Gay Erotic Stories

You should be 18 to read this. It is a MIKE HUNT story and there is sex here. But I mostly write these ditties with you readers squarely in mind. And there's usually some decent rock-and-roll fucking or other weird shit going on. Not this time. I wrote this one for me. And for her. If you're looking for that heavy breathing funny bunny mambo action try someone else's. Or wait 'til next time. I'm not retiring or anything, I just wanted to put a personal one up on the board. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Some Things Just Happen - by MIKE HUNT -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Some things just happen. People call it fate. Others think it's luck. Me? I think some things just happen. It's not like there has to be a reason for everything. Like you're at your town's 4th of July celebration, and there are hundreds of people all sitting around on blankets. It's a warm night, maybe a little too muggy, but OK because there's a breeze. And you're walking around because you're there alone. You stop at a corner to decide where to go and you look down and lo and behold you see a couple of girls talking to each other just to your left. As you look more closely, you notice that you have a perfect view right through the armhole of one of the girls' blouses and you can see her entire breast, right down to the nipple. Now what do you do? Of course. You stand there and get an erection. Well first you put on your sunglasses so people can't tell exactly what you're staring at. Like you're fooling somebody. And then you try to arrange yourself inside your pants for maximum comfort and minimum display, even though you want to take your dick out and play with it. And you stare. You understand that she doesn't know she's on display and would probably be mortified if she did, and that makes this chance encounter all the more exciting. And as you continue to look, you realize that she has a beautifully formed breast. Not big. The nicest ones aren't huge. They just have the right shape and definition, and are capped by a pretty pink tip. And this one is, and you know that you'll hold this memory and masturbate to it many times. It's a breast worth remembering. And then the girl suddenly turns and looks directly into your face and you know you've been caught and you're embarrassed and you don't know what to do and then she says "Hi." You're so dumbfounded you can't think of a single thing to say and you stand there like a complete asshole and she overlooks your stupidity and she says "Hi" again. Some things just happen. Or like it's summer and you're hiking in the Adirondacks and you've been going for five hours including rest stops, but you're starting to get tired. You need a break and you walk off the trail a hundred yards or so to lean on a huge fallen tree and have a candy bar when you hear some sounds from the other side of the enormous log. You look over and see two people lying on a blanket and you realize they're completely naked and they're making love. It's obvious that they're so engrossed with one another they'll never see you, and you have a perfect view through the entwined roots of the overturned tree. So you watch. The man is on top of the woman, and her legs are spread and bent at the knee, and she is apparently just lying there getting slowly and gently banged and loving it. You can see her pelvis occasionally bounce to meet the guy's thrusts, but mostly she's just lying there with her eyes squinted closed and she's taking the pounding that he's giving her. The guy is working hard. He has a nice sized erection and is sliding it into her, then withdrawing, then plunging forward again. You can't see everything, of course, but as luck would have it you have as close to a perfect view as possible given the circumstances. Some things just happen. As you watch your lovers' gentle fight you lower your zipper and pull yourself out and begin stroking, your own sexual feelings adding to the conflagration just around the corner, through the tree roots, on a blanket by your hiking trail. And when you hear the couple's groans you know that one of them is about to have an orgasm and you reach your own peak, sprinkling the mountaintop ground cover, each spurt landing in a little different place as though you are helping nature fertilize the forest. And you wonder what chance encounter brought you to this place at this time and then you remember that some things just happen. This is the story of one thing that happened to me. That's just what happens, sometimes. I was sitting on a park bench reading a paperback. I love to read. Always have. It was a late summer evening, and the breeze from the Charles River was blowing gently, just enough to keep the muggy May air a little cool. The riverbanks weren't crowded, the occasional rollerblade couple, once in a while someone walking a dog. I was far enough