Balls of Cobalt Blue
And Other Erotica
Short Fiction
by
Stanfield Major
© 2007 by Stanfield Major
All rights reserved
ISBN: 9781452492278
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Smashwords Edition
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Acknowledgments
First of all I want to thank all the women who’ve shared their deepest sexual secrets with me over the years. Otherwise I wouldn’t have a clue.
I want to thank Literotica.com These stories would never have been written without them. Through the forum they provided I found my audience.
My story, I’ll Be With You In My Dreams, was published in the online magazine Clean Sheets in 2003.
My story, No, She Said, was included in Erotic Tales, the print anthology published by Justus Roux, in 2003.
I wish to express my gratitude to Jean Marie Stine of Renaissance Ebooks for her support and encouragement.
My story, The Blues Man, was published in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Volume 6, in 2007. Edited by Maxim Jakubowski.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
1. I’ll Be With You In My Dreams
2. “No,” She Said
3. Balls Of Cobalt Blue
4. I Never Promised You A Zipless Fuck
5. A Huge One Could Be Yours
6. Cabin In The Woods
7. Royally Fucked
8. Needafriend Finds Friend4U
9. The Blues Man
10. Ocean Interlude
11. Win/Win Situation
12. She’s Bound To Be Pleased
13. Hair Lover
14. Song For Maria
I'll Be With You In My Dreams
I've always been a dreamer. More in the sense of having my head so far in the clouds that I couldn't attend to the practical aspects of everyday life than that of having an abundance of the phantasmagoria accompanying sleep. I teach American and English literature so in the former sense of the word my life hasn't been impacted too severely. And, with regard to the latter sense, the truth is that for most of my life I've only remembered bits and pieces of the wondrous flow of images and sensory input that entered my slumbers.
Sometime in the 1970s I read the books of Carlos Castaneda and was attracted to his discussions of dreaming consciously and guiding your dreams. A faint hunger for that kind of experience rumbled below consciousness through the years. Then, almost nine months ago, in a used bookstore, I caught sight of a book by Stephen LaBerge titled Lucid Dreaming and the faint hunger expanded into an aching void. I read the book with care over the period of about a month and then began to practice the techniques.
It was a long tedious haul. There were many times I almost gave up. My forbearing wife, Anita, observed my antics with an amused exasperation. Over the course of our long marriage she's suffered through a multitude of my enthusiasms; some short lived and some extending for years. This one at least, she told me with a short laugh, she could sleep through.
I'd been practicing the techniques described by Dr. LaBerge for a little over four months with minimal success when it happened. At first I thought I was awake. But then, recalling that I'd crossed the room in a fraction of a second, I realized that I'd achieved my goal. I looked at my hands. They glowed in a way I'd never seen before. I looked toward the window. The late spring sun was peeking over the horizon. In another split second I was outside, floating above the lawn. Now I had the freedom but I didn't know what to do.
I decided to try flying. In an instant I was soaring above the neighborhood. I remembered having these dreams as a kid and how much I'd loved them. I sailed over the house of our neighbors, Hector and Eileen, and I realized I was thinking of Eileen. And there I was in their bedroom. Hector lay sprawled on his back, snoring softly. Eileen was curled in a fetal position, facing away from him. They both were nude.
They'd moved into this house, two doors down from us, almost four years ago. And ever since the day I'd first seen her standing in their driveway wearing a bright yellow dress I'd carried a small torch for her, one with an intense flame. No one knew of this torch. Not Eileen, I was certain. But many times over the years its heat had warmed my heart. Never, until now, had I seen Eileen naked. I liked what I saw. I flitted to her side of the bed and looked down at her sleeping form. I wondered if I was seeing Eileen or was imagining, in my dream state, what she might look like.
Then, with a shock, I realized her eyes were open. They were focused on me. We stared at each other for what seemed like centuries.
"Can you see me?" I whispered cautiously. Afraid of the answer.
"Holy shit. This is too weird," she muttered. Or thought. Or something. Her lips didn't move.
"Can you see me, Eileen?" I asked again. I was surprised by her thought language because I'd never heard her use obscenity in all the time I'd known her.
"What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom, Arthur?"
"This is a dream, Eileen," I said, still stunned by her language.
She sat up. Or at least some part of her sat up. A luminescent part. The rest of her remained in its curled up position. "But I can see you, Arthur. Don't give me that shit. What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Look at yourself," I said, pointing to her recumbent form.
She turned and looked down. "Oh my God. Oh shit. Oh goddamned motherfucking shit!"
"This is a dream," I whispered. Whatever it's called when you lower the volume of a telepathic communication.
She looked at me again. "Did you know you've got a dream woody, Arthur?"
I looked down at myself. My cock, glowing like my hands had, was stiff. I felt embarrassed and vulnerable. I looked at Eileen. She was looking at my cock.
"I think I've been in love with you since the first time I saw you," I said. I didn't seem to be able to help myself.
"Mmmmmm. I wondered," she said still gazing at my cock. "You always seemed to act kind of strange when I was around."
"Was I that obvious?"
She looked up, into my eyes. "No, you weren't obvious. I was looking for the signs. I've had feelings for you too."
"I think I must be dreaming," I said. We both laughed.
"Shit this is strange," she said. "How did this happen?"
"I've been trying to have lucid dreams, dreams I consciously control, and I seem to have succeeded. Except I didn't know it was possible to make contact with other people. That is if you're really Eileen and not some image created by my imagination."
