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She was so hot. I just loved to look at her as she left her apartment. No matter when or for what reason she looked very sexy. She had the kind of body that just screamed ‘fuck me’. And that is what I wanted to do. She was kind of short but had those perfect legs that gave the illusion of going on forever. She had that long, thick hair that was just perfect to nuzzle in too.

I watched her every day, and I knew her habits. On weekday mornings she dressed in a short dress type suit. All stiff and business-like, the type that made men and women equal in the workplace. Later she would come home and change for jogging. She wore some tight sweat pants and amorphous shirts. Because she had some huge breasts she wore one of those tight jogging bras. Every day she came back all hot and sweaty making me really horny.

Some would say, “If you wanted her so much, why don’t you get her?” Well for sure I wanted to but she always seemed to have another guy. And did she go through them. She never had one for more than a few weeks, and I wanted to be more than that. That is why I watched and studied her for so long. I knew her ins and outs, including her favorite sex positions, via a telescope bought for the purpose. As a matter of fact I finally decided that I would confront her with my love as soon as I found out one last bit of information. I didn’t know her name. I vowed that when I got it, I would get her.

One day she did not follow the usually routine. She went out to work did not come home for her daily jog. I saw this as an excellent chance to figure out her name. I knew for sure that her name would be on her mail, which she usually picked up from her box before jogging. Inconspicuously I slipped down to the mail boxes. The apartment owner either was a trusting soul or cheap because the boxes did not have locks. Lucky for me! I glanced and saw no one around. I quickly popped open her box and scanned her letters. Finally I say what I had been waiting for. Among the letters to occupant I found one addressed to ‘Miss Betsy Bryant’. I am ready to make my move. I knew in my mind I was going to get this woman and I would start the next time I saw her.

About 4 o’clock the next day I saw Betsy getting her mail. I slipped out of the apartment and came up the road as if I was going to the apartments. I walked up to her and pretended to ask her the direction to a friend’s place. When she was about to answer I said,”Wait a minute? Aren’t you Betsey Byrant? Don’t you remember me? I’m Jim, from school.”

This had her thoroughly confused and I moved in for the kill. I rambled on about some made-up school career until she invited me to her place. I had never really seen her place except from the windows, and I was impressed. She had impeccable taste in decor that seems the mark of the successful woman.

After we got on the couch I admitted to really being her neighbor and used the school mate bit as a ploy to get in her apartment. Betsy was shocked and I was afraid that she would kick me out. Finally, at my urgings she cooled down, and admitted that she knew I was BSing her anyway. The she started spouting off info on me! She knew everything about me. Of course I was surprised. It turns out that she used the computer at work to find out about me when she noticed me spying on her.

“Well, I bet you don’t know my favorite sex position,” I finally said.

“I bet I can find out,” she said slyly.

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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 asshole 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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Unlike so many of the bawdy houses of Amsterdam, the building bore no signs. In fact, as I stood in front of the chipped, black door marked #12, I almost thought it was all a practical joke. What did I know was that Hazraj, the strange Turk who, in drunken friendliness at the hotel bar, had insisted, “A whore’s a whore all over the world. You don’t need to visit Amsterdam for that. But…the Anal Sex Circus! There is not another anywhere.”

I rang the bell. Was this really the place — or was he having a joke at the expense of a white British tourist? When the door slowly opened, I realized that he was indeed a friend! Stepping into the interior of the townhouse, it was a though I had stepped through tent flaps and into the most opulent carnival ever.

There was actual sawdust on the floor. The air smelled of beer and popcorn. The big main room had concession stands where they were selling popcorn — delicately laced with hashish - and white cotton candy, also drugged. Beer and liquor were being sold by men in straw hats, red vests, and white striped shirts.

Garish rotary lights whirled a dizzy array of greens and reds into the air. Semi-nude women — black, Asian, and white — escorted the various men as they ate, drank, and laughed uproariously. In different languages, a barker in a derby hat shouted at the back of the room, “Hurry, hurry. Step right up! Come, Come, Come to the Anal Sex Circus!”

If the mad Turk Hazraj had not been so explicit in his description of the place, I don’t know what my reaction to this bizarre spectacle might have been. A beautiful Eurasian girl glided up to me. I ordered a cafe pousse at the bar. In American money, it cost me about $20. I was going to order one more for my “hostess” but reconsidered: “You wouldn’t drink, would you? Just water one of these plants with it.” I slipped her $20 cash instead. “Let’s call it a contribution to the continuing survival of horticulture.”

She dutifully explained the “play” at the Anal Sex Circus. After I finished the drink, I walked back to the back of the room where a man, dressed in imitation of an American carnival barker, guarded the entrance to the upstairs rooms. I bought two tickets ($100 each) which entitled me to see two “shows” of my choice. The tickets were actually more like plastic credit cards.

With insane calliope music blaring down the corridors of this two-story townhouse turned madhouse, I made my way upstairs. In the old carnival midways, you’d walk along seeing the posters for the midgets and fire eaters and freaks. You’d pay to go into the tent to actually see them perform. Here, there were rooms. On each gold-curtained door was a picture of the girl within.

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Mary had been working for me for three weeks and she was driving me crazy. She’s a petite little thing with a fantastic figure and full, mouth-watering tits. Since I had hired Mary as my secretary all I could think about was fucking her in that perfect little ass.

Maybe if Mary didn’t wear those damn tight jeans that push right into the crack of her ass, I would have been okay, but as things stood, all I could think about was that ass.

Both sides of her chubby little lips were fully defined by the clothing she wore and I wondered if they gave her a kind of sexual push. Everything about Mary spelled sex. Just 20 and with her blonde mass of curls and big brown eyes, it seemed that a kind of sensual steam flowed from every part of her.

I was always threatening to jump on that cute ass. She would wiggle it playfully then laugh her way out of the office. All in good fun, until the night we had to push hard to get a rush order out.

Mary and I were alone. I had always made it a rule to never fuck around with my help. I had kept to that rule all my life, but for some reason Mary tempted me to break it.

There was so much paperwork that we had to do some of it on the floor. I found myself just standing there, watching her little ass sway back and forth as she crawled around on the floor. That ass was so cute and sexy that I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

I guess the animal in me took over then, because I don’t even remember getting down on the floor. Fully clothed I wrapped my arms around her and slipped my fingers into the crotch of her jeans. Mary dropped the papers she was holding and I felt her warm ass rolling against my huge boner.

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