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TINGLES By Katharine Sexkitten His cock felt so fucking amazing, pistoning now in and out of my ass. I took a moment to wonder in awe at the oddity of that thought. Up to this evening, I'd been a perfectly heterosexual man, never dreaming or fantasizing about gay sex, and most especially never dreaming of being the one getting fucked, getting cock, getting laid like a woman. And absolutely loving it. I could still taste his cum, from the blow job I'd so enthusiastically given him earlier. While wearing his wife's stockings. And panties. With her somewhere downstairs, in a house full of people. People he and I both worked for, and with. I was face down on his bed, and he was on top of me, fucking me in an ever- increasing tempo, pounding me, pile-driving me, all the while his big belly resting on my back, his head laying on mine, his tongue sometimes in my ear and sometimes talking to me, grunting at me that I was a 'fucking slut' and 'a sexy gurl' and how he 'loved my pussy' and how I was 'the single best fuck' he'd ever had. I was naked, except for the tan thigh-high stockings he'd slipped up my legs twenty minutes ago, and he was still wearing his socks. And his animalistic fucking was making me cum, again. My little cock, trapped between the satin sheets of his marital bed and his body weight, was being assaulted by his every thrust, and every single nerve ending in my body was on overload. I'd never cum so hard or so much, and here I was already on the launch pad for another massive orgasm. Occasionally, without ever losing a beat in his relentless fucking of me, he'd move his head closer to me, beckoning me to turn my head slightly more, slaking his thirst for kissing me. Or slaking my thirst for his kisses. That's how it all started. The tingles. I was a few months shy of thirty. My marriage of five years was in the record books two years ago. My college sweetheart. We grew apart. She got busy in her career, I got busy in mine. I was sad when we parted, but it was understandable. We'd stay friends, we promised each other. We were just people growing into different people than we'd originally met. The paperwork was quick and painless and we moved on. I was working for a tech company. I was a mid-level management type, with a big budget and a small staff. But we got the work done. Our company had been through a lot of change and growth, and was becoming successful. We were all profiting. Everyone. Jobs, plus stock, plus bonuses. I had bought a condo and was putting lots of money in the bank for my retirement. Which was still decades away. One huge project was now over. It involved staff from different branches across the country. It had been a doozy, too. My participation in it was not necessarily huge, but I was there for countless meetings and study sessions and months and months of emails and papers and the like. Same old same old, in the corporate world. The project touched on nearly every department within the large organization, and I got to meet several people I'd never worked with before, or had only heard about. Massive changes internally were the end result, and while we were about a month late, the final end to the project had come and gone and the board of directors were flying high with pleasure. So, after all the stress and hard work some fun had to be had. One of the national VP's decided to have a party, at his house, for all the local people who'd been part of the team. He and his wife wanted to show their appreciation to everyone by putting on a shindig. They had a very large house and property, in the hoity-toity part of town, with a pool and hot tub and a games room downstairs with a full-sized pool table and foosball and video games on a gigantic screen, a gorgeous house full of rooms languorously appointed. The email invite said it was dress casual, and to bring a swimsuit, and enjoy everything. It was being fully catered, including bartenders and servers, and since marijuana had been legalized here there would be areas set aside for that too. Everyone was to have a real good time. And rides home would be available for everyone. Nobody was going to party and then drive. When the taxi let me out at the foot of the driveway, I could see dozens of cars. The loud music emanating from the house was noticeable, even several hundred yards away. It was late January, so it was cold, and there was some snow still on the ground. I trudged up to the front door, and rang the bell. It took a few moments, but eventually it opened. There was a woman standing there, in a long flowing dark skirt and a bright almost neon lime green blouse, with buttons opened enough to suggest a very sexy bosom. I recognized her, and she me. The hostess. Dark curly hair, bright red lipstick, and a killer smile. She was gorgeous, in a somebody's-mom kind of way. Just then the host appeared behind her. Brad. One of the national VP's. A honcho. A nice enough man, in terms of work. I didn't report to him, but we did work together on things from time to time, and we occasionally passed in the lunchroom when he was in town. He was just under six feet tall, and in not bad shape. A definite Dad body. Bald except for a ring of black hair between his ears. But he always had a smile on his face, even when the work bullshit was flowing, and he'd always treated me with respect and politeness. He had a very mischievous smile on his face tonight, and enough red in his eyes to show me that he'd already participated in some Mexican Laughing Tobacco. He yelled hi and shook my hand and they guided me in the door. He took my coat, and like every other winter party I'd ever been to he explained that the coats were all going on the bed up the stairs, second door on the right. Then he told her to explain the big theme for the night. She smiled and said, "oh yes, you need to know this. It's a mistletoe party!" "A what?" I asked. "A mistletoe party. Brad has hung some mistletoe in all sorts of unexpected places around