Gay Erotic Stories

I hereby disclaim any responsibility for my wife's debts, the actions of my congressman, or anything that happens to you after reading this story if you're not at least 18. My lawyer told me try to limit my liability. Seems one guy was reading a dirty story when his monitor exploded and killed him. His wife is suing the manufacturer, of course. Personally I think he probably came on the screen and blew the tube. But what do I know? ** Special Contest ** The first reader who spots the AMAZING WORD TRICKS repeating "phrase that pays" and notifies me gets to be removed from my mailing list without the usual $50 charge. ** Special Contest ** -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Lingerie Salesman - by MIKE HUNT -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I was a door-to-door insurance salesman once for about 20 minutes. It was another of my many failed careers. Dante was wrong. The deepest circle in hell doesn't belong to the traitors to kin and country, there's a level even deeper. The Tenth circle is reserved for door-to-door salesmen. Because that's a living hell on earth, and THEN you die. I took the insurance job after being fired from my trainee position at the heavy equipment company. I just fucked up too much for them, I guess. I hated being in an office all day anyway. I thought being outside would be better. I was wrong. After two weeks selling insurance door-to-door I knew I had made a mistake, but there weren't any other job offers being waved at me, so I plugged along. I spent the better part of that Friday morning getting doors slammed in my face. I went to lunch. The fast food place where I went was jammed. I waited in line, grabbed my burger and shake, and looked for an available seat. The only place open was at the counter. I balanced my briefcase in one hand and my tray of food in the other and headed for the seat. I couldn't help but notice that I picked a chair right next to a pretty young woman who was eating alone. I tried to make small talk. "You know these burgers will kill your stylish figure," I said. She wasn't offended at all. "Yours too," she said. "Yeah, well, when you're out here slogging the streets, you have to eat and run, you know?" I replied. "You a salesman too?" she asked. "Yep," I said. "You?" "Yes. Been here all week knocking on doors. Just grabbing a burger before I get in the car to drive home. It's almost three hours upstate. Thought I'd get an early start," she told me. "Oh," I replied. I guessed I wouldn't be seeing her again. "What do you sell?" "Lingerie," she answered. "Door-to-door lingerie?" I asked. "I never heard of that." "It's a new company," she replied. "Kind of like a Tupperware thing." "How's it going?" I wanted to know. "Great," she said. "Are you a typical salesman, er, woman for them?" I said, leaning away from her and surveying her up and down. "Yes. Only female sales professionals. Most of us are young, 20's and early 30's. I sell a ton." "I see," I said. "Say, I ran myself ragged this morning looking for Cherry Tree Lane. Look," she said, reaching into her big purse. She pulled out a postcard and handed it to me. It was a business reply card. I flipped it over. "See? Cherry Tree Lane. It's not on my map, nobody I talked to ever heard of it." "Nope," I said, studying the card. In truth, I had stumbled on Cherry Tree Lane just the day before. It was one of those brand new streets in a brand new subdivision. So new that some of the houses didn't even have grass yet. The card had spaces for name, address, marital status, dress size, and a yes or no box for "Please have a sales associate call". In neat hand lettering I saw "Shirley Tipton, 18 Cherry Tree Lane. Married. 6. Yes." as the responses. "Well, a good lead gone bad," she said. I nodded, knowingly. I didn't have a strong memory of 18 Cherry Tree Lane. Nobody had been home when I knocked on the door, and I hadn't marked it for a return visit, since I didn't see any of the things that life insurance guys are trained to look for. You know, like kid's toys laying around, a station wagon, a van, or other signs of a young family. We finished our lunch, and when I tried to get her phone number, she politely declined, saying she was already in a relationship, and anyway, she lived three hours away. She left. It was time for me to get some doors slammed in my face. I thought to myself, "Screw this." I decided to blow off the rest of the day. I got in my car and started driving. I found Cherry Tree Lane and slowly cruised up and back down. There was a car in the driveway at number 18: a hot little Miata, bright red. Not a car an old lady would drive. But then this was not a neighborhood an old lady would choose, either. I was already past the house when a young woman walked out the front door, heading for the driveway. I whipped my head around, but could only get a quick glimpse of her as I motored away. She was lovely. A fiery redhead with a nice figure. I began forming a plan. On Saturday morning I drove to Sinclair, nearly an 80 minute drive. I