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He breathed in the fresh air and felt more alive than he had in months. “Man, I love summer,” he said as he surveyed the scene. There were people everywhere on the beach, some just sunning, some playing frisbee, some reading. There were people of all shapes and sizes, like always. He loved seeing all the skin at Wreck Beach.

He walked down the bank and hunted for a good spot. He wanted to be a little away from people, but not so far as to not be able to look at the pretty women! A place found, he spread out his blanket and took his book out of his satchel, and then started to strip. “Nude beaches are great for just being yourself,” he thought. A toss, and the t-shirt and shorts were piled on top of his shoes, and he smiled as he felt the wind caress his skin.

He sat down and got ready for a good read when he saw her. She was sitting ahead of him and to the left, on a slight rise in the beach, and she was watching the frisbee players. A pretty thing, she had curly auburn hair and a body like he hadn’t seen in years (well, okay, maybe months – but it seemed like years). She noticed him looking at her, and she smiled. Embarrassingly, he felt his penis harden, and he reflexively closed his legs. She seemed more curious for a moment, and then rolled over on her stomach, while never letting him out of her sight. He finally noticed with a start that her left leg ended above the knee.

He wasn’t sure what to think at first, and it must have read on his face, as she kept peering at him quizzically over the crook of one arm. He took little glimpses at the bare, pink stump and felt like a voyeur for doing so. Meanwhile, his penis seemed to keep proving who had control of such situations by continuing to grow. Dammit to hell, hardons just didn’t happen to him down here! Here he was, staring at this poor one-legged beauty and sporting a huge erection, probably making her feel like a freak in a freak show …

… except that she was now smiling at him. He suddenly saw how comical he must look, sitting there trying to deny reality. He felt a sheepish grin spread over his face and he exhaled some of his tension away. He pointed down in the general direction of Mr. Happy and shrugged, and she collapsed in the sand, laughing. He felt the erection fade, as he too, laughed.

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A few months ago my wife of three months, Adelaide, and I were relaxing in bed after having made love. Adelaide snuggled up next to me and whispered, “Honey would you like to fuck my ass tonight?” I looked at her, eyes wide in amazement, and managed to mumble an affirmative response. My lovely bride rolled on top of me and with a devilish grin began to French-kiss me.

We spent a few frenzied minutes in foreplay ending with my wife lying on her stomach and me nibbling on her delicious asscheeks. When it was time, Adelaide moved to the middle of the bed and slowly got up on her knees, resting her head on a pillow and lifting her beautiful bottomin the air. I was sitting on the edge of the bed spreading lubricant on my penis when I heard my wife call my name.

I glanced over and saw Adelaide reach back and run her hands slowly up her thighs intil they rested on her asscheeks. She whispered to me in a sultry voice, “Wes, put your big dick up my ass. I need it so bad.” With that, she pulled apart her asscheeks, exposing her [tag]asshole[/tag] to my view.

This was without a doubt the most erotic scene I had ever witnessed. I was overcome by a sexual rush the likes of which I had never experienced and I promptly lost control, semen spurting from my cock without even touching it.

After we finished cleaning the bedroom carpet, I told my wife that I had never been so sexually excited in my life. Unfortunately, I was unable to regain my erection, since I had already come twice that night, so we couldn’t follow through with the assfuck. I did ask her, however, where she had gotten the idea for what she had done.

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She awoke at midnight again, the way she had for the past three nights, the sheets twisted tightly into an umbilical cord binding her to the sweaty womb of her bed.

She disentangled herself from the tangled topsheet and laid back, closing her eyes. Immediately the dream from which she had awakened flashed into her consciousness: the utter darkness and the sudden, dim, slanting light; the stranger, the man she had seen and followed; the small anonymous room; the smell, the feel of him; the awful, all-consuming hunger.

She opened her eyes quickly, sat up and turned on the nightstand light to dispel the vision. No sense trying for sleep now, she thought. Why the dream had come, why it affected her, consumed her like this, she did not know; but for now it would not leave her.

She lit a cigarette, hoping to concentrate on that and occupy her mind, dispel the terrible demon that was the dream with the mundane, the ordinary. She sat back against the headboard, and without thinking closed her eyes tiredly.