"I feel like me," she said. "Strange, but like me in a strange fucking situation. Are you my neighbor Arthur? Or are you some demon wearing Arthur as a disguise?"
"As far as I can tell I'm your neighbor Arthur. I don't feel like a demon."
She floated free of her body, which was still fetally curled, and reached out to grasp my cock. "Mmmmm. I've wanted to do this for a long time."
The sensation wasn't anything like physical touching. More akin to energy flowing into energy, throwing off twinkling stars like an Independence Day sparkler. I reached out and touched her breast with the same result.
"Oh shit, this is cool," she said. "I never imagined anything like this was possible in my wildest---"
"Dreams." I said. We laughed again. Then she took my cock in her mouth and the laughter ended precipitously. The nerves, or whatever, in our astral, or whatever, bodies must correspond pretty closely to our physical bodies because feeling her mouth around my cock took me to another planet entirely.
It was at this moment that Hector's alarm clock went off. If we'd been in our physical, or whatever, bodies I think I might very well have lost my penis given the amount of pressure, ethereal as it was, I felt at that moment. Eileen's gossamer self jumped back into her body and disappeared. I remained for only a moment longer, long enough to see Hector reach out to slap the button on the clock, glance at his wife's bare back, and struggle into sitting position at the edge of the bed. Then I too was gone.
The dream, when I awoke, was etched on my consciousness. But, in the full light of day, it didn't seem real. I retrieved the morning paper and glanced over at Eileen's house wondering if she was remembering the same images. I was afraid I'd never know. On the other hand I was shocked by the experience, by the intimacy, so another part of me hoped nothing would change. And I think she felt the same way. The few times our paths crossed in the next couple of days neither of us could look the other in the eye. Then one evening when I got home from work I found Anita and Eileen on the back deck drinking margaritas. At one point, while Anita was in the bathroom, Eileen said very quietly, "I had the strangest dream about you."
My heart started pounding. "I know," I said after a long moment of silence. She looked at me. In the light streaming out of the kitchen window I could see her blush.
"I apologize for my language," she said. "I can't seem control myself in dreams the way I can in real life."
"I wondered about that," I said.
Anita returned and nothing more was said on the subject.
I continued to experiment with my dreams but it was six weeks before I worked up the nerve to visit Eileen again. Anita had organized a BBQ bash at our house and Eileen, Hector, and their two young sons, were invited along with several other neighborhood families. So, on the night before the party, I suppose because she was in my thoughts, I was once again in her bedroom. Her dream body, or whatever it was, popped up the moment I appeared.
"Oh, I was hoping you'd come," she said. Or thought.
"I wasn't sure you'd want me to," I said.
"Oh Arthur. Arthur. I've been longing for you ever since the last time. I've wanted you so much. I've been driving Hector crazy, fucking him every which way I can think of. But shit, it's not the same. I think of how it felt to have your hard dream cock in my mouth and the juice runs down my legs."
A man doesn't get many invitations like this in his life. I reached out to her and our bodies flowed together. It wasn't penetration in the usual sense but rather a combining, a commingling, an interconnecting on the deepest levels, becoming One in a way impossible for physical bodies. We weren't a man and a woman. We were two playful erotic energies joined in a ball of pleasure. We were two children before the age of sexual division frolicking with a marvelous new toy with wholehearted delight. Two puppies wrestling in the grass.
We soon realized that gravity was not a concern. Not long after that we became aware that a shared thought could take us anywhere. We ended up on a Florida beach, hovering like butterflies. Our eyes were wide open, with me feeling her pleasure knowing she was feeling mine.
"Is this how they fuck in heaven?" She asked.
"Do they fuck in heaven?" Was my response.
"Well, fucking is heavenly, isn't it?"
"This is fucking heavenly, yes."
"Are you saying I'm a heavenly fuck? How sweet."
"Fucking A." I grunted.
"Shut up, for heaven's sake, and fuck me." She sighed.
There wasn't the familiar building up to an abrupt orgasmic release but rather a growing intensity, like the turning of a rheostat, that reached a powerful crescendo and then slowly subsided. It was like being immersed in warm honey and then stimulated with the vibrations of a billion angel's wings. It wasn't me feeling it. It was Us feeling it. And sharing that mutual feeling was the deepest pleasure of all. We were One in the profoundest pleasure possible.
"Oh." Eileen exclaimed, once the vibrations had died away. "I've never felt anything like that before."
I was speechless. We were lying naked in the sand under the blazing sun, cuddling together. 2300 miles away Hector's goddamned alarm clock went off and Eileen was jerked out of my arms. Then I too was drawn back.
"You must have had quite a dream," Anita said, leering across the breakfast table. "You splooged all over my butt last night. Or, more precisely, this morning."
I looked at her startled, a shamed little boy welling up inside me, "I'm sorry."
"I'm razzing you, honey. But it better have been me you were dreaming about," she said with an edgy gleam in her eye. I wasn't sure how serious she was.
"Of course it was," I said, lying and knowing she knew I was lying. She just laughed.
Most of the rest of the day was spent preparing for the BBQ. I often found myself recalling the magical time with Eileen and smiling. Not just smiling but humming and walking with a bounce in my step.
"That must have been quite some dream," Anita said again, late in the afternoon, just before the guests were scheduled to arrive. The little boy welled up once more and I wilted. "Hey, honey, I'm teasing you," she said, seeing my distress. "I don't care who it was. I kind of got a kick out of seeing you so excited."
That only made me feel worse.
