Happy 4th of July

Hi Everyone,

I want to thank everyone who responded with kind words to my return. So many have asked about whether or not I actually went back and met with Robert at the hotel, and I am sad to say that I did not (yet).

I do want to clear up something. I am not in therapy because I was (and apparently still am) a nympho sex freak. My really bad times had very little (well okay more than that, but not much), to do with that. My really bad times were REALLY BAD TIMES and I eventually sought help, but not for liking sex with lots of people. That's my therapist's pet project, and not on the table for psychological discussion. My personal kink, my own little fetish, is one-night stands, and by definition that means I'm going to meet people from all walks of life. If that bothers anyone, don't read. Okay, sorry.

Something happened recently that I felt I must put down. Okay, it happened last night, at a July 4th party thrown by an old friend of mine, Tammy. When I say old friend, I mean the best kind. The kind you met in kindergarten and stayed so close to that she was your first girl, best friend, and God knows we shared a boy or girl or two. Tammy was one of the people who I hurt when I disappeared, but was also one of the only people who understood when I came back and let her know everything that had happened.

No, I'm still not going to go into it. Happy stuff, remember?

So, Tammy and her partner, Samantha, asked me to go to their 4th Party, and I couldn't say no, even though I had to drive for most of a day to get there on the night of the third. I had an open invitation to stay with them, but I'm a hotel girl, you know?

I wore a black mini shorts romper with a matching belt and the most adorable Viktor & Rolf leather high heel sandals with an ankle strap. Not knowing what kinds of parties the couple throw, I decided it was best to go incognito, though I did wear a knockout black lace crop top / boy shorts set underneath.

When I arrived, at around 9:00, Tammy and I hugged like there was no tomorrow. It's been almost three years since we saw each other, and that was at a bad time. She introduced me to Samantha, and we really took a moment to size each other up, and you know what? I win. Didn't take any imagination to spot the knock-off from the original, but more on that later.

Tammy went nuts over my car. Daddy had always bought me a new Lexus, but when he died I decided to change things up a little. I bought my cute little black Jag XK8 convertible and haven't wanted to change it out since, even though it's getting a bit long in the tooth (it's a 2005). I tossed her the keys and she jumped in and peeled out to the accompaniment of my loud swearing.

And there I was, alone with Samantha. We hugged briefly, and then just stood there staring at each other. Let me give you a brief description. Samantha is a spoiled little trust fund girl who is used to being the prettiest girl in the room. She's about 5' 4" or 5' 5" tall, probably weighs between 105 and 115. She has long, sexy legs, a cute ass, thin waist, and perky little titties, probably c's. She's fit, either a runner or a swimmer (or both).

She has big, pretty blue eyes, a perfect little nose (probably natural) and full, luscious lips (jury's still out on natural or not). Her face is kind of heart-shaped, but with a stronger jaw, and she has straight brown hair with highlights, that hangs down between her shoulder blades.

Tammy must have realized her mistake, because she wasn't gone for two minutes before my car came whipping back and screeched to a stop. She got out and tossed me back my keys, and she looked me in the eye and we had a silent conversation:

Me: Hey, she looks familiar! Tammy: Fuck you. Me: Where have I seen her before? Tammy: Fuck you. Me: Somewhere, I don't know, maybe... IN MY MIRROR? Tammy: Fuck you. Me: I love you. Tammy: I love you too. Now keep your big mouth shut.

Don't you love being able to have conversations like that with old friends? I swear, if we were back in school, I could go to the front of the class and give a speech cold, as long as Tammy was in the front row to feed it to me with her eyes. I'm exaggerating, maybe, but the girls at least will know what I mean. We do it all the time when guys are around, and if you don't believe me, just watch your wife or girlfriend when you introduce her to your hot new assistant.

Tammy was wearing a pair of Dolce & Gabbana lace up heels, black short shorts, and a peachy-orange top that really showed off her figure (the sweetest, roundest tits I've ever had the pleasure of). Her hair is still kind of wild, a golden brown halo that is as wide as her shoulders but is cut to taper just below them. She looked great.

Samantha? White strappy sandals with a medium heel, white shorts, and a pink polo. No style. Okay, reahrrrrrrr! Claws-in for the majority of this fine tale. Have I ever told you that I'm not a real bitch sometimes? No? Because I don't lie when I'm writing, that's why.

