Lithouse Forum

[OldJourno]

I'd been a meter reader for a few years, and I always enjoyed the four days I spent in Southtown.
The rest of the city had converted to the water meters you can read from the street. You just shoot the gizmo in the right direction, write down the total and drive 5 mph to the next house and repeat the process.
Southtown was different. It was a bit poorer than the surrounding neighborhoods and, the Water Department superintendent said, they couldn't afford the extra $460 spread out over a year to get the new meters. Besides, water use was nominal at most homes since lawns were scarce.
Me, I liked the exercise. I'd start working that section on Monday and had to walk about five miles a day to hit every house and business in order to finish by Thursday. I could do six miles easily, since most meters were on the side of the house and I got along well with the dogs, so Thursdays were real easy but I still got paid for 7.5 hours.
And I always saw my favorite babe on Thursday at one of the last meters I had to read. She was short, no more than 4 feet tall, and stacked like a miniature Jennifer Lopez. And she was always friendly-flirty with me.
On this Thursday I ran into her at the Bodega just down the street from her house. The bodega meter was in the back of the store, and it seemed like she was waiting for me when I came back through the swinging doors into the shopping area.
"Hi, Mr. Meter Man," she said in that slow Spanish accent that I thought was so hot. She smiled at me, then picked up the sides of her skirt and slowly spun around, sort of like a model on a runway. She may have been wearing a thong, but if so it was hidden in her perfect butt cheeks.
Her tits were straining against the white T-shirt, the nipples clearly outlined on the taut material.
"I'll be downstairs in five minutes," she said.
And that's where'd I'd be. She lived in one of the few homes with the meter in the basement.
My imagination was running wild as I read the three meters before getting to her home. I went in through the back door (meter readers give a courtesy knock and barge in) and clomped down the stairs. She was waiting by the meter, standing on a table facing the wall, naked, that gorgeous ass right in my face. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned.
"Hungry?" she asked.
She didn't need to ask twice. I bent her over to get my share of the pink taco to go along with the winker that smelled faintly of refried beans. She came several times before I released my grip on her waist.
Then she turned around, helped me with my belt and hopped on. As we started screwing standing up I managed, "You are so beautiful. What's your name?"
"Consuelo," she moaned.
"It's not way low when you're standing on the table," I gasped.
Name Withheld
Amarillo

 

[OldJourno]

"Hi, this is Michelle from credit card services. No need to worry, there is nothing wrong with your account"
I swiped the screen to end the call, which originated from Florida. It was not a number the phone recognized.
"Telemarketer," I told my wife, whose eyes were glued to the screen. Another day, another Seinfeld rerun, or about a half-dozen of them. Some light housework, six Law and Order reruns, a meal from the freezer and the news would round out her day.
Two hours later another call, this one from Louisiana.
"Hi, this is Michelle from credit card services. No need to worry, there is nothing wrong with your account"
I tuned her out and started my own monolog. "Hi, baby," I said. "Yeah, you were hot last night. I'm getting hard just thinking about it."
"Who are you talking to?" My plan worked. My wife was out of her self-induced retirement coma.
"Same telemarketer as before, but I think she's stalking me," I said. "First call was from Florida, this one was from Louisiana."
"Hmmm," she replied. Back to the coma.
When the phone rang an hour later, the screen showed the call was from Texas.
"Hi, this is Michelle from credit card services. No need to worry, there is nothing ... oh, to hell with the script. Your voice is so hot. I'd really like to meet you."
"I, uh, uh," I stammered. I pushed the End Call button before a panic attack set in.
I'm painfully shy around people I don't know. I worked for 34 years as a lineman for the local electric cooperative, a job with very limited contact with the public.
My wife picked me out, somehow, asked me out on a date, and we married two months later. That was over 20 years ago. As near as I can tell, we only have one thing in common.
When the phone rang again, this time from a New Mexico location, I knew who was on the other end.
"Hi, this is Michelle from credit card services, but I'm thinking about quitting," the voice on the line said. "I'm desperate to meet you."
By now I was truly regretting my ad lib about how hot Michelle had been.
Just after I hit the End Call button my wife turned to me. "Tell me when she gets to Arizona."
That call came 90 minutes later.
"Hi, this is Michelle. I am so horny and I should be there in 90 minutes."
I said nothing, breathing heavily into the phone but too nervous to do anything else.
"Arizona," I said to my wife. She rose from her chair and made her way to the basement.
Michelle didn't call again. Instead, there was a knock on the door an hour later.
I opened the door and we looked at each other. Her face was flushed. The shirt she wore was unbuttoned to the waist, allowing her breasts to swing freely as she walked into the house.
My pulse quickened.
I gently took her arm and led her down the basement steps, where my wife waited with an assortment of chains, handcuffs, knives, a blowtorch and three ball gags. I'd made this walk over the years with about a dozen other women, women who never left our home alive.
As I said earlier, I have one thing in common with my wife.

 

[OldJourno]

The prelude to sex was underway. Daisy was on the bed behind Buck, her legs wrapped around his waist as she probed his neck looking for ripe blackheads and whiteheads.
"Got it," she exulted as a white glob shot over her shoulder and splattered on the wall. The dark blue paint was so heavily spotted with zit residue it almost looked like a cloudless sky at night.
"Ow," Buck complained when Daisy turned her attention to a field of blackheads just below the hairline.
"Mmmmmm," Daisy smacked her lips after sucking on her fingers. "Buck, them 'heads is better'n boogers."
"I got something even better than that," Buck said, his fingers playing over her calves.
Daisy responded by rubbing her feet against Buck's crotch. When he moaned she pulled her T-shirt over her head and pressed her heavy tits against his back. That was enough for Buck. He stood and started tugging his jeans off, then sat on the bed facing Daisy.
Buck lightly pinched Daisy's nipples and grinned as they stiffened. "You like that, don't you," he said.
Daisy's hands were busily stroking Buck's tumasints ..., tumesants ..., oh, fuckit, stroking his hard-on, seemingly hypnotized as it grew in her hands.
She pushed Buck onto his back, then stood up and shimmied out of her cutoffs, her boobs swaying madly. Buck followed them with his eyes as he idly stroked his man-meat.
Daisy dropped onto the bed, straddling Buck. She grabbed his hardness, positioned herself and gasped as she allowed herself to be impaled by it. In no time she had settled into a steady rocking motion while Buck continued to caress and pinch her nipples.
Suddenly the bedroom door burst open and an older woman strode into the room.
"Dammit, Daisy, I've told you at least a dozen times to stop fucking your brother."

