Portmanteau Ep. 01

Grant complied, taking the tie off, then unbuckling the Judge's pants and pulling them down. What happened next was unexpected, as the Judge was not wearing underwear. While the lack of briefs was certainly a surprise, the genuine surprise was the massive size of the Judge's cock. To say it was porn star huge might be doing it a disservice.

It has to be at least 9 inches, Grant thought.

"It's ten inches if you're wondering," Mrs. Weckenstein said.

"Sleep service!" the semi-conscious Judge blurted out again.

"What is sleep service?" Grant asked.

"He can't sleep with a hard-on," Mrs. Weckenstein stated and opened a bottle of hand lotion. She then sat on the bed and matter-of-factly lathered the Judge's cock from top to bottom. As she stroked it, the massive member grew even more significant in her grip.

Grant was transfixed, he had never seen such a thing, and while he wanted to be anywhere in the world other than here at this moment, he could not break away his gaze.

"Get me a towel from the bathroom."

Shocked and obedient, Grant scampered into the bathroom, where he was almost about to hyperventilate. He grabbed a towel, bit down on it, and tried to contain his rapid breathing.

Grant returned from the room to see Mrs. Weckenstein watching him with her sultry eyes, all while jacking her near-unconscious husband off with her left hand. She leaned back, hiked her dress, and revealed her unclad crotch.

Grant held the towel and contemplated running for it but was mesmerized by the insane events unfolding before him. No words were exchanged between him and Mrs. Weckenstein, and the only sounds were the fap fap fap of her hand on the Judge's massive rod and his occasional groan of pleasure.

Grant convinced himself it was time to leave something within him, pushed him forward and down to his knees, then to the edge of the bed, then between Mrs. Weckenstein's legs. He began to lap up her tangled fur gateway without any further thought.

Still masturbating her husband, Mrs. Weckenstein scooched forward, allowing Grant unfettered access to her entrance. The freshman soon found himself deep between her thighs and licking her openings hole to hole.

Mrs. Weckenstein closed her eyes, thrilled to have a young conquest bringing her to orgasm while separated from her about-to-climax husband by only her thigh.

She felt the base of the Judge's cock start to pulsate and pushed Grant's face from her quim.

"Hand me the towel, then take off your pants. In that order," she demanded.

Grant handed her the towel then he pulled off his pants. She increased her hand job speed with two hands until Judge's massive sex tool angrily erupted. It seemed impossible for a man of the Judge's age to ejaculate so much and so fast. But he sure did.

Mrs. Weckenstein expertly caught the cum in the towel. Additional strokes produced more cum, and then it was done. The Judge was sound asleep, snoring.

Mrs. Weckenstein worked her way back onto the bed, removed her dress, then dropped what remained of her leather lingerie and was utterly nude other than her black Valentino ankle strap pumps.

This was Grant's first total glance at the majesty of this middle-aged cougar's body. She didn't work out, and yet she was blessed with a nearly perfect figure. Toned legs, a flat stomach, not muscular, just a smooth fit softness. Her pubic area was well groomed with a bit more hair than the few real vaginas Grant had ever seen, and its allure was hypnotic.

She slid a finger down her dark pubic hair and separated her lips to reveal a pouty pink entrance. Grant quickly finished disrobing and practically sprang to her, ready to fuck this fine woman and create a memory he could masturbate to for the rest of his life.

With the Judge peacefully sleeping beside them, Grant's cock slid into Mrs. Weckenstein only to be met with a hot sensation. The heat was intense yet pleasurable as he gasped for a breath.

"My internal body temperature runs higher than most people. Can you feel the heat?"

Grant nodded and began pushing in and out. The wetness now coating his manhood was getting hotter and hotter with each push and pull.

This was it, all he had to do was cum, and his virginity would be gone. No question.

While Grant's cock worked her perfect portal, his mouth went to her breasts, and he began to suckle her pert nipples as if they would nourish him.

"Mmmmm, Mrs. Weckenstein likes how your cock feels inside her," she moaned.

The third-person narration was less jarring the second time around and soon proved helpful as she would narrate what was working for her and give instructions on what to do next.

Grant pushed his cock harder into her moistness and then felt a swell of ejaculate building in his balls. Pulling back and out, he looked down at Mrs. Weckenstein while stroking his cock, trying to keep his load from escaping too soon. He needed to savor this moment.

