Lois's Letters

I decided at that point that I needed a period of adjustment in my life.

I took a few days off from volunteering at the hospital, but then became bored. I got a call from the motor pool guy and he said he had a van for me. The next day I saw it, drove it, went to the credit union, took out a loan, and drove it home two days later.

It was ideal. A beautiful sound system; top-of-the-line upholstery and carpeting; rigged with a power ramp and inside anchors for wheelchairs; yet it had enough leftover space (with a ten-foot-long interior) for a small mattress from a child's crib, a low, short bench, and a nice mirror on one wall! I needed to try it out, and I had the perfect time and place for that...the coming weekend in town.

It was the annual Western Fair at the city park, drawing thousands over a three-day period. It was the town's chance to dress up in western gear and have fun. There were hundreds of booths selling everything from canaries to condoms. And, there was beer. I parked my new van in the five-story parking complex a block away from the park. I'd dressed the part, I thought. I was wearing a tight, sleeveless, red paisley-printed mini dress that buttoned from the waist to the short hem, and a pair of cowboy boots. I'd purposely not worn any panties. On top was a black, suede leather jacket – a bolero – that stopped at my waist. For an accent I wore a black, toreador-style Mexican hat that I thought was kind of cute.

I guess I dressed appropriately, since several young men started following me around. Finally, after perusing all of the booths, I just sat on a park bench and talked to guys as they came and went. I made it quite clear that I wasn't there to meet people...but just to relax. Still, I had a lot of beers bought for me that afternoon.

When the crowd thinned out I went back to a booth that had the neatest hand-thrown pottery. The booth guy was very knowledgeable, and lectured me on indigenous (Indian) art as he sat on a high stool behind the counter. I listened to him for a half-hour, then bought him a beer to listen some more. He was fascinating...and I began checking him out physically. He was compact, with short, muscular arms and meaty hands. His shoulders looked powerful – bearish almost – and his torso narrowed to a vee until I could see no more below the counter. We'd been talking about the Anasazi people's influence on North American art and he got off his stool to show me a book that he had. When he did, his head nearly dropped below the counter. He was a dwarf!

Without missing a beat, he brought me the book, I laid it on the counter, and he resumed his perch in the booth. As he walked me through the book, I was in a fog. More to the point: I was getting really hot! What I did from then until he closed up his booth for the night I don't remember, except that my pussy was moist and I was buzzing inside. What I do remember is telling him I'd give him a ride to his hotel. Just before he closed he told me to go on ahead and he'd meet me in the parking lot. I got the feeling that he didn't want to be seen with me, or that he just wanted to watch my ass wiggle as I strolled to the lot in my boots.

Did I care? I started walking, looking behind myself every 50 yards or so to see if he was coming. He was always way back, trudging along on his short little legs. As I strode to the car, I wondered what weird mishap had occurred in his mother's womb to create such a perfect upper half, yet such a cruel, misshapen lower. But, just like at the hospital, my thoughts turned profoundly sexual and I hurried my pace, anticipating fucking this guy in my van, regardless of how "limited" he might appear to be!

He wasn't limited, though, Tom. I got to the van, threw open the side door and sat on the narrow bench in back. When he got to the door he was very candid and said in a tight voice, "Your walk is outrageous! Let me see you." I shuddered at the hungry look in his eyes...and did what he wanted. I pulled up my skirt, spread my legs widely, holding them up behind the knees, and waited until he scrambled inside. He slid the door closed and began licking me from my ass to my clit. I cried out, almost in desperation I wanted him so much, and in moments he brought me to my first orgasm with his tongue. But that was just the beginning. Aside from having a long, thick cock, he was marvelously inventive and caused me to climax two or three more times. When he started to leave – apparently not wanting me to know where he was staying – it seemed much too early and I complained. He allowed me to fellate him and swallow his semen because I whined like a baby. When he left, I realized that I'd reached a new threshold.

I wanted more of the same: sex with unknown, physically-challenged men, the more anonymous the better. I also knew that I'd do almost anything to get it.

There's so much more to tell, but not in this letter. Attached are more photos (I'm thinking of you in the one of me cumming with the dildo). I'm too shy to take one of me fucking someone right now, though. Could you send me a picture of you?