knew there were a ton of factory outlet stores there; there was always pandemonium in the aisles, and the clerks were glad to do anything just to get you back out. Especially if you were returning something. I found a store that specialized in lingerie, made sure they accepted returns, and then bought almost $500 worth. All size 6. Or Small, if that's how it was labeled. I bought flannel PJs, see throughs, two piece, one piece, teddys, silk tops, satin bottoms. If they sold it, I was buying it. I filled my trunk and drove home. By the time Monday morning rolled around, I was ready. All of the tags had been cut from the clothes and carefully set aside. I packed the lingerie in a suitcase, the best one I had. It was also the largest. I drove up to Cherry Tree Lane. I figured if she wasn't home, I could always just cruise the neighborhood and knock on doors that hadn't been answered last week. Of course I would be trying to sell them life-insurance, not lingerie. Yuk. I really hoped Shirley would be home. As I approached the house, I noted that garage door was up. The Miata was parked to the left, there was an empty space on the right. Good. I pulled up at the curb, took out the suitcase, and carried it to the front door. As I pushed the doorbell I checked myself over. Clean suit, shirt and tie, polished shoes. Very professional. It was only a few seconds before my redhead opened the door. She said "Can I help you?" "Yes," I replied. "I'm here with the lingerie." "You're...what?" she said. "You're from the lingerie company?" "That's right," I lied. "We tried to get here Friday, but didn't make it. Sorry. It's Shirley, right?" She nodded her head. "Yes, That's when they said she'd be here, but no one showed up. Why are you here? The appointment was with a Betty, or Betsy, or some name like that." "We had to let Betty go," I improvised. "She kept missing her appointments, and that really made people mad, you know. They stay home and then no one shows up. Not good. It was too bad, I liked her." It was true. We'd had a nice lunch together. Sort of. My voice lowered conspiratorially. "Confidentially I think she has a drinking problem. A shame. Tsk tsk." "Oh," she said. I was still at the door. Shirley contemplated the situation. "I thought your company only had female sales representatives." "Oh that," I said. I knew this objection was coming. I had an answer ready. "Government stopped that a month ago. Discrimination, and all. Now we have both guys and gals. At first they thought women wouldn't react well to men selling lingerie door-to-door. Guess what? They were wrong. I was sales associate of the week last week!" I told her, looking as proud as I could. I inched closer to the door. "Do you want to see our line? It's really quite lovely." "Well," she hesitated. "I guess it's all right." She opened the door to let me in. I pulled it shut behind me. It took only a few minutes to find a spot on the couch, open the suitcase, and get settled. She sat on the ottoman in front of me. I started with a very conservative full length cotton nightgown. I picked it up by the shoulders and held it up for her to see. "This is a nice number," I said. "Very warm, very soft. Easy to care for.." "Not exactly what I had in mind," she said. "I'm more looking for something for my husband." She realized what she had said and laughed. "I mean, not for him to wear, of course, for me to wear for him." I nodded knowingly. One of the salesman's best tools is silence. I kept my mouth shut. After a moment she continued babbling. "We've been married 5 and a half, almost 6 years, and, uh, I wanted to get some new, uh, things to wear, you know, in the bedroom and around the house." She was telling me that she'd been married long enough for the spark to leave the marriage, and she wanted to get it back. Probably wasn't getting laid, I thought to myself. "Oh, I know just what you want," I said. I reached in and picked out a sexier number. It was a satin top with a pair of matching satin pants. "We have it in beige - we call it Ôchampagne'" I told her and winked, "and in light blue and in a violet. Here, feel." Her hand went out to touch the fabric. "Oh, that's lovely," she said. "Let's put that one aside." I folded it neatly on the couch. I pulled another specimen from my display case. A top and panties combination. On this one the top was more daringly cut, a fact I was sure to point out to her as I held it up. "I personally like the cut of this one," I said. "Very sexy. But I like the satin material on the other one better. It all depends on what you want." "Put it aside, too," she said. We continued the game for nearly 20 minutes. By the time it was over, ten other samples were sitting on the couch, including a lacy teddy, a full length nightie of near sheer black fabric, a white see-though blouse, a bra and panties set, and more. When I brought out the bright red crotchless panties she blushed a deep crimson. I held them up and apart to make sure she could see the hole in the bottom of the panties. I even took my fingers and