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Candi Coating

March 31, 2011 4 comments

Candi Coating - Illustration by Andrea and Ale

Brandi saw her aunt on the street, ran past with a breathless “Hi,” ran up the walk to her cousin’s house, and entered without a knock. She took the stairs quickly, burst into her cousin’s room, and found Candi lying on her back, in bed, her face flushed, her dress pulled up her legs, and her nipples impudently poking peaks in the soft cloth of her top.

“What are you doing?” Brandi asked, knowing full well what Candi had been doing.

“Nothing,” Candi gasped, having difficulty coming back from the brink of an orgasm and not in any condition to formulate a convincing lie. She was achingly aroused and terribly frustrated, and she wished her cousin hadn’t come in when she did. Fuck, I need to come so bad, Candi thought, and she cast about, without hope, for an excuse to get her cousin out of the room so Candi could lift her dress all the way again and rub her clit to the explosive climax she had been about to have. Not only was she dying to come, but she had had a hard week in school and was looking forward to whiling away the afternoon with her legs spread, masturbating repeatedly.

“Guess who’s coming to visit?” Brandi blurted, ignoring her cousin’s obvious need for privacy.

Candi resigned herself to frustration and wondered if delayed gratification might add to her arousal and the satisfaction of an even greater climax after her cousin left. “Who?” Candi asked.

“Alessandro, our cousin from Argentina, the guy I once told you about.” Brandi couldn’t stop thinking about her trip to South America with her mom and dad, when she was fifteen, and particularly about Alessandro, her Dad’s relative’s stepson.

“Cousin?”

“Yeah, well, sort of. He’s a God—at lease he would be if he wasn’t such a Bad Boy. I wanted to fuck him more than anything. If only he could have been my first instead of stupid Clint Fengler.”

“You’re such a slut. Clint’s a pig.”

“Yeah, I know, but… He’s coming over now.”

“Clint?” Candi asked with horror.

“No, Alessandro, you idiot.”

“Here? Now? What do you mean?”

“He’s in town, and he called me up.” The only reason he called is because he wants to fuck me,” Brandi thought. “I gave him your address. I knew your Mom would be out, and I figured…” Brandi shrugged.

“I’ll get in trouble,” Candi said immediately. “I’m not allowed to have boys over when my parents aren’t home.”

“They’ll never know,” Brandi said.

Candi calculated the odds of being discovered, the thrill of having a Bad Boy in her bedroom, and the consequences if it was discovered he’d been there. The throbbing need between her legs tended to push her in the direction of saying yes, but what would I let him do? Candi wondered. She wasn’t going to let some strange boy fuck her. She knew that for sure. That’s what Brandi does, Candi thought. She wondered if she had the courage to show herself naked to the boy and then even let him rub her where she wanted to be rubbed most. She clenched her legs tightly and had a mini-orgasm at the thought.

The doorbell rang, but before Candi could protest Brandi ran downstairs and brought back the most delicious hunk of young manhood that Candi ever imagined. In no time at all and with barely a hello he had his shoes and shirt off and was sliding his trousers down his legs.

Candi’s eyes opened wide at the sight of his stiff cock pointing at her, bobbing and waving back and forth as he moved.

“Oh No,” Candi protested. It was happening too fast and was frightening. She wanted to slow down and get control of the situation, but Brandi was behind her and Brandi’s arms reached around and opening the front of Candi’s dress. “Wait!” Candi screeched, but before she knew it she was sandwiched between Brandi and the naked Alessandro. And then Brandi had Candi’s breasts in her hands and was pulling Candi’s nipples and running fingers all over them.

“Ohhhh,” Candi screamed in delight, raising her mouth, which Alessandro took as permission to kiss. He put his tongue deep inside her. Then he positioned himself in front of Candi, while Brandi locked her arms around her girl cousin, imprisoning her against the new boy.

Candi felt Alessandro’s hard penis searching for her prize, coming closer with each probe, and then he found her wet opening and pushed in—not all the way in—just enough not to be dislodged.