And then we were caught in the whirlwind of our invited guests arriving. I focused on greeting the men while Anita took care of the women and children. I avoided Eileen but could sense her hurt and bewilderment. Later, after everyone had eaten and the party had settled down to rambling conversation, I went into the bathroom in the master bedroom to take a leak and found Eileen sitting on the bed I shared with Anita when I came out. I stopped cold.
"What's the matter Arthur? You haven't said two words to me."
"I don't like cheating on Anita," I said
"Oh, are we having an affair?"
"Physically, no, but mentally I have to say yes."
"Well, no one I know is a mind reader that I'm aware of so I think we're safe."
"You want to keep doing it?" I asked.
"God yes. Don't you, Arthur? It feels so incredible."
"Yes, it does. But I do feel guilty. I've never cheated on Anita."
"It was a dream. Haven't you had wet dreams before?"
"Yessssss."
"Did you feel guilty?"
"No," I said softly.
"Well, this is the same thing."
"Not exactly. Those other dreams were simply dreams. This is real in a weird kind of way. I mean, we're here in my bedroom talking about a sex dream we had together for God's sake."
"But it was still a dream, nothing more. No one's going to catch us in flagrante delicto. I'm not going to get pregnant."
"I don't know Eileen. I have to think about it."
It hurt to see the look of disappointment on her face. She looked as if she was about to cry. I turned away and for most of the evening my thoughts were in turmoil.
And then I watched my small daughter caught up in playing with her friends, all of them running around the yard, their faces glowing with joy. Like puppies, playing in the grass.
Not long after that I took Anita aside. And told her the whole story. I could tell she didn't believe me, that she thought I was describing a run of the mill wet dream.
"Honey, I'm not jealous of your dreams," she said. "I'm glad you're having fun. But if you touch Eileen in the here and now I will break off your arm and beat you with it. Comprender?"
"Yes, dear."
She gave me a good humored scowl.
"And darling, I'm going to try to meet you in my dreams the way I did with Eileen." I told her.
"I can't wait," she said, clearly unimpressed. I knew that if I succeeded she might extend the prohibition against touching Eileen into the dream world as well but I'd wait to cross that bridge when it appeared.
One of the traditions of these gatherings was for me to bring out my guitar and accompany a sing-a-long around a fire winking and sparking in the fire pit. And tonight I played for almost three hours before people began to nod off. So, for the last song of the evening I began plunking out the chords of the Huddie Ledbetter classic. I saw a secret happy smile cross Eileen's face as she recognized the words I began to sing. The others heard the standard version but with the simple substitution of a single syllable she and I heard something different.
Eileen goodnight, Eileen goodnight
goodnight Eileen, goodnight Eileen
I'll be with you in my dreams.
"No!" She Said.
"No." She said. "No fucking way. No. No. No. Is there any part of that you don't understand?"
She didn't leave me with many options. I'd just asked my wife of fourteen years if she'd be willing to fulfill a fantasy of mine of seeing her with another man. I knew her well enough to know that this would probably be her first reaction but still her vehemence startled me. I could tell that she was upset and very hurt.
"How could you want such a thing? Why? To see some strange man use me. No. No, fucking, way." Her eyes glistened with tears.
I put my arms around her. She was stiff and distant, her eyes averted. I held her and stroked her back. My desires weren't something I could easily explain. I loved her. I loved her so much. And our sex life wasn't bad although we'd settled into something of a routine. But I had the feeling we were missing a dimension of life and somehow this idea of including another man seemed as if it would open a door to that space beyond. It was a feeling I found impossible to communicate.
We both felt bruised for the next couple of days. And the week or so after that was a mixture of remoteness and quiet flashes of the old intimacy. Finally, as we watched an old movie on TV, the lost warmth returned and she came to lie beside me on the couch. It felt so good to feel her pressing against me, rubbing her bottom against my crotch, and later to feel her kisses grow hot as I touched her soft smooth skin and her slick wetness, to hear her sighing as I slipped inside.
Yet that small grain of irritating sand that I'd brought into our relationship remained. For me it was a matter of struggling to understand what it was I wanted, what it was I felt was missing. For Adele, my wife, as I learned later, the experience was one of opening a place in her mind that had been, until I'd given her a key, padlocked with fear and the strictures of convention.
At the time we each felt alone. We could share sweet warmth within the confines of the old assumptions but as we explored further, roaming among the possibilities of love outside the norm, the air grew more frigid. But, as we subsequently discovered, we each, in our own way, found the adventure bracing.
For a long time I couldn't get past the images of seeing Adele opening wide and a stranger's cock invading her. She'd, to the best of my knowledge, and I believed her, only known two other men before me. Two short term affairs before we'd met. So I thought it was the invasion, the taboo, that stirred me. In my imagination I heard her quiet cries, stranger's names spoken with ardor, but didn't listen with care.
Unbeknownst to me, while I was at work and before the kids came home from school, Adele had begun searching the Internet for ways to use this little key I'd given her, ways to assuage the irritation of the grain of sand. Seek and ye shall find, we're told. Seeking on the Internet can go a long long way. No telling what you'll find. One of the doors that opened for Adele was a site that offered a smorgasbord of people with a jaw dropping variety of sexual interests. Very timidly, after going back to the site again and again, she decided to place a little profile about herself. One not entirely true. She was not in the least bit prepared for the onslaught.
The first day after placing her profile there were twenty two messages from men. The day after that there were thirty four. Plus four from women. It got worse after that. At first it was kind of interesting to look at a strange penis but once she'd seen about thirty five the novelty sort of wore off. She began looking for something a little more distinctive. Most of the messages were short and not very illuminating. From time to time a man would send a clothed photo. Once in a very great while a man would send a clothed photo and a message that appeared to have been written by a thinking person. These were the ones she decided to answer. The first order of business being to straighten out all the crooked parts in her profile.