Constantly thinking of you,

Lois

* * * * * *

Dear big, beautiful Tom,

I got your picture with your last note. My God, you're gorgeous! I'll be honest and tell you that I printed it and masturbated with it sitting in front of me. You're unfair, sending a photo of yourself at the beach squeezed into those swim trunks...so tan and yummy! You said it wasn't a recent picture, though. I hope to see one of those soon,without a ravishing blonde hanging all over you. .

Your letters are so persistent! If I didn't know better I'd think you were writing a porno biography of me! I can see it now...Lois: the late bloomer who found happiness by fucking the handicapped. Sorry. That's cruel, even though it's not far from the truth. For you and only you I'll continue my confessions. It really turns me on to do so, by the way.

After a couple of weeks I gravitated back to doing volunteer work at the hospital after hours. I also became a bit more discriminating when it came to selecting guys to fuck. You'll be pleased to hear that I used you as a behavioral model, observing how "nice" my lovers were with other people before doing them. I'd had enough of the conceited know-it-alls who thought all they had to do was show me their cocks, talk some shit, and I'd be all over them. I'd been bored by that in my early days as a volunteer. So, to broaden my pool of candidates, I started using the rapid transit trains and parking my van in the station lot closest to where I live.

The beauty of rapid transit train stations is that they're multi-storied and they have elevators for wheel-chaired folks, as well as escalators for the rest of us. By hanging out around the elevator entrances, I could pick and choose men I wanted to be with who'd just arrived at the station. Then I'd offer to help them upstairs. Once I got them in the elevator they were mine. No one was able to resist my slutty banter as I slowly lifted my skirts to tempt them with my wet pussy.

For example, a few weeks ago I met a guy at the train station who was perfect. He was African-American. I don't know if I've told you, but when I started my indiscriminate adventures at the hospital I took on all comers...or should I say, "cummers!" Blacks, Asians from many places, Hispanics, Native Americans...it didn't matter. One of the black guys I was with early on talked so much he was distracting. Tom, I realize that it's important stereotypic behavior to verbally humiliate white women while self-styled black studs are fucking them, but – give me a break! – all I wanted was to get both of us off. Well, he rapped, rapped, and rapped some more about his gigantic black dick in my tight white pussy until I turned my head around (he was doing me like a dog) and yelled, "Shut up, will you, you're not the first! Just fuck me, for Christ's sake!"

I hate it when that happens.

Anyway, weeks ago this other black soldier in a wheelchair got off the train and was waiting outside the elevator door. He was awfully handsome, kind of a dark caramel-color, and dressed in his highly-starched summer khaki uniform. It appeared that he might be missing the lower part of one limb, or a foot, since his muscular thighs and calves filled out his pants completely. I offered to help him upstairs and he responded with the sweetest smile, calling me "ma'm." He told me he was visiting an aunt who was sick from cancer before he traveled to the east coast. I offered to drive him to his aunt's, wait for him, and take him wherever he was going after that. Hey, I support our troops! On top I was wearing a sleeveless, skin tight turtleneck that showed my assets. Below I wore a long denim skirt with slits up the sides and no panties, though he didn't know that. He was very grateful for my offer, and stayed in his chair after we got to the van, periodically straightening his uniform in the large mirror I'd installed in back...for decidedly different purposes.

Outside his aunt's house in a ramshackle part of town, I waited, at his insistence. I assumed that, while he was paying his respects, it might be dicey to explain the presence of a white woman, even though the van itself looked pretty official and institutional. I waited for an hour, reading, and at the end of another hour he wheeled himself out and boarded the van. He looked exhausted, was sweating through the armpits of his khakis, and appeared glad to be on his way. He asked me if, before we returned to the train station, we could drive past his old high school. I agreed to, and we ended up on a deserted bluff overlooking the school's football field, apparently where he'd played as a youth.

