Can we put up content and posts that are legal, but would send moralfags into a frenzy? then we could ban poeple who tried reporting it, thus getting rid of the moralfags...

At work, a hot teen tease co-worker would wear tight revealing clothing but she was a total fucking tease. So I looked in her employee locker one day and in her purse found a pack of cough drops. I knew she had a cold so I carefully opened each cough drop and jerked off letting a little drop of cum land on each. I re-wrapped each and while having lunch watched her take one. She made a funny face but kept on sucking on it. I went home and jerked off like a frenzy thinking of the fucking whore swallowing my cum.

Forget who voted for whom or where your mother was when you clawed your way out of her uterus...if the world could just do less of this imagine how many more friends we would all have. Before you all knee-jerk project/deflect/deny frenzy, keep in mind you have no idea who I am, nor My beliefs. 100% of both sides do this all the time and we ALL need to stop. Whatever side you're on, if you see someone on your side doing this bullshit...they're making you look bad. Let's all stop jerking our egos off and act like grown ups.

Forbidden Desires (1)
Having recently moved back home from college – it’s just me and Mom, Dad died a few years ago – something happened last month; strange and yet so thrilling. I was in the kitchen, scrolling on the phone. Mom was there too, peeling potatoes at the sink. I looked up, in her direction and my spontaneous erection nearly pushed the table up. She was wearing her black leather leggings while also smoking. Dangling it from her mouth. This surprising combination was mesmerising. Almost hypnotic. The way she would take a drag and the smoke would soar from her nose. I had never noticed this before. Sometimes she would take 2 but in-between smoke would exhale from her nose. It was so erotic. I don’t even smoke myself. But it was the way looked while also wearing those sexy leggings. I had never felt this way before. I couldn’t help but look, leer like a pervert. Something came over me, I couldn’t explain. The more I watched the harder I got. Eventually, I had to leave the room. I was basically tripping over myself climbing the stairs, trying to adjust myself. Before I knew it I found myself in her bedroom. In my forbidden frenzy I started to masturbate, thinking of Mommy. I had never cum like this before. A surge build deep from inside and erupted like a hose. Ejaculating all over Mommy’s bed. When I came to, I saw all my seamen covering the quilt. Quickly I tried to rub it in. I got scared and worried she would see it. I washed my face and hands. I had to leave the house straightaway. Try to figure out what was going on…

I've looked for hours to try and find this one porno of a group of lesbians filling Easter baskets with assortments of treats. Then from outta nowhere one girl bites the head off of a chocolate bunny and shits in it. The others follow suit, rubbing themselves to a frenzy and by the end everyone one is covered in poo and chocolate and orgasms. I want to say it's titled "chocolate easter bunny surprise" but nothings showing up. You are my last hope guys

"My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip." -Jeffrey Dahmer.

Hey everyone, I have a quick confession to make. Some will probably find me horrible but I don't care. I just have confess it here to get it of my chest. To be short I brutally raped my ex. So here's what happened:

My ex gf cheated on me and so I broke up with her. She is very young so I could somehow understand that she wanted to explore some more, but still I don't want to stay with a cheating gf. However, ass time went by I started to hate her more for what she did to me, but somewhere I also still love her. Love and hate really are close. But one night when I was going out and got a bit drunk we saw each other again and went outside the club to talk. After a long talk we split up to go home. However, since I was drunk, horny, hartbroken, hatefull and still in love with her I followed her at some distant. I know the route she has to take to get home and when she walked through the park I went to her and grabbed her around the neck and mouth and dragged her down. I really lost it in some kind of frenzy. I hit her in the face and tore her dress a bit. She struggled of course but I split her legs and lowered her legging and undies. I hit her again before I opened my own pants to bring my dick out. She was crying and murmering 'No!' As I entered her and started to fuck her. I lossened her bra and trew it away so I could squeeze her breasts with one of my hand, while the other was holding her hands down. It really turned me on to hit her, tell her to 'Shut up, slut!' and fuck her without a condom. She always wanted to use a condom when we were together. She didn't use a pill since she always got sick with it or something. And the thought of cumming inside her made me fuck her even harder. When I was about to cum I told her and she was still crying and sobbing. I came really good and filled her up nicely. When I was done I got up and just left her there. I still heard her crying when I was walking away.

This has been a few months already and I heard she got pregnant. I gueass she didn't realise that it was me who raped her because of the trauma and beating I gave her. I hope she takes good care for my child

