Contributing to the delinquency of a (hot) minor

Everything has been going so well, for so long, that I had forgotten what an asshole I turn into when I can't get laid.

I was starting to lose my patience with people in the office. I never yell, but I do give nasty looks. Yesterday, Bonnie, one of our older receptionists, stuck her head in the door to tell me that we were doing a birthday cake in the conference room for one of our employees.

I wheel around in my chair and just glare at her, my brow furrowed, chewing my bottom lip.

"Ohhh, I'm very sorry Steve," she says, running away.

Lila has been in lockdown for weeks, and I am tired of sneaking around. I am not one to sit around lamenting my lot in life; when things go wrong, I devise a plan....

What if I "hire" Lila to clean my house, or my garage, or my frenulum (look it up), or whatever I want, for about 5-10 hours per week, and pay her $100 bucks a week or so for it?

It's perfect! Lila gets some extra cash (she already makes enough for a car payment, but if she is looking to move out, a little more would help), her mother would probably approve, knowing that she is in the mature and capable hands of her boss Steve (chortle, chortle) and that she is working, not socializing. And we wouldn't have to sneak around! Suddenly, there would be a perfectly acceptable explanation as to why I am driving Lila back and forth to her house.

[cue maniacal laughter]

I call Lila into my office and tell her about the idea.

"Oh YEAH! Of COURSE!!" She says. "This is PERFECT! But..."

"Hummm?"

"Do I really have to clean?"

"Lila. Come on! My house is friggin spotless! Maybe I'll have you fold my laundry or empty the dishwasher. The rest of the time, we can hang out!"

"And we don't have to sneak around," she says.

"Yeah!"

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know how long it's been?" she asks.

"Since we've had sex?"

"Six days, 20 hours," she says.

"I'm going nuts too," I say.

She looks at the door, then back at me. Is she thinking what I think she is thinking?

I've always wanted to do it in my office. Always. I have a dead bolt on my office door, and the only one who would dare interrupt me if it were closed is Ross, and he is out of the office for the rest of the week...

I buzz Bonnie. "Bonnie, Lila and I will be on a conference call for the next half hour. Can you cover her desk?"

"Sure, Steve."

Lila gets up and closes the door, then turns the dead bolt. She is wearing a pink and white 3/4 sleeve blouse. She pulls it up over her head.

She is wearing a cream colored satin bra. There is something bizarre about seeing her in her underwear in my place of business. It's unusual, and fascinating, and totally fucking hot at the same time.

She steps out of her clogs, unhooks her denim skirt and slides it down her legs in that sexy way she has. She is wearing pink panties.

Hey, you didn't borrow those from a chick named Kelly by any chance, did ya?

She stops and looks at me, smirking.

"What."

"Are you getting undressed, or what??" She says.

Oh, shit!

I pull off my polo shirt (we have a business casual dress code) and unhook my belt. I take my pants off, gingerly and quietly. I hope my keys don't jingle too loudly, I think.

She sits in my lap on my high-back leather office chair. Her hair almost completely covers my face. The green-apple smell envelops me; it's intoxicating.

I can feel her skin, warm and smooth, against mine. She reaches back and grabs my hands in hers, stretching our arms out to either side.

Ok, what is this? Office sex aerobics?

I kiss her neck. She turns her head towards me and puts her lips against mine, slipping her tongue into my mouth.

I always envisioned sex in my office as a quickie. But, now that I am finally doing it, everything is happening with exquisite slowness, every detail amplified and magnified.

I open my eyes while Lila and I are kissing. Her eyes are closed, her long eyelashes resting against her cheeks. The angle of her nose, the tight, round slope of her chin, the slight hollowness of her cheeks: They are all flawless.

Why me? I think. What makes me so deserving of her? What does a girl like this want with me? I am almost twice her age! Yeah, I have confidence. I like myself. But she could have....anyone....

"Steve?"

"Hmmm?"

"Baby, is everything ok?" she asks.

"Lila, why do you say you love me so much?"

"Because I do!"

"Why?"

OK, am I turning into a girl? Again?

She turns around and faces me, one foot on the floor.

"Because, Steve, you amaze me! You are so smart, and so funny, and so confident. I love learning from you and hearing what you have to say. And you're always right! People look up to you! Even people older than you-"

I kiss her. "MMMMMMMMMMMMMM," she says.

"You're so sweet, baby," I say. I reach behind her back and unhook her, with one hand. Like I said, it's a rare skill. But here is how you do it:

Reach behind her back and slip your middle finger under the part where the two straps meet. Pull UP with your middle finger, so that the clasp is sticking straight out. Pinch one strap between your thumb and middle finger, and pull on the other strap with your index finger. It takes practice, but you'll get it. If you live with your wife or girlfriend, get ahold of one of her bras when she is not home, hook it around a chair, and practice.

She pulls her panties down. I can still see her, even now, bent over at the waist, her porcelain skin hugging every angle and curve of her body tightly and firmly.

She flips her hair over her right shoulder and straddles me, her knees on the seat cushion. I enter her.

I let out a sigh. It's a huge relief for me, actually being able to have sex again. It's THIS moment, THIS feeling, that explains why masturbation doesn't come close to the real thing.

I suck her nipple while she rides me. I lean back and watch her hips as she grinds them rhythmically against mine. She leans her head back; I feel her hair brush against my legs. She moans quietly.

Her hands are on the arm rests. She is pumping me more urgently, now.

"Ohhhhhhhh," she says. She stops fucking.

"Ohh, oh my godohmygodohmygoooooood," she whispers. I feel her clamp down on me, her body shuddering with orgasm.

I like watching Lila come. And usually, if she has come, it means I have not yet, so there's always an awkward 2-3 minute period after her orgasm where I'm trying to get off before she totally dries up and loses interest.

I shouldn't have worried. Lila reaches down and starts to rub me, with me still inside her. She knows just how I like it, slow and steady, not too hard. I grab her hand and stop it, near the base of my cock. I squeeze her fingers a bit.

The contractions start from inside me. Suddenly, I am gushing into her, filling her full of jizz.

Lila is kissing my neck. "Baby, that was soooo good...I [kiss] love you [kiss]..." Now she is kissing my chest, softly and gently, the way you kiss a new baby. "[kiss] love you so much [kiss]..." Her pouty lips are forming a big letter "O". She is bending over to kiss my chest. I pull her to me and kiss her. Her lips engulf my mouth, her tongue is licking me; the smacking sounds are driving me insane.

I am hard again.

Lila turns around. Her round, firm ass is against my throbbing cock. She rubs it, up and down, against me. I HAVE to fuck her again.

I open my desk drawer. Shit, do I have lube in the office? I don't think so. Maybe I'll find something.

Altoids. Cough drops. business cards. Office keys. Sugar packets.

Fuck. FUCK! Come ON, man!!

AHA!! Vaseline lip therapy! Not ideal. But close enough.

The tube is half full. "Lip therapy" is the same as regular Vaseline; only the packaging is different. I squeeze a glob of it on the head of my cock. Then more on the index and middle fingers on my right hand. The tube is almost empty.

I rub the Vaseline around her tight little asshole. It is spotlessly clean: You'd never guess shit comes out of there!

I press the head against her ass, slowly. I push it with my fingers, just a bit, and hold it there. I can feel her hole opening.

It takes a while, but now my head is inside her. I work it, slowly, gently, in and out, until suddenly I am almost all the way in her. She sits up straight and starts to ride me. She inhales sharply through her teeth.

I reach around and find her clit and touch it, press my fingers against it, then hold it in place.

I grab Lila's hips and hold them with my other hand. I am all the way inside her. I reach up and grab her tit. Now I am exploding in her again, grunting and moaning with ecstasy.

Just curious: Do I still have to give Lila a coffee break today? Maybe I should check with HR...

I pull out of her; she leans back against me, our faces side by side. She sighs. I kiss her. "I just wanna fall asleep in your arms," she says.

Luckily, I have paper towels in my office. There was, um, a LOT to clean up. But we did, and got dressed faster than I thought possible.

I keep thinking back to when I asked her why she says she loves me. Why did I need to know that? Why is it on my mind? Am I just curious? Or am I really falling for her?

Sexonomics 101

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Wednesday Redux

A few hours after I made my plans with Lila last Wednesday, Kelly called me.

"Hi, Steve." Her voice is quiet and sheepish.

"Hey." I am not keen on her these days.

"Can I see you for drinks later? I have to talk to you."

"Uh, yeah, how about 10:00 at Stooie's?"

"Ahhhhh. OK." She doesn't sound happy about the time. TFB!

Maybe this is my chance to get rid of Kelly. I like breaking up with girls in public places, so they are less likely to make a scene. They sometimes do, anyway. But I don't like doing it over the phone.

******************************

So, after downing about 1,000 calories worth of frosting with Lila early Wednesday evening, I lay down on the couch with Lila watching TV.

"Let me move in with you," she says.

Fuck. Here we go again.

"NO! Lila, we talked about this!"

"My mother is being SUCH a pain in the ass! I promise, we'll take it REEEEAL slow!"