One of the first men she connected with was a man named Rob who lived about two hours away. Far enough not to be an immediate threat but close enough to be available. She soon learned that Rob had some knowledge about the kind of situation I, her husband, was proposing.
"Why?" she wailed, via email. "Why would he want me to fuck some stranger?"
"Who do you want to fuck?" was his reply.
That brought her to a standstill. She worked through the gamut of responses. It took her four days to get back to him. "I'm happy with Greg (he's my husband). I love fucking him. The sex has gotten kind of same o' same o', I'll admit, but he's still my main man."
"Why'd you place the ad then?" Rob asked. "If you're happy that's fine. I'm delighted for you. But I can't help but feel that there's more to this than that. I've done group sex, I've been in threesomes, and I know that women can get into these things just as much as men. You say that you're happy with Greg, and as far as I can tell you are, but I get the sense that you're hoping there's something more."
It took seven days for her to get back to him. "I apologize for taking so long to write. You gave me a lot to think about in your last email. It hasn't been easy for me these last few days. When you talk about group sex and threesomes I have to tell you, even though I've known you for so short a time, it makes me wet. I feel so nasty telling you that. But I think you're right that I'm looking for something. Greg has no idea. You know, when he first told me he'd like to see me with other men it made me feel all shriveled up inside. As if I wasn't good enough or something. But when I started writing you I began to think, This could be my experience; I could have fun with this. And it made the whole thing feel different."
"Of course it's your experience, sweetie," Rob replied. "You're the one creating this, not Greg. He may have gotten the balls rolling, so to speak, but you're the one who placed an ad. You're the one who asked the questions. You're the one who got wet when I started talking about threesomes and moresomes. And I'm here if you need me. I don't need any particular thing to happen. I'm trying to help you discover what it is you want."
As I said, this colloquy, for the most part, was occurring at times when I wasn't present. And, to be quite frank, I wasn't aware of the effect they were having on Adele for some time. She was more responsive, yes, and we made love more frequently. But, with a solemn bow to the male ego, I assumed she was finding me somehow more stimulating. Little did I know that Rob was the midhusband (as opposed to midwife) of my marital pleasures. But even a head as thick as mine has to absorb a few shafts of light eventually.
I began to realize that Adele was much more involved in using the computer than she'd used to be. Checking email before we went to bed, rising early to be the first one on. When I asked her about it she said it was some new game she'd found or an email she expected from a friend. For awhile this made sense to me but I slowly became aware of the fact that the urgency with which she approached the keyboard outweighed the ostensible purpose. And then, one afternoon, while Adele and the kids were at the mall, I explored the system until I found Rob's emails and email address. It wasn't all that hard, since Adele was not in the hacker class of computer user.
The following Monday I sent him an email from my office computer informing him of my discovery. His reply was terse and to the point.
"Hi Greg, it doesn't surprise me that you broke the code. There probably wasn't one. But I'm her friend, not yours. At least not yet. And I won't betray her confidence, if there's any confidence left to betray after your snooping. --Rob"
I wrote Rob back to tell him that I loved Adele with all my heart and that I had no wish to hurt her. I told him that the main reason I'd contacted him was to open a dialogue with someone who obviously meant a lot to her.
He wrote back to say that he thought it should be Adele's choice to decide whether he and I opened a dialogue.
To tell you the truth this guy was getting on my nerves.
Assuming it was very likely Rob, testy as he was, would tell Adele I'd found her out, I decided that the best course was to talk to my wife myself.
"You WHAT? You sonofabitch. Those were my private fucking emails goddamn it. You had no goddamn right. Yougoddamn-motherfuckingsonofabitch." were her exact words. A string of words I'd almost never heard her use. Clearly she was more angry than usual.
"Adele, sweetheart. Adele." I tried to speak softly. "Honey, I'm not trying to put you on the spot. But I'm your husband, Greg, remember Greg, and I'd like to know what's going on. I liked what this Rob guy said to you even though I'm not crazy about what he said to me."
"This Rob guy, huh," she said, "this Rob guy fucking understands me. Which is more than I can say for you."
I took a deep breath and told myself that she was coming from an emotional place that wasn't connected to an adult perspective. I wasn't at all certain I was connected to that particular perspective either. "Honey, I love you. I want to understand. I'd like for both of us to be able to talk to Rob and find out if he can help us see this differently. He seems to have the experience that we don't have."
After several long moments of glaring, the Adele I knew began to peek out of that angry face. "You aren't pissed at me for going behind your back?" She asked.
"Honey bunch, this has been a tough time for both of us. I think there's a lot we haven't shared with each other. That's as true of me as it is of you. We've both gone behind the other's back." Once I'd said that it was as if the ice had thawed. She flowed into my arms. We spent most of the night sharing the highlights of our individual explorations. Finally, as we talked, I realized that what I wanted was for her to be free to explore her deepest desires, sexual or otherwise. My image of her opening her legs to a strange man was a metaphor for her opening herself to her truest potentials.
She, on the other hand, felt a strong personal connection with Rob that didn't have anything to do with abstract conceptual metaphors of abstruse meaning. She liked this guy. He turned her on. This was frightening for me and I told her so. In my fantasies the man involved had always been a stranger we had chanced to meet; someone we'd never see again. The way she was talking, Rob might be a part of our lives, in and out of bed, for some time to come. And that brought up some deeply buried insecurities in me. I was afraid I'd be found inadequate when compared with him.
