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“My god, Glenn, who are those girls? They’re so sexy. They make me feel so inadequate!”
My live-in girlfriend, Samantha, was looking over my shoulder while I was browsing through vintage porn pictures on my laptop.
“Stop pouting, Samantha. You have a fabulous body at least as sexy as these girls. Anyway, these are pictures from years ago. I was obsessed with one of the girls for a while. All of these porn stars are older now and out of porn, but I still like watching some of the classic videos because they usually have a silly story line in them.”
“Who was it that you obsessed over?”
“Let me scroll down. Oh here, I’ve got dozens of this girl.”
“She doesn’t look a day older than eighteen!” Samantha crowed.
“Are you jealous?”
“In a way but I can’t imagine someone just out of high school doing porn.”
“She’s fifty now so don’t worry your pretty little head over her.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll be fifty someday, so I need to appreciate the body I have now.”
“You have lots to appreciate, Sam. Hey, how old were you when you started screwing your boyfriend?”
“Hey, I didn’t have a real boyfriend until college, and we weren’t making porn films. I haven’t even been in a movie.”
“Have you ever wanted to be in movies? You’re sexy and pretty enough to be an actress. Your body is exactly what men fantasize over.”
“You mean my nude body? Are you talking about me doing porn?”
“I didn’t say that. Have you ever thought about it?”
“No, well maybe a little. Every girl likes to have her body admired so I guess I have wondered what it was like being photographed.”
“Yes, I guess.”
“I don’t know about that but maybe.”
“How many guys have you screwed, Sam?”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“I don’t know. I just thought I’d ask. I mean we’ve been together for a couple of months so it’s time to tell a few secrets from our past.”
“Well, you are only my third boyfriend. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“You’re spinning it Sam. How many?”
“I didn’t count.”
“You mean probably more.”
“Okay, stop the inquisition. I’ve fucked a couple of dozen guys, but they didn’t mean anything. They were just one-night stands. Come on, Glenn, that’s how you and I hooked up. Maybe you were my thirtieth, I don’t know. I haven’t kept count.”
“Now that we’re telling secrets, Sam, I have to admit I fantasized about that girl and collected dozens of her pictures. But then I met you and you reminded me of her. Even your incredible tits are like hers. You are beautiful and sexy Samantha exactly like that girl.”
“Maybe you should let me decide about that. Show me her other pictures.”
We sat together for a half-hour watching my slide show of vintage porn stars and a couple of video clips.
“Okay, there is a similarity to that girl you fantasized over,” Sam admitted. “The only real difference is I’m shaved and she’s not.”
I burst out with laughter and said, “That’s the way most porn stars were back then. Now men like the clean look and there are very few porn stars with a bush. Even the men are shaved. It makes their dick and balls look bigger.”
“I like it when a man is shaved,” she said.
“Let’s go in the bathroom after we’re finished here, and you can shave me bald.”
Being a hairless ape made me as hard as granite when I took her to the bedroom. We went three rounds with me cumming every time and Samantha having a half dozen orgasms. My sack was as dry as a prune when I fell asleep. It would be three days to fully recover before Samantha and I had sex again.
Before dozing off, I asked Sam, “Okay, how would you feel about doing some modeling?”
She wrinkled her nose and said, “How do you mean? Like the girls on your computer?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I’d do it but just for fun.”
During the weekend, we decided to copy the poses we liked from my laptop and make a sequence of similar pictures. We started with Samantha in the living room where she knelt on the sofa with her ass up to the camera so I could get views of her pussy lips from behind. There were more photos from various angles on a leather chair pushing up her tits. In the kitchen, she sat on a tall stool holding a dishtowel that covered little of her body while looking domestic.
It took a little prodding to get her to spread her legs for pussy shots. Once she agreed to show it to the camera, all the remaining pictures included her twat from one angle or another.
In the bedroom, I had her put on a long necklace that fell around her breasts while she lifted her breasts licking her nipples.
Samantha wanted pictures of her wearing her sexiest lingerie that were opened enough to reveal the important parts of her body. I had her pull aside her panties to expose her puffy slit, then use her fingers to open it for some of my favorite poses. She turned in different arap escort directions to display every corner of her luscious body. The last few were her idea. She wanted a couple of pictures with her favorite toy. When she had the We-Vibe inside her, she gave me her cell and turned on the app. I had complete control of the vibrations and stimulation she felt. This led to a few selfies of us together.
