Film Festival

It was truly one of those lust at first sight scenarios. As I read those words, it doesn't do it justice - it sounds sleasy, or cheap - but really, it's the best way to describe what happened. We come from completely different walks of life, and pursuing an actual relationship was out of the question, but, it seemed, we couldn't keep our hands off each other.

I'm a grad student in English Lit, 23 years old, and met him while indulging what had up until then been a solitary pastime of mine - volunteering at the local independent cinema. My friends from school were happy to join me for a beer after seminars, or put together study groups, but somehow even just the mention of art films gave them a pressing prior engagement. But it had always been a love of mine - spending time at the small theater and watching whatever happened to be showing, whether a foreign film with subtitles or a documentary about global warming that would only months later win a politician an Oscar.

He was, I found out after spotting him a few times and finally having to ask around, one of the theater's board members. Made sense - he didn't seem like the scruffy intellectual type who was the stereotypical indie film buff. His role was clearly that of the philanthropist, the well-off, confident businessman who for some inexplicable reason had chosen this place as the beneficiary of some of his time and money.

It was his confidence which first caused me to notice him - the way he commanded whatever space he entered. He was probably in his mid-40s, about 6'2" with an athletic build, distinguished with graying hair, but also still a youthful look out of his blue eyes, and always just the right amount of stubble on his face to turn me on.

The opportunity finally arose for us to be introduced, at the opening night gala for the annual film festival. I was volunteering in exchange for tickets, and he was there along with all of the other board members, each of them pitching in on some task, from taking tickets to announcing the array of films, with many of the directors in attendance to speak and answer questions about their work.

"Kristen," said the kindly manager, Helen, "could you come here for a moment, I'd like for you to meet Jim, one of our board members."

I walked across the room with a smile, my hand outstretched, trying to stop from blushing as I felt his eyes confidently take in my form. He was one of those men who could make it clear he was checking you out while somehow not making you feel uncomfortable. His handshake was firm but warm, and as he looked into my eyes, I could tell the attraction was mutual.

"Nice to finally meet you, Kristen. I've watched you working hard around here. Thanks for all that you do!"

Several patrons joined us, mingling and chatting as we waited for the curtain to go up on the first film of the festival. Jim and I had obvious chemistry, taking every reasonable opportunity to touch, constantly catching each other in an obvious glance as we talked with someone else. But I wasn't about to make the first move. It was a fun flirtation, that was all. Or so I told myself.

"Shall we?" he asked, motioning for me to go through the door from the lobby into the theater in front of him.

"We? Aren't you here with someone?" I asked coyly.

"No, and I'd be honored if you join me."

And so I did, following him to his seat and enjoying the fine film with him in the midst of a packed theater. We had a few awkward moments, our hands accidentally meeting on the armrest between our seats, our feet touching occasionally as I crossed my legs, our shoulders lingering together as he leaned towards me in an attempt to see around the rather large hairdo in front of him. But it was an innocent enough evening.

"Perhaps I'll see you again later this week?" he asked as he retrieved his leather jacket from the coat check and headed for the door.

"I'm sure you will, I'm signed up to help every night of the festival!"

With a wink, he zipped his jacket and stepped out into the darkness of the late evening. I worked for another hour or so, helping to clean the lobby and retrieve extra programs from the theater, before heading back to my apartment, already planning what to wear the next night. What? Well, even if I wasn't about to make the first move, that was no reason not to be inviting in case he intended to!

Luckily, the late spring weather cooperated with my plan to wear my most flattering blue and white sundress, with a small matching sweater to cover my bare shoulders. I wore my red wavy hair down that evening, and it cascaded just past my shoulders, bouncing as I walked. The dress brought out the color of my big blue eyes, and fit every curve perfectly while remaining quite decent for a night out at the festival. I went braless, the dress cupping my 34C tits perfectly on its own.

As always, I was one of the first people in the theater, helping to get things rolling before the audience arrived. But that night in particular, attendance seemed light. Funny, I thought to myself, how many people would come out just to be seen at the opening gala, and how many fewer people actually cared to come back later in the week to watch other films. I realized that Jim hadn't specifically said he'd be back that particular evening, and began to feel silly for worrying so much about my appearance.

But just before the movie was about to start, there he was. I looked up from a box of programs just in time to catch him looking at me as he greeted a few other filmgoers. After peeling himself away from that conversation, he walked across the lobby to me, and we began to chat.

Again, our magnetism was obvious, and by the time we had finished chatting about everything from sports to the weather to bad attendance for films with subtitles, we realized we were alone in the lobby, the film having started and everyone already in their seats.

"Oops!" he said with a laugh. Then, a mock-serious look on his face, "follow me."

We walked up the stairs to the balcony, where I quickly saw we'd be alone, and found two seats in the front row. The balcony in this old theater was an odd one - quite small, with just a few dozen seats, and steep enough that many people didn't feel comfortable making their way around. I rarely sat there myself, in fact. But the view of the screen was really quite good.

Almost as soon as we sat down, Jim put his arm around the back of my seat, his fingers touching the edge of the seat next to mine. It was a clear yet subtle move, as he had yet to actually touch me, but was clearly opening that door. I responded immediately, relaxing deeper into my seat, hoping to make it clear that I was encouraging his advances.