down river to miss most of the kids; they tended to congregate up by the Hatch Shell, especially when there was no outdoor Pops concert going on, like tonight. There was still plenty of light for reading. It was only 7:30 or so, and I had another hour, maybe more, before the onset of night. I studied my book, a light fiction romance that had been recommended to me by a girl friend. Not a girlfriend, just a friend who happened to be a girl. I was enjoying the book, especially since I never would have picked it off the bookshelf on my own. My eyes were skipping along the author's words when I heard her. "Mind if I share the bench with you?" I looked up. I saw a female form standing several feet away, still on the tarmac of the walkway. I couldn't see her face as the late afternoon sun was almost directly behind her. It wasn't that she was shadowed by the light, rather that the glare from the sun shone directly into my eyes. I raised one hand and made it into a visor at the top of my forehead. It didn't help. I guessed she was 5' 2" or so. Her figure was cute. Oh, maybe she could have used another inch at the bustline or maybe have lost an inch off her waist, but anyone who looks for such perfection in every woman he sees is just fooling himself. I'm not exactly Adonis myself and I think most all women are beautiful. They come in all sorts of interesting packages. Sometimes the discovery of the person inside is more fun than the package itself. Like Christmas morning, when the prettiest wrapping doesn't always conceal the best toy. "Sure. Sit down," I offered. "But be careful. Somebody spilled a Coke or something at the far end. The seat is still sticky. I found out the hard way." "Oh, thanks," she said. "Really. If you want to stretch out or something I'll just find another. It's OK." "Don't be silly," I said. "If I hadn't meant for you to sit down I wouldn't have said so. I'm just reading this delightful book. You being here won't disturb me in the slightest." "Thanks," she said, taking a couple steps toward the center of the wood seat. As she turned and sat down I saw her hair, naturally curly and brown as it twisted across her face. Newton's laws still held, and the hair finally caught up with the head spin, returning to its proper place, framing her head evenly on both sides. I still couldn't see her face very well because of the peculiar angle of the sun. "What are you reading?" she asked. "It's called 'Writer's Dream,'" I answered. "It's a light romance about a man and a woman who have a chance meeting on a computer bulletin board and go on to meet in person. I think they're about to get physical, but I don't know. I haven't read that far." "Oh," she said. "Sounds kind of interesting. I've talked to people by computer, but none that I find interesting enough to follow through and meet. Anyway, that's the last thing I would need to do at the moment. I'm having enough trouble in my relationship right now to do something like that." "Oh?" I echoed. "Yeah, well, we're moving. So we have all those incredible pressures. Our first house. New mortgage. Hook up the phone. Call the gas company. Make sure the electric is on. Closing date. Fight with the bank. Calls from the realtor. The list goes forever, and it's all fallen on me because he works so hard." "Lotta stress," I sympathized. "Yeah, but somebody's got to do it and it can't be him. He's a lawyer. Just out of college, trying to get going. He works 14 hour days every day. So everything gets dumped on me. Some things just happen that way, you know?" I nodded. I thought she looked young. Maybe 5 or 10 years younger than me. It was tough to tell in the light. "Anyway, I don't mind. My job is pretty regular, and I like it, so at least that part of my life is good. I mean, not that the other part isn't. I don't mean to give the wrong impression. I love him and he loves me. I just wish we had more time together." "Sure," I said. She didn't say anything. We sat in silence for a few moments. "I'm Mike," I offered, trying to break the quiet. "Huh?" she said, apparently lost in her own thoughts. "I'm Mike," I repeated. "Oh, sorry. Sure. Nice to meet you. I'm Penny." "Hi Penny. Nice night, huh?" "I suppose. Looks like there might be a storm brewing, though," she offered. We were talking about the weather. Jeez, if I can't do better than that. I tried to figure out where to take the conversation. "So you were saying? About your husband?" "Oh yeah. Well, all the stress just built up and we had a big fight and started screaming at each other and I just needed some air, so here I am. A nice night for a walk. I needed the exercise and I needed the space, at least for a while." "Ah," I said. I wasn't contributing much to the conversation, but I just couldn't seem to get in gear. There was an aura of gentility about her and I was touched by it. My usual devices for talking with women were