Brooke

Sixteen-year-old Brooke steered her car into the parking lot
across the street from the convenience store, on her way to a
postgame football party with her cheerleading squad.
She was going to buy some sodas and chips to bring to the
party, but she had also wanted to sneak in a six-pack of beer.
Her parents didn't drink, so the only way she could get some
would be to shoplift the beers. She had done a small amount of
shoplifting before, and it was rather easy.
By parking across the street and carrying her large
cheerleading duffle bag into the store while dressed in her
uniform, it would give the appearance that she was walking home
following the game. Then she could buy the pop and chips, but
slip the beers into her bag, as well.
As she walked into the store, she smiled at the clerk, a
middle-aged man in his forties, who was working alone. She
browsed the snack aisle slowly, taking her time, as she picked up
a bag of chips. Then she sauntered over to the refrigerated
case.
As Brooke passed the beer rack, she looked toward the clerk
to see if he was noticing. He seemed to be reading something in
another direction, so she quietly slipped the refrigerated case
door open and deftly snuck a six-pack of beer into the partially
unzipped duffle bag. Then she scooted over to the sodas and
picked up a six-pack of those to pay for.
Brooke hadn't realized it, but the store clerk had been
watching her in one of the large parabolic mirrors, checking her
out in her little uniform, while she had slipped the beers into
her bag.
When she arrived at the register to pay for the sodas and
chips.
"Do you need anything else tonight?" the clerk asked.
"No," Brooke replied. "That should do it."
"Then what about the beers in your bag?" he inquired.
Brooke's face fell off.
"Shit," she muttered. She had never been caught before, and
never really thought about the consequences, since it had been so
easy.
Brooke slowly reached into the bag and pulled the beers out.
"Well young lady," he said. "I guess you're in some trouble
now."
He picked up the phone and dialed the police, who told him
they would be there in a couple of minutes.
"Okay, miss, just wait over there near the office door. The
police will be here in a couple of minutes."
Brooke wanted to cry. She had never really contemplated the
potential outcome, and now it was too late. And this store clerk
was going to take no mercy on her.
It didn't take long for the law to arrive. Two police
officers, one probably in his early forties and one who seemed to
be just out of training, walked into the store.
"You've got another lifter?" the older cop asked.
"Yep," he answered. "A kid, right over there next to the
office door."
The clerk pointed squarely at young Brooke, who wished she
could be anywhere but there at that moment.
The older cop got an eyeful of Brooke, and he could tell she
was scared.
"Well, we're gonna take her into the office for a while and
talk to her before we take her in," he told the clerk.
"That's fine," the clerk responded. "I'll be here in case
you need anything."
The older cop looked over at the younger one and smirked as
the two slowly approached young Brooke.
"Well, young lady, I guess you've found yourself some
trouble, huh?" the older office asked.
"Yes, sir," Brooke answered solemnly.
"Well, then, I think we'd better step into this office and
discuss the situation before we take you in," he said.
The officer opened the office door and ushered the three of
them in, carefully locking the door behind them.
"So," asked the younger cop. "What were you trying to
steal?"
"Beers," she simply said.
"This isn't the first time we've seen minors trying to steal
beer, either," he told her.
"So what happens now?" Brooke asked.
Knowing that the store policy was simply to take minors in to
scare them, but not to prosecute, the older cop figured to play
the situation for all he could get.
"Well, we're supposed to take you in to the station and book
you for shoplifting, then call your parents. They can bail you
out or let you spend the night in jail before you see the judge
tomorrow morning."
Brooke's eyes started to water.
"Isn't there any way you could just let me go with a
warning?" she begged. "My parents will kill me, and I'll get
kicked off the cheer squad, for sure."
"Well, that's not the policy," the younger officer told her.
"Sorry."
"Please?" she pleaded with teary eyes to both men. "I'll do
anything not to get in trouble for this. I've learned my
lesson."
The older cop looked young Brooke's sexy little body over.
She looked so hot in her little cheerleading uniform.
"Anything, huh?" he mused.
"Yes, sir," she said.
His eyes devoured the teenaged cheerleader. She had long,
wavy blonde hair, large and bright blue eyes and delicious-
looking lips.
Brooke wore a tight, body-hugging sweater. It was a V-neck
style, white on the top with a bulldog emblem for the local high
school across the chest. The emblem stood out impressively,
propelled by her two "C"-cup-sized breasts. The sweater was
black on the bottom half, with a four-inch-wide band of
bold/white/black/white/gold across the body of the sweater in a
similar "V" shape, just below the emblem, with the black initials
"MHS" in the white area between the "V". The same color pattern
extended across the back of the form-fitting sweater, as well as
the long sleeves.
Her skirt was black with sixteen inverted gold and white
alternating pleats. It hemmed out very high on her shapely
tanned thighs and nicely caressed her fine teenaged ass. A pair
of white kneesocks, with a black band around the top, and white
athletic shoes capped off her delightful uniform.
The older cop wanted her pussy, and this cheerleader seemed
very willing to do almost whatever she could to avoid trouble.
He glanced over at the younger officer and smiled.
"You're not thinking what I'm thinking, are you?" blurted the
other cop.
"Yep, I'm afraid I am," came his answer.
"What's going on?" asked poor Brooke.
"I think my partner has an option for you," the young cop
told her.
"Like what?" Brooke inquired, anxious for anything at this
point.
The older cop was straight to the point.
"Like we let you go, provided you let us both fuck you and
cum in that cute little mouth of yours," he simply offered.
Brooke simply looked at them both, absolutely stunned at the
idea of getting out of trouble.
"And then you'd just let me go?" she asked.
"Yep," the cop said.
"That would be okay, I guess," she relented. "Because I
don't want any trouble. It's just that I've never been fucked
before."
"Are you serious?" asked the younger cop. "A beautiful girl
like you?"
"No," Brooke answered. "I never had the guts to ask a guy
yet, and I guess they haven't, either."
"Well then," said the older man, "we'll just have to show you
how it's done."
"And you want to shoot your stuff in my mouth?" she asked,
wincing a bit at the idea.
"Definitely. And you would need to swallow it, too."
"I've heard it doesn't usually taste very good," she
commented.
"Well, that's part of the deal. We don't want to leave a
mess in this office."
"Okay."
"But we'll have to be pretty quick about it," the young cop
added. "Because that store manager will wonder what's going on.
And we'll have to be quiet, too."
Brooke nodded in agreement.
"Okay, then, sweetheart," the older guy said as he unbuckled
his trousers. "You can start by sucking on my cock."
Brooke just nodded and stepped toward the man to do as she
was told.
"And I'll fuck you from behind while you suck him," added the
young cop. "Just bend over for me."
Brooke looked a bit alarmed.
"You're not gonna put that thing in my butt, are you?" she
asked with concern.
"No, I'm gonna stick it in your pussy from behind," he
explained. "It's called 'doggy-style'."
Brooke snickered as the older guy fished his half-erect penis
from his boxers and offered it to the high school cheerleader.
Brooke took it in her hand and obediently placed it in her warm
mouth. Bent forward, she started sucking on it while the guy
fucked her mouth slowly.
She felt the other guy's hands as they reached under the
pleats of her little skirt. He pushed the pleats upward to
expose the tight gold cheerleading bloomers with her white cotton
