Shattering the Myth

  I laid down again and got in the missionary position so he could stick it in. It went in pretty smoothly; not like the first time when he had to force it in. He started pumping his dick in and out my pussy and lifted up my left leg, holding it up with his shoulder. He took me much harder tonight than before. I guess he figured it was time to take it to the bridge.

  The grand finale of the fireworks was amazing, just like the love Pookie and I were making. He kept going and going at it and I was overcome by how long he lasted. One of my girlfriends told me that boys last longer after they cum the first time. I guess she was right.

  I came so hard that it scared me. I didn’t cum at all the first time we did it and so tonight, I experienced my first orgasm. It was amazing. While Pookie was walking me home, I kept replaying my orgasm over and over again in my mind.

  When we got back to the house, he kissed me on my cheek because he knew Daddy was looking out on the front porch through the curtains. I told him I would see him at church tomorrow morning. I can hardly wait. As Pookie walked off, he turned around and said one day he was going to marry me. This might sound crazy, but you know what? I believe him!

  After I finished reading the diary entry, I repeated the word, “DAYUMMMMMMMMMM!”

  I couldn’t believe one of my aunts had written it. I guess it’s always hard to picture people older than me being young and having such experiences.

  As I replaced the diary and put all the other things back on top of it, I realized reading it had made my pussy start throbbing. I was so horny and had not a clue what to do. I didn’t bring my vibrator or dildo with me on my trip for two reasons. First of all, because I didn’t want them to show up on the X-ray machines at the airport and secondly, because who in the hell plans on masturbating while on vacation at their grandparents’ house.

  I had to do something, so I closed up the trunk and pushed it back in the corner, grabbed a baton from one of the boxes, pulled the string on the light, and then sat back on the window seat. The only light left in the attic came from the moonlight streaming in through the small square window by the seat and the faint light at the bottom of the stairs emitting from the hallway downstairs.

  I pulled my nightgown up, pushed my panties out the way, and started fucking myself with one end of the baton. The rubber end and cold metal created a strange sensation, one that turned me on even more.

  I pushed more and more of the baton inside me until no more would fit comfortably. I spread my legs open wider and starting grinding my hips on to it like it was a big, juicy dick.

  I used my free hand to undo the top two buttons of my gown so I could caress my breasts. I pushed my right one up as far as I could and swiped my tongue back and forth across my erect nipple.

  This continued on for a good fifteen minutes. The whole time I was imagining the couple in the story who were faceless to me. Yet the woman was obviously one of my mother’s sisters. I was dying to know which one.

  After playing the whole excerpt from the diary out in my mind and fucking myself royally with the baton, I came like a clap of thunder. I sat there for a couple minutes to regain my normal breathing pattern, which had become shallow. It always does after I cum.

  I made sure everything was just like it was before and then tiptoed back down the steps through the closet, shutting the door behind me, and went back to my mother’s bedroom.

  My grandparents were still sleeping soundly. By that time, it was getting pretty late. I may not have been tired before going up the attic but after masturbating like that, falling asleep came easily.

  I woke up the next day still wondering whom the diary belonged to. I devised a plan in my mind to find out.

  Thanksgiving dinner went off beautifully, and I had a great time catching up with my aunts and their families. While we sat around reminiscing about the past, I looked at all of them and couldn’t picture any of them being the woman from the story. They all seemed so demure.

  When they were all putting on their coats and such to leave, I put my plan into action. I told them I had lost my address book and wanted to make sure I had their correct information so I could write to them and call from time to time.

  I went from one to the other, asking that all three of them write down their home address and phone number. Later that evening, while I was munching on a slice of Grandma’s peach pie that I am totally and undeniably addicted to, I looked at the paper.

  All the handwritings were similar. If not for the fact that their names were there, I wouldn’t have known who wrote what. Unfortunately, none of the writing samples looked like the writing from the diary.

  I figured a person’s handwriting does change over the years, and trying to figure the owner of the diary was a lost cause. I was just so amazed by it, but you win some and you lose some.

  My grandparents took me to the airport the next day to catch my plane back home. I kissed them good-bye at the gate and told them how much I love them. I promised it wouldn’t take me nearly as long to visit again as it did in the past. Grandma surprised me by handing me an index card, telling me she had written down the recipe for her peach pie.

  I told her thanks and shoved it in my pocket. They were having final boarding, and I had to rush. I made it onto the plane and found my seat seconds before the pilot put on the Fasten Seatbelt sign.

  I flipped through the airline magazine stuffed into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of me but found it dull at best. I had meant to pick up a novel or magazine in the gift shop but got to the terminal too late to risk it.

  Once again, I was stuck with nothing to read. Halfway through the flight, I started thinking about my grandma’s peach pie. I took the recipe out my pocket to look over the ingredients and directions.

  I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I instantly knew they weren’t. The handwriting on the index card was identical to the one from the diary, and I was in shock. The woman in the diary, the one whose sexual experience had driven me to the point of masturbation, and ultimately orgasm, was my own grandmother.