the whole house and property. So be careful!" she giggled, "you never know when you'll end up standing under some mistletoe, and you'll never know who is around you at the time, but you'll end up getting kissed some!" Her delivery told me that she'd already had a drink or three. She was a little giddy, and a lot playful, and having a good time. Then she held up her left hand, over her head, and I saw what looked like an odd-shaped Brussel Sprout in her grip. "See?" she asked, and pursed her lips. I leaned forward, and kissed her, chastely. She was a married woman, after all. And her husband was way above me on the important list of the corporation. Not my direct boss, but a boss nonetheless. I wasn't going to risk anything for the sake of a kiss. She looked me in the eyes, as she closed the door to keep the cold air out, and said, "I hope you get better at that as the night goes on!" Then she was off to be the hostess. The house, or should I say mansion, was incredible. Beautifully decorated, with expensive everything. Even the knick-knacks were expensive. I had only walked maybe ten feet when a server asked me what I wanted to drink. I grabbed a beer and began my exploration. Naturally I ran into lots of people I know. Some of them had spouses with them of course, so the introductions never seemed to end. Each new room found me chatting with people, some more than others. And Carol, our hostess, was correct; there was Mistletoe here and there in sometimes odd places. I couldn't help but see people kissing, from time to time. And there were a few women I was looking forward to singling out, finding the right time and place to maybe swap spit. At least that was what I was fantasizing about. I'm not the most macho guy, and I still didn't see myself actually succeeding with any of the office babes. But there was no harm in imagining, right? After a couple of beers, and a couple of puffs on joints outside on the deck, while watching the brave ones in their swim suits in the pool or the hot tub, my inhibitions were crumbling and I was ever-more hopeful that I might get some quality snogging in tonight. Annette, the Office Manager, was a short, fat, troll-looking woman who cornered me in one of the dens underneath a big sprig, and I was forced to make out with her for a bit. She was slobbery and disgusting and more than three sheets to the wind, and I was kind of surprised at her ardor because the rumour had been floating for a couple of years that she was a lesbian. During the time she was shoving her tongue down my throat, I reassessed my opinions to consider that maybe she was bisexual. Or cheating on her lesbian lovers. I don't know, I just didn't want to spend time kissing her, so I ended it as soon as was politically correct and moved on. I was really hoping to finagle my way into making out with Jennifer, one of the executive assistants, who was a ten on my list and who unfortunately had guys draped all around her all night. At one point one of the tech managers, a guy named Al who I had coffee with a few times, was chatting her up a storm, and I got the impression he was actually making headway. So I wandered the house and property, waved hello at all sorts of people, and nursed what had become my third beer. A few doobies were proffered as I roamed and I totally admit to enjoying some. At one point, I was talking with some people at the back of the pool area, next to a cabana, or out- building. All of a sudden the door opened, and Brad came out, pulling a rolling cart covered with fresh towels for the swimmers and hot-tubbers. He didn't realize we were there, so he came to a very abrupt halt, and ended up chest to chest with me. Except that he's about three inches taller than me, so I guess more accurately we were chest to neck. He immediately looked down at me, and I up at him. I could feel his breath on my skin. I could smell him too. A hint of mouthwash or toothpaste, perhaps from earlier while getting ready for the party, mixed with a cologne sprayed on which radiated a masculinity, and topped off with a whiff of his natural pheromones. His musk. I found myself entranced. And I couldn't look away from his eyes. One of the crowd around us said "hey you two, look up!" We both did, at the same time, and sure enough, directly above us, was a healthy wad of Mistletoe, strung on a wire which also had small lights every six inches or so, to help illuminate the property at night. Then we both looked back at each other. There was a very long pause. But it wasn't awkward. His smile captivated me. His eyes bore into my soul, sending me vibes of playfulness and passion and adventure, which I'd never ever felt before in my life. I was having tingles. Growing up, I remember at times my Mom telling all of us kids when the subject of love came up that we would know we were in love when we got "the tingles". Once or twice she further explained to one of my siblings about how you would feel like your breath was being taken away, and your whole body would tingle, with excitement, and with joy. The first time I felt tingles was when I was fourteen, with Theresa Foster. Our families would socialize from time to time, and I will never forget finding a quiet space one night and making out, me with my zeal and her with her budding breasts and full lips. Lots of tingles. I made out with her many times over the next few years. I always loved it. I decided then and there that I could spend the rest of my life just kissing. It was all I really needed. Wasn't it? During high school, I made out with several other girls, or young women if you prefer, at various parties and dances. Some tingled more than others, but it was always great to feel the vibrations. I lost my virginity at seventeen, and there was major tingles at that! After that I enjoyed a few years of occasionally getting laid, and the tingles were always there. Then I met my wife, and her tingles, especially when we kissed, were the best yet. Sex was good, for a while, and she loved me to make