gone, seemingly evaporated by Penny's soothing vibe. "Actually I've walked and walked, probably a few miles at least. We live on Beacon Hill at the moment. We're moving to Newton. First house. Oh, I think I said that." "You did," I offered without sarcasm. "You had a fight. You have a lot on your mind. It's OK. I remember buying my condo. It was terrifying. I must have been up every night for weeks recalculating the mortgage. Worrying about insurance and closing and everything. It's natural. Don't sweat it. What's the worst that could happen?" "Well we could move and then find out that the house has radon or the furnace could blow up or maybe the neighbor has a Doberman that eats kids or something..." I realized she was making a joke. I laughed." I'm sorry. I'm keeping you from reading," she said. "It's perfectly all right. The book will be there later. And tomorrow. You look like you could use someone to talk to. And I like to talk to people. Really. It's fine." "OK," she said tentatively. I folded the book and put it in my lap. I waited for her to begin talking again. She didn't. "Well, what should we talk about?" I finally asked, clumsily. "So where do you live?" she asked. "Right up there," I said, pointing my thumb back over my shoulder. I turned my head and realized I was pointing at the back of a Store 24. "Well not right there..." she chuckled "...more over there and a little to the left. About 500 yards upriver, 5th floor condo, river view. It's nice. Small, but nice. Big picture window in one room, bay window in the other, both looking at the Charles. It's nice." I realized I'd said 'nice' about nine times and felt stupid. "Omigod," she said, looking just over my shoulder. "Beg pardon?" I said. "What?" "Look!" She pointed to something behind me and to my left. I turned my head. A powerful black cloud was bearing down on us and we just knew we were going to get whacked. It had appeared suddenly, low and ominous from behind the Beacon Street skyline. We were trapped between the cloud and the river. "Hurry," I said. "Maybe we can make it to the Mass Ave bridge." We gathered our things and started to make a dash for it but it was too late. My book in one hand and my windbreaker flapping in the other, I outdistanced her easily. But within seconds a curtain of water suddenly loomed before us, cutting off our escape. I searched the horizon for an alternate plan. "Here," I cried. "Over here." I ran to a low hanging oak tree that seemed to offer some protection. I stood next to the trunk and whipped on my nylon jacket. She joined me just as the rain's full force hit. It was like being under Niagara Falls. We got a torrential downpour a couple of times a year, and this was one of them. Even the tree above us groaned with the onslaught, then became a sieve, letting huge streams of water cascade down on us with a violence that nature only occasionally inflicts. "Ahhhh," she cried, now being drenched by the downpour. "Come over here," I said, taking her wrist. I twisted slightly and pulled her into me and wrapped the open front of my jacket around her. Her back was to my front, and we both stared at the scene of the incredible force of the storm now attacking at full fury. With only minor effort I managed to get the zipper started and about halfway up before the material began to protest. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in to me. "Wow," I said. "Have you ever seen one of these up close and personal? Jeez, look at this rain!" There was nothing sexual going on; we were just two people trying to outlast nature's outburst. We knew that in just a few minutes it would pass. It had to. A downpour like this for more than ten minutes would cause major flooding and that hadn't happened in Back Bay in a decade, maybe more. As I held her I wrapped my arms tighter around her, my arms just below her breasts. Both her arms were inside the jacket, protected somewhat from the storm. We stayed there for several minutes, and I felt her warmth as the length of her body sank into mine beneath the oak. We talked a little, but mostly we just stood there in awe of nature's power. Finally the torrents of water seemed to ebb and I unzipped the jacket. She moved away. "Thanks for the attempt," she said. "But I don't think it did much good. Look at me." I did. She was drenched to the skin, as was I. Her clothes hung limp on her frame, her hair was plastered in tiny curls against her skin. Her forehead was covered with a wet, tangled, brown mop. "I hope I don't look at soaked as you," I offered. "You do," she shot back. We both laughed. "I have an idea," I said. "Come up to my place and dry off. It's just over there," I said pointing to my building. "I don't think so," she said. She looked uncomfortable. "Oh come on," I pleaded. "You can't be thinking of walking all the way home to Beacon Hill dripping wet like that. Anyway I can give you a ride if