We went inside and OMG their house is incredible! The furnishings, the color scheme, the art, all so wonderful! I'll leave it at that, this isn't a decorating magazine. But wow! They took me out to their back yard, which isn't really what it is. It's really a giant area of fine stonework with a fucking-A giant pool and stone pillars between the pool and the edge of the "patio" and the canyon that stretches off into the distance. It is breathtaking! Maybe I should have married the girl myself!

Oh, Tammy is in "entertainment management", which means that when you need a show put together, say for Grandma's 90th, and you want Aerosmith to play with Justin Timberlake, you call Tammy and she sets it up for you. Samantha helps. Apparently business is good, because I strongly doubt I could afford their house.

Samantha was sent to fetch some mojitos and I caught Tammy up on my life. When Sammy brought out the drinks Tammy was holding me and we were laying on one of their many, very comfy, lounges. Swear to God, I would do Tammy any time, any day, and under any circumstances, but at that moment we were sisters again. No, not blood relatives. One look at our complexions would clear that right up.

Samster makes a fine mojito. A fine, take a sip - hey, why am I on my ass - mojito. Maybe she's not so bad af- screw that. Die Bitch.

The other guests started to arrive at around 11:00, and I made the rounds, after receiving a stern warning that these were Tammy's friends and people she worked with, so I needed to be on my best behavior. I met a cute woman in her 30's named Karin (yes, she spelled it for me) who had a rockin' bod and was wearing a loose skirt, sandals, and a tight cotton top. We hit it off really well. I also met a guy named Harry who is in his 30's and also has a hot body. He was in shorts and a polo, with deck shoes. Most of the other guys and girls I met were either into each other, or in the guy's cases wanted to talk to me about my shoes (if you catch my drift).

There was one guy though, a six footer with a hard body, a cheap red Hawaiian shirt and white board shorts, and wearing a watch that cost more than my car. He was in his late 30's maybe 40, and he had movie star looks, a strong jaw, intense dark eyes, and perfect dark hair. He said his name was Mike, and that he had been drawn to me, but too shy to approach me earlier.

Ding Ding Ding - we have a winner! This is a good way to introduce yourselves, guys. The old "I'm a lowly hot guy that makes you all tingly, but I'm not worth a girl as hot as you are - but here I am because I really do have strength and confidence" thing will take you far.

We had been eating all day, little appetizers and the like, with dinner expected at around 7:30, fireworks at 9:30, after the sun was truly gone for the day. It was at this point only 5:00, and I cornered Tammy alone in the pantry off her kitchen (yes, they have more than one).

I pulled her in and closed the door, and she must have thought, oh I don't know what she thought, but all of a sudden we were kissing. It was hot, loving kissing like back in high school, and I could have just moved into that pantry forever. My feet were starting to cramp because my shoes don't allow for proper toe-curling action.

I broke away and let her know that wasn't why I'd pulled her in there, and then I kissed her, and I kept kissing her, my hands under her top, my fingers saying, "Hey there Tammy's nipples, remember me? Let's dance!" About that time, my pussy said, "Hey! Is that Tammy? How about a kiss?" and I really had to push her away.

We straightened each other's clothes and calmed down, and I remembered why I had pulled her in.

"Karin?" I asked, biting my lip softly.

"Married," Tammy said, crossing her arms and pushing her tits up to distract me.

"Harry?" I asked, trying to look up at her face.

"Married to Karin," Tammy said, starting to smile.

"Harry and Karin?" I asked, finally able to meet her smiling gaze.

"Don't even," Tammy said, and then licked her upper lip.

"Mike?" I asked, stopping myself from jumping on her and wrestling her tongue into my mouth with my own.

Tammy paused. "Mike's a good guy," Tammy said, "But he has a reputation for being a little, kinky."

"Tammy?" I asked, knowing her answer, and counting on it to break the terrible tension.

"Taken," she said, and we hugged before leaving the pantry.

I took a look at the party from the kitchen window, and then went out, cocktail in hand, and walked to the far side of the pool, where I'd be hidden. I held my drink in both hands in front of me and gazed dramatically out over the canyon. Five, four, three, two, one...

"May I join you?" Mike asked, poking his head around the pillar. I glanced coyly in his direction, a little startled (yeah, right), and I nodded once before I returned my attention to the canyon. We stood together in silence for a few minutes, and he took my drink and set it on the ground with his. My curiosity was piqued, and I let him take my hands and turn me toward him. He knew I wasn't married or attached, we'd established that earlier, but I was surprised when he leaned down and kissed me softly, still holding my hands in his.