out with her for hours, and she especially loved when I ate her pussy like I did. Fucking was fun, and she would give me a blow job, once in a while, and they all gave me tingles. All of it. But standing there, looking into Brad's eyes, feeling his presence so close to me, his aura enveloping me, I was in a state I'd never known. All the tingles added up from my whole sexual life would have been comparable to a drop of water in the Atlantic Ocean next to this. I had never felt like this. A million trillion billion volts of sensual electricity was shooting through me. Cascading in ever-increasing waves of euphoria, my senses became as alive as they'd ever been. And in that moment, I knew that it was the same for him. I knew it. And he knew that I knew. And I knew that he knew that I knew. And we were both on cloud nine. But then the bad thoughts were rearing their ugly heads. He's a guy. I'm a guy. This isn't supposed to happen. What the hell? Then he must have realized where we were, and who we were, and what was going on around us, and his smile got huge. "We have to stop meeting like this! My wife is beginning to suspect something!" Everyone laughed. Him and me included. It was the perfect thing to say. Like the line from Seinfeld, "not that there's anything wrong with that". He maintained his obvious married heterosexual image, while also pretending to be cool with a joke about having a homosexual lover. We both laughed, and we both got away with not having anyone suspect anything. But the tingles don't lie. An hour or so later, I was in the atrium, admiring the exotic plants, when a young South Asian woman named Sunita wandered in. She was in finance, and we'd said hello in the office a few times. She was what would be described as a BBW. Only about five-six, she was probably close to two hundred pounds. But she was tremendously exotic. Huge gold hoops in her ears, an equally-huge golden ring in her nose, and ribbons of gold around her neck. She was wearing a bikini bra, the canary yellow color going wonderfully with her deep brown skin, and a wrap-around skirt covering her huge bikini bottom but diaphanous enough to show enough to turn any man on. I thought she looked amazing. She had big thighs, but they were gorgeous and they led to a truly sexy and prominent camel toe. Ya-fucking-hoo! And then for a fleeting moment, I thought that it would be fantastic to look like that, to wear those things. So feminine, and sexy, and daring, and flirty. She pointed out some Mistletoe above us, and we began kissing. Man, could that woman kiss! She took the lead immediately, and before I knew it we were groping and tribbing and having a grand old time. Her lips and tongue overpowered me, overwhelmed me. It was awesome! But it didn't hold a candle to how I felt standing with Brad, staring into his eyes. Still, Sunita and I swapped saliva for a while, and then she broke off, and smiled at me, and asked me if I would be interested in taking this further, and before I could say "YES!" she shushed me and told me that anything we did would have to include her husband, who was a very bisexual mans' man and who would, and I quote, "really love to fuck a cute little white boy like you" and then she told me that I was pretty good kisser so she'd love to have me eat her out while I was getting her husband's big gigantic Indian uncut cock in my ass. I just stood there, stunned. I didn't know what to say. Nobody had ever said anything like that to me ever. In my entire life. It just didn't even seem conceivable that anyone would ever say something like that to me. Did people really talk like that in public? So I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. I was dumbfounded. Which I guess she took to mean no, because she smiled, said "too bad, but if you change your mind and decide to swing that way, we'll be here for a while and you can find me, or him," and then she went off to find her husband, and I watched her wiggle away. Gorgeous! And I realized I wanted to wiggle like that too! For the next couple of hours, I saw Brad three or four times. Across the room. He was the host, and both he and Carol were always busy, making the rounds, passing out nibblies and drinks. He'd always stop for a second and smile at me. And fix those penetrating eyes on me. And that would make Sunita's kisses disappear in my memory. They were good, but this was in a league of its own. It was after midnight when I realized that I was at that point where I should find my way home. Four, maybe five beers and more than several tokes throughout the night had made me happy, and somewhat inebriated. I wasn't falling down, nor was I incapable of motor skills, or anything like that. I was high. On the alcohol and weed, for sure. But also on the feelings that were still radiating through me. The feelings of the most intense passion I'd ever thought possible. I went upstairs to grab my coat off the bed, and head home. There were a couple of taxis waiting in the driveway, so I knew I could find a ride. On the way up the stairs I tried to remember what Brad and Carol had said at the beginning of the evening. The coats would be in the bedroom on the right. Right? Or was it the second bedroom on the right? Or maybe the left? Shit, maybe I was a teeny bit more stoned than I thought. I tried the first room on the left. A boy's bedroom. Maybe ten or eleven, based on the d?cor and the toys. The first bedroom on the right was for a girl. Maybe fifteen or so. The second bedroom on the left was the master. Wow, what a great room. Vaulted ceilings, and plush carpeting. The door was open to a massive bathroom, with lots of glass floor to ceiling windows and a claw-foot bathtub. An amazing view too. The king-size bed was a four poster, and was covered in a thick huge duvet and about a hundred pillows. It looked like you could just fall onto the bed and instantly be in the plushest place in the world. As I looked around, I realized one of the closet doors was open, and I could see skirts and