"What? You want to back out of this?" She asked, with more than a hint of anger.
"No, hon," I said, "I'm aware that I started all this and I will follow through. I simply want you to know what I'm feeling. That I'm realizing that things happen differently in reality than in my fantasies. And it scares me sometimes."
She snuggled up against me and placed my hand on her warm breast. "I understand, sweetheart; I get scared too. I love you Greg. Don't ever forget that. And I'm glad we're sharing this adventure together."
"I love you too," I said, lifting her leg to slide into her from behind. "God honey, you are so hot and wet."
"Hmmmm," was her response.
The next morning, after the kids had left the house on their usual Saturday visits to friends, we both sat down to write Rob an email summing up our late night conversation. Early in the evening he emailed his reply.
"Hi Adele and Greg, I was delighted to hear that the two of you have talked things out and that I'm still in the picture. I was very uncomfortable with the way things were. And Greg, I apologize for being so hard on you before." He went on to describe some of his experiences with other couples and how they'd worked out. His tone was very matter of fact and both Adele and I felt reassured by his obvious knowledge of the subject. We agreed that he seemed to be a thoughtful and caring person.
Another result was that we both became very aroused. I had to smile as I watched Adele wiggle in her chair as she read the words on the screen, her mouth slightly open and her tongue running across her lips now and then. I had a stiff one that caused me to do some wiggling of my own. If the kids hadn't been around I think we both would have started masturbating. As it was the kids got hustled off to bed at the stroke of nine and Adele and I raced for our bedroom slinging clothes left and right. Our love making that night was anything but routine. The fevered passion we'd thought we'd lost burned as brightly as it ever had.
One of Rob's stories involved a woman who liked to have him come on her tongue. At the moment Adele felt my climax approaching she hissed, "My tongue, baby, do it on my tongue." We'd never done this before. She'd always made negative comments about the come shots we'd seen in porn videos. And here she was begging for one. I pulled out of her cunt and straddled her chest, vigorously stroking my cock. Our eyes locked and she stuck out her tongue. I'd never seen her so aroused. With a loud groan I spilled my pearls into her pink mouth. She held her mouth open until the last drop fell. "Kiss me." She cried. I leaned down and tasted myself as our tongues wrestled.
That was the first of many new things we added to our erotic repertoire. Over the next few weeks we corresponded with Rob. He very patiently answered our questions and shared more of his knowledge. We also began to exchange phone calls; Adele talking with him most of the time. Then Adele and I decided we were ready to take the plunge. Adele phoned Rob to give him the good news and we began to make plans.
At last the big day arrived. We dropped the kids off at Adele's mother's house and made the two hour drive to Rob's home town. Both of us getting more and more nervous as we got closer. We rented a room at the motel that Rob had recommended and walked to the restaurant where we'd agreed to meet. We held hands tightly, like two children walking through a dark forest. A tall, slim, man with long hair rose from the bench when we walked in and met us halfway. He had a warm smile and a calm demeanor that helped us begin to feel a little more at ease.
"You must be Greg and Adele," he said in a resonant voice. When we nodded he leaned down to kiss Adele on the cheek and then shook my hand. Adele preceded us to the table and I noticed that Rob checked out her legs and bottom. He caught my eye while we were seating ourselves and somehow I knew that he was aware that I'd seen him looking. He showed no sign of embarrassment. I also got the impression that he'd liked what he saw.
At first the conversation was a little stilted but Rob kept asking us questions and sharing his thoughts and soon we were all talking as if we'd known one another for years. Rob and Adele especially. I think if he'd been any other man I would have felt threatened but in some way I didn't understand he created an ambiance in which those feelings never even began.
In part, I think, it was due to what he called his 'one ground rule' that he'd shared with us in an early email. He'd said that if any one of us was uncomfortable about what was happening we could say 'Stop'. He guaranteed that he'd stop even if no one else did. It gave me a much needed sense of control.
Once we'd finished eating and established that we all did indeed want to go through with this the three of us walked back to the motel. Adele and I were holding hands again but now it was more from anticipation than from fear. Rob wore a small sweet smile. There was another moment of awkwardness when we closed the door behind us but Rob broke through that by unbuttoning his shirt and saying, "Let's get naked." And, in no time, we were.
Neither Rob or I were hard at this juncture. Adele sat down on the edge of the bed, her breasts swaying, and beckoned us over. "Oh boy." She said as she took our soft cocks in her hands, "Every girl's dream." She took Rob's cock in her mouth first.
"Unless the girl's lesbian," Rob said with a laugh. "Oh yeah, that feels good." I could see him start to grow hard. I felt myself growing hard too. Soon Adele had her hands full. She pulled us together and took the heads of both our cocks into her mouth, looking up at us. I could see that Rob was about the same length as I but a bit thicker.
"God," Adele whispered, pulling away from us, "this makes me feel like a slut."
Rob had a slight frown, "you know I don't like that word. You have every right to be a sexual person."
"Oh, take the stick out of your ass," Adele said, "I feel like a slut and I like it."
Rob laughed, "Okay, okay."
"Quit the yakking and suck, slut," I said.
Rob began fingering her pussy while I played with her tits. I found it strange how normal this all felt. Here Adele and I were butt naked with a guy we'd only met a few hours ago and we're making silly jokes. Adele fell back on the bed and spread her legs. Rob and I both looked at her in awe. She was drinking it in. She grabbed her knees and opened herself wide.
