Jack and I were sitting in the park where we'd first met.
"So, when did you first know you wanted me to fuck you?"
"Geez, I don't know," I replied. I damn well knew, but hesitated telling him.
"You know. Any woman knows it the moment she wants a guy inside her. C'mon, when was it?"
"Jack, I'm telling you, I don't remember!"
"Well let me tell you, Donna, it was the first time you laid eyes on me."
"Don't be so sure, Jack..."
"Shut up! You just told me you didn't recall when you knew and here you are telling me I'm wrong about it. You can't have it both ways."
"I ... I remember now. It was a Sunday morning. I was up early and out jogging. It was cool, probably early June, maybe four or five weeks ago. I jogged to Houston and 14th Streets and felt so good I continued up to about 24th street. I stopped by this park. I love this park."
"I have this thing about bras. In fact, I hate them and almost never wear them; but do when jogging. I don't flop too badly but the bra didn't fit properly and the constant bouncing had rubbed my nipples raw. The park was empty and I sat on a bench almost enjoying myself; almost, except for the scrapes on my nipples that were both distracting and kind of painful.
"And that's where I came along."
"Yeah ... you caught me looking down my top at my ninnies. I guess you paused in your jogging to flirt with me."
"I did. I was surprised when you were so candid about your sore nipples."
"But you offered a solution quickly enough."
"That was easy. I needed to get you out of the public view. So I looked around, saw the entrance to that Telephone building across the street. I knew it was mostly equipment and not much in the way of personnel, and suggested going there."
"And I was dumb enough to go with you."
"Tell me you regret going there with me."
"No, I never regretted it., Jack, never."
"And, half hidden in the entrance to the building you exposed those lovely tits and put something on them. Whatever was it?"
"Lip balm. I had some in my little purse."
"From there it was just a hop, skip and a jump to my apartment on Gramercy Drive."
"Yes ... that quick and I was in your apartment.
"You wanted me inside you the moment you first saw me stop next to you on the bench. Didn't you?"
"Yes, I saw a slight bulge under your running shorts; and with the mixture of pain and pleasure tingling my ninnies immediately grew hot and horny. My husband was already off to his golf game and I knew I'd be alone until later than afternoon. And there you were."
"God's gift to horny women everywhere," he said with a hearty laugh.
"You wish," she said laughing along with him. We both knew it was a shallow laugh on my part, for he had induced me without much difficulty into having sex with other men and women on several occasions.
"So tell me Donna, what kind of lover am I?"
"Do you really need me to stroke your ego, Jack?"
"I asked you a question, Donna."
I knew enough to keep my eyes down as I answered him. He had a decided mean streak in him. There were times when I did my best to bring it out, but I sensed this wasn't one of those times and that I might regret playing games with him.
"You are a magnificent lover, Jack." I meant every word. "I need lots and lots of foreplay before I'm aroused and can accept a man inside me. You take as long as I need, every time. I appreciate that. No, I love you for that, Jack. I truly do."
"So I get you moaning for a boning?"
"Yeah, you do, Jack."
"You recall our first time, Donna?"
"Of course I do. My nips were sore from the material rubbing against them while I ran. We wound up in your place and you broke out the oil ... baby oil, wasn't it?'
"It was, Johnson's, I think."
"After massaging the oil into my tits for ages, you moved on."
"Well, you had other areas to explore."
"Indeed, and one of them was my pussy. As I recall, we lay head to foot and you put on a rubber, just in case, you said. I thought it might be a good idea to warm the baby oil and then started rubbing it over your hardon. You did the same to me ... my pussy, that is, I didn't have a hard on."
"You did! Your clit, remember? You'd never seen it as engorged as it got that afternoon.
"Oh ... you're right!"
"We went on for hours."
"We did! I remember you came several times. The rubber was filled with your stuff."
"Eventually you drank it, remember?"
"Yuk! Yeah, I did, didn't I? Was I always a slut?"
"All women are sluttish at heart. At least that's been how I found them."