blouses and dresses on hangers. Plus a bunch of women's shoes on the floor, sexy heels and flats and some boots as well. My eyes settled on a beautiful evening gown hanging there, sleeveless, with a deep plunging neckline. It was jet black, and I automatically knew that the length would come down to mid-thigh. On me. I instantly knew it would fit me. I just knew it. It took my breath away. And I was raging with tingles!!!! RAGING!!!! While I was standing there consumed with lust over Carols dress, I espied in my periphery a drawer of the big oak dresser slightly open, as if someone had been in it and then shoved it closed in a hurry, but it didn't close all the way. And peeking out of the gap, the exposed part of the drawer, were panties. Panties. Feminine. Sensual. Sexy. Panties. The raging tingles were roaring now, shooting like comets through my nervous system, and I realized that my cock was harder than it had ever been. Without thought, I took three steps and found myself standing in front of the dresser, my right hand reaching out and gently touching fabric, soft and icy cool and satiny, and then pulling a pair of panties all the way out of the drawer. They were lilac colored, not quite a G-string, with a scalloped lace trim around the waist band and around the leg holes. I was holding her panties, Carol's panties, my hostess for the evening, the woman circulating downstairs. I was on fire with delight, with admiration, with excitement and at the same time with serenity. I felt at home. Then I heard footsteps in the hall, fast approaching. By the time I turned my head, Brad had come striding into the room, his head down, one hand with a damp cloth blotting at the fabric of his shirt, which had a huge stain on it. The stain went all the way down the front of his shirt and continued on down the left leg of his slacks. Past his groin. Where there was something obviously there. Was he excited or was that how he always looked? I'd never noticed before, in the hundreds of times we'd passed in the halls. He stopped about four paces in, and looked up at me. Very surprised. He wasn't expecting to see anyone in his bedroom. Maybe especially me. Holding a pair of his wife's panties. "Oh, hi," he said hesitantly. "Hi." I was equally hesitant. "One of the IT guys just spilled his drink all over me," he continued, "and I need to change." I nodded. I was trembling, both with fear and excitement. The fear was facing the natural anger of my host, having found someone in his bedroom, snooping, perhaps even robbing from his wife's lingerie. The excitement was being this close to him again, the tingles suddenly beginning to race again. "I was looking for my coat," I managed to get out, my voice slightly quivering, "I've kinda had enough to drink and figured I should head home, and I couldn't remember which room you said the coats were in, and I took a wrong turn, and..." I couldn't think of anything else to say. His eyes hadn't left mine yet, but now they did. They darted down to see the panties I was holding, and then they came back up to drill into me. Then his face turned serious. "Are those Carol's panties?" I suddenly felt fear. Danger. My tingles ebbed, as the worry of a very bad social and work situation naturally flashed before my eyes. "Um," I stammered, reaching out to put the panties back in the drawer, "see, I..." "Stay right there," he ordered. "Don't move a muscle." He turned and headed back out the bedroom door, and his footsteps became quieter and then disappeared. My whole body went tense. There were jolts of nervous energy going up and down my spine. I started breathing much heavier. I was scared. Scared because I imagined him going to find her, to show her what a complete jerk I am, to get a witness to my depravity so he could have me fired. The natural things that would happen, that should happen. But also scared because of how much I felt when he was near to me. It was inexplicable. He was a man, and I had never had any homosexual thoughts before. I was straight, as far as I knew. And yet I couldn't deny how I felt being that close to him earlier. It was the tingles writ large. An absolute insanity of tingles. More than I'd ever felt in my life. More than all the other tingles in my life combined. By a thousand fold. And was I dreaming it? Earlier, I was sure he'd felt the same way. Moments later, the footsteps began anew. Then he came into the room, and closed the door. All the way. And locked it. Then he made five large strides, and put himself at the foot of the gigantic bed, in-between me and the door. Any thoughts I might have had of escape disappeared. He was a bigger man than me, and I was the intruder in his house. My brain launched into defensive mode. "Brad, about earlier, I can explain..." was all I got out, before he shushed me. I looked at him. He devoured me with his gaze. "I've never felt anything like that before," he said in an almost confessional way. "Have you?" I shook my head. "I love Carol, with all my heart." "Of course you do." "But I've NEVER felt anything like that before." I breathed out a huge sigh. "Me neither." Then I added, quietly, "These are feelings I've never experienced. I don't know what to do." He pointed at the floor, in front of him. "Stand here." I moved to the spot. The closer I got, the more the tingles ramped up. They were in the stratosphere by this point. His odor hit me again, masculine and powerful. His chest was rising quickly now, as was mine. He had to look down at me, a little bit. His eyes were impossibly direct and piercing me. He reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt. Each one released exposed more of his chest to me, and he was covered in hair. When he got half way done, I could almost see his nipples, and I knew that I really wanted to. Then the last few buttons were open, and he shrugged the garment off his shoulders and onto the floor. I heard myself moan, a little. It wasn't my usual low voice, either. It was softer, and breathier. And gentler. And