"One of you schmucks gonna fuck me or do I have to grab some kid off the street?" Adele asked forcefully. Rob and I looked at each other and then I gave him the 'you first' gesture with my right hand. A second later I was watching him enter my wife. My fantasy, voiced so many months ago, had come true. I'd given her the key and she'd unlocked the door. "Oh Rob, that feels so good," she sighed. I knelt beside the bed, leaning on it, as I watched her. She looked so beautiful to me, her chest flushed with arousal.
Rob looked at me, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Go man," I said, "Fuck that slut. Make that hot cunted bitch cum." Adele turned to me, her eyes glowing, a big smile on her lips. And Rob did as he was told.
And then it was my turn. And, after a period of talk and resting, his again. He lay down on his back and Adele straddled him, holding his cock so she could guide him into herself. Once he was inside she lay on his chest as he held her.
"Ever try a dp?" I heard him ask her. She pushed herself up on her arms.
"What's a dp?"
"Double penetration," I said. "Two cocks inside you." I felt myself and knew I was hard enough.
"How the fuck would I try a dp if this is the first time I've been with two guys?" She retorted.
"Oh yeah, I forgot," Rob said. "Well?"
Adele looked at me. I shrugged and looked down at my cock. Adele looked down at my cock. Rob was looking at my cock too.
"Sure, why not," Adele said.
I climbed up between Rob's legs and positioned myself. Slowly I slid my cock into Adele's pussy, feeling Rob's cock beneath mine.
"Oh God." Adele said, her voice saturated with lust, excitement, and wonderment. "I feel so full. Oh, this is wild."
"Do you want us to stop?" I asked, giving Rob a devilish grin over Adele's shoulder.
"No." she moaned. "No fucking way. God no. No. No."
"Could you repeat that?" I chortled. "I thought I heard a part I didn't understand.”
Balls of Cobalt Blue
"I'll give you fifty dollars if you'll skinny dip in the fountain right now," Penny said as she parked her bike beside mine in the little alley next to the restaurant.
Vicente, our employer at El Rojo Gallo, had assigned me the task of scrubbing the ring of scum off the colorful Mexican tiles that lined the reservoir. Because I'm a guy, I guess. None of the women had to do these kinds of chores even though, as a waiter, my status was the same as theirs.
"Given my money situation I might take you up on that," I said, turning to look at her. The brush dangled in my hand. She flashed me a roguish grin and disappeared through the front door. I sat savoring the after image of her vigorous stocky body fading into the interior. Remembering the sparkle in her eyes.
It was the end of the tourist season and things were slow. Which was part of the reason I was out here scrubbing the fountain. I thought about Penny's challenge as I went back to work. It made the morning sun brighter, the air piquant.
Four days ago we'd urged a sluggish afternoon along with episodic conversation and Penny had mentioned that she'd been an English major at Iowa State University. Although I'd always found her attractive it was at that point that my interest in her quickened. Once she'd returned from checking on one of her tables I told her I was a writer. Her eyes filled with new respect. I told her I'd posted a number of my poems and one of my short stories online. One of my tables required attention. When I got back she asked me how she could access my writing. With a bit of trepidation, having had a couple of bad experiences mixing my private passion with the politics of the workplace, I gave her the Internet address.
"You're a very good writer, Stephen," she said the first time she saw me the next morning. "I'm impressed. I liked your short story a lot. Do you have any more?"
This is where things got sticky for me. "Yes, I do, but I'm not sure I feel comfortable sharing them with you." I could see that all I'd succeeded in doing was grab her attention.
"Why not?"
"Well," I said, "they're dirty. Erotica, if you will."
She gave me a speculative look and then laughed. "Stephen. I'm thirty-six years old, not a child. And whatever your fantasies are it's all basic human stuff."
"I'm not concerned about you so much as the fact that we work together. I've gotten into some difficulties at other jobs when I shared this side of myself."
Throughout the day she kept pleading her case. "I enjoy hardcore porn sometimes," she whispered once, picking up a coffee pot as I was returning one. "Believe me, I'm unshockable," she added later when our paths crossed again, "I'd love to see those stories."
I was amused by her attempts to convince me how worldly she was, how dirty minded. Yet her persistence made me feel shy and on the spot. But at last, flattered by her insistence, I gave her the Internet address. The next day, Wednesday, was her usual day off so this morning was the first time I'd seen her since giving her the key to my secret fantasy life. And the first words out of her mouth involved asking me to take off my clothes. I assumed she'd liked what she'd read.
"Hey," I said when I saw her after I'd finished cleaning the fountain. "You're no fun. You didn't stay to watch."
"You can always do an encore."
I mumbled something. On one hand I was shaken by her flirtatious challenges but on the other I enjoyed them very much. I liked the direction things were going. There were several more brief exchanges, all in a light teasing tone, in which we both kept upping the ante. And then the noon rush came and we didn't have the privacy or the time for more words. But my brain was churning. This was so much fun. I loved the fact that she wasn't backing down. I decided to confront her with a proposal.
"Let's go outside," I said, once the rush was over. She gave me a quizzical glance but didn't offer any resistance. We left Brooke and Cindy to watch our stations. "I've been thinking about our conversation," I said. We passed through the side door into the alley. "Usually I take women out of their comfort zones but you've taken me out of mine."
"I'm sorry, Stephen," she said.
"Oh no," I said. "I like it. But I have a dare for you."
"Okay," she said.
"The fountain out front doesn't work for me because I'd just as soon keep my job but how about if we could find someplace outdoors reasonably private?"