"So, you don't mind?" he whispered into my ear, his hand now cupping my shoulder.

"No, not at all, be my guest," I whispered back, leaning into him.

His mouth lingered near my ear, but he said nothing else for a moment, simply watching my reaction as his warm breath hit my skin. When I didn't object, he boldly licked my ear, briefly taking my earlobe between his teeth and nibbling slightly. I couldn't help but sigh at his expert touch, and he was once again encouraged.

"Would you like more, Kristen?"

"Mmmm," was all I responded, placing my hand on his thigh. He proceeded again, his hand now slipping from my shoulder down to my chest, where he began fondling my breast through the fabric of my dress.

If he hadn't already taken risks, he did now. "Hmm, no bra? What kind of slut must you be?"

He couldn't have known how I would react - I might have slapped him and walked away - but somehow his use of the word turned me on even more. I turned my head towards him and hissed back, "the kind of slut who was hoping you might make a move on me tonight?"

He smiled and kissed me passionately, forcing his tongue deep into my mouth as our lips locked together. Pulling away once more, he continued with his provocative whisper, "How far are you willing to go, right here, right now, a few dozen people sitting in those seats below us?"

Yikes, I had forgotten my surroundings. My body froze for a moment as several thoughts flooded through my mind. This was already the hottest encounter I'd ever experienced, this hot older guy seducing me in the dark of the theater. The thrill of getting caught turned me on like crazy, but I really, really didn't want to actually get caught, especially by one of the sweet older women who volunteered as ushers. And then, watching for a moment the serious documentary on the screen, I remembered the 'Seinfeld' episode where Jerry made out instead of watching 'Schindler's List'.

Stop, I told myself. I knew this theater. Alone on the balcony, we'd have at least some warning before anyone caught us. What the hell. I relaxed, letting my weight fall against his once more. I was now more aware of the sounds of other people in the theater, and the thrill of public sex was real. He whispered once more.

"Sit on the edge of your seat and spread your legs for me, Kristen."

I did as I was told, closing my eyes and waiting to feel what he would do next. I could feel him sitting up in his seat as he found the hem of my dress with his fingers. Soon I could feel my legs exposed as he hiked up the dress, and I opened my eyes to watch as he began rubbing my clit through my panties. They were soaked with my juices already, and it was all I could do to stay quiet as he began pleasuring me with his fingers.

My hand found his bulge and I began squeezing and massaging his growing cock through his slacks, his fingers now working their way under my panties, shoving them aside. Just as I began to find a rhythm as I stroked him, he pulled away, climbing out of his seat and down to his knees in front of me. I spread my legs further to give him more room, and tried to smooth out my dress over his head, just on the off-chance someone entered the balcony and he had to remain hiding there.

That was the last of my coherent thoughts as his tongue reached my clit. He began a series of long, slow strokes from my clit down across my pussy lips, before his fingers began simultaneously probing my pussy. I gripped the armrests of my seat and pressed my toes into the floor, my body aching with the desire to cry out as he brought me to higher and higher levels of pleasure.

He gradually increased the pace and depth of his finger-fucking, and likewise the intensity of his sucking on my clit, until I finally couldn't hold back any longer and came, my juices covering his fingers as I bit my tongue to keep from screaming. He quietly climbed back into his seat, forced his fingers into my mouth for me to taste my own juices, and then pulled them away just as quickly, kissing me once again.

No words were necessary, I knew what he wanted next and I wanted nothing more than to return the pleasure he had just given me. Just as he had moments before, I now climbed out of my seat and got down on my knees between his legs. He unzipped his slacks and whipped out his already-hard cock, grabbed me by the hair, and pressed me down onto him until his entire length was buried in my throat.

He held me there for several moments, and I could feel his cock twitching as I cupped his balls and began massaging them. He then released his grip on my hair, and I took the signal to begin moving up and down on him. Once again, I noticed the sounds of the other people in the theater - the occasional cough or whisper, footsteps as someone left or returned to their seat - and was once again overwhelmed with excitement to be engaged in such naughty behavior.

I continued sucking, my tongue exploring the bottom of his shaft with each stroke, and my hands alternating between playing with his balls and jacking him off. His fingers, gently this time, weaved their way into my hair and encouraged my motions for a few more moments before he pulled me away. I put my elbows on his thighs and looked into his eyes, whispering, "what now?"

"You're going to make me cum, Kristen. So the question is, where do you want me to cum? It's up to you..."

Silently, I mouthed my response, "In my tight little pussy..."

I stood up, turned around so that I was facing away from him, and slowly hiked up my dress. He grabbed my ass cheeks in his hands and massaged them, once again pushing my panties aside, before gradually lowering me down onto his rock-hard cock. I sighed deeply as he filled me, and remained still for a moment once he was completely inside of me. Slowly and steadily, I began moving up and down on him, faster and faster, his hands reaching around to grab my tits as they bounced with each stroke.

Faster and harder now, I rode him, changing the angle now and then by shifting my legs on his, until he placed his hands on my shoulders and once again slowed my motions down to nothing. He whispered in my ear once more, his voice now so familiar. "Trust me?"

"Yes," I hissed back.

"Then stand up, put your hands on the railing, and spread your legs wide for me."

