Memories as Fantasies

I guess everyone has favorite sexual fantasies they use from time to time to get themselves off on lonely evenings before drifting off to sleep. I know I do. Probably what's different in my case is that my best fantasy is actually a memory. It began in my sophomore year of college. I was nineteen.

My sophomore year in college I had shacked up with my boyfriend, a man I dearly loved. He was a senior, older and wiser, and also while not the first, nor the second, nor even the third man who had ever bedded me, he was my first long term relationship. I was in love, and I was convinced at the time it could not get better than it was.

What was special about Rob was he that he understood my need for discipline. I loved how he would tie me up and ravish me, sometimes whipping me if I had been bad, and taking me anally as a special punishment, which I secretly loved. No other man had ever realized I had these needs, and in fact before I fell in with Rob, I myself had not realized it. I really did need it, though. I loved the slightly sadistic discipline he provided me on a regular basis.

True, I did not like that on occasion he would beat me, but those occasions were rare, and at those times I felt that he was justified because inevitably I would have royally screwed up. I never told anyone about the beatings because I just knew they would want to intervene on some level, and I was not prepared for that. I mention this just to explain that while I thought life with him was perfect, perhaps I was just a little naïve. I knew deep down the discipline was fine, but the beatings were not. I just could not admit it to myself.

My mother called one day. It was a Wednesday in March and the daffodils were poking up out of the ground. I could see the beginnings of tulips, partially hidden in their leaves. One of her best friends from her college days was coming to New York the next weekend, together with her son Carl who was a college senior, and she asked me to show him around New York, and to "show him a good time."

I'm sure my mother had no idea of the sexual implications of the phrase "to show a man a good time." I told her I couldn't do it. I had theater tickets, I had too much school work, I was planning to get a migraine headache, and I was fairly sure I was coming down with the flu, I had really bad PMS, and oh yes, that particular weekend I was going to Boston for the wedding of an old high school friend. Nothing worked. She really wanted me to do it.

"He'll pick you up Friday night. Wear something cheerful and bright. Try not to look like a refugee from a motorcycle gang, okay?" she said.

"Yes, Mom," I replied. If I had to count the number of times I had said 'Yes, Mom' up to that point in my life, I would have needed at least four digits, maybe five. I explained the situation to my boyfriend Rob, and to my surprise he handled it with aplomb, mostly I think because he knew I was dreading it. Blind dates with men my Mom sets up for me are not my idea of fun. They're nobody's idea of fun.

Carl showed up on time. I had picked a time for him to come when I knew Rob would not be home. He was good looking, so at least I would not be embarrassed to be in his presence. One point for Mom. He took me out for Peruvian food at a secret little restaurant he knew about. I had never before had Peruvian food and it was wonderful. Two points for Mom.

The wine was good, too, and even though I was 19 and obviously not yet 21, I looked as if I were 21 in my nice clothes with my prominent boobs, and we polished off a full bottle of a delicious red Chilean wine from the Maipo Valley. That was after two cocktails, too, and I was feeling no pain. Full marks for Mom. This was becoming the best blind date ever.

Carl then took me dancing at a little club he knew about down in the Village, and when a slow song came, he pulled me into him, and my body just melted into his as I wrapped my arms about his neck. He put his hands around my waist, and I ground my body against the area of his sex, which responded nicely to my actions.

Indeed, Carl's groin responded remarkably. Can a man's cock even be that big, I thought at the time? I can be bad at times, and as such I enjoy being a tease. Carl's hands moved south to cup my ass cheeks. I have a tiny ass, and Carl had huge hands, so my cheeks were nicely cupped, and it felt really sexy. It felt even sexier that I was letting him treat me that way in public, as if I were a tramp, or a slut, or something like that.

It was a clear and beautiful evening and after the village we took a cab to Battery Park to look out at the Statue of Liberty, all lit up at night. I'm a sucker for such a romantic gesture, but it was also a windy and cold evening. I was shivering. Carl wrapped me up in his jacket, it being warm from having just been on his body and feeling the warmth from that hunky male body being passed to me was erotic. Carl held me tight to keep me warm. It was a magical moment, and when he went to kiss me I kissed him back and poured affection into my kiss, while once again grinding his hard cock with my tummy.

