From news.csd.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-fw-12.sprintlink.net!panix!newsfeed.internetmci.com!btnet!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!mail2news.demon.co.uk!Dialup102.colnny1.Capital.NET Sun Sep 15 16:42:36 1996 Path: news.csd.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-fw-12.sprintlink.net!panix!newsfeed.internetmci.com!btnet!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!mail2news.demon.co.uk!Dialup102.colnny1.Capital.NET From: PupDoesIt Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: (fwd) SMOOTH OPERATION 1/2 (M/M, M/M, narcissism, forced shaving, bondage, jo, sex) Date: Tue, 03 Sep 96 23:27:47 GMT Lines: 739 Message-ID: <199609032328.TAA02881@Omega.Capital.Net> X-NNTP-Posting-Host: Dialup102.colnny1.Capital.NET X-Mail2News-Path: Omega.Capital.NET!Dialup102.colnny1.Capital.NET Message-ID: <190456Z22041996@anon.penet.fi> Path: news.cencom.net!news.sprintlink.net!news.comm.net!imci5!pull-feed.internetmci.com!news.internetMCI.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in2.uu.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories From: an179397@anon.penet.fi (Stroker Al) X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous forwarding service Reply-To: an179397@anon.penet.fi Date: Mon, 22 Apr 1996 19:02:05 UTC Subject: SMOOTH OPERATION 1/2 (M/M, M/M, narcissism, forced shaving, bondage, jo, sex) Lines: 480 Status: N WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A SEXUALLY EXPLICIT FICTIONAL STORY. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, OR IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED IN READING ABOUT SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SITUATIONS AND ACTIVITIES.. To the alt.sex.stories reader: This is the second in a series of stories dealing mainly with male to male sexuality, though the series will contain some male/female sex and the thoughts, fantasies and activities of bisexual characters as well. Friday 13" #2 : Smooth Operation By Stroker Al Brad Carson was hands down the hairiest fucker among the entire staff of Camp Christopher. He had a fairly ordinary build, but his ever-bronze skin was well-toned and as taught as a painter's stretched canvas -- the ideal surface to display the hirsuite artistry of the dense black fur that covered his chest, belly, thighs and forearms in graceful, swirling Van Gogh patterns. Each week dozens of campers developed obvious boyhood crushes on him. After one look at him directing canoe paddling practice at the beach in nothing but his red Speedos, or hiking with his t-shirt tied around his waist, he became their ideal embodiment of manhood simply by virtue of his hairiness, like some kind of local Tom Sellack, and they'd respond in all kinds of ways, from just following him around like devoted, love-starved little brothers and hanging on his every word and movement, to even sending him gushy little notes and letters long after they'd returned home from their weeks at camp. Though flattered as Brad was by such attention from adolescents in their ambiguous early stages of sexual development, he took a much greater interest in the equally rapt attentions of his fellow staff members, who were considerably more physically and emotionally developed, and thus, not only knew damned well what they desired in him but were also fully equipped to do something about it. By halfway through July he'd drawn more men into bed with him than any other counselor, including those with handsomer faces and more perfectly sculpted bodies. And lots of the guys he boffed were even straight dudes who'd first needed a half dozen beers to loosen up into the horny tomcats they were at heart and indulge their savage drives to rub dicks with the furry beast while using the coarse mat on his chest as a scratching post. Plus, Brad had also hosed one of the three women on staff, while another, the camp director's wife, was starting to show him increasing interest. Brad loved how everybody had their own way of playing in his hair, some open in their fascination with it and others doing their best to hide it. His queer buddies usually ended up jizzin all over it and licking it clean with their tongues, which he loved. He'd push their faces deep into the cleft between his pecs as they hungrily licked up their jock messes. The babe, who worked as an assistant cook, merely fluffed curls of his chest hair with two of her slender red polished fingernails as she lay against him in his bunk after screwing. The straight boys, most of whom happened to be relatively smooth, usually got off on the totality of his bristly maleness and would grind their whole bodies against his, as if they were buffing