"You can't take it slow when you are living together, Lila!"

"Please don't yell...please?" she asks, flickering her big eyes at me.

OK, girls using their womanly charms to keep me from getting mad? Ought to be a law, man.

"Look, I'm having a really good summer with you. Let's not mess that up, ok?"

She sighs. "OK...can we at least go away together?"

"I'm already working on something," I say.

I get home around 9:00 and change. I get to the bar at 10:15. Kelly is not there.

10:30. No Kelly. I am reminded of the Seinfeld episode where the girl is trying to call George so she can break up with him, and he won't take her call, so officially, they are still dating. If I won't do it over the phone, and she won't ever show up...how do I get rid of her?

Kelly walks in. "Sorry! Work stuff is driving me NUTS!" She kisses me.

We have a drink. "Steve, I've been thinking about this weekend," she says. "I just want to apologize. I feel like such a jerk."

"Why?"

"You were right. It was wrong to laugh at Taylor like that. It just...struck me as funny. But I was a bitch to you afterwards...and during, too. I treated you like you weren't even there."

"Don't worry about it."

"It's HARD for me to say that type of thing, Steve. I wish you would acknowledge that."

"Fine. I appreciate it, Kelly. It's forgotten. Can we drop it?"

"OK." She still doesn't look happy.

"Kelly, I..."

"I miss you," she says.

You know, it might be nice to have some breakup sex...

"Do you want to come over for a drink," I say. I am probably going to regret this.

So we get to my house, and we are simply ravenous. We're basically naked before the door closes. And I'm behind her, doggie-style, and everything seems to be TOTALLY normal. Maybe she is going to be ok, after all...

"Slap me." she says.

I slap her ass, half-heartedly.

"DO IT AGAIN!"

Jesus Christ! Was this chick a race horse in her prior life?

I rear back and smack her ass with all my strength. I hold nothing back. It is loud. Disturbingly loud.

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" she cries, putting her head down.

"DO IT AGAIN!"

You asked for it, bitch. SMACK!!!

"AAAAAAAH!"

I am fucking her like a jack-rabbit, hard and fast. I love the sound of the rhythmically-slapping flesh. I don't like it as rough as she does, but it is nice not to have to worry about doing it too hard. I can just plug away as aggressively as I want.

"Choke me."

WTF.

"CHOKE you? No, Kelly."

She takes my hand and puts it around her neck. "Not hard," she says.

Hmm. An interesting alternative to dumping her, he he he...

I pull my hand back and grab her hair. It is almost to her waist when I pull it straight.

"I don't think so," I say, yanking her hair. Her head snaps back. I can feel her pulling against me. She grunts audibly.

I abruptly pull out of her and go to my nightstand for my lube.

"What are you doing," she says.

"Shut up," I say.

I smear Astroglide all over her asshole. She grabs her ass cheeks and pulls them apart.

She is tight. Really tight. Maybe I am just too nice, but I don't force it like last time. It takes a long time to get it into her. I grab her long blonde hair again.

I am suddenly fascinated by her hair. Whenever I see her after work, she is wearing it in a bun or French braids. And when we are hanging out, it's usually in a ponytail. This is the first time I have really been able to appreciate how long it is.

I yank her hair back as I penetrate her. She is pulling back against me. "MMMMMMMM.." she says.

"Do you like that? Do you like getting fucked in the ass?"

"Mmmm, yeah..."

I am kind of liking this hair-pulling!

I pull out of her and yank my "jimmy" off. I pull her hair one more time, and her head snaps back. I blow my load all over her back.

I lay down next to her on the bed. "CHOKE you?" I ask. "You are a sick bitch, you know that?"

"I LIKE it when you're rough with me," she says.

"Get the fuck out," I say.

She kisses me and gets dressed.

"I have to be at work early tomorrow," she says. "I'll call you!"

I don't answer. But I also don't dump her.

The blog doppler effect

Since it took me the better part of a week to tell the story of July 4th weekend, I am only now able to talk about everything that happened last week.

I am reminded of the time I watched a military funeral on TV, and there was a 21-gun salute. The men raise their rifles, and fire; the guns recoil in their hands. A fraction of a second later, I hear the shots. I'm not a physicist, but I believe this is the Doppler effect.

The same type of thing happens when astronomers gaze up into the heavens and watch supernova's (stars exploding), but because the stars are so far away, it actually takes millions of years for the light to reach us. So they are watching something that looks like it's happening right now, but it actually happened 5 or 10 million years ago.

With that in mind, I am sure you guys won't mind if I continue to tell you stories that happened 5 or 6 days ago.....

Nothing like putting things in perspective, eh?

It's Wednesday morning, about 11:00. Lila's been working full-time with us for about a week. My BlackBerry goes off.

"I AM SO HORNY," it says.

I look out my office door. Lila is seated at her desk, facing forward (her back is to me).

I write back:

"NOONER?"

I look out my door. Her back is still to me.

Her response: "LUNCH MEETING"

Shit. I have a working lunch with Ross at 12:00. That will take two hours, easily.

"DAMN" I respond.

I look out my door. Lila is still facing forward. I can see her elbows jut busily out from the sides of her chair as she taps out her next message. I find it hot that we are messaging each other in secret this way, and that we aren't even so much as looking at one another.

"Mom has date 2nite can U be over @ 7"

I feel myself getting hard. I LOVE fucking Lila at her place. Especially in her mother's bed. Not because her mother is hot - I've never met her mother. It's just the danger of it...

"OK" I message back.

Lila and I have a procedure for when I go to her house. Bob Woodward and Deep Throat have nothing on us...

First, I drive to the 7-11 near Lila's house, then I message her that I am there. When the coast is clear, she messages me, and I walk over.

Lila's "house" is really a condo, and a small one at that, with only one door in or out. Sometimes, when her mother is pissed at her, she will lock the deadbolt and take Lila's keys, and I have to climb in and out Lila's bedroom window. Let me tell you, it's pretty demoralizing, knowing that I have made something of myself, that I am a successful executive in an insurance company, that I bought and renovated my own house, and yet, I somehow have been reduced to climbing in and out my high-school-aged girlfriend's budoir window...

So I pull into the 7-11 and shoot Lila a message: "HERE."

I wait, 3 minutes, 5 minutes, 10 minutes. Suddenly, I see her mother's car zoom by.

"OK SHE'S GONE HURRY HURRY!!!"

I feel pretty badly, because I could not take Lila to her prom, for obvious reasons, (her friends invited her to go stag with them but she declined), AND because I missed her graduation party (I was travelling on business). It would have seemed weird if I stayed at the party too long, anyway, I think...

At any rate, I know Lila was disappointed that I could not be there for all the various rites of passage she's had this year, and she's been really cool about not complaining about it. So, I brought her a little present (and I am planning some others...)

I pick up her present, which is in a brown paper shopping bag resting flat on its back, and head to her door.

I am about to knock when the door flings open. "STEEEEEEEEEVE!" she shreiks, looking like she is going to jump into my arms. Then she spies the bag.

She gives me a suspicious sidelong glance. "What's THAT?!"

"It's a little graduation present. I'm sorry I missed your party."

"Awwwwwww! You didn't have to get me anything!"

We enter the house and I rest the bag on the kitchen counter.

"We haven't been together for a long time," she says.

"I know."

"I miss you when I can't see you," she says.

"You see me every day at work."

"It's not the same! I have to be professional at work. I can't talk to you at work," she says, pouting. "....and my mom's being a TOTAL fucking bitch...."

"Lila, your mom is just concerned-"

"You ALWAYS take her side!!" she yells.

"I'm NOT taking her side! I'm on YOUR side, Lila! But you were doing COKE, for Christ's sake! That's serious shit! You know how many times I'VE done coke?"

She looks at me.

"NONE," I say. "I've never fucking touched it! I HATE when you do it. It really just-"

"What?"

"Nothing," I say.

"WHAT?"

"It scares me. I don't like you doing that shit. Pot, fine. Drinking, fine. Actually, not totally fine, but at least it's not coke."

She smiles. "You don't LIKE me doing coke," she says.

"Yeah..."

"It's just nice knowing that you give a shit..."

"Ya, I definitely give a shit," I say.

She walks over and stands in front of me, grabbing the waist of my jeans with both hands. I look down; she is in bare feet and wearing metallic blue toenail polish.

"You did blue?" I say.

"Your favorite color," she says.

Is this chick the bomb, or what?

"Be right back," I say, and head to the bathroom.

I am standing over the bowl, pissing, and the floor suddenly feels wet. I look down. There is a huge puddle spreading from under the washing machine, which is directly behind me.

"LILA!" I yell, flushing the toilet, then turning around and shutting off the washing machine.

She rushes in. "Yeah?"

"You've got a problem," I say, pointing to the puddle.

"SHIT! What are we gonna do?" She says.

I climb on top of the dryer (which is next to the washer), and look behind the machine. One of the hoses is just barely hanging on. The wire clamp looks intact, though.

"This looks pretty easy. Do you have a set of pliers," I say.

