Riding on someone's power boat, I was sitting with the doctor
when his guest, also his nurse, broke off conversation with my date,
the anesthesiologist, to offer us men some lunch. She brought salad over and doled out a bowl for each of us. Then she asked me, regarding my choice of dressing, "Italian or French?"

I said "Both."

She looked up at me, startled, and almost replied, but bit her tongue.
I could tell it would have been good.

Her date said "I think she's referring to the salad dressing."

I didn't amend my order.

Talking with a friend about a woman we both met a few years ago, who had great big titties, I asked if he remembered Tamera. He said "Strong back?" I said yeah. Best way I ever heard big titty phrased.

I used to carry a nude picture of my wife in my wallet, as well as a picture of my crotch with my shorts pulled aside and my dick swollen and lengthened.

In a little shop, I opened my wallet for a credit card and the woman at the counter shot out her hand and grabbed my wallet when she saw the picture of my dick. She asked "Can I see it?" I said yes and took the picture out and handed it to her.

She held it with both hands, close up to her face and studied it intensely for minutes on end in silence. Finally, another customer came in and she handed it back to me. I left but came back the next day and just took out the picture and handed it to her. Her wedding ring glittered as her hands shook slightly.

She was Mexican and young and pretty. On the third day I came in, I handed her the picture again and soon a big, old, angry looking Mexican man kind of burst in as if trying to catch us at something. He was her husband and he was suspicious as hell. I just sat on the stool, studying a catalogue while she had somehow hidden the picture before he saw her looking at it. He stayed, said a few words, glared at me, I looked mildly back, feeling no concern, perhaps stupidly, and after about five minutes of catalogue shopping, I left. He stayed.

I imagined what went on in their marriage and what he'd said to her after I left, and what she had said to him. Had she been able to hide the guilt in her eyes? What was she thinking of at night, beside and under him in bed?

I waited a week or so, then went back in one more time, and handed her the picture again. This time, I stayed kind of briefly, smiled at her, got up and left forever, leaving the picture with her. A memento of our affair.

I snuck a look into a living room where my wife was blowing a man and he sat on his couch, naked, legs spread wide while she knelt naked on all fours with her mouth over his dick and he dribbled her head up and down on his dick like a basketball, high speed, just kept doing it and doing it -- i didn't want to make them self-conscious, didn't want them to stop, so I snuck back away but I'd pay to watch that or even see pictures with the head a blur.

I took her to Coot's Lake, the nudist place outside Denver, Colorado one afternoon.

Even there, we walked until we were isolated at the very end of the rocky shore before we stripped and she lay down on the bare ground, gorgeous, built, real hourglass figure and wearing makeup with her hair coiffed.

I noticed a family of four came and lay their blanket very near ours. They had a little boy and a little girl, about 7-8 years old.

A line of voyeurs had followed us from the parking lot, wanting to see my wife strip (and they did), and they called out a few things, lewd but not insulting.

I waded into the lake about waist-deep and the little boy waded in as well. After a few seconds, I felt a sharp nip on my dick and then another and another and another. I covered my crotch with my hand and asked the boy "what is biting on me?" He said "Fish," and when I looked closely, I could see a lot of 6-inch fish milling around right in front of my groin. It's a wonder they were burrowing in my asshole.

I got out of the water to escape the dick piranhas -- noticed the little boy stayed in and did not cover his crotch! The couple were shy and could not look my way. Their little girl stood as the parents sat, and she posed variously, one pose after another, as if modelling for me.

When I looked back at my wife, a young guy about 14, naked, was crouched near her head, talking down to her intensely. She was murmuring something back which I could not hear. He suddenly sprinted away and returned immediately with a camera.

I sat 20 feet away while the girl posed and the teenage boy took pictures of my nude wife. I saw her spread her legs a little at a time until her thighs were wide open and her hairy pussy and belly and thighs were fully revealed to the boy's camera. Her hips rolled around sensuously and I wished he could feel her, knowing how wet she would be.

He got close enough that he was actually kneeling between her feet taking pictures of her hole while the voyeurs watched in silence, drinking beer.