you want, but I have leather seats in the car, so you'll have to dry off some." She still didn't agree, though she didn't protest either. "Come on," I implored. "It's a fair offer, freely made from one drowned rat to another." She smiled, then laughed. "OK," she said. "But I really do have to get home soon. He'll start to worry." "Of course," I said. "You can call him from my place as soon as we get there. No sweat." That seemed to alleviate her fears and we began the short hike to my building. On the way I mentioned that I had one of those washer/dryer stacking combos and an extra robe she could wear. Or maybe she would just want to climb into a pair of my old jeans and a T-shirt and go home. She could always return them later. It was an innocent offer. She seemed to relax. We got to the back door of my building and went through the dim hallway to the elevator. We took the little lift to the 5th floor and departed. I fumbled with my keys. As I opened the door, the first thing I said was "Phone's over there, help yourself." I disappeared around the corner as she walked to the telephone. I poked my head back around and saw her beginning to dial. "Want a robe?" I asked. She nodded. "Hi honey?" I heard her say. "I got caught in that incredible storm and..." She paused while he talked. I couldn't hear him. "...really? You didn't get it? It was unbelievable. Like that one we drove through on the Interstate last year, remember? Yeah. Whew. I'm drenched. Luckily I found this nice girl..." She turned and looked at me and shrugged "...who's taken pity on me and I'm going to get cleaned up and dried off and then I'll come home." Silence again. "I don't know. An hour, maybe two." He was talking again. "No, I think it'll be OK. I'll call if I need you. Thanks. Love you." She hung up the phone. I surveyed myself up and down. "Oh yeah," she said. "It just seemed easier if I told him you were a girl. He's not the jealous type, but why create a problem where there isn't one?" I understood and nodded to let her know. "Here's a robe," I said. I threw her a nice clean white terricloth, big and fluffy. I threw her a matching bath towel. "You can change in there. I'll wait for you, go ahead. The dryer's in a closet there in the hallway. I'd tell you how to work it, but you probably already know more about it than I do." I smiled. She took the robe and walked to the bedroom. Luckily I had cleaned it up just a couple days earlier, and hadn't completely messed it up yet, so it was somewhat presentable. I heard her shuffling around and then I heard the door creak open. She came out wearing the robe and walked to the closet that hid the dryer. As I expected, she seemed to know exactly what to do, dumping her clothes into it and adjusting the settings to something or another. "Can mine go in there, too?" I asked. She nodded. "Be right back," I said. I quickly changed and walked back out in my own robe, an older one that I didn't wear much, but she had on my favorite. I tossed my sopping clothing in the dryer along with hers as it began to tumble. I closed the closet door to cut down the noise. "Well. Welcome to my place," I said. "Thanks," she replied. "Though I must say this is a little unusual, at least for me." "Yeah, well, me too," I answered. "Usually I at least know a woman's name before she comes up here." I smiled to indicate I was making a joke. "I already told you," she said. "Penny." "Penny....." I left an obvious pause. "Let's just leave it at Penny," she said. "Sure," I answered. "Fine. No big deal. Didn't mean to pry." "Oh no," she said. "I sounded rude. I'm so sorry. Here you are being a nice guy and I'm treating you like some kind of schmuck or something." "Really. No offense taken," I said. I was a little hurt but I didn't want to show it. "It just that I don't want to get involved, or anything, and I think it would be better if I just dried my clothes and got out." She was repentant but firm. "Of course." I wrinkled my brow. "What do you mean 'involved?'" I was curious. "Uh, I don't mean *involved*, I just mean, you know, involved. I mean, ah, here we are standing around probably stark naked under these robes. At least I am..." I nodded to indicate I was too. "...and a few minutes ago you were standing with your arms around me..." I nodded again to show that I remembered. "...and I, well, kind of liked it because it felt so warm and protective..." I nodded to signify that my brain had just had a seizure. "... and I'm married and don't fool around..." I nodded to convey that I suddenly wanted to fool around. "...and I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea..." I nodded to imply I had just gotten the wrong idea. "...and I wouldn't want to tempt myself..." I nodded to indicate that temptation was the next thing I was planning. "...so it's better if we just don't get involved." "Absolutely," I said. "Can I offer you a glass of