"And?"
"And you can keep your fifty dollars. If you show me yours I'll show you mine."
"Okay," she said. Without the least bit of hesitation. I was more than a little stunned. At this point Vicente's brown face appeared on the other side of the screen door and informed us that we had customers. Penny and I gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment and then I pulled the door open and we walked inside.
And I started to sweat. Bullets. I took orders and delivered plates of burritos and enchiladas but my mind was clenched with fear. What if she goes to Vicente and says, "Stephen asked me to get naked and I'm very offended." What if she thinks I'm nuts and closes down. What if. What if. I was hoping for the best but prepared for the worst. I caught her eye a couple of times and tried to gauge her state of mind but couldn't. Things slowed down again and I decided to confront the issue directly. I stopped her outside the door of the women's restroom.
"Was I out of line?" I said. Our eyes met.
"Concerning our conversation earlier? About someplace outdoors?"
"Yeah."
She shrugged in a way that conveyed to me that she didn't have a problem.
"You're cool with it?" I asked.
"Sure," she said. "I don't agree to things I don't feel right about." I was giddy with relief.
Later, during the quiet afternoon, we went on to plan the details of when and where. We decided on Saturday afternoon after work, since the next day, Friday, she had an appointment. We agreed that we'd ride our bikes to a place she knew of not far from a house where she used to live.
"I'm used to women either closing down or running away when I come up with these harebrained ideas," I said. "It means a lot to me that you're willing to do this."
"Life's too short to let your fears limit you," she told me. "And anyway, I grew up with four brothers so I don't find men to be especially scary."
"I used to go to the nude beach when I lived in California. I've been to a couple of nudist camps too. So I've had some experience with this sort of thing."
"I've done a few things like that myself," she said. "Taking showers outdoors while camping with friends. Skinny dipping. I'm comfortable with my body so it's no big deal."
SHE PUT IN A SHORT day on Friday, before leaving for her appointment, but I had a chance to talk with her for a few minutes and didn't see any signs that she was having reservations.
On Saturday morning, before going to work, I rolled up a thick blanket and attached it to my bike with bungee cords. I also put a couple of condoms in my wallet. Neither of us had broached the subject of our being sexual together but then nothing we'd said took it out of consideration. My nerves sang with anticipation as I pedaled to the restaurant.
She was parking her bike as I rode up and I could see that she'd caught sight of the blanket. We exchanged a quick secret smile before she headed inside. I wasn't far behind.
The time dragged by. We chatted when we had the chance but neither of us mentioned the adventure we'd planned. At long last it was time for us to leave and we walked out to our bikes together. Since she knew where we were going she took the lead once we'd mounted up. I followed her for a couple of miles until she stopped at the beginning of a gravel road that led down into a rocky canyon. On the floor of the canyon two sets of railroad tracks ran parallel to the primitive road.
"We'll have to walk the bikes from here," she said. It took some effort to get the bikes down the steep decline but soon the road became relatively level.
"So, what got you started writing erotic stories?"
"Well," I said, "sex can drag us into situations where we learn things about ourselves that we might not be motivated to discover any other way. That interests me."
She nodded.
"We enter into something thinking that all we want is an orgasm and emerge with a new way of perceiving the world."
"Sounds serious," she said. She was walking enough in front of me that I couldn't see her face but I could hear her smile.
"Yeah, well, to be quite frank I started out writing stories about what I call 'passionate plumbing'. Detailed descriptions of sex acts, that is. But somewhere along the line the sex acts became less interesting to me than the dynamics between the people involved."
"Hmmm," she said.
Several minutes later we were climbing high into the rocks beside the road. When we got to a reasonably flat area behind several large boulders I spread out the blanket I'd taken off my bike. We both hesitated for a second, now that the moment of truth had arrived, and then I pulled my t-shirt over my head. I looked over and saw that she'd kicked off her sandals and was sliding her spandex shorts from under her dress.
"You know, I didn't wear a dress until I was twenty-three," she said. "The only reason I wear them now is because Vicente insists we do."
While I untied my shoes she slipped out of her dress, standing there in a pair of lime-green v-string panties and a multi-colored bathing suit top. I unbuckled my belt, unzipped, and pushed my jeans down my legs.
"We've wondered if you wore underwear. Brooke and I said you didn't and Cindy said you did."
"I haven't worn underwear since I was a kid," I said. "Didn't make sense to me."
She unhooked the top and let her medium sized breasts swing free. Tucking her fingers into the sides of her panties she pushed them down. I noted that she was almost hairless, though not shaven.
"You're so white." She said. "Your arms and face are tanned but the rest of you isn't."
"At the nudist camp they called people like me 'cottontails'."
"Well, I'll never have that problem," she said, smiling as she sat down beside me.
I lay on my side, leaning on my elbow, and drank in the sight of her body as she stretched out on her back. Her nipples were the size of thimbles and almost as dark as blackberries. She was, what my fourth grade teacher called, 'pleasantly plump'. Very pleasantly.
She observed my gaze. "I feel I need to say something," she said. "I realize that my agreeing to get naked with you might suggest otherwise but I don't do casual sex."
I was disappointed. I couldn't help it. But to be fair to her I had to admit that she'd never hinted that sex would be part of the experience. "You don't care if I get blue balls?" I said, keeping my tone light.
"Not really," she said with that sparkle in her eyes. We both laughed.
"I haven't been with anyone for awhile," I said, my voice more emotional than I'd intended.
"Yeah, for me too."