I let him kiss me, enjoying it very much, and I encouraged it, but I didn't press to return it. Mike released my hands and ran his fingers through my hair, looking deeply into my eyes, and hello! My knees went a little weak. He kissed me again, and this time I kissed him back. One hand played in my hair while the other rubbed my lower back softly, and I'm certain that if I were taller, or he shorter, he would have been feeling my ass.

"We should go somewhere private," Mike said softly, still holding me close, "So we can talk." We picked up our drinks and I let him lead me by the hand back to the house, and a few moments searching turned up a lovely little den with a mod sofa and billiard table that didn't look full sized. I sat on the sofa and took a swallow before setting my drink on the little coffee table (without a coaster - burn in hell Samalla). Mike sat down right next to me, close to me, his arm on the back of the sofa behind me.

Without preamble he was on me, in my mouth, and he was welcome. He kissed me hard, and after a few minutes I was kissing him back, almost as hard. His hand found my breast, and with a single squeeze I became all creamy wet, my pussy still rather angry at me for earlier. Another squeeze and my pussy was willing to settle for Mike. My fingertips grazed his crotch, and I guessed he must have been around eight or so inches, and it wasn't thin either.

Mike stopped kissing me, and he said, "Teri, do you know what the proper place for a woman is?" Well, a pedestal jumped to mind, followed closely by a temple in which to worship her, but instead I gave him big eyes and a slow shake of my head.

"A woman," Mike continued, softly, almost hypnotically, "should always be ready to serve a man, to put his every need above her own. Do you know what I mean?" Gag me! I mean, if I could gag, but that's different. I knew exactly what he was saying, and I would have laughed right in his face if I wasn't interested in that package that he had for me. Instead I kept up the big eyes and gave him another little shake of my poor little old head.

"I mean," he said, growing slightly impatient, "That a woman should serve a man, do whatever he says so he can give pleasure to them both." Uh-huh. Based on what he was saying, I should never have to take another step for the rest of my life, just stand on the backs of past lovers and have them carry me everywhere. Come to think of it, I have stood on the backs of past lovers, sometimes in stilettos. I was getting the impression that Mike was thinking along those lines, but with me taking the heel (no pun intended, really!). "Do you understand me, Teri?"

I nodded, still big eyes, and he said, "Good. Are you ready to serve me?" Again I nodded. This might be fun, or I might be recounting this to the police soon. Actually, either way could be fun.

"Stand up, Teri," Mike said, and I did. I stood in front of him, wringing my hands. BTW - Why is it that these kinds of guys get all Hannibal Lecter and use your name in every sentence? If it's supposed to be hypnotic, it doesn't work for me. I find it annoying.

"Remove your belt, Teri," Mike said, but in the interest of not typing my own fucking name a MILLION times, I'll cut to the chase. Mike had me take off my belt, then slip out of my jumpsuit. Oh, he did like my crop top and boy shorts set, indeedy-do.

He had me get down on my knees and take him out of his pants, and I have to admit he has a magnificent cock. Not too big or anything like that, but perfectly formed, with a fat, knobby head, thick, hard shaft, and plenty of fat veins to keep things interesting. I stroked him a few times to build up that fat drop of precome, and I licked it away with relish.

And the bastard slapped my cheek. Softly, but damn! He hadn't said Simon Says. After a few moments, Mike told me to suck his dick, and I did, taking him into my mouth only and using my hands on the rest of him. He said some very nice things about my mouth and my technique, and I was tonguing the fleshy spot under the head when he told me to stop and stand.

He got up too, cock bobbing along, and he led me by the hand over to the billiard table. I had a thought that if he tried to put a billiard ball anywhere he'd get twice as many up his ass. He told me to lean back, and I was arched uncomfortably over the table, my toes barely scraping the floor. He pulled my cute little panties off, and I heard him gasp, his face very close to my pussy.

"You have a beautiful pussy, Teri," he said, "So tiny, so smooth." I know I said I'd cut to the chase, but I've said it before and I'll say it again, a girl does like to hear these things, even when it's the thousandth time. He ran his tongue up through my groove pretty well, and then his fingers moved in and he spread my lips and exposed my pink parts. He wasn't gentle, but I didn't expect him to be. He put his tongue against my little clit and wrapped his tongue around it, then rolled his tongue in a fairly exotic manner that made my pussy cream and my clit shout, "Thank you Sir, may I have another?"

