I am sitting on the bus after a long day at work (I’m a nurse in a small and dull hospital) and there are six men and one other woman here with me. They vary in ages, and each of them I find attractive, one way or another. I begin wondering what they look like naked, what kind of lovers they are. I start to imagine that they are all my lovers. Not at the same time, of course, this isn’t some kind of wild bus ride orgy. Each is a secret lover.
I. Who Are My Lovers?
Steve
He’s thirty, works as a medical engineer. He comes up with new equipment designs for doctors to employ – and he has lots of money, a good catch for any woman with marriage on the mind (which I am not). He’s the younger brother of:
Curtis
He’s forty-three. He’s my boss at work (but in bed, I’m the boss and the one who holds the whip and uses it). He’s married and has two daughters younger than me; it seems one of them briefly dated:
Tim
He’s eighteen, a senior in high school. He gets hard pretty fast right after orgasm . . . again and again. Oh, the young boys! say the older ladies. Hey, I might as well have sex with a younger guy if I’m going to be with older men, eh? Speaking of older dudes, I don’t know if you’ll believe this, but you’re just going to have to believe it because there is:
Hank
He’s seventy. Yes, that’s right. Oh, wicked me. He’s a professor emeritus type; he writes books on political history. Sometimes I do work for him, and sometimes I let him fuck me. He has a lot of stamina and staying power for a man his age (I can’t help but be impressed by that); he’s quite fit, muscular, and probably the best fuck I’ve ever had (really!), next to:
Larry
He’s fifty-two. He’s my stepfather – or should I say ex-stepfather? He’s no longer married to my mother, and now he’s one of my lovers. He’s been my longest lover, off and on, which I’ll explain a little later. Yes, it sounds sordid, and it is sordid, but I’m sordid, and so is:
Ron
He’s twenty-two, my age. He’s your normal southern California guy with the tan, the muscles, the tattoos, and even the baseball cap. He doesn’t have much in his head and that’s fine by me. I like hanging out with him and he’s a nice hard fuck, and so is:
Bethany
With all these men, I need a female lover too – variety, of course. Pussy (never “cunt”, I hate that word) can be just as good as dick. Bethany is pure lesbian and if she knew I put dick inside me, she would probably vomit. She’s twenty-five, a lipstick lesbian, petite and bouncy. You see, I’d never gone to bed with a woman, I wanted to try it, Bethany came along, it happened. I enjoy what we do in bed, so we do it a lot now and then, when I can fit her in my schedule with all these others.
II. How I Met My Lovers
Curtis
I’ve been sleeping with him for two years now, ever since I left Alaska and moved to warm and sunny southern California: San Diego. I’m not sure who made the first move, but I was attracted to the man and had sex with him in the office, and later in motel rooms.
Steve
Curtis’ wife and kids were out of town one weekend so I spent the night with him. His brother made an unannounced visit. Curtis came up with some story that I was helping with extra work but Steve knew what was going on. Steve had his brother’s looks. I slipped Steve a note: Call me with my number. When he called, I said, “I really was helping your brother with extra work.”
“Yeah?” Steve said. “With what? Mid-life crisis?”
“I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“Is this why you wanted me to call you?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“I was hoping you’d ask me out on a date.”
“Oh,” he said.
When he picked me up that night, I said, “Forget the dinner and the movie, let’s just fuck.”
“You’re very fast,” he said.
“I don’t like to waste time,” I said.
A week later, Steve told me that he didn’t want to fuck me if I was fucking his brother. “That’s too weird,” he said. I lied and said his brother was a one-time thing, that I didn’t like seeing married men . . .
Tim
I met him on the beach. You got it: he surfs. His long blond hair is very cute. He thinks it’s cool to be fucking an older woman – five years and I’m “older”.
Ron
Met him at a party; he and two of his friends got me into a bedroom. I knew what was going on. The three of them fucked me on the bed. Ron stayed, looking guilty. He kept saying that he was very sorry that he and his friends raped me. I told him it wasn’t rape, I knew what they were up to, I played along, I wanted to get laid just like he and his buddies did. He didn’t believe me, maybe he thought he’d get in trouble. To prove my sincerity, I gave him a blowjob and later went home with him where we stayed up all night and screwed our happy heads off.
