The Best Erotic Stories.

Second Chances
by Sue D'Nimm

She was ramming his cock, as hard as she could now, deeply down her throat. She gently squeezed his balls with each thrust and closed her mouth around the shaft, sucking it like a lollilop, milking it with her tongue, drawing every last precious drop of sperm down her eager throat.

Alice could feel Milton's body convulse as he came, exploding in her mouth, his hands grasping her long silky brown hair before his arms finally relaxed against the sheets. His breaths grew deeper and slower, before deteriorating into snores. Milton had fallen asleep as usual.

After two decades of marriage, their lovemaking had devolved to the robotic plane. Alice was now reduced to MonaLewinskying Milton each Saturday night at precisely 9:30 P.M. He no longer even seemed to have the energy for his weekly missionary ride in her willing cunt.

Alice's fingers absently circled her erect, rosy nipples before tracing their way down the still firm muscles of her abdomen to stroke her throbbing mound. It had not always been like this, she thought, but she should not have been surprised at the way things turned out.

After all, the very first time she kissed Milton it had been on his cock, already brought to full erection by his extremely generous girlfriend and expert fluffer Ellen Dantoni. It had happened at the beach house, during Milton's drunken excuse for an nineteenth birthday party. With all the other birthday revelers conveniently passed out on the floor, Alice had staggered up the stairs in search of the bathroom. She had mistakenly opened the door to the guest room, revealing Ellen and Milton's naked bodies, intertwined in the moonlight.

"Come join us," Ellen had whispered, her brown breasts heaving in the darkness, her arms raised to receive Alice.

Urinary needs forgotten for the moment, Alice had not hesitated. She had simply stripped off her clothes and come to them, her first touch being that of Milton's throbbing cock upon her slithering tongue.

She remembered how Ellen had hugged her, her soft breasts laying against her back as she rode Milton for the first time.

A week later Milton had dumped Ellen in favor of Alice, and the rest, as they say, was history. She had heard Ellen was working at some women's shelter over in Providence now. People said she had turned to the love of women after her experience with Milton. Alice hoped she that she had finally found the happiness she deserved.

As her fingers reached her mound, Alice remembered that the party had occurred on the same night Johnny Hartley died in that fiery crash.

She had been dreaming of Johnny lately, of the way his eyes used to undress her during their American lit class. He had the eyes of a poet, but no one had really understood him. Milton, on the other hand, had the eyes of an actuary. His life's partner was his consulting firm, not his wife.

Alice suspected Johnny's death had been a suicide. Everyone knew about the cliff up on the bluff. It was a popular parking spot. She had seen Johnny up there all the time. He knew where the cliff was. His driving off it had been no accident.

As she stroked herself, she imagined Johnny's hands on her breasts, his mouth down below. He had been the one, she thought. He alone had the soul to be consumed by the love of a woman. To be consumed by her.

She actually felt Johnny inside her when she came, almost as if he were being made real by her fantasies.

Just like the dreams, she thought as she drifted off to asleep. They too were becoming more and more real.

Johnny called to her again.

This time she could even see his eyes, set against the clouds. They were filled with a deep hunger, a consuming passion for Alice's very soul.

Come to the place of my dying, his voice whispered to her, his full lips unmoving, and I will be made real again. Life gives the chosen few a second chance. Don't squander the gift that is offered to you.

She awoke in a deep sweat. This dream had been even more real than the last one.

She knew what she had to do.

She fumbled around in the darkness for her keys, glanced back at Milton's snoring form, and headed for the garage.

On the way to the bluff, the radio started acting up. Alice's favorite talk station seemed to be suddenly off the air, as if it had never existed. No matter which button she pushed, each station was featuring the ever forgettable music of the '70s. Right now she was being treated to Minnie Ripperton.

Loving you. It's easy 'cause you're beautiful.

The steering wheel even felt strange. Thinner. Suddenly she realized that she was no longer driving the Cherokee, but her dad's old Chevy Nova.

She looked at her hands. The slack skin and wrinkles around her knuckles were gone. She now wore the skin of a teenager. Her body and mind felt more alert, more alive than they had in years.

She really was in the past now.

As she pulled off the road into the lookout point on the bluff, she saw Johnny's red T-bird waiting for her. Just as she knew it would be.

"Fa la la la la la. Fa la la la la la. Fa la la la la la la la," the long dead Minnie Ripperton observed..

She turned off the engine, piled out of the Nova and walked over to Johnny's car.

"Hi, Johnny. Need any company tonight?" she asked him.

He rolled down the driver's side window. Alice could smell whiskey and the stale smell of cigarettes on Johnny's breath. She saw the empty bottle of Jim Beam nestled snugly in the passenger seat.

"Sure, baby," Johnny said, caressing the stubble on his chin and nodding his head toward his now empty, and therefore useless, glass companion sprawled in the adjoining seat. "Get in."

Alice walked around and let herself in on the passenger side. Once she had displaced the empty bottle from its resting place, she turned to face Johnny. "Are you all right, Johnny?" she asked him, her voice full of concern.

"I am now, baby," he told her, as he ripped her blouse and bra from her chest. He savagely bit her right tit and forced her hand onto his crotch. Vaguely recalling the self-defense lessons from Norma Thorton's consciousness-raising group in the early '80s, she viciously twisted Johnny's conveniently offered genitals, grabbed her torn garments, and ran from the car.

She heard the T-bird's motor revving up. "Come back here, you fucking cockteaser," Johnny yelled as he floored the accelerator.

He meant to run her down, Alice knew as she deftly stepped aside and watched the T-bird plummet over the cliff.

So this is how Johnny dies, she thought. Not in some suicidal funk, but trying to run down the ghost of her future self after a frustrated rape attempt. So much for the misunderstood poet theory. So much for lost chances.

She headed back toward the Nova, ignoring the flames and explosions on the rocks below.

As she drove the Nova back from the bluff, she waited for it to change back into the Cherokee, but it never did. It appeared that she was going to be stuck in the past for good. She decided to head over to Milton's birthday party, maybe meet her former self, give her a few quick words of advice.

When she pulled onto the front lawn of the beach house she saw the duplicate copy of her Nova, but it quickly faded into nothingness, leaving her a convenient parking spot. She pulled the present Nova into the space vacated by its doppelganger, got out and started walking in the direction the house.

When she opened the front door, she saw all of her former childhood friends passed out in exactly the same positions they had occupied twenty years before.

There was no sign of her former self. Alice supposed that the laws of physics might allow for only one copy of Alice Swenson in these here space-time parts. She walked over to the easy chair she had been sitting in those many years ago before going up to indulge in the threesome with Milton and Ellen Dantoni. She tentatively put her hand out to feel it. The seat was still warm.

With some trepidation, she walked up the stairs and opened the door to the guest room. There was still no sign of the other Alice. Just Milton and Ellen intertwined in the moonlight as before.

"Come join us," Ellen whispered, her brown breasts heaving in the darkness, her arms raised to receive Alice.

Alice came. But this time to Ellen rather than Milton. She buried her face in Ellen's crotch, tasting the sweet juices of her cunt.

Ellen raised Alice's lips to hers and kissed her deeply and passionately, before allowing Alice to resume her ministrations to her cunt.

As Alice drank Ellen's sweet juices, she felt Milton enter her from behind. He fucked her hard and deep, but it was Ellen's mouth she kissed and Ellen's arms that enveloped her as she came.

As the years went by, she knew she had made the right choice. As Ellen so astutely observed one night not so long ago, stroking Alice's hair as they lay in bed together, "Men are nothing but pigs."


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