as I turned the lever that opened the heavy door. The room was empty except for the set up in the far right corner. Cameras, lights and a gathering of furniture that would lead one to believe that the interview was being held in someone’s comfortable living room, when in reality it was a cavernous meeting room. I stepped carefully across the room towards the arrangement. I should have rethought the high heels; my shaking knees were causing me to walk as though I was a lumbering elephant. I cleared my throat as I neared the handsome middle aged man who I assumed was going to conduct the interview. “Good morning,” I announced my presence. The man glanced up from a handful of papers, and immediately stood and held out his hand, “Mrs. Cooper? It was a question, albeit not a hint of astonishment at my very average appearance. “Yes.” “Oh good. So nice to meet you! I’ve read many your books. I’m sorry, my name is Randall Holmes. Please, sit here next to me on the sofa.” I nodded and lowered myself nervously onto the generic hotel sofa. Glancing around I noticed faux potted plants, a small display of coffee table books on the glass table in front of the sofa, and the heavy lighting and camera equipment. Already the lights were making me feel the presence of every single wrinkle on my face. Not to mention that if the old saying was true, and the camera did in fact add ten pounds, I was totally screwed. “Mrs. Cooper, I’d like to get started right away if that suits you?” I nodded, cleared my throat again and folded my twitching hands into my lap. “Great! Okay, Rodney, you can start rolling now.” I smiled towards the cameraman who was only slightly visible behind the blinding lights pointed directly onto my face. “First let me begin by saying that you look beautiful today in green, Mrs. Cooper.” What the hell was this? Was he flirting with me? I’d chosen the green suit because I’d always thought that my putrid green eyes needed a boost. Somehow when I wore green they seemed less boring. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes.” Holmes? Wasn’t there a porn star way back when named Holmes? Something about an abnormally large cock, but that star had died or been murdered or something. Funny sounding, really it was, as if his cock had been long enough to bludgeon himself to death with. Oh hell, why does my mind wander like this? Still, I wonder if there is any relation. Now I was smiling in earnest. Certainly, those things are genetic right?

“Please call me Randy,” the huge cocked man invited. “Oh yes, and please do call me Laura.” I couldn’t help but scan the healthy lump between his legs. Randy shifted in his seat on the sofa; clearly I was doing it again! I hated this about myself. Somehow I could take any ordinary meeting and somehow twist it into a fantasy fuck fest. I needed to control myself, at least this one damn time! “Laura, I’ve read your novels, and I’m sure that your readers have the same first question that I have.” Okay here it comes, the part where I blow this interview sky high and never sell another book as long as I live. “And what would that be Randy?” I smiled coyly toward the camera. “How much, percentage wise, would you say is fiction in your books and how much is real life adventure?” I couldn’t help but laugh, that wasn’t exactly the question I would have asked first, but alright… this might be fun after all. “Randy, I’m from the south as I’m sure you can tell. So although I’ve seen many apparitions in my day, I certainly don’t recall any that actually conversed with me.” Randy was temporarily caught off guard, finally, he issued a wry smile, and “You’re referring to Watched and The Plantation of course. Which brings me directly to the issue of The Plantation, does it exist?” Now that would have been my first question. “Randy, due to membership restrictions I can’t, of course, mention any real names… but yes, a form of The Plantation does indeed exist.” I smiled tenderly thinking of the comforts I’ve found in our exclusive “home town” club. Randy looked at me squarely, “And the Tramp Stamp Club?” I giggled a bit. I quickly stood up and turned my back to Randy, and with my left forefinger I lowered the waistline of my green slacks ever so slightly to expose the navy blue tattoo on my lower back. The tattoo was the shape of the State of South Carolina, and contained a white palmetto tree with a naked woman leaning against it. Below the tattoo, also in navy, was my number: 326. I carefully arranged myself back onto the sofa next to Randy and turned to face his now beet red cheeks. “I assume that answers your question, Randy?” “Oh uh… well yes it does. For the record, since the audience couldn’t see what just happened, I am here to confirm that Laura Cooper does indeed bare the mark of the Tramp Stamp Club on her lower uh… back.” Randy gathered his wits enough to remain somewhat professional after my display. His body language was altogether different though; he turned towards me as though we were indeed in a quiet living room somewhere and were now having a private discussion. In turn, this shift in his demeanor put me instantly more at ease. “So Laura, what you are saying is that your stories are more real life events than fiction?” I paused for a moment, “Isn’t that the case with all erotic writers? How could you possibly write about something you knew nothing about? I’m forever jealous of writers who invent new worlds and characters with nothing more than their imagination as a base but that isn’t me. No, I’m simply a chronicler, not a true writer.” The depression struck instantly; this is where I lose my readers forever. There goes my beloved RV, the boat, and most likely the new property on the island that Chris and I just had cleared. Still, best to just come out with it. “Randy, I’m afraid that’s true. The limits of my imagination are stretched simply trying to keep my husband entertained after all this time. I don’t think in a million years I could invent the stories that I write.” Randy shifted again; the bulge between his legs was obviously making him uncomfortable. I had no idea what was causing such a rise in his pants. I was totally devastated at my reveal. “Speaking of Chris, where is he right now?” “Probably in our hotel room rubbing his cock reading the first chapter of Tongue and Groove.” I managed a small laugh, if only because I was pretty sure that is exactly what he was doing at the moment. “But Randy, you have an interview with Chris this afternoon, so you can ask him personally!” My husband Chris often wrote the stories that I didn’t. In other words he was a real writer and not only in the Erotic Literature forum, had he written real books as well. “Right. So tell me about Tongue and Groove? I assume that is yet another adventure?” “Actually it’s more like a financial diary and it’s nowhere near complete. As a matter of fact we just started this challenge.” “Challenge? Now that sounds interesting. Please tell!” I smiled, “Well it started with a simple drive across town. We were heading in to Ja-- uh… Jonathon’s house in the city when we passed the RV sales center. I begged Chris to stop. Long story short, I fell in love with a new RV. I tend to do that; fall in love with material objects. Chris, as usual, spoiled my dreams by informing me that we only had a certain amount of money that could be spent on building the new house. After that there’d be none left to buy a can of soup, much less

an RV.” I chuckled because that was verbatim what he’d said. “So I mulled over the problem the rest of the afternoon. That’s when it occurred to me that there had to be more than one way to rattle this cage. I proposed a challenge: if I could get all the labor for free, then certainly there’d be enough to not only build the house of our dreams but park the RV of my dreams in the driveway.” Randy choked softly, “And how is that working out?” My hands went to my hair, smoothing it with one stroke and twirling it in contemplation with the other. “The land is cleared, labor cost zero. The foundation goes in next week. So far, so good.” Clearing his throat, “Let me get this straight. You are building a complete home and paying for all of the labor costs with uh… personal acts?” “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds rather like prostitution. But basically, yes. Of course I do have the help of my sisters in the club. They’ve been quite generous with their time in helping me. I think they are already planning on spending a lot of time out on the island with us!” I laughed, thinking of the antics that we were sure to have. “Laura, is this a big house or just a small structure?” “Oh no! The house is over 4000 square feet. To be fair, there is also a guest house as well as a six car garage and a full kennel.” “And you are not planning on paying one dime for labor?” “Oh I think there will be some actual money changing hands but for the most part I hope to cut the labor costs in half at least.” “Well I think I can speak for all of your readers in saying that we can’t wait to read how this challenge pans out!” “Thank you, Randy.” With that the interview was over. After a few parting comments, Randy and I parted ways. I felt like I’d been ripped off in a way; there were so many things I’d wanted to discuss. Answers I had planned in my head over the past weeks. Instead, we’d ended up talking construction. Ah well, I shrugged as I teetered down the carpeted hallway. At least I felt like I’d broken the ice at this convention. I was passed in the hallway by a short, stocky woman heading towards the same doorway I’d just left. Curiously I glanced back at her as she opened the door and went in. Certainly she was part of the hotel staff or management; she didn’t look like an erotic writer, that’s for sure!

I found my way back to the elevator in a haze. It took a moment for me to notice that the Concierge had moved his pedestal directly into the elevator. I gave him an interested glance, but he remained unmoving. Finally, he met my gaze, “Mrs. Cooper! How was your interview?” The elevator doors began to close. “I’m not really sure,” I pondered. “I think it went okay.” How’d he know my name? At The Plantation at home the staff was required to study our bio’s and photographs so that they recognized us immediately, I hadn’t expected that at such a huge hotel in Las Vegas though. “Wonderful! Just to let you know, the fifth floor is now closed to anyone other than those who have rooms there. The hotel monitors are also shut down on that floor for the remainder of the weekend.” “Oh? And why is that?” I droned, only casually interested. Most likely a carpet cleaning incident or maybe we had a famous author on our floor. I’d seen that happen at college football games before; once everyone who’s supposed to be there is there, the level is closed. I hadn’t put much thought into it, but I guessed that it was to keep autograph signers from harassing the famous while they were enjoying the game. The Concierge faltered a moment, “This is your first Erotic Writers Conference then?” Now I was vaguely interested, “Yes it is.” He was hinting that there was something that I didn’t know or understand. “Mrs. Cooper, Erotic Writers prefer privacy during this weekend. Fans will be able to have contact with you only in the downstairs areas.” Fans? What an odd way of talking about the people who bought our books. Such elaborate re-arranging of the hotel just for a bunch of so-so writers to meet and talk about grammar and publishing. The elevator doors opened on the fifth floor as I was busy considering how this was all a big to do about nothing. “Well… thanks for the ride!” I smiled slightly at the serious looking man in the penguin suit. “Have a wonderful weekend, Mrs. Cooper.” I was rolling my eyes as I stepped into the hallway, the elevator doors already closing behind me. At first the noise caught me off guard. It sounded as if someone on the fifth floor was mowing the lawn. The vibration was even obscurely shaking the floor beneath my heels. But that wasn’t all that caught my attention. It seemed as if the entire hallway had been transformed since I’d gone downstairs to the interview only an hour earlier. Tables laden with food lined the left walls; tables laden with books lined the right. A giant photograph of Chris and me caught my immediate attention. Below the photograph were stacks of every book either of us had ever written. As I moved down the hall I studied the various photographs of the other authors. I was completely mesmerized by the fact that they too looked like normal people, just like me and Chris! There was that damn lawn mower breaking my concentration though. What was that noise? I neared our room and noticed that the door was slightly open, as was the door just past ours, which seemed to be the source of the earth quaking vibration. My hand went to the door handle of our room, but curiosity took over and my eyes wandered to the next door ajar. Silently I stepped closer, peering in with a shyness I’m not accustomed to. I was out of my element, after all; there was a definite need for caution. A loud moan escaped the open doorway as I caught sight of my husband Chris sitting on the bed in the room next to ours, the room with the moans and lawn mower sound. I puffed my chest and stepped into the room, preparing to chastise Chris. The woman on the sybian smiled as I entered the room. I smiled back, wondering who the hell she was. At this point I was more than a little irritated with Chris. We’d always made a point to be together during anything remotely sexual, now I find him in this woman’s room watching her ride a fucking sybian? Wrong. I put my hand on his broad shoulder and made my grip tight. “Oh! Laura! Great! How was the interview?” “It was fine dear. What exactly are you doing here?” I could see his heavy cock jumping inside his jeans. I’d warned him that he shouldn’t wear those tight jeans this weekend; khaki’s or slacks would be more professional, but his general attire consists of jeans, cowboy boots and a blue (sometimes white if he’s frisky) button down shirt. His thought is that a navy wool blazer makes that ensemble professional. Oh and lest we forget that this entire shoe collection consists of boots in two categories, dress and casual. Oddly there are matching belts in each category as well. The only addition I’m allowed to make is the various, and sometimes truly funny, boxer shorts he wears beneath his jeans. His smile showed he was ignorant of my irritation. “Tonya and Ray here asked if anyone wanted to test out their new sybian. I’m just here holding you a spot!”

