Lois's Letters

I slid open the side door of the van and climbed in, moving to the back where I'd put the picnic basket and beer. He slid closed the door. I pulled two bottles of beer out of the cooler, handed them to him with an opener, and straddled the low, plastic-covered bench I keep in back. I know he was looking at my damp crotch under my miniskirt. He regarded me strangely, then said, "I only have one arm."

I blushed and apologized. Of course he couldn't open a beer bottle, except with his teeth! Then he told me he wasn't really thirsty, and we hadn't come out here to drink, anyway, had we! I murmured a very meek "No," and both of us started undressing. It was almost agonizingly rational, Tom! Neither of us said a word until we were both naked! Then, as he knee-walked back to where I was, with his long, mature cock rising and his full balls swinging with each movement, he said that he hoped that such a gorgeous young woman as I wouldn't be disappointed with an old man. Had I not been so hungry for him (my pussy felt absolutely buttery!), I might've laughed at his incredible modesty!

I whimpered when he hugged me with his very strong right arm. I kissed the stump of his left, all over, and wondered how – maybe forty years earlier, long before I was born – he would've felt when he was whole. It didn't matter. I was going to take his cock inside myself, share maybe a half hour of joy while exchanging our fluids, and walk away, both of us as innocent as we'd been when we'd met in the park. Of all the men I'd ever been with to that point, I knew he understood.

He was so gentle! We shoved the bench aside and he took me on my back, with my legs ever-so-willing to clasp behind his buns. By the time he was in me it took no more than thirty seconds for me to cum, whining, crying, blubbering nonsense I'm now too embarrassed to repeat. He kept whispering in my ear how he'd like to give me a baby, and I kept responding "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" until he again brought me to orgasm, this time screaming, as I'd not yet descended from the previous one. Finally, showing the patience of Job, he absolutely plowed me to an amazing, silent, shuddering climax, causing me almost to black out it was so intense. To this day, I'm still trying to figure out what made that one coupling so special.

I dozed a bit...I think...and he roused me before he left, fully dressed. "Thank you, little lady," he said. "Gotta go. Wife's pickin' me up 'bout noon," then he disappeared. He hadn't even cum!

I guess the humorous way to end that story is, "Who was that masked man?" But, truly, Tom, I was more than moved. The earth had done that for me. And I've said enough for this letter.

I hope to finish my Fourth of July tales in the next one.

Please, please answer. You've become an addiction with me. I need to hear from you.

Kisses all over,

Lois

* * * * * *

My darling Tom,

Yeah, it's come to that..."darling." I'm so obsessed with you I could scream. Your old pictures, your letters, reading your columns on the Internet...I'm finding myself daydreaming like a schoolgirl about you at work! And I'm a boss! This isn't supposed to happen! I find myself wanting to whisper in your ear at night, "Take me, Tommy!" I realize, of course, that your diminutive nickname would drive you crazy, piss you off, or whatever compound prepositional phrase might be applicable to a big-time writer this week. I'm also really curious about your porno novel.

Damn it, Tom, something has to be done here. I want to fly down to see you one of these weekends...just to get acquainted again in person. Well, that's what I'm suggesting, at least. Even though I'd want to sleep with you, if you have a new girlfriend or accommodations aren't right, I could easily stay elsewhere. Anything would be better than these periodic, one-way confessionals about my kinky sex life! Think how frustrated I feel when I think of you just absorbing all the lurid facts about my absurdly glandular existence! Jesus!

Okay, that's off my chest. Now, I suppose you want to hear more about my Fourth of July fuck-fest! Well, brace yourself!

After the Vietnam vet had left, I moved the van down to the fourth floor and got a parking spot in a corner. I walked back to the park a bit addled, kind of wandering and feeling the air on my bare, moist pussy. The Vietnam vet, whose name I didn't catch, had made quite an impression, and he was nowhere to be seen, unfortunately. I'd gotten a taste of something that I couldn't identify, a germ of something portentous that had made my insides quiver. I wished I'd gotten his name, number, something, just so we could talk further.