I took some a half dozen shots of Samantha riding cowgirl on my cock and finishing the photographic afternoon cumming deep inside her. Samantha said that the combination of my throbbing cock and her pulsing toy was the best part of the afternoon.
The next day we loaded the pictures onto my computer and deleted those we thought weren’t good enough for our photo gallery. I hadn’t noticed while snapping the pictures that Samantha mimicked lewd facial expressions from my porn collection. So, the series had a real authentic look and Sam might easily be confused for a porn star. After editing, we were left with three dozen stimulating photographs.
Samantha was happy with the results and said it made her feel good about herself. I agreed but wondered if other people would agree. I decided to find out what the Internet community thought of Samantha and posted our pictures on a site called “iPostErotica.” Our gallery was called “Faux Vintage Porn.”
The responses were overwhelming. With forty-seven people viewing and rating the pictures, Sam received an average score of 9.87 out of ten. I can’t figure out why it wasn’t ten of ten. Apparently, two voters were jealous women. Forty-five people agreed with me and rated her a ten!
I would have celebrated these results with Sam except that she didn’t know they had been posted on the Internet. I guess I should have asked for her approval because eventually, she found out.
“How did you find out?” I asked after she raged at me for most of an hour.
“My ex-boyfriend sent me an e-mail. He said I looked like a slut.”
“I see why you dumped him. He’s not a nice guy.”
“Neither are you, Glenn.” She moved out the next day. My girlfriends always seem to have a short shelf life. I was a bachelor once again.
I’d like to say that hooking up with a new girlfriend was easy. After Samantha left, it didn’t go well. Going home without a woman in the apartment was a lonely existence. The bars were full of available girls but either they were with a date or were unlikely to attract a date.
This went on for what scientists call a half-life with no end in sight, except that nothing is forever. A cousin of mine asked me to be a groomsman at his wedding. Porter was my age and we were pals in high school. Even then, I was surprised he asked me to be in the wedding. I was happy to do it. Porter was such a great guy and it was hard to say no to him.
Porter’s wedding was only the second time I had worn a tuxedo and it gave me a James Bond in Monte Carlo look. The bride was beautiful as brides tend to be on these occasions and the bridesmaids looked splendid as well, especially one woman.
The evening before the wedding, I was invited to the rehearsal dinner with the wedding party, parents, and a few of the couple’s friends. Among the girls at the dinner was Jessica, a bridesmaid. She was easy on the eyes with short pixie hair and fair skin. She reminded me of Meg Ryan in “You’ve Got Mail,” although Jessica had a regal look as if she was a princess. That would have been enough for me to introduce myself, but it was her legs that attracted me the most. They were half her body. She glided when she walked, and her hips swung like a model on the runway. Oh, how I wanted to get between those glorious legs.
I wasn’t able to introduce myself at the dinner but pulled Porter aside and asked about her. “I don’t know her very well, Glenn,” he said. “She’s the first cousin of my fiancé. I think she is married or was married. I really don’t know, Glenn.” If Jessica was married, her husband was a no show at the wedding and reception. This gave me the incentive to find out.
After the cake cutting and endless photos at the reception, the DJ began playing slower songs giving the older folks a chance at the dance floor. Meanwhile, I came up with a plan. It needed perfect timing. Jessica had just left a group photo on her way to the table where she left a glass of Champagne. Before she could pick up the glass, I stole a kiss, literally! I pressed my lips on her cheek for a quick peck and smiled.
She was startled with a confused expression on her lovely face when she looked at me. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet but rumor has it that you are a cousin of the bride. I’m the cousin the groom. That makes us kissing cousins,” and I gave her a broad smile.
She chuckled saying, “I guess so but not in the ordinary way.”.
“Hi, I’m cousin Glenn.”
“Okay cousin Glenn, I’m cousin Jessica James. You know like Jesse James. My parents had a sense of humor when they named me.”
“I don’t see escort bayan istanbul the resemblance, Jesse.”
“You’re funny, Glenn. Glad to meet you.”
We sat down together, and I asked if she enjoyed the wedding. “It was nice but weddings kind of bum me out,” she confided.
“Why is that? They are intended to be joyous occasions.”
