Kat Gets Wild

According to her driver's license Kat was fifty, but she looked like she was thirty, and felt like she was nineteen. Kat was (almost) 5'2", 118 lbs. of pure, sweet, feminine sexual heat.

Without Ray around, Kat found herself barhopping along the coast (although she assiduously avoided theBeach Time). Emboldened by anonymity, she dressed for maximum impact at the bars where the young guys hung. Super-short skirts covered skimpy panties and were topped by thin, spaghetti-strapped tank tops that covered nothing but bare skin.

She loved grinding her alluring body against the strong young men who asked her to dance to slow songs. Wrapping her arms around her dance partner's neck, she would eagerly open her legs so she could ride his thigh, sliding her thong covered cunt up and down his upper leg giving herself small, shivering, surreptitious climaxes.

Her activities were so enthusiastically erotic, she never lacked for the companionship of the hottest studs wherever she went.

Sometimes, Kat let things get a bit out of control. It might begin with making out on the dance floor -- she still loved to kiss. If the guy were an exceptional kisser, Kat might let him take some liberties with her body, holding her ass or cupping her tit while they danced. The light petting turned her on and fed her fantasies as she later masturbated in bed.

If Kat were exceptionally turned on, or sufficiently inebriated, and the guy exceptionally cute, she'd let him walk her to her car where she'd hump him against her car and continued tongue fucking each others' mouths. She began slipping cocks out of pants, jerking her eager young bucks off as they kissed.

She loved how she could control those horny young men with her fist, how she could make them stand with their hard cocks exposed to anyone who might happen by just to feel her soft hand caressing their flesh.

Kat loved cocks; she truly did. Ever since she had seen her first one, cocks were a wonderment to her. They both frightened and aroused her.

For the longest time the fear controlled her. Fear of pregnancy, fear of becoming a slut, fear of being ridiculed for her interest, fear of being cast out by her friends and family, fear of losing control of her life. Now the arousal was taking over.

It was only in these last few months that she began to yield more wantonly to her aches. Jerking those cocks and kissing amorously, she let the guys feel her body, squeezing her nipples and massaging her ass, trying to move their hands under her skirt to rub her dripping pussy.

If their groping became too eager or their hands threatened to push her, prematurely, into the chasm where orgasms dwell, she found she could easily distract them by pulling more insistently on their boners.

"Are you going to cum for me?" Kat would whisper while stroking the guy's cock and licking his earlobe. His hands would leave her body seeking the support of the steel of her car to compensate for jelly of his legs.

"Shoot it, baby...for me. I want to see you cum." At these times, she became a true wildcat, pushing against her partner, sucking a hickey onto his neck. Let him explain that to his wife she thought impishly. Kat knew that, like she herself, most of the men at the bars were married.

Long or short, fat or thin, she loved their hard cocks. The guys they were attached to had to have certain characteristics: at least 6 feet tall (Ray was 6'3"); nicely muscled; very dark or very blond hair; clean, white teeth; and full, very kissable lips.

Sometimes Kat could be cruel, especially when the guy was hung on the diminutive side. Invariably, the guys with the tiniest cocks came the quickest. She felt sorry for their wives: short straw on size and short straw on endurance. She guessed those women owed the majority of their non-orally induced orgasms to fake dicks.

"Mmmm, I love your big, hard dick," Kat would whisper wickedly whenever she realized she could almost cup some "stud's" hard cock and balls in one hand. "I bet you've got a lot of cum in there for me. Let me see you shoot."

Interestingly, such men often did shoot their loads far. Perhaps it only seemed that way. Perhaps it was the same distance as her better-hung "dates" but that more of the trajectory was outside their dicks.

Kat was fond of the quick climaxers. Nothing let the heat out of a long evening's tease like having to jerk a guy off for half an hour. She'd sent more than one slow shooter home with sore nuts when he'd had excessive difficulty getting off.

Then she discovered a delectable alternative. In fact, it was a guy himself who suggested it when Kat pulled her hand away and told him he was taking too long.

"Wait," he said, "don't leave me like this. I'll do it myself and you can watch."

So she watched, fascinated, becoming increasingly aroused as the guy leaned against her car beating his meat. When he shot off, she stuck her hand in front of his stream to feel his hot, sticky semen. She rubbed his cum on his slippery shaft pushing his own hand off the dick.

