Remote Control

I stood with my erection pointing straight up and put my hands on my hips. My brunette goddess quickly rose and gathering the last of her dignity, pointed to the door from whence they came. There were no words, just silent acknowledgement, and the warriors grudgingly left closing the door large wooden doors quietly behind the last warrior. The redhead princess repositioned the crown she had been carrying in her hand on those fiery red cascading curls and silently waited for words that never came.

My brunette goddess slid to her knees, then onto her back and raised her gown and spread her legs. A course in personal hygiene would be most appropriate, but in the interest foreign relations, I gently eased into her musky depths. She wasn't a virgin, but she probably never knew a man either, as her face reacted dramatically to my rock hard flesh rather than device(s) she was accustomed. The blond princess moved closer, and I grasped her soft pale hands, placing one on the fully breast of the brunette and the other on the little nub peeking through the bush between those long succulent legs. The blond knew what to do, messaging the small nipples and slick clitoral nub with well practiced expertise. Perhaps it was the new sensations of a real man, or perhaps it was the erotic support of our blond companion, but soon the brunette arched her back and squealed, releasing a long spray of her orgasmic essence on my torso.

Easing out of the bushy brunette rain forest, I was eased onto my back by the blond and mounted with the gentle guidance of her hands. She was tighter and cleaner, and provided a most excellent ride; her head thrown back and a rosy blush spreading over her upper torso.

I gestured to the fiery red head, who shyly shed her gown, and with my guidance, straddled my head. I pulled her down to my mouth and devoured the ripe rosy crevasse with a passion fueled appetite. It would become one my shortest encounters ever. As I was just settling into a marvelous cock massage of the blond while savoring the abundant juices flowing from the fiery redhead bush, they both climaxed explosively and literally simultaneously. Between gasping for air and protecting my gonads from being rammed into the marble floor, I was being bathed in enough orgasmic ejaculate to float a battleship.

As they gyrated in their orgasmic nirvanas, I saw the brunette compose herself and slowly rise to observe her two frenzied companions. I waved to her with my free arm, and as she strolled over sensuously, I guided my hand to her muff in search of the little bud that still quivered. My fingers began probing her fur covered vulva gently. Once two fingers slid into her vagina, and my thumb circled the root of her throbbing clit, her hips bucked forward violently and she shook like a leaf in an autumn wind. Feminist girls are easy! Their frigid public composure was an effectively disguise for the truly hot tamales they were in private. I laughed to myself silently when I considered the duality the hid, and the frustration they must have felt. It would be interesting to see if they returned to their sterile sex lives, or accept their male counterparts as a more satisfying way to live and lead. I slowly rose from the bundle of trembling bodies and quickly searched for the remote. It rested securely next to a candelabrum, and I retrieved it quickly and after biding them a silent farewell, fingered the green button.

The Victorian Virgin

The lively chords of a harpsichord echoed across the richly decorated conservatory of what must be a huge mansion. I arrived just behind the young beauty bundled in a truckload of puffy undergarments encased in a frilly pastel blue lace dress as she caressed the keys lovingly. The music twinkled and danced across the walls like a firefly in the forest, and although I leaned more towards classic rock from the 60s, I could learn to love this stuff pretty easily. All too soon, she completed the composition, and thumbed through several more scores before finally settling on one she liked. Pausing to slurp some tea, I approached her and asked:

"Where did you learn to play so beautifully?"

Visibly shaken, she gingerly replaced her finely painted cup and slowly slid around on the bench. The cup and saucer tumbled from her fingers and her exposed skin turn such a brilliant vermillion red that could have frozen traffic in New York during rush hour.

"My Lord, your clothes. . ."

"I left them upstairs," I replied assuming the bedrooms were located there.

"Only a scoundrel would be seen without attire."

"Or a lover," I countered with a hint of upcoming attractions ."

"I know thee not, my Lord, and even if so, a lady would not permit such a vulgar display!"

"You say that now, but you haven't tasted the forbidden fruit, have you?"

Her eyes slowly traveled up and down my body slowly, pausing on my gaze and finally resting on my groin. A slight flush reappeared.

No, my Lord," she murmured as her gaze lowered.

"Would you like too?'

Her eyes shot open and a look of defiance filled her fine facial features. "I'm saving myself for he whom I would spend my life with."

"Life is short, my dear. High ideals are an invitation for disappointment."

"I suppose, but. . ."

I cupped her face gently in my hands and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, convinced her resolve was crumbling. She rose unsteadily, and pried the shoes off her tiny feet.

"Time is short, the duchess will return within the hour, and if she were to find us together. . ."

"She won't," I said softly as I fumbled with the strings binding her bodice. She reached up, gently brushed my hand aside, and disrobed faster than I could ever have imagined. He clothes lay in a huge pile on the bench, and her petite assets on glorious display. This was going to be fun! I cupped her face delicately, and let her experience my full repertoire of kisses; pausing when her breaths became gasps. As my tongue explored the tiny buds of her breasts, she trembled violently and rubbed the peach fuzz surrounding her pussy forcefully on my leg. To our mutual surprise, she squealed, and reached her first orgasm. It wasn't earth shaking, but it was an appropriate precursor to what was to come.

I resumed my oral administration on the young sweet delicacy, slowly descending past her mammary bumps and small rounded belly to the delicious peach fuzz slit already oozing her feminine invitation for penetration. I lifted her slight frame and lowered her gently onto my rock hard organ, finally striking home after several attempts. Her arms clamped me tightly and her mouth bit gently on my shoulder until I gently released her and she slid down the full length of my cock, her arms and legs locked painfully around me. Her teeth broke skin and she squealed into my shoulder at the same moment she became a woman. The indescribably tight pussy, despite the increased lubrication of virgin blood, was impossible to maneuver within. Her face and torso were again a bright red, and her large green eyes were clenched tight, but the tell tale shadow of a smile revealed her true feelings.