 

[OldJourno]

When I took the job at the book store I figured it was a great way to meet women. I even maximized my chances, I thought, by reading a book off the shelves in the Human/Sexual Relations section about subliminal messages. You know what I mean, messages that send indirect suggestions that get women red hot for you.
But mostly I never got the chance to try these subliminal messages out. Women were either distracted or in a hurry or with their boyfriends/husbands.
The exception was Rosie. She wasn't particularly hot but she did like to talk.
"What are customers saying about this new David Baldacci novel?" she asked. It was the first time a customer had ever asked my opinion.
I had no idea about Baldacci, or even if she pronounced it correctly. So I winged it, saying talk from regulars was that the new book was awesome. I noticed she was staring at me, and she noticed that I noticed.
"I'm very hard of hearing," she said with a smile that highlighted buck teeth and a half-inch overbite. "I lip read."
That being the case, I figured she was a perfect candidate for my subliminal messages. I could try them out on her, but only if she wasn't looking at me. I'm kinda shy, so this made sense to me.
"You ever read this book 'Zeke Kalsu, Zombie Killer'?" she asked on the next visit.
"I'm pretty sure it sucks," I said. When she turned away, I added this subliminal gem. "But I think you'll find yourself coming over and over again back to ..."
I stopped and my face turned red when she turned back to me before I could complete the sentence.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Oh, just rambling," I replied. "Sorry."
She was back the next week and was in a chatty mood. For whatever reason, I felt emboldened, so when she turned away I was ready.
"This book said if I used the words 'new direction' enough, you'd subliminally starting thinking of my 'nude erection'," I babbled. "And of course, you'll probably want to put it in your mouth."
About that time I noticed this small contraption wrapped around her ear. She had a new hearing aid. Suddenly I felt like a giant turd.
That's when she turned to me and smiled.
"I was thinking of a new direction," she giggled. "Can you help me out."
Turns out I couldn't, though it wasn't a lack of her effort on her part in the back room. Maybe it was performance anxiety. Or maybe I couldn't get that image of Mr. Ed out of my head when those buck teeth scraped the top of my dick over and over again.
Anyway, after three minutes I was zipped up and she was heading out the store's front door when I snorted and muttered "Willlburrrrr." Rosie didn't even bother to turn around as she flipped me off.
That's a pretty good hearing aid and a not so subtle subliminal message.
Name Withheld
Baltimore

 

[Floridian]

"Hi, this is Michelle from credit card services. No need to worry, there is nothing wrong with your account"
I swiped the screen to end the call, which originated from Florida. It was not a number the phone recognized.
"Telemarketer," I told my wife, whose eyes were glued to the screen. Another day, another Seinfeld rerun, or about a half-dozen of them. Some light housework, six Law and Order reruns, a meal from the freezer and the news would round out her day.
Two hours later another call, this one from Louisiana.
"Hi, this is Michelle from credit card services. No need to worry, there is nothing wrong with your account"
I tuned her out and started my own monolog. "Hi, baby," I said. "Yeah, you were hot last night. I'm getting hard just thinking about it."
"Who are you talking to?" My plan worked. My wife was out of her self-induced retirement coma.
"Same telemarketer as before, but I think she's stalking me," I said. "First call was from Florida, this one was from Louisiana."
"Hmmm," she replied. Back to the coma.
When the phone rang an hour later, the screen showed the call was from Texas.
"Hi, this is Michelle from credit card services. No need to worry, there is nothing ... oh, to hell with the script. Your voice is so hot. I'd really like to meet you."
"I, uh, uh," I stammered. I pushed the End Call button before a panic attack set in.
I'm painfully shy around people I don't know. I worked for 34 years as a lineman for the local electric cooperative, a job with very limited contact with the public.
My wife picked me out, somehow, asked me out on a date, and we married two months later. That was over 20 years ago. As near as I can tell, we only have one thing in common.
When the phone rang again, this time from a New Mexico location, I knew who was on the other end.
"Hi, this is Michelle from credit card services, but I'm thinking about quitting," the voice on the line said. "I'm desperate to meet you."
By now I was truly regretting my ad lib about how hot Michelle had been.
Just after I hit the End Call button my wife turned to me. "Tell me when she gets to Arizona."
That call came 90 minutes later.
"Hi, this is Michelle. I am so horny and I should be there in 90 minutes."
I said nothing, breathing heavily into the phone but too nervous to do anything else.
"Arizona," I said to my wife. She rose from her chair and made her way to the basement.
Michelle didn't call again. Instead, there was a knock on the door an hour later.
I opened the door and we looked at each other. Her face was flushed. The shirt she wore was unbuttoned to the waist, allowing her breasts to swing freely as she walked into the house.
My pulse quickened.
I gently took her arm and led her down the basement steps, where my wife waited with an assortment of chains, handcuffs, knives, a blowtorch and three ball gags. I'd made this walk over the years with about a dozen other women, women who never left our home alive.
As I said earlier, I have one thing in common with my wife.

https://up8.xhcdn.com/000/139/858/379_1000.gif

 

[Floridian]