wine?" I think I should have paused between her speech and my offer, because she quickly shook her head. Typical of me. I knew I would have to get control of myself before I screwed this up. I walked over to the stereo. I scanned my CD collection and didn't find something that jumped at me. Anyway I didn't know what she'd like, and I wasn't going to spend the next 15 minutes figuring it out, so I just grabbed something that I thought would be acceptable. George Michaels was on the top of the pile, and I popped the jewel box and inserted the silver disk into the player. The music started quietly but insistently. "I Want Your Sex" was the first song on the side, and when I realized it I blushed and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." "It's OK," she said. "I like the song. Nothing personal." "Thanks," I said. I felt like a fool. What was it about Penny, I wondered. I felt like I was 12 years old and all thumbs. Again the girl chorus sang "I Want Your Sex." And again. I tried to ignore the music and said "Want to see the view? It's pretty breathtaking from this high up." She nodded. We walked to the picture window; it was framed with two smaller windows, giving an expansive view of the river and the M.I.T. campus on the other side that in the dying light of the sunset was spectacular. This view was what had convinced me to overpay for the condo when I bought it. It was like having my own personal light show every night. She stepped close to the glass and sighed. "My god, look at that," she said. "That is so beautiful." She was right, of course, and I wanted to take the opportunity to sweep her into my arms and show her another of nature's wonderful gifts, but I was timid and just stood there. Suddenly she said "My god, look at that." I thought she was just repeating herself until I twisted my neck and followed her gaze. Another incredibly black and massively violent cloud was appearing from behind the building, carrying with it another Niagara in its tight little path. It happened to come directly over my building, and as it drenched everything beneath it the lights in my place suddenly went out. "Oh shit," I said. "Now the elevator is out, the dryer is out and everything is out. It happened once before. It only took them a half-hour or so to fix it, but I'm sorry. I can drive you home as soon as it passes." I was being such a schmuck. What had happened to the MIKE HUNT I knew? Here I had a perfect opportunity to try to score and I was punting it right and left. "Not necessary. It's no big deal," she said. Then in the darkness I heard her voice. "Would you do me a favor?" "Sure," I replied. "Anything." "Would you just come over here behind me? Again? Like during the first storm?" Perhaps it was a lightning bolt that I never saw coming. Maybe I'd been run over by a truck in the parking lot. Possibly I'd had a heart attack running to the tree. I had to be dead. This didn't happen in real life. "Sure," I said, moving in behind her. I opened my arms and pulled her in to me, wrapping my arms around her as her terricloth robe touched mine. I felt her warmth as we stood before the window watching the second storm try to outdo the first. I opened my stance and pulled her farther back into me in the darkness. My arms encircled her and I felt the warmth of her breasts through the thick cotton as they lay upon my forearm. I hugged her and sensed that she was hugging me back, even though there was nothing she could do but stand and accept my caress. Nature was taking its course on both sides of the glass, and as the storm showed the first signs of abating, I was sporting the first indications of arousal. I was embarrassed. She wasn't. She wiggled a little and I loosened my grip. She turned to me and brought her hands to the sides of my face and pulled me down to her. Our lips touched, gently, then harder, then harder still. She broke for a breath, and I licked my lips to try to gain moisture. I think she did the same, because when we touched again there was a slipperiness to the venture that hadn't been there for the first kiss. She held my face between her hands, and I put my arms around her and pulled her to me. I was quickly becoming erect, and with nothing to restrain me beneath the robe she had to have felt my firmness poking at her. She didn't react to it, and I continued to kiss her, and she, me. It was the nicest kiss I could remember in several years, and my mind wandered, wondering where women who can kiss like this had gone. We hadn't even opened our lips yet and I was in heaven. She broke again for air, and I pulled her to me and kissed her forehead. It was damp and I knew why. I was getting steamed myself. I bent my head and searched for her mouth with mine. When our lips touched again they were open. The sensations we both felt pulled us inexorably along the path, now to the next step, now farther yet. We knew where the