"What are pliers?"

"Shit. OK, hold on," I say. I run to my car and get a set of pliers from the emergency tool box in my trunk.

I move the washing machine forward about 18 inches, and climb behind it. I reseat the hose and use the pliers to clamp it securely into place. I use some towels to sop up the water. Then I climb out and move the machine back into place, and turn the machine back on.

"You are sooo handy," Lila says, throwing her arms around my neck. She kisses me.

The washing machine starts banging. THUMP - thump. THUMP - thump. THUMP - thump. Then it gets faster: THUMPthumpTHUMPthumpTHUMPthumpTHUMPthumpTHUMPthump
THUMPthump...the machine is rocking wildly from side to side.

I push Lila's butt against the undulating machine and squeeze our hips together. She keeps perfecly still, and lets the machine grind her hips into mine. She still has her arms around my neck, and her shirt is riding up. I can see her navel peeking out from underneath.

I reach up and stop the machine.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"When washing machines are rocking like that," I say, "it will last maybe 3 minutes before the cycle finishes, tops. So let's make the three minutes count!"

We pull our clothes off. I can still see the "S" she shaved in her "hair down there", but the rest of the hair is starting to grow back. I pick her up and sit her on the washing machine, and start to lick her. Flat tongue, broad strokes....

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMM," she says, writhing. Her head is right against the hard metal of the washer; that can't be comfortable.

I reach into the dryer, and there is a bath towel inside. I fold it up and put it underneath her head. Her ass is right over the gap between washer and dryer...nothing I can do about that one, really.

I can feel Lila getting really aroused - she is almost hot to the touch down there.

I jump up, and suddenly I am on top of her, laying across the washer and dryer. I look down. I am as hard as can be. The head of my cock is big, round and bulbous. I push my cock against her, then press it down with just one finger as I shove it into her waiting pussy.

"OHH!" she moans audibly. Now I am sliding fully in and out of her, feeling her heat, her wetness.

She grabs my head with both hands and runs her fingers through my hair. Now she is pulling my head to her, kissing me, filling my mouth with her wet, silky tongue.

I look down, watching my shaft glide in an out, wet and slippery.

I reach over and turn the machine back on. The machine starts out slowly, but soon it is bucking like a bull ride at a honkytonk bar. She presses her hips against mine, me still inside her, and lets the machine do the work. It feels awesome!

The orgasm takes me by surprise. By the time I feel it, it's too late to stop it, and I am pumping loads of hot goo into her.

I prop myself up on my elbows and look down at her. The machine is still rocking violently.

"We're crazy," she says, laughing.

She reaches between her legs and starts to finger herself, staring at me all the while. She furrows her brows just a bit, as if she were trying to remember a phone number.

I suppose this girl would really like to be eaten now, I think. But let me tell you: A post-creampie pussy sandwich is NOT on the Chez Steve menu!

Hey, wait! I have an idea. I take the towel from behind her head and unfold it, draping it over the side of the washer. "Sit here," I say.

"Now!? Why?"

"You'll see in a minute," I say. She sits on the towel.

I run into the kitchen and get the bag, then bring it back to the laundry room / bathroom.

"Are you ready for your present?"

"Yeah!"

I pull the box out. It's a graduation cake. Written on it, in frosting:

"Lila - Sorry I missed your graduation. I'll make it up to you! -Steve"

"You got all THAT written on the cake?!"

"Yeah!" I say. "That girl at the bakery was a major bitch about it, too!"

And she was! I had to pay extra for all the writing. And I had to buy a 1/2 sheet cake, which is enough for 25 people, because that's the only size that would accomodate all the writing.

"That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," she says. There are tears in her eyes.

"Lila, it's just a cake!"

"It's MORE than a cake! You are SOOOO sweet, baby! Thank you!!"

I take a finger and run it over the top of the cake, picking up a bit of frosting. I put it to her lips, and she licks it off. Then a bigger blob of frosting. She licks it, slower, running her tongue slowly up my finger.

I look down. Most of my load has dribbled out of her. I wipe her with the towel; she ought to be very clean now. But I still can't believe I'm doing this.

I pick up some frosting with two fingers and wipe it on her pussy, smearing it around good. I lick it slowly off her, moving my tongue in a circular motion.

"Oh, baby...." she says.

I reach behind me and get the biggest frosting glob yet, as big as a golf ball. I rub it slowly on her. I slowly lick the frosting off of her swollen clit and vulva, using only the tip of my tongue.

"Oh shit. Oh SHIIIIIIIIT," Lila says. She grabs my head, digging her nails into my scalp. She folds her legs behind my head and squeezes tightly.

The pain is immediate and blinding. My entire field of vision goes white for a moment, and I feel as if someone has whacked the back of my neck with a two-by-four.

Her tightened grip has forced my face tightly and squarely into her pussy. She is writhing and moaning in ecstasy.

"Owwww, yes, yes, yeeeeeeess, oh, baby...."

Finally, she relaxes her grip. "I just came," she says.

"No shit," I say. "Is that why you almost broke my neck just now?"

She looks stunned. "Oh my god, did I hurt you?"

"It's ok," I say. "I'm pretty sure the paralysis won't be permanent!"

She laughs.

But now, for the hard part: What to do with the rest of the cake!

"He Says, She Says" update

Well, there isn't much of an update, cause....we haven't exactly gotten any questions this week.

On Wednesday, I put a hit counter on this page, and I have been truly amazed at how many of you are faithfully keeping up with my sordid shenanigans. I am honored and humbled. Thank you!

So Ari and I have been talking a lot (and maybe flirting a little too)...and we had a lot of fun answering your questions last week. If you used our advice, please let us know how you did, and if there is anything you are curious about, please send in your question and we'll get right on it!

Pleeeease?

See you guys next week. I can guarantee you it will be an outstanding blog week, since there is a lot of stuff from THIS week that I haven't posted yet.....

Steve's first two-and-a-half-some, part III

I hate sleeping in the same bed with a girl. I can never GET to sleep, for one thing; I feel like, to let myself drift off into "sweet repose", as they say, I have to trust her completely, and I never do.

But for some reason, I have now slept in the same bed with Kelly twice, and I have no trouble at all falling asleep. True love? Nah, it probably means she is the worst possible person I could be with...."only trouble is interesting," as my English professor used to say....

After screwing, Kelly and I talked for a while. Pretty awkward, isn't it, how I am slapping her ass (leaving welts) and calling her a "bitch" one minute, then laying down next to her and whispering in hushed tones the next?

I wake up several hours later with the sensation that someone is on the bed. The covers are being pulled. I roll over and open my eyes.

Kelly and Taylor are making out on the edge of the bed.

Ho-leee shit.

I am reminded of the scene in "American Pie" in which Jason Biggs sees Shannon Elizabeth pleasuring herself on his bed. He stands outside his door for a long moment, trying to figure out exactly what to say, and even practices saying it. ("Looks like you could use an extra hand!") Yeah, if I say the wrong thing, I could totally fuck this up.

But I ain't no Jason Biggs.

"Hey, can you girls move over," I say, finally. "I can't see out the window".

"TOLD you he was gonna wake up," Kelly said, without turning around. Taylor giggles.

"You BETTER not fucking tell Rob," Taylor says, smiling.

"He won't," Kelly says.

"Every deal has its price," I say.

"I wouldn't mind watching you fuck him again," Taylor says, staring at Kelly. "But I know you guys just did it, so..."

AGAIN?! What does she mean, AGAIN? Was she watching us the first time?!

Kelly puts her hand inside the leg of my boxers. "TOTALLY fucking hard," she says, still not looking at me. "He would fuck me all night long if I let him."

"And I'll prove it, too," I say, sitting up and kissing her neck. Kelly brushes me away with her hand.

She pulls my boxers down and guides me with her hand so that my legs are hanging over the side of the bed. Then she climbs on top of me and starts to ride me, facing Taylor, her back to me.

Taylor helps Kelly off with her night shirt, then starts fondling her tits. Kelly grabs Taylor's head and mashes their lips together.

"Fuuuuck," Kelly says, closing her eyes and leaning her head back. It looks a lot like the move Lila does. I watch intently as her ass bobs rhythmically up and down on my shaft.

Taylor is still wearing a bikini top; Kelly pulls it up in the front and rubs her tongue over her right nipple. Her tongue is broad and flat; her touch is exquisite, gentle and tender. Yeah, she's done this before.

I wonder if she's bi? Or gay? Maybe she is a lesbian, and she's just using me to replace her vibrator.

Taylor takes two fingers and inserts them slowly into Kelly's mouth. Then she pulls them out and fingers Kelly's clit while she rides me.

MAN. I cannot fucking take it. My cock is so hard, it feels like it is going to explode.
Suddenly, I am about to come.

I grab Kelly's thighs and push up, so she will stop riding me. I squeeze my abs with all my might. This is gonna be close.

"What?" says Taylor.

"He's trying to keep from coming," says Kelly.

