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I’d love to see his face when he opens my email, I mused to myself. With a mischievous smile and a quickening pulse, I clicked ‘Send’ before I could change my mind and launched my message into cyberspace.

It had all been Jo’s idea. Emboldened by a shared bottle (or two) of Pinot Grigio and Jo’s own explicit tales of her escapades with Jermaine, I had confessed to her the parlous state of my own sex life. In truth there was barely a sex life to confess. These days Andrew seemed more interested in work and golf than in me. And I need sex. God, how I need sex. If I don’t make love regularly, I become irritable and restless and my thoughts start to wander. Maybe not every day — I’m not a nymphomaniac (I don’t think) — but enough to keep my thoughts from straying to all those colleagues at work who had made it abundantly clear what they would happily satisfy any needs that Andrew can’t.

‘Dump him, Emma,’ said Jo firmly, as she refilled her glass for the umpteenth time. ‘You’re not a nun. You haven’t taken a vow of chastity. If you can’t get any action at home, you’re going to have to get it elsewhere.’

‘I couldn’t do that to Andy,’ I protested, pretending that the idea hadn’t entered my head. In fact, I had thought about little else lately. Fantasy upon fantasy filled my mind, and most of them featured Alan, my new boss. He was divorced, only a little older than me and utterly adorable. He was just how I like my men. His hair was dark, almost black, and just a shade too long. He had brown eyes and little laughter lines at the corners. He had a wonderful grin too that always made me want to kiss him. His body too was, I feverishly imagined, taut and tanned. He was simply gorgeous. That wasn’t just my opinion. Several of the single girls had confided as much; and I had to merely grin and pretend that I wasn’t bothered.

What made matters worse was that I was convinced that he found me attractive too. At the office Christmas Party he had dance with me four times. I could see the others, grouped in little huddles, counting and commenting. Andrew, thank God, was propping up the bar with Jack and Blake, discussing putting techniques or some such. Meanwhile, Alan was holding me just a little too closely, his breath hot on my neck, his hand a little too close to my butt for decency’s sake. But did I complain? Oh no, all I wanted to do was grip his muscled torso and enjoy his crotch rubbing against my midriff.

‘Emma, are you listening? You look miles away!’

‘What? Oh, sorry,’ I spluttered and reached for my glass, conscious that my face was flushing at the thought of Alan’s embrace.

‘Look,’ said Jo, ‘if you won’t dump him, then you’ll have to revive his interest. It’ll soon be Valentine’s Day. Take the afternoon off. Call in sick or something. Make yourself beautiful for him. You know what they like. Stockings, suspenders, the full works. Then call him at work and in your sexiest voice you lure him home.’

‘Then what?’

‘Jesus, Emma! Do I have to paint a picture for you? You give him the slickest BJ he’s ever had and fuck his brains out. If that doesn’t get his juices flowing, I think we can safely say that he’s clinically dead.’

So that’s what I did. More or less.

I told Alan that I would be working from home on Valentine’s Day. He’s very cool about that sort of thing and didn’t raise an eyebrow.

Needless to say, Andy left for work without even an acknowledgement that it was Valentine’s Day. Still, I thought to myself, when he gets my message, he’ll be rushing home with flowers, a card and the biggest erection this side of the Chrysler Building.

I turned to the message I had composed to Andrew.

‘My dear, sweet darling,

How can you know how I feel about you if I don’t tell you? Let me tell you now — I adore you and long for you every moment of every day.

Today I have thought of nothing but you. Lying in bed alone, I hugged the pillow, imagining your body beside me, praying that I was holding you in my embrace. And now, seated on the settee, I yearn to feel your body in my arms, and your cock, hard and heavy, in my mouth and then filling my warm, wet pussy.

Come to me now. The champagne is chilled, the fire is lit and I am waiting for you.

I am dressed in black, just as you like me - black nylon stockings, black silk suspenders, black satin corset and black lacy knickers, that are already drenched with my longing for you.

