Personal Ad-ventures

Whew. Hell of a letter. She didn't mention how old they were, but then again I said in the ad that age wasn't important. They didn't sound like teenyboppers or old geezers. I suppose anything in between would be all right. The notion of Marty sucking up my come out of Susan's box wasn't all that appetizing, but I figured it didn't affect me one way or the other. I just hoped she was telling it straight when she said he wouldn't come on to me. That would be grounds for an abrupt termination of the relationship.

The following evening I called the number. Marty answered.

"Hi, Marty. My name is Bill and it was my ad you answered."

"Which one? We answered several."

"Well, it had to do with me joining you and your wife. I said in my ad that . . ."

"Oh, yeah. We, or I should say Susan, wrote the letter to "Occupant." Is that you?"

"The very one. Your letter sounded interesting, so I thought I'd give you guys a call."

"What do you look like?"

"I'm six foot even, 170, and I have short dark blond hair and blue eyes, all three of them." A little humor.

"Cute. I love comedians."

"Look . . . Marty, I'm the one that placed the ad, and yours is not the only response I've gotten. It sounds like you've got an attitude, and that's one thing we don't need in this kind of scene. You dig . . . Marty? I suggest you look elsewhere and . . ."

"Wait! Please don't hang up!" It was a female voice on the line. "This is Susan. Marty, get off the line . . . now!" There was a distinct click.

"I'm sorry . . . what did you say your name was?"

"Bill."

"Bill. I have to apologize for Marty. Sometimes he gets a little rude. He's not really that way when you get to know him."

"Susan, forgive me for being blunt, but I don't really want to get to know him. The whole idea of this, this proposal, is for me to fuck your brains out while he watches. Or, if he prefers, he can join in, as long as he remembers that I do not cotton to men so much as touching me. If he wants to scarf up my jizz after I've deposited it in you, fine. That's his thing, not mine. The last thing I need is for Marty to cop an attitude while I'm boinking you. It could get very ugly. Sorry to lay it out so insensitively, but that's the way it is."

"Mmmm, fuck my brains out, huh? Ooh, I like the sound of that."

"Amongst other things."

"Oh my. We really need to work out this little misunderstanding so we can get together. We really do. Bill, I can guarantee you that Marty will behave himself when you come over. See, I'm holding this sorta hammer over his head. A couple of years ago, Marty was treating me like shit. I started seeing other men, just to teach him a lesson. I didn't care if he knew, in fact, I wanted him to. I even arranged it so he walked in and caught me getting boinked by this guy. I like that word. So anyway, he was really hurt, I mean really hurt. Problem was, by this time I was really enjoying other men between my legs. I made a deal with him. I would stop seeing guys behind his back if he promised he'd treat me properly, and would allow me to have threesomes, him included, with other guys. At first he got all pissed, but he soon began to enjoy it. We've had maybe twenty guys visit us in the past two years.

"Like I said in the letter, some of them have been creeps, but a few have really set off fireworks in me. Mmmm. But Marty has never opened his trap, not once. He knows I'll say fuck you and be out screwing my head off with Tom, Dick and Harry before he can say boo."

"Susan, I'm a little concerned about one other thing. You've talked about being with quite a few men, and you've also explained how I'm supposed to come in you so Marty can go down on you afterwards. That implies I won't be wearing any protection."

"Not to worry. Both Marty and I go in and get tested every month, without fail. I can show you the documentation. So, have we got a deal? You gonna join us?"

"I guess so. But if Marty so much as . . . well, you get the idea. I'll be out the door."

"Great! When?"

"You name it. I'm flexible."

"Uh, tomorrow night? Say about nine?"

"Where?"

"1433 Juniper. It's a small street just past Walnut on Farmhouse Road, heading north. It's on the right side of the street; look for a white mailbox near the curb with 1433 on it."

"I'll be there."

"Oh, and anything special you like to drink? We've always got beer and wine here."

"Wine will be fine."

"See you then, Bill.

Punctual as always, I rang the doorbell at 9:01. Marty answered the door.

"Hi, Marty, I'm Bill"

"How ya doin." He turned back into the house just as I extended my hand to shake. Good start.

I followed Marty into the living room and, obedient to his gesturing with his hand in the general direction of the couch, I sat down. He disappeared, presumably heading for the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later with a glass of white wine, which he placed on the coffee table in front of me, only after setting down a wood coaster first. He disappeared again, this time walking in the opposite direction, towards where I assumed the bedrooms and bathrooms were.