When I took the job at the book store I figured it was a great way to meet women. I even maximized my chances, I thought, by reading a book off the shelves in the Human/Sexual Relations section about subliminal messages. You know what I mean, messages that send indirect suggestions that get women red hot for you.
But mostly I never got the chance to try these subliminal messages out. Women were either distracted or in a hurry or with their boyfriends/husbands.
The exception was Rosie. She wasn't particularly hot but she did like to talk.
"What are customers saying about this new David Baldacci novel?" she asked. It was the first time a customer had ever asked my opinion.
I had no idea about Baldacci, or even if she pronounced it correctly. So I winged it, saying talk from regulars was that the new book was awesome. I noticed she was staring at me, and she noticed that I noticed.
"I'm very hard of hearing," she said with a smile that highlighted buck teeth and a half-inch overbite. "I lip read."
That being the case, I figured she was a perfect candidate for my subliminal messages. I could try them out on her, but only if she wasn't looking at me. I'm kinda shy, so this made sense to me.
"You ever read this book 'Zeke Kalsu, Zombie Killer'?" she asked on the next visit.
"I'm pretty sure it sucks," I said. When she turned away, I added this subliminal gem. "But I think you'll find yourself coming over and over again back to ..."
I stopped and my face turned red when she turned back to me before I could complete the sentence.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Oh, just rambling," I replied. "Sorry."
She was back the next week and was in a chatty mood. For whatever reason, I felt emboldened, so when she turned away I was ready.
"This book said if I used the words 'new direction' enough, you'd subliminally starting thinking of my 'nude erection'," I babbled. "And of course, you'll probably want to put it in your mouth."
About that time I noticed this small contraption wrapped around her ear. She had a new hearing aid. Suddenly I felt like a giant turd.
That's when she turned to me and smiled.
"I was thinking of a new direction," she giggled. "Can you help me out."
Turns out I couldn't, though it wasn't a lack of her effort on her part in the back room. Maybe it was performance anxiety. Or maybe I couldn't get that image of Mr. Ed out of my head when those buck teeth scraped the top of my dick over and over again.
Anyway, after three minutes I was zipped up and she was heading out the store's front door when I snorted and muttered "Willlburrrrr." Rosie didn't even bother to turn around as she flipped me off.
That's a pretty good hearing aid and a not so subtle subliminal message.
Name Withheld
Baltimore

https://up1.xhcdn.com/000/139/991/966_1000.gif

 

[OldJourno]

Dear Lithouse Forum:
We were probably 30 minutes into our Friday night ritual. My Kim had prepared the concoction and allowed me to inhale deeply twice, giggling as she said "No more, my Petey" when I reached for the pipe again. The blend of mysterious ingredients made me feel as if I was floating - while also super-charging my erection. I was rock hard as she hovered naked above me, shaving around my penis with a straight-edge razor.
The ritual would include moments when she would lean over my face, allowing me to suck her nipples. "Now, My Petey," she would whisper, then sigh as her arousal grew. Then she would giggle and shift away, saying "No more, My Petey," and continue shaving me.
I was enjoying the anticipation of her straddling my face, something she did as she shaved around my balls, the last stop for her straight-edge.
The moment was interrupted when both of our phones signaled a local law enforcement emergency.
Kim looked at the text message and a brief smile crossed her lovely face.
"What is it, My Kim," I murmured. The moment was far from spoiled for me; I still felt as if I was floating above the cushions that covered the floor, my erection still standing tall.
"Police say trouble, My Petey," she said. "Evil man may be near."
"Evil?" In my present state I had a hard time grasping the concept. "What did he do?"
"Police say he kill five people," My Kim answered. "Police say he may be in neighborhood."
My sense of time was altered, but it did seem like the noise of the back door being kicked in occurred just at that point.
"Stay here, My Petey," My Kim whispered as she rose and slipped on a loose-fitting robe, one that was ridiculously large for her. The sleeves extended well beyond her small hands. "I will be right back."
With that she gave me her secret smile and slipped out of the room.
I remember hearing voices, one of them loud and angry. Moments later My Kim was back in our room, followed by a large man carrying the biggest revolver I've ever seen.
He smelled bad and needed a shave. His hair was greasy and his eyes were wild.
"Get rid of the hard-on, faggot," he snarled. "You ain't part of this party."
He was towering over me as he raised the revolver and pointed it at my face. I smiled as My Kim stepped in front of the angry, violent man.
"Someone else here," she said to him. "Must not shoot."
"Huh. Who else is here?"
"Marshall," My Kim said, that smile reappearing so briefly.
"Marshall?"
"Yes," My Kim murmured. "Martial arts."
What followed was too fast for me to comprehend. I heard the huge revolver land with a muted thud on a cushion as My Kim stepped back, the straight-edge razor bright red.
The intruder still stood before me, the right hand that had gripped the revolver seemingly hanging to his wrist by a narrow strip of skin. Blood was spraying there as well as from the side of his neck.
He opened his mouth to cough, instead expelling a giant glob of blood. Then he looked at his ruined hand and both of us before collapsing. He spasmed a final time, then was still.
Amazingly, there was no blood on me or My Kim.
"How is that possible, My Kim," I asked as she knelt between my legs.
"That is why it is martial and art, My Petey," she murmured before dropping her mouth over me.
Name Withheld
Locust Point, Utah

 

[OldJourno]