I understood now why he asked about trust. He was suggesting a position from which we'd be much more obvious, should anyone enter the balcony from behind us, or look up towards us from the floor below. But I did trust, and more importantly, I did want him to fuck me from behind until we both came.

I followed his directions, and he immediately positioned himself behind me and thrust into me in one smooth stroke. Once inside me, he placed his hands on the railing alongside mine and began fucking me furiously. I looked down for a moment and saw the dozens of people below us, eagerly watching the screen, but sure to look up if they heard an odd noise. As he pounded into me, I bit my tongue once again to avoid crying out.

It was only a few moments more before we both reached the pinnacle of pleasure. I came first, watching the people below us as I felt my pussy throb, my juices flow, and wave after wave of feeling rush through my body. My orgasm seemed to lead to his, as I felt his cum shoot deep into me just as I was coming down from the heights of my pleasure. We remained in that position for a few moments more, Jim placing a few delicate kisses on my neck as his cock remained buried inside me.

We did our best to make ourselves presentable as the final credits rolled on the big screen, although we still smelled of sex. We agreed to make separate exits from the balcony, just in case anyone was paying attention, but only after agreeing to enjoy the next four nights of the film festival from the same seats.

Pretty Woman

It all happened pretty naturally, really. I was an attractive, confident female graduate of the academy, one of just six women out of a class of 40, and the only one of those six who could convincingly pull off posing as a hooker. No offense to the other women - let's just say it was obvious that many of them played for the other team. Anyway, I was quickly selected to join the vice squad, and given the task of putting on a different disguise each shift and walking the streets as a decoy to pull in johns.

At first, I was all business, just seeing it as a chance to prove my professionalism and work towards a promotion, so I could be doing the work I was really passionate about. My goal was to work my way up to the rank of detective, so I could work on really important cases, getting bank robbers and murderers off the streets. If my perfect body and my willingness to pose as a member of the oldest profession was my ticket to get there, so be it.

I should probably take a moment to share a bit more detail about what my work entailed. I was never actually at risk of following through on the act in question with the guys who picked me up. My job was to look the part, walk the street, reel the guys in, and then signal my backup as soon as the john had offered me money for sex.

I showed up to work late each afternoon, dressed in whatever jeans and t-shirt I had thrown on at home, and selected an appropriate wardrobe from the strange assortment of slutty outfits we'd put together at the station. Some days it would be red leather, some days black, sometimes I'd go with the red wig, other times blonde. The key was that I look as inviting as possible, while disguising my actual identity.

Beyond the clothes, wigs, and makeup, though, it didn't take much for me to look the part. At 22, I was in perfect shape - well-proportioned at 5'7" and 120 pounds, nice perky tits, long legs, and a great ass - so my boyfriend always told me, anyway. I had lived a fairly straight-laced life up to this point, so I have to admit I was a little shocked each time I looked in the mirror when I was dressed for the street.

The first few times I went out, I was a little scared, but any feelings of worry quickly wore off as I got used to the routine of signalling for the arrest. Strange as it may sound, it actually got a little dull, as I never did more than just hop in a stranger's car, talk for a few seconds, and then get back out once the backup car's siren went off.

The most enjoyable part of the task for me was choosing the slutty outfit and strutting up and down the street corner, as it was a unique experience for me to act in a such a blatantly sexual way. In fact, before long, this part of the job started to turn me on. Even though it was all an act, and I was being paid to catch these poor suckers, rather than to fuck them, I couldn't help enjoying all the attention as they drove by, honking and hollering at my hot body.

And soon, I found myself quite frustrated, shocked at the realization that at least a small, dirty part of me wanted to follow through on one of these transactions. It was when I started fantasizing about it, imagining a stranger paying me for sex as my boyfriend fucked me to orgasm, that I realized I owed it to myself to live out this fantasy, at least once.

Knowing everyone in vice in this town, I knew I'd need to go elsewhere - the risk of being caught by a colleague was just too great. I quickly decided on Vegas, figuring I could make a quick trip some weekend when my boyfriend was going out of town for business, and catching a little of the 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas' action without anyone finding out.

Three weeks after I'd made this decision, the opportunity finally presented itself. In the meantime, I'd made a trip to one of the local adult shops, picking out my outfit for the trip - a black leather bustier and mini skirt, matching knee-high boots, and crotchless fishnet tights. I was so turned on by shopping for the clothes that I fingered myself to a breathless orgasm in the dressing room as I tried them on.

I packed my bag, which contained little more than that outfit and a fresh supply of condoms, and hopped the quick flight, checking into the hotel I'd chosen near a likely street corner. I'd done my research in advance, thinking the safest bet would be to target a convention crowd - straight-laced guys interested in a fun time away from the wife or girlfriend - rather than a seedier part of town where I might risk running into a psycho.

I hung out in my hotel room for a few hours, waiting for dusk to arrive, but also gathering up my courage. As excited as I'd been about this scenario for the past several weeks, I was suddenly nervous once it was actually within sight. I showered, played with my long brown hair for a while before finally settling on two youthful pigtails, and then slipped into my skin-tight leather outfit.

I was only on the street for a few minutes before the first car pulled over, and I chickened out, pretending to ignore the driver's advances as if I dressed like this every night and was on my way somewhere. A few more cars slowed as they passed me, and finally I took a deep breath and decided to respond to the next guy who pulled over.