A minute later, "Yo. Bill. Come here." What a charming host he was proving to be.

I walked down the hall, pausing at each doorway, looking for Marty. As I darkened the threshold of what I gathered to be the master bedroom, Marty called out again.

"In here."

I walked to the bathroom doorway. Marty was just inside. He had a crooked smirk on his face, maybe his rendition of a smile. The bathroom was hot and humid, the steam hanging in the air and moisturizing my nostrils. A woman I assumed to be Susan was in the bathtub, only her head and neck above a thick blanket of bubble bath. Her hair was pinned up and fashioned in pigtails, a pink bow adorning each one. She was smiling broadly.

"Mmmm, you look good enough to eat. Come sit," she said, patting the edge of the tub with a foamy hand.

I glanced at Marty on my way to the tub. He still had the stupid-ass smirk on his face as his eyes jumped back and forth between Susan and me. I sat down on what seemed to be a dry spot.

"Marty, Bill doesn't have a drink. Could you get one for him?

"Yeah, I've got a glass of wine, but I left it in the living room. I'll go get . . ."

"Marty, go get Bill's wine."

He did as told, grumbling only slightly. As soon as he had disappeared, Susan turned on her brand of charm.

"I'm marinating it for you, you know, making it tender and tasty. You do like your meat tender, don't you Bill? And juicy, too? I bet you do." She was batting her false eyelashes at me, her husky voice attempting to purr. On the opposite edge of the tub sat an ashtray with a half-consumed cigarette yielding silver blue ribbons of smoke, lipstick marks on the filter. She brushed her fingers across a towel hanging behind her head, then picked up the cigarette, bringing it to her lips for a pull. She inhaled deeply and blew the smoke in the direction of my face. I'm not a smoker, so it didn't have the effect on me that she probably hoped it would. Hardly sexy.

"Let me guess," I said. "I'll bet you're naked under the bubbles. Am I right?"

"My, aren't you the smart ass tonight. What'd you do, go and fuck your wife before coming over here? And now you've lost that loving feeling? Hmmm?'

"Sorry. It's just been one of those days. No, no nooky yet for me tonight. I'm saving it all for you."

"Yeah, I'll bet you are." Marty's tone had not changed from the other night on the phone. He handed me the wineglass and I took a healthy swig. Then I took another, emptying the glass.

"Here, Marty, be a good boy and bring me another. Hmmm?" I gave him a little attitude of my own.

"Hey, listen, you . . ."

"Marty! Go get him another fucking glass of wine! And knock it off! I mean it! You'll be sleeping alone tonight . . . and I won't."

He more or less grabbed the glass from my grasp and trotted out of the room.

"Sorry Susan, but I've got a feeling tonight is just not going to be our night."

"Ooh, don't say that!" She had a petulant frown on her face. "If I have to throw his sorry ass out of the house, one way or the other you and me are gonna see how much of my brains you can fuck out. I'm bettin it's gonna be the other way around."

I hadn't seen any more of her than her head and arm, but she was sexy in a trailer-trash kind of way. She had a little button nose with freckles, and a slight overbite that actually was appealing. Her eyes were very blue, and her hair more red than I was led to believe. Looked kinda like Raggedy Ann on hormones. Never thought about Raggedy Ann as a sex object. Now Barbie, that's another story.

"You gonna fuck me? Please say you're gonna fuck me tonight. I'm soooo horny." I believed her.

Marty walked in with the wine. "Here ya go." His tone actually sounded animated and friendly.

"So," I said to no one in particular, "what's the game plan?"

"Game plan? Gee, I didn't know we needed one," Susan said. "I just assumed nature would take its course. Inter-course." She laughed at her own joke. "How about I get out of the tub and you take a towel and dry me off? Will that do for starters?"

"Sounds good to me," I said with veiled insincerity.

Susan slowly rose from the water, the foam clinging to various parts of her. Her nipples, set atop fairly small but very rounded breasts, were a baby pink, and quite erect. I had to admit to myself, she had a nice body, bubble butt and all. I felt a tingle in my gonads. I grabbed a large powder-blue towel from the rack and stepped up to her. I draped it over her shoulders, then rubbed the skin below, blotting up the soap and water.