He talked as if in a dream about his glory days on the gridiron, and he left his chair to squeeze by the engine cowling to sit in the passenger seat. I just listened...and listened, until he stopped talking. Finally, he took my hand in both of his and said, "Thank you!" Then, he complimented me on the softness...and whiteness...of my skin, and moved his hands up my arms to my shoulders, creating goose bumps from his caresses. I shivered, not really from horniness, though I was quite aware of the dampness between my legs. His hands seemed to infuse in me a warm, glowing gentleness that stimulated my juices. I exhaled quickly and asked him if he'd ever been with a white woman. His dark eyes scanned my breasts and both of my thighs as the slits in my skirt bared them. He shook his head "no," and looked me in the eyes. "Would you like to be with me?" I asked, glancing quickly toward the back of the van. He got the message. As he moved I helped him – pawing him, really – almost desperate to feel his skin under my fingertips. Now I was horny! We both felt that way, as we wended our way past his wheelchair to the small bed I'd laid out just inside the rear doors.

On our knees, we began undressing each other. I was naked in a heartbeat, but it took longer for him to shed his uniform. I was dying to get at his cock, so I frantically drew down his boxers. Half erect and drooping, his tool was maybe eight inches long, and perhaps two-and-a-half inches in diameter, interlaced with rough-looking veins, with an artery running along its top that looked as thick as a #2 pencil. The crown of his dick was dark purple in color and as smooth to the touch as a baby's bottom. With a whimper, I took it into my mouth long before his butt dropped to the mattress so that we could pull off his trousers and shoes. He cried out with joy when my lips sucked him in, but then he relaxed a bit and completely disrobed as I drooled all over his prick.

I finally saw his artificial foot and ankle, and the horrible shrapnel scars from his wound. If anything, they made me want to please him all the more. I couldn't take all of him in my mouth because of his size, but it hardly mattered. He grunted out, "My name's Brent...what's yours?" Between long, worshipful sucks I murmured my name. Then he complimented my body further – its curves, its tone, its pale, appetizing flesh – just before we positioned ourselves in a "69." We ate at one another for the longest time. I climaxed gloriously as he held my hips fast against his face, then he exploded into my mouth, pumping so much cum into my throat that I couldn't keep up while swallowing. When both of us were through, he came up and embraced me, but I wasn't yet ready to relax. I splayed my legs, locking my heels to his butt, and began rubbing his cock in my slit, which quickly made him hard again. Whew! Just thinking about it now makes me wet.

I'm going to take a break, Tom. I'll be back in a while.

I don't know why I tell you when I'm stepping away from the computer. It's not as if we're on the phone! Anyway – honesty, right? – a half hour ago I went to the bathroom and tried to masturbate over the guy – Brent – I was talking about above. And I couldn't get off! Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. So...Tom, I thought of you and wham! I screeched so loud while cumming I hope I didn't disturb my neighbor! Anyway, I'll continue now with my last elevator romance, though I've got to admit that right now it doesn't seem as hot as it did before.

This guy, Brent, slipped into me in one slow push. My pussy just yawned open for him. I felt him way inside, rubbing my cervix, and tried to move. He wouldn't let me, though. He kept our pelvises locked together and he moved his hips in a slow circle, making me breathless as he reamed me out. Gradually I loosened up inside to his literal screwing, then he began sliding very slowly in and out while he rolled his hips. He pushed and he rolled and I squirmed and yelped as he sped up. He grabbed my tits and started nibbling on my nipples as we fucked faster. My juices started running out of me in what felt like torrents, as my pussy made funny little smacking noises around his big probe. Then I noticed he was chanting something under his breath. I stopped whimpering and listened. He was praying! He was quoting things directly from the Bible! Psalms and other stuff!

Well, I almost laughed, but didn't, because I was afraid he might lose his hard-on. I just brought his head down and listened to him whisper his incantations into my ear until we were fucking so hard and fast that all we could do was yelp, whimper and grunt. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm, those little tingly feelings in my toes and little flashes in my belly, and I swear I could feel the head of his cock expand at my cervix as he hammered away. It was probably just me starting to clamp down, though. It didn't matter, because I knew we were both close to erupting. Our loins began trembling involuntarily as we thrashed against one another, trying to wring out a simultaneous climax. And we did, big-time! One final thrust into me and he froze, bathing my insides with jet after jet of his scalding cum, which triggered shrieks from me and a one-minute fireworks show behind my clenched eyelids. By the time we stopped twitching, a huge pool of semen had run out of me onto the sheet covering the little bed.

"Praise God!" he gasped loudly.

A minute later, as I reached to put on my clothes, I mumbled, "Whatever." I've never been very religious.