Dear Lithouse Forum,
I'll be up front about it, I'm a sex worker. High class, pricey, educated, informed.
And I get top dollar - $75 an hour is the starting point. Hell, I'll net $500 some nights, after my agency takes its 40% cut.
Plus, I'm clean. No STDs when I was tested four or five years ago. And they say I look pretty young for a 23-year-old.
So the agency calls about 8:45, just as I'm leaving my third date. I need to hustle over to the Wilkes, a better than average D.C. boutique hotel. In the case of the Wilkes, the difference between a regular hotel room and a boutique room would be a wall that's pretty much just one big mirror.
I put on my big smile when the door opened. Jesus, I thought, this guy is tall.
"Mr. Cummy, I presume," I whispered in my best Southern drawl.
He frowned as he ushered me in.
"Actually," he said with this really dorky smile, "It's pronounced 'comb, long e.'"
I checked my phone for the text from the agency. "Nope. It's definitely 'Cummy.' How else would you pronounce c-o-m-e and add a y? It only makes sense."
"Look at me." His brusque tone startled me. He may be a dork, but he's a big dork, and I just finished paying off the loan for the dentures. That was a night to remember, though mostly what I remember is waking up in the ER.
"Anyway, I'm pretty famous," he said as his tone softened. And he gave me that total dork smile again before he said, "If you'll stop and look at me, you'll realize I'm a pretty hot ticket. I'll be on all the networks tomorrow."
I gave him a closer look. I was drawing a blank.
"Well?" he asked, an expectant tone in his voice.
"I know!" suddenly the answer dawned on me. "You were Butterface in 'Deadpool'!"
They may call him Cummy, but he didn't with me. He did shove four twenties in my hand before he pushed me out the door, though. It's pretty well known we've got off-duty FBI agents who make a few extra bucks working for the agency, and they can be pretty tough with deadbeats who don't pay the minimum.
And it was probably for the better. I needed to do something about the lice before the next date.
Name Withheld
Washington

 

[OldJourno]

Dear Lithouse Forum,
I'd been wading through some seemingly endless dialog in one of those early Patricia Cornwell novels when the lady behind the counter asked if what I was reading was a Kindle.
It was her fourth failed attempt at starting a conversation. Lulu was nice enough to look at, one of those out-of-high-school-two-years types of pretty, but the rental car was supposed to be ready when I'd arrived 40 minutes ago. So it was nice having a kinda hot young woman paying attention to me, but I'd rather get in the rental and drive away.
Besides, there was this hulking monster of a guy in coveralls roaming the area, loudly cursing and throwing tools. He'd taken a mighty kick at a small dog, which barely dodged out of the way before scampering off.
"Oh, that's just Kevin from Maintenance," Lulu would roll her eyes and say after every outburst from the giant stomping around just outside the office, which had two outer walls that were nothing but windows.
"Oh, that's just Kevin," she said again as she rolled her eyes. "He's from Maintenance."
Kevin's screaming made it hard to concentrate on the book, and the windows made it all too easy to see what damage he was thinking of inflicting.
Talking seemed like a smarter option than trying to read, so I expanded on my terse response of "yes" when she asked if I was reading a Kindle.
"I've got more than 200 books on this Kindle," I said as I rose from the chair and approached the counter, where Lulu sat with a smile on her face. In no time I was whipping through the book covers to show what I had stored in the device. Actually, my thumb was doing the flicking while I was spending almost all my time staring at Lulu's cleavage, which was much more impressive when I was up close and looking down at the scenery inside the low-cut blouse.
"Oh, wait, what's that," Lulu exclaimed as more book covers flew by. I stopped swiping my thumb over the screen and backed up two pages to the one she was looking for.
"That's it!" Lulu fairly shouted. "That cover is so cool."
"The book is even better," I told her. "I wrote it."
"No way."
"Way."
Lulu giggled then grew silent. She licked her lips and leaned across the counter even more, the maneuver serving to stretch her shirt so much that her nipples were showing.
"You like my tits, don't you," she whispered, her voice suddenly husky.
Startled, I pretended I didn't hear. I did feel a familiar pressure in my Dockers.
"I slut for authors," she continued, her voice hoarse. "And I can slut right now."
"Is that even a verb?" I asked, my voice rising two octaves. Things seemed to be moving a bit too fast for me.
She came around the counter wearing perhaps the shortest skirt I've ever seen.
"In here," she nodded to a door marked by a sign that said Lounge. She grabbed my free hand and dragged me into a small room with a table, four chairs and a couch.
Still hanging onto my hand, she flipped the knob to lock the door before she backed up to the couch, sat down and pulled me down upon her. She was wrestling with my belt and covering my face with kisses when there was a thunderous hammering on the door. Then I heard that familiar, rage-filled voice as the door was kicked in.
"Oh, that's Kevin from Maintenance," Lulu said as she scrambled out from under me. She didn't roll her eyes this time, I noticed. "He's also my husband. You better run."
I was holding out the Kindle with my right hand while trying to pull up my pants with the left. The Kindle proved to be an inadequate shield, shattering in a dozen pieces when Kevin's fist pounded it straight into my mouth.
"You can stop now, Kebbin," I managed while spitting out teeth. I was vaguely aware of Lulu kicking at me and shouting, "Bad author. Kevin doesn't like bad author."
I was about to assume the fetal position and give myself last rites when a deafening gunshot rang out in the small room. I looked to the doorway in time to see a cop bring his pistol down and aim it at me.
"Is this the man, Kevin?" The cop shouted. He was sweating heavily and appeared to be terrified. "Is this the man who tried to take advantage of your trusting, faithful wife?"
Kevin, who had his fist cocked all the way back to his ear, seemed to relax.
"Yeah, he's the man who was rapin' my Lulu," he panted. He lowered his fist but his face remained so darkly red it was almost purple.
"I got this, Kevin," the cop said. He waggled the pistol in the direction of the door which was hanging from one hinge. "You, come with me."
I knew better than to protest, walking out as fast as I could to the waiting squad car. On the way out of the lounge I couldn't help but notice several holes in the ceiling, all near where the cop had fired when he came in the door.
"Wha' jus' happa?" I managed to mumble five minutes later when the cop dropped me off at the city limits and put an envelope stuffed with cash in my hands.
"Makeup Sex with Lulu and Kevin," the cop told me. "It's like its own porn niche, and each tape we've made has grossed $500,000 for the city, minimum. We've been filming ever since you walked in the door. Hell, Lulu and Kevin still haven't figured out that we're filming. We've got six cameras in the lounge running right now."
I nodded dumbly, blood dripping from my ruined lips onto my cupped hands.
"You might want to zip up," the cop added before peeling out and heading back into town. "One look at that bit of evidence tells me that Kevin has the bigger part in this movie."
Name Withheld
Arteekay, Arizona

 

[barefootgirl69]

*snip*
You don't know how much it meant to me, being allowed inside her inner circle like that.
Name Withheld
Camelhump, Arizona

LMAO!!! It's been too long since I've read this thread!