It was a silver sedan, a rental car, I noticed, thinking that to be a good sign, clearly someone in town for business. The driver pulled around the corner to a side street before stopping, so that I had to walk several steps to catch up with him before leaning down to look at him through the passenger window he'd opened. I was pleased with what I saw, a handsome and well-dressed man of about 40 with a kind face. This was my chance, no backing out now.

"Hey, honey, looking for a good time?"

"Sure, baby," the stranger replied to my breasts, "why don't you come in out of the cold."

"Just one thing before I get in," I said coyly, "you're not a cop, are you?"

"Nope, just a regular guy in town for a conference, looking for a little fun after a boring day of meetings! What about you," he said with a chuckle, "you're not undercover, are you?"

I felt myself blush, but quickly pulled myself together and got into the car next to him. I couldn't believe the rush, the dialogue no longer just a script I'd been trained to follow.

"Are you kidding, with a body like this?" I spread my legs in the seat next to him, and his eyes followed my hands as they traced their way up my thighs. I was pretending to do my hooker act, but in fact I was so turned on that I couldn't keep my hands off myself.

"So, what's your name?" I asked him.

"Richard, what's yours?"

"You can call me Danielle," I replied, surprised at myself but even more turned on after giving him my real name. "So, what would you like?"

"What do you do?"

"Anything you can afford."

He leaned over and whispered a naughty scenario in my ear, and I blushed once again.

"Hmm, no problem, if you've got 200 bucks. I assume your hotel is nearby?"

He responded by sitting back behind the wheel and making a quick turn at the next intersection, going around the block, just as I'd feared, to pull into the garage of the same hotel where I was staying. Oh well, it would make for an easy return "home" once my job was complete! Just before we entered the parking garage, I heard the familiar "whoop" of a police siren, and had to grit my teeth to keep from jumping out of my skin. A quick glance in the side mirror confirmed that it was a speeding motorist, not a naughty out-of-town vice cop, that they were after. Whew.

As soon as we were in his room, he pulled two crisp hundreds out of his wallet and put them on the table by the door. I could have jumped him right then, excited as I was at the naughty prospect of being paid for sex, but reminded myself that I had been hired for a job, and he'd been quite specific about his desires.

I went to the wardrobe and pulled out the silk ties he'd told me would be there, as he quickly stripped naked. He laid down on the bed, and I climbed on top of him, slowly tying each of his hands to the headboard.

Once his hands were tied, I stood back up and began a slow, sexy strip, peeling out of the tight, hot leather, but leaving on the boots and fishnets, just as he'd instructed. I watched his cock harden as he watched me, and felt the juices already flowing from my pussy. I couldn't wait any longer, and climbed onto the bed, taking his cock first into my hands and then into my mouth.

He moaned in pleasure as I slowly engulfed his length, and then began bobbing up and down on him as my fingers tickled his balls. I was just able to manage his length and girth, taking him completely into my throat with each stroke. I sucked him off for a few more minutes, before he pushed me away, wanting to move on to his next desire before he shot his load.

I stood up on the bed, giving him a great view up my long, sexy legs to my wet pussy. Unzipping one of my boots just a bit, I fished out one of the condoms I had packed for my trip. Kneeling back down above him, ripped the package open with my teeth and stroked his cock as I slid the condom on.

With his cock jutting upward from his body and his hands still tied, I began touching myself as he had instructed, while he watched, helpless to do anything but watch the excitement build. I began by playing with my tits, fondling them in my hands and pressing each nipple upwards to meet my outstretched tongue.

Soon, I couldn't help but let my hands fall to my pussy. Two fingers explored my clit while three fingers of the other hand easily slid deep into my wet hole. I kept my eyes fixed on his as I began to furiously finger-fuck myself, approaching orgasm so quickly that I could hardly believe it. The room was soon filled with the smell of my juices as my fingers slid in and out, and I cried out in pleasure.

Before he had a chance to complain about being left out, I pulled my hands away and pressed down onto his waiting cock. The feeling of fullness was fabulous, and I began riding him fast and hard. As I fucked him, I reached up and untied his hands. As soon as he was free, he rolled us over and began fucking me from behind, doggy style.

He asked me to talk dirty, and I easily obliged, feeling quite dirty.

"Yes, that's it, fuck me like the whore I am, ride my tight pussy! You know I want it, so give it to me!"

"Yes, that's it, yes!" He moaned as he pounded into me, letting his weight fall into mine so that his torso pressed against my back. "More, give me more!"

"I'm about to cum, if that cock of yours just keeps pounding into me, I'm going to cum, I want to cover your cock with my slutty juices!"

"Oh, god, yes! Unghhh...."

He collapsed to the bed next to me, just as my pleasure was still flowing. I couldn't believe the power of my orgasm, and fingered my clit as I rode it out, my pussy literally dripping with my cum. He peeled off the condom and stroked his cock gently as he watched me, clearly enjoying the show.

Satisfied as I was, I had to remind myself that I was pretending to be a professional. This wasn't a date where we'd stay and cuddle. He was expecting me to collect my cash and leave, and I had a hotel room of my own to get back to - just a few floors away. I said my goodbyes, grabbed my clothes and my cash, and rode the elevator back to my room. The story didn't actually end there - let's just say, I took a long, long hot shower, pleasuring myself as I remembered the events of the evening.