journey led and we were both anxious to get there, but conscious of taking our time and enjoying the trip. We probably stood there kissing for 10 or 15 minutes. I hadn't kissed anyone like that in a long time. She whispered to me that she hadn't either. "I'd love to continue. In the other room?" I asked. She nodded, a shy but knowing nod. We walked hand in hand into the dark bedroom and she sat on the bed. I rummaged a little votive candle from the nightstand drawer and lit it. A light scent of lilac swirled in the air. I sat next to her and began to nuzzle her. She went horizontal. So did I. We lay on the clean sheets on our sides facing each other. As we began to kiss again, she said, "Wait a minute. Let me take care of this." And her hands went to her robe and untied the cloth ribbon that held the front together. I watched in awe. Then she pulled at my robe, opening the front until I was fully exposed. We instinctively pulled together in the darkness and began our kiss again. I felt, but did not see her open her legs and accept my now fully erect penis between her thighs. I knew when her legs closed again, trapping my member tightly just inches from her sex. "Ummm," I said. I tugged at the front of her robe, pulling it down over her upper shoulder and off of her arm. The back of the robe fell away, and I replaced its protection with my hand upon her back. She sighed loudly through the kiss, and I knew she was having the same feelings as I was. Our lips were locked for minutes more as my hand explored her back, teasing and tickling as far in every direction as I could reach. "Please," she finally said. She took my hand and brought it to her front. "You're making me crazy." She didn't need to say more. My hand found her breast and cupped it with the delicacy of a fine lace brassiere. I felt her nipple distend and I knew it had formed a taut point even before I flicked my thumb across it for confirmation. She was so soft, but her breasts had a firmness that only youth can claim, and I reveled in the feeling of her globe in my hand. She sighed again and twisted onto her back. I accepted the invitation, rolling on top of her while supporting my weight on my feet and arms. As I positioned myself above her, her legs spread open, and I knew there was nothing that could stop us now. Except me. I'm such a jerk. I placed my manhood at the portal of her femininity and sank in about an inch. Then I stopped and said "Are you sure you want to do this? I don't want to mess up your life and you seem like such a nice person and you're married and I really want to do this but I don't want to do this if you don't want to do this..." I was aimlessly babbling, and in most uncharacteristic fashion. What was wrong with me today? Here I was perched right at her quim and I'm offering to get out. Like I said. What a jerk. She answered me silently. As I stared into her face her legs came up behind me and closed around my thighs. Then she began to pull me forward, and I sank lower and lower into her, sliding my rock hard prick into her waiting glory box until I was fully seated and the sexual hair of our pelvises mixed. I've made love to a few women. And I've fucked a few others. Nothing I could remember felt like this, and it was all I could do to stop from climbing my sexual peak within these few seconds. I sank down on her and pleaded "Please give me a minute, Penny. This is the most delicious, uh, experience and I don't want to lose it already." "Really? Ready already?" she asked. I blushed. "Well just so you know, this is delightful for me too," she said. She pulled me down deeper with her legs, and the sensations of her warm and wet lubrication around my penis were excruciating. I looked at her, then bent my head down and began to kiss her again. She returned the favor. Our kiss lasted several minutes. Again. And then the juncture of our bodies began to move. Slightly at first, with more freedom later, finally with a violence and abandon that even new lovers only have at the very beginning. I stared down into her eyes, trying to figure out what spark lay within, what special hold she had, what was going through her mind that I could capture and add to my store of human knowledge. This was very different. And very special. And I knew that what made it so was what was going on in her mind and mine and not in our sexual apparatus below. As my distended organ slid in and out of her she looked at me and said "You are so wonderful. You were so concerned for me outside. And you tried so hard to make me comfortable here." I slid into her again. "You are so nice." I pulled out, then pushed back in. Then she said, "You know this can never happen again, don't you?" I nodded, even as I continued the motion with my hips. "Yes," I said. "You're a married lady. A damn nice one, I think. I understand. But at the moment I'm thinking I'm the one of the luckiest guys