panties underneath.
Brooke felt him grab the waistband of both pairs and tug her
bloomer/panty combination down her thighs, leaving them stretched
across her legs, just above her knees. He spread her kneesocked
legs for leverage and fisted his hard cock against her virgin
pussy lips from behind.
Her pussy was dry, so the young cop began rubbing her pussy
lips with his dick. It didn't take long to get the hot little
cheerleader nice and wet. Within a couple of minutes, young
Brooke's pussy was sopping with her own cunt juices.
By this time, Brooke had sucked the other cop big and hard.
His cock now filled her young mouth, and he began to pump in and
out of her lips. Brooke put her hands on her knees for rest and
support as the guy skull-fucked her with one hand grasping each
side of her head.
The young cop nestled the head of his prick to Brooke's love
tunnel and slowly pushed it in until it hit her maidenhead, the
thin membrane that marked her virginal state.
"Okay, baby, I'm gonna bust your cherry now," he told her.
"It'll hurt a little bit at first, but it'll go away."
He put his hands on the sides of her cheerleading sweater and
punched it through her hymen quickly. Brooke grunted as he
popped her innocence, but the pain quickly subsided.
"Okay, baby, that was it," he reassured her. "You'll be
fine, now."
The cop slowly pulled out, then slid it back in repeatedly,
each time giving the teen cheerleader about a quarter-inch more
schlong. Before long, he was able to fuck a good five inches
into her first-time twat, enjoying the ultra-tight fit of her
virgin pussy.
Poor Brooke was getting pumped from both ends simultaneously
as she was bent over in her sexy cheer uniform with her hands on
her knees.
"Stroke it with your tongue while I fuck that mouth of
yours," said the older cop.
Brooke tried as best she could to satisfy the man. After a
few minutes of double-fucking, the two men decided to switch
positions simply by having little Brooke turn around.
"I need to rest my mouth for a couple of minutes," Brooke
said. "My jaws are sore."
"Then I'll fuck you on this desk while you rest for my
partner," said the older cop.
As Brooke wiggled her cheer briefs and panties down to her
ankles and kicked them aside, he picked the cheerleader up and
placed her on the edge of the desk. Brooke lifted her legs,
placing the soles of her shoes on the edge of the desk, also,
wide to the sides.
The sixteen alternating gold and white pleats of her little
black cheer skirt spread nicely across the top of her thighs as
she presented her moist love treasure to the older cop. She
looked marvelous with her kneesocks cocked to the sides, inviting
the man to impale her with his saliva-coated cock.
He lifted the sides of her sweater and tugged the fabric high
on her chest, above her ample breasts, as he also lifted her bra
cups to let her mammaries free.
"Yeah, let's see those nice tits while I fuck you," he
blurbed, as he squatted a bit to put his cock in position.
Brooke smiled as she looked down and watched him push the
head of his prick between her pussy lips and gently slide it in.
She could feel his member fill her tight, warm snatch as he took
several fuck-strokes to drive the full length into the young
girl, mashing his pubic hair against her pink clit.
"Oh, yeah," he murmured. "Fits like a fucking glove..."
The younger cop watched, gently stroking himself, as his
partner hammered little Brooke's deflowered pussy gently but
firmly. Brooke's tits wiggled with each thrust as they dangled
beneath her cheerleading sweater and bra.
Brooke was really enjoying this now. She looked over at a
nearby mirror and was able to see the reflection of herself
getting fucked from a third-person perspective. It made her even
hornier.
The cop was only able to fuck young Brooke for a few minutes.
He had to stop for fear of blowing his load into her pussy, and
he didn't want his DNA filling the high school cheerleader.
"Fuck," he gasped, as he pulled out of her. "I've gotta
stop, before I blow my load in your cunt."
"It's my turn, then," said the younger cop, quickly, anxious
to dip his fleshy spear into her teen treasure again.
As his partner stepped aside, the young cop assumed the
position and was quickly fucking the teen cheerleader with a
frenzied pace.
The older cop could only watch as Brooke's long blonde hair
bounced around with her tits as his partner drilled her with
quick thrusts. He didn't even touch his cock, because he knew he
would blow his wad early. The excitement level was just too
much.
The young cop didn't last long, either, before he also had to
pull out.
"Okay, let's switch positions again, just like how we
started."
The two officers pulled Brooke down from the desk and
positioned her between them again, this time bent forward to
receive the younger guy's cock in her mouth.
Placing her hands on her knees again, Brooke opened her mouth
wide for her oral fucking, while feeling the back of her little
skirt being pulled up and the other cock entering her pussy from
behind.
The younger guy slid himself into her waiting mouth, and she
sealed her lips around him. The threesome continued the hot 'n
heavy action for another four or five minutes.
"I'm ready to shoot off," grunted the older cop. "How about
you?"
"Yeah, I think it's time," grunted his younger partner.
The two cops pulled out of the teen cheerleader.
"Okay," said the older one. Kneel right here between us,
hold your head back and keep your mouth open."
Brooke nodded and did as she was instructed. She was almost
completely out of trouble with the law now, and she knew she had
to keep her end of the deal.
"I'll go first," said the older guy.
He positioned himself between the girl's knees and put the
head of his cock on her tongue as he stroked himself.
"Remember, you need to swallow it all so we don't leave a
mess. Understand?" he asked.
Brooke nodded, as she waited for his creamy cargo.
"Aw, shit, here it comes," the cop grunted.
His cock splurted a load of thick, frothy goo into the
cheerleader's open mouth, sliding down her tongue to the back of
her throat. Again and again, he fired his spunk repeatedly into
her young mouth, and the obedient girl swallowed every bit of his
load without hesitation. After four or five salvos of steamy
cum, he squeezed the last of it onto the girl's tongue.
"Oh yeah, baby," he exulted. "You're such a good girl."
He stepped aside to zip up as his partner took his turn,
standing between the girl's knees.
"Hey, baby, stick your tongue out so I can watch it shoot
into your mouth without spilling a drop," he told her.
Brooke pressed her tongue against the underside of his cock,
keeping her head back and mouth wide open. It didn't take this
guy long, either, to give her a good, frothy drink.
"Aw, shit!" he exclaimed, as he shot his first wad of cum off
the roof of her mouth.
Another squirt of warm, creamy jizz followed, then another,
and another. Brooke's mouth was filling with the cop's spunk
faster than she could swallow.
"God, that's a load!" exclaimed his partner. "You're gonna
drown the poor kid."
The young cop kept on feeding the cheerleader his creamy
nectar, which pooled in her mouth. Brooke tried desperately to
gulp down the relentless flow of semen. Finally, the cascade of
cum slowed to a point where Brooke managed to swallow fast enough
to keep up. Mercifully, it trickled to a stop.
"Okay, baby, suck the last of it out, he told her.
Brooke sealed her lips around his cock and sucked as he
stroked himself down the shaft one last time, slowly squeezing
the last of his seed into the teenager's mouth. She felt the
last of his creamy goop as it hit her taste buds, and she
swallowed the last drops of it like a proper young cheerleader
should.
"Well, sweetheart, you've earned your freedom," said the
older cop, with a smile. "Just let us put you in the squad car
and take you a block away, so this store manager thinks we're
doing our job."
Brooke nodded as she pulled her bra and sweater back into
position, and then reached for her panties and cheer briefs,
quickly putting them back on. She smiled to herself, happy to be
out of trouble with the law, but also happy she had pleased these
men.

