I don't know if you've ever been called upon to recruit someone to join with you in fucking a complete stranger, but as I'm sure you can imagine, it presents a few problems. Not only are you picking someone you'll feel comfortable with while engaging in activities not sanctioned by the school events comittee, you're also picking someone you hope (based on little or no knowledge) will appeal to the all-important third party. I examined and rejected each of my friends in turn (physical deformities, emotional deformities, religious exemptions) and began evaluating every eligible male I came in contact with. I began to feel oddly like some kind of perverted Panderus and believe me, it's an odd sensation for a nineteen year old heterosexual male to find oneself immediately starting to speculate on the penis size of every halfway attractive man you meet. It began to be extremely difficult to hold up my end of even the simplest conversation. Despair began to take hold.

However, as they say, the darkest hour is always just before the dawn, and my sun rose, as it were, in the form of the return from National Guard training of one Carlito Rodriguez. Carlos, Carlito to his many friends, was precisely the person I needed. Extremely handsome (in that short hair and white teeth kind of way that, while compelling, seems fairly universal in its appeal) he was the kind of young man that college-age young women loved to bring home to meet Mother and Father and then sneak down into the kitchen with and fuck on the kitchen table--in short, a man for all seasons. We had never been more than the type of college acquaintances that acknowledged one other at parties (generally by roaring obscenities at each other and getting each other beer--yes, I was that kind in my youth; I have grown so). It was, therefore, a somewhat awkward nominating session. The acceptance speech, however, made up for its brevity with its hearty enthusiasm. Carlito, as I have said, was (and is still I should imagine) a man for any and all seasons.

So that is how I found myself, a week after I had last left it, once again standing and ringing the doorbell on the steps of that odd house on Clinton Street. Our mysterious lady once again answered the door wearing nothing but black stockings and (this time) red high-heels. She was as lovely and sexually potent as I had remembered, but this time there was something more--a palpable, almost throbbing hunger in her demeanor that was all-encompassing. She seemed ready to swallow us up. Well, I mis-speak; when I say she was ready to swallow us up, I am being more generous to myself than I really deserve. Have you ever had the experience of watching something you created take on a life of its own and spin wildly out of control? Well, this is somewhat the situation I found myself in as I watched her drink in (I don't think that is too strong a phrase) her first sight of Carlito. She was mesmerized by him, magnetically drawn to him and he to her. I became somewhat apart from their gravity, more like a satellite--in their orbit but not (I was keenly aware) shall we say, geosynchronous. I suppose it was at that moment that the realization came to me that what I had chosen in Carlito was this woman's exact male physical counterpart (dark, tall, strong, physically graceful). It was as if I had reunited her with her distaff self. The effect of this kamikaze attraction, even to me standing on the outside, was head-spinning.

No-one spoke as we followed her into the bedroom. As she turned to face us, she could look only at Carlito, her former haughtiness swept away by their mutual lust. She murmured something inaudible, but the import was obvious as she knelt before him furiously pulling at his belt and zipper. I watched as her eyes, lit with lust, finally beheld their prize. She licked her lips hungrily and immediately, greedily took as much of his hard cock into her mouth as she could manage. She gazed up at him as she did this--looking imploringly at him and then closing her eyes as if lost in the utter deliciousness of what she was doing, of what he was doing to her. For several long moments she suckled on him, her mouth slack with lust, occassionally looking up at him, her eyes smiling almost shyly as if to contradict her wantonness.

She could tell that Carlito would not be able to continue this treatment for long without coming and apparently, she was not going to be satisfied with that conclusion. At length, she stood and, pressing her naked body as close to him as she could as if afraid to lose contact with him, began kissing his neck and gently touching his completely rigid cock with her fingers. I have never before or since, I'm ashamed to admit, seen a woman so completely overcome with sexual desire for a man as she was that day. Carefully and gently, probably without his realizing it, she maneuvered him to the bed and fell with him onto it. He was lying on his back, she was on top. With infinite tenderess, she straddled him and holding his hard cock upright in her hand, placed it to her opening. Letting out a deep, shuddering sigh of contented lust, she settled, completely impaling herself on him.

At first she sat upright, holding her heavy breasts in her hands and playing gently with her nipples. Then, putting two of her fingers in her mouth, she began masturbating while she rode him, putting her head back and closing her eyes, all the while moaning softly. She did this for a long time and captivated as I was by the sight, I believed that I had been forgotten entirely. At length she leaned forward and kissed Carlito on the mouth. Then looking over at me she spoke as if in a dream or from a long way away, but, I must say, with some of the old hauteur.

"I want you to put it in my ass now. There's lube on the dresser." She turned back to Carlito again, kissing him hungrily and twining her fingers in his hair. I took the lube from the dresser and slowly and somewhat disconnectedly anointed both myself and her. As I placed the head of my cock at her puckered hole, she temporarily stopped moving and took a deep breath. Then, surprising me, she pushed back forcefully until I was deep inside her ass. Carlito had slid out of her during this motion, and with a whimper, she moved quickly to shove him back in.
Filled everywhere now with hard cock, she began to writhe uncontrollably. Pulling Carlito's hair and moaning incoherently she began to come, which she announced loudly.

"Oh God, Oh fuck, Oh God," she shrieked,"I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming."

And, looking at Carlito, "Come with me baby, please, please."

Carlito nodded and looking into her eyes he came, pouring himself into her. At this moment, caught up at last in their gravity, I came too, grunting and emptying myself into her ass.

We lay there for a little while, too spent to move, while Carlito and this strange woman looked into each others eyes and smiled. I realized shortly that my presence was, shall we say, no longer required and zipping myself up (that's right, I had not even disrobed) attempted (I think successfully) to absent myself with some shred of decorum.

As I once again made the pilgrimage down that strangely sterile hallway, I remembered the words of the old song, 'Well, you're blessed I guess by never knowing which road you're choosing. To you the next best thing to playing and winning is playing and losing.'

THE END


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