The orgasm passes. I release her, and she starts riding me, even harder than before. Taylor and Kelly are sucking face big time. I can see their toungues mingling, can hear their smacking and slurping. The orgasm again. SHIT-

"My god I am gonna fucking come," I manage.

"Do you want him to come in your face," Kelly says.

Taylor doesn't answer. She looks at Kelly like a frightened puppy.

"It's ok," Kelly says, as if speaking to a child. "Do it!" She pushes down on Taylor's shoulder; Taylor kneels in front of me. Kelly jumps off me and starts to rub me with her hand.

I blow my load. It's a direct hit, all over Taylor's face. I shoot again; it goes in Taylor's mouth. She gags audibly. She gags again.

Fuck. She's gonna puke; I can hear it. She runs to the bathroom.

Kelly and I sit there, quietly, as we listen to Taylor cough and gag.

Then Kelly starts laughing. Fucking LAUGHING!

I'm beginning to think this chick is insane.

7:30 the next morning. We're all sitting around, eating pancakes. Rob walks in, looking sick. "Steve, I need to speak to you for a second."

Ah, fuck.

"Sure, Rob." By any chance, is this about how I blew a load in your girl's face?

He leads me outside to the deck. If he knows about what happened, there's a good chance he's going to hit me.

"Is Kelly gay?"

"WHAT?!"

"IS KELLY GAY!" he says, in a stage whisper.

"Fuck, Rob! Of course not! She's with me, right?!?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Taylor is gay."

"You mean BI."

"WHATEVER. She likes chicks. Sometimes she lets me watch, so I put up with it. But I saw the way she was looking at Kelly, and the way Kelly was looking at her....you better keep your eye on Kelly."

You know, some people really piss me off. Especially people who get whip-dick during strip poker games.

"Hey Rob. If I need help with chicks, you'll be the first one I'll call. OK?"

"Steve, listen. Taylor was gone for a while last night. I woke up; she wasn't there."

OH SHIT. Looks like we almost got caught. THAT would have been a scene!

"You woke up? Did you look for her?" I ask.

"I was in NO condition. But I'm sure she disappeared."

"Disappeared? I'll call Mulder and Scully."

"I'm SERIOUS, Steve. Just talk to Kelly, ok? I SWEAR there is something going on between those two."

Those two? No. Those two and ME? YES!

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Rob, yeah!"

What a fucking moron. Then again, he did figure out most of what was happening. Minus the facial, of course.

We fly kites on the beach for awhile, then leave for home. I load up the car and go to get Kelly. She is talking to Taylor, with Rob looking on intently.

"They want to hang out with us again," says Kelly. "I took Taylor's number."

"Oh yeah, cool!" I say. I look at Taylor. She seems ok, now.

Rob hugs me. "Let's do this again soon, Stevie Wonder. I don't wanna wait a year before I see you again."

"OK, man."

On the way home, I really let Kelly have it.

"Kelly, you should be ashamed of yourself. A fucking FACIAL? Come on!"

"What? I'M not the one who blew the load in her mouth! That was YOU!"

"Yeah, Kelly. You had nothing to do with it."

"She's fine! She wants to see us again!"

"You sure?"

"YES!"

"Kelly, she was GAGGING! She obviously didn't want to do that."

"So why did you do it?"

"I wasn't exactly in a position for critical analysis," I say.

"Me neither," she says.

"You weren't about to blow a load," I say.

She sighs sarcastically. "ALLLL Kelly's fault. Always Kelly's fault."

"You were LAUGHING," I shout. "You fucking LAUGHED at her while she was gagging!"

"It sounded FUNNY!"

I know I am to blame for a good bit of what happened. I saw that Taylor was a little apprehensive, and I did it anyway. I am just as responsible for this as Kelly. But I just keep going back in my mind to that image of Kelly giggling while Taylor puked.

"Shit. You know what?" I say. "You're just fucking INSANE. You're not right in the head!"

"And you know what you are?" she says, smiling broadly, flickering her blue eyes.

"Hmm?"

"Bitter! You're ANGRY that you can't dominate me. You can't CONTROL me. And you HATE it!!"

"Yeah, Kelly. I'm the one with the problem here."

I'm beginning to wonder if Kelly is worth the trouble.

Steve's first two-and-a-half-some, part II

It's 11:30. The guys are in the kitchen, drinking and playing poker. The girls are in the living room, drinking and.....talking, I guess.

About an hour passes, and Jim, Pete, and Phil head off to bed. Now, it's just Rob and me. If I am going to get my ration of shit for telling that dick-in-hand story, it's going to happen now.

"You ever think about gettin' married, Stevie?"

"To you? Nah, you fool around too much," I say.

"I fucked around a lot. A REAL lot. I'm tired. I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' about my life lately, and I think I'm ready to settle down," he says.

"Taylor seems nice."

"Kelly too. So how long've you guys been together?"

"Not long. A month. You?"

"About 8 months. That's a record for me."

"Wow!"

The door opens. It's Kelly and Taylor.

"We've come to a decision," Kelly says.

"What's that?" I ask.

"We wanna play strip poker," Kelly says.

DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING!!!!

Rob, who was almost asleep, sits bolt upright, like a Beefeater, his eyes open cartoonishly wide. We look at each other, in utter disbelief.

Sure, there had been strip poker games at the cabin before, but not for years. That was more of a college thing, at least for us.

We decide on the following rules:

1. Everyone removes one article of clothing per hand, except the player who wins the hand;
2. None of that "flashing" bullshit: If you take something off, it stays off;
3. A pair of shoes or socks count as ONE article of clothing.

Translation: We are gonna have some NAKED bodies in here, and fast.

Kelly turns out to be a good player, and she wins the first two hands. Rob and I are sitting there shirtless and shoeless; Taylor has removed her shoes (dark red toenail polish) and her shirt, and is in a bikini top and white cotton shorts. Her tits are bigger than I thought. She is at least a B - and they look really firm; no trace of a sag anywhwere.

I win the third hand. Kelly kicks her shoes off. Rob pulls down his shorts and is in just a pair of boxers. "UH-OHHHHHH!" Kelly says. Rob is in danger of being naked very soon.

Taylor stands up and slides her shorts down. She is wearing a tiny little bikini bottom. Her bikini lines are completely smooth. She's definitely had a Brazilian wax...

Kelly looks at her, looks away, then looks back again. Hmmm...

Rob wins the next hand. Kelly stands up and slowly unties her halter top. She removes it and drops it to the floor. Kelly is not huge-chested but she actually has some cleavage going on. Can't WAIT to do her tonight...

But right now, it's time for Taylor to pay the piper. She reaches behind her back to unhook her bikini top; Kelly says, "I'll get it," and with a POP, it falls to the floor.

Yeah, Taylor's boobs are really nice. Firm and tan. Her nipples are fully erect. It's not that cold in here; this girl is turned ON. Could this be orgy territory?

"Ok, let's go, let's go," Rob says. I am staring a little too much, I guess.

My turn. I stand up and lower my shorts to the floor.

"We got a tent-pitcher!!" Rob says.

I look down. I am at full attention.

I'm reminded of the Eddie Murphy standup routine, in which he talks about being in the 8th grade and getting a hard-on in class. The teacher says, "Mr. Murphy, would you like to come up and work this math problem out on the board?" and Eddie says, "No, thank you. I'll take the zero!"

But remember, it's the 10%-90% rule. How will I deal with it?

"Looks like you're in trouble, Kelly!" Taylor says, looking at my erection.

"You're BOTH in trouble," I say. Rob glares.

"Yeah, I'm horny as hell," I say. "Can anyone direct me to the parking lot?!"

The girls crack up. The moment has passed; I sit down.

I win another hand. This is it...

Taylor stands up, puts her thumbs under the sides of her bikini bottom, and pulls down. She is almost totally shaved, but I can see what appears to be a thin landing strip. She turns around, playfully; her ass is round and perfect, nice and tight-looking. She's got a tattoo in the small of her back; it's a symbol I've never seen before.

"Wu-huuu! Kelly says! The first naked of the day!" They slap high fives.

Kelly stands up and pulls her shorts down. She's wearing a pink thong bikini bottom.

Rob stands up, and unceremoniously pulls his boxers down. I glance over. He is limp as a noodle. Come ON, man! Suddenly Rob looks like he doesn't want to play anymore.

We play another hand. I win again. Kelly stands up, and turns her back to Taylor. Taylor unhooks her, and with a shimmy, Kelly's bikini top falls to the floor.

I have described Kelly's breasts as oranges. That's just what they look like: Almost perfectly round. Her stomach is flat and muscular enough that you can see her ribs. Her nipples are hard too....and she keeps looking over at Taylor. Taylor is looking at her, too: Short, furtive glances. Are they hot for each other?

I look over at Rob. His head keeps drooping down. He is fading fast.

Rob wins the next hand, seemingly in his sleep. Kelly stands up and kind of sticks her ass out a little bit as she pulls her bottoms down. It's a move that strippers make on stage.

Kelly has shaved: She's now got "peach fuzz" where she had a full bush before. She turns a bit to the side, and the roundness of her ass, her nakedness, drives me insane.