Bethany
She’s a graduate student at the college where Hank is an emeritus. She had done some work for Hank; it was at Hank’s house that we first met. I knew she was gay, I saw her give me The Look. I gave her The Look back. One time, we went out and had some beers. “Do you like to munch carpets?” she asked me. I told her no but said, “I’d like to try.”
Hank
Okay, I saved the two sordid tales for last. Yes, the man is seventy and no, I never pictured myself ever in bed with a man his age. But it happened, and this is how: like I said, he writes books on the politics of the past. History and the behind-the-scenes matter of governments. “Some call me a militarist,” he once said, “but I am, in fact, a realist. And,” he added with a wink, “quite robust.” An out-of-town friend, a man in his early fifties, came in for a visit and I wound up in bed with him. One time only. But Hank found out. “Why him,” Hank asked, “and not me?” So I said to Hank, “I’ll go to bed with you, one time and one time only.” But he was such a fantastic fuck I came back for more, and more and more.
Larry
Well, like I said, he used to be married to my mother – not for a long time, something like two years. They were dating for a bit, went to Vegas, got drunk, got married, and the next time I had sex with Larry he said, “Guess what? I’m your Daddy now!” I hit him and told him not to joke. When my mother told me about the Vegas marriage, I was very angry at Larry. I told Larry that I would never sleep with him again as long as he was my “stepfather”. Oh, he tried, though, and despite the fact that I really liked sex and liked sex with him, I did not give in. So the day the divorce was final, I went to Larry and gave him a big sloppy blowjob. “Oh, what I’ve been missing!” he said. “We have a lot of catching up to do,” I said.
III. Six Cocks & One Pussy – A Brief Description of the Genitals of My Lovers
Curtis
It is short, maybe five and a half inches, but it’s very thick. Thick is good. I like the feeling of being stretched out. His balls are big and dangle to and fro when he walks around without underwear.
Steve
He’s thick like his brother but about an inch longer . . . and his balls are small.
Bethany
Let me insert her pussy here, among all these dicks. Her pussy is shaved, unlike mine (but I’ve been thinking about it). It has tiny lips, unlike mine. It squirts when reaching orgasm, unlike mine. It tastes so sweet, unlike mine, which I know is a little bitter (or tastes so when I suck a cock straight out of my cunt).
Hank
Big, thick, meaty, veiny – with a huge bulb of a head. And it stays hard for two to three hours. This is why getting fucked by the old guy is so great.
Ron
It’s uncut. I like staring at it, hiding under all that foreskin – and then peekaboo, it pops out!
Tim
It is curved like a banana. The curve does wonders on my clit and makes me have multiple orgasms.
Larry
It’s an average-looking, average-sized dick except a small piece of the head is missing, and he has only one testicle. The single testicle thing is a birth defect, the missing piece, he told me, “is a war wound left by my first wife. The night she knew it was over she acted like everything was okay, so we fooled around, she was giving me head and then she bit me. She spit the piece of me out and said: ‘Now you’ll never forget me.’ And I never have.” And I said the woman must have been fucking crazy.
IV. Crazy
And so am I – I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. In this day, this age, I have this many lovers . . . and none of them know about each other . . . I could have more, the opportunities present themselves but I manage to curb my enthusiasm. I work them into my schedule and try my best to avoid not having sex with more than one each on any single day. But there is one day I have to confess about –
V. Oh, That One Wild Day of Pure & Constant Fucking
This was a Saturday. It started early, real early – at 5:30 a.m. I was sleeping in Tim’s bed and he woke me up for a morning quickie. That’s always a nice way to wake up. Then he got into his wetsuit, grabbed his board, and said, “Gotta catch those early waves, babe.”
“Have fun.”
“See ya, babe.”
“Bye,” I said, watching his ass as he walked out the door.
I couldn’t sleep. I dressed and started to drive home. I was hungry. I called Steve on my cell, knowing he would be awake and working on some kind of engineering problem.
“Meet me at I-Hop,” I said.
“This is a surprise,” he said.
“I need pancakes,” I said.
“Pancakes sound good,” he said.
