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It had been months since I had seen him. Three months to be exact, three months of loneliness and frustration of the emotional and sexual kind. The intensely sexual kind. Three months of becoming literally a mistress of the art of masturbation and self-pleasuring. Three months of experience which I couldn’t wait to share with Brian.

These were the thoughts that filtered through the sleepiness of my jet-lagged brain as I stared out the tiny fiberglass window of the plane. Not that there was anything to see but the fluffy whiteness of clouds, so there was no view to distract me from my contemplation. And considering the reunion soon to be at hand, I could think of little else but finally ending three months worth of grueling celibacy.

I checked my watch again. Still an hour and a half remaining in the flight. With a sigh I lowered the window shade and nestled my head against the pillow I had stuffed between the seat and the wall of the airplane. My gritty eyelids inexorably lowered, and I dozed…

He stroked my face and gazed into my eyes as I squirmed underneath him. I gazed back earnestly, all of the need and desire mirrored blatantly there for him to see. But still he teased me. Lifting his hips, he probed my pussy with just his cock head, and in my sensitized condition, could almost feel the slit slide like a custom-made groove over my clit. I arched against him further, seeking to suck him inside of me, needing the penetration so badly I thought I would die.

Although I knew he wanted it almost as badly as I did, he still withheld. “Just a second,” he said, “Need to make sure you’re wet enough.” Then his mouth was on mine, his tongue plunging into my mouth aggressively. My eyes were closed, my head swam, but still I could feel his hand snake down between our two sweating bodies, inch into my damp muff, and slide a finger slowly over my clit and down between the cleft of my slick pussy lips. He pushed his finger inside of me, up to his bottom knuckle, and wiggled it around, testing the waters, as his knuckles continued to grind into my hot mound.

“Oh God…” I moaned shakily, “Please…” His hand left my soaking cunt, and slithered up between our torsos, leaving a slimy trail up my abdomen. He stopped to cup one heavy breast, and roughly pinched my nipple. I gasped.

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I hated this feeling. I can can tell exactly where he is standing: over to the side and back a bit. Around the corner of the bar and moving into the hallway. To the bathrooms? Sigh. I am feeling, well, heh, warmed up.

Mmm. If I take a deep breath [BJ breaths in], I can feel the my top tighten against my breasts. As there is no bra tonight, I can feel my nipples rub across the knit fabric. A thick yarn. Rub, rub. My legs too; movement, or squeezing is good. There is that slippery sensation and a bit of dampness on my panties. Arrgh!

What would he be like? I’d love to run my hands through his hair; to feel his hair tickling my fingers. To trace a finger down his chest. What would the hair be like on his legs? Soft and fuzzy like some forest animal? Or strong, tickling my hands as they rubbed his inner thighs? To kiss his neck. He has a beautiful neck. I love to kiss necks; a sloppy sucking kind of a kiss. His ears too. Then to move down to his chest. Maybe nibble a nipple? Wonder what he likes. Across his stomach, which I imagine as a washboard. And then, oh! I should stop thinking like this! Dam it, I’m married!

I open my eyes. Hey — where did Jamie go? Oh, there out slithering with that guy she met on the dance floor. They look like they are having fun. If anything Jamie says is true, boy is he in for a treat tonight! Wish someone would do that sort of thing to me!

Wait. Here he comes again. I can feel that tugging in between my legs. I try to squeeze it way, but it is still there. And stronger. It must be really wet. Mmmm. Oh! He’s coming closer. Checking me out. Ah yes, the usual male scan. Rests a while on my breasts — I push them out and feel my sweater rub across my nipples. Wonder if he saw the expression on my face. Moves down to my legs. I’m wearing a short mini-skirt so he should get an eyeful.

Yikes! Eye contact. I’m locked. I can feel a flood of heat into my face. Good thing the strobe lights, etc. don’t show anything. He looks around at the dance floor. At Jamie. Why did he do that? Back at me. Oh my! He’s coming over. He’s asking me to dance!

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The phone rang, and Jennifer jumped. Darlene, her roommate, gave her an annoyed look and picked up the phone. “Hello? Yeah, this is Darlene. Huh? Oh, sure…I have it right here.” Flashing Jennifer another annoyed look, she picked up her math assignment sheet and started to read an assignment from it.

Jenny hugged her pillow close to her, listening to the phone conversation and trying to take refuge in its relative normalcy. It wasn’t him. Thank god it wasn’t him. She pressed her cheek into the soft fabric of the pillow, and held it tightly. Her eyes stared to the side, her mind fighting once again to deny what had happened to her before. It seemed like a dream now, but Jennifer knew it had not been a dream. She could not wake up from this nightmare.