The Estate

It had been two months since I moved back, and I still didn't feel any more at home. I had lived on the estate several years ago, but that was when my grandfather and uncle were still alive, when we still had live-in servants, when I was still a teenager. It was different now, with the reality of adulthood coming a little too quickly, the mansion and grounds now a lonely responsibility.

Most people would describe my family as wealthy, but to me, it was all I had ever known. And even though it might be easy for strangers to be jealous, those who knew me well knew that I'd been through some hardships. My parents were killed in a car crash when I was young, so I'd moved from the city, from the comfort of my neighborhood, my school, my friends, out to the family's country estate, where I finished out my teenage years before going to college.

My uncle Bob, my mom's brother, took over raising me, giving me all the love and attention I'd experienced at home with my folks, but this time on an estate with a staff ready to serve every whim. They were really more like family, though, as Bob worked hard to instill in me a respect for everyone who worked for us. With virtually limitless resources and high test scores, I'd easily gotten into the ivy league school of my choice, and left this place four years ago, half thinking that I'd never come back. But here I was.

Uncle Bob passed away unexpectedly during my senior year, and left everything to me, as his only living relative. It was a remarkable gift for a young woman to inherit all this wealth, but also a tremendous burden, as I had to put on hold the plans I'd made in my last few years of school, and return home to take care of the estate. The staff I'd grown up with had moved on, either retiring or finding other work once Bob was gone, so I was faced with living in the mansion alone. Until I decided whether to stay or sell, I was bringing in strangers to handle the enormous upkeep - tending to the grounds, cleaning the pool, cooking and cleaning...

It was in this context, lonely and overwhelmed, that Jack paid me a visit. He had been the family's lawyer for the past 15 years, and had watched me grow up as he took care of their various business ventures. He was probably in his early-mid 40s now, young as he was when he first came to work for us, and he'd been a part of my life for so long, I thought of him as a family friend more than as somebody's lawyer. And as that trusted friend, he was one of the few other people who had a key to the gate.

That explains how he suddenly appeared on the pool deck, watching me as I swam a lap. The pool was truly glorious, big and blue, fitting into the surrounding slope of green, manicured lawns. Swimming had become a daily ritual for me since returning to the estate. I swam to collect my thoughts, to relax as the warm water played against my skin.

I didn't think about just how skimpy my bikini was as I stepped out of the water. Didn't think about it, that is, until I felt Jack's eyes moving over my body. The black top barely contained my 34C breasts, and the tight bottoms accentuated my perfect ass and long legs. Smiling to myself, I simply wrapped a towel around waist, wringing the water out of my long red hair and tossing it over my shoulder, where it slapped against the warm skin of my back.

"Hi, Jack. What can I do for you today?"

"Um, hi, Trish." My real name - a family name - is Patricia, but everyone calls me Trish. "I just wanted to come by and see how you're doing. Frankly, I'm worried about you here all by yourself."

"Hey, I'll be OK. I'm still just trying to decide what to do - sell the place or keep it, and if I do keep it, do I stay here or live somewhere else, just keeping it as an investment. It's a lot of choices to make, especially since I didn't think I'd have to deal with any of this anytime soon."

"I know, it's still tough to accept that Bob's gone." His voice grew quiet, and I realized that not only had I lost an uncle, Jack had lost one of his closest friends.

"But hey," I replied, trying to lighten the mood, "you've given me lots of great advice already, and I think I'm getting closer to a decision. So don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Well, OK, but I still think it's terrible you're here all by yourself. Won't you at least let me come by sometime and make you a nice dinner?"

I was honored but embarrassed that he still felt the need to work for our family. "It is tempting, but no, I can't ask you to do that."

As my eyes met his, I realized I was misjudging his motives. I could tell by the look in his eye that he genuinely wanted to have dinner with me. And then, suddenly, I felt awkward, and felt myself blush. Here I was, a hot young woman wearing just a towel, suddenly grasping that despite all we'd been through, this man was attracted to me.

He responded quickly, obviously trying to diffuse the awkwardness. "Hey, no big deal, why don't you invite a few friends over as well, and we'll make a small party of it?"

"Sure, sounds like a nice idea. I do have some old friends I've been meaning to catch up with now that I'm back. Why don't we say Saturday, that should give me a few days to line things up?"

"Great, I'll see you then. Why don't you just pull a few bottles out of the wine cellar, and I'll handle the rest!"

It wasn't until I was back in the water that I cooled off. Jeez, what was I thinking - I'd never found myself attracted to Jack before, never noticed if he did or didn't notice me in the past - but now he was all I could think about. How inappropriate was that? I chalked it up to all the emotional turmoil I'd been through in the past months, and moved on to calling a few old friends to invite them over for a quiet dinner at the estate.

It ended up being a gorgeous day, that Saturday, and I called my friends back, suggesting that under the sunny circumstances, they were welcome to bring their swimsuits. Heidi and Karen were the two I'd been able to reach who were in town and delighted to accept the invitation - we'd gone to high school together, but scattered to different colleges, so it was a reunion of sorts for us, catching up after a few years apart.