It wasn’t that Candi was unwilling—she had even moved to help Alessandro find her wetness, but she felt that feminine modesty demanded at least a show or resistance to being taken so quickly and without so much as tacit permission. Candi tried to rise up, tried to dismount the overwhelming demands of the stallion partly in her, but he followed her up, staying just inside until she could rise no more and had to come down, burying the stiff hot rod all the way into herself.

“Ahhhh,” Candi screamed. The rubbing, pulling, and twisting of her nipples; the tongue swishing wetness all around the insides of her mouth; the hands of a young man she didn’t know holding her buttocks, spreading her cheeks, and stretching her anus as he pulled her tightly to him; and the arousal she felt even before either of her cousins laid a hand on her: it was all too much, and Candi couldn’t help but commence madly fucking the pole inside her.

Before long, Alessandro took pity on the poor girl—he didn’t want her to have to do all the work, and he carried her, still on his cock, and laid her on her on her bed and took over. He drove Candi, and she screamed herself into an orgasm, and Alessandro, holding her pinned with his muscular hands on her shoulders and his rod buried deep inside her, let her writhe.

Candi gasped for breath as she had her first climax, but Alessandro did not let up. He picked up the pace and fucked her fast and furiously, driving her into another and another orgasm, until she was panting, drenched with sweat, and more than overly satisfied.

Alessandro fell on Candi and rested, and then he pulled out. He hadn’t yet come, and his cock glistened with wetness and was stiffer than ever as he turned toward Brandi.

Brandi licked her lips and began unbuttoning her dress.

Best of Both Worlds–a story

March 29, 2011 5 comments

Best of Both Worlds. Illustration by Andrea and Ale.

Best of Both Worlds

by Matthew Dyne

“Surprise!” Ginny yelled.

Sally startled awake from her nap in the sunshine, outside the pool house of her multimillion dollar mansion. She looked up, but her gaze drifted downward. I must be having a wet-dream, she thought.

“I brought two friends,” Ginny said. “I thought you might need cheering up.”

The cheering up referred to Sally’s husband dying. It wasn’t a tragedy—the man had been in his nineties, but he had been good to Sally, taking her in and becoming a bit of the father she never had and then, for the last two years of his life, her husband.

Sally didn’t regret trading two years of faithfulness for his fortune, and she didn’t do it out of greed. She could have cheated—he never would have known. He even expected that she would need to satisfy a young woman’s cravings he could no longer take care of. But he didn’t want her in bed with others. He would have been terribly jealous, and Sally knew that. So she was honorable and kept her part of the unspoken agreement inherent in their nuptial vows by taking care of her own needs, as best she could.

But Sally was a highly sexual young woman, and not having sex with anyone, except herself, made her terribly horny. Now that he was gone Sally’s desires no longer needed to be repressed, and they burst forth in full force.

Besides being highly sexual Sally was a bi-girl, but she had preferences of which Ginny was aware. That’s why when Ginny met her two friends, whom she hadn’t seen since high school, and when they came out to Ginny, confessing their secret and even asking Ginny to go to bed with them, Ginny realized they were perfect.

“I’d like you to meet Jill,” Ginny said, pulling on Jill’s penis, which caused her to rise on tiptoes and squeal. “And Jo,” Ginny said, pulling on Jo’s penis and getting a squeal from her, too. “Jo and Jill, meet my friend Sally.”

“Hi Sally,” the girls sang out.

Ginny pulled the girls along by their penises—she so enjoyed their feel—so hard and responsive. She was reluctant to let go.

Jo removed Ginny’s hand from her and Jill’s penises, for Jo wanted Sally, who was clearly fascinated, to see the two penises in their full glory.

“I’m sorry for staring,” Sally finally said, embarrassed by the two hard penises now close to and pointing at her. “I’ve heard about… but… I never…”

“It’s okay,” Jill said. “A friend of Ginny’s is a friend of ours, and we are, somewhat, unusual.”

“Somewhat?” Jo teased. Her penis bobbed as she turned toward Jill.

“I thought you wouldn’t mind throwing a party, just a little one, for the four of us,” Ginny said.