their own muscles and using Brad like a human brush, or as if they were somehow trying to chafe it all off of him and transfer it to themselves. Exhausting as this sometimes was, he seemed to like doing those dudes the best. But not everyone in the world, it turned out, was enslaved by this incredibly common but unimaginative obsession with this most obvious of male secondary sex characteristics. Brad noticed that there were a few attractive and available men on staff who seemed totally indifferent to him physically. At first he assumed that they were just super-straight men, but that didn't explain why he couldn't even detect any envy in their eyes, which in his experience was often more prevalent among other men than attraction towards him. The shocking truth only occurred to him one morning in July when one of these inscrutable men, his cabinmate, Jerome, happened to walk in on Brad coming out of a stall in the shower room naked and dripping wet. "Jeez, you're hairier than an ape! " Jerome cried as he stared for a moment at the fluid waves of black that were wetly plastered all over Brad's limbs chest and abdomen. "Yes, I guess I am hairier than you, aren't I?" Brad retorted, less in response to Jerome's words than to what sounded like genuine disgust in the guy's tone. "No question about that," Jerome smirked, though in a less disdainful and more humorous manner. "I guess not all members of a species evolve at the same rate." Brad bellowed with laughter as he toweled off. "Fuck you, you hairless wonder. Don't talk Darwin to me when it's obvious that you're just jealous." Jerome finished pulling his t-shirt over his head and off before shaking his head and smiling. "I'm afraid not, Papa Bear. Why the hell would I want any more body hair than I already have? It's a pain in the ass as it is." "What hair? You don't even have any!" sneered Brad in gleeful exaggeration. Jerome in fact had the light scatterings of fine hair here and there in amounts that were quite average for men in their early twenties. Jerome ignored the comment, revealing no apparent insecurity about his own body hair. "What use does it have other than aesthetic?" he asked instead. "I bet it even gets in your way sometimes." "Girls love it," Brad said, and then fixed Jerome with a stare. "Some guys love it, too," he whispered, leering menacingly. "Yeah, well some guys prefer their men smooth," Jerome shot back, his lips curling in a taunt that even as it cleared up for Brad the mystery of Jerome's sexual leanings, made it just as clear that Brad had no chance of ever getting him into bed. "Yeah sure. Well, everybody's gotta work with what they've got," Brad muttered, secretly rather downtrodden by Jerome's remarks. He wasn't used to being rejected, even if only by implication. He watched absently under his towel as Jerome shrugged and continued to undress for his shower. Brad was unaware that his promiscuity and pride were even then conspiring to create a new obsession in the rather appealing yet inaccessible male form that was now stripping buck naked in front of him. Jerome had a meaty, swinging dick that hung low over a set of ample pink balls, surrounded by a wreath of curly light brown bush hair. His thighs were thick and strong looking, while his calves were light and graceful. His chest was filled out and firm, and he had strong looking arms. In total, he was very hot to look at -- a fact that Brad was only now fully realizing after having spent his energy elsewhere while sharing a cabin for two weeks with a guy who under his very nose had been among the hottest in the camp all along. Of course they were sharing the space with four other guys, most of whom were quite distractingly good looking themselves, but now, as he watched the naked stud saunter off to the showers Brad couldn't fathom how Jerome could have escaped his full attention for so long. His tight little rounded ass looked especially fine as he whistled his way into the shower room. Brad dressed and listened to Jerome showering and whistling , and he imagined how those tight, smooth ass cheeks would feel gripped in his hands -- or gripping his dick! Jerome was still showering and whistling when Brad left, the image of his cabinmate's buns burning in his brain. The wooden door creaked behind him and shut. Inside, at the opposite end of the shower room was a row of toilet stalls, one of which had been occupied throughout the guys' conversation, though neither had noticed. If they'd looked, they could have seen a pair of black tennis shoes under a pair of worn blue jeans pulled down and bunched around two sturdy ankles and calves. If Jerome had not been whistling and running the shower water, the