Chapter 1
You're at a drag show in a shit hole state. We'll say Louisiana. You're dressed like a complete fucking sissy. Little skirt. Stockings, heels, frilly panties, crop top, makeup.

The show gets busted by asshole cops on some stupid pretext. Everybody runs for the exits. Because you're a clumsy fucktoy when you're wearing heels you stumble and the cops grab you. You're the only one they catch. They throw you in a van and take you straight to prison. It's a work prison. There's a farm and guards on horseback.

You're taken to a cell with 7 other men. Big, strong, violent men. You're not sure if you're doomed or in heaven. It might be both.

They laugh at your appearance and taunt you. Inevitably they start to gather around you. Your clothes are ripped off. They ridicule your tiny dick. You beg them to stop but that simply encourages them to be crueler. They decide that if you're going to dress like a woman they'll treat you like one.

Fat cocks of every colour are whipped out. A thick black one is shoved in your mouth. A fat white one gets rammed, dry, up your ass. Your screams and crying only pushes them further into a frenzy. They each take a turn on your holes. 7 loads of cum in your mouth and all over your face. 7 loads of cum stuffed up your, now gaping, sissy ass.

When they finally finish raping you, leaving you laying in a puddle of cum and tears on the floor of the cell, they gather in a circle around you and begin pissing. 7 full bladders emptied all over your ruined faggot body and in your face.

And that's only the first night. It's going to get worse from here.....

Chapter 2
When you awaken in the morning you realize you've been tied to your bed. Face down. Ass up. Your cellmates are debating whether or not they they should fuck you then fist you, or fist you then fuck you. After a couple of minutes it's decided they should fuck you first because the fisting will probably destroy your boipussy and they won't enjoy raping you as much that way. They don't give a shit if it hurts, or actually, genuinely, destroys your ass. They just want they most pleasure from you before they dispose of you.
Even though your ass is still sore from the night before they start fucking you again. The pain, pleasure and humiliation are combining to turn you on and your clit starts to grow. They laugh and taunt you for liking it and promise that if you like this you'll love what comes later.

Just as the fifth guy is about to take his turn raping your slut ass the guards slam the door open. They give your cellmates shit for potentially ruining you before they've had a chance to have some fun with you. The warden promised them that you were free use and that anything goes. The warden has something special in store for you but that's going to come later.

The guards untie you from the bed and drag you out of the cell and down to the isolation unit. The whole journey they're mocking your tiny little clit and faggy breasts. Talking about how they're going to torture your titties and clit until you pass out. First though, they have a bet to settle. One of them has wagered that he can get his nightstick all the way up your boipussy. The others think it's too big and too long to fit.

You're bent over the end of the bed in your new cell and your wrists and ankles are zip tied to the frame. The guard spits on the end of his nightstick and begins pushing it up your ass. He wants to win this bet so he's trying not to completely fucking destroy your ass. The fat, hard stick is going in nicely. The gang rape you endured last night has loosened you up nicely for his purposes.

When he has it half way in it starts to meet resistance. The cocks that had their fun with you last night, while damn big, were only half as long as the nightstick. He pushes harder. You moan like the little whore you are. All the guards laugh as you grunt and moan. Still meeting resistance, he pushes harder. The stick slides a few more inches into your guts. You moan even louder, clearly enjoying being filled. He fucks it in and out of your faggy cunt, eliciting even more moans of pleasure from you. They're all amazed at what a depraved little sissy slut you are. A couple of them discuss how much they'll be able to abuse you now that they know you like it.

Determined to win the bet the guard begins hammering the nightstick up your ass. Deeper and deeper, closer and closer to reaching the handle. There's almost 18 inches of rock hard, polished, wood disappearing into your ass with each stroke. You realize, much to your dismay and shame, you want it all. You want him to win.

You're pushing back against the stick, willing it deeper into your cunt. Moaning, begging and crying for him to shove harder, to drive it deeper into you. Your clit is as hard as steel and beginning to leak precum. There will be no turning back at this point. The guards all know what a piece of perverse fuck meat you are and they won't protect you anymore. If the entire prison wants to line up and rape you, repeatedly, they won't stop it. You're not sure you'd want them to.

With one final shove the guard hammers the entire nightstick up your ass. You can feel it up against your stomach, destroying your ass even more, and ensuring your boipusy will be able to take incredible lengths.

He lets out a cheer while the other guards groan and grumble about having to pay the wager.

The stick is ripped from your cunt, leaving you gaping, raw and in pain. It also leaves you feeling empty, and wanting to be filled again.

As they're going, leaving you still tied to the bed, they promise they'll be back soon to continue your destruction.

