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When this story began, you may remember, I slipped Wanda’s panties and little bra from her basement laundry shoot, took them upstairs to my room one afternoon after school, thinking I was all alone in the two-family house we shared. After I put them on, masturbated, sniffed, and rubbed them all over myself (I was careful not to cum on them, but into my hand, which I wiped carefully with tissues as well); I returned them to her laundry shoot when I started to do my family’s wash for my mother, who had left instructions in a note. While I was in the basement, Wanda came down from her first-floor apartment, aroused me, and led me upstairs to my room again, for my virgin fucking and sucking. I had little reason thereafter to put her panties on, fucking and eating her delicious cunt was far more exciting that masturbating with nylon panties on. I loved cunt-licking far more than anything else sexual I had ever even dreamed about. Now you’re about to read about the second adventure with Wanda and her bisexual husband, Wayne.

The following Saturday night, after a boring, sexless week of impatient waiting, Wayne and Wanda had invited me downstairs for more sex play with them, beginning again at 8:30. My friend Richard agreed to cover for me again, if my parents called, and I had given him Wayne and Wanda’s phone number to alert me to call home or to come home. (I was lucky enough to go until 11:30 again with no call, so the second Saturday night orgy was uninterrupted and wonderful.)

When I knocked on their door at precisely 8:30, two, not one, sexy women greeted me: Wanda, the delicate, and a stranger with big tits, which a jersey top could hardly contain. I wanted immediately to release those jugs from her blouse even before Wanda told me that she was Wilma, her sister-in-law. It was dark in the living room, and again Wanda led me down the hallway to their back bedroom. In the darkened front part of the apartment, however, Wilma grabbed me in her strong big arms, pressed me to her voluptuous chest and french kissed me with the largest, searching tongue that ever entered my mouth. She turned me on good; and I had already come downstairs with an erection. I reached up for her mammoth mammaries, but she forced my hand away from them casually. I accepted that and figured that I could wait until she took them out to show me and to have me suck them later.

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You’ve just turned off your COMEputer after reading all of the messages. You decide it’s time for you to go to bed. As you climb between the cool sheets, I can tell what you’re thinking. I know what you’re thinking.

You can’t see me but there I am. Standing in the shadows watching and waiting. As you turn off the light, I wait patiently for you to go to sleep. My heart is pounding wildly against the thin fabric of the gown that flows over my naked body. Covering all that is there that will make you stiff. I want you. As I watch you drift into a half sleep, I long for you. I move from my hiding place slowly across the room to the bed which you lie upon.

Your breathing is even and slow. I gently nudge against your bed, shaking it only enough to make you turn over to gaze at me with half sleepy eyes. My hands slowly move over the roundness of my breasts, down to my smooth stomach caressing my hips, my thighs. As you watch me you wonder how I have gotten here to where you are, but you really don’t care. I gently crawl on top of the bed just next to you. My fingers rest gently upon your lips as I gaze into your eyes you know what I want.

My fingers move from your lips slowly to your neck as I bend to kiss you with my soft, full lips. Softly and gently my tongue enters your mouth as your arms come and enclose me, pulling me towards you. I can feel your heart beating against my chest wildly. I break the kiss only to slide my lips to your neck so they may lick and pull on the skin where I feel your pulse beating rapidly. My fingers caress your chest, my nails tracing a pattern from one nipple to the other.

Gently flicking it just enough to feel your cock stiffen against my thigh. My mouth soon follows. Leaving a wet pattern with my tongue, I move down to your stomach, slowly. My eyes steadily watching you watching me. As I kiss the insides of your thighs, your cock is positioned directly in front of me, standing there waiting for my mouth to attack it. But I won’t! I want you to feel everything.

I want you to feel everything that is being done to you. My tongue slowly and wetly licks little circles pulling your balls into my mouth, so warm, so wet. The sensation is about to drive you out of your mind.

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Your hand comes to immediate and reassuring rest upon the small of my back, as it unfailingly does whenever you are lying next to me as I stir into awakening. We have shared this moment many times over the years, and this familiar yet ever unexpected gesture continues to move me. I sometimes ponder how a subtle, unabated desire for you has remained so alive and flame-like within me; familiarity so often dulls our sensitivity to the changing beauty of those we love.

We don’t sleep like spoons and our shared time is as sporadic and imperfect as the paradoxical creatures we ourselves are. We part for a time but always come back to each other to share the intimacy again.

Your hand knows (whether you yourself do or not) that I need its warmth, its current, its solidity, to bring my body to life. I have lived much without it, given our penchant for separations, but it is still the current of life to me, that hand on my back; it is my food, my desire, my reason. From your palm to the small of my bark and out through my belly, which rests flat on the surface of the bed, your solar glow begins its slow radiance, suffusing my heart with its warmth, flowing downward like molten lava over my Venusian mound, down farther, down the insides of my legs, stirring like lights the inner spaces below my ankles.