God help me. After all these years with Chris, I’ve never been able to resist his boyish charm, his rakish smile, and those crystal blue eyes that always seems to be laughing at some unknown joke. I plopped down next to him on the bed, my anger clearly defeated. My eyes eventually wandered to the slinky brunette on the sybian. A matching tall brown eyed man was manning her controls, carefully monitoring the speed at which she was writhing on the horse like fuck toy. She was completely naked, her breasts smaller than mine, but all the same generous, bounced with abandon. For any readers not familiar with a sybian, it is an extremely powerful machine that resembles one of those bull riding apparatus they use in country bars. It doesn’t spin or attempt to throw you off though, instead it has interchangeable cocks that plug into the top that vibrate somewhere near the speed of light. It does in fact sound like a lawn mower when operating at full speed. As if I suddenly appeared out of a mist the man, I assumed was Ray noticed my attendance. He stood from his chair with a bolt. “Laura Cooper?” I was caught off guard. What had I done? “Yes?” He sat the controls down on his now vacant chair and walked away from his orgasmic wife. It occurred to me that I’d be more than pissed if I was in her place, and Chris just walked away from the controls. A sybian can reach a frenzied state in a second, I wouldn’t want to be caught on one unmanned! “Wait! Don’t set those down!” I raced across the room as the confused man realized his error and turned to retrieve the remote control to his wife’s pussy. I reached my hand out to meet his, “Laura Cooper.” I introduced myself; I shot a hint of a smile to his lovely wife on the sybian, clearly only women understand the pain of being over stimulated. “Ray Webster” he smiled brightly as he pumped my hand. “And this raving beauty is my pornographic genius wife Tonya.” He nodded at the shivering woman as though she was made of Grade A T-Bone. “Hang on. You’re Tonya Webster?” I asked the vibrating woman on the sybian. She nodded, biting her lip to hold back a moan of delight as her pussy was being manipulated by the electronic cock beneath her. “Isn’t she amazing?” Ray injected. In truth she was, my crotch was twitching with excitement. I wasn’t sure if that came from watching her ride the sybian with utter abandon before us or the fact that I’d read everything she’d ever written. Vampires fucking mortal women in dark libraries, watching others fuck while hiding beneath their beds…oh yes; I would consider myself a huge fan. Fan? I guess that’s what I am. I must be who the Concierge is concerned about! “I’m a huge fan of your writing!” I blurted out. Ray stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder. “She’s a huge fan of yours too, Laura. Look closer at the sybian.” Confused I looked at the actual machine for the first time. Suddenly it struck me; it was an exact replica of the one at The Plantation. Longer than a regular sybian. This one could be utilized by two women at the same time, it’s a rare instrument and I’m sure it took Tonya and Ray quite a long time to find one like it. I felt a tug on my green slacks as Tonya struggled to get my attention. She was waving to me silently to join her. My eyebrows went up in interest. Glancing over at Chris on the edge of the bed I sought his approval. He nodded gently, as he always does when he’s at a loss for words, which isn’t often by the way. My suit, underwear and bra were on the floor in seconds, and I accepted the bottled gel that Ray passed to me. Slathering my clit with the icy gel I saw Tonya’s lips move as if to lick at an invisible cock. Bending down I touched my tongue to hers in greeting. It isn’t a formal way to greet your favorite author I’m sure, but her delicious tongue looked like it needed sucking. I pulled it into my mouth gently and put my arm around her neck. Not only to pull her tasty tongue closer, but also to balance myself as I stepped over the sybian. I lowered myself slowly, her tongue still twirling with mine. She withdrew carefully to allow me to adjust myself astride our now mutual fucking horse. The vibrations caught my inner thighs and sent an instant shiver through me. Ray lowered the vibration level in an effort to let me adjust. Tonya had been at this a while, so I was sure that she was much closer to orgasm. I needed to catch up, and quick. The plastic cock on the sybian slid easily inside me. I was already soaking wet, the gel just a formality. I was startled as her tanned hands reached around my neck and pulled my face back to hers. Her kiss was much more passionate now, more in need. Our faces meshed as her tongue pulled mine into her mouth. Our breasts now mashed together, nipples tantalizing the others. Slowly she began rocking me back and forth on the sybian. The massive rubber cock was already spinning and gyrating inside me now, and her rocking motion was rubbing my clit against the plastic nub between us. I could feel her juices already flowing between us; the plastic was downright hot where her own clit had been. This woman was on fire! Her lips broke with mine as she bent her body forward; gently she lifted one heavy breast at a time to hold them up between us. Her tongue went straight to my nipples, toying with them tenderly, and then sucking with a constantly progressive pressure. My face was in her rolling mountain of dark curls. She wore expensive perfume; I wasn’t familiar with the brand but it caused my clit to shiver. The scent encased me, I was weak within it.

“Oh Laura! Your tits are as great as I expected them to be!” She offered them a tantalizing lick. I could only moan in response, the vibrations were now reverberating throughout my entire body. In all fairness it must take a “sybian expert” to hold a conversation while you’re on one, I’d never mastered that. Tonya’s hands left my breasts; they dropped between us with a solid bounce as she reached for my face. Her passion was now unbridled as she kissed me, the way only Chris had done before. I’d kissed many women before, but none elicited the same thrill in my body as Tonya was doing at this moment. She was in total control of my body now and I was her complete slave. Her body rocked us, forwards and backwards, faster and faster. She was a master of this sybian, I was along for the ride under her careful training. I thought for a moment I was lost, I couldn’t fathom being this far out of my own mind. Somewhere I heard the lawn mower sound increase to full power. Everything was a blur as the room went spinning between us, I held onto her for dear life. She was my lifeline; her tight hold on me proved that she was my more than adequate protector. I was at her mercy as the first wave of my orgasm began, I could hear the deep moans of pleasure coming from our joint mouth; whether it was me or her I wasn’t clear. The tightness of our grip on one another seemed mutual, but I wasn’t fooled by her tender hold she was my master now. Our clits were pulsing against each other as we roared together in orgasm. Hot liquid poured onto the sybian between us; a mixture of both of our come. One of us screamed in pleasure, it may have been me. Slowly the world began to focus again. Tonya’s hold on me became more tender, and her kisses romanced me. Finally I realized that the sybian was silent. As if taking stock of the situation, I noticed her hair spread across my neck and shoulders and breasts. Her brilliant green eyes pierced into my dull green ones with a new found love. With a whisper that I’m sure neither Ray nor Chris could hear she touched her lips to my left ear, “Laura, I am a huge fan too!”

“Laura, hurry up. Please! I don’t want to miss this seminar!” “Fuck off, Chris! If you’re in such a hurry, go on down and I’ll meet you there.” I could hear his deep laughter from beyond the bathroom door, “Yeah, right! I’ll come back up in two hours and you and Tonya back on that damn sybian for the third time!” I smiled into the mirror in front of me at his comment, despite my own increasing depression. A helpless attempt to smooth out the crows feet from around the outer edges of my eyes, far too many hours in front of my computer, I sighed heavily. I felt old, out of shape and far inadequate as a writer. Not only was I now exhausted by my encounter with Tonya on the sybian, but I now had to go face the rest of the “real” writers. I honestly don’t know what in the world made me agree to come to this Conference in the first place. I felt like a poser in the midst of truly talented people. People who had a gift, the only gift I seem to have is sucking cock. Not that I’m not proud of that gift, but intellectually it doesn’t compare to the Writers here. Opening my mouth and swallowing a throat full of come is a rather brainless act. Still, I’d made the flight out here and would somehow find a way to hold my shoulders back and face my colleagues. There I go again, “colleagues,” “fans,” all words of a Writer Poser. On top of all of my feelings of inadequacy, I was now completely in love with Tonya Webster; her puppy love slave forever. I was a child, an infant to her perfection as a woman, and certainly as a writer. I changed into a black dress of pure silk, hoping that the richness of the fabric itself would somehow meld itself into my being and lend me some of its glamour. I needed all the help I could get. Chris clutched my hand as we stepped into the downstairs conference room. There were still several people milling about, some chatting easily to each other, some searching for empty seats. Chris hesitated, his eyes roaming the room seeking two vacant chairs for us. From the corner of my eye I saw a middle aged woman motioning to us. Chris nodded in her direction and smiled at her. Did he know her? We edged between the rows of chairs and took the two empty seats next to the attractive woman. As we settled Chris leaned towards her and whispered, “Thanks Sarina.” “No problem Chris. I’ve wanted to meet you and Laura for a while now.” I leaned forward in my chair, not believing what I’d just heard. “Sarina Cathisson?” “Yep! Hi Laura!” She held her hand out to hold my own for a moment. Crud, now I felt even more like a teenager. Wonder if I should ask for her autograph right now? At least I knew I wasn’t washing my hand anytime soon. To my utter embarrassment all I could muster was “Wow!” as I leaned back into my seat. The lecture was on independent publishing, not my forte. If I were honest, it’s Chris who handles all of the public stuff, publishing and such. I occasionally do the facebook, twitter thing. For the record I’m not antisocial at all, my personal facebook page is a constant plethora of activity. I am forever being drug into some drama when the little info boxes flash in the corner of my computer screen notifying me that someone has commented on my page. As my mind wanders throughout the entire lecture, I was examining Sarina’s shapely ankles, her perfectly manicured toes, and the slight peek of her thigh through her jersey knit dress. Here I go again, turning even the lamest lecture into an all out fuck fest in my mind. It doesn’t even matter if my pussy is still tender from my sybian adventure with Tonya. All that does is make me even more aware of it. Like a paper cut, the slightest tenderness makes me unable to concentrate on anything else. Finally the speaker made his last address to the room; I was the first to rise from my seat. I had very little patience remaining for this Conference on the whole. Chris was the brilliant one in our marriage; let him learn all this garbage. No doubt he would spend hours telling me about it later, so it made little sense for us both to listen. Caught in my own inner complaints I didn’t notice that Sarina was taking my hand. “Laura dear, how was your interview?” She was only a few years older than me but the sheer talent the woman exuded in her novels made her feel like a wise mentor. I smiled politely, again noticing her lovely skin tone. What was that, Jewish? It had a definite Mediterranean air, and I loved that. “I think it went fine, not like I’d expected, but all the same I think it turned out alright.” I smiled at her, noticing her deep blue eyes. They seemed to sparkle as she spoke, like she knew something that was inwardly entertaining. I love that feature in others, my own boring eyes just pale in comparison. “Well, they are showing them on screens in the fifth floor Banquet Room during dinner. Would you and Chris like to sit with us?” She motioned towards a

doctorly looking gentleman who was waiting for her by the exit door. Maybe someone had beaten me to the exit after all. I was dumbfounded; did Sarina Cathisson just ask us to dine with her and her husband? That’s impossible. Chris took her hand and kissed her palm, “Sarina, we would love to.” Chris had spent quite some time talking in chat rooms to Sarina, clearly they’d made a bond via the internet. Crazy right? I mean come on; Sarina is the Patterson of Erotic Writing! Now I am smiling at her like an idiot as Chris accepts her invitation! The next few hours were filled with book signings in the downstairs lobby. No one could help noticing the long lines in front of Sarina’s table, everyone anxious to get her autograph. Well at least I knew who the celebrity was on our floor now! Finally we were able to head to our room and relax a bit before dinner. This posing thing is exhausting it occurred to me. I couldn’t wait to get home, where the people already knew me and accepted me for who I truly am. The huge screens in the Banquet Room were indeed showing our interviews, one by one. As our dinner was being served, the entire room was noisy with chatter and people glancing back from the screens to dinner partners. The multiple conversations made the entire room hum. At least five interviews were shown before I saw my own husband’s smiling face on the giant screen. I could barely hear over the white noise in the room, but he was basically explaining the Tramp Stamp Club and then moved onto his own lecture about publishing Soo Chris I thought. Suddenly the room went silent; I turned behind me to see who had walked into the room. The doorway was empty, all faces in the massive room were turned towards the screen, and my interview was being shown. The sudden urge to throw up came over me. Well, there it was. Know every single Erotic Writer on the planet will now know that I am a poser. I could feel my body physically shrinking into my seat. Wonder if anyone would notice if I slid under the table? Doubtful, they would because they are all captured by me showing my tattoo to Randy on the giant screen at the front of the room. Chris took my hand and held on tightly. We hadn’t had time to discuss our interviews and he was staring at the screen as though I was a foreign alien with two heads. I stared at my plate, when the interview was over, and it lasted forever, the room maintained its silence. Quickly the ramblings began. Every eye in the room was trained on me. I felt their gazes burning through my skin like a brand. I knew they were whispering, talking about me. I imagined quotes like “That no talent bitch only writes about what she does.” “More like a diary of her slutty life than a literary work.” I was ashamed and humiliated and there was no escaping their whispers. Chris leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, “Everyone in this room is now wishing they were you right now.” I looked at him, still red in the face from humiliation. I was sure that tears were in the corners of my eyes just waiting for one more comment to begin pouring down my face. Sarina’s doctorly husband muttered, “Holy Shit.” as he folded his napkin into his lap. Sarina herself seemed shocked but she managed to regain her mentor like posture quickly. “Laura, either you’re a fucking genius or… good God! Do you really do all that?” The remainder of the meal went by in a blur. As we left the room Chris got pats on the back from the countless husbands and male writers in the room. Comments like, “You old dog!” I did my best to hide behind his massive form and hope that I would be ignored. Eventually I tired of him being congratulated for having a total and complete slut for a wife and ran down the hallway to our room. I managed the plastic card key somehow and fell face first on the bed. A moment later I heard the door close behind me. The weight that pressed down on the bed next to me wasn’t heavy like Chris’s body would be. The hand I felt on my back comforting me was smooth and hairless. I looked up through my tears into the crystal blue eyes of Sarina. I sat up with a startle. “I… I’m sorry. I swear usually I’m not such a huge baby,” I said, wiping the wetness from my face. “So what exactly is it, Laura? Why are you crying when you should be celebrating?” Celebrating? Celebrating what? Sarina must not have seen my interview. If so she’d be cursing me right now for clogging the book lists with the crap stories of my lame life. “I’m not a real writer like you, like Tonya, like the others. I only write about the things I do.” Her hand wiped the tears from my face, “There’s nothing wrong with that! As a matter of fact, we are all jealous that you have such a sexual appetite.” “Oh come on Sarina! The things you write about? Magical stuff, stories that befuddle the entire Erotic community; you are a true writer. I’m just a poser.” Fresh tears streamed down my cheeks. This time her lips touched my face so very tenderly. She kissed my tears away, catching each one as it fell. I couldn’t help but respond. Ever so slowly my face tilted until our lips met. The salty wetness of my tears covered her mouth, the tenderness and guidance she offered was not something I was willing to ignore. My lips responded involuntarily, my tongue followed. While my mind was still replaying the horrors of the day I could feel my body’s willingness to forget it all. As her hand went to my breast a long breath escaped my lungs. It was as though that breath contained all the stresses, like somehow my body knew to package up this day, wrap it tightly and tie a bow on it and expel it into the dimly lit hotel room.