Don’t make me wait. Come to me now and we will cum and cum and cum together ……’

I even took a digital photo of myself on the settee, dressed in all my finery. I had thought, as I balanced the camera on the mantelpiece, that I would feel stupid but, in fact, even as I was slipping into the corset, sliding the stocking up my smooth, tanned legs and clasping them, I felt immensely turned on. I arranged myself on the settee, resting on one knee and draping the other leg over the arm rest, my thighs bare and parted. I leant back provocatively, pushing out my firm, corseted breasts. One hand had slipped inside my knickers, tracing my pink, pulsing nether lips. My head was thrown back in obvious rapture, my teeth biting on my lip.

Finding an old email from Andy, I clicked reply and prepared to upload the photo and message.

Just as I was about to send my email, I received an email from Alan about one of our clients, a Mr Gloster. It did make me feel guilty that I was acting so frivolously when Alan had always treated me so well. In order to ease my conscience (and with a heavy heart, because I would have loved it to be Alan that I was entertaining), I sent him a quick reply: ‘I’m working hard on the Gloster account. Will probably take me all day.’ Then I clicked back to Andrew’s email, uploaded the photo and message and gigglingly launched it on its way.

I figured that it would be at least an hour before Andrew returned, so I poured myself a bath, drew the curtains and lit a half dozen scented candles. In the bath, using the remote, I played Je t’aime, the old Jane Birkin / Serge Gainsbourg song over and over again. The memory of the photo and my love message, the sumptuous luxury of the perfumed bath and musky candles, the sexy, sexy music and the prospect of the wonderful fucking that Andy and I would enjoy made it almost impossible for me to keep my hands away from my pussy. But somehow I resisted.

Having dried myself off, I dressed again in my lingerie, unlocked the front door for Andy and waited for his return on the settee. Each moment seemed to last an hour as I contemplated all the delicious treats I would confer on his body and all the glorious pleasure that he would bestow on mine.

I looked up at the clock. An hour that seemed more like a day had passed and still he wasn’t there. Then I noticed the phone light flashing. I must have had a message whilst I was pampering myself in the bathroom. I listened intently: ‘Hi, honey. Got your message. I’ve got to work late. That bastard of a boss is really kicking butt this quarter. Don’t know when I’ll be home.’ There was a pause, then: ‘Oh, happy Valentines! Don’t start without me.’ He laughed and then the phone went dead.

How could he? How could he? The unfeeling, insensitive swine! My head was in my hands. My stomach that only a few moments ago was flip-flopping with erotic anticipation now felt queasily sick. How ridiculous I must have looked too, sat on the settee in the middle of the afternoon and dressed like a high class call girl.

I dragged myself to my feet and slouched over to the hallway, determined with grim reluctance to get sensibly dressed and start to work on the Gloster account. As I opened the sitting room door, I felt a blast of cold air buffet me. Alan was standing before me, closing the front door behind him.

I felt drunk, my brain struggling to comprehend what was happening. My boss was in my hallway, staring at me dressed in my sexiest lingerie.

‘What are you doing?’ I whimpered.

He said nothing. As soon as the door was shut behind him, he pushed me up against the wall. There was no permission sought, nor was there any resistance. My back thumped hard against the partition and I yelped in breathless surprise. In a moment more, I felt a hand slip inside the leg of my knickers, cupping my groin. I arched against it and the heel pressed on my mound. The nails of his other hand dug into my ass through the silky fabric. My head thrown back in abject surrender, I could feel him all over me: his mouth now at my throat, now on my shoulders, teeth scraping across my bosom; his hand pulling my bodice down so that my breasts were free for his attention. I pushed him away from me, not in belated defence, but so that my own hands could drag down the zip of his pants, unbuckle the belt and free his cock from its reluctant captivity. With difficulty he wrestled his feet free of shoes, socks and pants.

He took me there where I stood, stooping to enter me. Now I was on tiptoes, pushing myself up to ease his admittance. But his hands grasped my bottom and lifted me off my feet. I rode his hips — my childlike body light in his arms — as he thrust into me remorselessly.