“Yes, I know but ever since my divorce they depress me.”
“How long were you married?”
“Five years. We married right out of high school. I was too young and thought I was in love. It didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe the second time will be the charm.”
“There won’t be a second time, Glenn,” and she turned away from me like I was the plague. To be honest, Glenn, I like being single. It’s a lot more exciting and less boring than being at home with the same man, night after night. Are you married, Glenn?” she asked.
“No, but I came close. I had a girlfriend who I thought was the one. We got into some kind of trivial argument that never went away and she left me.”
Jessica sympathized saying, “I’m sorry. Those things can happen.”
“Would you like to dance?” I asked.
“Not now. Maybe later.”
That ended our conversation when a man pulled her on the dance floor to do the Renegade. It wasn’t a dance as far as I could tell and had more hand and arm movements than an NFL referee. But when she was doing it, may God she looked sexy.
I watched her dance with several more men while I hit the bar. I was on my third Johnnie Walker when Jesse came up to me and said, “Didn’t you ask me to dance?”
“Gosh, Jesse, I’m not up-to-date on half of these dances. I knew ’em all in college but they change so fast.”
“Okay, if there is something you know, I’ll be here for a while longer.”
I snuck over to the DJ and asked him to play something from my college years. A twenty-dollar bribe didn’t harm my cause. From then on, he played three or four songs I knew. Jesse and I danced to them all.
“I’m tired, Glenn. I want to go home.”
I grabbed a silver glass slipper that was a plastic prop used for the Champagne toast to the newlyweds and gave it to Jesse. “What’s this for, Glenn?”
“It’s your slipper, Cinderella, isn’t it? I’m taking you home from the ball.”
She kissed me, a little more than the one I gave her earlier, and asked, “In a pumpkin driven by mice?”
“Well, there is a shortage of pumpkins this week so a Porsche convertible will have to do.
“How about the goose? Will the goose be driving and the mice pulling the carriage?
“No, I’m driving this time and the mice had a rather awkward encounter with the cat. Will that be okay for my princess?”
“It depends on where you’re taking me. Please don’t take me back to that horrible stepmother. Take me someplace far away from her.”
“Will my place be acceptable to your highness?” She grinned and gave me a wink.
I took her to my place giving her a proper kiss once we were inside.
Jesse was good in bed but not adventurous at first. There is a certain protocol to be followed when a couple has sex for the first time. I asked her if she wanted something to drink. She didn’t. I showed her around the apartment. She gave me all the required compliments. The bedroom came last and that’s where we embraced. I helped her off with her dress. My fingers were a bit clumsy unhooking her bra. Jesse’s thong stayed on a while longer. She was busy with my buckle and zipper. I still had on my bowtie and shirt when she went down on me for the obligatory blowjob.
Jessica wiggled out of her thong, then sat on the bed in a semi-lotus position with her pussy framed by her magnificent legs. It was an extraordinarily erotic picture; my head swelled with lust. With my blood pressure going through the roof and my cock twitching like a cat’s tail, I slipped into bed next to her. I was between those heavenly legs the moment she opened them to receive attention from my lips and tongue. She had a tuft of hair above her slit and I devoured everything below it for most of a quarter hour.
It was a glorious feeling being inside a woman’s warm wet cunt made better with those legs, Jesse’s wonderful legs, wrapped around me. After nearly two months without a woman, I was back in the game. She probably didn’t cum the first time we indulged in our carnal desires and she didn’t seem to mind that I had cum inside her. Jesse didn’t say much when I finished except, “Give me a Kleenex before I wet your bed.”
After another long silence, she asked, “Do you do yoga, Glenn?”
“No, I’m not into yoga.”
“Let me show you one of the yoga poses for you, then you might like it. This is called the Pigeon pose and it’s perfect for deep throat. She knelt with her back to me in the middle of the bed, then leaned all the way back until her head hung over the edge of the bed. Her flexibility was amazing! Jesse’s mouth was open, and she licked her lips. This left nothing to my imagination. I was down her throat, zenci escort and she was able to keep it there like heaven on earth, or in this case, in her throat.
Pulling herself up, she said, “Now let’s do Downward Dog.” It was like doing doggy, but she stood on her hands and toes. She looked like an inverted V when I easily slid into her soaked pussy from the rear.