wiggled them between the legs of the material, as if to emphasize the "crotchless" aspect. And I told her that men went wild over these. She hesitated a few moments before telling me to put them aside too. The only bump in the road we hit was when she asked about our return policy. I explained she was welcome to try anything and everything on, but that once I left, I couldn't accept any returns. "New rules," I said. "You can't return lingerie once it's been worn. Sorry." She didn't like that at all, but I kept distracting her with new and fun things from my magic suitcase, and her objection softened. Finally she said, "Now what?" I said nonchalantly, "Now you try it all on." "In front of you?" she asked, her eyes wide. "Not if you're not comfortable. Don't be silly. Feel free to try them on in the privacy of your bedroom. I'll wait here if you want." I paused. "Of course, I know how these things are supposed to fit, and I do this all day, it's no big deal to me. But whatever you want..." She was uncomfortable, that was clear. She said "Don't be insulted, but, ah, I think I'll try them on in the bedroom. By myself. Can I get you something while you wait?" "Sure, a root beer or whatever. Something cold." She walked into the kitchen and returned a minute later with my drink. She said "I really hope you're not offended. It's just that I, well, you know..." "I know. You don't know me and you're uncomfortable." She smiled, grateful that I had expressed what she was trying to say. "It happens." I paused. "But not that often, frankly. I guess most women don't find me threatening, or whatever. In the last month, I've only had one other woman do it. But, hey, it's fine." Now she felt guilty, like she was accusing me of being a lech, or something. Me? "OK," she said. I had made her wonder if she was being rude. "Wait here." She took the pile of clothes and disappeared into a room just down the hall. I guessed it was a den, or maybe a 1st floor bedroom. I heard movement, the rustling of clothes as she removed the dress she was wearing, and more sounds as she climbed into the first one. "Which one are you trying?" I called out. "The beige one," she called back. "What did you call it? Champagne? It fits really well." "Glad you like it," I said. I paused a moment before continuing. "Are you braless?" There was silence from the room. "I don't mean to get too personal," I said. "I just mean you should wear these things the way you're going to be when you're, uh, wearing these things, you know? Otherwise you won't know how they really fit or look." More silence. I heard her say, "I suppose you're right. Especially with your company's lousy return policy." I could hear her moving about, and I imagined her taking off her bra, and maybe sliding her panties down. "Thanks," she called out. "You were right. It fits completely differently now." "That's OK. I'm trained in this stuff. I have a lot of helpful tips." My tongue had almost stumbled and said "tits." Whew! "We do alterations, no charge," I said. "Really?" she called around the corner. "How's that work?" "Simple. I mark the clothes and take them with me; the alterations take 5 business days, and we mail them to you. No charge." I repeated the offer. I was selling now. "Well," she said. I turned my head to a sound in the den. She peeked around the door, then swung it slowly open. She was standing in the beige top and pants. The champagne satin shimmered, and I thought about how pretty the pajama set was. I already knew how pretty the person inside it was. The top was about an inch short of being long enough to tuck into the pants. The pajama bottoms covered her leg to the ankle, but with such feminine flair that the effect was to enhance the mystery of the woman. "Step over here into the light," I instructed. Her tits bobbled against the top as she walked over to me, I watched the jiggling of her boobs, or rather of the material covering them. I surveyed her up and down. She involuntarily draw her arms up to cover herself. "Tut tut, arms at your sides." I walked around her, and took hold of the material at the back of the top. I pinched it in about an inch, pulling it in, pulling the material tighter across her tits. My fingernail barely made contact with her back. "It should fit like this," I said. She looked down and saw what I saw. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. The color complimented her hair. "I'll take them," she said. "OK," I said. "Wait a minute." I lifted the material that was hanging over her bottom and looked at the back of the pants. She was mortified, but I was calm. I pinched the material in just a little, and said "We'll take this in just a tad, also. OK." My fingers opened and the material slipped out. "Go change." I could see she was relieved that I hadn't done something rude. And now she sort of figured I knew what I was doing, and wasn't an ax murderer or something. She went into the room to change. When she returned she was wearing the second set we had picked out, a top and shorts selection. It was a pale green opaque fabric this time. It was also daringly low cut. Where the champagne set had full length pants, these were just panties, but they still hid all the vital areas from sight. As auburn haired Shirley stepped into the doorway, she looked lovelier than before. She walked over in front of me and turned around, getting used to my gaze. "Turn around again," I said. She did. She probably thought I was checking the fit or something. The truth is I just enjoyed looking at her. "What do you think?" she asked. "I think it's gorgeous," I said. I could tell she was beginning to appreciate the attention. It was probably more than she was getting from her husband. "Tell me, what are your husband's preferences? I mean, if this is for him, and all...." Then I muttered under my breath, "lucky guy" loud enough for her to hear, soft enough to have been a private thought accidentally released. "His preferences. You mean colors?" "No no. You. His preferences about you. Like, does he like your hair, or your, uh, top, or your, uh, bottom, or..." Now it was my turn to feel uncomfortable. I restarted. "I guess I'm asking. Is he a boob man? Or does her prefer butts, or does he just like to, uh, take all your clothes off, or what?" "Oh," she blushed. "He likes boobs. All of them. Mine and everybody else's. I constantly have to smack him when we're out in public. He stares at women's chests all the time." "I see," I said, imitating a pompous doctor I had once known. "He'll like this number, then. Notice how it's so low cut..." I extended my arm; my finger traced the neckline without ever actually touching the material or her. "...and depending on how you move, you can really catch his attention." She looked at me as though I were giving a lesson. "For instance, if you lean forward," I said as I placed my open palm on her back and applied gentle pressure, "the cleavage increases." She tilted slightly. "Of course you knew that. But notice if you twist your shoulder just a little as you tip, what the effect is." She did it. And as she did it, the material in the front fell forward on one side, revealing almost the entire breast before it swung back. "I've always found it sexier for a woman to tease, to show and hide, than to just, you know, take off her clothes." That was true. I always liked to look at partially clothed women more than just butt naked ones. Well, butt naked ones are fun too, but you know what I mean. "Try it again." She did, and my eyes darted into the top to catch a glimpse of her bouncing tittie. "What about the fit? Isn't it too loose, like the other one?" she asked. "Oh no, this one is completely different. This one is supposed to be loose. In fact, the looser the better. If you're going to do more than just wear it, I mean really use it to attract your man, you want it to flow at the appropriate moments. We might even want to let it out a little. Here, let me see." I stood behind her. My hands flew up to the buttons holding the straps in the back. I released them, but held the straps in my fingers. I let them slip about an inch. The whole thing slid down. "See?" I said. "Sexier yet. These things are tools, not just clothes. You want to get your man going? You have to work at it." She stood quietly in front of me. I could see her bending her head down, trying to look down her own cleavage. My view from behind was better. After a time she said "You're very good, you know? You really know your stuff." "Thanks," I said. "All in a day's work," I thought. "I'll have them reposition the buttons, if you want," I said. "I think it looks great, a little lower." She agreed. Her voice cracked as she told me order that one, too. She went to change into another outfit. I heard rustling, then nothing. Then rustling, then nothing. "What's up?" I called out. "Nothing," she yelled back. "I'm trying on the bra and panties. I don't care what you say, I know how a bra and panties are supposed to fit." "No problem," I answered cheerily. I heard more rustling. She came out of the room in a full length black nightgown. She was covered to her shoulders, but it was the sexiest look yet, because the material was so thin. While you couldn't actually see anything, it gave the illusion that you were about to see everything. It was fabulous. I sucked in my breath. "Wonderful," I managed to say. She had the lacy white bra and panties in her hand. She walked over to me and said "The bra's too tight. It's a B cup, and I'm a little bigger. I usually get a C, although sometimes that's a little loose for me." "OK, scratch the bra," I said. She giggled. "Salesman's joke," I said. "How about this one?" she asked. "It's fantastic," I answered. "The best yet." "How does it fit?" she wanted to know. "Depends on you. Either you love it or you don't. Can't make alterations on that particular model. If you notice, it's one continuous piece of fabric, all the way from the drawstring at the neck down to your ankles. I honestly don't know how they make it. It's like a giant tube that they cut off, or something." "Oh," she said. She sounded disappointed, like