While Jack slaved away in the kitchen - well, for all I know, he'd brought in take-out and just pretended to cook - we lounged by the pool, catching up on each other's life stories, soaking up some early summer rays, and taking the occasional dip in the water. We made quite a trio - Heidi, the blonde, in a red one-piece; Karen, a brunette, in a bikini that matched her big beautiful green eyes; and I was wearing a suit of sky-blue, a light color that made even my fair, freckled skin look as though it had a bit of color.

Before long, Jack joined us, bringing out a tray of margaritas and making himself comfortable on one of the deck chairs, watching as we all dove into the water, deliberately splashing each other as we did. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Jack pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside. The thoughts I'd been trying to ignore or push away suddenly flooded back as I admired just how fit and tan he was.

Heidi looked in his direction and asked, "So, don't you want to join us? The water is nice and cool!"

"Well, I'd love to, Heidi, but I didn't get the memo about bringing swimsuits, and I don't want to spend the rest of the evening in soggy pants! I'll just watch from here."

Karen, who always did enjoy trying to shock me, replied promptly, "That's OK Jack, I'm sure Trish wouldn't mind a little skinny-dipping in her pool?"

I shot her a glance, meaning to make her knock it off, but revealing instead that I had blushed at the comment. She responded by taking things up a notch.

"Here, I'll get things started," she said, looking back at Jack as she tugged at the strings of her bikini top, tossing it aside and allowing her breasts to pop free and float on the water level. She always was remarkably comfortable with her body, I remembered now.

I plunged beneath the water, holding my breath as long as I could, hoping that the humiliation would be over soon, but also half-hoping that Jack would take her up on the offer.

I emerged, gasping, just in time to watch Jack stand up and pull down his pants, followed quickly by his boxers, and he now stood before us on the pool deck, completely naked. I couldn't help but admire his big strong body, and couldn't tear my eyes away from his semi-hard cock as it dangled between his legs. His eyes caught mine and he smiled, and then quickly dove in, joining us in the water.

He swam to the shallow end of the pool and sat on the steps there as the three of us surrounded him. Karen continued to be the boldest, taking his cock in her hands underwater as he began fondling her tits. Heidi and I watched, still shocked at what was happening, but quickly getting turned on and wanting to join in the fun.

I swam closer to Heidi and pulled in close, and we began running our hands over each other's bodies, first over our suits and then gradually peeling each other free of them. I had never touched another woman like this before, much less one of my best friends, but I found the whole scene so erotic, I couldn't help myself.

Jack was encouraging Karen, urging her on, telling her exactly how to fondle his balls, and she was moaning now as his hand had slid between her bikini and her skin and his fingers reached her clit. Heidi and I were watching the action as much as we could, considering that we were locked in a tight embrace, nipples grinding together, fingers finding spots of pleasure above and below the water line.

Jack gradually began to pull himself up the steps and out of the water, sitting now on the edge of the pool as Karen took his cock in her mouth and began bobbing up and down on his long, hard shaft. Heidi and I swam over to join them, taking turns pleasuring each of them, fingering his balls, probing Karen's exposed pussy, as everyone's excitement rose.

After a few glorious minutes of this orgy, our moans beginning to drown out the splash of the water, we climbed out of the pool to continue things on dry land. Jack sat on one chair, and I claimed the one next to him, as Karen lowered herself onto his cock and Heidi straddled me. As Karen cried out at the feeling of fullness and began to ride him furiously, Heidi and I watched, grinding our clits together. I was quickly overwhelmed and came in just a few minutes, shockingly turned on by the feel of another woman grinding on me as I watched one of my best friends fuck Jack.

But I wanted my turn as well. I was eager to feel his thick hard cock buried in my tight little pussy, to be the one turning on my friends as I fucked right in front of them. When Karen cried out in pleasure, I knew I would soon have my turn. Just as soon as she had climbed off of him, I quickly replaced her, straddling Jack and burying his cock inside of me in one fast, smooth motion.

Heidi whimpered when I left her alone on the chair, but Karen soon joined her, kneeling between her legs and licking her wet pussy lips as I began to fuck Jack with more abandon. Our skin slapped together as I pounded up and down on his shaft, and Heidi giggled with pleasure as she watched and felt Karen's fingers begin to probe her pussy.

The pleasure building inside of me, I stopped moving up and down and began rocking my hips back and forth, Jack's cock buried deep in my pussy. After enjoying these new sensations for a few moments, he took the opportunity to change our position. We both stood up, walked close to the other chair, where Karen was still going down on Heidi, and Jack spun me around.

I bent over, my hair and my tits in Heidi's face, and spread my legs just in time for Jack to pound into me from behind. I thanked my uncle for investing in so many acres as I screamed out in pleasure. Karen now stood up and straddled Heidi, allowing them to grind together as Heidi and I had before, as they both watched Jack fuck me furiously.

I felt a powerful orgasm grow from deep inside, and was helpless even to remain standing, having to rely on my friends to keep me upright as I rode out wave after wave of pleasure. My clenching pussy pushed Jack over the edge as well, and he pulled out of me just in time to cum all over Heidi and Karen's waiting tits. They continued to push each other towards orgasm, grinding together and fingering each other furiously until they both climaxed as I collapsed in the chair next to them, panting.

With a mock frown, Jack said to me, "Too bad about the margaritas, it looks like the ice melted."