When he finally stopped spurting, softening, then getting a tickling feeling whenever she touched his genitals, Kat reached up, cupping his face with her cum coated palm as she kissed him a last time before wiping her semen slicked hand on his shirt. She knew that now he had cum, he was eager to depart, and she didn't need to drive home with a jism soaked hand.

Now, a few quick strokes after the intensely erotic thrill of touching the guy's bare cock and pulling it out of his pants, Kat suggested that if he wanted to get off, he would have to perform the feat himself with her as audience.

"Mmmm, baby," she'd tell them, "my wrist is a little sore. Why don't you do it yourself and let me watch you. I love seeing a hot guy jerk off."

After an evening of intense teasing by a woman as sexy and beautiful as Kat, none of the men were in a position to refuse her request.

She enjoyed a special thrill whenever she saw a couple or a group of females stare as her guy of the evening pulled his pud while she rubbed her hand against his chest, down his flat stomach to his thigh sometimes holding his fast-pounding forearm in her own hand to encourage his efforts.

Were those women as titillated Kat knew she'd be at catching a couple playing in public? Would the women demand sex from their partners at home? Or would they prefer self-gratification where they could tailor their stimulation to their imaginings directly without the necessity to translate desires to speed up or slow down to another's manipulations?

It was while she was "entertaining" a stud by watching him masturbate in a bar parking lot that Lisa came back into Kat's life.

"Kat, is that you?" Lisa asked as Kat stood nuzzling a pecker yanking youth. Kat looked up from the stroking hand and smiled at the vivacious realtor.

"It is you! Oh my, you look good, don't you."

The hand humper couldn't control his stroking as the two beauties exchanged greetings. When Lisa gave Kat a peck on the lips and watched too, it caused him to stroke faster.

"Who's this cute young thing with the desperate need?" Lisa asked. "Was it you who put him in such a state? He's most eager to conclude his business, isn't he?"

Kat found Lisa's banter as the pair watched the fisted cock approach release exciting beyond belief. Two women commenting about his show was just so naughty and stimulating.

Oh god!" the guy screamed as he sent stream after stream of cock slop arcing into the humid night before splashing across the cracked macadam pavement.

"Ooooo!" squealed Lisa when the young man finished his fireworks, "that was exciting! Kat, you simply must invite me next time you go prowling. Promise me."

"Thanks sweetie," Kat told her nearly forgotten pick up, giving him a kiss on his cheek and tickling his now unloaded, scrotum causing him to push her hand away.

The women giggled softly as he quickly tucked his deflated warrior back into his pants, zipping up as he scurried toward his car.

Shortly after that night, Kat got a call from Lisa to go out, well, catting. Kat soon discovered Lisa was headed to someplace forbidden. As Lisa guided her big Cadillac Escalade into the lot at theBeach Time, the place Kat had sworn an oath never to enter, Kat was tingling all over.

The most prominent fashion statements in the bar were jeans and leather vests without shirts for the men and short skirts and tank tops without bras for the women.

Lisa led Kat to two open stools at the bar. They nursed their light beers while some rough looking dudes eyed them hungrily. Suddenly the bar got quiet. The Man had arrived.

Jake owned a tattoo parlor along the beach. As he stood in the doorway, Kat stared in awe like a wide-eyed four-year-old on her first visit to Disney World. Jake was tall and muscular. Very, very muscular. He could easily kick the ass of any four guys there, and probably had at one time or another.

Jake blocked the light from the doorway like a solar eclipse. His chest was massive; his biceps larger than Kat's thighs. He had a twenty-one inch neck. His bald head shined like polished onyx. His skin was the color of a Hershey Bar.

As The Man approached the bar Kat saw his jeans were tight and his vest was open. He didn't remover his mirrored sunglasses. Jake walked behind Kat before standing next to Lisa. He bent and kissed Lisa on the lips. It would be the least astonishing thing he would do to Kat's friend.

As the black man stood next to Lisa and signaled for a drink, Kat noticed two redheads walking toward the egress with a couple of bikers boys they'd picked up. It appeared they altered their exit route when they spotted Jake.

As the women neared the trio at the bar, they stopped and one ran her hand up Jake's back and down his arm in an obvious gesture of admiration. It appeared that either would have readily dumped her date if she could pry Jake away from Lisa.