Appreciating how he was pacing himself, she nodded, sat up, and rolled off the bed.

"Good boy," she nodded and then patted the bed, "now lay flat, and Mrs. Weckenstein is going to ride you."

Like a servant before a master, Grant obeyed and lay back as the aggressive MILF straddled him cowgirl style and slid down on his raging hard-on. She increased the speed causing Grant's head to swirl.

With this view, he could see his manhood as she did all the work pulling herself out and in, masturbating his rod with her tightness.

Mrs. Weckenstein's breasts heaved up and down, creating a sex flush that swelled her nipples, changing their color to a dark purple. Grant's massive erection was baking inside as her inner heat rose.

Despite the bed shaking and the loud mutual groans of satisfaction, the Judge kept sleeping in blissful ignorance.

Just when Grant felt he might explode, the experienced Mrs. Weckenstein slowed and climbed off the freshman. Sauntering to the mini bar, she poured a splash of Crown Royal into a glass and kicked it back in one gulp. She then turned to face Grant, sitting up in the bed next to the sleeping Judge.

"Lay back and pull your legs up," Mrs. Weckenstein commanded. Grant balked, unsure what she wanted.

"Lay back. Pull your legs up now," she restated in a firm voice. This time Grant obeyed and quickly reclined on his back, then pulled his legs up and back, exposing his cock and backside. He looked a little panicked as she approached. "Relax, I'm not sticking anything in your ass, but I am about to fuck you."

Mrs. Weckenstein climbed on the bed on her knees, approaching Grant. With his legs back, both his penis and ass were exposed. The older woman stroked his cock, pointed it straight up, and lowered herself onto it. Once she had Grant inside her, she grabbed each of his ankles with her two hands and opened his legs even wider.

"What are you doing to me?" Grant gasped.

"Amazon position. My yoga teacher taught it to me, she stated." Holding his ankles, Mrs. Weckenstein began to move her pelvis, which made her depths slide up and down on Grant's bent cock.

In the mirror, he could see the unfolding action, which made it look like she had the cock, and he was getting fucked. Grant was amazed at the feeling, and while technically he was penetrating her, she controlled all the action. Their bodies began to heat up as the friction increased.

"You like this," she stated with a smile.

This was not a question, but rather a statement, and, as far as Grant was concerned, was 100% true. The older woman increased the movement and used her ass muscles to add internal massage to the top of his shaft. He loved it.

"Make me cum," she demanded as she increased the movement.

Grant could feel his balls swelling, but he had no plans to hold back this time.

Mrs. Weckenstein increased her thrusts as she pounded away at Grant, who now knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of an aggressive sex move.

Suddenly she began to shake as an orgasm swept over her body like a tsunami. Starting at her head, it came down her body, causing her vaginal walls to give several quick and powerful squeezes of Grant's shaft, and for the second time tonight, a rush of hot white semen exploded from his cock, this time flooding her depths and causing the two to grind violently against together.

Tipping her head back, she let out a long guttural groan of pleasure.

Mrs. Weckenstein slowly reduced her speed and gently came to a stop as she looked at Grant with a victorious smirk. Dismounting Grant, some semen dripped from inside her, landing on his stomach. The fluid was hot on his skin, almost burning hot, and he could feel it flowing across his belly and down his sides.

Mrs. Weckenstein rolled off, went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet with the door open, and peed to clean herself of Grant's heavy ejaculation.

Getting up, she dabbed her cum tangled pubes with a towel and then threw it to Grant.

"Clean up," she demanded.

Grant took the towel and started to clean cum from the bed.

"I mean you, clean yourself," she laughed, walked naked across the room, and lit a cigarette.

"Virgins...so much you need to learn," Mrs. Weckenstein whispered as she sat in a chair watching Grant dress. The red tip of her cigarette flared as she inhaled the smoke.

"I'll be coming up for every home football game this fall," she said.

"I didn't know you were such a fan," Grant replied.

"I'm not. I'll be here each Friday night before the game. You and I will fuck each Friday night and probably on Saturday during the game."

Grant had no problem with the plan or concerns about Barry or Judge Weckenstein. He realized Mrs. Weckenstein was a woman who saw what she wanted and took it with little fear of getting caught, so why should he worry.

As he prepared to leave, Grant looked back at the sleeping Judge. "He's so massive. You said he had a problem with his...his whatever you call that thing."