Jo and Jill looked at Sally and smiled demurely.

Sally couldn’t take her eyes from the stiff pokers—so masculine, yet, on the two beautiful young women, so inexplicably feminine, too.

“Sally hasn’t had sex in two years,” Ginny said.

Jo’s and Jill’s expressions turned to ones of concern. “Oh my,” Jo said.

Oh, you poor dear,” Jill gasped.

Sally blushed. She looked down again, and without thinking she blurted out, “You’re so big.”

“Thank you,” Jill and Jo said together.

“Mostly, Sally likes girls.” Ginny said.

“Yes,” Sally interrupted, “but I’m weak for a hard cock inside me. There’s nothing like the real thing, is there?” She looked longingly at the man sized tools jutting from just above the legs of the two most feminine creatures standing before her.

The three other girls agreed that there was nothing like the real thing, but Jill and Jo didn’t mean the same thing Sally meant. “That’s why we’re here” Jo said excitedly. Then, she said sadly, “We’ve never had the real thing. We’ve only had each other. We don’t own a vagina between us, and we’ve never tried one.”

“We’re virgins,” Jill said and giggled. “We asked Ginny to let us try hers, but she insisted you needed us more, and, well, if you wouldn’t mind, we were hoping…”

“Mind?” Sally exclaimed. She scooted over on hands and knees and rained kisses all over the two erect penises before her, and then she took each penis in her mouth and gave it a good sucking, which elicited gasps and made the girlish rods stand even more vertically.

“That feels great,” Jo said, “not that we’re inexperienced in that department.”

Amidst much gossip and laughter the four girls took off their clothing. They were all curves and waves, hills and dales—breasts, buttocks, hips, and thighs. There wasn’t a manly feature among them except for those two beautifully sculpted pokers standing at attention, waiting to perform their duty and take their pleasure.

“Sally and Jo first,” Ginny directed.

Sally assumed the doggie position and spread her legs. “Hurry,” she begged, thrusting her pelvis unambiguously, signaling that her needs had long been unsatisfied.

“I’ve never done this,” Jo said. “So, if I’m a little clumsy…”

“Just do what comes naturally,” Sally encouraged. “Vaginas are sensitive, but they don’t mind a bit of punishment.”

Sally was as wet as a rainforest, and Jo had no trouble finding her way in. “Ohhhh,” she screamed. “That feels soooo good.”

Sally gave Jo a couple of love squeezes, the kind that only a woman can give, and Jo took off like a mare pretending to be a stallion. She fucked Sally quickly. She fucked slowly. Sometimes she barely pushed in. Sometimes she probed deeply. She pumped hard, and she caressed, too, experimenting to find all the ways she could to give and get pleasure from Sally, her new girl-toy.

After awhile Jo took her penis out and asked Sally to turn over. Jo wanted to experience the missionary position, too. Sally turned over, and Jo was quick to put her penis back in. She tried different strokes and angles and listened to Sally’s sounds, paying attention to Sally’s feelings, and with kisses, nibbles, and words expressing love and contentment she teased, tickled, and thanked Sally for sharing her vagina that was freely flowing. A rivulet trickled between her buttocks.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Jo repeated in a rhythm set to the tempo of her fucking Sally.

Sally was in heaven—a nirvana of no consciousness—a realm of joy and abandon she wanted to stay in forever. She tried to hug Jo. She tried to touch Jo’s breasts and stroke her skin, but Sally couldn’t concentrate on anything but the flush of her arousal and her approaching orgasm. All was feeling—distilled, concentrated, throbbing and burning between her legs, high up in her, high behind, within, and around her clitoris that was so swollen it was about to burst…

And then it did burst, and Sally screamed her way into the best orgasm of her young life, her best orgasm ever, and Jo stopped pumping, her penis inserted as far as it could get into Sally. And then Jo rose up, rose up high, lifting Sally, lifting then lowering then lifting her again using the penis that was deep inside her, so that all the pressure of Sally’s weight concentrated behind her throbbing clit.