As I moved the towel to her front, I dried off her boobs, pausing to massage them through the terry cloth. I rubbed on down her belly, removing the soap from her pubic area, revealing a neatly trimmed, two-inch patch of fine red hair. As I moved the towel south, I allowed my bare fingers to pass through the tuft, finding it as soft as it looked. I passed on the impulse to run a finger on down and into the folds of her pussy, preferring to wait until the timing was better, and Marty wasn't breathing down my neck.

After drying her lower legs, she parted them and allowed me to run the towel up the inner surfaces of her legs. Naturally, I concentrated more than necessary on her crotch, which evoked a soft murmur. Not from Marty —from Susan. Toweling off her smooth, rounded butt was a sensually stimulating procedure, for both of us.

"Marty," she said as she drained her tumbler of all but the ice, "Get me another drinkie poo . . . pretty please?"

He took the glass from her, pausing to check out her assets before turning and heading for the kitchen.

As soon as he left, Susan planted a very large kiss on my mouth, and in my mouth. I returned it with my tongue plunging into hers. We were both getting hot very quickly now. Her left hand swooped down and clutched my balls and most of my erection through the trousers. I flashed on an image and sensation of her adorable mouth closing over my cock, her prominent upper teeth gently dragging over the head, her wet tongue teasing the clear droplet that I could picture oozing from the eye at that moment. Her fingers adroitly slipped the zipper downwards, and darted inside to find the beast within. She found it (I didn't wear underwear that particular night).

As she dropped to her knees in front of me, she turned her head towards Marty, who had returned with her drink and was just standing there. "You behave tonight, and maybe I'll let you do you know what to you know who." She winked at her husband, then turned her full attention to me and mine.

Susan wasn't in the same league with Sherri when it came to blowjobs, but there is still an undeniable thrill when a woman you just met wraps her lips around your boner. Which sets you up for the next biggie: putting that same boner, lipstick smudges and all, into the dark mystery of womankind. As I pondered the glorious majesty of those supreme moments, I decided that I was also going to fuck her in the ass.

I wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of porking Marty's old lady on the tile floor of the bathroom. I whispered to her as she was bobbing her head three feet below my eyes, "Susan, I don't think I can wait another second to sink my cock in you. How about a nice soft bed so I can eat your cunt first, and then fuck the ever lovin' shit outta you."

She took her mouth off my gorgeous gristle long enough to reply. "I wanna do it in the living room, on the bear rug in front of the fireplace. Will you eat me out there, and then fuck me?"

"Whatever. Let's do it."

She took off on a near run, towing me behind her, on a beeline to the bear rug. She came to a screeching halt and plopped down on her back on the rug, her legs wide open—bon appetit.

I set aside any pretense of finesse, burying my face in her clean but goopy cunt. As I devoured her feline counterpart, she let out these animal grunts and growls, not unlike, I'm sure, the sounds made by a female warthog getting porked. I stuck my left middle finger as far up her ass as it would reach, prompting another non-human utterance. I was not only nibbling at her clit, I was nipping and sucking at it pretty hard, which only seemed to spur her on. When she came she howled, then shrieked, then let loose a blood-curdling whoop that I was sure was going to have the neighbors calling 9-1-1.

I flipped her over onto her hands and knees, driving my bone back into her with a vengeance. I banged her savagely, producing a loud smack of flesh against flesh with each thrust. Then I smacked her a good one on the right cheek of her ass, then another, then one on her left cheek. Susan was hysterical with delight, squealing with glee. As she came big and got ready to do it again, I pulled out and stuck it in her ass, not bothering to ease it in. Her ass was already slick as snot from the juice she was generating out of her cunt, and my dick was like a greased flagpole, so it went in without too much resistance.

I slapped her butt a few more times for good measure and Susan nearly passed out, her arms and legs wobbling. "Take it up your asshole, you raunchy cunt, you! I'm gonna split your fucking ass clear up to your slimy snatch!" Smack. "You're gonna come so hard your guts are gonna shoot outta your ass! Smack. "Say, 'Fuck me, Daddy!' Say it! "Fuck me, Daddy!"

"Oh, Jesus! Oh, please, fuck me, Daddy, FUCK MEEEE!!"