  It wasn’t until a week later, when my mother called from Europe, that I found out Grandma’s pet name for Grandpa used to be Pookie. Dayum, who would have thought it!

  The Seduction

  The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew that I wanted to feel you inside me. The first time you kissed me, I thought that I would die. Yet and still, two months and several dates later, we had yet to make love. Partly because you respected me enough to wait and partly because we both wanted the first time to be special.

  I decided it was time, since I knew that my body could not settle down for another night’s sleep without you. You invaded my every thought. I dreamed of you doing things to me all the time, whether I was stuck in rush-hour traffic or walking down the aisle in the grocery store. The mere thought of you made my juices flow. I was determined to make the night special, something neither one of us would ever forget.

  It was a Friday evening about 6 P.M. when you left your office, tired but elated that the workweek was over. We didn’t have any plans and hadn’t spoken, even by telephone, for the past few days, which is why the note in the white envelope with lace trim on your windshield took you by total surprise.

  As you lifted the note from under the wiper, you could smell the scent of my perfume, all too familiar to you now, breeze past your nose in the brisk October wind. It was a cold evening, but I had plans to warm you up.

  You opened the note and read it:

  Hey Baby,

  I know we didn’t have plans for tonight, but I have a surprise for you. You have to come to me in order to find out what it is. A friend of mine asked me to house-sit her new home while she is out of town getting her furniture. It is kind of way out, so I drew you a map on the back of this note.

  If you want to experience a night of lovemaking that will stimulate all of your senses and allow me to pamper your entire body as well as your mind, CUM TO ME! Don’t bring anything but your sexy ass. Hurry up
baby because I need you.

 

  Zane

  You smile as you see the imprint of my lips, in red lipstick, at the very bottom of the note. You can feel your dick getting hard in your pants as you lick your lips and drive off to begin our adventure together.

  The house was indeed hard to find but you accomplished the deed and pulled up in the secluded driveway about an hour later. It was a nice little cottage way out in the country, surrounded by trees. As you got out of the car, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was. You thought you heard an owl way off in a distant tree as you approached the front door.

  When you got to the door, there was a piece of paper attached to it saying:

  Roses are red

  Violets are blue

  Tonight’s the night

  For me and you

  Come in my love

  And you will find

  In front of you

  A glass of wine

  You turned the doorknob and opened the door and entered into my idea of romance. The entire house appeared empty, for there was no furniture as far as you could see. Every room was lit up by flickering pillar candles, all vanilla scented, in various sizes and shapes. In the living room, you could see the fire I had built for us. A single glass of white zinfandel was sitting on the hearth. As you picked it up and began to sip on it, you noticed a white silk scarf and another note lying beside it. You read it:

  Quench your thirst

  With this glass of wine

  Relax a bit

  And unwind

  Then cover your eyes

  Give in to me

  I will cum for you

  And help you to see

  A faint laugh escapes your lips as you finish up your glass of wine. Then you cover your eyes with the silk scarf without hesitation, wondering what I have in store for you next.

  As soon as you complete your task, you hear the sounds of Kenny G coming from upstairs. Because of the music, you don’t hear my light footsteps descending the stairs and walking up behind you. Once I am very close, you can smell my sweet perfume. You begin to say hello to me, but I reach around in front of you and cover your lips with one of my fingers and say, “Shhhhhh!”

  I felt we had talked enough, and I wanted the night to be all about the other senses. I had always wanted to get to know you three ways. I knew you mentally, and now, I wanted to get to know you physically and orally.

  I put my hand up to your chest and could feel your heartbeat. I took your right hand and placed it over my heart, and you noticed that my chest was bare. I was already completely nude. For a brief moment, we admired the life emitting from both of us as two heartbeats became one.

  I took you by the hand and led you up the stairs to the bathroom where a candlelit bubble bath was waiting. As I began to undress you, you could smell the essence of the rose petals scattered over the top of the bathwater. I undressed you very slowly, admiring every inch of you as it was revealed.

  Once you were undressed, I bit my bottom lip with excitement as I took in the splendor of your dick with my eyes. I helped you up the two steps that led to the huge whirlpool garden tub and guided you in. I sat down in front of you with my legs over your thighs and began to bathe you with a soft bath sponge. I began with the top of your head, then moved on to your chest, your back, your shoulders, your arms, your dick, your thighs, and your knees. Finally, I bathed your feet.

  One at a time, I took your toes into my mouth and suckled on them, enjoying the reaction on your face and the low moans coming from your sexy lips as the water vibrating out of the whirlpool jets tingled our skin.

  When I was done, I stood you up, helped you out of the tub, and began to dry you off with a soft cotton bath towel. I quickly discarded that option and decided to lick you dry instead. Systematically, I licked the remaining water off every inch of you. I remember thinking that I had never in life tasted something so delicious.