my hands wanted to move, to touch him, to run my fingers through the hair on his chest, to flick at his unbelievably large manly nipples, already hard like candies. I wanted to wrap my lips around them, and taste them, tease them, adore them, and make them granite-like. Then he spoke. "Look up. What do you see?" He'd set himself inside the room at this spot for a reason. Looking up, I saw it, instantly. Directly above us was a gigantic wad of Mistletoe, strung on fishing line and hanging from the chandelier. I looked back at his eyes. They were alive! "It's mistletoe," I said. "It sure is," he replied, and smiled. "And what do people do under mistletoe?" "They kiss." He nodded. "I've never kissed another man in my life." "Me neither." "I've never wanted to kiss another man in my life." "Me neither." Then there was a long pause, both of us searching for the right word, or the right action. "But I want this." His arms reached out, grabbed me above my hips, and pulled me to him. My arms moved up his hairy chest to slide past his ears, the fingers of my left hand automatically slipping through the ring of hair he kept on an otherwise bald head, the fingers of my right hand still holding Carol's panties. Our bodies met, our heat transferring to the other. I wished that I was topless too, so I could feel his skin on mine. So I could feel his passion. Then, for just a second, I wished for a perfect world, so that I was indeed topless but also wearing a sexy bra at the same time. Like a woman, about to become intimate with the man in her life. Then his head bent slightly, and I went up on tippy toes slightly, and our lips met. All the tingles that had ever existed for the entirety of humanity and for the entirety of our existence on this planet became but a puff of smoke in the wind. This was what life was all about. TINGLES. As soft as air, as hot as fire, as feral as wild beasts, as gentle as lambs. This kiss was like a supernova. White hot, blinding, overwhelming, cataclysmic, precedent-shattering and consciousness-blowing. Our lips were together, each malleable and constantly moving and evolving to the shape of the others, gliding and bending and searching and determined. Each of us breathing hard, through our nostrils, our lips squirming in the most erotic of dances. Then he opened his lips, gently and gradually, and I felt the tip of his tongue lightly dabbing on the skin of my lips. Tasting me. Teasing me. Inviting me, to open up. An invitation I desperately wanted. He pulled me tighter to his body as his tongue began its exploration of the inside of my mouth. He was in charge here, there was no question. And I didn't have any reason to want it any other way. I wanted his lips. I wanted his tongue. I wanted his breath on my skin. And I wanted what I felt from him, his heat and his energy and his sexuality. And the huge hard lump in his pants that I could feel, on my lower tummy, just above my own rock hard cock. He was as erect as I can possibly imagine any cock ever being, and his size and girth were enormous. My heart, already racing at breakneck speed, jumped into hyper drive. EVEN MORE TINGLES. We broke our kiss, and stared at each other. Holding each other. "You're the best kiss I've ever had," he whispered. I smiled. "I'm feeling tingles now." "Tingles?" "My whole body," I answered, "alive and tingly. It's the best feeling in the world." I moved to him this time, and our kiss continued. For minutes on end we kissed, sharing our lips and tongues and breath and saliva and desire. His cock got even harder in his stained pants, I could feel it throbbing. His hands continually massaged my lower back, and then moved down to my ass cheeks. He squeezed them several times, each time garnering a large moan from me and even more passion in my kissing. Then he just grabbed each cheek, and pulled me to him fully, our bodies fully connected, making us almost as one. Our lips never lost contact. His hands pulled me to him, over and over again. He was frotting with me, through our clothes. It was so sexy. It made my mind go completely blank, the only things I was capable of feeling were the physical sensations. There was no outside world, there was no party, and there was no humanity. Seven and a half billion other people, and none of them existed at that moment. There was just us, kissing madly and loudly and sensually, our arms wrapped around each other, his hands on my ass, pulling me back and forth into him, feeling his iron pipe of a cock, while my smaller one started oozing rivers of precum, and my breath coming quicker and quicker. And then, totally unexpectedly, with only a second or two warning, I had the biggest cum of my life. I just began gushing cum out, pumping again and again and again into my boxers and my khakis. And he could feel it too, I knew. My mind seemed to just shut off, and I drifted in a state of not-quite-unconsciousness, my lips the only part of me still moving, working with his lips in the kiss of the ages. We broke our kiss, but not our hold on each other. His eyes took me over again. Steadfast, earnest, and overflowing with desire. "Did you just cum?" I nodded my head. I wasn't ashamed, but I was a little bit worried that perhaps I'd overstepped some boundary. This 'being gay' thing was new to me, and I didn't know if there was some protocol I'd breached. Then he smiled. "That's so fucking sexy." Which made me smile. "You're so fucking sexy," he said. "No," I returned, kissing him gently, "you are." He kissed me again. When we came up for air again, I asked him the question that was on my mind. "What about your wife? Won't Carol come up here?" "She's busy right now being a hostess. She'll be fine." I thought for a second. "Do you really think I'm sexy?" "You're the sexiest creature I've ever been with, ever known. I've never felt this way before," he continued, "I mean, I love Carol and she's a great kisser and fun in bed and I have zero complaints. But you...you take me to a whole different level. I didn't know