I wasn't going to help her with this one. She was wrong. "But let me show you something. Walk over here." I led her to a position in front of the patio door which led to the side of her house. There was a hedge fence just a few feet away, but there was plenty of light streaming through the door. I stepped back to look. With the light behind her, the black gauze allowed the shape beneath it to show through perfectly, without actually turning transparent. This was a special effect worthy of Hollywood. On stage it's called a scrim. I call it fucking fabulous. "Do you see it?" She shook her head. I stood there and continued to look. "Here," I said. I walked over to her and took hold of some of the material. "Be calm now," I said. I lifted the material high enough that her knees were showing, but all I was really doing was putting my hand behind it, and pulling it out far enough that she could see the effect. Now backlit in front of the door, she could see the outline of my hand, finger by finger, as I held the material. Her eyes got as big as saucers. "You mean you can see..." "You were looking..." "This is so thin...." "But I looked at it in the bedroom, and you can't see through it at all." "I know," I said. "It all depends on where the light is. I would suggest you wear it for your husband...what's his name, anyway?..." "Dick," she said. I gulped. "Dick," I repeated, blinking rapidly. "I know. He gets teased about it all the time," Shirley said. "OK, so when you're trying to get some attention from Dick, you wear this, and you just happen to walk in front of a table lamp now and then. Don't just stand there, because the interest is highest at first. It's like when you can see something that you're not supposed to, you know?" "I see," she answered. "I can't believe I'm standing here in front of you like this." I moved to the side. "It all depends on what's behind you. Now I can't see a thing." Well, that wasn't totally true. Her tits were still pushing out the front of the gown, and I could tell that her nipples had changed shape from just a few moments earlier. "I'll take it," she said. "Told you I was associate of the week last week. Love to make it two weeks in a row." She returned to the bedroom, and in a flash was back out the door. She wasn't nearly so modest anymore. This time she was in a white, almost see-through teddy. Her nipples were outlined in the thin material, and their deep red color showed through. Her public hair also deepened the color of the material, I could tell she shaved herself to a "V". Probably wears a hip-cut bikini to the beach, I thought to myself. "OK, Mr. Lingerie. Do your magic." She liked me now. "Don't need to do a thing with this one. It fits perfectly. Holds your bust exactly in the right place..." I was openly staring at her tits. "Compliments your thin waistline..." My gaze moved down. "And I assume you saw the snaps at the bottom. They're adjustable..." She shrieked. "You don't have to show me. I'll figure it out." "Of course," I said, sounding offended that she would even think I would try a moronic trick like that. What did she take me for, anyway!?! "Next," I called out. She walked out in a shiny lime green short halter top and panties. The cut of this particular suit was quite unusual. Her shoulders were bare, but there was a collar around her neck and a triangular piece of fabric which completely hid her chest. From a sharp point at her neck it flared to the sides, and then wrapped around back where it fastened like a bra. But the effect was electric, because the material simply hung down over her tits and ended. I estimated there was three inches of material from the point where her nipples pushed against the fabric to the bottom of the material. There was no elastic; the material just hung there in space. The effect was to make her look like some half-dressed majorette in the high school band. I watched her tits jiggle as she walked into the room. "Another amazing piece of clothing," I said as I surveyed her. "You really like it?" she said. "I REALLY like it," I answered. "You think Dick will like it?" she said. "Dick already loves it," I answered. She looked down at my trousers. It wasn't the first time she had glanced there, but it was the first time she let her eyes linger. There was no mistaking my condition. A blind man, er, woman, could have seen it. Her voice dropped. "Doesn't this job, sort of, get to you?" She paused. "I mean, does it affect you?" She knew it did. She had just looked. I walked around behind her, just a few inches back. "Oh sure, sometimes. I mean, I'm human, you know? It's a natural thing, I think. In some ways it's actually helpful, because it helps me sell. For instance," I paused. "Raise your arms." She did so without a question. My hands came up around her from behind, as though I were her golf instructor or something. My hands fluttered to the material hanging from her breasts, and I pinched it between my fingers. I lifted the material an inch, then two, until the bottom slopes of her soft feminine mounds