But, I remembered the day's mission, and it didn't involve much talking! Back at the park I had a beer and started checking out some of the prospects. One guy my age on metal crutches with long stringy hair, a U.S. Army field jacket with the sleeves missing, and military tattoos, tried to engage me, but turned me off. The guy who really interested me after a while was sitting on a park bench, reading a paperback, and was dressed neatly in a sport coat and slacks. His left foot was a prosthetic. But what distinguished him from the scores of other vets that day was that he wore a green beret with military insignia. He looked 35-40 and – as I leaned against a short iron fence twenty feet away – I realized he was looking at me over the top of his dark glasses. He smiled knowingly, patted the vacant spot on the bench next to where he was sitting, and I pointed to myself, in effect asking if he was motioning to me. He nodded slowly and continued smiling. If he hadn't beckoned to me I probably would've taken the initiative, walked over, and started a conversation with him anyway. He was hot, but in an understated way.

When I sat down he said, "I was wondering when you'd get here, and I'm so glad you didn't overdress." I blushed and squeezed my thighs together, hyper-conscious of my naked pussy – now again growing moist – under my miniskirt. Before I could say anything he'd stood and offered me his arm. "I'm parked a few blocks away and my house is just five miles down the interstate."

I was so surprised! I finally gained my voice and told him I was waiting for a friend...Joel, the PT tech...whom I'd agreed to meet after the parade. He looked disappointed, until I told him about my van in the parking lot. He brightened and – without hesitation – suggested we go to it. From the moment we'd said hello there was never any question as to what we'd do. It was as if we fucked every day at this time and we were meeting for our scheduled romp. As we walked he talked non-stop. He'd lost a leg in the first Gulf War. Every year on the Fourth he made a ceremonial visit to the park to pick up a woman to have sex with. He owned a small accounting business, and he was reading a book by a well-known comedian. At the elevator he asked which floor I was parked on, I told him "4," and he punched "3." I started to press 4, myself, as the car started moving, but he grabbed my wrist in an iron grip to prevent it.

"Humor me," he said firmly, "I want to follow you up a flight of stairs." His tone was so firm that it was sexy...quietly demanding. I felt a buzzing in my crotch and was extremely wet. We got off at the third floor and walked to the nearby two-flight stairwell. Four steps up the first flight and he stopped me by reaching under my skirt and holding the outside of my hips. His hands stroked me from waist to thighs and I thought my heart would burst from my chest from excitement. "Your pelvis is made for motherhood," he murmured. I was trembling, and when he slid one hand between my legs to touch my drooling pussy, I whimpered and thrust back onto his fingers. He chuckled, muttering something about how he knew I'd be without panties when he first saw me, and that he was glad I was all ready for him. He licked my cream from his fingers, then pushed me slightly and I continued to walk up the stairs, with him limping behind, to where the steps doubled back for the second flight. There he took my hand and pulled me around a thick concrete pillar with a large space behind it. We were now hidden from the sight of anyone who might come up or down from adjoining floors.

It was outrageous! My knees nearly buckled as he scooped me into his arms for a deep, tongue-lashing kiss. I meekly traced the bulge in his trousers with my nails, then blatantly unzipped him, groping inside his fly for his cock. I pulled it out and wordlessly knelt before him to sink the beautiful, thick, veiny thing into my mouth. God, I love the taste of a new cock on my tongue! The cement floor was dirty, though, and cold. He seemed aware of that and pulled me to my feet after a couple of minutes, turning me around. I automatically spread my legs and stepped up with one leg onto a niche in the concrete wall so he could get at me. My buttocks quivered in those few seconds as I waited until he touched me with his cock. I whined when I felt its blunt heat against my sopping labia and I thrust back onto him, causing both of us to groan as he rammed deeply into me.

Well, Tom, he took me hard. Our thighs slapped together loudly, echoing in the stairwell. We fucked, fucked, then fucked some more...until we both had a huge, moaning climax. It was such a turn-on, in the gloomy semi-darkness, the place smelling of stale urine from people using it as a toilet, and we were just two rutting animals who hadn't been able to wait to get to my van, parked no more than 100 feet away up the stairs on the next floor.

When our breathing evened out, he zipped up and we walked to the van, with his warm cum running down my thighs. Once inside we stripped, I quickly sucked him hard again with my mouth, and he laid on his back on my bench. I then straddled him and we screwed for another twenty minutes until he filled me again with a monstrous load. When we were finished I told him I needed to pee and clean up. He wanted me to do it just outside, in front of the van so he could watch, but I chose the restroom thirty feet away. I slipped on my skirt and top without my bra, gave him a sandwich and a beer from my picnic stash, and went to the loo. When I returned, he'd slid the door closed and was gone. On the front seat was his business card with the word "Thanks!" scribbled on it. The guy certainly didn't stand on ceremony.