slappy sound of a big fat hard dick being stroked inside the stall could have been heard. The guy jacking off inside began breathing harder and harder and jerking away until he gasped and squirted jets of hot spermy semen out of his erect dick and splattered the dirty pictures and obscenities carved into the wooden walls, now wet with the creamy cum of a Camp Christopher legend. But it wasn't the graffiti that made this horny prick toss his rank, crawly wad. It was an idea he'd suddenly come up with while thinking about those dirty minded queer boys who'd let a little thing like hairiness prevent them from hosing each other down the way they were born to do. He'd thought of a way to bring their bare hides together and get them to make the beast with two backs all night, and maybe every night for the rest of the summer, if all went well. Brad was showering again the next day at about the same time, in the subconscious hope that Jerome would follow a similar routine. They'd made small talk last night in the cabin, which assured Brad that there was no real anger or disdain coming from Jerome toward him, but it was clear that the dude remained unimpressed with the prospect of balling with a twenty-two year old "daddy" type. So the suddenly self-conscious Brad had hopped into bed wearing a t-shirt and shorts for the first time that summer instead of doing his usual naked strut from the clothes basket to his bunk. He had licked his lips and sighed while watching Jerome reach up to pull the cord to extinguish the light, stretching his impressive frame, wearing only his handsomely stuffed blue bikini briefs, packed as they were with that fine set of dick and balls that had sadly been decreed off limits to hairy dudes. As Brad soaped his chest and his chubby up with lather and dreamed about Jerome, he suddenly recognized the same whistling he'd heard yesterday. Ah, he was going to get another chance to see the hunk in the raw, and this time with water streaming across the fine smooth curves of his muscles. And this time Brad would be in there with him, exposed in his horny hairiness and now with a major woody that would let this dude know how badly he was wanted by him. Unwilling to bear certain rejection, Brad sighed and resolved to face away from Jerome and merely try to sneak a good look at him at some point and hopefully be content with that. He continued to soap himself as the whistling grew louder and entered the communal shower stall. He closed his eyes and shoved both hands down into his soapy crotch to keep his stiff dick from poking up into the air and exposing him to ridicule. To his surprise, Jerome's whistle seemed to be coming nearer and nearer to him. For a moment the wild notion came to him that Jerome had been lying all along and was secretly attracted to him. But the dude had definitely not been faking, he remembered. So what was this all about, he wondered as the whistle sounded directly behind him, only inches from the back of his neck. Brad fought all of his instincts to turn around and confront Jerome, and kept facing the corner, dripping with hot shower water and soapy lather. Suddenly the whistle stopped and two powerful arms gripped his biceps from behind, making him gasp. A strange voice that was definitely not Jerome's spoke. "Don't move, fucker, or y r dead." Brad's eyes flashed open but the iron grip of the man behind him, which prevented him from raising his arms, induced him to keep looking straight ahead. As he stood there stiffly, he felt the large naked frame of the man behind him press against him, a hard chest, a big, soft dick and big balls against his ass. Then, when he saw the shiny metal object out of the corner of his eye, being held up in one of the man's hands, he thought the worst--that he was gonna get fucked up the ass there in the shower by this thug, and he wasn't even in prison, and he hadn't even dropped the soap! And then the opened, sharp-looking razor appeared in front of him, at the level of his neck. "No. No, damn it, Don't you even think about it," he hissed. "You'll never get away with this, you fuckin' pig, if you think you're gonna fuck me and live..." "Who said anything about fucking? I'll leave that to you boys," the voice answered. I'm here to give you a shave, partner. Now hold as still as you can or you'll get cut to ribbons!" "A shave? I already shaved this morning, you fucking lunatic! Let me go!" "I think you missed a few spots, Brad," said the voice. "Some very big patches, actually. Like right here !" And then, as Brad attempted a strangled cry of terror, the man brought the razor down firmly just under Brad's neck and scraped the blade downward from Brad's clavicle, down