My old friend Orgasm rang the doorbell and I let her in, and she started right away to build up, though she was working slowly today. His tongue worked my clit, and I forgot all about his little game, and all about the slap. When he pushed a finger into me I would have voted for him to be President, and when he quickly added another finger I went nuts, sending juices down his fingers. I really didn't mean to let out a girlish moan, but if I heard that moan from anyone but me I'd think I was doing a pretty damn good job. Well, he was, but that's beside the point.

Mike fingered me good, all the while giving me some amazing tongue action on my clit. My orgasm was building up and I was loving Tammy's 4th party. Mike stopped tonguing me and stood, still fingering my pussy. He grabbed one of my tits and squeezed, and I moaned because of the sweet pain.

And then he started frigging me faster, slamming his fingers into me hard, so hard that his palm was hitting my pussy pretty hard. I was hearing some pretty freaky fast slurping-slapping sounds to accompany the sweet pain of a fast fuck and a pussy slapping, but then he made me come, and I arched harder, my body hot and wet and whining like the little animal slut that I am. I felt my creamy juices dripping onto my thighs and rolling down in slow rivulets, and I just knew that I was filling his hand and it was overflowing to drip onto me.

Mike rolled me onto my tummy and while this was both more comfortable and more promising of a good fuck, he asked me, "Are you a good girl, Teri? Oh shit. This can be a lovely question to answer either way, with the right guy (or girl). With Mike, I didn't know which would make him beat my ass harder, but his very asking of the question meant my ass was going to get beat on. I tried a yes.

Whammo! Fucker slapped my ass so hard I had tears in my eyes right away. I writhed, feeling the sting start and knowing in a few seconds I'd have a perfect red hand print on my ass. He asked again, and I stuck by my guns and received another one on the other cheek. He asked again, I said yes again, and he smacked my ass just as hard, but this time three times, whack, slap, smack! I got snot on the velvet of the table, but I wasn't going to wail. If I did, people might come to help, and that would just be embarrassing, for me and for Tammy and Tight-assmantha.

He asked again and I shook my head, and I said, "Please don't hit me again," sobbing hard, "I've been such a bad girl." I wasn't play acting. His hand still stung when he rubbed it softly across my red-hot ass, and then he dipped it lower and ran those fingers into my pussy slowly. My palms were flat on the velvet, holding me tensed for the beating, and he reached over and pulled one back toward him so it was relaxed next to me, and then did the same with the other one. That confused me, because it seemed like a nice thing, a promise that I didn't need to fear the hand anymore.

Mike removed his fingers and I felt his cock head rubbing against my pussy, looking for the way inside. He wasn't kidding, I really do have a tiny little pussy, at last on the outside. All shaved, like I've been since I was sixteen, I am now ten years older and still a pedophile's dream, or rather that part of my anatomy is. The rest of me looks all grown up, thank you.

I felt my pussy begin to stretch around him, engulfing him, and I was right about his magnificent cock. He felt so fucking good! He started fucking me slow and steady, and it felt so damn good that I would have asked for another ass-whipping if he held out now. I was grooving with him, listening to him tell me how sweet and tight my pussy is, how good I feel, and aren't I glad I submitted to him so he could make me feel good? Well, kinda I guess.

Truth is, he made me come again, and it was good. I moaned and I writhed on the velvet table, my pussy grabbing hard on his cock and rubbing my juices onto him. The dripping started again, and I knew, when I could think straight, that my juices were dripping off his balls.

Then he took a wrist in each of his hands, and he pushed them up, almost to my shoulder blades. I screamed, but at the same time he had started slamming it into me hard, and my scream got broken up into shorter fuck screams. My shoulders were on fire, the pain so intense, and it wasn't sexy, sweet pain, it was fucking-A that hurts pain. I was whining and struggling, but I really couldn't move. He started talking about sticking needles through my nipples (not again!) and clit (that sounds like a bad time I don't even want to attempt), and thumbtacks on my ass. He was fucking my pussy hard, and I do mean hard, with my arms twisted so painfully I thought they might break, and describing some pretty sick shit about how he was going to hurt me for real, and I was scared.