 

[OldJourno]

LMAO!!! It's been too long since I've read this thread!

Glad you enjoyed it.
On a grimmer note, this thread is on life support and desperate for story suggestions.
Or you guys could add a bit of literotica to Literotica.

 

[OldJourno]

Dear Lithouse:
I'd kept my appreciation of the neighbor across the street to myself. It's not something you can bring up in public. Can you imagine just tossing out your opinion that "the lady across the street is kinda hot" to the guys over beers after golf?
Yeah, buzz kill. We're older and we don't talk about stuff like that.
So it was my secret. And I'd treasure those moments when we'd both be in the front yard at the same time. She would always flash a wide smile, one that displayed perfect white teeth, and give me a big wave. Then she'd sway around and strut into the house while I stood, mouth agape, mesmerized by the cheeks hanging out of her cutoffs.
Then I'd catch myself drooling.
And I always held out hope one day she'd notice me. Working in my favor, I thought, was that there didn't seem to be a man around the house. There were, however, two hellions, boys ages 4 and 5, who routinely terrorized the neighborhood.
And then the unthinkable happened.
I was toweling off from my shower after golf and beers, had only been home a half-hour, in fact, when I heard a persistent knock at the door. Figuring it could be important (no one ever knocks on my door), I wrapped a towel around my waist and hustled to the front door. I opened it a crack and saw my neighbor lady.
And what a sight she was, a sundress casually draped over her shoulders. It was unbuttoned to her belly button (an outie), and I was pretty sure I was looking at the shortest sundress in history.
While I was taking her in she eyed me, her eyes coming to rest on the towel around my waist. "Perfect," she whispered as she smiled at me. She pushed the door open and stepped in, then casually ran her hand inside the dress's thin fabric and scratched at her side. The action caused the sundress to slide open and her left tit plopped out. It was bigger than I had imagined and bounced nicely as it was freed from the filmy cotton.
"Your tit ...," I struggled to find words, and appropriate words were out of the question. Tit? Really? I felt just like a clueless 14-year-old.
Make that a clueless, horny 14-year-old.
And she seemed to be thinking the same thing. She grabbed my right hand, which was busy clutching the towel, with her left hand. Then she yanked away the towel with her right hand. A moment later that same hand was on my growing erection.
"There's still some life in this old body, isn't there," she said, staring into my eyes as she caressed my balls.
"Oh, yes," I almost moaned, not believing my good luck.
"I saw you with your grandkids, so I know you'll have plenty of energy for what I have in mind, and that you can last for a couple of hours," she murmured as her tongue flicked at my ear. By then she was casually rubbing her hand on my cock.
"Two hours is no problem," I panted. "I'll do anything you want."
"Great." She stepped away from me and pulled a cell phone out of a pocket. "Better get that towel around your waist. Better yet, get dressed."
And then she was talking on the phone.
"Travis, baby, get ready for the ride of your life," she said in the sexiest voice I think I've ever heard. "But first, you've got to bring my kids across the street. I found a sitter."
Name Withheld
San Francisco

 

[OldJourno]

Dear Lithouse Forum,
I never thought I'd be writing to you, but that was mostly because I don't really have much of a sex life. I did have sex with three guys in high school, but that was all on the same night and I don't want to bore you with the details. Let me just say that high school boys may not have much for stamina, but give them 10 minutes to recharge and they can go again.
So you could say I had sex 18 times in high school, but I guess it's a lot less impressive when it all happened in less than three hours.
Anyway, I got an office job downtown after high school and I'm still there six years later. And the best part of the job is Chili's on Fridays, when I go with Stella for a Margarita or three after work.
My adventure started on the second drink, when I told Stella a guy at the bar was staring at us. Stella didn't seem to be impressed.
"Honey, he's way too white and way too gay for me," she said.
That made me defensive. I told Stella that maybe he liked stout-hearted girls, but Stella told me my best chance would be if he just liked stout. I am a bit on the heavy side, but she didn't have to be nasty about it. Stella can be like that when she drinks.
Stella left after her second drink. That's when the mystery man approached the table and offered to buy me the third. I fell for him hard then, probably because he was the first man to ever buy me a drink.
His name was Morris and he said he was a field representative for Lady Gillette products. He smiled and said he had a few "very personal" products he'd like to try on me.
I'm not easy or anything, but about 10 minutes later I was naked on his hotel bed (room 6073), my legs spread about as wide as they could go. Morris gently washed me "down there" while complimenting me on my pubic hair (I heard him whisper "Christ, is that thing alive?"), then he gently applied a special shaving gel that tingled and really got me going, especially when he pushed on my special button with his free hand.
Then he brought out the shiny pink razor. That made me a bit nervous, but he was so gentle (and pushed my button a few more times) that soon I forgot about what he was doing and hoped he would do even more.
And he did, licking me gently after he finished shaving me and toweling me off.
"Tastes great," he said as he paused one more time to write notes on a clipboard.
By then I was beside myself.
"Fuck me, oh fuck me," I begged.
Morris looked startled.
"I can't," he said. "I'm in a monogamous relationship, and besides, I'm gay."
"Gay!" I shrieked. "For God's sake, get over it and fuck me."
I remember him shouting that "It doesn't work like that" while I chased him around the room. He finally locked himself in the bathroom. I could hear him weeping and praying in there while I dressed.
Morris, I'm signing my real name to this letter just to let you know I'm willing to give you a second chance. You bring the shaver, I'll supply the cream, if you know what I mean.
Sincerely,
Pooh Denda
Detroit