it could feel like this. I didn't know I could feel like this." I just kept nodding, and grinding my body into his, trying to make his cock feel as good as he made my cock feel. Just from rubbing. "Look, I don't care anymore about labels. I don't care if it makes me gay, or bi, or whatever. I just know that holding you, kissing you, being with you, is making me higher than I've ever been." Then he paused, and looked at me with curiosity in his eyes. "And you? How are you feeling?" "This is a first for me, you know that, right?" He nodded. "And I can't believe how good this is. How amazing I feel. How amazing you make me feel. I don't care about labels either. I don't care. I just want..." "You just want what?" he asked. I considered it for a few seconds. "I just want this," I replied, and slid out of his arms, down to my knees, which put my face almost directly in front of his crotch. The stain on his left leg was still there, but all I could really see was the insanely huge lump in his pants. I looked back up at him, and he was smiling. "I want to suck your cock. And I want to swallow every drop of cum you can give me." "Mmmm," he said, "that sounds so good, baby." I realized I loved being called baby. I told him so. "Those panties you have in your hand?" he asked. "Uh huh." "I think you'd look fucking fantastic wearing them," he whispered, his excitement level moving up a notch or ten. "I bet you've got the most gorgeous ass." I giggled for him, like a schoolgirl. Or a woman, suddenly delighted with her suitor. "You want me to wear your wife's panties while I suck your cock?" "Yes!" he hissed out. "I would love that, sugar," I said in my most sultry manner. Standing up, I pulled off my golf shirt, showing my upper body to him. His hands reached out to tweak my nipples, which were already hard enough to hang clothes on. That just turned me on even more, ramping up the tingle factor yet again. I thought I'd hit the highest level already, and yet each new activity just kept breaking the record. Then off came my pants. Normally, I would hesitate doing it around other men, but there was nothing of the sort now. I wanted to be naked for him. I wanted to wear his wife's panties for him. And I REALLY wanted to suck his cock. Once I was stripped, I stepped back and started to put the panties on, when he stopped me. He was staring at my cock and balls, his mouth open with a huge smile. I wondered what he was thinking. "Wow," he whispered, "you cum a lot!" I looked down at my middle section. My pale milky-white skin shone with streams of cum, all running in random directions on my skin, gravity pulling them down. Without thinking I scooped up a gigantic dollop on my finger, and brought it to my mouth. Looking him in the eyes, I slowly slipped my cum-covered digit into my mouth, closing my lips tight and then feeling the taste on my tongue, my body shivering, my lungs blowing out a feathery gasp through my nose, my eyes suddenly closing as I savoured the taste, so heady and masculine and absolutely mind-blowingly fucking delicious. I'd never eaten my own cum before, and regretted it to my core. Swallowing what I had, I opened my eyes and moved my finger back down my torso to gather more. Brad was watching, his breathing fast and furious, his heart pounding so much I could almost feel it. "That's the sexiest fucking thing I've EVER seen," he said. And the look on his face gave me no reason to doubt him. I scooped up some more, and drank it down. YUM! As I was reaching for more, his finger came up to my mouth, covered in my cum, and I eagerly took it into my lips. We were staring at each other, and I could see how turned on he was, and he could definitely see how amazingly turned on I was too. My tongue caressed his finger, as I lovingly sucked it to the back of my mouth, my taste buds in rapture of what he was feeding me. I thought of my ex-wife, and her occasional blow jobs, and how she always said she hated the taste of my cum. She was fucking nuts, I realized. This is the greatest pleasure I've ever had! I slid on Carols panties, all the way up my nearly hairless legs, and captured my shrinking five-incher in the joy of soft lycra. YUM YUM YUM. He pulled me to him again, our mouths connecting again, each of us never tiring of the kiss. Wanting more of the kiss. Wanting the kiss to last forever, perhaps. His tongue swirled around my mouth, seeking out whatever cum I had left, and then we traded it back and forth on our tongues, before he finally stopped the kiss and swallowed, showing me in the most honest and masculine way how serious he was. My arms around his head again, his around my body, his hands back on my almost fully-exposed ass cheeks. The moans from both of us now were loud and significant. There was no holding back now, in an unspoken way. It was new territory for both of us, for sure, but we were both jumping over that waterfall willingly and with both feet. We kissed some more. Me in panties, him in stained pants. My skin felt like heaven touching his. My little cock was already beginning to stir again in my panties, and that NEVER happened before, so soon after an orgasm. Then he stopped kissing me for a second, and let go of me. I was momentarily surprised, and disappointed. He stepped over to the dresser, and began rifling through drawers, moving things aside as he searched for something. The third drawer did the trick, and he turned to me with some sexy looking hosiery in his hand. "Put these on too, okay?" I looked at what he held. "Is that pantyhose?" "No," he said, "thigh-highs. Stockings. They're sexy as hell, and you would look fucking amazing in them, with the panties." I don't think I'd ever seen a bigger smile on a human being in my life. He was positively beaming, and I suppose I was too. They were tan in colour, and would look amazing next to my pale skin. I rolled each one into a donut, and then slowly slid them up my legs. OH MY FUCKING GOD! The feeling of silkiness and sensual pleasure was new to me, but I knew then and there that I would be doing this every day for the rest of my life. It was indescribable. Exhilarating. Sublime. It felt fucking fantastic. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror next to the dresser. I actually choked up. My initial worry was that I would just look stupid, like an idiot man wearing women's clothes. And badly. But I didn't look like that at all. My ass was sticking out, round and full and sexy. My legs looked like a million bucks, in sleek shiny thigh-high stockings, and my upper body was smooth and hairless and feminine. I turned to Brad. "Where does Carol keep her lipstick?" He jumped over to a different dresser, and opened up a decorative box sitting on top. He handed me a tube, which I opened and twisted out. Even doing that made me tingle. I looked back in the mirror, made a kissy face, and did my lips. And made it to an even bigger level of tingles. I was coursing with them, my body soaring on waves of sexual energy. I couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world. He took me in his arms again, like a man would do with his woman, and we kissed. Softly, romantically. Then it got a little more hot and bothered, and soon we were making out like animals, his tongue in and out of my mouth, owning me, possessing me, empowering me, enslaving me. I wanted this forever. Even I was taken aback slightly when my knees let go and I dropped down, but I quickly realized that my soul was hungry. Hungry for the gigantic lump in his stained pants. My fingers reached out for his belt, and my eyes met his. "These pants are stained," I cooed, "so it would be best to get them off." He nodded quite energetically as he spoke. "Right, that's why I came up here, to change." "No, baby," I whispered, "you came up here for this." Done with the belt, I unbuttoned him and slowly pulled the zipper down. It's a little different doing it from that angle, instead of how I'd always done it to myself, but I loved it! After that, his pants slid to the floor, and he stepped out of them. His boxers were tented, to the left, with a living breathing animal that was throbbing and moving. There was a huge wet spot on the fabric, and without thought I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around the shape, tonguing the fabric, trying to taste his precum, and then finally sucking his boxer shorts as much as I could. He groaned, really loud. Then I could wait no more. I ripped his shorts down his legs, and his cock sprang out, pointed straight up at his chin, his hairy balls hanging like two plums, I reached for them, gently taking them in my left palm and slowly massaging them as my right hand wrapped around his shaft. It was warm and alive and had a huge vein running north/south underneath, and three smaller bluey-coloured veins just under the surface of the skin. He was cut, and had a remarkable head to his cock. Truly helmet shaped, more so than mine. And it was shimmering, shining in the light of the bedroom chandelier above us, glistening with his copious precum. I moved my hand up his shaft, eliciting more gasps and moans from him, and I gathered some his juices and ran them back down his shaft, lubricating him. I looked him square in the eyes. "And," I gasped, "you came up here for this." Then I licked his cockhead, starting underneath and then slowly and languorously coming up, over the bend and across the pee hole, and then up the top, and around the sides. My mouth fairly screamed in delight at the tang and crispness of his love liquid, his precum. It was delicious. It was the nectar of the gods. It was as if I was overdosing on some sort of love heroin, and I knew I'd only just started tripping. Waiting no more, for that which I knew deep down was what I wanted most in the world, I took his cock into my mouth, my wet salivating mouth, and as my tongue caressed the underside of his fantastic cock, my lips and mouth began sucking, and suckling. We could both hear the squishy sounds I was beginning to make, and I risked looking up to see his reaction. His eyes were closed, his head back, and he was breathing excitedly out of his mouth. Which was accompanied by a steady litany of his steam-of- consciousness thoughts, verbalized. "Ooooooooooh yeah, suck me baby" and "yes, yes, just like that" and "oh fuck yeah, you wicked slut" and also lots of grunts and groans, a soundtrack to my very first blowjob that couldn't have been composed better by any Oscar-winning genius. Music to my ears. I closed my eyes, and began the serious and yet joyful task of worshipping his cock. A man's cock, in my mouth! And I was abso-fucking-lutely over the moon ecstatic about it. Keeping my mouth wet at all times, up and down I went, venturing further and further down his seven and a bit inches. Savouring it. Licking it. Sucking it. Making love to it. All of it. It took some trying, but after a few minutes, I was able to touch my lips to his body. I had him in me, all the way. Breathing through my nose, his meat in my mouth and throat, pulsing with his energy and his surging hormones and his building orgasm. Because I could tell he was about to cum. I just knew it, somehow. Innately, I suppose, since I'd never given a blowjob before. Ever. And now I was a confirmed cocksucker, and apparently good at it, because I felt his balls tensing up, and his legs shaking a little bit, and his moans get louder, and his hands come down on the side of my face and he held me to him, and then his cock really began pulsing, firing globs and globs and globs of cum into my mouth, all of it pooling at the back, building from a little stream to a giant lake of whitish viscous delicious tangy salty yummy yummy yummy cum. A man's cum. For me. In me. My taste buds were exploding. My breathing was rapid and noisy. So was his. He held me, with more sticky ropes of Brad juice swirling on my tongue, dripping around my teeth and down my gums and pooling in my cheeks, some of it seeping out a tiny crack in the seal of my lips on his cock and coating