ROUND THREE / UNEXPECTED DAY THREE

Continuation of my Minnesota adventure: May 2024 [another very long post]

To recap:
I was visiting T, my 52-year-old long-time red-haired FWB, for the first time since October 2021. In the interim, she’d had major female surgery, put on some unwanted weight due to the anti-depressant meds she’d been taking (although she still looked amazing to me), and dumped a 20-y/o lover because “he came too fast, didn’t have a decent job, and couldn’t eat pussy to save his life.” I’d made the drive from Denver to her small town, located a couple of hours southwest of the Twin Cities, with the intent of doing what we always did. That involved catching up on news since the last time we were together, taking in concerts, museums and other attractions while spending the weekend in the Twin Cities, and having sex – lots and lots of sex.

I woke up around 7:30 Tuesday morning, following another three-hour fuck session that had wrapped up around two a.m. Because T babysits her two-year-old grandson every weekday afternoon, I had only planned to sleep over for two nights and then come back for her on Friday. She was dead asleep alongside me, with the covers pulled up over her head, so I left her alone and got dressed in the living room. Her car, a Ford Focus, had been running on fumes the previous evening, so I filled it up at the nearest gas station and then stopped off at a drive-thru for a bagel. Culinary note: I asked for the bagel to be toasted, with cream cheese on the side. Who the fuck toasts a bagel without slicing it first??? Sheesh.

Anyway, I returned to her place and was having my breakfast when T came out of the bedroom and plopped down beside me. I noticed she’d put on yoga pants and a loose-fitting sweatshirt, which clearly indicated she was officially "not in the mood." She is NOT a morning person, and that includes morning sex. I offered her half my bagel, which she declined. She’s also not a breakfast person. “Are you sure you want to leave today?” T asked. “I thought we settled that on Sunday,” I replied. “I’ll be back Friday afternoon and we’ll spend the weekend in St. Paul.” She gave me one of those inscrutable looks that leave guys like me clueless. “Well, Donna is coming over for dinner. We do this every few weeks and, besides, she wants to meet you.”

Donna was one of T’s former coworkers, a tall Nordic blonde who’d succumbed to T’s bisexual charms during a blizzard in February and was apparently still infatuated with my red-haired Viking princess. “You can leave if you want,” T teased, “but you’ll miss out on a fun dinner.” Something told me that dinner wasn’t the only thing I’d miss by heading north, so I agreed to delay my drive by a day. Hey – I may be clueless when it comes to women, but I like to think I’m not an idiot!

We spent most of the day pretty much the same as on Monday, watching TV, reading, and having light-hearted conversation. After homemade bean burritos for lunch, I agreed to help her sort through her massive clothes collection that took up most of a second bedroom. It was a claustrophobic environment dominated by two huge dressers her grandparents had left to her. Piles of clothes occupied every flat surface, but the drawers were nearly empty. Our task was to divide the wardrobe up into Donate and Keep. I suggested the latter category was likely to include “fits me now” and “I hope it’ll fit again someday.” That remark earned me a not-so-playful punch on my arm, followed immediately by an offer to “kiss and make it better.”

For about two hours, I pulled out articles of clothing as T passed judgment on each item’s future. It was really humid, even with the a/c running, so she'd changed into a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had been cut down into shorts. Occasionally she felt compelled to try things on to see if they fit – some did, but many did not – which meant she was regularly showing me her tits while putting on blouses, and turning around to show off her lovely ass with each skirt or pair of pants we came across. There was hardly any floor space, so we were constantly bumping into each other. T was also being very tactile – stroking my arm, smacking me on the ass when I didn’t move out of her way fast enough, and delivering a series of random kisses. Finally, I got up the courage to ask about her behavior.

“You know,” I began apprehensively, “I can’t help but notice how affectionate you are. It’s like the old T has returned.” During past visits, she’d regularly initiated public displays of affection, but I never felt comfortable asking about this behavior – mostly because I didn’t want it to stop. “Why now; why me?” She froze with her hand halfway reaching for a hanger and turned to face me. “You really want to know?” she asked quietly. “Always,” I said. “I used to behave like this a lot, because I’m an affectionate person, but my actions kept getting taken the wrong way. Nearly every guy I’ve been with assumed I was coming on to them sexually, as in, I wanted to fuck them right then and there. You, on the other hand, never give me that vibe, because I know you truly care about me as a person, not just some sex object.”

I must have had a weird look on my face while trying to process what she’d said, because she stepped over the huge pile of clothes still on the floor and bumped up against me, wrapping her arms around my neck and planting a seriously hard kiss on my mouth. The phrase, “You know I adore you,” escaped my lips before I could even think about what I was saying. In return, T took half a step back and countered with, “Well, if you must know, I really DO want to fuck you, but that’ll have to wait because it’s almost time for me to go be with my grandson.” With that she giggled, pushed past me to climb out of the room, and called back in my direction as she was putting on her sneakers, “I’m watching him over at their place, because I don’t want to inflict him on you two days in a row. I’ll be back around 4:30.” And with that, she departed.

At 5:00 there was a knock on the door, so I hopped off the couch and went to answer it. T had previously texted me to say she wouldn’t be home until six o’clock but offered no further details. I opened up to greet a tall, slender woman with close-cropped blonde hair and a narrow face, carrying a grocery bag in each hand. I said, “You must be Donna,” at the same moment she said, “You must be Zac,” and we both laughed. I grabbed the bags out of her hands and took them straight to the kitchen. Since T lives in a double-wide trailer (err, “manufactured”) home, the counter was a mere three steps away. I explained that T was running late, and Donna countered with, “Yeah, she called to tell me that while I was at the Hy-Vee (the local supermarket), so I should just get dinner ready without her.” I offered to act as a backup chef, so we both did food prep. The menu included cucumber salad with onion, sliced tomatoes drizzled with olive oil, beer cheese soup, a baguette of French bread, and strawberry ice cream for dessert.

As we worked, we chatted amiably. I was curious about T’s experiences while working alongside Donna, and she confirmed that the stories I’d heard about harassment were true. “She just seems to attract asshole guys,” Donna said with conviction. Then, as she realized what she’d said, added, “Well, not you, obviously.” I laughed and countered with, “The jury might still be out on that one,” but she was quick to disagree. “Oh, no. T says you’re the sweetest guy. She told me you filled up her tank yesterday.” I couldn’t resist the double entendre. “You mean her car’s gas tank, right?” Donna burst out laughing. “Yeah – that, too.”