were revealed. I hadn't touched her yet. I held the material in place, and cricked my neck to look around the side. The bottoms of her hanging breasts were clearly visible. The only thing the material hid was her nipples, and it must have been within a fraction of those. My voice was clearly strained as I said "No woman salesman is going to know how sexy, correction, how sexual this looks to a man. But I know." She moved forward, and there was momentary contact between my fingers and the bottom of her tits. I couldn't tell if the move was accidental or purposeful. It didn't matter. "So if you want to know, yes, I get affected. I am particularly affected right now." I moved forward. I felt my straining dick brush against the back of her thigh, and I moved back. She sighed. Then she said, "Don't you think you could alter this top to be just a little bit shorter?" I lifted it up another quarter of an inch. The circle of red began to show beneath the hanging fabric. "A little shorter?" she pleaded again. I raised it another quarter of an inch. Now nearly the entire bottom of her nipple was showing. In fact, only the very hard tip was still shielded by the shiny material. She stepped back into me again. My boner made stronger contact this time. "I'll take them," she said, stepping away. "Great, great," I mumbled. I had missed my moment. She fairly ran to the bedroom and said "I'm going to try on the red ones. I hope they'll be good." "I promise they'll be good," I sang out. The red ones were the last ones we'd selected. I wiggled my fingers at the memory. She walked into the room, now strutting, and now inhibition free. I stared at her. The top was nothing more than a band of gauze which held her tits in place. It was virtually transparent, if a bright red, and had a clasp between her tits, causing the thin band to squeeze even more narrowly at that point. The clasp was just a snap, if I remembered correctly. The bottom half of the outfit was the same bright red, the same see through material, but of course, I knew it was an open crotch design. While she was standing, you couldn't see the opening. It was just big enough to allow the woman to piss without taking it off, or to allow something to travel the other direction without interference. That's what I had in mind. "The best yet," I said. "You just keep getting better and better. Come over here." I reached out with two fingers and touched the material covering her tits. Her nipples were at full attention, and were trying to poke their way through the wispy fabric. I rubbed my fingers lightly across the tissue. I felt a bump in the smooth cloth where her ruby tip had hardened. She looked at me as I stroked her, and then I felt her hand searching the front of my pants for my hardness. It wasn't difficult to find. She grasped me. The firmness of her squeezes surprised me repeatedly. It was only then, then that I surely knew what Shirley knew. It had been a very very long long time since she had had Dick's dick. I felt the feeling over and over again and again. I repeated the stroke of my fingers, and as they scraped across her nipple, she closed her grasp on me. My fingers broadened and I put my full hand around her aching tit. My other hand came up her leg, pushing between her thighs. She cocked one knee, opening her legs, slightly, and my hand flew to its waiting destination. "Here. Let me show you how this works," I said. My fingers found her wetness through the hole in the panties and I began to stroke her. "Easy access, that's the virtue of this particular outfit. As you can see, the top is thin, and your breasts stand out like beautiful treasures. And between your legs, the material is completely cut away..." The skin of my fingertips was dancing against the skin of her clitoris. She let go of my shaft and fumbled for my zipper. I went on. "...to allow complete access..." she lowered the zipper and stuck her hand inside my pants "...for any situation..." She found my cock, and I felt the coolness of her hand wrap around the hardness of my manhood. She pulled me free. "For instance..." I stepped toward her and slipped my hard shaft between her thighs. As I moved back and forth, I felt my the length of my dick scraping against her pussy lips, and I felt her wetness drip down over my tool, moistening the shaft like hot butter over asparagus. "As you can see..." I was straining now, "...it allows perfect skin to skin contact, and, uh..." I pulled my pelvis back, and using my free hand aimed my cock up at a 45 degree angle "...even complete penetration without removing the clothing." With both of us standing there, it was awkward, but we were both doing our best to make it work. I slid most of the way into her moistened love box, but because of the angle couldn't quite get all the way in. I put my hands under her ass and lifted. She understood. She wrapped her legs around me, and I pushed into her. She hung on my shoulders, and I supported her with my hands under her ass. We bounced off one another again and again as I rammed my prick into her