Blinking my eyes, I tried to erase it, but it was still there. Standing in the bedroom doorway, I was rooted in place as if my feet were encased in cement. On the bed, my beautiful wife was masturbating. But, she wasn’t just using her fingers. She was fucking herself with a huge cucumber encased in a condom.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
As I stood there watching, her hips were flexing as she thrust the giant green vegetable in and out of herself. Her hips flexed and rose off the bed with each inward thrust. While she masturbated, she…
The air-conditioning hit me like a welcoming wall of relief as I stepped into the store and the cowbell overhead clanked. Holly poked her head around the far end of the aisle where she was stocking shelves.
“Thank god it’s you,” she told me with a smile. “Can you turn the sign and lock the door?”
“Sure? But if you’re closing, I can come back tomorrow morning.”
“No worries. I just want to get a few things finished out here then I need to close out the register. Get what you need. I’ll meet you up front in a minute.”
The meeting was droning on and I knew I should have been paying more attention. There were only four of us sitting around the conference table, so it wasn’t like I could hide. Beverly, the senior VP, was sitting at the head of the table leading the meeting. Older and at the company for twenty years, she was no-nonsense, and everyone referred to her around the office as a bitch on wheels. Just for that fact alone, I should have been paying attention. …
“I want to cum on your tits.”
How many times had I said that line that afternoon?
At least a dozen, as I sat on the bench along the concourse of the local college campus, propositioning women as they passed by. It sounded a bit more than slightly pathetic — and absolutely misogynistic — but it had worked before to get my fetish relieved, or sometimes even laid.
Sitting on the bench that sunny afternoon, I knew the day wouldn’t disappoint but little did I know that it might be a turning point.
So far that day, I’d been called…
I shouldn’t be here. That’s what was pounding through my brain as I lay in the pitch dark staring up at a ceiling that I knew was there but couldn’t see.
“Not yet anyway,” I whispered to myself seconds later.
A hand finally snaked across the bed to me and took mine as I lay there. Devin rolled over a moment later and kissed me. I wanted that kiss. I’d been craving that kiss for so long and when it finally came, it was even more than I expected as my entire body reacted to him. Passionate didn’t begin to…
The drawer was filled to overflowing as I rummaged through it. Spatulas, spoons, a few things I didn’t even know what they were for and I was getting a little frustrated. Tina coming into the room behind me stopped my searching.
“What are you looking for?”
“Corkscrew,” I pointed at the bottle of wine on the counter above me.
“Third drawer down,” she replied as she crossed the kitchen and took two glasses out of the cupboard. “You’re early.
“Hope you don’t mind.” I pulled the evading corkscrew out, “Found it.”
“Nope. I was just wondering who was down here…
The dinner crowd was trickling out and the start of the evening crowd was filtering in as I sat nursing my beer. Dreading another night in my motel room across the street, I was feeling a little depressed over spending it alone. That was why I had stayed at the bar after eating dinner. Company among strangers was still company. As I sat sipping my beer and watching the game on the TV over the bar, the front door opened and every head turned to look at the woman that walked in. …
Leaning back against the headboard, I adjusted the pillows behind me, trying to get more comfortable. Waiting for my wife to come to bed I pulled the blankets up over my lap, knowing I wouldn’t have long to wait. Anne had told me she’d be right behind me.
A few minutes later, she walked into the bedroom and spied me just sitting there. “I thought you were going to read?”
Anne started undressing then reached for her cami that she usually wears to bed.
“No. I thought we’d do something else.”
“We?” She turned back to me and arched an…
“Stop the car!”
“What? Why? What’s wrong?” Braking hard, I stopped and watched the dust roll past us in the headlights as it enveloped the front of the car.
Next to me, Ashley smiled mischievously in the dim lights from the dash. “This spot is perfect.”
“For what?” I asked dumbly unsure of what she was getting at or why she stopped us.
“For fucking me.” Her dazzling smile was incredible, and I cast a glance into the back seat, which was still filled with some of my stuff from college. …
Casey Holt — Writer. Photographer. Born wanderer with a gypsy soul.