"Jake, honey, I been missing you. Why haven't you stopped by? My man's away for the rest of the month and my skin's getting a little dry," said the woman stroking Jake's arm. She touched her face to emphasize what needed moisturizing.

"Mmm hmm," Jake replied. Then moving his gaze to her hotter looking friend and asked, " What about you baby? You looking for a facial too?"

"Why put it on the backboard, sweetie, when you can dunk it?" she replied licking her lips and causing Jake to chuckle. He told her to "stop by the shop sometime."

As they passed Kat, she judged the women to be in their early forties, maybe younger, but looked older than either she or Lisa. The guys they were leaving with were late twenties, early thirties, definitely tough looking.

"Hey baby, where you been?" Jake asked turning back to Lisa.

"Been here and there," Lisa answered, hooking her arm through his.

"You ain't called. I been expecting you to stop by."

"I'm free, white, and twenty-one. I stop where I choose."

"You free? You got a husband, so I hear." With that, Jake scooped Lisa up by her waist and placed her bottom lightly on the bar. At the same time, he slid onto the now vacant stool next to Kat.

Lisa sat on the bar with her feet dangling on either side of side of Jake's hips. Somehow he had also managed to slip his hand under Lisa short skirt. From the movement of the material, it was obvious Jake's finger was caressing Lisa's pussy.

Anybody in the bar could have seen. Kat's mouth hung open as she stared at the movements of the skirt. Despite her utter disbelief at the shocking sight before her, she could not have been more excited if it were her pussy being fingered.

"Who's this?" Jake asked turning toward Kat. He continued to stroke Lisa.

"Ummm," Lisa moaned, responding to the black man's touch. She leaned back on the bar and spread her legs wider, "that's Kat. I sold her a condo, and she's VERY married."

"You're gorgeous," Jake told Kat, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. He bent his head and offered Kat a kiss like he'd given Lisa.

Kat was startled at the intimate greeting from someone who was so taboo in her world. Jake was the wrong class, much, much too young, and the racial aspect had her head spinning.

Jake did not place his lips against Kat's leaving a gap that Kat herself would have to close if she wanted the oral contact. She didn't know whether it was from embarrassment or confusion or pure desire, but she did touch her puckered lips to his.

"My finger tells me you're keeping things shaved," said Jake turning his focus back to Lisa. Kat couldn't move as she replayed the quick peck in her mind. Her lips were still tingling. She squirmed in her seat.

"Your old man seen the ink I put on you?" Jake asked the woman whose cunt he was rubbing.

"He's seen it. I told you he likes to do a lot of kissing down that way."

"Show Kat what I gave you," Jake said withdrawing his hand from under Lisa's skirt.

"Kat's not that kind. She's not interested in tattoos, are you Kat?"

Kat was so scared and so excited by the black man seated next to her, she couldn't speak. She could just barely shake her head no.

"What's wrong, baby, you ashamed of ol' Jake's work?" the younger man asked. "How am I supposed to let you stop by when you don't think my art is good enough to show to a friend?"

Even though there were half a dozen men standing nearby watching what Jake was doing with Lisa, she pulled up her skirt and showed Kat the rattlesnake that coiled menacingly about an inch to the right of Lisa's bare slit. The snake's tail curled upward and ended hooking downward right at the top of the slit.

"Here's her rattle," Jake told Kat as he eased Lisa's pussy lips apart and flicked across her clit with his index finger. Lisa moaned audibly.

"That really makes it shake," Jake chuckled before taking his hand away and pulling Lisa skirt over her leaking snatch.

"Damn you," hissed Lisa, snakelike. "You better be home later! You got some unfinished business."

"Tell Kat why you want to come over," Jake taunted the beautiful wife every guy in the bar would love to nail." Lisa started to protest but Jake gave her thigh a warning pinch.

Lisa put a hand on each of her parted knees in the universal display indicating a man was well hung. They were easily a foot apart. She looked Kat in the eye and smiled.

"Why you always selling me short, baby?" Jake teased. Then, "Show her what you be wantin'."

Lisa formed her hand into a "C" like she was holding onto something cylindrical. Making an oval with her lips, she moved her hand in a stroking motion like she was directing what she had in her hand into her mouth. Simultaneously and synchronized with her hand movements, she poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek.