It wasn’t often that I felt at a loss of control, yet somehow this entire day had been jam packed full of it. Sarina’s hands roved my body, undressing me tenderly-carefully, my juices flowed. The day was officially behind me. At some point during her erotic touches I heard the hotel room door open and close; I felt the presence of Chris and another man. I just no longer cared who was watching as my legs spread across the bed to welcome Sarina between them. She inserted one, then two fingers into my canal; she was seeking my inner core and landed on it almost instantly. I groaned with pleasure as my spot was highlighted by her gentle massages. My entire body ached for release and she sought to give it to me quickly. She rubbed towards the front of my inner wall, using her taut lips to suck the life force from my clit. I rewarded her by bucking my hips against her mouth, the noise of my passion reverberated through the room. Instantly I felt my climax rising within me, I grabbed her head and pushed her even more tightly into my pussy. With increased pressure from her lovely fingers my body roared, shivering to orgasm under her exquisite care. “I want you inside me!” I blurted, unable to control my voice and needs any longer. As if by magic or more likely a mutual marital understanding, Chris filled my hand with the large pink rubber dildo I had packed in my suitcase. It wasn’t as if I’d anticipated anything remotely this wonderful happening on this trip, it was simply in the regular “toy case” that I always travelled with. I vaguely smiled at him and accepted my prize. Rolling Sarina onto her back I slid up and wet the double dildo in my mouth, licking it generously. Her skirt was up to her waist already, so yanking her panties down her thighs with my teeth was an easy feat. I growled, purred as I moved them down her shapely legs. Without haste I carefully slid one end of the massive pink dildo into her slick pussy, she had no problem accepting its size. In fact her moans indicated that her need was frenzied. I climbed on top of her, slowly inserting the other end of the double dildo between my own dripping pussy lips and lowered myself onto it. We moved together in unison until each of us reached our maximum insertion. To my shock and delight I found that our clits met in the middle. A random hand pushed between us; it wasn’t Chris’s hand, it belonged to Sarina’s husband. With the flick of a button he maneuvered a slender vibrating dildo between our clits. We held it there by sheer force, our clits mashed together in mutual understanding. Her juices flowed from the double dildo and mixed with my own, creating a slippery barrier between us. I raised and lowered myself on top of her until I found a rhythm, and closed my eyes, letting our passions take control. Her warmth and aroma filled my senses; her responses to my fucking drove me to my peak. The vibrating of the hard dildo on our clits, the size and wetness of the dildo inside us both, and the heat of her moans drove me closer and closer to soaking her with my come. Her lips licked and sucked my neck as we pounded together. Our nipples grazing one another, adding a touch drove me past the point of return. I fucked harder, now forgetting her beneath me, her purrs no longer within my range of hearing. I was only slightly aware of her arms grabbing my back and issuing massive scratches as my pussy exploded onto our joint cock. The waves rushed past me, they seemed to be never ending as my canal contracted pulsing on the rubber prick as though it would respond. Finally the last wave rolled over me and my body became completely still. In a sudden mad race to examine Sarina for injury I grabbed the mass of her hair from my dampened cheek. Her eyes met mine tenderly; a smile of volumes was on her lips. It’d been an uncontrolled and hasty encounter, one that neither of us had expected but one that neither of us would quickly forget. I lifted myself from the rubber dildo and sensually pulled the other end from her dripping cunt. Her pussy was lovely, swollen from the encounter with small beads of her come rolling from the inner lips. I leaned down and licked the wetness, tasting both of us and our mutual release from her flowery petals. “I hate to disturb you ladies but Chris and I here are in need of some licking ourselves!” Sarina’s husband’s voice was deep and rich from across the room. I glanced up at Sarina, we’d clearly ignored and forgotten our husbands in our passionate adventure. “Perhaps we should tend to them?” I nearly whispered in question to her from my position between her thighs. “Oooh…yes, let’s suck those hard cocks dry!” She giggled. With Chris’s cock filling my mouth and throat it occurred to me that this day hadn’t been so horrible after all!

I rose slowly the next morning, the previous day’s activities and emotional trauma was taking full toll of me. So far at this Writers Conference I’d managed to fuck two of the world’s top Erotic writers, make a complete ass of myself in an interview, and expose myself as a “writer poser” to everyone in attendance. As I sat on the edge of the bed I searched my mind for a way to put this behind me. It’s my nature to close one day completely and open another, giving myself a fresh start regardless of what I know the day holds. At this point I was ready to go home though, I’d had enough of the emotional garbage and seemingly no longer had control of my faculties at all. I’d been a crying, bumbling, hysterical mess the day before, the only thing that’d saved me was the tender mercies of Tonya and Sarina. Now I was hungry and my body ached for a different type of release. Since the beginning of time I’d been a water baby. I imagine that my Mother was one of those hippy women who delivered me in a bathtub of warm water, though I knew that not to be true. Yet somehow the water was always the master soothing element of my survival. Sounds of the ocean and the lolling of the waves on the beach prompted us to build the massive home we currently had under construction at home. I simply need water, in some form, around me at all times. In our current home, back in Charleston, we have a rather large swimming pool; a fountain and generous hot tub are part of that feature. On a morning like this, with a previous day like I had yesterday, I would not be sitting here on the side of this bed; I’d be sipping my coffee in the warm waters of the swirling hot tub. Wait! Certainly this hotel has a hot tub, right? I mean this is Las Vegas after all. “Chris? Chris!” I shoved him on the back a few times to roust him from his snoring slumber. “What?” He groaned; clearly not ready to greet the day. “Honey is there a hot tub in this hotel?” Chris rolled over to eye me, eye being the operative word because he kept the other eye closed. More like, a squinting at me if I must be honest. “Laura, there’s a hot tub on this floor!” He groaned, already getting the gist of where I was heading. “Well then… come on; let’s get coffee and head on over there!” I was probably being a little too perky for him this morning but I didn’t care. I needed to soak away the stresses so that I could appropriately start my day anew. Twenty minutes later, steaming coffee in hand we found the door to the private hot tub that was only to be used by patrons of this floor. Our room key granted us entrance to the tiled room that was already filled with steam. It was difficult to see, my glasses immediately fogged and I could tell Chris’s were doing the same. Neither of us had bothered to put our contact lenses in so I’m sure that we appeared the brainiac nerds of the Fifth Floor Jacuzzi room. I had not one care in the world though other than slipping into that hot water. The smell of chlorine was a bit more than I preferred, yet somehow in a hotel Jacuzzi I always find it rather assuring. I easily found the steel railing that led me into the water. Tossing my towel-like bathrobe backwards to Chris, I hoped he would catch it and put it somewhere safe for me. The hot water hit my ankles like a bolt of lightning; I slowed my pace on my downward climb instantly. On occasion I’d been known to turn my skin into a French fry by being too eager to get in. I was on the final step and on my way to arranging myself in the water when my foot hit skin. With a shock I tilted my head downwards to peer over my fogged spectacles. In my mad rush to get in it hadn’t occurred to me that the hot tub may possibly be already occupied. An ebony smile greeted my confusion. “Here Laura, let me give you a hand.” The matching deep voice said. I raised my glasses onto the top of my head; it’s their normal perch anyway, and struggled to grasp the hand of my new assistant. I hadn’t seen the large ebony skinned man yesterday, of that I was sure. Already his stunning brown eyes were coming into focus and shoulders created by Gold’s Gym rose above the water like a Greek God. Okay, for the most part I am extremely gentle when it comes to judging men. At some point in my aging process I’d even begun to prefer gray hair. I like to call it “distinguished.” Still, I’m far from being immune to the hellaciously gorgeous young men on the movie screens; yes I admit I was one of the gaspers when Jacob removed his shirt. The vision in the fog right now was one of those gasping moments. Lucky me, I was completely naked too! (That’s sarcasm in case you didn’t notice, I was mortified!) I sunk into the water like I’d suddenly found the deep end without my knowledge. A large splash ensued and I could hear Chris laughing at the top of the steps behind me. “Excuse my bride. I don’t think she expected to find anyone in the water this early in the morning!” Chris chuckled holding his hand out to the man in the water with me.

“Right. Well… good morning then! I’m Jonah Ellrod. Actually, I just flew in this morning and thought that a nice soak would wash away the stiffness from the flight.” I watched the two men shake hands as Chris’s pale in comparison body entered the water. Stop! By pale I don’t mean less than wonderful, I mean pale as in a lighter color. “That was our plan as well. Somewhat of an active day yesterday…” Chris left the comment unfinished. I’m sure in an effort not to raise any of my emotional issues from the day before with this new attendee. “No worries, I’m used to missing all the real fun.” Jonah’s British accent stood out amidst Chris’s southern dialect. “So Laura, it’s so nice to finally meet you in person.” Still utterly caught off guard by my friend’s wildly fantastic looks I slid back onto the seat of the hot tub and forced a congenial smile. “It’s great to finally meet you in person too Jonah!” Now that was true, we’d spent a lot of time talking on the internet together and had grown to what I consider to be friends. I think I just expected him to be some pot bellied old guy with a Santa beard or something, his writing indicates that he’s somewhat of a perfectionist. Typically I don’t find that to be true of someone this young. “So tell me about all the fun I missed?” Jonah’s smile was genuine and full of laughter. I could see how I mistook him for someone much older; he had a natural tendency of someone wise. I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, my naked ass grazing the tiled hot tub seat. Thankfully Chris took over the conversation and soon I found myself listening to the two men chatting about their writings, editing and publishing. As I watched them carefully, the strangeness of the situation came to bear. My online friend Jonah appeared to have a rather large and hard cock soaking beneath the water. So large in fact that the head was timidly peeking just above the water as it swirled around him. It stood out like a miniature island in the mass of a vortex. I sipped my coffee pretending not to notice the bulbous head glaring at me. I’ve never really understood why men suddenly get hard near me; Chris claims it’s my tits. They are huge; I’m embarrassed to say they are watermelon sized rather than a more normal cantaloupe or grapefruit. While it definitely makes bra shopping a lifelong battle, I’ve come to learn that they have their benefits. Currently they were doing their own swimming exercises in the water, floating in circles and shivering with the movements of the water. I soon realized, amidst my day dreaming and inner conversation that Chris and Jonah had moved on either side of me. The loud hum of the jets from the hot tub and the splashing water had given them cause to move closer in order to hear one another. Almost as an afterthought to their chat I felt Jonah’s thick, dark hand on my left breast. He was fiddling with it as though it were a pen in his hand as he thought up a creative story. The absent minded action instantly caused my clit to throb. I sat silently listening to their talk, Chris’s hand on my thigh and Jonah’s hand on my nipple. Do they even realize what they are doing to me? I doubted it; it seemed like they didn’t know what they were doing. I’m used to this from Chris, he tends to fiddle with me when he’s thinking, like he needs something in his hands in order to process complicated thought. Maybe all male writers are the same? Regardless it was an odd situation to be in, at least for me. Somehow I’d stepped into a magical hot tub where someone I’d never met before playing with my nipple was okay and even accepted as normal. Even stranger, at least for mortal folk, is the fact that I was quickly growing more and more enticed by my position between them. The head of Jonah’s thick cock still roamed in the water, now it was within my hand’s reach though. Chris caught my gaze, his hand slid between my thighs now and playfully plucked at my swollen clit. His fingers were the size of small tree branches, one of the features I loved about him. They teased and toyed with me below the water. “Whew… it’s getting too hot in here!” Jonah’s lithe body lifted to sit on the edge of the steaming hot tub. He leaned forward to continue his talk with Chris. The long, coffee colored cock now swung low to touch the water between his legs. Seeing the massive instrument in full view now I wasn’t aware of the gasp that escaped my mouth. The men’s conversation stopped suddenly with my outburst. The direction of my stare was outright rude and glaring with lust. Chris’s bellowed laugh sounded above the natural noises in the tiled room. “Laura honey, do you see something you can’t live without?” That was my saying when I was shopping but not for anything in particular. I’d say if I find something I absolutely can’t live without then I’ll buy it. I was caught off guard; I hadn’t thought they were paying attention to me at all. “Um…well…it IS rather nice.” Now I felt like an awkward teenager. “By all means, Laura!” Jonah swung his hips sideways on the hot tub deck to put me face to face with the monstrous cock between his legs. I looked at Chris questioningly. “Go ahead Laura, you deserve it!” He answered with a low laugh. My hand lifted the weighty prick, testing the size of it in my palm. It wasn’t the size that caught me off guard; several of the men at The Plantation (book of the same title available for yourE-Readers) at home had giant cocks. The color was my instant impression. Against the paleness of my hand complete with blood red