"Did you feel what my pussy did to your cock, Grant? Did it not just milk you dry? Do you think most women my age have tight pussies like this? If I let his monster loose in me, you could drive a car through it. Big cocks are for bragging and bar sluts. Regular cocks keep tight pussies tight. Get some rest, and I'll see you in two weeks."

Mrs. Weckenstein planted a deep kiss on Grant's mouth, giving him second thoughts about leaving, but he was not part of her agenda at this point, and she gently pushed him out of the room.

"Don't go falling in love with me. This is just sex."

It was almost sunup when Grant returned to his room.

Barry sat up in bed as Grant wandered in. "You motherfucker!" Barry shouted.

"I can explain," Grant reacted in terrified defense.

Barry grabbed him in a bear hug. "You lost your cherry tonight, didn't you! Dude, I am so proud of you. Finally, becoming a man. You have got to tell me every detail about this chick. Don't leave any good details out." Grant proceeded to make up the mother of all stories and spare the true details that would have caused Barry to need years of therapy.

EPILOG

Mrs. Weckenstein planted a deep kiss on Grant's mouth, giving him second thoughts about leaving, but he was not part of her agenda at this point, and she gently pushed him out of the room.

"Don't go falling in love with me. This is just sex."

She closed the door and turned to the bed and her sleeping husband. Stepping up and onto the bed, she stood nude, directly astride the Judge, looking down at him. Carefully she inched her hand down her stomach across her black bush and slowly, seductively, separated her pussy lips coaxing remnants of Grant's semen to drip out.

"Don't go falling in love with me?" the Judge said with a smirk opening his eyes.

"They always do," she sighed and kept fingering herself.

"Could be one of your best conquests," the Judge said, transfixed on her fingers.

"At least one of the top five," she replied.

"Reverse cowgirl," Mrs. Weckenstein commanded and turned around, still standing to see the Judge's massive cock at full mast, the veins pumping, the bulbous tip purple with anticipation.

The Judge's gaze was now on his wife's perfect ass as she lowered herself onto his girth.

Mrs. Weckenstein had to pause to allow the considerable cap of his cock to stretch her open. She knew the drill, relaxed the muscles, and used her hips to help her pussy swallow the colossal phallus. As she lowered herself, her vaginal glands relaxed, offering the rush of much-needed lube to allow the Judge's cock to slide inside.

The moan she let out was unlike anything else, something that could only come from a mixture of pleasure and pain. Waiting for her muscles to relax, she breathed deeply and dropped on the massive cock. She winced, then settled, and then smiled at the euphoric feeling.

Looking directly ahead into a wall mirror, she could see just how much she had to open her pussy to allow the Judge inside. It was almost unnatural to witness. Mrs. Weckenstein was proud she could take this kind of punishment and still have the tightness of a 20-year-old. Her body was genetic perfection, and she knew it.

The Judge made a guttural groan as his cock was caressed by her gentle twitches.

"What are you looking at?" she demanded.

"Your ass," the Judge replied weakly.

Mrs. Weckenstein's puckered ass opening winked with each rise and fall. The Judge thought of asking for anal but knew she was in charge. If she wanted anal, she would tell him.

He slipped a thumb in her ass as it opened to offer inspiration. The added pressure began her orgasmic wave.

"Here it comes," she quietly exclaimed, I need you to cum now." Always obedient to her commands, the Judge began pumping his hips, and the friction and tempo increased. Mrs. Weckenstein tipped her head back, letting out a primal wail far louder than she did with Grant.

The Judge could not hold back. Deep inside his wife, his huge cock erupted an equally enormous load that filled her every crevice, mixing with the remains of Grant's lust, then crept out in drips coating his lower shaft with a thick creamy thickness. Mrs. Weckenstein kept sliding up and down the thick shaft until it finally fell free from the grip of her folds.

The Judge looked at her for approval. "Satisfied?"

"Satisfied," she growled with a tired weakness from several poundings over the past few hours.

Mrs. Weckenstein looked back at her obedient husband and decided to throw the dog a bone. She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of lube. Slathering it on her hand, she proceeded to butter her behind, then got on all fours with her perfect ass facing him, punctuated by her quivering starfish.

"Time for your reward."

