I had died and gone to Heaven. No, that's not right, I must have been dreaming. But no, I was wide awake in my own room — I recognized it — but it seemed like Heaven right here on Earth. And then I knew. I felt Linda's soft mouth wrapped around Peter The Great, awakening both of us and transporting us to Heaven.

My Ebony Angel's fingers caressed the second and third jewels of my three-piece set, the feathery non-threatening touch that she had perfected long before she came into my store — and into my life. Her dark naked skin rested between my legs, her dark hair hiding my groin as she strove to please me. As if I had to see what she was doing in order to luxuriate in her oral love-making!

My hand reached out to tell her that I had awoken, to caress her hair and her face, to rub her back, to insinuate under her to hold her firm tits without pressing them. She lifted her head off of Peter The Great and looked up at me.

"Good morning, Bernie."

"Good morning, Linda."

"Tell me again, Bernie," she asked. "Tell me again what you said last night."

"Why should I, baby? Didn't you believe me?" I taunted. Then, without waiting for any reply from her, I said it again.

"I love you, Linda."

She smiled and soundlessly moved her lips. I could read her saying, 'I love you too, Bernie.' Then she lowered her head again onto Peter The Great and puckered her cheeks anew.

The words weren't new; we had exchanged them weeks earlier. Linda had spent the night in my apartment, something she did several times a week. We used hers the other nights, sleeping separately only about twice a week. Each of us kept a partial wardrobe in the other's bedroom. The words had not been uttered in the heat of passion, in the throes of mutual spurting orgasms. Rather, they had been spoken, whispered actually, in a fine restaurant as we held hands across the candle-lit table, oblivious to — and/or not caring about — the stares of white couples and black couples around us, each with their own prejudgments. Yes, I had been about to say prejudices, but that wasn't the right word. Linda's parents loved me; they had accepted our bi-racial existence, though grudgingly and not quite with the liberal fanaticism of my own mom.

The problem, had any of the parents troubled to explore it, lay in the fact that Linda and I had pledged only our love, not our fidelity. Each of us knew that the other might — and had — call to say that he or she would not be available that evening. The only restriction that we placed on each other was that neither of us would use our own apartments for the accommodation of our sexual frenzies with others. I had the back room at my store, and we both had the facilites of the third person to rest our horny bones. And we each took full advantage of the liberties allowed by the other.

I lay there enjoying the servicing from my lover when all of a sudden Peter The Great announced that he was satisfied by blasting my accumulated cum into Linda's feverishly working jaws. Unlike our usual oral love-making, she chose to swallow it all, leaving nothing to snowball back into my mouth. She kissed me chastely on the lips and ran for the bathroom, step one in the daily ritual of preparing to go to her office or to Court. The glow of orgasm warmed me, and after I heard Linda flush, I left the bed to begin my own day in the store.

The rain that day was torrential, and I correctly expected little traffic. Except for Bunny. If your mind immediately jumped to an expression relating to 'fucking like bunnies', you'd be right on target. I had heard about great things about Bunny — rave reviews, actually - from one of the fellows in my card game. The following day I had made the phone call, and she arrived three days later, as agreed, shortly after lunch. I hung the 'Back in One Hour' sign but I could just as well have hung the 'Closed' sign for all the interruptions I expected in that weather. I also twisted one book in the window to a sloppy angle so that Linda would know not to use the key I had given her, a variation of the old college 'tie on the door knob' signal. It felt strange to be signaling my lover that I would be getting my rocks off in the back room, but those were our ground rules.

Bunny looked like a schoolboy's wet dream. Five feet tall, long blond hair, seductive blue eyes, perfect suckable tits, round hips, a bald pussy; her only fault consisted of the somewhat garish — no, make that whorish — bright red lipstick she sported. But that would be a small price to pay for fucking this delicious cunt. She laid on the bed, naked while I stripped myself, a patient smile on her face. Peter The Great jumped free of my shorts when I pulled them off and dropped them on the floor.

I could have Bunny any way I wanted her. It was a given that before the day ended, I would be in each of her three welcoming entrances, leaving behind in each case a gift of Peter The Great's creamy sauce; the only question lay in the order that we would couple. And it would be totally my decision to make. Bunny had no preferences; for the money that had exchanged hands, she had better not give me any trouble.

Thinking back to all of the successful fucks of my life, the three holers, I mean, they usually started off with a blow job, then moved on to straight fucking and finally to the reaming out of her asshole. What the fuck, I thought, why re-invent the wheel?

I straddled her face, knees on either side; I avoided sitting on her chest so that my fingers could play with her nipples. With the slightest pressure as Peter The Great touched her lips, they opened to welcome him, and then closed quickly so that he couldn't get away. Silly Bunny; as if my blood filled cock would ever attempt to escape from such a willing mouth before leaving his pearly gift of cum as a memento. Her glistening eyes searched mine as I savored the tender touch on Peter The Great's crown.

Much to my faithful friend's chagrin, I held still as my hands kneaded Bunny's soft breasts. The blond temptress made no complaint as I briefly pinched her nipples, much too hard for courtesy, but brief. Tension tore me apart; Peter The Great would gladly have spurted his seed into Bunny's willing mouth in an instant, yet I insisted on my own pleasure, that of the quest, not the conquest, as I forced him to hold back his ejaculation.

At my insistence, he moved slowly back and forth in her willing mouth. The rubbing sensations sent tingles throughout my body but I wouldn't let Peter The Great rush me. Then the little fucker got my balls involved, and they sent me a message that things were getting crowded in there, that my little sperm cells were demanding to be set free inside Bunny's mouth, though none of them knew her name, of course.

Damning my best friends, Peter The Great and my balls, I pulled out of Bunny's soft mouth and let my hand take control of matters. I stroked slowly, not giving in to their demands. What do they know? They think that cum is everything; they're wrong. It's the build-up to cum that excites me. The instant of orgasm is wonderful, but it quickly fades into memory as cocks shrink and balls shrivel, waiting that interminable time for rejuvenation.

Still, as a mere mortal, I could not restrain myself forever. Refusing to waste my juices on the whore's lewd face, I stuck Peter The Great back into her mouth, pounding, thrusting, slamming my cock into the waiting, welcoming orifice.

"I've gotta cum, I've gotta cum, I've gotta cum," I whispered, as the first throb of my cum shot into Bunny's mouth, followed by the balance of the contents of my balls. I sat back heavily on her tits as I regained my breath. Her soft mouth cleaned my cock as it slid out from between her garish lips.

I knew going in — no pun intended — that Bunny would do almost anything but that she would not swallow. Fine by me; you know that I love the taste of my own sauce. I slid down Bunny's body until our mouths were opposite and then I kissed her. My tongue pressed into her mouth for my own sweet spend; then I rolled over, bringing her atop me as I allowed gravity to return the rest to my hungry tongue. Then I pushed her over onto her back and we lay side by side, waiting for Peter The Great to get ready for his next assault.

The phone rang. Naked, I answered it on the extension in the back room.

"Bookstore, this is Bernie. May I help you?"

"Oh, hello Bernie, this is Karen... Karen Johnson. Do you remember me?"

Did I remember her? Was she kidding? That gorgeous piece of ass, the one that Jean had said was a lesbian? You bet your ass that I remembered her.