But before we could delve into additional semi-smutty talk, T returned and gave Donna a big hug and kiss. “Did you rope Zac into helping you with dinner?” she asked. “He volunteered and did a great job cutting up the vegetables,” she replied. I’d suggested we do the salad Hungarian style, dressed with sour cream, vinegar, and a dash of paprika. Lacking a dining table, we took our plates and bowls to the living room – five steps from the kitchen (!!) – and ate at the coffee table. I parked myself on T’s leather recliner, while the ladies sat on the couch.

After dessert, I gathered up the dishes and offered to do clean-up, to which there were no objections! While I was washing, drying and putting things away, T dragged out her cannabis paraphernalia and the two of them were soon “dabbing away.” Donna asked if they should save some for me, but T put the kibosh on that. “He’s got too much of a tolerance for pot,” T explained. “We split a tube Sunday night, and he didn’t even get high. I don’t think it affected him at all.” I chimed in with, “Well, it made me horny.” T responded with a laugh. “Geez, Zac, you’re hornier than any guy I know, so it clearly wasn’t the pot talking.” Naturally, Donna had to come back with, “So, how horny was he?” There was some whispering that followed between the two of them, and I was too far away to hear the conversation, except for the part where Donna said out loud, “How many times?” and then followed with “Oh, my god.”

I wrapped up my KP duties and started back toward my seat when T piped up with a request. “Zac, honey – can you go pick up something for us to drink? We’re too wasted to drive.” I reminded her we still had that Smirnoff swill from the night before, but T said, “Oh, I poured that out. It wasn’t very good.” That was the understatement of the week! Donna suggested a bottle of wine so, after a brief discussion of white versus red, they agreed “red” was the best choice. I grabbed my car keys and left the two of them puffing away on the couch.

The same woman who’d helped us the previous evening was back behind the counter. “How was that Smirnoff?” she asked. “Looking for another bottle?” [That's the issue with small towns; everyone knows your business!] I told her it was the worst stuff I’d tasted since that shot of vodka I’d sampled in a Bratislava grocery store decades earlier. That got a laugh out of her, and we chatted for about ten minutes about our respective overseas adventures, until I suddenly remembered why I was there. Two minutes and $15 later, I was on my way back to T’s place with what was reportedly a halfway decent bottle of California Cabernet.

As I walked into her place, the lights were off and no one was up front. I set the bottle down and slowly felt my way forward. The bedroom door was closed, and the rest of the place was nearly pitch-black. Because of the harsh Minnesota winters and the lack of decent insulation in her place, T keeps all the windows blocked year-round, because “it’s too much trouble to always be redoing them.” It’s like a goddamned cave in there; you can’t tell whether it’s day or night without opening the door and looking outside. I had my hands outstretched to aid in moving ahead, but thankfully it’s a very narrow hallway with no obstacles. I put my ear to the bedroom door but couldn’t make out any sounds. I thought about calling out, but instead I retraced my steps to the living room, stripped down to just my boxer briefs, and returned to where I’d just been standing.

As quietly as I could, I twisted the door handle and pulled the bedroom door open. The first thing I noticed was a pile of women’s clothes lying on the floor. Peeking around the corner, I saw two naked women erotically positioned and illuminated by the dim bedside lamp at the far side of the room. T was lying on her back, her thighs spread wide and the fingers of her left hand making slow circles around her clit. Donna was sitting on T’s face, grinding away, while the palms of her hands were pressed flat against the bedroom wall, since T’s double bed has no headboard. Neither woman was being particularly vocal – Donna was breathing hard, but quietly, whereas whatever sounds T was making were being directed straight into Donna’s vagina. I took off my boxers and began to stroke my cock, which was quickly at attention.

I was being quiet, but Donna turned her head and caught me out of the corner of her eye as I was standing at the side of the bed with my cock in my hand. “Guess—who’s—back?” Donna managed to announce, in between gasps for air. T mumbled something that I couldn’t understand, but Donna was apparently skilled at interpreting mouth-to-pussy speech. “She wants you to go down on her,” Donna translated, so I wasted no time climbing onto the bed and hopping to it. I pushed T’s hand aside and wrapped my lips around her little button-clit. I sucked on it hard, which really sets her off, and then I shoved two fingers deep into her pussy.

Eighteen months earlier, when T had the first of two back-to-back vaginal surgeries, she was worried they would affect her “pleasure parts,” as she called them. But for the past two nights, I was a witness that she was as orgasmic as she’d ever been. Meanwhile, Donna was raking her crotch up and down T’s mouth, and I looked up just as T took the hand she’d been using on her clit and stuck her middle finger deep into Donna’s ass. “Well, that’s an interesting turn of events,” I thought to myself. T was not a fan of anal play on herself, although she occasionally enjoyed it when I moistened my index finger and rimmed her butthole while simultaneously circling her clit with my tongue. She calls it “the double roundabout.” This was the first time I’d seen her finger-fuck another woman in the ass, although she’s never been shy about pounding a girlfriend’s other hole with her fingers. It didn’t take long for me to get T bucking and moaning, and I stayed with it until she exploded into a thigh-quivering orgasm.

After lifting myself up to catch a breath, I decided not to continue with more cunnilingus but instead mounted T, shoving my cock into her ultra-moist pussy. She made a half-hearted effort to push me away, but my 225 pounds was no match for her 140, so I stayed put. With Donna’s firm ass staring me in the face – she hadn’t dismounted from T’s face, despite already having had at least one orgasm – I balanced precariously on top of T and used my hands to grip Donna’s buttocks and spread them apart. Seconds later, she had the experience of two tongues on her, with one at each hole.