We had pancakes and eggs and then went back to his place for a quickie. He said he was on a breakthrough and wished he could spend the whole day with me. I told him that was okay, gave him a kiss, and was back at my place by ten. I was just about to kick back and watch some morning cartoons when Ron called. He was in the area. I told him to come on over. I was suspicious about his “being in the area”.
“Actually I’m on my way to the airport,” he said. “I wanted to see you . . .”
“Flying? Where to?”
“Las Vegas.”
“Gambling?”
“There’s a girl there.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I wanted to tell you . . .”
“What’s her name?”
“Rachel.”
“Nice name.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No,” I said, and smiled.
“You’re always evasive about getting serious,” Ron said, “and Rachel . . . she wants to be serious.”
“What does she do in Vegas? Black jack dealer? Dancer?”
“She’s just a teller at a bank.”
“Well, go see her,” I said.
“You’re mad, I can tell.”
“I’m not,” I said, and I wasn’t. How could I be? I had no right to be.
“We can still be friends,” he said.
“We can be good friends,” I said.
“Really?”
“Really,” I said. “Let me show you what good friends can do for each other,” and I got down on my knees and sucked him off.
I watched him drive away, from my window, his semen still swishing in my mouth . . . and I felt sad. I felt like I’d lost something.
I laid down to take a nap.
At noon, my cell rang. It was Curtis.
“My wife will be gone all day, she took the kids to see her mom,” he said. “I’m alone here. Why don’t you come over . . .?” His voice was low and sexy.
“Isn’t that risky?” I asked.
“It’s always been that,” he said. “Hmm?”
“Well,” I said. “I don’t know . . .”
“I’m your boss,” he said.
“This is my day off.”
“You must do what I say.”
I could not resist, of course. I told him I’d be there in an hour. I showered, brushed my teeth, washed out my mouth with Listerine, and drove to Steve’s house. He asked if I was hungry for lunch and I said I was. He made sandwiches and we drank some wine and kissed for a while. Then he took me to the bed he shared with his wife.
“I want your arse,” he said, “will you let me stick it in your arse?”
“Always, honey,” I said. I let him fuck me this way even though I didn’t care all that much for it; I let him do it whenever he asked because he said his wife would never let him but when he got to do it with me, he always got giddy and happy – and that made me happy.
I was driving home at 3:30 p.m. when Hank called my cell. He said he couldn’t find a file folder he needed for his research. He sounded frantic. I told him to calm down and drove to his house. Turns out this was a ruse, he just wanted to see me, to fuck me. I said I’d give him a blowjob but he said he really needed to be in my pussy. After that backdoor action with Steve, leaving my arse stinging, some pussy action sounded nice.
While Hank fucked me for a couple of hours, my cell rang three times.
Leaving Hank’s, I checked my messages. It was Larry. His messages: “Please call ASAP.” I hoped nothing was wrong. I called and he said: “I just needed to hear your voice.”
“What is it?”
“I miss you,” he said.
“I miss you too.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Nothing, I’m naked.”
“You’re driving.”
“I’m driving naked.”
“Touch your pussy for me,” he said, “touch it . . .”
So I had phone sex with him as I drove. I listened to him come and smiled, feeling powerful.
I called him back when I got home and we had more phone sex, I played with my clit and he listened to me come.
An hour later, the cell rang and I figured it was Larry, ready for more phone, but it was Bethany.
“Let’s have dinner,” she said.
“Okay,” I said.
“What do you want?”
“Your sweet pussy,” I said.
“That’s dessert.”
“Whatever you want.”
“I want to make dinner for you,” Bethany said. “I want to cook for you, okay?”
“Okay.”
I got into a really short yellow dress, thin fabric, no underwear or bra; I arrived at Bethany’s apartment at 8:00 p.m. She was naked, but wore an apron and high-heels. I could smell pasta being cooked, and all the lights were out, except for two candles on the dinner table. And a bottle of red wine.
“Wow,” I said.
“I want tonight to be special and romantic,” she said, kissing me deeply and grabbing my left tit with one hand and my right arse cheek with the other.
I grabbed her too.
Our tongues tangoed for three minutes.
“Tonight will be, sweet thing,” said I.
And oh, it was.