Two dozen strokes later, she introduced me to the Fish pose. This was basically the missionary position but with her hands under her hips and her back arched.
“Usually I’m supposed to keep my legs closed.” she said, “but I’ll keep them open for you at first, then I’ll close them when you’re in. I get a special feeling when my legs are closed with a man inside me.”
The dreamy look on her face with her eyes rolling back told me how much she enjoyed having sex with me on top and her legs together. I was close, on the edge, and about to cum when she said, “Now let’s do one more, the Plow pose. It’s great for deep penetration. That’s when you cum.”
She laid on her back and swung her legs over and behind her head leaving her fuck hole open for me to ravish. “When you put it inside me, get that big dick of yours all the way in, as deep as you can. That’s what makes this pose so great. Don’t stop until you to cum,” she instructed. I straddled her hips and sent my cock balls deep in her hole like she wanted and pounded hard into her. Outside the yoga crowd, it’s called the piledriver. I drove it into her over and over again until creaming up to her cervix while she moaned and whimpered with delight.
“Thank you, Glenn. That was so nice. You’re good at yoga,” she said after doing some last-minute stretches. “Where’s the bathroom so I can freshen up?”
I drove Jesse to her apartment as the sun was chasing away the stars. She kissed me and said, “Maybe we’ll meet again.” It didn’t sound promising. I took that as a woman’s way of saying, “Goodbye. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.” I was politely and regally dismissed. I was devastated.
Weeks went by and I didn’t call her, although I came close. The phone was in my hand and her number punched in the keyboard, but I couldn’t hit ‘Send.’ Sure, I could make an ass out of myself and text her but that would mean I’d expect Jesse to text back. It would only make things worse if she didn’t reply. She made me feel terribly insecure.
But miracles happen and she text’d me saying there was a party Saturday night and I might like to meet some of her friends. Yeah, I’d even meet her on the moon if she asked. She said the dress code was casual.
The party was on the top floor of an apartment building and everyone was on the terrace. I searched for Jesse until she found me. “Oh, Glenn, so glad that you could make it tonight. Let me introduce you to my friends.” Jesse looked ravishing wearing a light satin top draped over her braless chest giving just a hint of both nipples. The tight short shorts she wore flaunted her firm ass and accented her long slender legs.
I roamed the terrace with her trying to remember names. It was a diverse age group from college kids to mid-forties. There were an equal number of men and women, but it was hard to tell if any of them came as a couple. We stopped to have a conversation with a guy by the name of Brad. She told me, “Brad is my yoga instructor,” and it was at that point Jesse left me to fend for myself. I explained to Brad that I was a friend of Jesse’s and he chuckled and said, “Yeah, everyone is a friend of Jesse’s.” I didn’t know how to take that, but it sounded like a compliment. “Do you do yoga?” he asked.
“Only once and I loved it.”
I wandered around the terrace helping myself to a drink and found everyone to be friendly. Some of the women that I hoped to meet walked off with a guy and I figured they had left the party. They always reappeared later, but it was Jesse I wanted to be with. When I tried to find her, she also had disappeared. Jesse wasn’t on the terrace and I didn’t see her for nearly an hour when she came back with a tall black guy. It was Brad, the yoga man I had met earlier.
Just about the same time, a nice-looking woman twenty years older than me walked up and said, “We haven’t met. My name is Stella Feinstein. I live downstairs in Unit 349.”
I could have said, “Hello, nice to meet you,” and walked away but there was something about how she said Unit 349. It almost sounded like an invitation. There was more. Stella wore an exotic blouse, scooped neck displaying a generous amount of cleavage of her ample breasts. To describe her tits as ample was an understatement. In a word, she was sexy for a woman of her age, so we continued to talk.
It turned out she was Mrs. Feinstein and she told me that her husband and Patty were in their apartment, Unit 349. “Oh, here he is,” she said abruptly when an older man with silver hair walked on the terrace with a girl younger than me. “Darling, I’d like you to meet Glenn. Glenn is a good friend of Jessica James.”
We shook hands and he left for the bar with the girl who looked like she was having a bad hair day. Her makeup didn’t look much better. Stella said, “That’s Patty his secretary. We continued our conversation which became more intimate.
“Are you here to hookup with someone special, Glenn?” she asked.
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