Susan was building up to the mother of all orgasms, as I continued to raise angry red welts in the shape of fingers on her butt. Keeping the last part of my bargain, I uncorked and replanted it up her snatch, which was so hot and wet and gaping, I could hardly feel my cock against the walls. It was enough, though. As she wailed and shrieked, I exploded into her, ramming the head so hard against the back of her cunt I could feel the jizz squirting out around it. I had grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, her back arching as her pelvis gyrated spasmodically. I couldn't believe how hard I was coming. Ol' Marty would have a real repast awaiting him in a few moments. Susan kept coming and coming, her body jerking around like she had a live wire up her ass, instead of a dying snake up her cunt. I didn't know how wild she normally got, but I felt pretty sure this was a fuck she'd remember for a long, long time.

As the dust settled, I pulled away, and Marty was right there to take my place. He affixed his mouth to her gaping hole, hungrily sucking and slurping every drop that he could draw out of her. This gave Susan one final shudder of orgasmic release.

"Damn!" I said, almost too loudly. They both looked at me, their brows furled with question. "We never got to see any dirty movies."

"Oh, jeez," Marty said as he shook his head.

"My fault," said Susan, apparently thinking I was being serious. "I totally forgot. We had them set out, too. Maybe next time?"

Fat chance, I thought. "Yeah, sure. Next time."

All my snide remarks aside, Susan was definitely one hot bitch, and the size of my launch attested to that fact. On my drive home, I found myself actually feeling glad I went. That, too, would soon pass.

The incoming mail dried up, so I set about to write a new ad, something that would still attract exhibitionists but of a different persuasion. I started with the basic premise that I enjoy watching nearly as much as doing. Added to that was my personal opinion that husbands and wives, generally speaking, fantasize about threesomes but are too chicken to do anything about it. From that, I came up with an ad that provided a fairly safe means by which couples might take that first big step. It was worth the gamble.

I have some experience using video-recording equipment, and own a camera, lights and a tripod. That, combined with a gift of bullshit, I figured was enough to get started. The ad read:

Will video couples having sex, U keep the tape. Experienced photog

will come to Ur home or loc of Ur choice. Script Ur own scenes. Discreet, non-threatening, fun memento.

The obvious benefit, of course, was that I'd get to watch people going at it, in the flesh. I was also banking on the man and woman, either both or one of them, being horny enough to ultimately make me a co-participant. If they didn't, it was no great loss, since I did get to play voyeur. But if they did, so much the better—for all concerned. It would be their initiation into group sex and perhaps a more enriching sex life for the two of them. Me, well, I'd get my ashes hauled. Fair trade.

Two weeks later the first response was in my mailbox. Written in a man's hand, it read:

Hi. My wife and I were intrigued by your ad. We are both professionals and very concerned about privacy and discretion and all that. We're also concerned about your behavior. If we decide to use your services, it must be understood that you are a photographer only, and not a participant. This is very important. My wife and I are very aware how arousing it is to view sexual activity, and need your assurance that you will respect our wishes and not try to assert yourself. That understood, I'd like to speak with you on the phone, as would my wife, to hear your position on these matters of concern. Please call us at the below-listed number any evening after 7:00 PM.

Larry and Barbara

555-4731

Well, he certainly sounded like a professional. Maybe even a lawyer. Maybe she is too. That would be gratifying—fucking a lawyer, instead of the other way around. He did sound pretty committed to keeping it a twosome, however, with me behind the camera. We'll see.

I called the number the following evening. Larry answered.

"Hi, my name is Bill. I received your letter in response to my ad—regarding videotaping services."

"Oh, yeah, hi. Glad you called. Look, Barbara's in the bathroom at the moment, but she'll get on the other line in a minute. You live in town?"

"Yeah, I do. On the West Side."

"We've lived here for nearly ten years, moved up from LA. Sure a lot nicer here. You from here originally?"

"Just the last five years or so. Native of Oregon. In some respects it's nice here, but I miss the year round greenery. Of course, green means a lot of rain, so I guess it's a tradeoff."

"Yeah, I . . . Hold on." I heard him call out Barbara's name and tell her to pick up the other phone.

"Hello?"

"Barbara, this is Bill on the line. He placed the video ad."

"Oh, hi Bill." She sounded somewhat soft-spoken.

"So, Bill, you read my letter. Did I express my concerns plainly enough?"

"Of course. I have no problem with any of it. You can be completely assured of my discretion, and, to put your other concern to rest, I am the photographer. Period. I want the two of you to enjoy yourselves and, frankly, be as uninhibited as you can. The whole idea of this is to give you guys something to enjoy later, just the two of you. I've been around the block more than a few times, so you have no reason to be worried that I'll let my hormones take control."