Sally never imagined an orgasm the likes of that which ripped through her—more than not a continuation of her previous climax. She shook from head to toe. Contractions vibrated through her body. And Jo, sensitive as ever, waited, her penis still lifting but not moving, while Sally’s orgasm ran its course.

***

Jo lowered Sally and lay on her softness and rested, her penis, still bone hard, still inside.

Sally moaned, and Jo, her face buried in Sally’s neck, kissed her new friend repeatedly.

Time passed. Sally recovered. “You come now,” she whispered to Jo, and she felt Jo shake her head Yes.

Jo rose again, and slowly and steadily, and then more quickly, demandingly, she built to a fever pitch, and thrusting deeply, moaning and gasping, sweat glistening to sheen her skin, she burst into an orgasm of her own. A flood of girl-juice pumped out of her and joined the liquids Sally had so generously supplied.

Then the girls, still joined, rolled over, and Sally rested on Jo as the girls touched each other and whispered their appreciation—Sally for the first love making she’d enjoyed in two years and the best ever, and Jo for the first vagina she had ever had the pleasure of entering.

***

“My turn,” Jill said.

“You be on the bottom,” Ginny said. “I’ll put you in me and show you some of the things I like.”

That sounds like fun,” Jill said, and she lay down.

Ginny straddled Jill and sank Jill’s extra hard penis deep inside. “Ahhhh,” Ginny gasped.

“Ohhhh,” Jill moaned.

“Ride ‘em cowgirl,” Ginny yelled and proceeded to fuck Jill wildly, milking the girl cum right out of her. Jill thrashed and screamed in ecstasy, while Ginny hung on for dear life, not for a second letting Jill’s engorged rod slip out.

When Jill was done the girls turned over and Jill, not to be outdone, pounded Ginny into a fine orgasm of her own, but she didn’t stop. Jill kept fucking Ginny hard and fast, and the girls travelled their second and third orgasms together, coming as if they were one hot girl in the throes of her own bliss. Ginny marveled at the ability of Jill and her girl penis to match Jill’s own insatiable appetite yet never get soft.

***

Jill and Jo were still hard as the four girls drank iced wine in a hot tub. “Multiple orgasms are as easy for us as for you,” Jill explained. “And we don’t get soft until we want to. I love my penis.”

“I love it too,” Ginny said. “Together we’ve got the best of both worlds.”

Sally and Jo agreed and decided to sleep together. Ginny and Jill decided to sleep together too.

A hot tub, my own wine cellar, a girl with a penis that’s always hard, sleeping in my bed… Life is perfect, Sally thought.

Jill and Jo thought, Vaginas are awesome.

Ginny thought, I love it when friends get together.

Breast Size Counts

March 12, 2011 12 comments

The site VoyeurWeb.com has been in operation for years. It allows people to submit nude photos of women, these photos are published, and viewers can vote on the pictures: poor, fair, good, very good, or superb.

The site also runs contests, such as INSTANT Tit Flash Photos, and the results are tabulated in a manner I’ll discuss.

I’ve look at porn from time to time, and occasionally on a video I hear a young woman lament that her breasts are too small. This always makes me sad, not just because I am especially turned on by small breasts, but because these women think they have to be big–something they are not–to be sexy.

An example of Extremely Big Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

I’ve known lots of men who prefer smaller breasts, and I’ve often wondered what the statistics really are. I realized that using VoueurWeb.com I might be able to quantify the appeal of, meaning being aroused by, breasts of different sizes. I performed an analysis, and the results are shown in the table below.

Very Small Small Medium Big Very Big Extremely Big
In top 42 by number of views 5 4 7 9 7 10
Million Views/pic 5.0 4.4 5.9 4.3 4.8 3.7
In top 63 by ranking 1 4 12 24 13 9
Top ranking 4.65 4.75

In VoyeurWeb’s tit flash photo section, pictures are categorized in different ways. One way is by number of views. Another is by ranking–1 to 5 corresponding to poor to superb. The above table lists breast size across the top and methods of analysis on the left.

