Michaels Visit

To my readers…

A few years ago, I happened to be in Montreal on business. I had the extreme good fortune to make the acquaintance of a beautiful, thirty-something professional woman. What started as an email friendship soon became a highly erotic attraction and the next time business took me back, we consummated our relationship. The time after that, I bought an apartment there. Not long after that, my old friend (and Laurie's lover) Michael received a commission that moved him to Montreal as well.

If there is interest, I will publish some of our exploits…

God, it's been so hot lately…if it wasn't for you, there would be no reason to be in Montreal, baking all day in our little

pied-a-terre

while you are at work. I waste the afternoon, getting high and watching an old movie while I wait. Michael calls sometime in the middle of the afternoon and tells me he wants to talk to you about the last time he saw you. I ask him if he was going to apologize for anything and he laughed in reply. "No," he says, "I just want to talk to her about the clamps and the little

fly-

swatter. We really didn't say much the other night." So I kind of invite him to drop over later in the evening.

Five o'clock comes and goes – the movie is over so I mix a pitcher of frozen margaritas for you and put it in the refrigerator. I smoke another skinny and hop into the shower to rinse off all the accumulated sweat and to get all clean and fresh for you. While I'm under the hot spray, shaving myself smooth for your pleasure, I hear your voice from the other side of the curtain.

"Oh God, Steven," your deep, throaty voice immediately sends chills through my flesh and blood surging to my cock, "I swear…there is

nothing

better than a frozen margarita after work."

I pull the curtain back and see you standing there, all pink and flushed from the brutal heat and the frozen drink in your hand, completely naked and totally gorgeous. Baby, I can't tell you what your new body does to me…but I think you can see! You stand there, brazenly

on display

and the way you take a drag off your cigarette and drop your gaze to my stiff, fat cock makes my knees shake, my love. You are so totally awesome, as proud and pleased with yourself now as I have always been.

I get it together enough to answer you. "Well," I tease back, "join me in here and I can show you a few things that are better than a drink, Ter."

Reluctantly, it seems, you put the drink down (after a nice long sip) and toss your smoke into the toilet before stepping into the over-sized stall. As soon as the water hits your steaming flesh you are in my arms. It doesn't matter if it's been two hours, two days or two weeks since I've been with you – that first kiss is memorable each time. Your full lips press into mine, so sexy and firm! And then the taste of the liquor and the cigarette on your tongue…so dirty, so decadent and oh so erotic. My arms fly around you and you feel different…definitely noticeably slimmer but really just more

toned and firm

. You feel so good when I hold you close, chere. My slick, soapy hands find your firm, round breasts sitting perfectly on your chest, my fingers closing around your deep pink nipples and massaging them erect until you start squirming from their sensitivity. You move my hands away and they wind up on your shoulders – you recognize the gentle downward push and you drop your hand to my upward-rising curved prick, all freshly shaved and cleaned for you.

"

Baise moi, ma petite

," I whisper in your ear as you lower yourself slowly to your knees in front of me. You giggle at my bad accent, but it doesn't stop you from taking my hard organ between your lips and into the sucking warmth of your mouth. Once, twice, three times your head bobs up and down, finally capturing all six inches – your lips resting against the skin around my shaft and your fingertips playing gently with my balls.

Your tongue is driving me crazy, licking circles around me and playing with the sensitive ridge surrounding the swollen head. I've anticipated this for a long time and the reality is even better than my fantasies. Leaning into the shower spray, my hands braced against the wall in back of you, I start to rise up on my toes and then settle back down, driving my hard, hot cock into the golden opening of your throat. I repeat this over and over as you stop gagging and get used to your throat being invaded. When you are finally relaxed enough, letting my length slip in and out of you at will, I feel your fingers grab my balls and start to press in the same rhythm that I use to fuck your face. When you circle one soapy fingertip around the outside of my ass, I lose control…throw my head back and scream that I am starting to cum.