Pressed hard against the wall, I clung to him tightly. He folded his forearms beneath my rump, raising me higher. My ankles locked around his flanks. Harder and faster he plunged into me, battering my ass against the dampening wall. One of my hands yanked at his hair, whilst, with the other, I dug my nails into his shoulder blade. His startled groans punctuated my howling cries of ‘Yeah …. yeah ….’ and the thump, thump, thump against that flimsy wall.

Fearful of my rapturous yells, he gagged my mouth with his hand and muffled my clamouring. Unsupported, I began to slide down his body. He hauled me up again and carried me, cradled in his arms, into the sitting room and dumped me on the settee.

‘On your knees,’ he grunted. I rolled over obediently.

Alan peeled my knickers down my legs and I lifted my knees to ease their passage. He gasped as he admired my butt. Delighted at his admiration, I wiggled my ass provocatively and mewed as he squeezed the two smooth hemispheres with greedy hands.

‘Don’t make me wait. Please,’ I half-begged, half-demanded, grinning at him over my shoulder and then burying my head in the cushions.

He gripped me by the hips and eased himself back into me. All the way. He felt enormous as my tight, wet pussy hugged him in its welcoming embrace. Once more my moaning encouragements filled the room.

‘Fuck me, darling, fuck me,’ I pleaded. And he did with long, steady strokes. The rhythm, insistent and unceasing, and my enforced celibacy combined to bring me towards my orgasm.

‘God, I love it,’ I exclaimed through gritted teeth as his groin thudded against the soft cushion of my ass.

Oblivious to all but his cock entering me remorselessly, I was screaming: ‘Yes …. Yes ….’

He was silent but for the groans of effort as he ploughed me on and on.

‘Sweet Jesus! Fuck!’ I swore.

His cock rammed into me, now harder, now faster. My head was flat against the settee. His groin pounded against my pillowy ass.

On and on and on we fucked. Finally, I felt my body summoning me to the mercy of my coming. With each entering he was slamming against me until he brought me to the very summit of ecstasy. And then I felt myself tumbling, tumbling, my heart swooping, my stomach somersaulting, my dear, depraved pussy weeping with utter bliss.

‘Yes …. yes …. yes …. yes ….!!!!’

Then I felt him explode within me, pumping his seed deep and tightening his body as he thrust one last time.

‘Ye-e-e-e-e-s ……..’ I mewed in an endless sigh as my body relaxed.

‘Mmmmmm. Ye-e-e-e-s,’ he replied in quiet assent.

He took me in his arms and we lay still and silent. Only his hand moved as it caressed my arm.

I couldn’t stop grinning. At last, smiling up at him, I said: ‘It was meant to be, wasn’t it?’

‘Of course,’ he said.

‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I whispered and struggled to my feet. Slowly I crawled up the stairs towards the bathroom.

I was amazed by the turn of events. It could all have been so different: what if Andrew had been home, as I had planned? And what made Alan suddenly declare his desire for me? An uncomfortable feeling began to stir in my tummy. At the top of the stairs I ventured not to the bathroom, but to my study and clicked on my Sent box.

Oh, my God! I had mixed up the two messages. Andrew thought that I was working away busily and Alan had been summoned to the house to fuck me.

I laughed out loud. Poor Andrew, working late to ensure that his boss was happy. I closed down the computer and shut the study door behind me, determined to make sure that my boss was equally satisfied.

Still can’t believe I let him do it. We’d been friends ever since 1st grade and nothing like this had ever happened before.

We were both married but had been on the road for almost a month before the incident that I’m about to tell you about happened. We’d started a new company together, you know, working for yourself and all. We had to travel to meet our new customer base and we were close to being broke so we shared all the expenses including motel rooms.

As I said before we had been on the road for almost a month when one afternoon we’d finished up a little early and had spent the extra time at the motel pool. I was tired and we had to drive several hundred miles the next day so I told Bill, by friend, that I was going to take a nap for a couple of hours and then later we could go to MacDonald’s and get a bit.