fingernails against his lush espresso skin shocked me. A curious combination that any woman would have found mesmerizing; his cock was glimmering in my hand. Small specks of heated spray from the water below made it seem like a crystal covered icon from some magical world. The magical hot tub world on the Fifth Floor of the hotel! My mouth nearly drooled to taste it. The men continued their conversation, again seeming to forget my presence even though Chris’s hand was still twiddling with my clit and my hand was firmly grasping Jonah’s cumbersome Johnson. For many women this would have seemed a rather gauche position to be in. Let me explain, when my clit gets interested all sense of proper social conduct completely flies from my mind. I’ve never been one to wonder at the familiar phrase that men think with the little head instead of the one on top. My clit may not be a mammoth organ but it speaks to me all the same. At this moment it was screaming. I turned around and put my hands on either side of Jonah’s waist, my knees on the tiled bench below the water, my ass in the air. My lips sought his firm head, it was already brimming with the sweet liquid that I needed. Trying my best to take him gently into my mouth I licked the rim of the head with honest infatuation. My new chocolate cock presented itself and returned my intrigue. I alternated licking and sucking the bulbous head until more of the honey tasting liquid dripped from it. It was my prize it seemed, like a reward for a job well done. Quickly I integrated the head into my mouth, as though it was a part of my innards that had been haphazardly forgotten during creation. I needed it inside of me desperately. My nipples were hard as rocks against his knees as I sucked and tickled his cock. I was a lover in love, in love with a prick that held my full attention. Jonah’s conversation with Chris ended during some point of my mouth hug. Now I heard deepening moans and felt his massive hands on the back of my head as he pushed me forward. “Yes, suck that brown dick Laura!” Jonah’s deep voice boomed throughout the tiled room. My gag reflex is sometimes annoying, but this morning it seemed to be behaving. I found myself mysteriously able to take him deep into my throat. He maneuvered my head gently, as though he understood the length of his cock. I’m sure he’d encountered this before, women anxiously trying to take the entire beast into their mouths but I was all the same touched by his care. “It’s so big!” I muttered, drool sliding from the corners of my lips. Chris moved behind me, after so many years of following me around indulging my sexual whims he sensed that my needs including something to satisfy my pounding pussy. Already my inner walls were convulsing with the need to be filled. His cock slid in amongst the moisture inside me without a hitch. He moved slowly, then faster as I wiggled my ass cheeks to urge him on. His thrusts forced me deeper and deeper onto Jonah’s chocolate cock. For one moment I giggled, dark chocolate in my mouth and white chocolate in my pussy-what more could a woman ask for? I had a renewed sense of happiness and giddiness now; I used that joy to lavish this lovely prick in my mouth. I wanted this moment to last forever, but I felt Jonah’s heavy balls tightening under my chin. My own orgasm was heading through me on the fast track as well so as Chris pounded me from behind I let nature take its course. I sucked harder and with unbridled passion now. Jonah bucked his head backwards, I felt like I was in for a rodeo as his cock thrust towards me. The hot cum sprang from the slit in his cock with an almost reckless flow, the sheer amount was more than my mouth and throat could hold. It squirted down my face, up my nose, and oozed down my neck onto my overly large tits. My own orgasm was on the verge and Chris took me over that edge by reaching beneath me and pressing hard on my clit. I roared with ecstasy, my mouth drooling with Jonah’s cum. If Chris spewed his own come onto my back I couldn’t testify to it if I had to. I’d lost touch with reality somewhere between the massive amount of cum all over me and the orgasm that had nearly split me in half. Slowly Chris moved back, removing his softened cock from between my legs. That gave me the space to lean back and turn to sit down on the hot tub bench. I was breathing heavily, Jonah’s hand came from out of my range of vision and he handed me a fresh bottle of water. The water was warm from having sat in the steamy room during this time but the liquid was what I needed to flush the stickiness from the inside of my mouth. “Thanks Jonah.” I mumbled trying to gather my wits. “No Laura, thank YOU!” his deep laugh filled the room.

Back in our room I showered and cleaned myself up. It was ten in the morning and I already felt exhausted. The hot water, the incredible orgasm, and the

excitement of having that wonderful chocolate cock in my mouth seemed to have wiped me out. “Chris baby, can you dry my back for me?” I handed him the towel and turned my back to him. As he wiped the moisture from my back it occurred to me that he didn’t seem upset about what had just happened in the hot tub. “Chris, are you mad at me?” “Why on earth would I be mad?” His blue eyes still seemed to be enjoying some inner joke. I turned completely around to stare into them, checking for any sign of regret. There was none apparent, still his greatest complaint in our marriage was that I was already screwing someone, rarely was that him. “No, no reason. I’m really tired though, honey would you mind if I took a little cat nap?” “So I’m going to these lectures this morning by myself?” He was truly disappointed I could tell. My eyes were already struggling to stay open as I lay down on the comfortable hotel bed. “Just this once baby, please? Can I just sleep a bit?” I awoke about four hours later; my eyes anxiously searched the dark room for Chris. Foggily my mind recalled the morning’s adventure. I glanced at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. It was already two in the afternoon. Chris would be at the publishing lecture at this point. The entire conference was sponsored by Blastwords, and this was their Tips for Publishing Lecture. I wasn’t sorry I was missing that. As I’ve mentioned, Chris handles all that so basically I’d just be sitting there bored the entire time. I climbed from the bed and went to the bathroom to relieve myself. As I came into the bedroom again I flipped on a few lights. Chris had turned them all off and drawn the curtains, apparently after I’d fallen asleep on him. He’d also left a gift for me. There’d been vendors set up in the Lobby downstairs, various “toy” salesmen, lingerie booths and other items of inspiration. I understood those sales tables to be more for the “fans” than the writers themselves but clearly Chris had been a patron. On the chair beside the bed was an outfit, almost identical to one I described in The Tramp Stamp Club (available for your E-Readers.) I’d worn such an outfit at my initiation to the Club. (The Tramp Stamp Club-Slut Wife Training.) I dare to admit that I hadn’t worn anything remotely like that in all the years since though. The outfit consisted of a bustier made of soft black leather, only it didn’t cover my breasts it simply boosted them to an all new level. There were wrist bands of the same leather with a silver hook attached to them. There were thigh high stockings with garter, no panties included. A spiked collar also with a silver hook and a pair of above the knee black leather boots, all rather Goth looking in my opinion and a look that I didn’t necessarily feel sexy wearing. It was fairly clear that Chris was pissed at me; he obviously hadn’t given much thought to what I cared. I’m not one for role playing or dressing up in fancy outfits. I always feel awkward and embarrassed, as though I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. Certainly I am not a serious dominatrix; I don’t have a mean bone in my body. Hang on…dominatrix outfits didn’t usually include chains did they? Whoa! The vision was slowly occurring to me, he was going to chain me down and dominate ME! Wow, for the most part, the Tramp Stamp Club was about keeping our men in total control. We give them a sex life only a King could afford, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves doing it but I’d long ago enjoyed the fact that it kept our past their prime husbands in tow. That sounds horrible, but the truth of the matter is that a man with an exhausted cock isn’t likely to wander far, so the premise is to keep it fully expunged at all times. Now I saw clearly what was happening. I’d forgotten to tend to Chris’s needs, the constant comments about how he was the only one around me not getting fucked was how he really felt. Now he was going to punish me, chain me up like Mike in The Plantation and screw me to a wall…literally. Still, not one to avoid taking my just due, I sat down and started pulling on the thigh high stockings. No, he was right; I’d forgotten my place and turned into this wild assed slut that did everyone and everything accept my one major concern-my own husband. Whatever he needed to do to me was what I deserved. The more I thought about what I’d done to the one man in the world who loved me, the more I felt like total crap. This entire weekend had been one long lesson in misery and this was the icing on the cake. Tears ran down my cheeks as I finished donning my submissive attire. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, scribbled on some dark lipstick and returned to the bed. In a moment I found my way to the tiny refrigerator, a shot of something would ease my nerves. I hadn’t been submissive since my orientation night at the Tramp Stamp Club and found myself a total mess. My hands were trembling and I hoped I didn’t need to hold onto anything to keep my balance because the tequila I was drinking was already going directly to my head. I sat in silence for only a few minutes. The hotel room door opened and Chris’s massive form blocked the light from the hallway beyond. He had a scowl on his face, I couldn’t tell whether it was part of his act or whether I was getting ready to get a whip. “Stand up Laura.” He ordered, not an ounce of compassion in his voice. He pulled a black scarf from his pants pocket and stepped towards me. Tying it around my face, and eyes he whispered. “You need to be punished Laura. You’ve been a bad, bad girl. You can’t write, yet you are here flaunting yourself as a writer. You just came here to fuck all your favorite writers. Well, you’ve done that. The only one here you don’t seem to be paying attention to is me. You suck a huge black cock in front of me but don’t seem to notice that I didn’t even get a