She heard the click as Darlene hung up, and heard her roommate stand. She didn’t look, but she knew the expression that was on Darlene’s face; it was Darlene’s exasperation look, with her eyebrows jagged and her lips pursed together tightly. Jennifer had been seeing Darlene’s exasperation look quite a bit lately.

“You want to tell me what the hell is going on, Jennifer?” Darlene snapped. “I can see being startled by the phone, once, maybe twice, but EVERY FUCKING TIME? What’s gotten into you? You’re so jumpy lately… and you won’t tell me why! What’s wrong, Jennifer?”

Jennifer was silent for a moment. Once again, she was tempted to just blurt out the whole story, about Mark, about his powers, what he had done to her. And once again, she stopped herself. For one, she didn’t want to draw anyone into this beside herself. And for another…who would believe her? Jenny barely believed it herself.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she mumbled.

“What?!? The hell, nothing’s wrong! You’ve completely weirded out on me, Jen! You stay in the room all day, moping around, staring into space. You won’t answer the phone anymore, and it seems to scare you to death whenever it rings…you won’t talk to anyone, you don’t go out anymore…you can’t tell me nothing’s wrong. Give me some credit, Jennifer!”

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She was an attractive divorcee, and a lot of fun to talk to. I had no idea she would say “That sounds like a great idea!” when I suggested she join my wife and me for an evening. And the lack of resistance when I asked Jan about it didn’t really make me feel too badly.

Here we were together in the hotel suite after an evening of dining and dancing. Sally liked Tuborg Gold Tequila and Jan liked Manhattans. I was all set for both. We sat and had a few drinks, when Sally asked Jan to join her in a joint. She never had before, but was willing to try. I had just quit smoking a few years before, so didn’t dare join them.

Well, it wasn’t long, with pot and whiskey, and three people who had known each other for a few years, before the atmosphere became very, very comfortable. I finally suggested turning off the lights and lying down and they both agreed.

It was pitch dark, and my clothes were off in a flash. Lying there in the middle of the king size bed, I was growing with anticipation, hearing them both undressing on either side of the bed. Sally lay down first and I put my arm around her, kissing her gently. Her skin was so soft, and I had never touched her before. As I felt the bed move when Jan sat down, I rolled over on my back, taking her in my other arm. Her breasts were larger, and her perfume sweet, and she snuggled in closely.

I was in ecstasy, feeling both of them in my arms, and their thighs against mine. Both of their hands were exploring my chest and abdomen. Suddenly I realized that I could feel their lips and bodies, but I could no longer feel their hands. They had reached across and were exploring each other intimately. I could begin to feel their hips writhe as their fingers found each others clits and reached inside.

Then they began kissing my nipples, and running their tongues across my belly and into my belly button. Their tongues met on the tip of my penis as they were kissing the shaft on each side at the same time. Two tongues on my cock at the same time, and then an alternate seesaw battle taking turns sucking and engulfing it. And always not being able to more than guess where their hands were.

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At thirteen, Angie was not very different from all the other eighth graders. The other girls were approaching sexual maturity, some faster than others. Certainly they were all sex conscious, with budding breasts, spreading hips, a new growth of pretty pubic curls. A few of the girls were already full-busted, though these few were at a distinct disadvantage–their thrusting titties gave the look of being fully sexually aware, and mostly, they were by no means ready for any kind of mature behavior. The boys of the same age were a couple of years behind the girls in development.

That summer, after school was through, Angie was sent to Wisconsin to visit her aunt. This was more or less an annual affair, having happened at least twice before. Those summers, Angie’s mother had been overseas on business, and auntie’s house was a convenient place to park her where she would not get into any trouble. Well, not much anyway.

Aunt Millie was a new divorcee. She had a new boyfriend that she was trying to catch, so she frankly had not much time to think about a niece–who she did not really want around, anyway. She was out most evenings, leaving Angie to “play” with the other kids on the street. The kids were a couple of years older, but Angie’s nicely developing figure gave her the look of a 15 year old, and certainly she did know what it was all about even if she had not really done anything yet.

The girl next door, Sally McIvers, was a year older than Angie. She too knew what it was all about, and had some experience at wild petting parties. Usually she was the youngest one at the party. One of the boys on the street suggested that Angie be invited to the next party, and Sally thought this was a good idea. Angie was invited, was excited at the prospect of being with the older kids. Sally told her that there would be plenty of smooching and some petting, but nothing too strong.

Angie had been kissed a few times and once, her cousin had sneaked up behind her and took each of her breasts in his hands, nicely squeezing them as she squealed. Later, a day or two later, while kissing her, he had forced his hand down the back of her slacks, inside her panties, and there squeezed each of those delicious rounds. He did not try to get a finger into her pussy–though later that evening, while alone in bed, she thought about the episode with great excitement, ran her hands across her naked mound. But now afraid, she stopped.

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