As I moved the van down to the third floor, I felt a bit hurt that he'd fucked me and run. But, the day was still young, and I walked back to the park where the parade was going on. I took my digital camera with me on this trip. In the parade there were lots of flags, a few bands, and groups of veterans from every war or military action over the past sixty years. The large contingent of disabled vets of all ages, from 80 down to 20, gave me a lump in my throat and I started to tear up. I hated what war did to men and women, crippling and killing them. Just at that moment, though, I spotted Joel and he joined me on the curb to watch the festivities, which lightened my mood. I told him of my program for the day and my successes, insisting that it wasn't the anonymity of the sex that necessarily turned me on, but the thrill of meeting a handicapped person who was a stranger and sharing some passion with him. I'm not sure he fully understood. Do you, Tom? Suddenly I feel a little afraid that I'm saying too much. I'll sign off for now and continue if it interests you.

Suddenly depressed, but still loving,

Lois

* * * * * *

Tom, you are so sweet!

Your words of encouragement, support, whatever, give me strength. I sometimes have visions of myself just plummeting down a spiraling rat hole as a slut...a whore...a nymphomaniac unable to handle her sexual cravings. On the other hand, when you answer my letters, my spirits soar and I feel good about myself! Do you think I'm bipolar?

I was disappointed you didn't send a photo this time. Maybe the ones I send with this note will stimulate you to do it. I hope so.

Anyway, where was I at the end of the last letter? Now I remember.

After the parade my gay friend Joel and I decided to go to the beer bar across from the park, which was by now filled with vets, most wearing partial uniforms. It seemed that nearly half of them had been wounded in some way. I handed him my camera and he assured me that he'd play along. As I entered, separate from Joel since I wanted to appear unattached, I was serenaded by choruses of whistles, catcalls and suggestive comments from drunken ex-G.I.s, like: "Hellllo, sweet thaaang; Hey, baby, sit on my face! Yo' white ass lookin' good t'day, bitch; I could eat that pussy all day, girl! Suck a dick, darlin'?"...and other such witty remarks.

I looked around for a seat and the only space I saw was on a banquette by the window, between two vets playing chess. One was in a wheelchair, a double leg amputee, and the other guy sitting across from him had an artificial left arm. They both looked about 25. I wended my way through the crowd, with my tits and ass being pawed constantly by desperate, groping hands, and stood at the edge of their table with some other guys, watching. In a moment the man in the wheelchair looked at his chess mate and said, "Scoot over and give the pretty lady a seat between us, Ace." The guy did so and I sat down, muttering my thanks. The one called Ace signaled to the busy waitress for beers all around. I saw a flash, and realized that Joel, standing at the noisy bar, had begun snapping pictures of me with my two new acquaintances.

I'm a pretty good chess player and the guy, "Ace", had made a stupid move, I thought. I flinched and he mumbled that it was okay, that he knew what he was doing. Soon the game was over, with him check mating his companion, whom he introduced as "Deuce." Our beers arrived and the table was cleared of the chess set. After our first sip I felt hands on my thighs under the table. Ace was stroking my left leg and Deuce my right. My nipples immediately hardened and made little thimbles through the thin material of my top. I saw another flash, courtesy of my photographer buddy, Joel, who'd taken another picture.

Well, we drank more beer and these two young guys did their Mutt 'n' Jeff act, with me giggling like a teenager, all the while their hands were getting ever closer to my crotch. Finally, I just slid down with my butt over the edge of the seat, spread my legs and boldly hooked my shoes over a horizontal bar under the table. I felt both of their hands immediately meet at my pussy, to stroke up and down my soaking labia. No one but Joel noticed, of course. The place was jammed with people by then, most of them drunk except for my two new friends. I was a bit tipsy, but not so much that I couldn't smell the telltale odor of my juices which – with two prior sex partners that day – had become very ripe and now covered my loins with their stench. I leaned my head back and mewled lasciviously as Deuce's fingers probed up into me.

I was in heaven! Nothing to do the entire day but meet new guys and wallow in sex! All those years in college when I'd heard girls talk about getting drunk and laid made sense now! It was as if I were playing catch-up!