First row: In the first row I took the top 42 pictures rated by number of views, and I list how many of these top number-of-views photos there were of each breast size. Based on this information one might be tempted to conclude that viewers were most attracted  to Extremely Big breasts. It might be, however, that curiosity, rather than interest, skewed these numbers. Similarly, the number for Very Small breasts might also not be an accurate representation of viewer arousal. Excluding Extremely Big and Very Small breasts, it seems that Big, Very Big, and Medium breasts are more appealing than Small breasts. However, using the method of the first row seems to be problematic.

Think the problem this way: Let’s imagine that there are many more women with large rather than small breasts. An extreme example would be 99 large breast photos for each small breast photo. Imagine that viewers are looking at photos randomly and selecting something that they like other than breast size, for example skin color. Assuming that large and small breasts have, on average, the same skin color, there would be 99 large breast selections for each small breast selection. Total number of selections (views), therefore, does not accurately reflect interest. It could reflect distribution of breast sizes in the population.

An example of Very Big Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

Second row: Instead of looking at breast appeal as characterized by the total number of views, I tabulate the average number of views per picture of a given breast size. In other words, if there are ten small breast pictures in the top 42 by number of views, then I add the numbers of views of these ten pictures and divide by ten to get an average.

The second row of my table shows that Medium Breasts are preferred. The average number of views of a medium breast photo (in the top 42) is 5.0 million. Very Small is second. Extremely Big is sixth.

An example of Big Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

Third row: For the third row I looked at ranking–Poor=1, Fair=2, Good=3, Very Good=4, and Superb=5. I took the top 63 photos, rated by ranking, and I list how many of each of these photos falls into each breast size category. Big, Very Big, and Medium breasts are ranked highest, but when I looked at the actual ranking number I found little difference. The highest ranked Big Breast photo had a ranking of 4.75, while the highest ranked Very Small Breast photo had a ranking of 4.65.

An example of Small Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

Conclusion: Medium breasts seem to be slightly more appealing, on average, but other than that there isn’t much difference. And anyway, we all have to play the hands we’re dealt. Use the tools you have and play well.

An example of Very Small Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

This analysis is offered with respect for all women, regardless of appearance. Good looking is a bonus. It’s nice that counts.

Girls Sleeping–Perchance to Dream

March 1, 2011 6 comments

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep—
To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil…


To Sleep Perchance to Dream

By Matthew Dyne

I come upon her, sleeping be,
Immersed in dreams of revelry
Her limbs are still, her eyelids twitch
She might be beggar, queen, or witch

I look high—look low—all around
Her raiment’s nowhere to be found
I did not seek to find her thus
My blessings, are they fate or luck?

Her breasts they rise as breaths she breathes
Her form’s as pretty as you please
Of all her gifts I would partake
Yet she’s too precious, for to wake

A Package

by Matthew Dyne

The postman knocked upon my door to say,
“I have a package, 8 stone plus it weighs.”
“But,” I said, “I did not order any.”
“Insured, fragile, worth a pretty penny.”

I frowned but helped him take it off his lorry
Wondering all the while, What’s the story?
I dragged it in to see what gifts I’d reaped
And found within a small girl fast asleep

Surely you can see me in a quandary
I double checked the package, it was for me
I did not to my common sense defer
Instead, shrug, I decided I would keep her

She would not wake but seemed to be at ease
Her cuddly form unclothed it sure did tease
I put her in my bedroom for safekeeping
In case she woke while I was deeply sleeping

I startled in the night and found her near
Her warmth upon me, breath against my ear
In time she did encourage me into her
And, made love as if I always knew her

When morning came she curled up in a chair
And slept again as if she’d ever be there
I washed and cared for her in every way
And through the years she did not age a day

Many girls I’d watched while deep in slumber

Alone…

In pairs…

In groups of many numbers

And though I’d watched them when perhaps I shouldn’t
I never touched a girl who said I couldn’t

The years have come and gone and I do fear
When I’m gone what happens to my dear?
I know a man he’s young, strong, and sweet hearted
And my love and I must soon be parted

I placed her in a new box, I was grim
And sadly I prepared to sneak her to him
But just before I was to see her never
She woke and whispered, “I love you forever.”