I feel the hot, thick crème start rushing upwards through my cock and out the hole at the tip, surprised to feel myself still within the tight circle of your soft, pillowy lips. I look down and see a sexy gleam in your eyes as you look back up. One gush – a single rope escapes my hard spike before you take me in hand, pull me out of your mouth and then, with the spray of the shower beating down over us, you hold my throbbing prick in front of your face, taking stream after stream of my hot, white cum across your cheeks and lips and around your throat until I am completely spent, totally drained in response to your best blowjob ever.

You stand, knees a little shaky – as are mine – and I pull you into my arms again. The gleam is still in your eye as you slowly open your mouth, showing me the single pool of crème sitting on your tongue. You move closer against me, tilting your face for the kiss I know you are dying to give me. I surprise you a little by initiating the deep kiss, opening my lips for you and clearing the way for your tongue to meet mine. And when it does, we moan together as the hot spray rinses the rest of the soap and the cum off of us, leaving us clean and clinging together as the hot water starts to turn cool.

"I didn't believe you," you tell me, trying not to giggle as the water cools, "I didn't think you would really do it.

Boule de neige?

Snowball?" Then you can't help but laugh. "But it's

hot…

not cold, my love."

The cold water forces us out of the shower where I grab a huge white fluffy towel and start to dry your pink, flushed skin. Again, I am blown away by the subtle changes to your body. I can't help myself as my lips follow where the towel has dried you. I work downward, covering your shoulders and then your breasts with hundreds of tiny kisses, stopping to suck your nipples the way you like…softly with just a tiny lick. Then over your flat, firm tummy until I reach the start of your sex, your heated core. I push you back gently until the back of your thighs touch the top of the toilet seat-cover. I lay a towel across the hard, flat surface and sit you down softly, prying your legs apart and pulling you slightly forward.

The firm, tanned flesh of your thighs is so seductive, chere. Kneeling between your outstretched legs, I trail kisses and licks up one side and then down the other, occasionally stopping at a particularly delicious spot to take a small bite of your succulent new shape. Through all of this your moans have been a constant music to the rhythm of my lips and tongue. But I can't tease either of us any longer. I take your feet in my hands and place them on my shoulders – I can lean in unobstructed now and taste you, my hands and fingers holding your pussy open so my tongue can go deep.

The pure joy that comes with the taste of your sex is almost indescribable. A fresh, tangy citrus, light as the taste of fresh coconut water, refreshes my tongue and moves my soul. I can't get enough, my tongue lapping at your wet slit like a kitten licking fresh cream from a bowl. As I find a rhythm drawing circles around the dusky pink hood that covers your clit, your breathing gets faster and shallower. I suck the little mound of soft flesh between my lips, beating a soft tattoo across the top with the tip of my tongue.

Your hips start rocking back and forth, moving the towel across the hard, smooth porcelain seat-cover; your feet dig in to my shoulders as you try to stay in control but you're fighting a losing battle. The fingers of my right hand are holding your beautiful, precious cunt open from the top, giving my tongue access to every square millimeter of your sex. The forefinger of my left hand is sliding inside the tiny hole of your sex, alternating between a rhythmic massage of your G-spot and softly uncovering your clit as finger and tongue work together for your pleasure. Finally, between the steam of the shower and the cold margarita and the tapping from inside you against the top of your pussy walls and my lips drawing your throbbing clit back and forth, you explode in one of your rare but delightful

squirting

cums, your groans reverberating against the bathroom walls.

After you regain your composure, I persuade you to let me finish drying you off and getting you something to wear – we will be staying in on this dreadfully hot evening and there is no reason to be anything but extremely comfortable. I pick out a bone-colored tank top – spaghetti straps holding up a thin jersey bodice – and a pair of low-slung baggy shorts made of the same soft jersey material. The light color looks so sexy against the tanned and flushed coloring of your skin and even though you don't normally like your breasts and nipples

on display

, the soft jersey clings so nicely, it's so hot…and we are home alone.