We went to a bar down there to warm up, but Carl made an innocent mistake and it was a girlie bar. Carl turned bright red. I handled it easily, giggling and laughing, but Carl's shame for having taken me to such a place was palpable.

"It's okay, Carl," I told him. "I know what a girl's boobs look like, you know. I've looked in a mirror. Besides, there's such variety with women's boobs. This way I can check out the competition. Welcome to New York."

Carl smiled. "I'm sure none of these pretty women can compare to you, Joanne," he said, and I think it was at that moment I was seduced. We had a couple more drinks, and it became time for Carl to take me home. At that point, I am sure I could not have walked a straight line, nor touched my nose with my index finger. I was plastered.

I wanted a chance to make out, just a little, with this hunk of a man who had shown me the best evening I had had in a long time, maybe ever. If he took me home, Rob would be there, and that would be that. "Let's go to your hotel instead of my place," I said. "I have a live-in boyfriend." Just like my mom earlier, I was not thinking of the possible implications of such a suggestion. Like stupid mother, like even stupider daughter.

Carl looked at me funny, and I immediately regretted having mentioned the existence of Rob. So, I added, "He beats me, you know."

Now Carl looked at me. In retrospect I think he was flummoxed, with a "Who is this woman? What is it with this woman?" attitude. At the time, however, in my drunken state, I thought he did not believe me.

"He hits me where it won't show. Where the sun does not shine, you know?" I said. He nodded, but he looked skeptical. So right there, in the girlie bar, I lifted my blouse and pulled down my bra, and showed him my black and blue boobs. I quickly covered up once he saw the bruises. I figured since it was a girlie bar, no harm, right?

I had not realized at the time how sexually aggressive such a gesture was. I was only trying to prove my veracity at the time, not to arouse Carl or to give him the wrong idea. I had not thought about what a provocative gesture it was to expose myself publicly in front of Carl. It's not your typical first date activity. This was my big mistake number two.

"My hotel it is," Carl said. He was staying at the Marriott at Times Square, the world's most anonymous hotel. Gun toting terrorists could stay there and nobody would notice. The place is mobbed by conventioneers, all the time, and you can identify them by their badges.

"Let's pretend we're with the convention," I said. Carl's eyes twinkled. He liked the mischievous idea. We saw some unclaimed name badges and grabbed them, telling the person manning the table we were late and would come back later to sign in and all. We entered a party quickly and mingled. I began the show by going up to a good-looking guy, around 40 something, and after having read his name badge in advance, I said while looking straight at his face, "You must be Michael Stevenson, right? I believe we met last year at one of these conferences."

I had arranged for my name tag to be pinned to my left boob, and he looked at it to see my name, giving himself an excuse to study my boobs, and he said, "Marcy, right?"

"I knew you'd remember," I said. I introduced him to Carl, whose name tag said he was Saunders, but I explained he hated that name and used his middle name Carl. I got lucky, and we both liked Michael Stevenson, and he liked us, and if following his eyes as the evening wore on was any indication, he certainly liked my boobs. We helped ourselves to the free desserts and especially the free liquor, and somehow it seemed natural when Michael joined Carl and me as we went up to Carl's room.

I wanted Carl to kiss me so much, just like he had done at Battery Park about two hours earlier, but the presence of Michael seemed to paralyze him. I took control and I kissed him. The kiss was, if anything, even better than the one in Battery Park! I had forgot about Michael, who must have been watching us kiss, and after the third kiss and a lot of groping on Carl's part, Michael pulled me away from Carl.

Before I could say 'what are you doing?' Michael was kissing me. It was my first kiss from a mature man, one probably at least twenty years older than I was, and it was a doozy. I kissed him right back. He was more aggressive than Carl, and when the kiss ended my skirt was unzipped and he was pushing it down.

The idea of sex with two men at once was so foreign to me at the time, I naively did not see it coming. Despite all my sexual perversion with Rob, I was basically an innocent young college girl at the time. I was a one-man-at-a-time-thank-you-very-much kind of girl. Innocent and unsuspecting yes, but I was also adventurous and flexible.