 

[OldJourno]

Dear Lithouse Forum,
I remember back in 1977, when I was still new to Hollywood, I went to see my mentor Roman. I should have called ahead because Roman had a date. She was just leaving as I came through the front door, her body racked by sobs.
I watched her walk to a waiting car.
"You suppose she wants to watch me take a shower?" I asked Roman.
"She's suffered enough," he told me.
I think she heard that because she turned and looked at us. I was shocked by her age.
"A little old for you, eh Roman?" I leered.
"Whatever," he replied. "I'm going to clean up and get this shit off my dick."
Those words stuck with me over the years. Those words were with me when my colleagues joined me in giving Roman a standing ovation at the Academy Awards.
What a night. What a tribute to such a great man.
And now Roman has just called. I think I'll head over to France for a while. Maybe all this will blow over and I can get this shit off my dick.
Thank God the French have a much more sophisticated view of rape.
Harvey W.
Therapy, Arizona

 

[OldJourno]

Dear Lithouse Forum,
Since I work nights, my date with Amber started with a late breakfast and plans to catch an 11 a.m. movie at the eight-screen cinemaplex next door. I'd heard that Amber really enjoyed sex, so I approached the first date with the idea I might get lucky. Based on what she was wearing - loose short-shorts and a tight T-shirt - my chances looked good.
But rather than go back to my place after breakfast, Amber insisted on the movie.
The theater complex was basically empty except for the woman selling tickets. No new hit movies to draw crowds, and it was also Wednesday.
While the ticket seller was trying to get my debit card to work, Amber moved up next to me and whispered, "Put your hand on my ass." I was startled for a moment, then slid my hand down her back. She had pulled on the elastic around her shorts, so my hand slid right onto her bare ass instead of the thin fabric.
As my middle finger worked its way into her crack, Amber leaned onto the counter and spread her legs. Suddenly the idea of going to a movie seemed like the thing to do.
We walked into theater No. 4 and sat with not another person in sight. In moments I had her shorts down to her knees while I caressed her clit. When she wasn't kissing me hungrily she was pulling her shirt up and rubbing her nipples.
All that was just a preview of coming attractions.
She pushed my hand away just before the movie started and surveyed the theater. It was still empty.
"Let's go to the front row," she whispered. "There's much more room."
So we hustled down, picked a spot, and in less than 30 seconds my head was buried between her legs, which were splayed over the arm rests and cup holders.
She didn't make too much noise when she came, but the tight grip of her thighs on my ears told me she was really enjoying the moment.
Then she stood up with her shorts dangling from one ankle and her shirt bunched up around her neck. She turned, leaned against the seat back, and offered herself. I slid in, reached around to grab her swaying tits, and started slow.
A few minutes later we both came. I sagged into the seat next to her and closed my eyes. I was spent.
Amber maintained her position, facing away from me with her ass in the air and her cheek on the seat back.
I'm not sure how long we stayed in those positions, but it soon dawned on me that Amber was talking. With my eyes still closed I tried to focus on what she was saying. In a voice husky with arousal, Amber murmured, "Oh baby, that tongue is just magic, but if you want to fuck me there I should probably take a dump first."
It took a few seconds for what she was saying to sink in. I opened my eyes to see a very short man in some kind of uniform burying his face in Amber's ass. Judging by the motion I could pick up in the dim light, it was pretty obvious he was also giving her a good finger fucking.
I cleared my throat and the sound seemed to rouse Amber. She turned her head, saw me, and her eyes opened wide.
"Who is eating my ass?" she whispered hoarsely.
The man with the busy tongue must have heard us. He pulled his head back long enough to say, "It's me, Kevin the custodian," before sticking out his tongue and thrusting again.
Amber screamed. I was willing to come to her defense, but thought it would be wise to do so with pants on. At that point I was having trouble finding them.
It didn't matter. Kevin pulled his face away from Amber's round ass, gave her a little bite on the cheek, and walked away.
We gathered up our clothes and got them on as quickly as possible and left less than halfway through the movie.
"We're going to your place and you will fuck me in the ass," Amber whispered as we left.
I never saw Kevin the custodian again, but I did giftwrap a bottle of Maker's Mark along with a thank you card and left it at the theater's front counter. The woman assured me Kevin would get the package.
Then she paused, looked around and then leaned forward.
"Kevin may not be the handsomest guy," she whispered. "But that tongue of his can really open up my back door."
And then she pulled back as if she was astonished she'd just said that.
No big deal. Amber still says the same thing.
Name Withheld
Route 7174
Des Moines

 

[OldJourno]

Dear Lithouse Forum,
I've enjoyed a good bit of success in my chosen field and I've always believed in giving back, as some like to say.
For that reason, I'm always happy to help the younger generation get a start in the movie industry.
I won't help just any Tom, Dick and Harry who comes along, though. I need to see some talent, some real acting chops, before I'll pass along a kind word to the casting team.
And sometimes these guys in the younger generation just don't make the final cut.
Dennis is a good example. Blue eyes, curly hair, flat belly, cute butt - the kind of stuff that some can translate to screen presence. I wanted to get a sense of his abilities, so I invited him over to my place.
We were playing pool and drinking Cokes with just a teensy bit of whiskey when I put Dennis to the test. He was lining up a shot when I came up behind him, grabbed his upper arms and made the offer.
"Dennis," I whispered as my tongue flicked against his ear. "I'm thinking of playing John Wayne Gacy in a movie, and I think you'd be perfect for a part."
"Uh, Mr. Sp ..." he managed before I cut him off.
"Call me Kevin," I said in a low voice that I thought might soothe him.
But it didn't. He tried to jump off the stool he'd been using in order to play pool, but I didn't let go. I'm pretty sure I dislocated both shoulders.
You'd think it was the end of the world the way he reacted, crying and everything, and he just flat freaked out when I tried to help by putting my right hand down the front of his pants.
Long story short, I never made that movie about Gacy but I did kind of act it out at home. My place doesn't have a crawl space, but it does have a big back yard with a new mound covered with roses.
And since I'm now living life as an openly gay man, I don't mind telling you I tend to them daily. Those pink roses are just precious.
Kevin S.
Beverly Hills