Perhaps you are still dreaming, unaware of this journey we have begun. It is as though your instinct is ahead of you, moving you toward me, drawing you from your solitary flight in the boundless universe of dreamland. I don’t know — can we ever know another’s experience directly? Still, my imagination seeks images of explanation; what is it at your deepest core that knows me? I don’t ask, I feel the current travel from you through me and out again; our molecules, heedless of our possible intent, begin their rhythmic intimate dance.

I listen to the sound of birds outside our room, then the sound of our breathing, now in unison, all of my senses coming alive. This time, this unique and unrepeatable time, I hear the rustling of the sheets as you stir. Moments pass. Your hand changes pressure ever so slightly. Our breathing is slow, rhythmic, relaxed, yet deeper.

My eyes, resisting morning, are still closed and I am awake within that light-darkness. You are wordlessly aware that I am awake; our ritual is silence. We are orphan-close, so far away in this moment from the day which will soon press in upon us. We are farther still from our differences, our troubles, far from who we often pretend we are, even to each other. Do we really even know each other? I think not. Yet, our intimacy is so complete that we are like one being in this quiet time of shared arousal.

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A nice evening at her place, I thought as we got out of the car. Good wine, a wonderful sex goddess, and a good dinner lying happily in my stomach. What else could a man ask for? “To fuck like crazed weasels,” I muttered as I watched Jennifer slink up the walkway, with her one flawless leg catching in the light from the street light. “What’s that, dear?” she said, pivoting to look at me. A flash of white skin caught the dim yellow light where the stump I’d been thinking about through dinner was. “Nothing, I was just muttering to myself. They tell me the insanity isn’t anything to worry about unless I start st-st-stu-stuttering.”

Her infectious laugh filled the still air as we went into her apartment. I walked in and took off my shoes and watched as she placed a crutch tip on either side of her red pump and lifted her right foot out in one fluid motion. She was worth another hungry look in the room light. That oft-admired bare leg was perfect right down to the way the toes curved. Her hips and backside were pushing against her tight death-by-red dress. A bit further up, her full breasts were pressing hard against the fabric, with firm little points crying out to be touched. Her pretty hands flexed around the grips of the aluminum crutches that helped her look so athletic.

Her eyes sparkled above her wide smile when I finally looked up at her pretty face. She turned and hugged me, and said, “Could you pour the wine? There are stem glasses in the cupboard above and to the left of the sink.” She then headed to the sofa as I uncorked the bottle and found the supplies I needed.

I thought about her as I made busy in the kitchen. I’d met her how long ago? Was it really only two weeks? From the first time I’d seen her hop past me at the pool, I’d been addicted. That stump, ending just above the knee, had just not been out of my mind since. But nor had her breasts, her earlobes, her very fingers – she was just everywhere! I’d almost jumped her in the Japanese restaurant earlier when, after I gave her right foot a good massage, she slipped said bare foot up above my ankle and started rubbing my leg. Yes, she’d be a dish in any language, and that truncated thigh just made it more exotic.

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Bobby was now glad for one important thing. That he had always thought that it was important that he always be in top physical shape. After all, not only was he soon to go into the service in a few months, but always being conscious of how he looked had always been an important factor in the way he felt.

There was also a third reason now why the 18-year-old man appreciated being in top shape. For the past hour now, he had been riding his bike either along with, or behind his most recent girlfriend, Barbi. And in spite of his knowing that at any time he could easily outrace her, he was constantly surprised and highly pleased when the 18-year old girl continually proved that she could stay right up with him. Like now, having ridden almost a mile up a steep hill, following close behind her to protect her from traffic, he was soon beginning to spend more and more time really ‘noticing’ her for the first time.

At first she was merely hunched over the bike handlebars, and as Bobby pulled up beside her, he had an unusual feeling deep within his loins as he noticed how her costume fit her. Her tiny cut-off T-Shirt, of a semi transparent material, was fluttering in the breeze, and from his position slightly behind her, Bobby gulped as he noticed that he could stare into the deep gap under her shirt and see the soft curve of her under breasts.

He was amazed to see that in spite of her not too small size breasts, she needed no artificial support. He could see her hard, flat tummy. He saw that her stomach was extremely flat, almost like a block of cement. He could see the only crease in her body, at her waist, almost hiding her tiny indented belly button. And then the slight curve of her lower belly before it disappeared into the low cut hip band of her jogging shorts. Like the material of her shirt, it was semi-transparent, and in fact at time he could see the bright sunlight through the thin material, seeing parts of her body that really surprised him.

Now, the most exotic feature of her totally overwhelmed Bobby. As the hot sun blazed down on their heavily sweating bodies, even his flesh looked sexy. As the sun gleamed off the muscles that were tensing and relaxing. As his arms and legs worked that bike up the hill. Yet it was nothing compared to the body of Barbi. And why? Simple. Because this wonderful young woman was in fact a black woman. Not pure black, but her flesh was the color of dark coffee, with just a twinge of cream. And as each muscle of her body tensed, strove to move that bicycle along the narrow country road, the bright, burning sun gleamed off her flesh, highlighting it in such a manner that made her look as if she were made of polished mahogany. The special effect caused by her body being completely coated with a sheen of perspiration made her look like a Queen of the Nile.

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