his right pec, down stomach and abdominal muscles, coming to rest finally just at the top of his bush, over the root of his dick. "You see what I mean, Brad? Look at all this hair!" The hand raised the blade back up in front of Brad's face and he watched as large soapy clumps of black hair fell off the edge of the blade and splatted audibly onto the shower floor, before being whisked apart by shower spray and swept toward the drain. "What the fuck are you doing?" he cried. "Who are you? And how do you know my name?" "Never mind, fucker, just hold still." The blade scraped down Brad's frontside again, this time on his left. He looked down to see huge swathes cut through his forested chest and stomach, exposing surfaces of skin that hadn't been fully bare since 7th grade. He looked like a lawn that had been mowed by a drunken neighbor boy. "My chest! My chest! " he wailed. "You moron, you're making it look ridiculous! It'll take months to grow that back! Why are you doing this, you pervert! Did Jerome send you?" The man laughed. "Nobody sends me, pal. I call the shots around here. I ain't saying the guy won't like what he sees, but the truth is he don't know nothing about me. Now raise both your arms. Up high." Brad did as he was told and watched helplessly as the man proceeded to make a number of smaller, shorter sweeps of the blade down and around the contours of his nervously heaving chest and stomach. He felt like crying to see his beautiful black hair, his pride and symbol of his manhood, falling away from his body in streams of soapy water. He held his breath as the razor deftly circled his nipples, one after the other, stripping them of their bushy camouflage leaving them a naked, tender pink that struck Brad as shockingly feminine. Then he felt a movement between his legs and looked down to see what appeared to be a second penis emerging between them underneath his balls. Obviously it belonged to the man, but even having come from between Brad's legs it protruded a good 6 or 7 inches -- as long as Brad's entire hose! "Hey, I thought you said you weren't gonna..." The man laughed. "Sorry, pal. Don't mind my dick. I'm really gettin' into this, though, you know? I didn't realize shaving a guy's hair off was gonna turn me on like this. You oughta try it sometime, bud." "No thanks," grumbled Brad. "It don't do nothing for ya? Funny, I don't notice you going limp or anything. " Brad didn't say anything. He was feeling so humiliated by the idea of the shaving that he couldn't deal with any possible pleasant physical sensations that might have been accompanying the loss of his hair. It was true that he was harder than ever, but he was also quite upset. He hadn't realized the extent to which he'd pegged his concept of masculinity and his sexual appeal onto his hairiness. He looked down at the man's dick head, bobbing up and down just beneath his own, and saw that it had the number 13 tattooed on it. It reminded him of some bullshit story he'd heard once around a campfire, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it had come. Suddenly the razor was withdrawn and Brad felt the man's dick just as suddenly pull back out from between his legs. "Okay Brad, spread yer legs apart and bend over. Grab onto yer ankles and hold yourself in that position 'til I finish." "No way, man," Brad hissed. "Why should I?" "Look, pal. Yer gonna hafta bend over for me for one purpose or another before I let you outta here, but the choice is still yours. You wanna get shaved or fucked?" "Neither, damn it!" Brad grumbled. Then, in resignation, he slowly slid his legs apart and bent forward to seize both of his ankles. "Good man." said the guy. Brad watched him crouch down behind him and run the razor carefully down the insides and outsides of his thighs and calves, denuding them as completely as if he had been grooming Brad for a professional bike race. He also removed a thick patch of hair from the small of his back, just above his ass. Throughout this process the man had frequently soaped up Brad's skin to insure a smooth, cut-free shave. Despite himself, Brad enjoyed the feel of the man's soapy fingers on his skin, and he felt his dick throb each time. Soon the only hair that remained on Brad's body below the neck was his bush, the hair on his ass and the hair on his balls. The man had even done his armpits and forearms. "Now hold extra still, Brad," he cautioned as he slipped the cool steel razor between Brad's ass cheeks. Brad's asshole pucker spasmed nervously, but after only a couple tingling scrapes of the razor, the crack of his ass was as smooth as on the day he was born. Seconds later the entire surface of his white ass was as bald as Yul Brynner's head. "Okay, now stand up and lemme look at ya." Brad stood up, his face still red from the blood that had rushed to it while bending over. He faced the man with the 13" dick and they took good long looks at one another. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Looks like I got pretty much everything," the man said, stroking his own dick with one hand and holding the razor down at his side with the other. "Though you might have to touch up a few spots yourself." Not bad was what Brad was thinking, too, but not about his own appearance (he wasn't ready to deal with that yet). He was admiring the good looks (if a little ragged) of the mysterious older stud in front of him, who, if he hadn't made him so angry, he would have thoroughly enjoyed hosing. Brad felt the completely smooth surfaces of his freshly shaved skin with his fingertips for the first time. He guessed that he looked bizarre. "Well aren't you just fucking generous, you pervert!" he hissed. "That's me, buddy boy. And believe me, I done worse than this here before," the man grinned, still leisurely pumping his stiff salami. "What else did you do, big man, rape some poor schmuck after threatening him with your fuckin razor blade ? Well you can fuck yourself, asshole!" Brad cried. The man laughed. "How'd you know I can fuck myself? Have you been spyin' on me, ya little devil? Well, ya shouldn't blame me, ya know, 'cause it gets kind lonely up here in the winter, and ya find yourself doing all kinds of crazy things to get off. " Brad blinked and seethed in anger, but said nothing. "Naw, seriously, buddy, I was bluffin' about screwin' ya," the man went on. "I wouldn't a said nuthin if ya hadn't brought it up first. I never fuck nobody unless they really want it. And even then, they gotta beg me to do it," he said, shaking his enormous cock at Brad, " 'cause this here's a more dangerous weapon than any razor." Then he grinned again, as if struck by a fresh idea, and, to Brad's astonishment, handed the razor to him. "Now let's see what kinda man you are when the razor's in your hand," he said. Brad stared at the razor with his jaw open, then looked back at the man, who stretched his arms above his head and shifted his weight onto one leg to imitate the languid, contraposto pose of a Greek statue. "You're fucking crazy," Brad murmured. "Yessir, ah am. And how 'bout you, are you a little crazy, too? Or a lot?" he taunted mildly, his eyes twinkling. "Whatcha gonna do with that thing, slice mah tits off? Slide the blade up mah ass? Slash my throat? Castrate me? Chop mah big weenie down ta size?" Brad stepped over to the man, gripping the razor. He looked his hunky form over from head to toe, completely undecided about what to do. The guy was hairy, but not nearly as much as Brad had been. Shaving him wouldn't give him the satisfaction of payback that he craved. Then his eyes settled on the man's bush--thick, dark and wiry, framing the wrist-thick root of his jutting dick. He reached back to the shower caddy that he'd been using and grabbed his bar of soap and tossed it to the man, who caught it in one hand. "Lather up your bush," Brad ordered. The man nodded, stepping into the flow of the shower to wet himself. "Sounds like mah pubes are history, huh?" he said, lathering his crotch. Brad nodded. "I'm gonna pussify you, fucker!" The man laughed and stepped out from under the water and approached Brad, putting his hands back up over his head and bracing his legs slightly apart. His big rod bobbed up and down when he stopped in position. Brad cautiously knelt on one knee and gently pushed the huge dick forward and held it out of the way before placing the razor against the man's soapy bush. Then he scraped the blade slowly downward and watched the thick brown tufts of hair separate from the man's skin. After only five or six passes of the blade, the man's bush was totally gone. "Huh. Now my rat's bald," he chuckled. "Well that's a new one for me, Brad You're mighty handy with that razor. Gonna be a barber some day?" Brad stared at the sculpted, smooth flesh below the man's navel that he'd just completely exposed to the air. Shorn of pubic hair but with the rest of his body intact, the man looked freakish, like some 6th grader on steroids. With a few flicks of the blade, Brad had made a full adult stud resemble a prepubescent kid -- however enormously hung a kid he was. Brad relished the thrilling feeling of the control he had exercised. It made his dick stiffen, and prompted him to grip the man's dick in response, feeling its girth for the first time. "A barber -- that's a good idea," he said, rising to his feet. "And you're my first customer. You've