On the way back to the train station he told me he was entering a seminary back east, hoping to become an ordained minister. I wished him luck and we parted. God, I lead a weird life!

That's my latest fuck story, Tom. I'll write more if you want. And...I've given some thought to your request for pictures of me fucking guys. I guess I'll do it, when I think through all the details about how to get them. I mean, you need visual stimulation as a pornographic novelist, right? I want them to be especially good. In the meantime, please write and let me know what you think of the ones I'm sending with this note.

Lois

* * * * * *

Hello again, sweetest Tom,

It's been so many days since you last wrote that I was afraid I'd offended you in some way. Thank goodness you were away on assignment! I did a lot of hand-wringing when I didn't hear from you immediately.

But when I did it was certainly worth it! I can't thank you enough for the picture of you...naked and masturbating. Okay, I'm jealous that you're shooting your load into that stunning redhead's mouth, but I can't really be choosy. After I printed it, I cut off most of her face, so now just her open lips and tongue are shown slurping at your dick. I imagine her to be me. And what a gorgeous dick you have! I keep a copy of the photo in my nightstand, so it's the first thing I see in the morning and the last I see at night. I'm such a freak!

Again you said it wasn't a recent picture. C'mon! Have one of those hot babes of yours take a snapshot of you and send it to me! I've shown you tons of mine! And thanks, by the way, for all the compliments. I guess it's turned out that I have a pretty nice body! I watch my diet carefully and you know the kind of exercise I prefer!

Anyway, I hope you had a nice Fourth of July. I certainly did! Again at the two-block-square city park, there were scores of booths selling stuff. There was also a long parade with lots of war veterans. Of course, I was especially interested in the disabled vets, and there were dozens...a few from as far back as WWII.

As usual I parked in the multi-story lot a couple of blocks away. I prepared well for the holiday, packing some sandwiches and a cooler of beer in the van. I'd previously arranged for the hospital PT tech – my gay friend Joel – to meet me during the afternoon. Thinking of you, I asked him to take pictures of me with some guy I might be entertaining during the day. He's a bi- voyeur anyway, so it was a turn-on for him and he agreed. I also shaved my pussy, which you'll notice in the attached pix, leaving just a little triangle of hair above my slit. And finally, I set a goal for myself. Before I went home that day I wanted to fuck at least four guys who truly appealed to me...all in my van, which I planned to move periodically so as not to arouse suspicion.

I got lucky early, arriving about ten in the morning. The park and the booths were already crowded. It was a hot day, and I'd dressed appropriately...denim miniskirt (with panties, this time!) and a thin, cropped, sleeveless cotton top (with a push-up bra!) to accent my 36C tits and show some tight midriff. (Yeah! My waist is holding at 23", and my legs are long and shapely too!). Such a slut, I also wore wedgie high heels on my feet so my calf muscles would stand out. Several men cast sidelong glances at me and complimented my body quietly as I passed them. I'd seen one guy earlier, tall (maybe 6'2"), with a full head of hair, once blond but turning gray, square-shouldered with a solid build, and deeply-chiseled facial features. He was in his late fifties to early sixties, wearing a fatigue jacket with its left arm pinned up to his shoulder...obviously a war veteran. He was the archetypal WASP, with a salt-and-pepper mustache and clear blue eyes, married (his ring told me that), with a dumpy little woman next to him who was probably his wife.

She appeared bored. I followed them as they looked at the booths, and – sure enough! – she left after a while, leaving me an open moment to get close to him and talk. I stood next to him at an Asian basket booth and asked the attendant about a particular item. "That's from Cambodia," said the guy I'd been following. I asked how he knew, and that broke the ice. For the next fifteen minutes he related his Vietnam stories to me, which were fascinating. Finally, I glanced at my watch and he apologized for taking my time. I told him I was thirsty because of the heat and I'd buy him a beer, even though it was early. He insisted that we go to a beer bar across the street from the park. When we got there it was overflowing with young vets who were spilling out onto the sidewalk. It took me less than a minute to convince him we should go to my van, since I'd stocked it with beer and picnic goodies. His wife, he said, hated Fourth of July parties. She'd left him to visit her sister for the morning, and would pick him up around noon. I figured that gave me enough time to fit him into my holiday agenda.