I stand up and drop my boxers. I am totally fucking hard. I like the idea that the girls are looking at me.

"We are OUTTA here," Kelly says, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to the bedroom. As I turn around, Taylor is straddling Rob, right there at the table.

Strip poker is cool: When you are totally naked, there is no disrobing to worry about when you wanna get down to business. Kelly falls to the bed and pulls me on top of her. Her eyes are fixed on me. "Are you gonna fuck me good? Are you gonna fucking pound me?" she is saying, through gritted teeth.

"Oh yeah."

She pulls her knees back. I enter her. She is hot and slippery inside, like melted wax. I pull back, not all the way out, but close. I slam our hips together. BANG. Then again, BANG.

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG....

I lower my hips down, just a bit. I am entering her at an upward angle now. Supposedly there is an "A spot" up there; sometimes girls seem to like it this way.

"Oh SHIT! Right there!" she is saying. "Holy fucking shit!!" She starts grinding against me, urgently. So I do what any good guy would do when his girl is getting off: I pull out!

I roll her over so she is on all fours. I penetrate her from behind, grabbing her taut thighs and slamming away at her. She is pushing back against me each time I enter her.

"That's it," I say. "Fuck back."

I slap her on the ass. Hard. I leave a hand print. "Do you fucking like that?"

"YEAH!! Oh, fuck yeah!"

I slap her harder. "Do you fucking LIKE that? BITCH!?"

"YESSS!!!!"

"Do you want me to come all over your fucking face?"

"MMMMMMM, yeah!"

"TELL me!"

"Please come in my face. PLEASE come in my face!"

I pull my cock out of her and she flips over. I kneel over her and blast her right between the eyes. And on the nose. And in her mouth (she swallows). I am vaguely aware that she is rubbing me as I come.

"FUCK yeah," she sighs. "You are soooo fucking good. Shit!"

I think I am starting to understand Kelly sexually. I think she likes to be humiliated...we will see....

...to be concluded...

"He says, she says" for the week of July 5, 2004

Here it is, guys....our first installment of "He says, she says"! Enjoy!

Keep those questions coming (see the link on the sidebar to your right)...

If we didn't get to your question this week, look for it next week.....

======================================================
Giving guys the "green light"

Question - as a lady who is interested in revisiting her "inner woman" do
you have any tips as to how to let a man know you are interested while in a
public setting? I have not dated for a LONG time but I do not have any
real sexual hangups. (that is the hard part for me - once I get over the
"meeting" hurdle I am usually good to go)

======================================================
STEVE'S REPLY:

As the woman, I believe you have the upper hand in these situations. Right or wrong, most men plan on being the "aggressor" who approaches you. And they will do so, not really knowing if you will like them or not. Use this to your advantage! Make him do most of the talking early on, until you feel comfortable.

If a guy does not seem to notice you, there are a few things you can do short of introducing yourself. Make "incidental" eye contact and give him a little smile. Brush up against him on the way by and say, "excuse me!" [bat, bat go the eyelashes], and see if he takes the bait.

Another good tactic is to ask someone else who is there if they know who he is. JUST if they know him, not that "ooooooooh, he's cute!!" Of course, if they say, "do you like him?" then you could say, "Well, yes, he is attractive!" as if you hadn't thought about it before.

You could always introduce yourself, but to me, this should be a last resort. By all means, do it if you have to - and feel good about it!

When a guy is speaking to you, make sure you are a good listener (unless you are bored as hell and want to get outta there). Make lots of eye contact. Nod periodically, and throw little comments in here and there: "Oh, yeah, NOW I get it", "You're KIDDING!", "Oh, I didn't know that!", etc. etc.

And as you mentioned, this should be an easy thing: If you are truly compatible, the conversation should flow very easily after the initial awkwardness. Good luck! Let us know how you do!
======================================================
ARI'S REPLY:

OK... you say you want to make it clear to a man that you are interested while in public. I have a few questions for you:

Is this while you are on a date with a man? Or, are we talking random guy, random guy sort of thing? Additionally, how comfortable are you being forward? And most importantly; are you looking to get laid or have a boyfriend?

The latter question is the more prevalent one as I am a firm believer that these are very different goals and ought to be approached as such.

If you are reserved and looking to make your wants clear to a random guy, then I agree with Steve entirely. Eye contact, accidental bumping into, running your finger over your collar bringing his eyes down a bit - all good.

Guys like a challenge but they also like to know that the challenge, if met, can yeild successful rewards. If you come on too hard and seem to easy, you'll be the girl that doesn't get his attention until 2am, when the crowd has thinned drastically. If you just want to get laid, then who cares, be forward, go for it. Be unabashed.

If you want this to be "something" well then... date a woman, men are too difficult. If you're dead set on having a man, a challenge is what you must be, but a charming one. Smile, when you are talking to him, be engaging and involved in the conversation without talking his ear off. No man cares about the girl in your office that drives you crazy or how marked down your Manolos were. Don't be clingy, don't ask him where he has been while not calling you and the such. You're no doubt a very social and active person, such a person is far too busy in their own right to notice the absence of a guy.

I hope this was helpful.
======================================================
"Skirting" the issue

Would wearing a kilt get one laid? The questions about what one is wearing under it would seem to be an advantage.
======================================================
STEVE'S REPLY:

If you were in Scotland, maybe. Or at a Halloween party. Other than that, I am not particularly fond of costumes, or gimmicks.

======================================================
ARI'S REPLY:

Will wearing a kilt get you laid? I dunno, would wearing cleats and a football helmet get you to fuck me? I didn't think so...

For the record, it's best to be naked {or in the girl's case, wearing heels} when getting laid.

======================================================
Eating disorder

I slept with this guy last week. I am clean, and I taste good, I know, I tasted myself on him. But why wouldn't he go down on me. He has had PLENTY of experience, so I doubt its that. I went down on him a LOT. Can't a guy just return the favor?
======================================================
ARI'S REPLY:

Maybe he already had fish for dinner. lol...
======================================================
STEVE'S REPLY:

Some guys have a problem in that area. Sometimes they don't like the smell, or the taste, or the idea that "bathroom things" go on down there. They might feel that way even if you don't. Have other guys done this for you? Because believe me, not every guy is interested in doing this, no matter who the girl is. And let's face it: It doesn't taste like caviar!

Some guys have an "intimacy issue" about it: in otherwords, they won't do "that" with someone they just met, even if they are already screwing her. What can I say? We are weird.

I would suggest that, the next time you two are having a mellow (non-sexual) moment alone, such as after a nice dinner, you just casually say, "You know what would be really nice? If you went down on me sometime." Your goal is to start the conversation and find out what his problem with this is, but in a very non-threatening, non-angry way.

If his problem is the "grossness" factor, you can do several things:

1. Offer to shave down there (TOTALLY shave);
2. Offer to take a shower together first so you will be extra-fresh;
3. Make a "dental dam" by taking a condom and cutting it to the center, then opening it up (make sure your scissors are sharp). When you do this, you will have a latex sheet that he can place over your vagina while he "eats" you. You can use flavored and/or textured condoms, if you like.

I DON'T recommend spraying perfume or anything like that down there. Ever get perfume in your mouth? YUCK!

If this is just an intimacy issue, you may have to be patient for a while while he gets comfortable with you...
======================================================
"Idle" worship

Can I just start off by saying that you are my new hero... In my countless efforts to get more than one pussy I fail miserably as they all seem to find out about each other and all leave (bar the ugly ones). How exatly do you get so many girls/women to fuck you? please share your secrets...

p.s. what is your record of # of girls in one day/night (24 hours)? and does it beat my record of 5?
======================================================
STEVE'S REPLY:

I've been with two girls in a 24-hour period, a couple of times. In fact, I may have done it once with Lila and Kelly since I started this blog. The only way I can see you doing five in a day is if you were on one of those porn cruises, or on a ranch. With a lot of sheep.

My secrets are no secrets. Be sociable. Be outgoing. Take an interest in what the girl has to say. Bring up your own experiences that relate to what she is saying.

You will notice that I'm very careful to avoid girls that know each other, and to avoid situations where one might see me with the other. Check out my blog: I turned down a perfectly hot girl who was interested in me (Julie) because she works in the same office as me and Lila.
======================================================

Steve's first two-and-a-half-some, part I

I've been looking forward to Independence Day for quite some time.

Each year, my college friend, Rob, hosts a July 4th party at his cabin on the beach for all the guys and their girlfriends. The crowds have gotten smaller and smaller as the guys have married off; only 5 were expected this year.

I had been hoping all along that I could bring Lila; I figured that she could tell her mother that she was going to visit her dad for a couple of days. Her parents are barely on speaking terms, so her mother probably would not call her father to verify the story. And the cottage is over an hour away, so there is no chance anyone from my "work life" would see me and Lila together.

But, alas, Lila is in lockdown, and her mother would not be amenable to any trips, even to her dad's house. So, time for Plan B!

Kelly (the "new and improved Kelly") was thrilled to go. So I picked her up at around 7:30.