had your shave, and now it's time for your haircut." With a sparkle in his eyes the man began rubbing Brad's shoulder and flexing his dick, which Brad continued to stroke with his fist. "A little off the top, eh, partner? Guess I'm 'bout due for a trim." Brad reached up and grabbed a handful of the man's tangled mop of black hair. "I'm gonna give you more than a trim, Zeke. It's all coming off. Just like your bush, pal. Every strand. Now kneel down ." The hunk hesitated. looking Brad in the eye to make sure he was serious. "You really gonna make me bald? With that?" he laughed. Brad nodded. "On your knees. Now." The man laughed again, a bit nervously. "Aw, what the hell, this oughta be wild, " he finally said, dropping to his knees on the concrete floor in front of Brad and tilting his head forward. Brad yanked the man's head back by a thick lock of hair, as if he were a savage preparing to scalp a captive. Then he hacked off the lock with a sweep of the razor. The man blinked and gazed up at Brad with intensified lust. "You can be a rough son of a bitch, can't you?" Brad continued hacking away at the man's mane, reducing it to a soapy carpet of short nappy brown clumps. As Brad cut away his hair, the man ran his strong hands up and down Brad's newly smooth legs and played with his balls and dick. Brad thrilled at the sensation and had to stop him a number of times. "You'd better knock that off or I'm going to nick your skull," he warned. Then he grabbed a bottle of shampoo and lathered the ragged remains of the man's head hair into a foamy helmet. Then he ordered the man to bend his head forward and began to shave his scalp clean with the razor. Frequently he had to clear away cuttings by dashing handfuls of water from the shower over the man's head, causing his victim to splutter and gasp as the soapy water and hair washed down over his face, and into his eyes and mouth. Fifteen minutes later Brad was finished. Disengaging himself from the man's roving hands, he stood back, smiling triumphantly to look at his work. "Now the rat's really bald, " he grinned. The man knelt there looking up at Brad like a sheep that had just been shorn, his head now as hairless as his crotch. "How bad do I look?" he asked. Brad answered truthfully, "Not bad at all. Kinda hot, really. Better than before, in any case." He went over to his dopp kit and withdrew a hand mirror. "Look for yourself" The man looked doubtfully in the mirror, saying "Huh," over and over as he turned it to get a glimpse from every angle. brad came back to him and began to rub the skin of his head and crotch where he had shaved the man. The man put down the mirror and turned to Brad in a soapy embrace. They began jacking each other freely and energetically. The man bent his head down to kiss and lick the newly smooth surface of Brad's chest and tits, causing Brad to feel sensations unlike anything he'd ever felt before. All that hair had dulled the sensitivity of his skin, it seemed. His nipples got hard instantly with the touch of the bald man's hot tongue. Then Brad pushed him back down to his knees and started to massage his naked scalp with his dick and balls. The man licked at his still-hairy nuts while Brad pushed his dick against his face again and again. Outside someone was banging on the doors to get into the shower, but the man had apparently locked it. He and Brad ignored the cries and continued their razor boy face off. "Got a donation for ya, you countrified 'hairless krishna,' if you want it. You want me to squirt a generous wad of my dickwax onto your hot dome, so I can polish it up nice and shiny? Eh, fucker? Whaddaya say?" Brad panted, his breath shortening with excitement as he jacked his dick furiously against the man's face. The dude was pumping his own salami like mad as well. "You talk big, pal," he gasped, "but let's see some real jizz come outta that pea shooter. Cover my fuckin' head, buddy. C'mon, spew!" "You want it? Okay, you asked for it. Here it comes, Kojack. Look out, man here--it--comessssssss--uhhhh!!!" Brad sputtered as he finally began to pump great jets of spermy spunk all over the man's shaved bald head. Brad gasped in pleasure as he watched the thick gloppy wads of his come dribble down on all sides of the stud's head and fall upon his ears, eyelids nose and lips. He slammed his throbbing prick hard against the bald head and flopped it around in the splashy, sticky flood of come, jacking himself even more with the slick man-slopped natural lube that was shooting out of his prick. Finally, exhausted, he fell back on to his ass on the shower floor and sat, trying to catch his breath. But in a flash a hot wet cannonball of an object smashed