T mumbled something, with Donna apparently understanding her query, because she replied, “He’s got his tongue in my ass.” I sure did! But while focusing my attention on the shapely tush in front of me, I’d stopped fucking T and simply left my cock motionless, albeit balls-deep in her pussy. She seemed miffed by this lack of attention, because she responded by wrapping her legs around my thighs and humping up against me, fighting to attain yet another orgasm. Donna came with a grunt and a shudder, moaned, “Ohhhh, gawd!” and rolled off T’s face to collapse on the far side of the bed. Unfortunately, her unexpected dismount caused her knee to smack against the side of my head, and I think I might have lost consciousness for a few seconds. When I regained my senses, I’d rolled off T, having ended up on the same side of the bed where Donna had landed.

“Are you OK?” Donna asked, with concern in her voice. “Did I hurt you?” I pressed my hand to the spot where her knee had made contact with my skull. “No blood, no foul, I guess,” was my flippant reply, which was enough to elicit a hearty laugh from both women. It seemed like a good time to take a break, so I slid down to lie across the bottom edge of the mattress and laid my head on my outstretched arm. T said, “I think we could all use a drink,” and for once, I agreed that was a good idea. She climbed off the bed and slipped quickly into the kitchen, where we could hear her cursing because she couldn’t immediately find a corkscrew. I was torn between remaining in the bedroom and watching Donna play with her clit, which she was doing absent-mindedly, and following T into the kitchen to lend a hand with the wine. With the cry, “Zac – come here. I need you,” the decision was made for me.

I found T leaning back against the sink, the wine bottle in one hand and a fairly elaborate corkscrew device in the other. “I think I’m too high to figure this out,” she admitted, so I relieved her of both items and managed to extract the cork without damaging my hand, or my male ego. T looked absolutely delicious, nude with her pale pink nipples at full attention, her flushed skin accentuating the freckles on her chest, her red triangle down below curly and enticing, and the tang of pussy juice in the air. We stood there, wordlessly, for a few seconds – each checking out the other person’s body – until she reached out and wrapped her hand around my semi-tumescent cock. Then, she uttered a sentence any red-blooded male would love to hear in that situation: “I want to watch you fuck Donna, and then I’ll clean you both up.”

She and I have performed this act before, but the last time was old-COVID. Back in 2019, while spending a fuck-filled four-day weekend in a St. Paul Airbnb, she’d picked up a waitress at the neighborhood pastry shop. We’d gone there for breakfast two days in a row, where during each visit T got more and more flirty with the young woman behind the counter. On Day Three, after telling me to pay the bill and then scram, she somehow talked Simone into coming over to our place once her shift ended at noon. Awaiting her arrival, T told me Simone was only interested in girl-on-girl sex, which was OK with me. And true to her word, Simone showed up on time, stripped off her clothes, and dove into T’s pussy as if she hadn’t had sex in months – which turned out to be the case. I sat on the sidelines, stroking and watching, as they both worked each other into multiple orgasmic frenzies. Taking a break, T said to Simone, “I’m thinking about sucking Zac’s cock, because I love the taste of his cum, but I’d like it even better if it came dripping out of your pussy.” Simone seemed more than a bit skeptical, until T told her that I’d do her doggy-style so she didn’t have to see me fucking her, and that I’d do my best to ejaculate quickly. Given the stroke job I’d been doing on myself the previous 30 minutes, that last part wasn’t going to be a problem. Simone agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and I took her from behind – a deliciously tight 22-year-old pussy that needed only half a dozen pumps to get blasted. T fulfilled her part of the bargain and even managed to make Simone orgasm one last time as my man-jizz ended up all over T’s face and then down her throat.

On this evening, however, there was no reluctant acceptance on Donna’s part. I carried three full wine glasses into the bedroom, distributed them accordingly, and then T announced the next stage in our hours-long fuck-fest. As soon as T explained what she wanted us to do, Donna and I looked at each other and asked, nearly simultaneously, “How do you want me?” That got all three of us laughing, but T had her own idea. “Do her missionary, Zac, so the cum won’t leak out before I gobble it up.” Thankfully I wasn’t drinking from my wineglass at that moment, because I would have probably done a spit-take onto her lovely striped cotton sheets. Instead, I drained the last of the liquid and handed my glass to T, who set it down on the nightstand closest to the bedroom door. Then I dove forward to shove my face into Donna’s crotch.

I’d caught her by surprise, but she didn’t voice a single objection, instead sliding her butt forward so she could lie flat on the bed. I tongued her slit for a minute or two – she tasted really good – and then hopped up onto my knees and guided my dick into her pussy hole. Donna reached up and pushed against my shoulders. I thought she was doing that to get me off her, but she only wanted to create enough room to pull her knees up and press them against my chest. This was actually a very effective fucking position for me, because her legs acted as a sort of spring against which I could thrust and retract. She supplied at least half of the motion, and I was able to hang onto her knees for leverage instead of having to use my arms to bear the weight of my body.

We built up a good rhythm, with lots of heavy breathing on both our parts. Meanwhile, T was sitting cross-legged on her side of the bed, finger-fucking herself with an in-and-out motion that matched my own pussy pounding. Just as T said to Donna, “Don’t be surprised, but he sometimes takes a while to come,” I froze on the downstroke as my cock pumped three or four streams of cum deep into Donna’s pussy. All she said was, “Done?” and when I could only nod my head, she used her legs to push me off her while holding her ass up off the bed. T swooped in and dove for the gusto, first licking up the drops of cum that had dripped off my cock as I withdrew, and then using her fingers to dig deep for the rest of the load.

I managed to stand up at the foot of the bed, knees sagging a bit against the edge of the mattress to maintain my balance. T was really slurping up what I’d left for her, and I jacked my dick a bit as I watched. Having completed her task on Donna, T spun around and licked me clean. “Fuck, that was fun!” she exclaimed, and then guzzled down the rest of the wine in her glass.