I have to admit, even though I could not admit it even to myself at the time, however, that two men back to back was a major, even a super major, sexy idea. I was however not prepared for the reality of what had hitherto been only a hot occasional sexual fantasy.

"Give me a hand with Marcy, won't you Carl?" Michael said, and the two men undressed me as I stood there in a combination of shock and drunken stupor. In less than a minute I was wearing only my panties, which were the 'mesh lace up cheeky panties' of Victoria's Secret. Rob always insisted I wear sexy underwear.

Michael said, "Someone beats you, Marcy. Is it Carl?"

"No, it's my boyfriend Rob." I knew where this was going, so I said, "If he ever finds any of your cum on me, it'll be bad."

"We'll use rubbers then," Michael said.

"We?" I asked, looking at each of them in turn. I was beginning to get scared. I was not at all sure about this!

"Yes," they both said, in unison. This made me thoroughly wet and thoroughly terrified simultaneously.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea. Even one of you is not a good idea, I have a boyfriend, remember? Both of you is beyond the pale. Even as drunk as I am, I'm not that kind of girl," I said. I ran to the bathroom and closed and locked the door. I was hyperventilating. Looking back, I now realize I was having a panic attack. Once I had calmed down, breathing into cupped hands covering my nose and mouth, I figured I'd use the toilet since it was right there, after all.

As I sat on the toilet tinkling away, as I still call it, I tried to think with my alcohol addled brain. It wasn't easy. I would never see Michael again, of that I was sure, so did it really matter if I fucked him? He did not even know my name and was still calling me Marcy.

Carl in contrast I really liked and would not mind dating him once I dumped my "wife beating" loser of a boyfriend whom I hopelessly loved. Of course, he went to school in Chicago, so the prospects of dating him seemed quite remote. If I had sex with both men just then however, I would never see Carl again either, I was sure.

On the other hand, would I ever see Carl again, anyway? Wasn't I just a good time girl while he was in New York? So, I figured, what's the harm? Men use tarts to have a good time, sure, but they don't follow up and date them.

When I finally emerged from the toilet, smiling broadly, my bouncing boobs leading the way, I found two naked men, both sporting enormous erections. I did not know men's cocks could get that big, and bear in mind I had already been intimate with four men and had given blowjobs to a few more in my wild high school days. I realized my worldly sophistication was not as good as I had previously thought.

Nice, I said to myself. I wonder what they'll feel like inside me? Maybe the alcohol distorts the perception of size? Somehow, I doubted that. I looked forward to finding out, in the interest of scientific inquiry, of course.

Michael took the initiative and placed me on my back on the big, luxurious double bed. He slowly and gently removed my mesh lace up cheeky panties, receiving now no objection from me. I even lifted my hips to help him. He rendered me completely nude in a room with two nude men. I was ready to be ravished. Let the games begin, I thought to myself.

Michael surprised me by going down on me. Rob never does that. Oh my goodness he was good, too. Nobody had to draw Michael a road map to my clitoris, which is small and hidden. No, he found it right away. More precisely, his magical tongue found it right away.

Michael supplemented his oral ministrations with his fingers, sticking one gently inside my soaking wet love canal, then after a bit adding a second, then after another little bit adding a third. I'm pretty sure a fourth finger would not have fit and thank goodness he did not try.

His other hand, however, slipped underneath me as he ate me and fingered me, and soon I had a finger from his other hand probing my asshole. Seconds later I lost it and being completely out of control I screamed out my orgasm at a full soprano scream. In reality, I am a coloratura soprano, and had there been a dog in the room he would have gone nuts with my scream.

After my totally unsubtle climax, which I imagine all the neighboring hotel rooms heard, Michael stopped fingering me. He rose up, and I was fully expecting him to fuck me silly at that point, but he stepped away from me. Carl came up to me. He got on top of me and as he did I noticed he was wearing a rubber. A microsecond later he was inside me. Three more microseconds and he was pumping away. Four more microseconds elapsed and I was moaning in my coloratura style. It was wonderful. The jury was in. Large cocks are nice. Live and learn, I thought at the time.

Carl rolled us over, and I was on top, and as I fucked him to the best of my ability, I felt Michael's finger again probing my ass. I had decided back when I was sitting on the toilet doing my business to let the two men do with me whatever they wanted, so I was accepting. I was in submissive mode. It was a mode I loved and one which Rob knew how to exploit to the max. It was nice to let it flow with these two men as well.