I took one look at her and my stomach dropped, as if I had just gone over an unexpected dip.

Her hair was in a ponytail. She was wearing a white halter top, with the big ties in the front, like Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island. She had faded blue denim shorts, and those open-back sneakers that I love. And her sunglasses hung in between the cups of a pink bikini top. She just looked really fun and sexy. And ready for the beach.

She hops into the car, and immediately, off come her shoes. She puts her feet on the dash. Pink toenail polish. The scrunchie in her hair is pink, too. What is it with this girl and pink? I bet her favorite Aerosmith song is........."Walk This Way". He he he...

"I'm SO looking forward to this," Kelly says. "What a week I had!"

We talk all the way there. Kelly grew up not far from the beach and she really loves the water. I love it, too: It really relaxes me.

We arrive at the cottage. Rob is outside waiting for us.

"Stevie Wonderrrrrr!!" he shouts. His nickname for me.

Rob is just as bad with the girls as I am. And he's been doing it longer. I've known him ever since my sophomore year in college, and I don't think I've ever seen him with the same girl twice.

And Rob's a bragger, too. He's always got some crazy story about how he banged this one while her sister watched, or how that one snorted coke off his dick. Half his stories sound like bullshit, but every once in a while I speak to a girl who's been with him, and he seems to be on the level. Normally, I just dismiss guys who tell stories like that as liars. Real players keep their stories to themselves (or publish them anonymously in blogs, he-he).

He's a good-looking guy, as guys go: six feet tall, about 180, tan, muscular, dark hair. Rob's always been in good shape, unlike me.

Back at school, Rob used to try to help me with the girls. He'd walk up to me at a party, throw his arm around my neck, and say, "Stevie Wonder, THAT chick over there is gonna fuck you tonight!"

So I'd turn around, and there'd be some girl with an ass the size of two kegs, or some hideously ugly chick.

"No fucking thanks," I'd say.

"Better than whacking," I'd hear, as I walked away. Not sure about that.

I ALWAYS pursued the hottest girls. I got humiliated a lot, but that provided a lot of motivation for me to better myself. NEVER did I settle for nasty chicks, just to get laid.

So Rob rushes up to the car and practically tackles me as I get out. "You made it, buddy!!"

Kelly gets out.

Rob drops me like a hot potato and walks slowly over to her. "And who! is! this!" he says, staring at her.

"Rob, this is Kelly; Kelly, this is Rob," I say.

"Nice to meet you, Rob," she says.

"Wow, Steve. WOW!" Rob says. "She's even hotter than the one you had last week!"

What an asshole.

"That's funny Rob. But since you've been telling that joke since 1995, you might want to work on some new material."

Notice, I don't get all flustered and panicky, trying to make sure everyone knows it was just a joke. That just makes you look guilty.

A girl walks out the front door and stops next to Rob. "This is my girlfriend, Taylor," Rob says.

Taylor is hot. She's tall, about 5'10", short auburn hair (think Bridget Fonda), and really skinny. My guess is that she's no more than an A cup. But she has really nice legs, like a figure skater.

"Let me help you take your stuff to your room," Rob says. "Then you gotta come outside. The bonfire's already started!"

"We actually get a room this time," I say.

"Crowd's not as big as it used to be, Stevie," Rob says.

The bonfire is amazing. It's a giant metal can filled with wood, cardboard, and just about anything else the guys could get their hands on. Flames lick 15-20 feet up into the clear black sky.

All five guys are here now, three of us with girlfriends (Rob, me, and our friend Jim), and we're all sitting around the bonfire.

I am sitting on a log, with my legs spread apart, and Kelly is sitting in between them, holding my right hand over her chest. The fire is crackling and popping. I can smell the sea air as it blows in briskly from the ocean. It smells nice mixing with the flowery scent of Kelly's hair. She leans back to me, as if to say something. I lean over.

"I'm having a really good time. Thank you for inviting me," she says, rubbing my hand.

Yeah, no problem. Being second choice is not so bad, is it?

Rob is "holding court", telling college stories, and everyone is laughing. I still owe him for sticking me out before.

"Hey Rob," I say. "Tell 'em about that time the cop caught you with your dick in your hand!"

Everyone laughs. Rob freezes.

That's right, asshole. You fuck with the best, you die like the rest.

"We were at this party," I begin. "And Rob was hitting on this girl all night, and she wanted NOTHING to do with him. It might have been because she was his sister, but I'm not positive...."

Raucous, drunken laughter.

"..and after hitting on her for hours, Rob needs to take a piss, but there's ten people in line for the bathroom. So he heads outside, and finds a secluded spot near the parking lot. And he whips it out, and starts pissing. And pissing, and pissing, and pissing....."

More laughter.

"And, all of a sudden, he hears this redneck voice: 'HEY! YEW! WITH YER DICK IN YER HAND! GET OVER HERE RAGHT NOW!!!' So Rob turns around, and it's a STATE COP!"

Everyone is cracking up now (I'm sure it would have been less funny sober).

"Meanwhile, the girl is just overjoyed that Rob finally left her alone for 10 seconds, so she's making a beeline to get the hell outta there. So she runs up to her car, which, coincidentally, is parked RIGHT NEXT TO WHERE ROB IS PISSING!!"

They are howling now. They have a sense that a payoff is coming. Rob is chuckling a little, but he's embarrassed as hell.

"Rob sees the girl, and the cop, and starts rushing to tuck his junk back into his pants. And the girl is screaming, 'YOU FUCKING PERVERT! YOU WERE JERKING OFF ON MY CAR!!'"

"OH FUCKING SHIT!!!!" Jim says, convulsing with laughter and spitting beer everywhere. Kelly is doubled over, laughing.

"So the cop goes ballistic," I continue, "and throws Rob into the back of his car. And it takes Rob an hour to talk his way out of it. So, everyone, what is the moral of the story?" I ask.

People start shouting answers.

"Get in the bathroom line before you have to go?" someone says.

"Don't hit on your sister?"

"Whack off in private?"

"Only piss in the woods?"

"NO!" I say. "If there's a chance you're gonna strike out, wear Depends!"

Everyone laughs and cheers.

"You know, I've never heard that story before," Taylor says, looking at Rob.

"I don't tell it every year," I say. "Only when the time is right."

...to be continued...

Kelly's gambit

10:00am, Wednesday. Phone. Kelly.

"Stee-evve!"

"Hey, Kel."

"Didja miss me?" she asks.

"Ummmmmm. Is this is a trick question?"

"Ha ha ha. OK. Well I missed YOU!"

"Thanks!"

"Are you free tonight?" she says.

"Maybe...."

"Don't play hard to get with me! I am taking you for seafood tonight. And I'm NOT taking no for an answer."

"oooooo! Aggressive!"

"And you love it too, don't you?" she says.

"Ummm, yes?"

"Smart ass."

"You're treating, right?" I say.

"Yes."

"OK, how about Annabelle's?" It's the most expensive seafood place in town. Probably the most expensive in the whole state. It's the home of the $85 lobster special.

She pauses. "Done! I'll pick you up at 7:30."

She's at my house at exactly 7:25. She brings some flowers to the door.

"OK, why does it feel like you're here to take out my teenage daughter?" I say.

"Har-de-har-har."

"Let's go," I say, after putting the flowers in water.

Annabelle's is a GREAT place to eat. Everything is delicious. The guy who owns it had a near-death experience: He was some bookkeeper who was hit by a car, and suddenly found himself separated from his body, travelling down a tunnel, and headed toward a bright light. Then, his dead grandmother, ANNABELLE, told him to turn around and go back, because he was supposed to open a restaurant and become a millionaire. And that's just what he did, even though he had absolutely NO experience in the area.

No offense, but if you're somebody's dead grandmother, and you have control over such things, why go the seafood restaurant route? Why not let him find a cure for cancer, or discover cold fusion, or invent an orgasm patch (for recovering sex addicts)? I mean, restaurants are cool and all, but shouldn't people in the Great Beyond aim a little higher?

Ahem.

I order the lobster. I've been salivating about it all day. And let me tell you, it is pure heaven. Kelly gets the scallops. We drink a couple of glasses of wine and actually start to have a really nice time.

She raises her glass.

"What are we drinking to?" I ask.

"No more fighting," she says.

"No more fighting." We clink our glasses.

"Steve, I have to be honest with you."

"Hm?"

"It's been a while since I've felt this way about someone. I don't....I really....sometimes I don't think I'm ready."

"OK..."

"But I know that you can't plan when you are going to meet someone, and I know that you are.....you're just...." she is shaking her head from side to side, searching for words.

"Really cool?" I say.

She scoffs. "Shut up." She smiles, a big, sweet, happy smile.

"You're smart, you're funny, you're ambitious, you're successful, you're good-looking...there aren't too many guys like you out there. And I...."

"What?" It's not like her to be fumbling for words like this. WTF?

"I'm scared to death I'm gonna lose you."

"LOSE me?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up. I'm scared I already have!"

"How?" Can't wait to hear this!