willing snatch. She bent her head down to watch me hide the salami as I slid deep into her, then pulled out, then pushed back in again. In a few moments I got tired; I was supporting all of her weight and mine, after all, and my arms began to ache. I began a clumsy walk over to the ottoman. "Would you mind if I knelt down here?" I said to her. "You can do anything you want," she said, bouncing her pelvis up and down my light pole as I walked. I knelt, putting her butt down on the stuffed piece of furniture. That took her weight off of me, but also restricted her ability to bounce against me. I moved her to the edge, and began banging away at her. "I just had to have a few minutes with my hands on these tits," I said, looking her in the eye. My hands flew to her breasts. " Two hands for two tits," I said stupidly as I squeezed each one. "It's nice how that works out." There was another pause where the only sound was the slop slop slop of my dick banging into and back out of her cunt. "I love your tits," I said. "They're two of your best features." "What are the others?" she said in a husky voice. "Beautiful red hair," I answered, pushing my face into it. "Pretty face. No, make that gorgeous face," I whispered in her ear. She looked up at me and batted her eyes. "Great lips," I said, bending my head down and kissing them lightly. "Smooth complexion." I stroked my cheek against hers. "Nice neck." I nuzzled her. "Sexy fingers." She looked at me, puzzled. "I remember," I answered. "You were holding me a minute ago." "Oh," her eyes seemed to say. I continued boffing her. "Killer ass," I said. "I remember that, too." "Oh, and incredible ... delicious ... unbelievable ... fantastic ... wild ... gotta-have-it ... wet and juicy cunt." She came, suddenly, without warning. I could feel the contractions of her vagina as it tried to milk the sperm from my body. It squeezed and squeezed, as though it was a pair of farmer's hands coaxing the milk from a cow's teat. It squeezed my rod again, and a warm flush enveloped her. Her nipples got as hard a bing cherries, and I watched as her chest, then neck, and finally cheeks flushed with her excitement. It was too much for me, and I stopped my movements and froze. I wanted to feel my dick pump into her pussy, and I sat motionless as my orgasm crested. I was a like a statue, touching her with only my hands covering her heaving jugs, and with my dick, which was buried as far inside her cunt as I could get it. I felt my balls twitch, and knew they were about to deliver their cargo, up through my dick into her waiting hole. I felt the first contraction. As I closed my eyes in the agony and ecstasy of orgasm, I saw her staring into my face, watching me as I pumped my cum into her. I pumped, then pumped again. I lost all track of time and space. All of my senses were focused on that seven inches of meat which was nestled tightly in its warm cocoon, feeling it perform its mission. I pumped again, and again, and once more, then collapsed on top of her. My hands fell from her tits. We stayed like that for a minute. Maybe two. I had my head resting sideways on her shoulder, when I felt her blow a soft breeze into my ear. It woke me up. I was still inside her, even though my organ was now shrinking. But I didn't want to leave, and she made no attempt to move. "So like I was saying," I said between my heavy breaths... "Oh shut up, Mr. Lingerie salesman of the week," she said. "I'm going to make you door-to-door salesman of the month. As long as you deliver." She was quiet, then said softly under her breath, "and boy do you deliver." She sighed heavily. "I hope Dick..." I interrupted. "Anytime you want dick, you just call me," I said. I hoped she would. I found a new career that day; I never sold life insurance again. I started selling lingerie door-to-door. I made a lot of sales. Three months later I declared bankruptcy. It's tough to make a living when you can only get it up for one or two appointments a day, you know? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- MIKE HUNT writes about real life experiences. Well, sometimes I have to add a little here or there to make a story work. The part that's true about this story is that I did get fired from a heavy equipment company. The rest I just made up. But the story's been in my head for years, and it seems so real it almost could have happened. Yeah, come to think of it, it probably did happen. Yeah, in 1987, I think. For more MIKE HUNT stories, send me an e-mail. All of your friends already have. I even have a message here from your girlfriend, somewhere. Is she 18 yet? Please direct bouquets and flames to M1ke@hilarious.com . Please note that the 2nd character in M1KE is a "one" (1) not an "eye" (I). Thanks. For a complete selection of my stories visit . Copywrite 1997 M1KE HUNT. You can distribute this by computer or whatever, as long as you don't charge. Trash should be free. Oh. And just kidding about the $50 fee to get off the list. It's actually only $10. Just kidding. It's only $5. For a limited time. Just kidding.