I went back to the room and took a shower. I was so tired that I could hardly keep my eyes open. I came out of the bathroom and turned down the covers and crashed down on the bed with a satisfied sigh and immediately drifted off to sleep.

I dreamed that I was home with Carole my wife. We were making wild love. It was some of the best sex we’d ever had. I could feel every nuance, every move we made. Her body felt so wonderful beneath me and her breath against my ear as we fucked was bringing me closer and closer.

Then I awoke. Not really waking, but suddenly I could tell that I wasn’t with my wife. Somehow I knew that I was still on the road and at a motel. I shifted my position slightly and felt a touch on my thigh. Then I felt someone touching my ridged dick.

I wanted to jump up and yell, but all I did was lay there pretending that I was still asleep. Through the slits of my eyelids I could just see Rob, may partner, sitting there on my bed. I could just make out that he was reaching for my boner. The boner that my dream had made stiff as a board.

What was happening? Why was I naked and why was Rod feeling me up? I slowly realized that I must have gone to bed naked and not covered up. But what the hell, that was no reason for Rob to be doing this!

Just as I was about to sit up and smack him, Rob’s fingers wrapped around my cock. I realized in that moment that I was harder than I think I’d ever been before. The feel of his warm had on me like that was something I’d never expected. It felt good!

Then his hand was moving up and down, pulling my cockflesh back and forth as he began to jack me off. I continued to lie there pretending that I was still asleep. My heart was in my throat, and I could barely breath. I was so excited that it was all I could do to remain motionless.

I let Rob do me, I remained silent and kept pretending that I was asleep. He began to jack me off faster and faster so that soon I knew I’d be spurting soon. Then I felt the final pulses rushing up from between my legs and that wonderful release as I came.

First a big hot splat on my chest, then another on my belly. Rob didn’t stop jacking me. I could feel and hear my hot sticky cum squishing between his fingers as it lubed my shaft. Soon I was in a position that if he didn’t stop I’d have to admit that I was awake. I was just too sensitive.

Just as I was about to admit defeat and sit up, Rob stopped. I moaned as if still asleep and moved slightly upon the sheets. I could feel Rob getting up from my bed and moving to the bathroom.

Within moments a moist hot washrag was cleaning me. Rob was washing my cock! It felt so fine being cared for so nicely after being away from my wife for so long. I still didn’t move, I still kept of the charade of sleep and let him clean me up.

Then when I knew he was done, as if still asleep I pulled at my covers up and rolled over on my side away from him. God that had been so fucking hot. I wasn’t queer, and I didn’t think Rob was either so I was at a loss to explain what had just happened.

Then I heard the springs of his bed start to squeak rhythmically. He was jacking off! I had the sudden urge to get up and offer my services to him, after all he’d just given me the best cum ever. But to do that I’d have to admit that I’d been awake while he jacked me off.

Fuck it, he’s my buddy, and it’s the least I could do, I thought, as I turned over to get out of bed…

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It was New Year’s Eve. I lived in an apartment with three roommates. We’ve lived together for four years. It’s out tradition to write a small list of things we’d like to accomplish in the next years. Then at 11pm, we’d put them in a hat and pick one. Who ever list we got, we’d help them achieve at least one of their goals; and the fun part and tricky part was we weren’t supposed to know who got our list. I always have one goal that is a funny, just for kicks. This year my funny goal was at 11:55 to ring in the new year having sex and if the timing is right have an orgasm at the stroke of midnight. Because of our tradition we stayed home on New Years Eve have a party with just us, and a few close friends. Well at 11 pm, we picked our lists. Our friends had wondered why we were the only ones drawing papers and we told them once again. And we just kept having a good time.