It did not take long for Carl to unload and we kissed as he filled the rubber. Even with a rubber I could feel it when he came, and I love feeling a man cum inside me. I lay on top of him, kissing him lovingly as his cock slowly shrank. He had to pull out before the rubber came off his cock and spilled his seed inside me. To do so he had to pry my arms off him, I was holding him so tightly. He got off me.

As soon as Carl left my eager, welcoming body, Michael put a pillow under my tummy, and I felt something wet and cold at my asshole. I had done anal before but only with Rob, whose cock was average size, so this was going to have a new size dimension. I had decided however to go with the flow. What the men wanted, the men would get.

Michael went slow at first, thank goodness. He was gentle and loving, and he seemed to care about me. It was not just all about him getting his rocks off in this nineteen-year-old reckless slut, which was what he must have thought I was at that point. Well the slut let him ass fuck her, and after a little bit, when my ass dilated sufficiently, it even began to feel nice.

Michael fingered me as he fucked my ass, and damn if the combination did not send me over the top a second time, with another coloratura soprano scream. Wow. I collapsed onto the bed on my tummy after my climax, but Michael still had not cum. He rolled me over, lay down beside me, took off his rubber, and presented his cock to my mouth.

Drunk as I was, I still knew what he wanted, and by George I gave it to him. I'm not a world class blowjob artist, I'm just an ordinary coed, with a submissive streak, who was being a major slut for one night, but I gave him the best blowjob I could give a man with my limited talents. As I blew him, he played with my boobs. Seeing the bruises of course, he was gentle with them and it felt good, even very good.

After I swallowed Michael's load, we all sat around in the hotel room making small talk, all three of us naked. Twenty minutes later, Michael wanted a fuck and Carl wanted a blowjob. I wanted to get back to Rob, since it was very late and I knew he would be angry with me. I looked at my phone and there were four unread messages from Rob, and one from my Mom asking 'How was the date? Did you show Carl a good time?'

Rob's messages were getting successively darker and I told the men they would have to wait. I knew they wanted to spit roast me, and I said, "Next time?" I knew I would never see Michael again, but Carl? In theory Carl could find me easily again via the connection of our mothers, even if he lived and went to school in Chicago. I would not mind at all seeing him again! Such thoughts made me wonder about my love (or lack of it?) for Rob. It's hard to love a man who beats you, and I just knew something bad was in store for me when I got home.

Carl took me home. He could tell how nervous I was about facing Rob. Hell, he could tell I was downright scared. He told me his plan. "That will fool nobody, especially not Rob. You don't know him," I said.

"Let me try," Carl said.

"Well, it can't hurt," I said. "Carl, I know I've behaved like a tramp tonight, not only having sex with you on our first date, but with that stranger Michael, too. I'm not really like that. I've never had group sex before, never even thought of doing it. Could a man like you ever care for a slutty girl like me?"

"Joanne, you are the most amazing girl I've ever known, and certainly the sexiest girl I've ever bedded. Not only could a guy like me like a girl like you, but frankly woman, I'm already infatuated with you," he said. "I want to help to save you from Rob's revenge. Men don't like it when their women sleep around, you know."

Pausing a bit as if debating whether to say his next thought. "It's always been a fantasy of mine to share a woman with another man and watch them do it, you know? You gave me that thrill tonight. I'll never forget it," Carl said.

"That's what I'm afraid of, that you'll never forget it. Do you think there's a chance I'll ever see you again?" I asked, throwing away all possibilities of being coy!

Carl just looked at me and answered by kissing me while stroking my thigh, quite high up, too.

Returning to the big problem at hand, I said, "This is my first time, and maybe Rob won't know?"

"Maybe. If my plan works," Carl said.

"There's an issue, Carl. When I come home late at night, I have to enter the apartment naked. It's a house rule. I don't dare disobey," I said.

"What? That's crazy!" Carl said. I assured him it was real, a hard and fast rule.

"Even with me here? Rob would obviously see that you were getting naked in front of me. Would he want that?" Carl asked. He was incredulous.