We’d easily passed the three-hour mark, and I was exhausted. The ladies climbed off the bed and headed to the bathroom, while I flopped down onto the mattress with the aim of slipping off to dreamland. T had other ideas, however. “Hey,” she called out, which awakened me from my near-slumber. “Donna’s staying over, so you’ll have to camp out on the couch.” I began to object, but my argument fell on deaf ears. “There’s just no room, Zac. Sorry. You’ll find an extra pillow and a blanket in the room where my clothes are.” I passed Donna on my way down the hall, pillow and blanket in hand. She’d stopped off in the kitchen for a glass of water and patted me on the ass while I was setting things up on the couch. I straightened up and gave her a kiss on the cheek, but she put her hand gently on the side of my face – coincidentally, the same side where she’d kneed me earlier – and gave me a deep kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you in the morning, OK?” she whispered. I thanked her for an amazingly fun time, which got a shy smile from her before she returned to the bedroom and closed the door.

I’m sure I fell asleep within minutes of stretching out on the couch. At six-foot-zero, I had just enough room to lie on my side (my preferred sleeping position) with my knees slightly bent. Even so, my head was pressed against one arm of the couch, and my feet rested up against the other one. Many hours later – I had no idea of the time, since the windows were blocked and my iPhone was in the other room – I was awakened by something stroking my lower leg. Forgetting where I was for a moment, I imagined it was my cat, Jemima, since she rubs up against me every morning as if to say, “Hey, human. It’s time for my breakfast.” So, when I opened my eyes to see Donna perched on the edge of the couch, as naked as she’d been the night before, I regained full consciousness damned quickly.
She put her finger to her lips and motioned for me to slide over. As skinny as she was, there was still hardly any room to accommodate her lying next to me, so she ended up mostly on top, one knee between my legs, her well-trimmed crotch pressed against my hip, her breasts against my chest, and her mouth a mere inch from mine. “I know T isn’t into morning sex,” Donna said in a very low voice, “but I hear you’re quite the fan, right?” I agreed and lifted my head up so I could give her a good-morning kiss. She slipped her tongue into my mouth while reaching down and wrapping her fingers around my rapidly rising cock. “Mmm, morning wood is the best wood, don’t you agree?” she teased. She squeezed me gently, and we continued to make out as she ground her pussy against my hip bone. Once she determined I was sufficiently erect, Donna threw her leg across my body and straddled me effortlessly. “You were on top last night, so now it’s my turn,” she said. Before I could object – not that it even occurred to me to do so – she had my cock all the way inside her pussy and was rocking back and forth on it with gusto. I reached up and tugged on her small nipples, which were like rock-hard cherries, and she worked her way into two very quick and enthusiastic orgasms.
Donna climbed off after her second orgasm but recognized I hadn’t had one. She teased me a bit with her tongue on the very tip of my cock, pushing my hands away as I tried (unsuccessfully) to engage her mouth more fully. “Be a good boy and put your hands behind your head,” she instructed, “or else I’ll leave you to take matters into your own hands.” At my age, I wasn’t sure how much cum I could muster, given the prodigious amount I’d pumped into her pussy just six or seven hours earlier, but any blow job was better than no blow job. [I think I read that saying needlepointed on a pillow, once.] Donna continued to tease my twitching cock, using only her tongue and resting her hands on either side of my body for balance. She must have toyed with me like this for 10 or 15 minutes before finally relenting and taking my dick all the way into her mouth. Her tongue action continued to be amazing as she bobbed her head up and down only slightly. Still, it was enough of a turn-on for me that I managed to ooze out a bit of cum as I orgasmed. Donna gave me a pretty smile, climbed off the couch, and said she was heading to the shower. “You could probably use one, too,” she insisted, so I joined her under a thin stream of warm water and soaped up her body as she returned the favor. We didn’t get into anything more sexual, but I truly enjoyed the mutual contact.

T climbed out of her bedroom about an hour later, already dressed for the day in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Donna and I were sitting on the couch, a respectable distance away from each other, as we watched a local TV news show. T greeted each of us with a kiss and then went into the kitchen to brew herself a cup of tea. Upon her return, she squeezed in between us and stretched out her legs so her feet rested on the coffee table. Looking at each of us in turn, she asked, “So, did you two have a nice morning fuck?” Before either of us could answer, though, she leaned over and kissed Donna on the mouth. “Thanks for taking one for the team,” she giggled. “You know I’m not into old-noon dick.” I shot back, “I guess I'll set my alarm for 12:05 then.” T stuck out her tongue at me and said, “You’re leaving for St. Paul as soon as you get packed, and Donna will help me with my clothing once you leave.”

After that comeback, I had nothing more to say, so I placed my pjs and my shaving kit into my suitcase and headed for the door. T forestalled me as I passed through the kitchen and wrapped her arms around me in a sensuous hug. “I’ll see you on Friday, lover,” she breathed into my ear, and moments later I was in my car. My final, fleeting thought as I drove down Broadway toward the highway was, “Well, I think my tongue AND my cock can use the three-day break.”

Femdom exhibitionist

I have turned in to quite a sexual exhibitionist. It is now my favorite fetish. My pussy gets soaked just from the anticipation and of showing off my body. It makes me feel powerful to know that I can show my pussy to anyone I want to and that my husband is humiliated but powerless to stop me. I get so turned on knowing strange guys will be seeing my tits, ass and pussy. It is a special treat for me to know that I have exposed my naughtiest body part. What a rush it is to know a stranger is looking at my butt hole and my submissive hubby just has to tolerate it.

A lot of the thrill for me is in the planning. I like to make it look like an accident or like we got caught so that the voyeur feel like he caught a glimpse of something he wasn’t supposed to see. Trips to the beach make for a flashing frenzy. A slip around a married guy can make his day.

I love it when we’re staying in a hotel just outside of our hometown. Open hotel window blinds open a whole new world of flashing for me. We always strive to get a first-floor window unit or one facing a structure that will provide my audience. Hubby hates it; too bad.

We always order a pizza even if we go out to dinner as the delivery boy adds another player to our game. Then of course there’s the problem with the room that someone has to come and check. A door cracked open just enough and have mirror at the right angle make showing my body seem like an accident.