chance to come. Not only that but once you and your chocolate lover were done you forgot all about my needs. Now you are going to pay for your crimes.” My vision went black. The scarf completely covered my eyes. “Come with me you little fuck bunny, let me show you something.” His hands pulled me across the room. I realized that he’d opened the door! What was he doing? Taking me out into public like this? That was cruel it seemed even under the circumstances. I shivered as the cool air from the hallway hit my exposed breasts. I was whimpering. “Chris no! Please don’t humiliate me!” Begging him to stop, take me back to the room, whatever embarrassment, punishment I deserved could be handled in the privacy of our own hotel room. Chris was unyielding as he dragged me down the hallway blindfolded and crying. Another door opened and he pushed me through. A few steps later and my thighs hit a ledge. My hands fought to feel what it was in front of me. A plastic table is what it felt like, one of those sturdy ones that they use for conferences like this one. “Get on the table Laura!” Chris ordered, still not a hint of compassion or love in his tone. I stopped crying and begging long enough to climb on top of the table. “On your hands and knees you cum loving whore!” I did as he instructed; the table was hard and hurt my knees. I suppose that is all part of the punishment though. His hand grasped my ponytail and yanked it hard. Tears ran from my eyes at the stinging of my hair being pulled so forcefully. Somehow he tied my hair like that, so that my head was forcibly held upwards. I assumed it was so that I could suck his cock. It did hurt though, if I tried to lower my face-somehow hide it-it felt as if the back of my skull would come off. The cock hit my lips only a moment later, it was unfamiliar. No one was talking in the room; I’d thought that only Chris and I were there. Oh my God! Who was in here with us? I couldn’t have asked if I’d wanted to though as the cock in front of me was forcing its way into my mouth. A second later I felt another hand on me, spreading my thighs, putting a cold wet gel in my opening. I knew that scent, it was cherry. What I was utterly shocked at was the fact that the instant the gel hit my clit it suddenly became numb. Sad to say, but I don’t know many women who can reach orgasm without at least a little clitoral stimulation, now mine was rendered useless. So this was the game, I was to be fucked and forced to suck cock and not come. Yes, this was what I deserved, just like I’d done to him earlier. I took my punishment. Cock after raging cock came on my face. With already one cock in my pussy I felt more gel go onto my ass. The table rocked gently as someone climbed on the table and straddled me from behind. I then felt another cock going towards my ass. I struggled to move, to get up, get away from my tormentors but they’d chained me to the table without my realizing it. I was bound completely, the Incredible Hulk couldn’t get out of the bindings these men had put on me. The thick cock pressed itself into my ass. A range of emotions struggled through me; I felt like screaming in agony but there was none. My ass was totally numb. There was only the throbbing pressure of the cock in my pussy and the one plunging into my asshole. It wasn’t as if the line of cocks poking around near my tonsils stopped either. Cock after cock was fed to me as I was forced to suck them dry. In retrospect, I could have simply bitten down and stopped that portion of the humiliation, that’s not my nature though. Besides, I realized deep in my heart that I deserved this massive fucking. If I was going to be a whore, Chris was going to make sure that my every orifice was filled, countless times. At this moment I was completely filled, so no more damage could be done. I was completely covered in spilt cum, dripping down my face and neck onto my exposed nipples rapidly, like each new stream needed a name and possibly a Conservation status. (Get it? Stream-conservation? Oh well, it was funny to me.) I drew in a deep breath; the cock in my mouth had changed. At minimum it gave me the opportunity to catch my breath. That’s when the terror began, a body slid beneath me on the table. It wasn’t a large man, one of a smaller stature. My blindfold was intact though so the only senses I had left was touch. He didn’t seem large. Hand’s fumbled beneath me, from behind me…between my legs. The man beneath me pushed his cock inside me slightly below the cock that was already there. Two fully hard pricks inside, pushing in unison, stretching me beyond anything I’d ever known. The other cock still in my ass rocked my insides with a tightness I’d never felt before. I’d never been fucked like this before; there was not room for one iota more inside me. In most cases, with a slut like me, you’d think that I was thoroughly enjoying this, but my clit and ass were completely numb. I couldn’t come no matter what. Oh yes, Chris understood me all too well. This was the extreme punishment for a slut, to be fucked by three men at the same time, in my pussy, one in my ass and one in my mouth and not be able to enjoy it. My own private version of hell, lesson learned. The last of the cocks came on me, over me and around me, one by one they withdrew. I was left alone, minus all my former contact, dripping and gasping for air on the cold plastic table. “Go ahead and take her blindfold off now,” Chris’s voice sounded from across the room. I knew he hadn’t been one of the ones fucking me, but now he sounded rather weak himself. The glaring lights from the banquet room blinded me. As my vision began to correct itself I gazed in hope of finding Chris nearby, I wanted to beg him for forgiveness and explain that I’d learned my lesson.

As I focused what I saw terrified me. “Chris NO!” I screamed. For the length of our time in the Tramp Stamp Club and even our adventures at The Plantation I’d not been fond of having other women fuck my husband. I can’t explain it and it’s never been an issue. He could get his cock sucked, although I wasn’t fond of that either really, but outright fucking other women, no. It drove me absolutely insane to have any other pussy near my husband. At the moment he was deep inside Tonya, fucking her and clearly enjoying it. “Let me down right this minute.” I screamed. His head turned from Tonya’s ass, she was bent over a chair with him screwing her from behind. He glared at me, “You think it’s your punishment to be fucked and not be able to enjoy it?” I spat with fury at the sight of his cock, hard as a rock, going in and out of Tonya. “Oh no dear Laura, your punishment is watching ME come all over these two gorgeous REAL writers while YOU watch!” Sarina was already lying on the sofa along the wall covered in his come; I assumed it was his. At least I only had to watch him fuck Tonya now. The fury rolled through my veins. I was screaming at him again. A young hand came forward and gagged me with a ball the size of a billiard ball. The rubber ball in my mouth only served to make my heart race further. “Oh yeah, your lovely cunt is making me come Tonya!” Chris’s voice now stood out in the quiet room. His moans were louder now, louder than I’d heard him with me in a long, long time. Tonya was moaning as well, I could see her face twisting in orgasm. After all I knew what her orgasm looked like because only yesterday I’d been the one in between her legs. Chris pulled out and sent a stream of his hot cum across her back. His head rolled back in total pleasure. I was crying uncontrollably now, his little plan had backfired terribly. All I wanted was to get away, to get away from all his little boy toys who he’d sent to torture me and especially to get away from him and Tonya and Sarina. I was untied and ungagged; I knew the entire room was waiting for my explosion. I glanced around at the four young men who’d fucked me. One held a bathrobe for me and tenderly covered my near naked body. The other three seemed to be timid as little mice. I glared at them all with hatred that I felt deep within me, not for them but for my beloved husband. “Who the fuck are you anyway?” I asked, my anger spewing from my words. “Um… Mrs. Cooper, we are the publishing team from Blastwords.” The small fellow blurted. “Oh, to hell with all of you.” I screamed and ran for the door.

Chris wasn’t able to stop me; his mountainous form blocked the doorway and chased me down the sidewalk in front of the hotel. That was it; I was done with this enormous asshole forever. I thrust my body, now fully dressed into a cab. “Get me to the airport… NOW!” I yelled at the foreign driver. Whether it was my tone or Chris’s thick hands banging on the cab door I don’t know but the driver hit the gas with lightening speed. As the cab hit the interstate I was already muttering statements such as “we’ll see if THIS stays in Vegas!” and other creative words that I’d rather not write down at this time. At the airport I arranged the first flight home. I didn’t have to wait; as a matter of fact a flight was boarding now. The cheery woman at the ticket counter took my credit card far too happily for my taste. I probably still had come on my face; I could feel the tightness it makes when it dries on my skin. I didn’t care, I just wanted to get home and in my own bathtub and bed. Judging by the face that met me at Charleston International Airport I guessed that phone calls had been made. The elderly Jonathon Galloway stood waiting for me. “Good afternoon, Laura.” His voice seemed deep with concern. I ran into his arms as fast as my shaking legs could carry me. “Oh Jonathon! It was horrible!” “I know, I know. Chris called me. Come on, the car is waiting.” I settled into Jonathon’s lush Mercedes and leaned my head on the headrest. My brain jumbled with so many thoughts. “Oh Jonathon, what am I going to do?” Jonathon Galloway is the husband of the original member of the Tramp Stamp Club. Although up in age, no woman that I know of has ever considered his age when eager to fuck him; he was immune to age it seemed. I wish I felt that way. Right now would be a good time to start feeling like that actually. Instead, right now I

was inwardly abusing myself and outwardly acting like a baboon. Jonathon tilted his head towards me, “Laura, I’ve never seen you like this! What in the world happened?” I recalled the entire weekend to my dear friend as he drove at breakneck speed across Charleston. His compassion for my predicament was clear, yet somehow I got the impression that I was astonishing him somehow. He was confusing me with his expressions; they were as if I was speaking in Latin. I changed my tactics eager for him to pamper me understanding. “Tell me what Chris told you.” Perhaps there were two totally different versions of what had happened this weekend and I needed to know my adversary. “He told me about Tonya, Sarina and Jonah, and then he told me how he went too far in trying to get you to understand his feelings.” “Too FAR? Oh really? So he thinks that was TOO far? I wonder what would have been more appropriate in his mind? Perhaps slicing my heart from my chest altogether would have been more fun for him. No, no Jonathon I have his message loud and clear, he wants to fuck other women and wants me to not only watch, but enjoy watching.” Jonathon shifted uncomfortably in his leather seat, “Laura, seriously you need to calm down a bit. Rationalize this. Don’t you think that Ella gets jealous watching me train all of the sluts who join our Club?” I sat motionless for a moment staring at him as if I’d never seen him before. “I never really thought much about it. Ella seems like she is open to anything. I guess I assumed she didn’t mind.” “Oh she minds. What she KNOWS is a different matter.” “And what exactly is it that she knows that I don’t know?” Now I was irritated with my old friend and my tone reeked of it. “Don’t get testy with me, young lady. I will pull this car over right now and put you in your place myself!” He reprimanded me, instantly reminding me that Jonathon has license where no other man does. Because of his status as Ella’s husband and Tramp Stamp Club trainer, he has the ability to make a woman ooze cum all over herself without so much as a touch. I’ve never been able to grasp the enormity of his talent, just superiority, a grace, a love that shows no bounds. Because he loves us so much and protects us with his heart and soul, we all pretty much yield to his every whim. Not that he has that many anymore, but let’s just suffice it to say that Jonathon Galloway has a way of making women want to do what he tells them to. Some men are just naturally that charming; others strive to be like him. I leaned back in his leather seat with a huff. “Alright… you win. Just please take me home Jonathon. All I want is to soak in my tub and cuddle up in my bed.” He looked at me incredulously, “You have truly lost your marbles if you think I’m taking you to The Wilderness tonight. Oh no… I have strict instructions from Ella that you are to come straight home with us. As a matter of fact I’d be surprised if everyone isn’t there already.” “Ooooh…” I groaned. His tender smile now turned my way, “Sweetheart, it isn’t often that one of our girls goes totally off the charts crazy like you did this weekend. And for the record, Ella gave Chris a talking to on the phone as well. I was listening, she put it on speakerphone, it sounded to me like the man was ready to crap his pants.” “Sucks that this is the high point of my day,” I mumbled envisioning Chris tied up in Ella’s attic with metal clothespins attached to his nipples having hot candle wax poured over him. Jonathon chuckled as we turned into his driveway. He was totally on key when he said that Ella had most likely called everyone. It was early evening now, twilight was hitting downtown Charleston and most residents were at home sipping a cool cocktail by now. Yet the street in front of Jonathon and Ella’s home was packed with the all too familiar vehicles. Karen’s Range Rover was precariously driven over the curb within inches of a fire hydrant. She was my best friend in the world and it appeared as if when she got the call all else went to hell. I imagined her racing across the Ravenel Bridge at break neck speed flipping all the other, slower moving cars off. Jonathon opened the massive wooden front doors and I was literally swarmed with women. Within seconds they had nearly undressed me, checking for physical wounds I suppose, thrust a strong glass of Belinda’s famous margaritas into my hand and drug me from the foyer into the living room. They were all talking at once, mainly threats towards Chris. Clearly my husband was safe nowhere at this moment. According to the chatter around me it was his balls that should be in hiding. “Hugf hmm…” Ella’s musical voice rang above the bitch session. Silence came over the living room almost instantly. All faces turned towards our leader, the most respected of our pack of sluts. “Ladies, if you will please take Laura upstairs and get her settled. Karen, I suspect you are staying over tonight so if you will please take care of her.” Karen nodded, her dark ponytail flipping in the air as she turned to head towards me. “Come on baby. Let’s get you upstairs and in a hot tub. To be honest, I