  I traced a trail with my tongue around each one of your nipples and down the middle of your chest to your belly button. I got down on my knees and licked each one of your thighs and knees and then turned you around so I could lick the back of your thighs and knees. I took the thickness of my tongue and lapped up all the droplets on the cheeks of your ass, licked the entire crease, and then stuck my tongue deep inside your asshole. I could feel you shiver as I turned you around again and took your balls gently into my mouth, suckling the water droplets off of them as well.

  What I really craved to lick all over was your beautiful dick, and I did just that. With you still blindfolded by the silk scarf, I devoured every inch of you while you stood there and dick-fed me for the first time. As you ran your fingers through my damp hair that smelled of the strawberry shampoo I used that morning, I took my time enjoying my candy treat. I arched my neck back so that I could take you all in for what seemed like endless moments. When I sensed you were about to explode, I reached up and removed the blindfold from your eyes, and you saw me for the first time that day and the first time ever in the nude.

  As your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw me sitting there on my knees with my cherry-colored lips surrounding your dick, my nipples harder than diamonds, and water trickling down my bare back onto my succulent ass. There among the candlelight, with Kenny G still emitting through the master bedroom door into the bathroom, you looked down and removed the hair from in front of my eyes just in time to look deep into them as you came into my mouth for the very first time.

  We both lost control as your warm, sweet nectar trickled down my throat and lined my insides with your essence. After I had partaken of every drop, I stood up and whispered in your ear that it wasn’t over yet, and the only response you could muster was “Dayummmmm!”

  I took you by the hand and led you into the bedroom, where you spotted the single piece of furniture in the whole house, a king-size sleigh bed covered with black satin sheets. Candles also lighted the bedroom, and the single white rose I had gotten for you was lying on a pillow in the center of the bed. I laid you down upon the satin sheets. As lightning began to invade the room from over the horizon, tracing both our bodies with its presence, I took the single rose, began at the top of your head, and moved it all the way down the center of your body. I paused it for a moment at the tip of your nose so that you could admire the essence of it. You laughed a little as the rose petals tickled your skin.

  I reached over to the side of the bed onto the floor and returned with a bottle of scented body oil and two more silk scarves. I tied your hands to the headboard and proceeded to give you a full body massage, working my small delicate hands over your smooth skin. I massaged you from head to toe, making sure that you were totally relaxed. Then I reached over and got the bottle of honey I had waiting beside the bed and squeezed a few drops over both of my breasts. I fed them to you, one at a time, as you laid there with your head on the pillow.

  After breast-feeding you for a few moments, I took the honey and squeezed some all over my vagina and ass. Then, I climbed on top of your face in the sixty-nine position and felt you begin to suck on my clit with a desire no other man had ever shown. I poured some honey on your dick and began to lick it all off, making long, circular strokes around the shaft with the tip of my tongue. We sucked on each other for a long time, and the CD player kicked over to the next one in sequence, Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite, as we both had orgasm on top of orgasm.

  We devoured each other until we were both completely exhausted, our mouths were sore, my pussy was swollen, and your dick had the kind of tender soreness that comes about when too many orgasms are reached at one time. We both fell asleep just like we were positioned, with my pussy on your face and the head of your dick in my mouth, your hands still tied to the bed.

  The music eventually faded out sometime during the night, and all the candles burned completely down, leaving only the lightning flashes and the distant claps of thunder to invade our private paradise.

  In the morning, you awoke to find
your hands untied and me standing there with a silver tray, holding the breakfast I had prepared to serve in bed. We fed each other the chocolate-covered strawberries, grapes, and freshly baked blueberry muffins with our fingers.

  There, in the first sunlight of the day, you and I made love for the very first time, and I finally got my wish. I felt you inside of me. Now, years later, with our fifth wedding anniversary approaching, we both smile at each other with the secret only the two of us know every time we visit my friend in the country, the godmother of our firstborn son. Whenever life seems to pale in comparison, we remember the night I first seduced you and welcome the challenge of making our next night of passion top every one before it. Guess what, baby? You never, ever disappoint me.

  Nervous

  For as long as I could remember, I had always been nervous. Nervous about school. Nervous about friends. Nervous about relationships with men. Even nervous about talking to my own mother. I don’t know whether it was something deep-rooted inside of me from an early childhood experience or whether it was something that was just meant to be.

  I lived in my own little world by the time I was twenty-two years old. I was fresh out of college and working as a project coordinator for a nonprofit organization in Philadelphia. I selected that job because I wouldn’t have to deal with too many people on a daily basis. I only had face-to-face dealings with a few of the people from the office, mostly women, and I was very thankful for that. My daily routine consisted of going to work, stopping off at a carryout on the way home to pick up dinner, and then retiring to my cozy but cramped one-bedroom apartment for the rest of the night, only to repeat the same exact steps the next day. When it came to dealing with a man on an intellectual level, any man, my palms would get sweaty, and my knees would tremble a little. I am not sure how noticeable it was to anybody but me. However, it was definitely a regular occurrence.