Kat had never seen the gesture before but two things were obvious. Lisa was demonstrating the perfect pantomime for a hummer in a game of X-rated charades. And the movements were so polished, she must have spent hours in front of a mirror practicing them until they were perfect.

"Maybe your quiet friend wants to come along," Jake suggested.

"Maybe next time," Lisa answered much to Kat's relief. Then Lisa hopped off the bar onto Jake's lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave The Man a longing kiss.

Kat spent the entire next day alone in her condo. The events of the night before had brought back a memory, long repressed, undoing a self-imposed, case of selective amnesia.

She was still in high school, senior year. She was feeling edgy and went to her parents bedroom hoping to find another hot novel like Peyton Place. What she found stunned her. Not some trashy, reality-romance book but a sealed envelope.

Kat held it up to the light hoping to see what was inside. She ended up steaming it open. What she found were pictures. Not just any pictures either.

The woman in the black-and-white photos could not be recognized. Most of her face was cropped. But the fact that she was sucking a cock was unmistakable. Not a high schooler's cock like Kat herself had enjoyed at cheerleader camp. The cock in the photos was huge. At least as shocking as its size was its color: coal black.

The series held various shots. The cock was completely withdrawn from the woman's mouth establishing its enormousness. It could be seen deeply buried between her lips and various points in between. The final shot had the cock jammed into the mouth and what could only have been gobs of semen leaking out between the sides of the cock and the lucky female's tightly stretched lips.

As Kat resealed the envelope, she suddenly recalled the photos had not been kept in her father's nightstand, but her mother's!

Two days later, Kat returned to her parent's room. She needed to see those pictures once more but they were gone. Later, her mother grabbed Kat by the arm and gripped her so tight, it hurt.

"Stay out of my bedroom and my drawers," her mother told her in a voice Kat had never heard before. The incident had shaken her so completely, that Kat buried it deep in her subconscious.

Now thoughts of those pictures were back. The scene that Lisa and Jake had performed in theBeach Time had unlocked the mental safe into which they had been locked more than thirty years before.

Now the images were different. The woman was no longer anonymous. Kat saw her own face, her own mouth hungrily devouring that big, black cock. The cock was Jake's, the one of mythical proportions that would stretch from one of Lisa's palms to the other as she held them wide apart atop her thighs.

In her South Florida bedroom, Kat found a zippered bag in the back of her closet. Inside was her favorite dildo, the one that Ray didn't know about. The big, black one. Kat took it out and lay on her bed. Naked.

She felt the heft of the gel phallus with her hand. It wasn't quite as long or as thick as the prick in her mental pictures, but the color was right. Kat pulled her legs up and spread them giving her a familiar entrée to her pussy.

Kat began squeezing the hard nipple on her left breast while sliding the simulated dick down her belly. She rubbed it up and down her labia in the same manner she always did when teasing herself, distributing her juices along the surface, lubricating her instrument of self pleasure, getting it ready to thrust inside her.

She paused with the cock head at the opening of her slit and moved her other hand down between her legs. Using her fingers to spread her kitty, Kat and began gentle, invasive thrusts. Abruptly, she stopped herself.

Suddenly, it wasn't her pussy she wanted to please. She brought the black, plastic phallus to her lips and began kissing it. She licked her juices off the head and discovered how good she tasted.

Kat began fellating the dildo, licking and sucking as if it were the real thing. She sucked passionately as if that might actually get what her mind was now demanding: black man's cum. Kat realized that, more than anything, she wanted to suck Jake off. She wanted him to fuck her mouth and shoot all his cum in there for her to swallow.

Kat began to spasm as she drove her black tube in and out of her mouth while humping the air with her bare cunt. God she loved getting off better than anything. As Kat came, squirting liquid onto the bed sheet, her new fantasy had become a need.

* * * *

She had flown American Airlines flight 486 out of O'Hare so many Saturday mornings over the past two years that Kat knew the first class stewardess by name. As she settled into the plush leather of seat 4D, she smiled at the tall glass of tomato juice containing a celery stick, a sprinkle of pepper and wedge of lemon.

It didn't seem to matter how many times Kat made this flight, that first sip of Bloody Mary made with a double shot of Grey Goose, provided sublime relaxation and mental transportation to her stress free destination hours before the aircraft would deliver her there.