into his chest and knocked him down into a supine position on the cool, wet concrete. It was the dude's spooged up head, of course, rubbing him down like a big bottle of roll-on deodorant. Brad writhed with unheard of sensations as the smooth, rounded head ground slimy jizz into his hairless skin. His tits perked up and tingled as they got tweaked like pinball bumpers. He felt the dude's king-size prick rutting against his chest and belly and he grabbed it to pump and help him along. Within a minute or two, the dude was tossing his lava load all over Brad and sliding around in it on top of him like they were hot oil wrestling or something. Cocks crashing, balls banging, pecs grinding, and quarts of hot sex juice squirting out from between their hot sweating bodies like excess secret sauce on a big Mac when you slam its bun down. As the two dudes lay panting on one another under the stream of the shower, the bald one with the now hairless dick picked up the razor that had long ago dropped from the other's hands. "There's just one more thing you're gonna have to let me do," he said to Brad, holding the gently below his chin to show that he meant business. "What's that?" asked Brad. "Get dressed and come with me and I'll show you," he replied. (end part one of two) --****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--***ATTENTION*** Your e-mail reply to this message WILL be *automatically* ANONYMIZED. Please, report inappropriate use to abuse@anon.penet.fi For information (incl. non-anon reply) write to help@anon.penet.fi If you have any problems, address them to admin@anon.penet.fi From ???@??? Mon Apr 29 17:15:01 1996 From ???@??? Mon Apr 29 17:21:39 1996 Path: news.cencom.net!news.sprintlink.net!nntp.primenet.com!news.cais.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!howland.reston.ans.net!ixnews1.ix.netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!news From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** ) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: MY HUSBAND AND MY EX Date: 26 Apr 1996 16:50:16 GMT Organization: Netcom Lines: 219 Message-ID: <4lqus8$56s@dfw-ixnews7.ix.netcom.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ix-dc18-21.ix.netcom.com X-NETCOM-Date: Fri Apr 26 11:50:16 AM CDT 1996 Status: N MY HUSBAND AND MY EX I was married when I was 16 and divorced when I was 19. A little bit wiser, I didn't remarry until I was 26. My first marriage probably lasted as long as it did because we hardly ever talked - we were too busy facing. We fought constantly whenever we weren't having sex though; that's why we finally split up. I eventually married by ex-husband's best friend Paul. It was kinda strange, but Paul and I remained friends with my first husband, Ron. Ron would visit quite a bit, but only when Paul was home. After a couple years, the three of us became quite close, we would joke alot, and there were a lot of sexual innuendos. Then one night a few months ago the three of us were sitting on the couch, watching television. We were relaxed and comfortable sipping wine. We had just finished watching a movie with a hot, sexy ending that set my pussy to tingling and I was ready, willing and more than able for some good facing. I think the guys must have caught a good whiff of my cunt juice or something; they seemed to know how much I wanted it. Ron put his hand on my thigh, "Does she still like to fuck and suck as much as she used to?" he asked Paul. Paul nodded. "She's the hottest girl I have ever met." "Oh come on", I murmured. "Your just saying that." Ron continued. "Does she still squeal and moan and you take her doggy-style?" "And squirm, too." answered my husband. "When I ram it up her snatch, she's panting and begging for more." Talking dirty to me is like stirring my molten honeypot with a thick middle finger, and they both knew it. I realized that they must have talked about this between themselves, it was too well planned. However, I was so facing horny, I wasn't about to stop them. My ex said, "She's always had a magnificent body." He hungrily gazed at my figure, staring particularly hard at my firm, pert breasts. My husband was rubbing my back, "And her pussy is still as tight and slick as a teenagers." "No!" exclaimed Ron in mock disbelief. "Would you like to find out"? I challenged him. "I thought you'd never ask," said my ex-husband, grinning. Ron slipped my blouse from my shoulders and kissed my throat passionately. He knew how sensitive I was there, and how I'd be trembling in just minutes. Meanwhile, Paul yanked off my bra, revealing my snowy tits with their cherry red nipples. Slowly Ron moved from my throat to a titty, causing it to get all tight with