Instantly the dream filled her vision again. A dark restaurant, club, bar, a place she had never been; a man she did not know — no, did not *want* to know; the small room, featureless apart from a bed against one wall, without blankets or frame or headboard; the feel of him against her, on top of her; feeling him between her legs, parting them, dividing her (divide and conquer, a part of her mind thought, unbidden), opening her….

She started suddenly, looking down. As of its own volition, her hand was caressing her bare thigh, grasping it, pulling her leg away from its mate…opening her….

She stubbed out the cigarette and jumped to her feet, her heart racing, pounding. This is ridiculous, she thought, pacing the floor. It’s a dream. *Only* a dream. I’m in control; it only affects me as much as I want it to.

Instantly upon thinking the phrase she stopped her pacing. The truth penetrated her mind: she *did* want it to affect her, to consume her. She wanted a reality to match the dream.

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August 6, 1990

What makes a person crazy? I mean, how do I know when I’m losing my mind? Maybe I’m just imagining things. Stress, yeah that’s it. Now, calm down Amanda and just try to be calm.

There it is again!

For God’s sake, why doesn’t it leave me alone?

I keep hearing this voice. It’s calling my name. I know, I know, how can such a simple thing scare me so much? Well, its weird! I can be working, or reading, and suddenly I hear, clear as a bell, “Amanda.” I turn, and there’s no one there. I’m alone in the house right now. My roomates are still at work – I came home early because of this stupid voice.

It’s been going on for nearly 3 months now. Since I graduated, in fact. It started out as maybe once or twice a week, now it’s up to several times a day. Out of nowhere, “Amanda.”

It’s a male voice. I know that much. So I’m hallucinating that a man is speaking to me. Maybe I’m desperate. I’m smiling as I write that, because, no, I’m not desperate. If I were desperate I would have agreed to go out with Shane last week. But no, I won’t date him. I’ve heard too much about his fast hands. Rob on the other hand is a possibility, but he’s not even noticed I’m anywhere around yet.

Okay, I’m calmer now, and I think I’ll be able to sleep. I’ll just turn out the light and sleep, and there won’t be any more strange voices to bother me.

August 17, 1990

It’s 4 AM and I just woke up from the strangest dream. The sheets are soaked with sweat and my hands are shaking so hard that this is hardly readable. I’ve never had a dream like that before in my life. I wish dreams weren’t so hazy. If I could only recall it clearly I think I might understand…

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I have been thinking much about Dianne lately. You see, she is a very beautiful single woman, very open sexually, and very caring for others (it is difficult for a man, and some women, to resist such a combination). I met her several months ago — of all places — in the waiting room of my dentist, where she shared with me her business (which is of no relevance to this story). My wife, Kristin, and I decided a few weeks later to join her business venture, and because of this association we have since developed a very close friendship with Dianne.

Kristin apparently has also of late been thinking a lot about Dianne. The signs are obvious — daily phone calls, visits to her apartment, her name being brought up in our conversation, etc. Last week, Dianne and Kristin went backpacking by themselves to the local wilderness area while I kept our two kids at home (it is important for my wife, a financial planner, to get away from the daily grind and enjoy her friends apart from me)….

Last Friday, Dianne called me up and wanted me to meet her for lunch at our favorite restaurant. After a light lunch with some equally light but strangely forced conversation, Dianne looked into my eyes with a look that I’ve never seen before, a look of fear combined with a look of desire, and asked, “Mark, it is difficult for me to say this, but I have fallen in love with both you and Kristin.”

I didn’t know how to respond to this. On the one hand, my sexual desire for her was burning bright, and I got excited about what was soon to transpire, yet her simultaneous love for my wife confused, scared, and intrigued me. What could I say? I looked at her for a moment, and without thinking I said, “Does Kristin know your feelings for her? As far as I know, Kristin is straight, and has never in our relationship stated anything to the contrary. All I know is that my desire for you is very strong, and that I have wanted for several weeks to make love to you.”

“I know about your feelings for me,” Dianne replied, “I could see it in your actions, in your words, and in your eyes. And my feelings for you are just as strong. Kristin knows about my love for her and for you, and she is in love with me as she is in love with you. It was during our backpacking trip that we expressed our love for one another.”

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