"By being too pushy. By being a total bitch. By being too aggressive in the bedroom."

"Or the foyer staircase," I add. He he he....

"Hahahahahhhaha! You get the point," she says.

"Kelly, I really appreciate you saying that." At this point, I am blown away. I'm speechless. Almost.

"You know," I continue, "if aggressive is what you really are, then you can't hide that. If it's going to work out between two people, it better be with their REAL selves, not who they're pretending to be."

"But that doesn't mean I should hit you with it all at once."

"Kelly. I'm a big boy. If I had a problem with you, I'd say it."

"Do you?"

DO I?

"I like the competition. To a point. I just feel like both of us are so headstrong that neither one will ever give in enough to have a real relationship."

"So you've thought about it."

"Of course I have, Kelly! You're pretty great too. You're amazing!" Ok, didn't I just say that to someone else recently?

She blushes.

"Can I ask you a question?" I say.

"What?"

"Were you really on your way to pay your phone bill that day you met me?"

She looks down at her plate. "I go that way every morning. Same time, every day. And I used to see you, getting out of your car...."

"Same spot, every day," I say.

"And you back your car in, every day. And I couldn't see your face, but...I noticed your WALK."

"My WALK?"

"It's very purposeful. And FAST. You can tell a lot about someone by their walk. And something told me that you could be someone really special."

Ahhhhh, you see?! I was RIGHT!

"So you pulled over and came up with some excuse to talk to me."

She smiles. "Mmm-hmm!"

"So basically, you're a stalker," I say, smiling.

"Hmm, let's see: Who asked who out that day?" she says, rolling her eyes skyward.

"Yeah, you got me."

"So anyway, Steve, would you please forgive me, and have a little patience with me? Because I really, really like you." She is gazing at me coquettishly.

Man, she's laying this whole trip on me, and it's not even dessert time yet!

I am truly moved by her. I'm touched! "Kelly, of COURSE I'll be patient with you. I'm not the best at this either."

We go back to my house, and walk around the block together. We stop at the pond. I am thinking about putting a park bench there, even though it's not my property...

"When was the first time you kissed a girl," she asked.

"Last Tuesday," I say.

"Steve!!"

"I was 20."

"20?!"

"Yeah. I was a fat kid, terrible with the girls. So friggin terrible. I joined the gym, and stopped eating junk, and dropped all kindsa weight. I met a girl named Maryann at the gym....she was older than me, 25.

It was...humiliating, in a way. She told me what to do, how to kiss her. I had no idea. I was like a 14-year-old kid. But she taught me."

"Did you sleep with her?"

I nod. "Right after my 21st birthday."

"And?"

"It was ok. I was scared. I came too fast, and...."

OK, why am I getting all worked up here?

Kelly can tell. She looks concerned.

"Hey. It HAPPENS," she says.

"I know." Shit, I'm almost in tears now.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm almost positive that Maryann chick couldn't handle you now. You're too much for me!"

"Huh?"

"Oh, come ON, Steve! That shower thing? I didn't shit for 3 days! I was too scared it was going to hurt!"

I burst out laughing. She does too.

"And that time on the stairs? Shit!" She rolls her eyes. "I'm still bruised!" She rolls up her shirt and shows me a black and blue patch the size of a pancake on her lower back.

"Holy SHIT! Are you ok?"

"Hardwood stairs'll do that to ya," she says. "But it was fun."

I take her hand. "I've got just the thing for that bruise," I say.

So we go back to the house and hit the hot tub. Naked. I get out the champagne from my trip (never did use it).

"Hey," I say. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For talking to me. I know that wasn't easy for you."

She kisses me. It's a slow, passionate kiss. Like her mouth is melting into mine.

I move in front of her and kind of push her against the back of the tub. She opens her legs to me, as an invitation. She closes her eyes and bites her lower lip. She is more submissive, now. She is giving in. She's TRUSTING me. And it's turning me on.

I don't normally like sex underwater, but this is really good. She pulls my head closer to her and coos in my ear: "Just like that, baby....oooooo, just like that...you are gooood, you are soooo good."

So who is the real Kelly here? The one who wants to be pounded mercilessly, or the one who wants to be "made love" to?

As soon as I find out, I'll let you know.

Lila's proposal - WTF is it with all these proposals, anyway??

Monday morning, 6:00 on the dot. My home phone rings. Lila.

"Baby!!!!"

"hmmmmmm." I'm not totally awake.

"I need to talk to you." She sounds serious.

Can't just ignore it when a girl talks to you in that tone of voice. Gotta let her know I noticed.

"What's wrong?"

She sighs. "I have a.....proposition for you."

"I'm listening!"

"No, it has to do with work. Can I come in a half-hour early today and talk to you?"

"Sure, Lila."

"See you at 1:30."

Hmm. Wonder what this girl is up to. I wonder if she's angling for a promotion. I doubt it: She just GOT one!

1:30 rolls around. Lila is in my office door, right on time. She comes in and closes the door. Gossipmongers are milling around outside, trying to get scoopage. They don't think I see them, evidently. Idiots.

Lila is a vision today. She is wearing a skin-tight black minidress. There is no trace of an underwear line, anywhere. That means she's probably going commando. Yow!!

"Steve, I have a proposition for you."

Yeah, yeah, whatever. A proposition. I could care LESS about a proposition. I'm thinking about pulling your dress off like a banana peel.

"What's that, Lila?"

"Judith and Thea work for you, right? They do purchasing. You are their boss."

"Yeah....."

"And they work ALL the way on the other side of the building, in risk management....."

"Because there is no room here on this side."

"Right! And you are always saying how you wish you could put them on THIS side, because all their files are here......"

"...and everytime they need something, they have to trek all the way across the building. Yeah. What about it?"

"What if I came up with a way to bring them over here?"

What is this girl cooking up, anyway???

"I'm listening," I say.

"Why don't we put them in the file room?" She says.

"Lila. That room is too small. And there are 60 boxes of files in there, piled all over the place!"

"It's big enough for two cubicles with dividers. I measured."

Wow! Impressive!

"OK, fair enough. But the boxes...." I begin.

"I'll come in every Saturday and go through the boxes. I'll take all the papers out of the files, pull out the staples, and scan them on our copying machine. Then we can store them on CD's and throw the paper files away, and move Judy and Thea's cubicles to that room!"

Holy shit. Holy SHIT! It's PERFECT!! But it would cost me a buttload of overtime for her to do this on weekends. I'm thinking a couple grand, off the top of my head.

I don't like employees working a lot of weekends. People need to know they can go home on a Friday and not think about work until Monday. Same thing with working late hours.

"That's a long project," I say.

"Here's the plan," she says. She pulls out an Excel spreadsheet. An EXCEL SPREADSHEET, for God's sake! She's made all sorts of calculations about how long the job will take and how much it will cost.

According to her calculations, it's going to take 90 hours to do the job. That estimate is far too low. And she's calculating her pay at $11 per hour, which is her regular hourly rate. Once she goes full-time (July 1), any weekend hours will be time and a half, which is $16.50.

"OK, Lila," I say. "This is a good idea. But we have to correct a few things." I tell her about the overtime and the time estimate.

"Pulling staples out of papers is fairly quick," I say. "But you're going to miss a few, and when you do, there are going to be paper jams when you try to scan the pages. It will take time to clear those. And the scanner really only handles 50 pages at a time. That's not a problem, but you're going to be spending a lot of time renaming files. And I noticed that you haven't budgeted any time for auditing your results."

"Huh?" She looks a little shell-shocked.

"You're proposing scanning these pages and then destroying the paper copies. This is done all the time. But before you destroy them, isn't it worth a double-check to make sure you didn't miss anything?"

"Yeah."

"So you'll have to budget time for that. You'll also have to put a few hours in there for unexpected problems that will come up. You aren't going to scan 125,000 pages without a problem or two."

She's starting to look depressed.

"We'll also have to assume that we are going to wear out a couple of rollers on the copying machine," I say, "but that should be covered under warranty. Can you call the copier guys and make sure?"

"OK."

We amend all her figures based on the revised estimates. The job comes out to $3,000. Fuck. NFW does Ross approve that.

Lila stares down at the floor, frowning. She doesn't say a word.

"Lila?"

"Just never mind," she says. "I worked so HARD on this! And now it's just crap. The whole thing is just a big failure." She looks like she's about to cry.

"Lila. Listen," I say. "I still like this idea. But we can't do it for 3 grand. It's too much of an expense just to move some employees down the hall."

"So we can't do it then!"

"LISTEN!"

She looks at me, wide-eyed.

"Every deal has its price!" I say, almost shouting. "Every.deal.has.its.price." I am emphasizing every syllable. "Now, let's think about what the price is for this deal. How much would Ross go for?"

She shrugs. "Fifteen hundred?"

"No. Think about when you buy a computer at the store. It's a thousand dollars. But they don't charge you a THOUSAND. They charge you $999.99. Why?"

"Because when you look at the price tag......"

"....It looks lower than a thousand, even though it basically is the same!"