I leave you to finish your routine and get dressed myself in loose shorts and a T-shirt before I prepare the crusty bread to go with the

Salade Niçoise

I had assembled earlier, trying to keep your new shape and diet in mind. When you return to the kitchen for a cold refill from the pitcher of margaritas in the refrigerator, I am blinded by your beauty and your total appeal. The contrast between the light ivory color of the soft, clingy jersey and the dusky rose of your moist flesh is about the sexiest thing I have ever seen; the highlighted contour of your breasts and darker pink of your nipples only makes the image of you as

Sex Goddess

more complete.

Dinner is easy and delicious – the salad is a perfect repast in this oppressive heat and the bread, fresh from my favorite patisserie, is always a treat. It takes us a long time to eat, talking and laughing about things we have done since we last saw each other. Funny, though, the one thing you leave out is any reference to Michael and the night the three of us shared a few weeks back.

Still, we have a good time, casually mixing drinks, food, cigarettes and a couple joints until you are slightly drunk and I am very high. After doing our best to clean up, I make another pitcher of margaritas and bring it along with two fresh glasses into the lounge. I pour one for you and add an iced tonic and lime for myself before lighting a joint from the ashtray on the end table right before relaxing into the corner of the plush leather couch. When you join me in the lounge, I have a cigarette lit for you and soft samba rhythms are playing in the background. Leaning back against the corner pillows, my left leg is bent down with my foot on the floor while my right leg is stretched along the couch where the seat cushions meet the back. I smile and invite you to sit with me so we can continue our conversation.

You take the cigarette and the drink and sit down between my legs, your head resting against my chest and your back leaning into my stomach. The clean smell of your skin from the shower rises off of you – it makes me drunk with desire for you. I take a hit of the joint and while I hold in the smoke, I stroke the tender flesh of the inside of your thighs, drawing my fingertips softly upwards until they disappear under the hem of your baggy gym shorts. "Mmmm," I acknowledge your lack of panties with appreciation, 'very nice, chere." You moan back as one finger slips in to your tiny pussy hole to start a quick massage. My free hand works free of your shorts and finds your perfect tit under the soft, clingy jersey halter top.

Kissing the side of your neck, I casually mention that Michael had called – I had emailed earlier and told him I would be in town. Immediately, I feel some tension in your neck and shoulders. "Relax, chere," I say to you softly. "He said he wanted to talk to you about the other night…the things he did…the things he made." Carrying on, unaware of what had happened in my absence, I continue. "I think he feels badly – he got a little carried away at the end…I don't think he really meant to, well…you know, treat you exactly that way, love." As I spoke, I felt your nipple get hard and long in my fingers and your pussy was getting wetter second by second.

You turned around and kissed me as hard and as deep and as sexily as I've ever been kissed. It seemed like an eternity passed before you pulled your lips back from mine and I didn't want it to end even then. You turned back again, facing away from me. You took my left hand and slid it under your halter, back on the firm, moist flesh of your breast. Then you slid my right hand back under the hem of your shorts until my fingertips were playing in your wet slit.

Softly, from a faraway place, I hear your voice. "I know, my love."

"What?" Not sure I heard correctly.

It must have been so hard for you, chere - to take this chance…to gamble on how well you know me. "Steven, I've…uhm…I mean we…errr…" You stop and gather yourself, remembering how you had thought this all through before. "What I mean to say is…" your voice is quietly confident, almost self-possessed, "I've spoken to Michael since then." You press your hands on top of mine. "Actually, I met him…here…one night last week."

My heart stopped cold. The only sensation I could feel was a void where my stomach had been. "Did he call you?" the first thing out of my mouth surprised us both.

"No, my love…" You turned your head and just the expression on your face – the glare of lust in your eyes – was enough to start the blood flowing to my cock. "I called him." You kiss me and our mouths sizzle when we touch tongues. "I really like him, Steven." Your eyes burn through mine, searching for something and finding it. "I told him I wanted to see him again. To talk, you know?" Your fingers found the base of my stiffening root and grabbed hard around it. "Wow, it seems this is really turning you on, Mr. S.!" You start a dirty giggle as you squeeze my sac between your fingers. "Is it true…what he said? That he made you a cuckold? That you liked it?"