Felt like most of us were fucking in our minds for about an hour. I won't say what happened.

tough, short, stout man-looking lesbian women who dressed in combat boots, blue jeans with the legs rolled up a few folds, and short-sleeved shirts with a pack of cigarettes rolled into one sleeve and hair short and greased back in a "duck's ass" cut used to call themselves "diesel daggers" for a little while.

One of the most obscure bits of sex slang I ever heard. I know lesbians and they have started calling themselves "diesel" so I told a few groups of them about dd and they were all shocked and laughed. couldn't believe i knew so much about their underground. i went into a lesbian bar by accident one night in Atlanta on Ponce de Leon Ave, late, out walking, nothing to advertise that it was a bar, but i heard the jukebox and voices as I passed

went in and ordered a drink from a thin man-looking woman wearing glasses with that short hair like a 1950s straight man. i noticed the beertender took awhile to get down to me. i didn't know all the people in there were women. the women women looked dolled up, traditionally feminine, lipstick, nice clothes, real soft and girly.

noticed a few burly, kind of short guys gravitate near me and after i got my drink, i noticed a few othr burly, short kinda guys come down by me and seem to be heading off the other rough trade. that's when i realized i was being crowded, and
later i caught on that i was going to be jumped and maybe stomped.

some of them saved me from the others. One of them came to me and said "I know you don't mean any offense. You're just having a drink. But this is a woman's bar. You aren't really supposed to be in here. No offense. You seem nice."

I said "A woman's bar? But I see other men here."

She said "Those are all women. Diesel daggers, you know what I mean?"

I finally got wise. Said "OHHHH! I see! OK. I'm gone. Thank you for saving me an ass-whipping and please tell everybody I meant no offense," and I hit the door, never to return, always to recall.

I love you in your negligee,
I love you in your nightie,

but when moonlight flits
across your tits?

By Christ all fucking mighty!!!

-- World War One Brit soldiers' homesick blues song snippet

One day in about 1983, I told a small-time producer, Jerry Abrahms, that the world was waiting and he would make a billion dollars if he would simply combine nordic blondes with extremely dark black men, and especially if he would get one of those blondes gang-banged in every hole.

He said "You're crazy. I'd get busted in The South" (U.S.). I laughed and told him "The South is where you will make your fortune! Think about it!!"

He say "All those racist laws down there? I'd spend the rest of my life in court."

I reminded him all racist laws were unconstitutional, he would be a hero if they did take him to court, he would win, and he would be master of a gold mine. (I should have done it myself, but I was a resource, rather than a miner.)

I told him 'think about the white massa, his woman sneaking out, blowing a big black field hand. Worsest nightmare of any racist man and greatest fantasy of many white women and black men. The law doesn't have the guns to hold back the business you will do with this."

He looked at me with an ancient cynicism, as if I was insane and he found me most unpleasant.

A month or so later, the best director, Ralph White, called and asked me to tell him about the idea. He hired Lili Marlene go eat King Paul, who used to dance for James Brown, Maurice, who had a nasty, really long, thin peter, the kind that unlocked the womb deep in the pussy, and Strong Back Ed, who had the body of a pro football player and kept his face hidden at all times during filming.

Her mouth was slavering from the time I brought her to Ralph's and watched her ass swivel upstairs in electric blue spandex pants, which she didn't need.

Got to come back to this one...

She was a real nice lady. Very refined and traditionally feminine. I enjoyed playing with that.

Leaving a diner one night, I sang "I wrote my baby's number on the shithouse wall!" in a very guttural tone, grinning at her.

She cried "Oh, for God's sake, Thing!!!"

I hadn't really done it, but I offered to go back and erase it, even turning back, but she
tugged me along by my hand and exclaimed "It's too late now!"

It wasn't too late. I had just done it, supposedly.

I realized she didn't mind me writing her number on the men's room wall, or even liked it.

One asked me, much too soon, "So if we keep sleeping together, are you going to sleep with other women?"

"As many as I possibly can," I said, absent-mindedly, and was asked to go.