WICKED GAME

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

Wicked Game lyrics © BMG Rights Management,

THEN HE KISSED ME

The New York Times business section bullpen was rather busy for a Saturday afternoon. Wall Street had been volatile this week, so every reporter was hard at work trying to file a story by the 4 PM deadline for the Sunday paper. Ethan Reese was running a grammar check on his article when two colleagues walked through the writers' bullpen.

Aryanna and her boyfriend Wecks chatted with fellow reporters, then stopped off at Ethan's desk.

"Busy week for you finance guys," Wecks smirked, "try being on the sports desk. It's like this every day. The only thing harder is being in the game itself."

Wecks was a tall, handsome sports reporter who played lacrosse in college for a D1 program and liked to make sure everyone knew it. Aryanna smiled and reached for a pen on Ethan's desk.

"Do you have a post-it note?" she asked.

Ethan handed her a post-it pad while hitting the send button on his computer.

"The weekend has begun," Ethan proclaimed and started to organize his desk for a quick escape.

"Hey, me and Jazz are going to Happy Hour at The Yard House," Wecks declared.

Wecks called Aryanna "Jazz" after princess Jasmine from the Aladdin movie due to her exotic Persian looks, from her voluptuous body to her brown almond-shaped eyes, but those descriptions were just skin deep. She had a pleasantness about her, like walking outside on a warm summer day. Time with her was as wonderful as good weather.

"Sounds great. I'll meet you guys down there, Ethan replied.

"Great," declared Aryanna.

Wecks took Aryanna's hand and started leading her out. With her free hand, Aryanna casually handed Ethan a folded post-it note. "See you at The Yard House," she said with a coy smile.

Ethan held the yellow note watching Aryanna as she left. She was wearing an oversized sweater hiding her voluptuous breasts. The top stopped short enough to allow an unobstructed view of her skintight yoga pants, which showed every detail of her legs, perfect hips, and insanely tight ass.

The phone rang, and Ethan grabbed it. Taking a few notes, he hung up and reached for his jacket. Only then did he remember the post-it note.

Unfolding it, he read the following: Can we have sex?

Ethan froze. He looked around to see who might have noticed his reaction. No one. He then stuffed the note in his shirt pocket and stood. His heart was racing, and his breath was short. He needed a drink of water fast. He went to the water cooler and filled a cup.

He took the note out of his pocket. Certainly, he had read it wrong. He looked again: Can we have sex? Confirmed.

He drank back the water and put the note back in his pocket again. Then took it out one more time just in case he had read it wrong the first two times. Can we have sex? It still read.

The Yard House was packed as usual with the young crowd from the Times. Drinks were flowing, and the conversations were about work. Ethan entered and looked around. He knew a lot of the crowd, so he made sure to chat up people as he looked for Aryanna and Wecks. Finding them at a large table with several other reporters, Ethan slipped into the seat across from Aryanna.

The waitress came by to get Ethan's drink order. "He's going to have the elderflower paloma," Aryanna shouted, "One for me too."

Aryanna wrote for the infamous travel section of the Times and always knew the right thing to order.

Wecks sat down next to Aryanna, nursing a beer. "Did she order you a fru fru drink?" he asked. "Always orders something I can't pronounce, but if it's not beer, it's not going here," he said, pointing at his stomach. "Hey babe, Kenny's got Knicks tix, so I'll be out late tonight. You cool about it? Sure, you are."

Aryanna smiled as she played with her thick black long hair.

"No worries, I've got a project to work on, so, yeah, enjoy."

Wecks then turned to talk to his crew as Aryanna looked across at Ethan, trying to get a read.

"The thing you asked about, the question," he began, "I think it could work."

Aryanna smiled and nodded in approval. "Great, I've been thinking about it since New Year's Eve."

New Year's Eve was several months ago. The paper was throwing its annual New Year's event in a hotel ballroom outside Time Square. The drink was flowing, and the clock was getting close to midnight. Ethan's date, Bettina, was deep in conversation with her friends as Ethan excused himself to find the bathroom.

"Hurry back," she said, "ball's about to drop."

The men's room had a line, so Ethan headed down a few corridors until he found a less crowded bathroom. As he exited, he noticed Aryanna leaving the women's room nearby.

"I see you found the secret bathrooms," she said.

"I think Wecks won't remember tonight, Ethan replied. He's been hitting those IPAs pretty hard. Oh, look, it's almost midnight!"