Friendsex

Both were naked, socks off.

She positioned herself on the large and comfortable pillow-chair. He positioned his body in front of hers, on his knees. She spread her legs. He hooked the backs of her knees in the crooks of his arms and lifted her legs, spreading them wider. She guided him in, and then he began slow, deliberate full-length strokes.

They looked directly into each others eyes. “Jesus…that feels good!” He said.

“You bastard!” She said.

He laughed.

“Why a bastard?” He said

“Because every time I’m on my way to visit you, I promise myself we won’t start fucking as soon as I’m through the door, and…ooooh sooo good… here we are!”

“Mmmm…don’t you like it anymore?”

“You know I do. But it makes me feel kinda like a whore…just here for sex.”

“We both know you’re not a whore,” he said.

She laughed.

“I kinda like feeling like one, though,” she said. “Do it a little faster. Damn, you feel huge today!”

“Huge?”

“Yeah, you feel even bigger than you normally do. I love your cock…uh, I’m already getting close.”

He chuckled.

“Mmm…I’m getting close too. I’ve missed you. What about it do you love?”

“Its size, its shape…it fills me just right…um, I’m real close! You close? Come when I do, please.”

“I like it best when you come first,” he said.

She giggled.

“Whores aren’t supposed to come…but screw me like I am one. Now! Come with me, now!”

He did. Then they kissed and cuddled for awhile, his weight resting on her.

Later dressed, they went for a long walk in the cold, snowy day. They talked, they laughed---unconditional friends.

Bug Tails - "Bug Went Camping"

When the seasons caused me to transition my wardrobe for cold winter and spring to one for summer warmth, my anticipation of dedicated outdoor activities heightened. It was time to pull the winter tarps off the boat and the camper, haul them from the back-lot up onto the garage patio, and make them ready for their intended enjoyment of water and woods. Bug, my dog, decided to participate.

Our pop-up/tent camper was first to be readied, but the thing must have been a bit intimidating to Bug when I first brought it to the front of the garage. He approached it with caution, growling deeply in challenge. It didn’t run away, so Bug trotted to it and peed on the tires. One soaking was not enough. He circled the damn thing three times, squirting with each pass.

I cranked the upper tent portion of the unit up then pulled out the beds at each end. I set the “stuff” stored inside the unit onto the garage patio. Bug facilitated the unloading process by jumping on, or nipping at, each item as it was removed. Once the interior was empty of clutter, he bounded inside to sniff-check every crack and corner. That chore completed, he selected a spot in the center of a bed and curled-up for a nap. Bug was ready to go on his first camping trip.

We went camping. Two days later we arrived at our favorite campground and claimed our favorite campsite. My wife staked out Libby and Bug (facility leash rules), then unloaded all of the “go-camping-stuff” from the truck. My job was to position and set up the camper.

All during our preparations of camp, old Libby snoozed in the sun…nothing new about camping for her. Bug, on the other hand, bounced about like a ping pong ball. Good gosh, there were new squirrels, birds, adults, kids, dogs, a cat or two…and a gazillion new trees. “The trees”, Jesus, over the next couple of days Bug would drag me to almost all of them.

Camp ready, we picked up the pooper-scooper, leashed the poopers, then went for the first walk around the campground. Old Libby just plodded along minding and doing her own business. Bug…well, I’m sure you can imagine that picture.

Evening arrived with the campfire snapping and crackling, and ready for cooking. The wife and I each ate two hotdogs. Libby and Bug devoured one each. The wife and Bug had roasted marshmallows for dessert. God, Bug, what a mess!

After a long day we all retired to the camper for bed. My wife and I are bigger than average. I’m a couple of inches over six feet and my wife is almost six foot tall. Libby is a big dog, almost 100 pounds. Add Bug at 30 pounds, and it was a comical shuffle for maneuvering position in the small confines of the pop-up to get ready for bed. Um, there were also the dog’s farts….

A hard struggle later, I was under the covers in the bed into which I must literally crawl. On my stomach reading a western paperback, the wife beside me reading a book of fairy tales, and Bug stretched out on the opposite side of her, I felt and thought it a nice comfortable camping moment. Libby was curled around herself on the floor and directly in front of the porta-potty. That was an issue I’d have to deal with later.

About midnight, my nose bouncing on the pages of my book, I decided to turn out the light and give-in to sleep. I reached across my wife for the switch on the hanging tent-light and apparently disturbed Bug’s sleep. He groaned and rolled over against the canvas side-wall of the bed.

SWOOOOSH!...Bug was gone, disappeared.

THUD!...something hit hard on the ground below---Bug had just fallen through the bottom of the bed’s canvas side wall.

Next, squeals and cries of a dog seemingly being tortured filled the night air! Aw, Shit!

Almost injuring myself, I scrambled out of that small confining space of bed and landed with one foot hard on Libby’s tail. She started yelping!

I succeeded in getting outside just as Bug was getting up on all-four’s. He seemed dazed but not severely wounded. Seconds later my wife and Libby stumbled out of the camper to aid in the rescue. Neighboring campers were rushing over from their late night camp fires. The night security lady arrived on her golf cart.

Bug shook, circled a couple of times the spot where he landed, then trotted over to the nearest tree to cock his leg. Bug was okay.

It being obvious that the dog had survived, everyone’s focus shifted elsewhere…on me. Along with the laughter and finger pointing of my wife and the neighboring campers, the night security lady looked at me, and with a big smile (or smirk), said, “Umm…maybe you’re a little chilly?” I said, “Yes, Ma’am,” and quickly went into the camper.

You see, Bug and I both sleep in the buff.

bastard moon

Full moon, you ugly bastard!
Shining down upon me the big piss-yellow eye.

Full moon, you wart covered whore.
Dripping down upon me the shadows of your smuttiness.
You push and pull against my rationale.
You ebb away my sanity.

Full moon, you evil bitch.
Trashing my good being to dried waste.

Full moon, you brutal prick.
Ripping out my heart and crushing it back to dirt.
You stomp upon my love.
You butcher my compassion.

Full moon, you ugly bastard!

First Coupling

The heat of their passion approached its extreme. He longed to plunge deep into her, fill her with his seed. No, this was their first coupling, he intended to make it last, linger as long as he could. Her wetness overflowed; he was hard as steel, throbbing, so he pushed her stroking hand away. She tugged on his body, her signal, she was ready

He descended into the narrow warm tunnel of silkiness, gliding slowly toward the bottom. Her inner muscles gave-way then reformed snuggly around the one of his as it moved on down. Subtle contractions inside her began to eat away his resolve.

He stopped movement. He lay quietly atop her and inhaled the clean freshness of her neck and long tresses of her hair. Her stone-hard nipples indented his chest. The heat from her core pulsed around the source of their intimate connection.

He slowly withdrew, but stopped short just inside fleshy lips to stay at the threshold of woman’s door to ultimate welcome. Her saturated mound of hair tickled and teased, and he struggled greatly to restrain.

He began another slow decent, stopping briefly in increments of delicious torment. She sighed, filling with his thickness. He groaned from the intensity of his need. She begged him not to tease. He muttered…………”

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Um, maybe you’d like to write the next lines?