desire. The nipple immediately became erect, and he sucked it into his mouth. He knew how that excited me, and he kept doing it until I moaned and writhed on the sofa. My first husband them moved his mouth downward. He pulled off my jeans, and my panties soon followed. My pussy was already dripping, and I trembled with anticipation. My second husband started to kiss and fondle my melons while Ron worked his way down to my hot crotch. Ron's fingers teased my swollen clit. Then he slithered that long tongue of his deep into my honeypot. There was something so exciting about having two guys who both knew how to really get me going. They both laughed heartily when I started to groan, but I just ignored them. It felt so good to have two mouths pleasuring me, two tongues flicking over my hot flesh and four hands teasing my clit and nips. I exploded as the two guys played with my overwrought body. I groaned and twisted and writhed as my cunny spasmed, and my juices gushed over my ex's cheeks. I sucked on my husband's tongue as my orgasm crashed through me. "That's just the first time," Paul whispered in my ear. "My turn," said my good natured ex. We all laughed. "On your hands and knees, wench," he demanded. He pulled me onto the couch until I was on all fours, my head cradled in my husband's lap. I unzipped Paul's pants, and his big hair cock sprang out, rock- hard and ready for action. When I rubbed my lips over the head of his rod, he gasped, and the crown seemed to swell even more. I took the head between my lips and sucked him deep into my mouth, relaxing my throat so that I could taste an extra inch or three. Paul is hung like a horse, so I couldn't take all of it down my throat but I was pretty proud of my cocksucking ability, and my husband sure wasn't complaining. I took my fingers and gently grasped the base of his prod, then gave him a gentle jerk. Gently I caressed his balls. Every now and then I would run my tongue around the crown of his swollen shaft, then bob up and down once again. Suddenly, from behind, I felt Ron's fingers probe my clean-shaven cunt. He held my pussy lips apart, and I felt him press the tip of his hard rod against my fuckhole. He plunged deep into me, yanking a gasp of pleasure from my throat. Holding my hips, he thrust into me repeatedly, and I rocked back and forth in time to his rampaging lust. "Your tight," he gasped. "She is a tight as a teenager!" ----- - 3 - Proudly, I tightened my inner muscles even more. His huge prick was slamming into my snatch, causing delicious sensations to flicker through my lovehole. I knew I wouldn't be able to last long with such good facing going on. My throbbing quiche made swampy, sticky sounds as my ex husband pounded and pounded into my snatch. My husband as he stroked my hair and massaged my tits. "You're so beautiful when your being fucked by a giant, thick cock like that." he whispered to me. I positively glowed with the compliment and lifted my ass higher and wiggled it so that my husband could really watch Ron poke me. Ron's energy was boundless as he thrust his huge fuckstick into me. Grunting, gripping my hips, he hammered away for what seemed like hours, and I loved every single moment of the assault. I knew my husband wanted to come at the same time as Ron, so I slowed down my tongue action on Paul's tool. At last my ex-husband shouted, "I'm going to shoot my creamy load deep into that gorgeous gash of yours," so I sped up the hand-and- mouth job I was pleasuring my husband with. The two exploded in a shower of glorious jizz, and I came with them. My husband pumped his semen into my mouth, filling me with his salty load, I squeezed his cock hard, as I gobbled his sex sauce, and was rewarded with more spurts. Deep in my vagina, I could feel my ex's shaft spasming. As usual, he had a gallon of cream. I gripped his manhood with my pussy and milked him dry. Before the night was out, the two of them had worn me out, taking turns with my muff and mouth. We even did a beautiful sex sandwich that had me coming for a full 15 minutes. That was only the beginning. Ron comes over almost every evening now and our threesomes get wilder and wilder. I suppose I should feel like a little slut or something, but I love it so much. Two cocks are twice as nice. Pup (when in person) It is morning in Africa. PupDoesIt (on IRC) As the sun rises on the plain the thwhite@capital.net gazelle awakens knowing if it Tom cannot outrun the fastest lion Thomas H. White it will die. Albany, NY and Tupper Lake, NY It is morning in Africa. The lion awakens knowing if it can't outrun the slowest gazelle the lion and its family will die. It is morning in Africa and you had better be running.