"Hey, I'm hungry! Let's all have a sandwich!" I finally giggled, aware of my double entendre. My two compatriots agreed that they wanted a "Lois burger" (I'd told them my name), and we got up to leave. I winked at Joel so he would know to follow us with the camera, and we hustled to the parking lot. We must have been quite a sight, with Ace and I staggering into the elevator and Deuce wheeling himself along like a chaperone. In minutes we were helping him out of his wheelchair into the van on the third floor. I'd parked at the end of a row of cars, with the side door facing a wall, which meant we could leave it open.

These two guys had been buddies since Basic Training. They'd also gone through Ranger training together, then to Iraq in the same unit. They said their squad had been decimated on the same day and they'd continued their inseparable life Stateside...even to the point of getting laid together. So they knew each others' kinks. When I started to undress, one of them told me to leave on my skirt...that it would be better that way. I reached in the van's console and brought out a tube of lubricant that I always keep and handed it to Deuce. I'd never had anal intercourse before but had planned ahead. I wanted to experience it this day. While Ace busied himself unbuttoning my top and murmuring compliments as he squeezed and suckled my breasts, his buddy greased up my bottom.

Undressed, they were beautiful male specimens...except of course for the tragic sight of their missing limbs. But their shoulders, pecs, washboard stomachs and sexual parts looked almost classically Grecian to my eyes. Ace helped his buddy out of his pants to lie on my bench and shrug out of his own clothing, and I leaned back with my hands on the mattress, relaxed with my legs kind of open. I told them that a friend of mine would be dropping by to take some pictures and they both went into a funny routine about "Lois Does The Troops," "Parking Lot Pussy," and "A Woman Gets Back At I-raq." I got the feeling that if these guys didn't make humorous small talk of their life situation, they'd probably go out and shoot themselves...or someone else. But things got serious pretty quickly.

Deuce was stroking his prick to near erection, and he took my hand to bring me forward to my knees while he was on his back. He was long – maybe eight inches – and growing thicker as I replaced his hand with both of mine to jack him off. I couldn't keep my mouth off of his young uncircumcised cock, either, and I took as much of him as I could. He hadn't bathed for a few days, I figured, since he tasted richly of some thick discharge under his foreskin, to which he added some fresh pre-cum as I sucked. "Smegma," I thought, as the cheesy stuff hit my epiglottis and slid into my throat, causing me to gag momentarily. I got a perverse thrill as I contemplated absorbing the thick load of this double amputee when he came. He'd told me that he hadn't had sex in months.

The one hand of his buddy, Ace, was again all over me...squeezing my breasts as if they were ripe fruit, lifting my skirt up and caressing my nether openings with his fingers onto which he'd spit. As we heated up, I became filled with joy – dirty, filthy, unbridled pleasure – and thanked the gods for my being so lucky this day. Soon there was a flash and we all looked over at Joel, who'd suddenly appeared in the open doorway of the van, taking his first picture of me about to fuck. "Hey, man," the guys said to Joel after I breathlessly introduced them. Then they both went back to work on me.

Hey, man, was all they said. I marveled at their attitude, as Ace pulled me from my knees and positioned me to straddle Deuce's turgid cock in the cowgirl position. Regardless of my recent experience, there's still a lot I don't know about the male of the species, Tom, especially when it's involved with teamwork and sex. But I couldn't believe that one of these guys was helping his legless buddy to have first sex with me rather than himself. Nor could I believe that the two accepted without question that Joel was taking pictures of us. A natural thing, it seemed to them. No threats, no self-consciousness, just unquestioned recognition of a fact.

I sat down slowly on Deuce's cock, absorbing that magnificent instrument 'til it left me breathless. It felt as if the blunt end was pushing the air out of my lungs as I slowly cycled on and off of him. And as Ace approached my face with his member in his hand and stood before me, I licked my lips to prepare for the firm crown of his prick to slide into my throat. I lowered my tongue in my mouth, which opened my gullet for him to enter. Four or five slow pushes and my nose was in his musky pubic hair, a signal for me to begin a very gentle in-and-out rhythm. He placed his one good hand on the back of my head, not to push, just to guide me, and all we could hear was his heavy breathing and the slick sound of my saliva bathing his member. In the meantime Deuce had placed his hands under my butt to lift me on and off his prong. He moved my hips in little horizontal circles too, so he could stir around inside of me, which brought forth copious amounts of stinking liquid from my depths.