"Don't worry," I replied. "There's some nice wine waiting for us inside. But more importantly, you've just convinced me to keep the estate after all!"

Whoreticulture

I was new in town, a 22-year-old professional fresh out of college and recently relocated with no connections other than my Facebook friends, who were all over 1,000 miles away. My new job was great, and I had a fabulous condo overlooking the water, but I was still finding myself alone and unfulfilled. And it's not like I didn't have opportunities to go out - there were lots of evenings out after work, having drinks with colleagues, or the company box at the baseball games, but it still wasn't enough.

Over the Sunday paper at my favorite local coffee house, I mapped out some activities for the next week that would get me out, cirulating with a different crowd. On Tuesday, I found myself at a benefit concert for the university hospital. Thursday, it was a neighborhood council meeting. And Friday, I met Jeff at a horticultural lecture at the Washington Arboretum. I wasn't particularly interested in the lecture, I had to admit, but I thought it might be a nice chance to meet a different type of person, perhaps a bit more cultured crowd.

Jeff was, I guessed, in his late 40's, with an athletic build, dashing good looks, and an impressive wardrobe to match. He was there alone, but seemed to know all of the important people, as he mingled effortlessly, chatting up the room. Very clearly, he was gay. But I still found myself sucked in by his charm, and we found ourselves talking for at least an hour over the open bar, until we were finally, politely, asked to leave.

"So, Emily," he said as we walked through the dark parking lot to our cars, "I take it horticulture isn't your passion?"

"Well, frankly, Jeff, I haven't found my passion yet! I just know that I'm interested in experiencing more of the city's cultural offerings?"

"I'd be happy to help. You know, I'm a season ticket holder for both the symphony and the ballet, and I'm always looking for new friends to accompany me!"

"I would love that. Here's my number, please feel free to give me a call the next time you have a free ticket!"

It was less than a week later that I heard from him, and our first 'date' was a string quartet recital. I was excited, but just as uninformed as I had been when it came to the horticultural lecture - classical music was just as much Greek to me! But Jeff was great - patient in explaining to me everything from concert hall etiquette to interesting tidbits about the composers' biographies. It was a wonderful evening, free of the stress of an actual date, with no sexual tension to get in the way of enjoying a beautiful night out.

A few weeks later, we spent an evening at the ballet. By this point, we'd had some nice phone conversations, met for coffee a few times (it turned out that he worked not far from my office) and I was beginning to value him not just as my own personal cultural mentor, but as my first real friend in town.

I told a few of my old college friends about him over e-mail, and was met with the expected "all the great ones are either gay or taken, huh?" to which I could only respond in the affirmative. But I truly didn't think of him in those terms - not that he wasn't attractive, as he certainly was. In fact, I often blushed when I felt his eyes move over my body when he picked me up for an evening out - before reminding myself that gay guys are often fashion buffs, and he was probably just admiring my little black dress.

Anyway, enough of that. After a few more nights out on the highbrow town, he invited me over to his place for dinner and some music - turned out he was secretly a fine cellist, though he didn't advertise the fact until he felt truly comfortable with someone. I was honored that he had decided to extend the invitation, and didn't hesitate to accept. Even though it would just be the two of us, I dressed up, not wanting to let him down, and bought a nice bottle of wine on my way over.

I waited for just a moment outside his door before he answered my knock, and was greeted with the usual complement of my appearance, his deep blue eyes taking in my blonde hair done up in a fancy up-do, my fitted black knit dress clinging to my curves, a colorful silk scarf draped over my shoulders.

"Wow, don't you look great, Emily!"

"Thanks, Jeff! And wow, it smells wonderful in here, what have you cooked for us?"

"Ah, that's a surprise. For now, please just make yourself at home. Can I pour you a glass of wine - that's a wonderful vintage you picked out, by the way!"

"Sure," I said, sitting down on his sofa as he disappeared into the kitchen. Everything about his home fit what I already knew of his personality. Clean and organized, but also full of interesting artwork, meticulously tended plants, shelves bursting with books. And then there was his cello, sitting on its side on the floor, next to a chair and a music stand overwhelmed with sheet music.

He returned, handed me a glass of wine, and without a word, sat down on that chair, picked up that cello, and began to play. I was immediately taken in, partly because the music was beautiful, but mostly by watching him play, his long limbs wrapped around the instrument, his legs moving with it with each phrase, his arm coaxing the sound out as he stroked it with the bow.

His words broke the silence, before I realized I had lost myself in the moment. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Oh, um, yes, Jeff! I'm sorry, I got a little lost there, the music was so beautiful!"

"You did look like you went into another world there for a minute, what were you thinking?"

"Well, frankly, I had no idea the playing the cello was so sensual. Um..."

"No, don't be bashful, you're absolutely right. Here, would you like to try it?"

"Oh, no, I would sound terrible - I've never played an instrument before!"

"No, I insist. It's worth experiencing the feeling, if only just once."

Not wanting to offend, I decided to go along with the idea, even though I was afraid I would elicit a sound more like strangling cats than like the Mozart piece he had shared with me earlier. He showed me how to sit in the chair, how to position the big instrument between my legs, my dress sliding up my thighs as I did so, and how to hold the bow and pull it across the string.