Just as I started to answer, the doorbell rang and we both heard the door open and close and then the footsteps getting closer. You jumped up, quickly straightening your outfit by running your hands over your breasts, pinching your nipples, and then settling the shorts as low on your hips as they could possibly be. You are sex personified.

Michael walks into the lounge, his expression frozen in desire as he sees you in the halter and shorts. You walk directly into his arms and lean your breasts into his thin, muscular torso as you tilt your head towards his for a kiss.

I see it immediately – just as you want me to. The swagger in your hips when you got up off the couch and glided over to him. The flirty shake of your long, lustrous hair just before he wraps his powerful arms around you. And finally, the way the tip of your tongue sneaks out to moisten your welcoming lips as you expect his kiss.

I can't take my eyes away from the two of you – it is clear that you have more than recovered from any trauma from the last time the three of us were together, chere. You fit into his embrace so effortlessly and my friend holds you in a comfortable, familiar way as your lips meet. I need only to see your kiss to know that you have told me the truth – you have been together…without me. Once again, I realize, my childhood friend and oldest companion has taken the pussy I thought to be mine.

As if proving the point, he turns you around, displaying his hands over your soft, form-fitting tank top, kneading your hot, firm breasts as he smiles in greeting, finally, to me.

"How hard is your cock right now?" he asks me with a knowing little grin. I can't say anything – it's hard enough to show, straining against the front of my shorts. He 'stage whispers' in your ear, "What did I tell you, Ter? He must have some deep feelings for you, babe." He smiles and shakes his head at me. His right hand slides off your swelling tit and very slowly down the front of your loose shorts – I don't know who he is torturing more, you or me.

You turn your face back to him and give him a lingering kiss as his hand and fingers move across the smooth mound under your shorts. Without his hand covering your top, I witness your excitement as your thick, dark pink nipple grows under the soft jersey. "Why do you say that?" you ask him breathlessly.

He turns your face back around to me; your eyes are lust-filled glaring slits and your hand covers his as he starts fingering your cunt just three feet from my rock-hard cock. "He and I have fucked the same girls, then women, since we were 15 years old," he says, still pumping his finger slowly in and out of your steaming box. "Only one other woman made him so hard when

I

kissed her…and he

married

her." His hand started moving faster and your reactions were getting much stronger, moaning in time to the thrusting of your hips. And then, as if your arousal meant nothing to him, he took his hand out of your shorts and off your breast. He gave you a short kiss, and

told you

to get him some ice water.

And even before a small protest could come out of your mouth, he reached behind you and

SMACK!!!

His open hand landed flat against the perfect curve of your lower ass cheek…not hard, but done properly so it

sounded

hard and it startled you. "Go," he motioned with his long, artist's fingers towards the kitchen, "I'm thirsty, Ter." You looked at him – he was watching me the whole time. You looked at me – my cock was pushing a hole through the cloth and my eyes kept shifting between his knowing smile and your expanding nipples. I think I heard a groan coming from you as you turned away to fetch his drink. "Jesus fuckin Christ, man," you hear his obscene chuckle as you get a glass to fill with ice, "she turns you on as much as your wife, doesn't she?" I know you can't hear my answer, but he sees me nod in agreement. "You want the

full treatment

, don't you?" Again, all you can hear is the question and the dirty little laugh that accompanies it. But again, he sees the nod of my head.

By the time you come back with his drink, Michael has stripped off his T-shirt and his jeans. He is resting comfortably on the couch, exactly where

I

was before he came through the front door. This was not lost on you, my love. You look gorgeous but confused. We can see you stopped to freshen your makeup and slip into your high-heel backless sandals. The shape of your legs where your trim, toned thighs slide up into your shorts is devastatingly hot. At that moment, I want nothing more than to cum all over your legs and splash the last few ropes across your shaved pussy. Truth be told, I know you put them on for him…he's

always

liked his women in high heels. More truth? That you did it

for him

makes my cock even harder and longer.