just came out of the barn when Ella called, so I think I’ll soak with you.” The crowd of my dearest friends seemed to dissipate somewhat, each of them anxious to help me through whatever trauma I’d encountered. It felt so wonderful to be surrounded by them, to be in a place where I was loved and respected. For the past two days I hadn’t felt loved or respected. I’d felt like a writer poser pretending to be something I’m not. The other writers clearly saw me for what I was, a whore who does nothing more than write down her slutty activities. I followed Karen up the stairs, Belinda already had the bath running and my other friends were busy making sure that my short stay would be comfortable. As Karen helped me into the tub, I winced at the sharp pain coming from my pussy. She looked startled, glanced fumingly at Belinda who’d pulled up a chair next to the giant eagle clawed bathtub. Karen climbed into the water a minute after me and arranged our legs, one of hers, mine, hers, mine. We were intertwined now, her closeness giving me the comfort that I needed. With a look towards Belinda then back at me she finally asked, “Okay Laura tell us what happened.” I watched their expressions as I recalled the entire weekend, again. When I finished, I sat in silence waiting on their appraisal. Belinda looked at me in awe, “Okay, so his actions were a bit overdone. Still, I’m assuming you got his meaning?” “It’s true, Laura,” said Karen. “You and Chris have been drifting apart for a while now. I’ve noticed it. A while back I couldn’t even call you two before nine in the morning because you were making love. Lately you seem to be going your own way while Chris sits back and watches.” I sat in the hot water considering, a few hours ago I wouldn’t have listened to such utter nonsense. Now, coming from my two best friends it was not only plausible but made me feel like garbage. They were right of course, however screwed up his methods were in showing me how awry I’d gone, he still had a point. “Alright! Enough of this. Come on Laura, let’s get you to bed and see about giving you that orgasm that someone purposely left behind.” Karen smiled tenderly across the bathtub from me. As Karen and Belinda dried my now pink and rosy skin I thought more about what had happened. Everyone here loved Chris. Sure, they were mad at his methods, but the bottom line was that they all agreed that he had a valid point. Hell even I agreed he had a point. Not a point like the sky is blue either, I’d gotten so far into my own sexual pleasures that I’d forgotten what this was all about. It was about us being together, drawing us closer to one another. At least that’s why I’d joined The Tramp Stamp Club in the first place. My best friends lowered me onto the bed. Karen’s kisses covered me romantically as Belinda licked my clit with the utmost care. As Karen sucked my nipples, Belinda’s fingers found my g-spot and toyed with it until I groaned. A moment later a soft vibrating dildo was put on my clit. The vibration sent me to a form of Heaven as Belinda’s fingers quickly brought me to orgasm. The girls had known exactly what I needed, I needed that forgotten orgasm, the one I left in Las Vegas, and I needed it fast. They carefully worked around my sore bottom and brought me the orgasm that I desperately required. I was tired, exhausted, and it wasn’t long before I began to drift off under their attentions. Through the night I caught glimpses of the two of them in the bed with me, making love to one another as only women can. I was not jostled by their movements though; their moans were caught up in my dreams. Being here in the bed with them making love together was my comfort. It was late when I felt Belinda’s mouth on my forehead, “Good night, sweet Laura.” The next morning I awoke to the loud musical chimes from the downstairs doorbell. I heard Chris’s voice downstairs. Waiting silently to hear his heavy footsteps on the steps, I pretended my eyes were closed and I was still sound asleep. I took a peak at the clock on the mantel across the room; it was barely eight in the morning. He must have caught the six a.m. flight out of Las Vegas. I’d hoped that he would come directly upstairs so that I could tell him how sorry I was over what had happened. Instead, I could hear Ella’s shrill voice ordering him into the Library. Oh hell! I jumped from the bed and threw on the clothes that someone, probably Karen, had laid out for me. There was only a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, so I was going bra-less and panty-less this morning. I raced down the mahogany stairs into the foyer. Through the closed Library doors I could hear Ella’s voice close to screaming. “The next time you decide to use your fucking imagination, do yourself a favor and call me first! Do I make myself clear?” I threw open the heavy pocket doors and rushed into the room. The sight in front of me would normally have raised a tinge of humor. There was my 275 pound husband trying his best to blend into a leather wingback chair as far as he could. With my sudden entrance, he looked at me begging, his eyes were pleading with me to call off my pit bull. As Ella backed away and removed the sharp bright red manicured fingernail from the tip of his nose I saw exactly how tired he seemed. Dark circles underneath his eyes, a drained pallid skin color, and the same clothes he’d been wearing yesterday. Jonathon stood when I entered the room, “Good Laura. So glad you’re up. Ella and I stayed up far past our bedtime last night trying to figure out the best way to handle this problem.” I sat down on Ella’s chaise lounge at her feet. The elderly woman had already resumed her normal spot in the room.

“And what have you come to?” Chris mumbled. His dread was one that was well founded and shared by me. Ella and Jonathon shared a slight hint of a smile; Ella looked at me still perched on the bottom edge of the chaise lounge she laid on. “You, Laura, are going to watch Chris fuck me while he watches Jonathon fuck you. We’re going to show you how this is done properly. Then my dears, you will go home. Laura, stand up and undress.” Her eyes strayed to Chris, “Do the same.” I stood up, my knees shaking, my eyes pleaded with Chris once again. He was supposed to always be my knight in shining armor, yet somehow we were both powerless at the moment. He nodded in my direction giving me the sign to go ahead. I stood, like a good Tramp Stamp Club slut wife, and did as I was told. Jonathon’s booming voice startled me as I was so engrossed in the expression on Chris’s face that I didn’t realize that he’d come across the room and was standing beside me. “Laura, lay back on the lounge. I want you and Ella in the exact same position.” I sat back down and sat crossways on the chaise lounge, Ella twisted her small frame and sat next to me in the same manner. I was nervous, she was not. Jonathon pulled Chris over to stand in front of us. The picture was one of submission, two strong, masculine men standing over two frail women. Ella was frail in size; I was frail in emotional well being. “Ladies, sit forward and suck us hard please.” Jonathon instructed. I had to admit I was curious as to how Ella was going to do it, would Chris like it better than when I did it? As we pulled their limp cocks into our mouths my eyes stayed glued to Chris’s face. I wanted to see him pleasured; I wanted to know if she did anything that excited him that I could use at a later date. I couldn’t help but notice that Ella’s eyes never once strayed from Jonathon’s face. At this moment she was one with Jonathon and I was one with Chris. Amazing, considering my mouth was sucking Jonathon’s heavy cock and she was sucking my husband. It wasn’t long before I saw Chris’s head tilt back, as though he suddenly saw something on the ceiling that needed his attention. I took this chance to offer even more effort to Jonathon’s large prick. In moments both men were moaning in pleasure. I’d sucked Jonathon’s cock before, during my Slut Wife Training (Available in multiple formats for your E-Reader.) As usual it was a powerful organ that made an impression. I’d long ago given up judging Jonathon’s age, my guess was near seventy. He and Ella both had a strange way of diverting time from their bodies; both of them appeared much younger than their actual years. Ella’s breasts still bounced with a natural audacity. Kind of funny, at some point after all the Vampire books I’ve read I almost wondered if they were eternal, perhaps they had a basement full of human blood they survived on. How romantic that would be! As my lips surrounded the gray hairs next to Jonathon’s mammoth cock, I knew that not to be true. Still both of them just exuded sex. I silently said a prayer, when I am their age I want to be just like them! Right now, Jonathon’s cock was my rosary; I wrapped my fingers around its base and sucked with my heart and soul Chris’s cock was only inches from my face being sucked equally by Ella. I couldn’t keep my eyes from his face. He was physically enjoying this, that much was clear, but his eyes never left my face. I saw the tiny droplets of his pre-cum on the tip of his head when Ella withdrew, he was ready. My tongue had been toying with drops of it from Jonathon’s cock for a few minutes now. Jonathon’s hands went to my shoulders; he pushed me back on the chaise lounge, spreading my thighs with his gorgeous hands. In a moment he was before me, kneeling on the chaise, his cock rubbing against my clit. Even still sore from the previous day my clit responded, he rubbed the sensuous prick up and down my slit lubricating it with a mixture of our juices. I looked to the side; Chris was already inside Ella, moving slowly in and out of her. His eyes still glued to my face, his expression was one of true love. I imagined him inside of me; Jonathon and Ella seemed to disappear for us. At this very moment we were making love to one another albeit the physical acts themselves were within other people. My clit and pussy responded as Jonathon entered me. The pain in my crotch now gone as he masterfully opened my walls to insert himself. Magically his cock seemed to go directly to my g-spot; he was as amazing inside me as he was at all other times. Tenderly he pushed his way inside me; it was a gentle love song that seemed to put me in a trance. I floated along with him, all the while staring into the endless crystal blue pools of my husband’s eyes. It was a dream I was sure, wave after wave of emotion seemed to flow over me and out of my body. A meditation of sorts, a fantasy that was filled with expressions of romance and excitement, my pussy responded joyfully. If someone had told me that a woman’s erratic emotions could be treated and healed by fucking, I would have laughed at them. It sounded far too much like a pervert psychologist’s way of getting into his patients pants. Yet I could feel the stress and pain of the previous days leaving my body. Everything was becoming so much clearer now. Jonathon’s cock pressed me, filled me, and now was taking me towards a thrilling orgasm. In my dream I’d momentarily lost track of Chris, frantically I searched for him with my eyes. He wasn’t hard to find, he was the one towering over Ella with tears in his eyes. The constant velvet pressure within my pussy walls climbed another level. Quickly I was moved to near quivering with need to come. My hips acted and pushed forward to greet Jonathon’s massive prick. The gray pubic hairs I’d recently studied up close were now meshed in my clit, offering a titillating feeling against my shaved pussy. He was deep within me; groaning as he tried to maintain control. He and Ella seemed to have some schedule; as soon as I felt his liquid rupture inside

me, I saw Chris’s eyes flutter in his head. He was coming inside Ella at the same time Jonathon was exploding inside me. Magical. That’s all I can say about that. The daze I was in seemed like being in another world. By the time I realized what was going on and where I was I’d been rearranged on the chaise lounge next to Chris. Ella and Jonathon were pouring tea across the room from a silver pitcher. “Here… you two drink some tea. It will make you feel better.” Ella handed us two chilled glasses of sweet iced tea. “You were wonderful by the way,” she said as she kissed Chris gently on his lips. “Yes, yes… that was delightful. I hope that you two see now that the physical act of sex has absolutely nothing to do with making love?” Jonathon spoke quietly. “We can all enjoy sex, but making love is something that is between the two of you. I suppose you noticed that even though it was my cock inside you, Laura, you felt like you were with Chris?” I sat silently. I had felt that way. I’d felt like we were one person. That’s a feeling I hadn’t had for a long, long time. “Alright then. You kids need to get on home. I don’t expect to see or hear from you for the next week or so. Take this time to learn to make love to one another again. We’ll see you when you’re ready, and not a minute before,” Jonathon said as he smiled in understanding. Jonathon and Ella left the Library, and Chris and I found ourselves alone. He leaned over me, pressing his massive chest across mine. “Laura, let’s go home.”

Four hundred written pages of our sex that following week would be rather mundane, even in my opinion. So I’m just going to tell you what happened and how I came to the realization that I am a writer. By the time we made the long drive home from Jonathon’s and Ella’s, it was forty five minutes later. The Wilderness is quite frankly in the woods. That’s the way we wanted it originally, of course now as I’ve mentioned we’ve decided that island life would suit us better. To be honest, it’s also much less of a drive from Charleston to the island. But today we took advantage of the long drive out to our home in the woods and did some online banking via our cell phones, made calls to our children and friends. Basically we deposited enough money into our kid’s accounts so that they would leave us alone for a week. We told them in no uncertain terms that unless they were gushing blood, they need not call. I called Karen and told her what had happened at Jonathon and Ella’s and that we were going off line for a week. We needed some time to re-group and fall in love again. I requested that she spread the word through our circle of friends. Then I went online and purchased a week long cruise to the Bahamas’ for Steven. Steven is our live in vet. Oh, it’s not that exotic, trust me. We have horses, dogs and cats and our barn just happens to have an apartment above it. Steven’s life with us started out simply: he could have the apartment free of charge, and he just had to tend to the medical needs of our animals also, free of charge. While it’s true, I have fucked Steven on occasion, really his relationship with us both is a true friendship. Even though his practice has taken off, he has remained in the apartment over our barn. He needed to start his life. He worked far too hard, and too many long hours didn’t leave much time for finding his soul mate. It just so happened that I’d heard that Jonathon and Ella’s niece Bethany was going on a cruise to the Bahamas this week. Being the eternal matchmaker that I am, I decided that the two needed to meet. Steven was resistant to the idea at first, but his partner in his veterinary office told him to go enjoy himself… after all, that’s why he had a partner in the first place. So he could take some time off if he needed. Therefore, all details were handled. We were completely alone for an entire week. For the record, I also cancelled the house cleaning service for the week and since the weather already had rain scheduled for the entire week, we didn’t worry over construction at the house on the island. Our contractor would be calling in the morning to tell us no work would be done this week anyway. It sounds like we were adding more work to our already full platter. Now we had to clean our own house, do our own laundry and tend to our own animals. Really, it was much like all those years ago when we’d first met. That in itself would bring us back to our original love for each other. The plan worked too. We lived and breathed one another for the entire week. It was a vacation within our own home. Our own private party. We drank countless bottles of wine, soaked in our hot tub, swam in the pool in the rain, talked endlessly, and kissed all the time. I was totally charmed with my husband, but the itch of what he’d done in Vegas still bothered me. Chris came up with an idea; I’d chain him to the dining room table and do whatever I wanted to him. It was a cross between pay back and eroticism. I don’t

