Author: ibav8n

The beach weekend [M/F/M] [oral] [public] [mid-30s]

*So we went to the beach. My friends Jimmy and Lyssa wanted to go, and I agreed to fly them down for the weekend because I didn’t have any other plans. We booked two rooms at a decent hotel with its own private beach, dropped off our bags, and hit the sand.*

*p.s. Lyssa’s reading these stories. Comment accordingly.*

**Simon**
Lyssa and I were lying on the beach, watching her husband swim in the ocean. The sun was shining and the waves were crashing against the shore. Lyssa rolled over onto her stomach and asked me to put suntan lotion on her back. She lifted herself up and scooted forward, enabling me to get to her backside and legs. As I rubbed the lotion on her back, I allowed my hands to wander a little, taking in the silky smooth skin beneath my palms. I could tell she was enjoying it and I enjoyed the way she shivered at my touch, or maybe just the coolness of the lotion.

I continued to rub the lotion on her legs, taking my time as I let my fingers wander across her body. I could feel her body heat rising and I knew my touch was turning her on. Read more »

The Superb Owl [M/F/M 30s] [oral] [fingering] [light femdom]

The Super Bowl

*Simon*
Every year, my friends Lyssa and Jimmy host a Super Bowl party for a small group of friends. When I got there, they had set up their living room with a big screen TV, plenty of snacks and drinks, and a festive atmosphere. As the guests arrived, the energy was high, and everyone was looking forward to a fun night of cheering on their favorite teams, not to mention the commercials.

But, truth be told, the game was a bust: low-scoring and generally lame. Since it was a school night, people started drifting home after about the third quarter, but I kept guzzling Jimmy’s beers. By the two-minute warning, two things were clear: it was the least interesting Super Bowl in recent memory, and I was in no condition to drive home. Neither were my hosts. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal because my wife would handle the driving, but she was out of town.

After the game, we lounged on the sofa just bullshitting for a few minutes—they have a big L-shaped sectional, and I was on one end of the L and they were on the other. I got up, maybe a little unsteadily, intending to thank my hosts and just walk home. “Where are you going?” said Jimmy. Read more »

Drinking with [m]y [f]riend T

It’s pretty common for a group of us to get together and go out for dinner, drinks, and so on. Everyone’s busy, everyone has kids, and so these nights are episodic – when everything lines up right to get everyone in the same place at the same time, it’s always a great night. It’s pretty common for last-minute lineup changes as people have pop-up work events, sports practices, and so on, and we often carpool because parking in our town can be a hassle.

This particular night we’d all agreed to meet at a local pub we all liked, right next to the railroad tracks downtown. Besides me and my wife, there were three other couples who’d said they were in. I wasn’t sure who all would actually show up, but I was super pleased when my friend T showed up with her husband J. T is a stunning brunette—big dark eyes, absolutely gorgeous legs, perky boobs, and (most importantly) an outrageous flirty spirit. She’s usually a jeans-and-T-shirt gal but tonight she was rocking a mid-thigh-length burgundy dress, dark sheer stockings, and black flats. She noticed me checking out her legs when she walked in and smirked at me—which was pretty typical of our relationship really. See, she’s known for years that I’ve had a thing for her, and there’s terrific tension between us, but the timing has never been right. Read more »

A lady goes for a ride… [MF]

It seemed like a simple enough request. The text I got from you that afternoon said “Would you mind picking up my race packet when you’re at the shop?” Nothing more than the kind of routine favor that friends and neighbors do for each other all the time, so I agreed and went on about my business. In this case, that business involved going to the shop, grabbing race packets, and then returning home for the usual kid-free-night routine: a long slow run, a shower, and a cold beer. Just as I fit the bottle opener to the top of my first victim, I remembered: I’d promised to deliver the packet so you’d have it before the race. A quick glance at my watch showed that it was only a little after 7. That’s not too late, I rationalized. I grabbed my phone to text you, but it was dead, neglected after my run music drained the last of its ancient battery. I plugged it in with a shrug, grabbed the packet, shoved the cat away from the door with one foot, and headed out to drop it off. Read more »

Sharing with J [MMF] [bd] [oral]

Sharing is Caring™

“Come here,” I say. “I want to show you something.”

Up to that point, it’s been a quiet evening—ESPN, the sofa, the three of us chatting about kids, pets, sports. A typical Saturday night in suburbia, each of us with a gently sweating beer under the rapid whir of the ceiling fan.

I stand and extend a hand. You rise and take it. “Close your eyes,” I murmur; as you do, I take your hand and spin you around a few times, muddying your sense of direction, then I take your elbow and lead you to the guest bedroom. As I guide you down the hall, I notice your lips parting slightly. You’re breathing a bit faster, almost as if you know what we have planned.

I lead you to the middle of the room, where—unseen by you—there’s a folding massage table, a lucky find at the thrift store. Gently I move you over towards it and turn you so the backs of your thighs touch the table; with a hand on your shoulder, I press gently so that you sit down. You pivot and stretch out along the length of the table, relaxing and happily accepting the notion of getting a relaxing massage… right up until I grab the thick leather belt I use for powerlifting, wrap it around your midsection, and secure you to the table. Read more »