"So, what, we should go for $999?"

"Nah, make it $900. He would accept that."

"But we can't DO it for $900. Look at the estimate!"

"That's assuming you do it all as overtime. What if you did the staple-pulling and auditing during work hours? Thursdays and Fridays are dead around here. Heck, we might even be able to get Judy and Thea to help you. And we are already paying you for normal work hours, so there's no additional cost. You can come in and scan on Saturdays, when less people are around the copier."

We check the numbers again. Now It's $960.

"Dammit!" Lila says. "So close!"

"Close enough," I say. "Now, we quote Ross $900, and he approves it, and we hope that we finish under budget."

"But what if we don't?"

"If we don't, the project will be most of the way done by the time we find out. By that time, we'll have to finish it, because we will have invested too much time to stop. Besides, if we are only a few dollars over, I can approve the overtime. I don't even need Ross's signature."

She is smiling. She smoothes her long hair behind her ear. It's shiny. And I can smell it....green apples. She's wearing those giant hoop earrings that I love.

"Steve?"

"Huh?"

"So can we do it?"

"There's just one other thing," I say.

"What?"

"Think about it. You know Brad, from risk management? He benefits from this, too. He gets more space for HIS department!"

"So you want him to pay half?"

"MORE than half! MY employee is doing all the work!! Better for it to come out of his budget than mine!"

"Of course!" Lila says.

"Now, I'm going to have to run this by Brad," I say. "And I'll speak to Ross about it tomorrow. If he approves, we're going to have to submit this to accounting on special forms. I'll show you how to fill them out."

"OK!!"

"Hey," I say.

"mmm?"

"Why are you proposing this, anyway? What do you care about where those two employees work?"

"I need the extra money."

"Why? Is everything ok?"

"Everything is fine, Steve!"

"If it wasn't, would you tell me?"

"YES. I promise. Baby."

"You know what?" I say.

She smirks and puckers her lips at me. "What."

"I LIKE scheming with you."

"Me too."

She walks around to my side of the desk. At one time, I was very firm about us not doing anything in the office. But.....

She licks her big, pouty lips. She kisses me, slowly. Our lips separate. There is a long bridge of spit between us. Why am I strangely turned on?

Now, guys, I am sure you want to know what happened next, later that night. But you already know!

A Steve exclusive! Your dating / sex questions answered! This is "He Says, She Says"!

I have a PIC (Partner In Crime).... my new friend, Ari from "Ari Goes down". http://ariagoesdown.blogspot.com
With a name like that, I couldn't help but like her, but she is very cool.....and she and I have cooked up a little scheme. Check it out!

Send me your dating (or sex) questions at this address. Then, watch this blog...Ari and I will do our best to answer them, from both a guy's AND a girl's perspective.

Keep in mind, this is for entertainment purposes only. In otherwords, if you get sued, arrested, dumped, or suffer from any form of bad Karma, don't blame us ;-).....

Vicky's indecent proposal

As soon as I got to the hotel on Sunday, I called Victoria. She was still a half hour away, but said she'd be there as soon as she could.

I've known Vicky for about 2 years. She's been dating the same guy, Mike, that whole time. He seems nice enough: He's a dentist, and he travels a lot doing continuing education classes and student seminars. But Vicky seems melancholy and depressed most of the time. When she gets tipsy, she tends to go off about him, saying that he's never around, and that she is bored.

Late last year, he asked her to marry him and she accepted. She called me crying to tell me about it. I don't think they were tears of joy. So why the fuck is she marrying him??

The first time I hooked up with Vicky was Valentine's Day, last year. Vicky is a sales rep for one of our vendors, and we were working on our forecast for the upcoming several months, and negotiating prices. Take a picture of this....

We are sitting in my office, at the corner of my desk. She is wearing open-toed shoes. She has these really sinewy, strong-looking feet. Does that sound silly?

She's got an amazing tan. And deep red lipstick. She smells like....coconuts. Some kind of body wash, I am guessing. She's making me crave Pina Coladas.

Her legs are crossed, and her foot keeps brushing against me. "Sorry," she'll say, and smile. Sorry my ass!!

We finish around 7:00. I have a date with someone else, but I have a feeling about Vicky, so I surreptitiously call my date and cancel. We go to dinner, and talk all night long about movies, plays, TV, and so on.

I drive her back to her hotel and she invites me to have a drink with her at the bar. It's 10:30.

We drink for hours and talk the night away. She is starting to stare at me "that way".

WTF! Let me go for the hard close. Why not?

"Let's go upstairs," I say.

She grabs her purse and doesn't say a word.

It wasn't good the first time. I was drunk and tired. Yeah, I finished the job, but there was no sense of urgency. So now I had a point to make.

The next time she came out, I made sure I was ready. I brought her to my place and made her dinner (Fetuccine Alfredo - it sucked) and then fucked her three times straight. She went to the bathroom after the third time and said, "You made me BLEED!!"

Uh, thanks, honey.

So we've been off and on ever since. Every once in a while, we are in the same town, and we always hook up when we are.

Vicky pulls up in her car and greets me with a big smile. "Hey lover!" she says. She always calls me that. Accurate, I guess.

"I have something for you," she says.

"What's that?"

"Let's go inside!"

So we enter the room, and she pulls out a plastic bag. There is a box of frozen popsicles inside.

HUH? What are these for?

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, now I see.....

"It's been a loooooong time," she says. "TOO long." She kisses me. Her lips taste sweet, like she's been eating candy. Her tongue slides out and rubs mine, smooth and silky.

She sits on the bed and leans back. I pull her skirt up. NO underwear. How unsanitary! ;-). I start to lick her.

There is a right way and a wrong way to do this, guys. Your tongue has to be broad and flat. Imagine you are licking an ice cream cone. Or painting a fence. Whenever I watch porn movies the guys are always shooting their tongues out, lizard-like. That doesn't work for me. I might stick my tongue inside every once in a while to see how she's doing in the wetness department, but otherwise, slow and steady wins the race. I don't get fancy at all, and I always get rave reviews. If you're doing it right, you don't have to ask...

So she is moaning and groaning, and I stick my tongue inside her, and she is wet and gooey in there...she is ready, if she's ever going to be...

I reach for a popsicle and tear it open. Grape...I lick it just a bit. Then I slip it inside her. She recoils. "Unghhhhhhh!" she says.

She starts to grind her hips forward and back. She's FUCKING the popsicle! I pull it out. ALL the way out. Then back in. It's melting like crazy. I start licking her again. There is slimy grape juice everywhere. It's not bad, but let's just say it wouldn't make a very good Life Saver flavor. "Grape Vagina" just doesn't have a nice ring to it.

"Do you want me?" I say. Let's see if I can tease this girl a little.

"FUCK me right now. Oh my god. PLEASE fuck me!" she says. It looks like she is going to come, whether I stick it in or not. I toss the popsicle aside, and I'm fumbling around with my condom, and finally get it on, and no sooner do I penetrate....

"OH GOOOOOOOOOD!!!" she says. "Oh God you are SOOO good!"

Um, thanks, but I've been inside you for like, 10 seconds, tops...

I can still feel the coldness of the popsicle. I like it! I look down and she is dribbling and oozing everywhere. Yeah, part of it is the popsicle, but Vicky "gushes" sometimes, when she is really horny. I look at her, and there are tears in her eyes. Reminds me of when I watched "Field of Dreams"!

So I start pumping away at her, figuring she's going to tell me to stop any time now. It is so incredibly wet and slippery inside her now; it's like fucking an oil slick. I look down and watch it sliding in and out of her and I am totally gone. I explode with orgasm. I can feel all the stress leaving my body...it's the way you feel after a strenuous workout.

We lay there on the bed afterwards, me on my back, she propped up on her elbow, twirling my hair with her finger. Her brown eyes are gorgeous. She really is a pretty girl.

"Let's do something crazy," she says.

"We just did."

"No, something we've never done before."

"Such as?"

"Take another week off and come to Catalina with me."

"CATALINA??"

"Yeah, it's an island..."

"I know, I know. Vicky, it's way too crazy."

There is NO fucking way I am going away with this girl for a week. I wouldn't go away with ANY girl for that long. Well, maybe Lila, but just maybe. And certainly no one else...it just feels too....domesticated for me. It gives me the creeps. Yuck!

"It IS crazy. That's why we have to do it!" She says.

"No. Go with your fiance."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh yeah, Mr. I'm-too-tired-to-fuck," she says. "That'll be fun."

She is pissed. She starts getting dressed. "I think we need to figure out just what we're doing here," she says.

Oh, shit. Here we go.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm getting married in November."

"And??"

"Are we gonna keep this going, are we gonna stop, what?"

"I didn't have a problem with things the way they were!"

"Well, me neither!"

"So, what's the problem?"

Shit, I'm still naked. There is something demoralizing about arguing with no clothes on. I start pulling on my boxers.

"Nothing," she says. But she's still pissed, I can tell.

Vicky is a little high-maintenance anyway. If this is the end of the road for us, so be it...

But I liked that popsicle thing......