think that most normal folks could do such a thing. Not because of anything other than logistics. Our dining room table came from Tuscany many years before. I found it in an antiques store in Mt. Pleasant and it called to me. The thing was massive and did create a problem when purchasing a home. It was fourteen feet long and weighed over a thousand pounds. The legs were created from columns that you could barely wrap your arms around. Simply put, it’s a massive piece of furniture, but one that inspires romance in me every time I look at it. The table is much like me, I like to think. It’s come a long way in its time, and it’s scarred like a battle worn soldier. Still it stands proud in my dining room showing its true beauty at all times. When I rub it with oil it glows as if it was a living, breathing soul. Logistics come in when you think of adding Chris’s two hundred seventy five pounds to it, then my hundred twenty six. For more fun, jump up and down on it. Um…yeah, it’s not the table I’d be concerned about it is the floor below it. The Wilderness just happens to sit on a slab floor, so it’s no worry for us. The house on the island is being built with a reinforced floor in the dining room. So here I am on my knees beneath my dining room table securing the rope that will hold Chris while I play with his body. I finished my knots and crawled out from under the table. In my drawer of goodies I found a blindfold and put it over his face. Sort of a funny looking thing, it had obviously come in a package with something else, I don’t remember buying it, and had “Just five more minutes please?” embroidered on the front. With the pink and purple blindfold on he looked rather silly. I was already giddy with humor over the entire scenario, he sensed me laughing. “So, you think this is funny do you?” I tried to stifle my laugh, “Well honey, it is kind of funny.” “Hmmm… play with me gently, Laura, or I’ll have to spank you… that is if I ever get off this table!” “Yeah, you keep hmmming baby. I’m gonna give you something to hum about!” I continued laughing. I flipped on the switch to my most powerful vibrator. I’d bought it in some x-rated store on the outskirts of Washington, DC, and it was like some sex crazed version of a power tool. Leaning forward between his spread legs I laid the monstrous shaking appliance just below his balls. The entire table was vibrating under its power so I knew his balls would be numb in no time. With that item secured I moved down to his feet. Licking his soles with the tip of my tongue until he squirmed uselessly on the table, he was laughing and begging me to stop at the same time. Slowly I licked my way up his gorgeous calves and thighs. His legs reminded me of tree trunks; they were huge, covered in a mass of blondish hair that was downright sexy as hell. His skin crawled and shivered with each lick and kiss. I ignored the vibration of his balls and moved directly to his cock. It was already standing upright waving itself around in an effort to attract my attention. Pulling it into my mouth I gave it the warmth that it requested. Somewhere over time I’d forgotten why I chose this particular cock above all others. Tonight I was making love to it. Licking beneath it, around it, sucking the head tenderly, exploring every vein with my tongue, every crease with my lips. It was my playground for an hour. I never allowed myself to concentrate on any area long enough to make him come, yet the pre-cum oozed from the lovely opening in the tip of his prick with relentless abandon. Finally I turned my attention to his stomach, nipples, neck, and lips. My kisses went on and on as my body roved above his. With my tongue in his mouth, twirling and sucking his, I eased myself up onto his cock. We were both already on edge waiting, so lubrication was a non issue. I slid on top of him and began to move up and down slowly. He moaned with ecstasy as we moved in unison. I sat up, cowgirl style to force him deeper inside me. The vibrator below his balls shook us both now, moving his cock in delicious rhythms inside me. My head was only inches below the chandelier above me. One false move and my brain may be scrambled in the giant iron fixture. Keeping myself controlled on his shaking cock wasn’t easy; I wanted to ride him like a bucking bull. Still I somehow managed to remain slow, to kiss him and lick his neck as I rode up and down. Our orgasm’s shot through us at the same time; I think it’s the additional feeling of his slippery, sleek come inside me that sends me over the final barrier. I screamed loudly as the tumultuous culmination of our love making shot through me. My head buried in his neck, my arms wrapped around his head tightly, I felt like it was possible to suddenly burst off into the sky. Chris’s massive hands grabbed my ass and held on tight. He may have been trying to hold me still I’m not sure, all I know is that it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. “Oh hell. Get that thing from underneath my balls!” Chris yelled. By the time I got back between his legs to turn off the power tool I was laughing so hard I was crying.

I awoke the next morning to Chris gently shaking my shoulder. “What?” I moaned. I needed that blindfold that said, “Just five more minutes please?” “Laura get up, I need to talk to you.” It sounded urgent so I opened my eyes. “What’s wrong?” “Nuthin’ honey, nothing’s wrong. Get up and fix your coffee, I’m going to feed the horses, but when I get back meet me in the Library I need to show you something.” At least nothing was wrong; I climbed from the bed and walked naked through my house to the kitchen. The coffee was made so I fixed my cup and took it down the hallway to his office. I settled onto the overstuffed leather sofa in his office and glanced around. Our offices sure were a contrast to our similar tastes. His was covered in dark wood paneling and heavy furniture; mine is graced with dog crates, Queen Ann style painted furniture and dog chew toys. I also have a tendency to tape things to the wall above my computer. Doesn’t matter what they are, could be a reminder to pay the kids college tuition by a certain date or a funny photo printed from a facebook message. It all results in a mess of a scene, but one that feels comfortable for me. Chris’s office is the opposite, nothing is out of place. It looks like an interior designer spat it all out and nothing had been moved since. I gazed around the room admiring it. My hand landed on the remote control on the arm of the sofa so I pushed the power button. I gasped when I saw my own face plastered on the sixty inch high definition screen above the fireplace. Okay, gather your whit’s Laura, I thought. It was obviously a YouTube video that was stuck in pause mode on the screen. As a matter of fact it was the interview from our first day at the Writer’s Conference. I pushed play. The interview had been highlighted by documentary narration by Randy. My mind raced to the bulge in his pants as our interview had occurred. “Erotic Writer Laura Cooper defends that her books and short stories are all actual adventures that she and her writer husband Chris have had. The Tramp Stamp tattoo on her lower back is proof that she is indeed a member of the mysterious sex club in Charleston. Personally, I may have been a Doubting Thomas at the beginning of this interview, but I’ll admit that I’m now a true believer. Mrs. Cooper has a manner of exuding such a powerful sexual force field around her that no one, not even me, is immune. One thing is for sure, THIS reader will continue to buy everything she writes!” I leaned back into the sofa leather and groaned. It sounded so fake; like just because he’d gotten a hard on he wanted to charm me. Chris walked into the room. “I guess you saw the final interview.” It was a statement. “Uh huh, but I think he just wanted a fuck,” I mumbled. Chris sat down behind his massive cherry desk and his fingers clicked on the keyboard. “Come here, Laura.” I sat my coffee down on the table beside the sofa, being careful to put it on one of his decorative coasters. I couldn’t work in this room, it was too damn clean! I stood beside him as he pointed to the screen. “Laura these are sales from for the past two days.” “Okay?” “They’re better than okay, they’re outstanding!” I’d already written about our adventure at the Writers Conference, well without this last chapter and had sent it (all the way across the hallway) to Chris’s desk. I didn’t realize he’d already published it. I wonder when he had time to do that? For the past week we’d been in each other’s arms practically the entire time, must have been while I was sleeping or something. “Well that’s a good thing, right?” “Laura, what I’m trying to show you is that people actually LIKE your books.” I was confused; I sat my bare ass on the corner of his desk. “I don’t get it.” Chris’s hand went to my knee, “I know you don’t baby, but read this.” His fingers pointed to some of the reviews. There were seven in total already. “Loved the double sybian Laura! Let’s do it again next year! Date?-Tonya” “Oh Laura, I had a wonderful time in your bed… you naughty, naughty girl!-Sarina”

“Was my come really that sweet?-Jonah” “Best cock sucking of my life!-Roger (Blastwords, IT Department.) “Girlfriend, your ass is tight, and I’m in love with it!-Paul (Blastwords, Publishing.) “Sharing your pussy was too much fun. Sorry about having to gag you. Am I forgiven?” Raoul (Blastwords, Editing.) “I was the one with the robe, remember me? Please remember me and come back next year!” Collin (Blastwords, Director of Pubishing.) I looked at Chris astonished. “So they really like it that I write about what actually happened to me? I mean come on; it doesn’t take much imagination or talent to just write down this stuff.” Chris stood up in front of me, between my legs. “Honey, they LOVE it, and I love you my little naïve Nymph. (Available in multiple formats for your EReader.) My thighs spread to let my amazingly gorgeous husband between my legs where he belongs forever.

Tongue and Groove By Laura B. Cooper Published by

Laura B. Cooper Tongue and Groove Copyright © 2012 by Laura B. Cooper

Tongue and Groove - The New Foreman Dirt and debris flew up in a cloud around the black range rover as it sped up my newly graveled driveway. I should’ve expected her not to waste any time getting here. I’d sent her the text message with attached photo of the gorgeous crew who were installing our new pool only forty five minutes ago. Nope, it didn’t take Karen long to respond to that message. Now I was congratulating myself on the additional text that I’d sent asking her to please bring lunch. In the grand scope of things building a new home, completely from scratch probably wasn’t a financially practical plan. I’d been itching to move back to the coast for a while now though and the only way Chris would agree was if he could plan and orchestrate each and every board and nail. Today he was downtown at the permit office and left me to keep an eye on the pool install. It’d take days to put in the zero edge pool that he’d planned so I sat back in my lawn chair under the willow trees and oogled. These guys were out in the sun all day every day; the entire group of them looked like surfers who were only building pools to buy more sex wax. Personally I didn’t care why they did what they did, only that my job for the day was to watch them. What Chris thought they were going to do out here I had no idea, I suppose he just didn’t want them slacking off. As Karen’s vehicle came to a raging halt in front of me I laughed. My best friend did nothing at a leisurely pace other than lick my pussy. In an odd twist of nature, during any sexual encounter she took her time and enjoyed herself. At all other times she acted like she’d just been shot from the barrel of one of her hunting rifles. I did notice the pool guys leaning over the tops of their shovels for a minute gawking at her exiting her SUV. I laughed as she walked towards me; yep this was my best friend. Wearing nothing but a bikini top and short-short jeans, her breasts bounced along with her in the fashion that guys, especially young ones, appreciated. “Hey did you bring me lunch?” I called out as she began rifling through the back of her vehicle. “Baby I brought everything you need!” She yelled back, loud enough for the guys near the giant hole in the ground to hear. I hadn’t missed the fact that she’d spun the car around so that the back of it was facing the pool area. The workers were now privy to her ass, lower back and muscular arms as she gathered our lunch. They hadn’t moved since she drove up. It seemed as though all they could manage was standing there in the exact same positions they’d been in when she got out of the car. What fun this was! Karen and my other dear friends in The Tramp Stamp Club had agreed to help with a matter of finance for this grand island home we were building. The home would have a large guesthouse and of course they were invited as a standing rule at any time. The premise was simple, get as much of the labor costs for free that I could. In a stroke of boredom this morning I’d taken photos of the guys working on my pool with my cell phone. I’d messaged the pictures to Karen, who obviously jumped in her car and headed right here. With the exception of a Deli stop she couldn’t have had time to do anything else. It was normally forty five minutes from her farm in Awendaw to our new home (construction site.) Maybe like me she was bored this morning; a little activity would do us some good. “Okay Laura, come eat!” She called out, flashing a broad smile towards the pool guys. She whooshed her hand in their direction and yelled, “Ya’ll get back to work now!” They all chuckled, probably unaware that they’d been caught dumbstruck by Karen’s petite outfit. The back of her SUV was now transformed into a picnic. An old quilt was laid over the entire back of the cargo area. It was covered with bottles of wine, containers of feta cheese, olives, stuffed grape leaves and sliced meats. A loaf of bread was unwrapped and in a lovely basket. Another small tray of fruits and vegetables was displayed as well. Truly I had no idea how she could suddenly turn the back of a range rover into a sexy Greek picnic in less than five minutes. She was amazing, of that I had no doubts. “Go ahead and get started, I’ll be back in a minute.” She shot me a devilish grin and headed towards the pool workers with a giant cooler on wheels. As I filled my mouth with the delicacies she’d brought I found myself thoroughly enjoying the act going on by the pool. She was touching their sun tanned shoulders innocently (nothing Karen does is entirely innocent) and going on and on with quite a bit of animation over their wonderful work. They were delighted that she’d brought them sandwiches and ice cold water, “as a reward for their hard work.” I noted how she put emphasis on the word hard. She was quite a piece of work my friend. She walked back towards me, having given them a close up of her tits and ass and smiled with an evil grin as she sat down on the back tailgate of her SUV. “Okay, spill it; you have something else on your agenda I can tell.” I almost choked on an olive as I spoke. “Did you look in that small cooler” She motioned towards the small blue cooler well inside the car. “Huh uh.” I shook my head no. She pulled it forward and opened the lid, inside were two popsicles, both cherry flavored it seemed, both shaped like rather large cocks.

“Oh my God! Where did you get those? That’s hilarious!” I laughed. “I made them! I ordered a mold from some magazine that Steve had lying around and whipped up a batch last night. I mean really it’s hot out here!” “You are SO flipping funny.” I stuck my hand in and pulled out the massive cock shaped popsicle. I pulled it into my mouth in an effort to appear as though I was sucking a real cock. We sat calmly now on the back of the SUV talking and laughing as we suckled our frozen treats. Donned with heavy sunglasses it was impossible to tell that we were keeping a close eye on the pool workers. They were keeping a close eye on us too. I seriously was concerned about one particularly young looking fellow who damn near fell into the massive hole they’d dug when Karen turned to kiss me and exchange turns licking each other’s dripping cherry cock. End of first chapter - This book is available in multiple formats for purchase on your E-Reader!