 

[jezzilee]

~blinks~

​

 

[Hypoxia]

Y'all could bundle these and submit them for posting here, y'know.

 

[jezzilee]

Y'all could bundle these and submit them for posting here, y'know.

Kinda fun having a thread with them where you don't have to wait for approval and anyone can post one...

 

[jezzilee]

https://78.media.tumblr.com/af73534252004562daff09c0c2c4501e/tumblr_ns3l3eUGnh1utlgh5o1_500.gif​

We were vacationing with friends. It was a very late night. Everyone in the house was still sleeping but when I rolled over and opened my eyes he was not there. I thought perhaps he had gone for a walk as was his early morning custom. I threw on one of his shirts and went downstairs. I walked to the counter and was wrapped in his strong arms, he had come up quietly behind me.

His hand over my mouth, he whispered in my ear…another lesson in silence babygirl. With that he turned me around and threw me up on the counter, ripping the shirt off and sending buttons flying.

My eyes were wide open as made me fully aware of what he wanted. He Spread my legs and pushed me back on the counter. Quickly he dropped his shorts and his fully hard cock sprang forth. No pretense, no foreplay, he shoved that beautiful dick inside my glistening wet snatch and began to roughly fuck me right there on the counter. I bit my lip, holding my breath hips thrusting to meet him. Squealing softly through closed lips, my eyes telling the tale, so hard to be quiet, he knew this was torture for me. Reading my body language, knowing me so well, he knew I was about to cream his cock and he grabbed my hips, thrusting deep, holding it there while I squeezed him over and over. He thrust again, deep, hard, holding it in for a beat, then again, and again…. until I came undone, silently cumming so hard on his cock, and in that instant, he filled me.

Smiling, he took me by the hand and helped me off of the counter. We left the buttons and hurried back to our room as we heard a door open down the hall. I had to wonder, will they catch the scent? Will they know? Will the buttons give us away?

 

[Super-Surprise]

We were vacationing with friends. It was a very late night. Everyone in the house was still sleeping but when I rolled over and opened my eyes... I had to wonder, will they catch the scent? Will they know? Will the buttons give us away?

Some how I get the feeling that this story isn't just fiction, but moreso one of Jezzi's wild real-life adventures!

 

[barefootgirl69]

Dear Lithouse Forum,

I just started me second year of college, and it is nothing like the first! Everyone had told me the first year would be bad, but is went much smoother than what this one has been in the first few months.

During my first year, my English professor was kind enough to give me some pointers. He had asked me to see him during office hours one day and, while I was there, he let me know that the policy wasn't to wear panties during class. Up until then I was putting them on just like I had done every day at home. This being California and all, the weather was warmer and they were unnecessary.

Then, he began to help me with my vocabulary. Who new that 'projectile' was more than just the vomiting the kid did when I babysat the summer before school? I'm still not sure which on shot farther, but after two semesters, I have a pretty good idea.

Another word he helped me with was 'blow'. I always thought it meant just the wind or something you did when the candles were burning out. I tell you, this was something I had never heard of, and neither had my mama. She was shocked when I told her what I'd been learning. She was terribly upset about not knowing, apparently, because she ran from the room calling for my pa. I suppose they worked it out because when they both came back in the kitchen for dinner, they had smiles on their faces.

Anyway, like I said, my first year was pretty easy. This year, I have a new teacher and she was pretty offended when I told her I was willing to improve my grades and get some private tutoring from her. I will tell you more about it after I finish my interview with the Student Disciplinary Board.

Signed,
Breezing Through College

 

[jezzilee]

Some how I get the feeling that this story isn't just fiction, but moreso one of Jezzi's wild real-life adventures!

perhaps, it is best to write what you know!

 

[jezzilee]

Dear Lithouse Forum

https://78.media.tumblr.com/e711cc6672261a18f6ca9095242ae10d/tumblr_nqw23rV9BX1utlgh5o1_500.jpg​

I walked into my bedroom fresh from the shower. I saw on the bed a pair of black stockings and a garter to go with. Nothing else, No matching bra or panties. I put them on knowing that Daddy left them for me and I love to please him. I walked down the hall glancing in the kitchen, the dining room, the living room and wondering where he was. I finally found him in my office. Sitting at the computer looking at my personal tumblr account, not our shared account, and perusing my latest pictorial choices.

He heard me enter the room and turned in the chair. It swiveled around and he smiled. “You found your gift babygirl,” he said. I smiled back about to ask where the rest of it was. His eyes lingered over my body and I did not care that I was half dressed. When his eyes got to my feet and then glanced down to the floor between his knees I dropped to mine and inserted myself where his eyes last lingered.

“Good girl.” He was pleased that with just a look I knew exactly what he wanted and followed those instructions to the tee. My hands slid to his thighs and I started to reach for his pants but he stopped me. He cupped my face in his hands and just stared into my eyes. I was thinking I had maybe done something wrong, but his smile was so soft, so caring, I could not look away. I was transfixed in his gaze.