in the world. This is just wonderful." I poked her for emphasis. "You really are quite a good lover," she said. She pulled me into her and I lost control. I wanted this to last for hours, but she had caught me by surprise and before I knew it I was beginning my climb. "Can I come inside you?" I asked. "You're ready?" she said. She quickly added, "Yes, I'm protected." "Oh thank you," I said. "I'm sorry. I'm there and I wanted to hold off but you're so beautiful and it feels so good and I'm going to cum and I can't help it and I wish I could but I'm getting there and I don't want to but I really do want to and..." I was babbling again. And then I reached my climax. Gentle but violent. Fast but slow. Enthralling for its appearance but disappointing for its conclusion. Every feeling had an equal and opposite contradiction, and then I was coming down, spent, exhausted, empty. I lay upon her in silence for several moments. I said, "You didn't..." She quickly interrupted "No I didn't." She paused. "It's really OK. I enjoyed myself, and I don't have to have an orgasm every time." "I'm really sorry," I said. "There's honestly no need," she said. I thought she was being kind, trying to soften the blow to my bruised male ego. "Often I don't. Sometimes I do. I wish I had if it would make you feel better, but I feel fine." "Thanks. But I really wish you had," I said. "Don't pick a fight," she cooed in my ear. "It isn't necessary, and I won't think more or less of you because of it. You're a wonderful lover. Sometimes it just happens. Sometimes it doesn't. I'm really OK." "Thanks," I repeated. I didn't know what else to say. We lay there together for several minutes holding each other. I felt her warmth against me and soon my manhood began to respond with another display of desire. She felt it against her but did not respond. As it inched its way back toward its earlier target it I looked into her eyes and she into mine. "I'd like to try again," I said. "For you. Not for me." "Very thoughtful," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. "But it probably won't do any good. It takes me a long time and often some special stimulation. I really have to work at it and even then it doesn't always happen." "So you're not willing to try?" I asked softly. By now I was back to a full erection and was poking directly at the juncture of her legs and torso. I gave a little bounce with my hips for emphasis. "If it makes you feel better," she said. Her legs parted slightly, and I felt the head of my arrow pierce the opening to the target it had known only a few minutes earlier. She still had lubrication, or perhaps it had regenerated, I couldn't be sure. I slowly sank into her as we lay side by side on the sheets, watching each other as our lovemaking began again. When I was fully seated I asked, "What kind of 'special stimulation?'" "Oh," she said, a little embarrassed. "Uh, oral sometimes works for me. And I sometimes use a vibrator. The machine usually helps me have an orgasm, though it's not as intense as if it comes without the, you know, mechanical help." "Would you like me to move down and do that?" I asked. "I would enjoy that." "Actually, yes and no," she replied. She quickly explained. "Yes I like oral and yes I would like to have you do that, but no, not right now. I'm enjoying holding you here and talking with you and watching you while we make love this way. So no, but thank you. Anyway, one other thing I could do is help myself manually. I'm just a little self conscious about it, that's all." "Oh, don't be self conscious," I scolded. "And I don't mean to make it *so* important. I'm not meaning to put all this pressure on you. It's just that I've relished our time together and the pleasure I've gotten, I would like for you to enjoy that same pleasure with me." "And so would I," she said. "Sometimes it just happens. Sometimes it doesn't." I felt her hand snaking down between us, and I realized she was positioning herself for better access. I knew her fingers had found the button to her sexual nerves but I didn't feel any other movement. I guessed that she was barely wiggling against that sensitive spot, and I knew that she was the ultimate expert on how to stimulate herself. I lazily stroked myself in and out of her as I played with her skin under my fingers. I tickled her back and shoulders, then brought my hand around and dragged my fingers across her breasts, teasing and tracing the circumference of a nipple before marching on to conquer new territory. My penis was as fully engorged but not as sensitive as before because of my earlier orgasm, but I continued gently thrusting into her, more to let her know that there was a male organ violating the sanctity of her femininity than for my own pleasure. Not that it didn't feel wonderful, of course, but my earlier insistent passion had passed; I could now give complete concentration to her. Her