I raised my eyebrows and he laughed at me. "In all fairness I had four fingers shoved up your snatch and you had already come several times. And so when I asked you to empty the rubber, you never hesitated. You took it off me and very slowly let the cum drip down your throat."
"Had you ever swallowed a load before that?"
"I don't ... well maybe ... this guy in high school didn't pull out when he was supposed to, but I spit most of it out the window."
"Spit it out the window? Where the fuck were the two of you?"
"In the backseat of his Ford, silly!"
"Oh, I should have known, it being high school and all. So you're saying you swallowed some of it?"
"I guess I did. I didn't mean too, but shit happens, right?"
"It sure as hell does, Donna."
"I ever tell you I used the oil on my husband?"
"No, how'd that work out?"
"He went crazy! Didn't I mention it to you? He insists on it at least once a week."
"So you two fuck at least once a week, huh?"
"Usually two or three times, Jack. I have too. He's a horny bastard."
"He ever, um, oil a finger and put it up your ass?"
"Why are you asking me that?"
"I'm interested in your love life, baby. Now answer me."
"Yes, he has."
"And then he fucks you up the keister, huh?"
"No Jack. No one has got me there."
"So you're an anal virgin, huh?"
I didn't answer him. The conversation waned a little after that until some guys came jogging up the path toward us.
"Give these guys coming up a treat. Lift one leg up on the bench like you're stretching or fighting a cramp."
"Do it! I want them to get a gander at your snatch."
"I'm wearing panties, jack," I protested.
"So what? Think they care? Give 'em a good look, Donna."
I did as I was told. The first guy stumbled and almost hurt himself. The second guy stopped, pretended to help the one who fell, but really took a good look up my skirt.
He kidded the fallen guy as he helped him up while Jack and I sat on the bench watching them.
"You gotta watch where you're going Nelson," he said. Nelson didn't reply, but winced in pain as he tested his leg, which had a nasty cut on the kneecap. But they moved on and were soon out of sight.
"No underwear from now on, Donna. Got it?"
"But why, Jack?"
"Because I said so, that's why?"
"Okay, Jack, no more panties," I replied, already worrying about how I would explain it to my husband if he decided to jump my bones when I returned from one of my daily jogging sessions.
And so began our daily ritual. Even the days I went to work at my parttime job at the art gallery it was sans panties.
I gradually overcame my initial fear and soon found myself climbing the gallery stairs without a thought of who might be looking up my dress or skirt from the landing below, knowing my pussy was complexly visible to them if they looked my way.
I'm not an unattractive woman. Many men and women did look. Several even propositioned me. I told them I was a happily married woman, which I am.
"You want this, don't you?" Jack said caustically.
I swallowed. "Yes. Yes, I want it."
"Good. Look to your left."
I did and saw a trio of older teenage boys, filled to the brim with hormones and confidence. They saw me almost immediately, and leered at me openly as they approached.
"Show them," Jack said.
"Show them," he repeated with just a hint of steel in his voice.
Blushing furiously, I took the hem of my skirt between forefingers and thumbs, and slowly lifted it. The boys gasped and cursed as my pussy came into view then they were laughing as my pubic hair, shaped expertly into the shape of a loveheart, was revealed to their young eyes.
"Good girl," Jack murmured urbanely, and his words were like a drug, making my blood sizzle. Tiny electrical charges of pure pleasure crackled over my skin; every sense was heightened, registering every subtle movement of air on my body. I inhaled the scent of my sex, and as though from a distance heard my panting, rasping breath.
"Touch yourself for them!"
I heard him, but couldn't believe he'd ask me to do it.
"Do it, Donna!"
And with no hesitation I complied, sending my candypink fingernails across my glistening cunt and then two slick fingers inside while my eyes rested on the biggest of the boys who must have been eighteen or nineteen, mouths agog, vibrant teenage cocks tenting their baggy jeans.
"Jesus Christ!" The biggest one gasped as my finger stirred my honey pot – making a suc, suc, suc sound.
.... There is more of this story ...