The first sound was actually worse than strangling cats, but he soon came to my rescue, standing behind me and taking my hand in his to show me how to guide the bow more gently, resulting in a sound somewhat resembling a musical note. I looked up at him and smiled, delighted at my small accomplishment, and blushed as his eyes locked on mine.

"So, Emily, are there any other feelings you'd like to experience tonight?"

"Um, I'm not sure I know what you mean?"

"You must think I'm too old for you, is that it?"

"Uh, you've lost me, Jeff. I mean, aren't you..." I was confused, still convinced he was gay, but suddenly shy about saying it aloud. And his eyes, still looking deep into mine, betrayed a desire most certainly not platonic.

He didn't answer, instead taking the bow from my hand and placing it gently on the coffee table. His hands now rested on my shoulders, rubbing first gently, then with some firmness, and I arched my back and allowed my head to fall back against his stomach. The cello still rested between my legs, forcing them apart and leaving my dress high up on my thighs. I wasn't sure where this was going, but I decided to play along.

Before I knew what he was doing, Jeff had loosened the clip from my hair so that my carefully designed up-do cascaded down around my shoulders. His firm hands now moved down to my breasts, cupping them through the fabric of my dress and massaging them gently. I sighed in response, and he continued, stopping only to take hold of the cello and set it aside.

I took the opportunity to stand up from the chair, although I kept my back to him, loving the feel of having his hands envelop my body just as they had the cello. He bent down and licked my earlobe, gradually tracing down my neck, as his hands were busy untying the fabric knot at the back of my neck. Once loosened, his hands easily found their way inside my dress, now cupping my tits skin-on-skin. I closed my eyes and soaked up the sensational feeling as his expert hands massaged me. Instinctively, I ground my hips into his, feeling his bulge press against my ass.

While he continued to fondle my breasts with one hand, his other reached down, stroking my thigh and gradually reaching towards my pussy. As my dress began to slip off my body, I encouraged him by spreading my legs, and moaned deeply when his fingers finally reached my clit and began rubbing it through my already-soaked panties.

I reached behind my back and began stroking his hard cock through his pants, as he continued to rub my clit and fondle my tits. One, then two, then three fingers found their way inside my panties, and he was now stroking me vigorously, pinching my nipples as he began to slip a finger inside my pussy. I moaned loudly and gave up my motions on his cock, letting my body weight fall into his as he brought me to new heights of pleasure.

After a few minutes, he guided me over to his large leather sofa, encouraged me to step out of my dress and panties completely, and motioned for me to sit down. Kneeling between my legs, he kissed up and down my inner thighs for a few moments before finally reaching my clit again, this time with his tongue. Aside from one crazy experiment with my roommate in college, I'd never had such an expert tongue pleasure me, and I came very quickly.

Jeff stood up and undressed, tossing his clothes aside and revealing, finally, his impressive cock, which sprang free, already erect, as soon as he pulled off his boxers. He climbed on top of me in a 69 position, his cock dangling over my mouth, and began to lick my juices from my pussy lips as I took him into my mouth.

I was quickly moaning again as he licked back and forth across my pussy, his tongue now darting in and out, but my moans were soon stifled as he pressed more and more of his length into my mouth, and into my throat. I wrapped one hand around the base of his shaft and squeezed him with each of his thrusts, as his balls slapped against my skin and I squirmed in pleasure beneath him.

This was my first 69, and I was loving every second of it, as we pleasured each other for what seemed like hours, shifting positions occasionally for a new sensation. Once I found myself on top, I took advantage of the opportunity, dying to feel his cock buried deep in my pussy. After taking his entire length into my mouth a few more times, I pulled away and turned to face him, straddling him and slowly lowering myself onto his long, hard cock.

The feeling was incredible, as his cock pulsed inside of me, the biggest I had ever experienced. I alternated between rotating my hips in a long, slow circle and riding him fast and hard, shifting between the two just as I felt I was about to cum, to prolong the pleasure.

"Are you ready to cum, Emily? Do you want to feel what it's like when I really fuck you hard?"

"Oh, god yes, Jeff, I want you to pound my tight little pussy until we both cum!"

He lifted me off of his cock and we both stood up, walked around to the other side of the sofa, and he bent me over it, my swollen nipples pressing into the cold leather as he reached down and aggressively spread my legs wide apart. I was completely vulnerable now, and I knew what was coming next.

In one fast, hard motion, he pounded into me, and I cried out in pleasure at the depth of his penetration. Before I even had a chance to breathe, he began thrusting faster and faster, bringing us both very quickly to the brink of orgasm. He let his weight fall against mine, pressing me harder into the cold leather as he reached around and grabbed my tits, kneading them hard as I came, finally overwhelmed by wave after wave of pleasure.

He continued to fuck me for a few moments more, before finally jerking and spasming inside of me and pulling out to shoot his load across my ass. I remained there, too tired and too happy to move, as he returned to the other side of the sofa and collapsed there, looking up at me with smiling eyes.

"So, what were you saying earlier, you weren't sure what I meant?"

I smiled, embarrassed that I had ever thought he was gay. "Um, well, let's just say I was wrong about you. Turns out, I'm the one who's, well.... let's just say I'm a whore to culture. Get it?"

"Yes, hard to miss a pun that bad. But hey, don't call yourself a whore. A dirty little slut, maybe..."