eyes opened momentarily and she looked at me. "A penny for your thoughts," she said. It was a line she probably had used before. She'd no doubt heard the answer before, too. It didn't matter. "A Penny is my thoughts," I said. Her eyes fluttered closed. I kissed the side of her face, then her eyelids, then her forehead, and finally her lips. I knew that she was continuing to work on herself, and I was reveling in the tenderness of the moment. I too often spend my lovemaking time selfishly jamming my cock into a woman's cunt. This is what the other side of the sexual experience could be, and it's better. We never changed position. We didn't need to. There was a comfort to our bodies that didn't tire and we both knew we could stay this way for hours if need be. Need didn't be. As we lay together for five, then ten minutes, I continued nuzzling her, holding her breast, tickling her skin. Then suddenly I saw her eyes open and I stared deeply into them. I knew what her look told me even without the words that followed. "Oh Mike," she whispered. "Oh Penny," I replied. I increased the tempo of my hip thrusts and banged the junction of our sexes together with a force she had not felt since our first encounter. I pushed my manhood deep inside her and I knew she had hit her plateau. Her legs spasmed. I sensed it even before I felt the quiver in her love box surrounding my hardness. And then she let go. Her body bucked against mine, trying to grasp me and pull me deeper inside; her arms surrounded and held me, her eyes opened as if to confirm my presence and then closed as another wave engulfed her. The stimulation of her climax on my penis was indescribably wonderful. It was as though a hollow vibrator surrounded me and alternately switched off and on, at one moment sending the most intense tremors through every millimeter of my erection and the next waiting silently as if to provide a counterpoint so the next switch would be even more intense. Her vagina flashed hot and wet, and the slickness of our passion widened her even further before another contraction clamped her sheath tight around my sword. And then it was my turn. Her orgasm had lasted longer than I was used to, and as she slowly trailed off the knowledge that this delicious woman had pleasured with me sent me over the edge. I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was staring at me, and she knew I was about to hit my own peak again. She pulled me into her tightly. And I came. Wave after wave of ecstasy poured over me, and though the physical thrill was not as intense as my first, the total experience was greater as the knowledge of her satisfaction game me such comfort and relief. I could feel my penis pulsing its final spurts as I regained my sanity, and I looked at her fondly. She had enjoyed watching me just as I had enjoyed watching her. I wondered if I had acquired the same incandescence that I now saw in her. A climax may have been difficult for her, but once she acquired it she glowed like a too bright lantern at a midnight campground. We lay together for another ten minutes, holding each other. And even though I could have gone again, we didn't. It felt better just to have my arms around her and to feel her warmth. And then it was time for her to go. The power had come back on, the dryer had stopped tumbling, the sky had cleared. At least it wasn't raining, and in the dark that was enough. We quickly dressed and left my place. I ushered her into my car, opening her door first. I drove her to Beacon Hill and asked where to drop her. "Just in front of Bennigan's Market," she said. "I'll walk from there." "Don't want me to know where you live?" I asked, hurt. "Not at all," she said. "But I don't want my husband to see you drop me off, and anyway, it's close enough." I stopped the car and leaned over to her. "Thanks for a wonderful evening," I said. We kissed lightly on the lips. As she pulled away I said, "I'll remember it always." And I have. A postscript: I shopped at Bennigan's for the next few months. I visited computer bulletin boards. I joined a health club in Newton. I never managed to find her. If you see her, let her know I wrote a story for her, would you? What does she look like? You don't need a picture. You'll know from the glow. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- M1KE HUNT enjoys writing stories about people, usually women. Often he's just fucking them, but sometimes - at least once in a while - he's just making love and trying to capture a tender moment. If you'd like to hear more of his stories, send me an e-mail. If you'd like to comment to me, that's good too. Send it to M1ke@hilarious.com . Note: the 2nd character in M1KE is a "one" (1) not an "eye" (I). Thanks. For a complete selection of my stories visit . This story is Copyright 1997 by M1KE HUNT. But you can post it in free groups and boards you think Penny might visit.