"What do you do for sex? Or doesn't it bother you?"
She turned her head to look at me directly. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'bother'. But I masturbate." I nodded and she turned away. We could hear a train approaching.
The train rumbled past. I wondered if the engineer could see us. Maybe our faces. I thought our bodies were probably hidden by the rocks.
"Perhaps we could masturbate together," I said. "We'd be sharing what we do separately. Not exactly like having sex but there is intimacy. And stimulation."
She thought about that for awhile. "I could see doing that," she said. "But not today."
The conversation rambled on into more ordinary topics. We talked about work and shared a bit about our pasts. She seemed to feel comfortable with me. I felt a deep gratitude to her for giving me the gift of her nakedness. Another train passed, going the other way.
"I'd better be getting back," she said at last.
We put our clothes back on, rolled up the blanket, and climbed down out of the rocks. Recovering our bikes we walked back up the gravel road, chatting as we went, until we reached the street.
"This was fun," she said. We stood side by side.
"For me too," I said. "How about having dinner with me tomorrow? At my place."
"As long as we're clear about the sex thing," she said, giving me a meaningful glance.
"Of course, Penny. I like you. I plain enjoy being with you. Would hamburgers and a salad be too prosaic?"
"Sounds good."
We climbed onto our bikes and headed in opposite directions.
"Thank you," she called as she crossed the street.
"No, thank you," I called back. I was rewarded with another sparkle from her dark eyes. It warmed me to my core.
I GOT TO WORK before she did the next morning and was wrapping silverware in napkins with Cindy and Brooke when she arrived.
"I hope that little problem with the color blue got worked out," she said. Brooke and Cindy looked mystified. Penny and I shared a secret smile.
"No, but that's okay," I said.
The day passed quickly. The restaurant was busy as it often is on Sundays when the locals either decide to let someone else do the cooking or stop by for something after church. Once our shift was over I gave her directions to my house. She agreed to come by around five.
I spent the rest of the afternoon tidying things up and readying the outdoor grill. My activity made my two cats, Harold and Maude, nervous and they kept chasing each other around the house until I cranked up the vacuum cleaner which sent them both scurrying under the bed.
I heard the crunch of gravel in my driveway just before five and opened the door to investigate. Penny had stepped out of a firetruck-red Jeep Wrangler and was reaching back inside.
"I didn't know you had a car," I said. "All I've seen you ride is the bike."
"Yes, well, I like to ride the bike. I need the exercise. And gas prices being what they are, you know. I hope you don't mind if I brought dessert," she said, holding a box containing a pie in her hands.
"No, that's great. I didn't think of dessert." I stepped aside to let her in.
"Oh, wow." She said, looking around my living room at the profusion of books. "You could open a library."
"I can't seem to pass a used book store without buying a couple," I said, leading her into the kitchen. "And I find it very hard to part with one once it's bought." Harold and Maude had appeared, tails in the air, to examine the guest and give her their stamp of approval. "These are my cats," I said, introducing them. "I hope you're not allergic, I should have asked."
"I love cats. These two are quite a pair." After depositing the pie on the counter she crouched down to get better acquainted. Her t-shirt fell away from her body and I could see she was wearing a regular bra this time. Turquoise.
I picked up the plate on which four hamburger patties had been thawing. "I'll get these on the grill and then come back to make the dressing for the salad."
When I returned she was looking through my books. "Very interesting," she said. I mixed the ingredients of the dressing while she continued to browse. Fifteen minutes later everything was ready. We stood next to each other at the counter, built our hamburgers, and filled our salad bowls. And then we carried them outside to the table on the patio. The grill was still exuding flavorful smoke. "Hey, it's nice out here," she said.
We ate in silence, exchanging occasional friendly glances. It felt good to be with her.
"I don't feel ready for pie yet," I said when I finished.
"I don't either."
"But what I would like to do, if you're interested, is listen to A Prairie Home Companion, Garrison Keillor's radio variety show on NPR."
"I'm not familiar with it," she said. "But sure, if you want to."
"They sometimes do skits about English majors I thought you'd enjoy."
"Okay."
"I do have to warn you, though, that about the only comfortable place in the house is my bed. I'm more into buying books than couches or chairs."
Her look and head shake expressed wry amazement. "I guess that's all right. You didn't jump me when you had me naked so I guess I can trust you not to do it now."
We took the dirty dishes into the kitchen. While she made a side trip to the bathroom I turned on the radio and got into the bed next to the wall, arranging the pillows so that we'd be able to sit up. The toilet flushed and a moment later she joined me.
I was gratified to see that she enjoyed the music and humor. They didn't perform a skit about English majors but there were plenty of good laughs without one. About halfway through the program I put my arm around her shoulders. She went kind of still for a couple of minutes and then she relaxed against me, putting her arm on my stomach.
"I liked that," she said when the show ended. "I'll have to start listening." A program of Celtic music began. We continued to lean together without speaking.
"Would you like to get naked with me?" She said at last.
I felt a warm flush spread through my body. "I thought about it but I wasn't going to ask," I said. "I'd love to. I love looking at you."
"I don't know why I like it. I've never done this with anyone else," she said. She got out of bed. I watched as her t-shirt slid up her back and over her head and then was tossed into the upholstered armchair nearby. "I feel comfortable with you somehow," she said, turning to face me as she reached around to unhook her bra. "You have a nice way of looking at me."
I absorbed the revelation of her breasts as the bra joined the t-shirt on the chair. I'd taken off my own t-shirt and was pushing my jeans down my legs. She observed me closely.