Tramp Stamp Club: My Slut Wife Training By Laura B. Cooper Published by Laura B. Cooper Tramp Stamp Club: My Slut Wife Training Copyright © 2011 by Laura B. Cooper

Slut Wife Training - Thursday Morning Ritual I was laying by the pool on a typical Thursday morning, sipping a diet coke and waiting for my friend to arrive. The warm mid morning sun nearly put me to sleep as I closed my eyes and daydreamed. Karen and I generally spent at least one morning every week during the late spring early summer getting a jump on our tans. She let herself in the front door, as usual, and walked through the house out to the covered deck area. Karen had a wonderful body, even through the haphazard Lilly Pulitzer bathing suit cover-up it was hard not to notice her enticing figure. Anyone could see that the personal trainer her husband had hired had certainly paid off for her. She was a tall, thin brunette with sculpted abs and very toned legs. Not to mention the full breasts that complimented her frame nicely. I often admired her dedication to getting toned and fit, and quite honestly, felt a little jealous. I watched her pull her lounge chair next to mine and drop her wrap. As she bent over to straighten her towel I got my first glimpse of it. The dark blue mark on her lower back was only slightly larger than the circumference of a golf ball still it stood out amidst her athletically preppy style. I could not believe that she actually got a tattoo. “What is that?” I blurted in total amazement. “What?” “That! On your back,” I said, pointing at her ass. I could see she was somewhat taken aback by my blunt outburst. “It’s nothing. Just a simple tattoo. You know I’ve always wanted one.” “No way. There is no way Steve let you get a tattoo!” “Oh yeah… in fact, it was his idea, well sort of...” “Lemme see,” I pleaded, struggling to sit up in my pool lounger to get a better view. Karen turned around and bent over as though I was a physician inspecting a mole. I was truly amazed. It actually looked really sexy in the small of her back just above her bikini bottom. My hands were on either side of her ass turning it from side to side, I even pulled my reading glasses from their perch on the top of my head to inspect this travesty closer. “Tramp Stamp? Is that what it says? The writing is quite small!” I giggled; glad I didn’t have any close neighbors. The sight me grabbing her ass would certainly turn heads if I lived in a traditional neighborhood. The only ones with their eyes on us right now were the horses in the pasture and our menagerie of family dogs, none of them would talk. “Well, that is what they are called.” She spoke defensively. “Besides, this one was kind of special it falls more along the lines of a ‘Badge of Honor!’” “Are you kidding? Badge of Honor? What were you, drunk?” “I’ll admit to a few hot toddies beforehand, but I made the appointment myself. Really, this wasn’t an accident!” She was laughing as she made an issue of pulling her behind from my hands and plopping down on the lounge chair next to me. “Well I wouldn’t wear any of those low waisted shorts you are so fond of to the Garden Club anymore!” “No… it’s not for public viewing! It’s just something I wanted, and since I gave Steve what he wanted, he let me have what I wanted… a tattoo.” “What the hell did Steve want? What’d you have to do?” “You know Steve. Anything sexual or slutty; he keeps a bucket list I’m sure.” “Chris would be mortified if I did anything sexual or slutty at all. If I got a tattoo, he’d shun me to the spare bedroom for eternity!” “I dunno… he might surprise you,” she said. “You’ve lost your mind. Straight laced Chris would find it a complete horror.” I made a face as though I’d seen a ghost! “He’s such a prude about stuff like that.” “C’mon. Is he really such a fuddy duddy?” Karen chuckled. “Are you telling me that he wouldn’t like a little kink?” Karen looked at me with her eyebrows turned up. It’s like she had some new mastery of the secrets of all men that I didn’t. “Chris thinks that kink is something the garden hose does.” Sad to say it, and even harder to believe, I think I was married to the only man in Charleston with no desire for sex. “Our sex life is so non-existent that I could email my participation in and I don’t think he would notice.” “Now that’s a shame. If Steve was like that, I’d be looking for a new pool boy.” Okay, if I wasn’t jealous enough about her damn body, this was too much. I didn’t mean to, but I cut her off right there. “Listen, it would be wonderful if Chris took an interest in our sex life. But he’s so busy at work, and then the Country Club, and then the kids. We just don’t have much time for that sort of thing. Besides, he has never shown a great interest in anything but vanilla sex. Quite

frankly, I haven’t felt the need for it in years.” I knew that statement wasn’t true, but I guess if you tell yourself something long enough, you begin to believe it yourself. “That’s awful, Laura. I couldn’t stand that.” “It’s okay. I mean, I keep myself really busy with the kids, the house, the Garden Club.” “Honey, you need to take control of that part of your life right now. A woman has needs, you know,” Karen said. “Really… it’s no big deal,” I was anxious to change the subject now my comfort zone was being stomped on here. “Look, I’m sure Chris would appreciate more than just vanilla sex. Have you tried dressing up for him?” “Honestly, he is just not interested in it. I cannot get myself all worked up and have no way to release my feelings. It’s hard enough when the guy comes to clean my pool to not stand at my kitchen window and gawk at him!” I giggled to ease my tension with the conversation as a whole. “All Steve wants is for me to be the biggest slut I can possibly be. Why do you think he got me a personal trainer?” “What? You’re sleeping with your trainer?” “Absolutely! Like I said, a woman has needs.” “And Steve is okay with that?” “Oh yeah, he likes to watch, but it wasn’t always like that. He wanted me to be a slut, and he wanted me to tell him what I wanted all the time. It was an irritating twenty questions type of ordeal all the time with him. I kept telling him that I wasn’t raised that way. However, it never occurred to me on what I was missing, until I joined the Tramp Stamp Club.” “The Tramp Stamp Club? Karen, this is too much. You don’t expect me to believe all of this?” My oldest friend, the preppy attorney turned horse farmer and her husband suddenly seemed foreign to me. “Believe what you want to believe, Laura. All I know, is I am enjoying my sex life better than ever before. I got a new car, I go shopping all the time, and Steve’s never been happier.” “And you think that Chris would be happier if I joined this Tramp club? I just don’t see it.” I didn’t see it. It was bad enough to get my hopes up and dashed, but to go to all the trouble of acting like a slut and dressing up for him just to see him roll over and go to sleep… Nah… don’t think it’s worth it. “I think you’d be very surprised, it was Steve’s idea for me to join in the first place.” “I don’t know, just all seems so naughty,” I said. I was too reluctant at this point to admit that I loved being naughty. Just because my best friend had turned into a wanton hussy didn’t mean that I was suddenly gung ho to start hosting orgies instead of dinner parties. “Listen honey, you have no idea what you are missing. You know men; it’s all about sex and pleasure. Even Chris, yes Chris, would appreciate your increased interest in sex and being naughty. And the sex, the freedom, the orgasms. I have the best orgasms you could ever imagine.” I couldn’t believe that all of this was coming out of her mouth. I sat there mesmerized at the thought of her head back, legs spread, and breasts heaving… I was picturing myself enjoying all those things too. Karen continued, “All I had to do was get in touch with my true desires, and now all my fantasies are coming true. Steve can’t keep his hands off of me, and it’s just like when we first met.” “Wow,” I said, “now I am really jealous. I wish Chris found me that desirable.” No truer words ever came out of my mouth. In the spirit of her free flowing confessions I wanted to spill my secret desires right there, but instead I wanted to know, “How do I get into this Tramp Stamp Club?” “Let me warn you, they take this club very seriously.” Karen seemed to think that I was giggling out of disrespect for the concept of her club; I was giggling because the entire conversation made me nervous. “Laura they initiate you, train you in a sense, you have to do whatever they tell you to do.” “What kind of things?” I asked. “There’s a list of milestones, once you accomplish each one without hesitation you move on to the next one. You prepared for that?” “Give me an example of one of these milestones?” “Okay, well… for instance, you may be asked to suck a man’s cock in front of other people.” I was stunned; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done anything so outlandish. The thought of doing such a thing rattled me to the core. It’s the feeling you get just before the scary part of a movie, or before the roller coaster starts heading downhill, adrenaline was pumping through my chest now just imagining what fun I could have. “It sounds so exciting. I don’t know, maybe… I mean, I am so bored with my life now. Do you think I would enjoy it?” I may have sounded hum drum but

my heart was racing, I just didn’t want to humiliate myself by showing how mundane my life had become and how desperately I needed something, like this, in my world. “More than you know. If you really want to find out more about it, I’ll make a call and see if you can go by and talk with them.” End of first chapter - This book is available in multiple formats for purchase on your E-Reader!

Sharing Cecelia by Laura B. Cooper Published By: Laura B. Cooper Sharing Cecelia Copyright © 2011 by Laura B. Cooper

Sharing Cecelia -Introduction He leaned over towards her ear and whispered, “I want to melt my hot stick inside you.” CeeCee giggled. Had it come from anyone other than her dearest friend and fellow Culinary School graduate, she would have thought it corny. But Jimmy always made sexual references involving food. She thought it was sweet; she looked into his deep green eyes and laughed. He was right though… too many drinks and warm bodies crammed into the small off campus bar had her pussy tingling. She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the bar stool, through the back hallway of the bar and out the metal Exit door. The narrow alley was fairly quiet. A place where one could really concentrate on their thoughts. A place where one could be intimate. Only the sounds of smokers from around the front of the bar interrupted their private moment. Jimmy bent down in front of her. With both hands he swiped downwards on either side of her hips, removing her underwear from beneath her sundress in one swift movement. He grabbed them before they hit the ground and stuffed them into his jeans pocket. He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs before reaching back to CeeCee’s slender legs. Sliding his hands back up to her hips, feeling the silkiness of her skin along his path, he lifted her small form onto his waist. Her legs instantly wrapped around his back and maneuvered his stiff cock inside her. It wasn’t the first time the two friends had fucked in this position. In fact, they had done it many times like this. CeeCee pulled him inside her velvety pussy with sincere need. With her lips pressed into his neck she moaned, “Fuck me, Jimmy. I need your hard cock so bad.” Of course she knew that this would bring Jimmy’s orgasm close, but she only needed a few plunges and she would release her juices too. Jimmy moaned and CeeCee moved quickly, bouncing harder and harder against his soaking pelvis. Their shared orgasm shot between them with fury; a release that both had needed so desperately. Her head rested on his neck as she caught her breath. “CeeCee, I do love you!” Jimmy said as he laughed heartily, taking in deep breaths of the night air. “I love you too, Jimmy!” CeeCee said as she hugged him tightly. He lowered her down to stand on her own two feet again. Bending low before her once again, he presented her panties, “My princess, I will now return your silken garments.” CeeCee laughed. This was exactly why she loved him. He was always so funny; he was also her best friend, her confidant, the father of her son, and gay. End of first chapter - This book is available in multiple formats for purchase on your E-Reader!

About the Author I obsess over all things naughty and spontaneous. Growing up in the deep Romantic South, I was raised in a prominent family who prided themselves on their ability to appear normal to other socialites. Straying from my historical roots, I learned to find pleasure within the secret world of swinging. In the eyes of those who see me in the luxurious downtown Charleston shops, I am the typical southern woman. In the eyes of those who know me best, I am a sensual creature who thrives on spontaneous sexual adventures. My motto is that it is best to try anything at least once; if I derive pleasure from the experience, then I add it to my repertoire of erotic journeys. For years I have kept track of my various exploits in several purple spiral bound notebooks. It was on the urging of my husband that some of be released for public enjoyment. Actual occurrences are often further expanded on by descriptions of the locations in which they happened, otherwise all stories are fairly true to fact. I enjoy sensual “treats,” as I call them, with women and men. But the thrill comes from spontaneity. With every moment of my life having been planned and executed to the minutest detail, I find a rush in the unexpected. Fondest locations have been bank ATM enclosures, downtown Charleston alleyways, the bow of yachts docked in the harbor, and even a fire truck. When I am not writing about my naughty adventures, I maintain the appearance of structure. With two children in college, I now have time to explore avenues that were previously filled with family life. My husband and I now reside outside the city limits of Charleston with my rescued dogs and a cat. Laura http://laurabcooper.blogspot.com http://www.laurabcooper.com [email protected]

Other Titles Tramp Stamp Club – How it All Began Tramp Stamp Club: My Slut Wife Training Tramp Stamp Club Profiles: Karen Come Home with Me: Part 1 Come Home with Me: Part 2 Confessions of a Slut Wife: Part 1 Watched The Plantation My Hot Bedtime Stories: Volume 1 My Hot Bedtime Stories: Volume 2 My Hot Bedtime Stories: Volume 3 Play with Me How I Became a Swinger Worth A Try Bed Warmers Vol 1 Bed Warmers Vol 2 Bed Warmers Vol 3 Nymph Dream Lover Sizzling Bedtime Stories: Vol 1 Sizzling Bedtime Stories: Vol 2 All Hands on Deck Sharing Cecelia