“You are such a good babygirl,” He said, “I just want to stare into those beautiful brown eyes.” I blushed and almost averted my eyes but the noise he made in his throat told me he knew what I was going to do before even I did and I did not, which made him smile even bigger.

“What does my babygirl want today?” He asked. I knew that he knew the answer to that question as well. I MAY have a bit of an oral fixation. This need to have his cock in my mouth as much as I possibly can. “Your cock daddy, in my mouth.” I whispered.

“What’s that?” He asked cocking his head. “I want to suck your cock!” I said and he laughed because I said it a little more forcefully than I was planning on. I giggled and he slid his hand down the front of his pants. I licked my lips, breaking our eye contact watching his teasing hand. “Go ahead babygirl,” he said, “who am I to deprive you of what you love?”

I leaned in and rubbed my face all over the bulge in his pants. Inhaling his scent, my favorite scent. I kissed my way up that bulge, and when i got to the top I quickly removed all obstacles from my way and wrapped my hand around my prize. I smiled up at him as I started stroking him and sucking on his balls. I closed my eyes moaning, my mouth never happier than when I have my daddy’s sex in it. Looking up I saw my feelings were mirrored in his face. He leaned back and smiled down at me, enjoying the scene as much as I was enjoying providing it.

Our eyes barely left each other as I licked my way up his gorgeous member. He gasped as I slid the head into my mouth still stroking, I sucked the precum from the tip. His is my favorite flavor. I took in more and more until his hands were on the back of my head and he was thrusting deeper and deeper. I had to swallow his cock allowing him into my throat. Choking and gasping as he went deeper and deeper still. Swallowing again and again gripping him tightly. My eyes watering, barely able to gasp for breath as he pushed in and out deep strong strokes.

I felt his body tense, and I knew I would get that bonus. He pulled out just as he was about to fill my mouth with his cum, I sat up as he stood and stroked his cock hard and fast. I opened my mouth, sticking out my tongue. “Please daddy? Please may I have that which I desire?” I begged for it. wanting it, no, needing it… and he needed no more encouragement. He came all over my face, hitting my tongue occasionally. I smiled up at him through this marking and the look as he emptied his cock onto his babygirl made my heart melt. I felt some drip off of my chin onto my tits and I leaned down looking up at him as I grasped the breast and licked off that sweet, salty cum.

“Sitting back on my heels I said, “Thank you daddy.” and this began our night.

 

[jezzilee]

https://78.media.tumblr.com/c2a8325e4a8dcf2350afcacea420aede/tumblr_nqgizpBW3b1utlgh5o1_540.jpg​

I felt the heat instantly as Daddy’s hand came down on my left cheek. It stung a bit and I giggled. I looked over my shoulder and smiled. He raised his eyebrow and stared into my eyes as his hand found its mark on the opposite side. I gasped at the power behind the cheek reddening blow. My smile grew bigger. Daddy’s face grew sterner. I knew what I was doing, egging him on. “What color are we, girl?” He asked. “Giggling I said, “Green daddy.” My tone was slightly smarmy and again, I knew that this would only make him want to show me my place. I love it when daddy reminds me he is in charge. Three more hard cracks to each cheek and I was feeling it. It was not yet terribly painful, but I began to anticipate each blow and tense just a bit. “And now mine?” Daddy asked again. “Looking over my shoulder I smirked. “Green daddy.”

He smiled patiently. “Last time I tried to explain to you the importance of our colors. This time I am going to listen to you and not stop til you say red.” he coached. With these words he walked to the closet and pulled out a new tool of the trade. The cane. I had held the cane. I had touched it but never had it been used in our sessions. My pussy was so wet as he neared the edge of the bed. My anticipation so great that when I saw him raise the cane from the corner of my eye I tensed and moved as it came down and it hit me on my upper thigh. I winced. “Hold still babygirl,” Daddy said, and I did. the cane came down softly at first, but as the number of strikes grew so did the pain. I whimpered, “Color?” he asked. I am stubborn. “Green!” I said through gritted teeth. “Oh mine, remember what I said.” The cane came down again. Again. Again. I had tears in my eyes and he asked the question of me once more. “Yellow,” I said as my voice was trembling and tears welled in my eyes. Daddy rubbed my red ass, but I had not quite acquiesced. The cane came down three times more and I on the third I cried out “Red, daddy Red!”

My arms at my sides, I felt daddy take my hand and I felt elation. I felt I had done a very good job. I loved that daddy had allowed me to take control of my pain level this time and that I could help him push me just past my pain threshold and take that much more.

I looked up at daddy and whispered, “please?” He nodded and I dropped his hand. Swinging around on my belly I quickly undid daddy’s pants and had his cock in my mouth. I knew the image of my freshly spanked ass would be a great turn on as I looked up at him with my mouth full of his cock. I got daddy off in record time but refused to give up his dick, sucking him hard all over again. This time Daddy pulled out and turned me around. Hands and knees at the edge of the bed while he buried his cock in his greedy little slut. His hands kneading my still blazing red ass cheeks, the tenderness beneath those strong fingers, his gorgeous cock buried balls deep, one hand reached up and grabbed me by the hair roughly jerking my head back, looking me in the eye and growling, “Now babygirl, cum on my cock!” Shivering shaking, squeezing his dick with my tight little cunt, grinding back, muscles tensing I screamed as I came, he growled again and was filling me with his cum as I milked him. Cumming together until he fell on top of me, pinning me to the bed, whispering in my ear, sweet words as I continued to shake and moan and mewl and whimper, my body still reacting, keeping his cock tightly encased inside me. His arms came around me pulling us on our sides, spooning, his lips kissing my cheek, my shoulder, my neck. We laid there for a while just enjoying our post coital bliss. Then daddy whispered in my ear, “Time for your bath babygirl,” And I smiled, knowing the tenderness that always followed our training sessions, was just ahead.