my lower lip and jaw. And I came again, in my panties. Carols panties. His wife's panties. Not as much as the first time, mind you. But I wasn't being touched there in any way, I realized. I came just from the sexual high. And knowing that that was possible made me the happiest human being on the face of the planet. Well, except perhaps for Brad, who looked like he had just been to heaven and was now trying to deal with the coming down part. He looked like how I wanted him to look every second of every day, as the man who allowed me to find out who I was, and what I was. I swallowed everything, in two gulps. The warmth slid down my gullet, headed for my stomach, and as it passed each new molecule of flesh each drop of cum enriched me, filled me, and affected me. It turned me, but not to the dark side. No, this was the sex side. The most powerful and glorious force for good in the universe. I'M A COCKSUCKER! I'M A COCKSUCKER! Like a mantra, that kept repeating in my heart and mind, and I was delighted to hear it and feel it and be it, as I lovingly cleaned any remaining liquid from the shaft of his now slightly-softening penis. It was still larger than mine, and I took a moment to feel a delightful surprise that I could take that much man meat in my mouth. I'M A COCKSUCKER! I'M A PANTY-WEARING COCKSUCKER! Floating on a sea of joy based on those thoughts, I got off my knees and stood before him, scooping up some of his errant sperm from my chin. He finally opened his eyes, looked at me like I was the most precious thing that had ever occurred to him in his entire life, and then he reached for me, pulled me to him, and his mouth devoured mine again, our arms wrapping around each other again, our bodies melting into each other again, our passion soaring again. My tingles moving to an even higher level now, more than I thought possible. I was achieving new levels of intensity and power in my tingles that seemed to come from the ether around me, and yet were consuming me. We kissed, passionately, for a few more minutes, and then he slowly moved us to the side of the bed, where with one hand he pushed all the pillows off the other side, pulled the duvet back as far as he could, and then spun us, and laid me down on my back, him on top, his lips feasting with mine, his arms protecting me from the big bad world around us, his cock starting to rise again. I broke the kiss, and stared into his eyes. "Are you getting hard again?" He nodded. "Yeah baby, yeah," he breathed out, "which is amazing." "How?" I asked. "I've never recovered this fast before. Ever. With Carol or with the other women I slept with. But you, you do something to me. I don't ever want to stop this, stop kissing you, and holding you, and I really want to, um..." He was searching for a way to say something. I was pretty sure I knew what it was. "You want to make love with me?" His answer was a moan. "Oh fuck yes." I giggled under him. His cock got ever bigger. "You want to fuck me?" "Please? Can I?" I blushed, and played a little coy with him. I didn't answer right away. But it was just for fun. I knew the answer already. I let him stew for a few more minutes, and then I gave him the news. "Brad, if you don't fuck me, right here, right now, in the same bed that you fuck your wife in, while I'm wearing her panties and her stockings and her lipstick, then I will never speak to you again." He looked shocked. "Never?" "And if you don't fuck me now, if you don't make love to me now, then I'll have to reconsider my new plan." "Your new plan? What is that?" "My new plan is to suck that magnificent cock of yours every fucking chance I get, anywhere anyhow anytime you want. I want to swallow your cum every day for the rest of my life." His smile couldn't get brighter, and his cock swelled even more up against my skin. "And that plan includes dressing as a sexy CD slut every day for the rest of my life too." "Mmmm," he moaned, "I like that plan." "But, like I said," I continued, "all that might change if you don't fuck me. Right now." "You're sure?" he asked, thoughtfully. "I've never been surer of anything. Fuck me Brad. Fuck me! Do it, please! Fuck me fuck me fuck me!!!! Take my pussy, make it yours." So he did. He fished some lube out of a bedside table, and made love to me in missionary. I adored it, although I won't lie and say that there wasn't pain initially. There was. But even when it happened, I wasn't discouraged at all. He took it slowly, and paid care to me, and before we both knew it all of his rock-hard fuckstick was in me, to the hilt. AND I FUCKING LOVED IT!!!!!! For about ten minutes he fucked me that way, staring into my eyes at times, kissing me at times, making me breathe loudly and rake my fingers over his strong masculine hairy back and calling him "darling" and "lover" and "my man". Then he pulled out, and turned me over, and that's when the fucking really began. He pile-drived me about ten minutes, and then he got even fiercer. I had two cums during all this time, once from the pressure of his skin on my little cock in the missionary position and once from his weight pounding my cock into the silk sheets of his bed. His breath in my ear got insane at one point, and in between his gasps he told me he was going to cum. I implored him to cum inside me, to flood me with his sperm, to fill all my gaps and crevices with his baby-making juice. I told him to make me pregnant, that I wanted him to fuck me until I was carrying his love child. I totally admit I got silly, but I couldn't help it. I HAD FOUND THE HIGHEST LEVEL OF TINGLES YET. There, lying on his bed, his cock shooting his cum into my innards, wearing panties and stockings and lipstick, a pool of my own cum spreading under my tummy, his final wrenching moan from that moment of sexual release still ringing in my ears, my own orgasmic nirvana fresh and vivid and life- changing rippling through my veins and cells, I found the greatest amount of tingles ever found. It was the tingles. They changed my life. The End.