Ever so slowly, with minute spasms, her tight pussy and facial contortions relaxed releasing my penectomy anxiety. With short gentle jabs that terminated with our two pubic bones lightly kissing each other, I resumed my onslaught. She resumed her quick panting breaths, terminated with staccato high pitched moans. My hips let me know that my back wouldn't last much longer without regrets in the morning, but the tightly squeezed little brain on the head of my cock kept the drive alive. Those swollen baby breasts were getting a chaffing, but their owner appeared not to notice, driven by the new found sensations radiating through her torso. Several deep rewarding thrusts later, her pussy plunged into hyper cock clench mode and her entire body trembled violently with her first full man made orgasm. I hung on as long as I could, but the stimulation was beyond bearable as my organ transformed into a bazooka with a multi-loader. I let go, seeing stars and pumping a life time worth of seed into the tiny cervix. We gasped and grunted together, trying to retain some semblance of dignity, as our bodies coped with neurological overload.

The delightful little virgin collapsed in my arms, and I fell back against the wall. She would forever reside among my top ten of conquests. I heard horse hooves, and knew my time was rapid drawing to a close. Carefully easing her limp form onto the deep red curtains of the settee, I retrieved my remote; and with a long last look at the lovely creature in repose with my seed dribbling from her tight violated vaginal lips, I pressed the red button and returned, sore but not shaken, to the comfort of my living room.

Sharing is Caring

I grabbed the remains of my brew and dropped heavily onto my sofa. As the fizz from my first long draught subsided, I pondered the remote that had provided a multitude of sexual fantasies far beyond my ability to ever imagine. Where did this remote come from; was it built on inspiration from a sexually oppressed scientist, was it randomly distributed by demented aliens, was it the product of an overworked Chinese dude who inadvertently cross wired a critical connection, or, more importantly, why was I seeking answers I really don't want to know. Actually, I was more concerned about a potential expiration date.

About then, there was a brief knock from the side entrance Rick and I had hastily installed several weeks ago to connect the two units without a need to go outside. Rick swaggered in, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me lying sprawled across the couch with my clothes in a disheveled heap a few feet away.

"So, if your choice in apparel is an invitation, I'm already married."

I chuckled. . . "You really think I'm that desperate," I returned as I drained the last of my brew. I got up and grabbed a couple of fresh ones, handing him one as he dropped into the La-Z-Boy, before returning to the couch. I mulled disclosure for a few seconds, and throwing caution to the wind, I decided to let my best friend in on my secret. He was staring at me with curiosity written all over his face, anyways.

"Back in the old days when I lived in the apartment," I began; "I came home one night and my remote stopped working, so I went across the street to a small electronics store and bought a generic universal remote."

"OK," he offered indifferently, "You have my attention."

I handed him the remote and continued. "You see those three buttons on the bottom? The blue one takes you somewhere in the past, the green one into the future, and the red one, with the return icon scribed on it brings you back to when and where you were when you pushed one of the other two buttons."

"OK . . . We really got to get you a woman, dude."

"Go ahead and try it, Rick. Just be sure to hang on to it 'cause you ain't coming back until you push the red button. Go on, it won't kill you!"

He looked at the control, and absently ran his fingers over the buttons. "Look dude, there's no such . . ."

There was a blinding bolt of light accompanied by a sizzle and his beer dropped to the floor. I was able to salvage most of it, and his clothes absorbed the small amount he'd lost. I got up and slowly put my pants on just as there was another sizzle and Rick returned to his sitting position, naked and wild eyed. I handed him the remains of his still cold brew and sat back down after prying the remote from his hands.

Several long minutes passed until he muttered: "Damn."

"Now you know why I'm not apt to change my personal life."

"Yeah," he said in a barely audible whisper. "Thanks."

"Where did you go," I asked, my curiosity peaked.

Rick let out a long sigh; "It was a cathouse -- late 1800s, I'd guess, with petticoats and eagle clawed tubs, and nickelodeon music and the strongest booze ever conceived by man. The women were . . . hot -- no, insatiable!" He paused and put on his serious face. "What if I knocked her up?"

"And what if I fucked my granny and she had a boy instead of my Mom? Let me go check on the flux capacitor . . ." I took another lingering sip of my brew.

Rick was silent for a moment and snickered, then nodded to himself with relief etched across his face. "You know, I came over to get a break from the old lady; she's on the rag again."

"Give her the remote," I suggested.

Rick pondered the idea for a moment and shook his head no; "Don't want to pay for someone else's kid."

"Then let's go fishin'."

"I'll get the bait, you grab the beer," he countered.

As we walked down the embankment towards the lazily flowing river, Rick seemed pensive, yet relieved. We loaded our hooks in silence, and cast upriver to let the bait flow with the current. Finally, he spoke up:

"They told me cowboys were lousy lovers."

"You think riding a saddle for twelve to fourteen hours a day is good for the gonads? Geez Rick, they're probably hanging out his navel. Truth be told -- if we DNA tested 90-percent of the pioneer offspring west of the Mississippi we'd find they were fathered by traveling salesmen!"

"Or naked men with remotes," he suggested with a chuckle.

We watched our lines drift slowly past, lost in our thoughts and secure in our bond that would surely endure the endless mysteries of time.