At 11:45, I walked out on the balcony to think of the past year and wondering what the New Year will bring. Ryan came up to me, she kissed me on the neck, “You ok?” I just nodded her off. She brought me a beer. We talked a minute or two and she told me to follow her. She pulled me into our room. Ryan and I share a room and Sharon and Kim share a room. The party was still going on. I had forgotten my list and I didn’t know what she was doing. She flipped on the black light and pulled me to the bed. She kissed me some more. We started stripping each other, in a few short seconds we were laying on the bed naked. I looked over at the clock it was 11:58 and it clicked my funny goal. She went down on my pussy and licked my inner thigh. She caressed my breasts with one hand and rubbing my pussy with her other hand. The clocked changed to 11:59. And she went back to work. She sucked gently on my clit, teasing me badly. I pleaded with her to fuck me, but she wouldn’t listen. She kept stroking my breasts and quickly fingering my pussy and licked my clit. Our guests started to count down 10… 9… 8… 7… and so on. With each, second I screamed a little, by the time they got to 3… 2… I was ready the pop at 1 I had a massive orgasm. Everyone was cheering and screaming outside and I let go, I squirted all over her face, moaned, and screamed. Kim opened the door; Ryan was next to me caressing my body under the covers. Kim said “Happy New Year!” came in, and closed the door. She smiled sat on the edge of the bed, slipped her hand under the sheet and slipped her finger my pussy and rubbed a little. I couldn’t breath the orgasms rolling through my body. They both lay beside me caressing me until I was fully conscious. Ryan said, “You’ve accomplished one thing.” Kim just smiled. The beginning of a New Year, started well.

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So, you have your eye on a special lady. The kind that you can see coming before she arrives. The type that sets off plate tectonics by going for a jog. If Monica Villreal was real, she’d turn a shade of green with envy. You want her, and badly. What do you do first? You put on the brakes, Sparky, and you read this. Hopefully, a little advice from someone who’s been around the block a few times will keep you from pooching what could be a wonderful deal.

Firstly, no matter how clever or witty you think it may sound in your head, resist the temptation to make one of your first comments about the bosomy babe’s obvious assets. Remarks like ‘Those look awfully heavy; why not let me hold them for you?’ or your best Chris Farley ‘Holy shnikeys! Get a load of those sweater-monkeys!’ are only going to get you one place, and it’s not where you want to be. The Schmuck List. The truth is, just about every woman with such an obvious, appreciable asset has heard every joke man has ever dreamed up about it already. You won’t be establishing yourself as a wit, just as another drooler. This is what we call A Bad Thing.

You should do your best to tuck that lustful admiration into the back of your mind and focus a lot more on getting to know the lady herself. As tough as it may sound, put her mind-boggling bazooms out of your mind. Instead, try asking a lot of open-ended questions about her. Hobbies, favorite foods, recent movies she’s seen, classics she loves, and so on. This will let her know that you’re interested in learning more about her than just her cup size. Women love to know that you want to get to know them as a person, not just as something as shallow as a tight, peachy ass or a ginormous pair of milk-jugs. Now, if you and she spend a fair amount of time together, and she finds your presence palatable, you’re ready to move along to the next step.

Nextly, try a date or two, to get to know more about her. Again, try not to steer conversation back to her obvious assets, or she’ll suspect ulterior motives behind your initial kindness. Also remember to be honest about yourself. To my experience, women can smell a phony like a fart in a car. If you’re not a blow-dried James Dean ladykiller, don’t try to puff yourself up like one. Likewise, you’ll look awfully silly when you have her over to your place and don’t even have the guitar skills of a ‘white Jimi Hendrix’, let alone a classic Fender Stratocaster. Be very careful of what you brag about, and how much. We all like to put on a good face, but keep it under control if you don’t want to come off as another Pinocchio. Once the mask slips, it’s as good as over. Another good tip is to leave your own drama at home. Don’t lug baggage along onto a date. People go on dates to have fun, not listen to sob stories and throw pity-parties. If you want her to want to spend time with you, make her smile. Better, make her laugh.

But where humor is concerned, take your cues from her. Pay attention to the kinds of jokes she tells, and the things she finds funny. If she gets bold enough to tell a naughty joke, it’s just her way of showing she can let her hair down, and proving that yes, she acknowledges her own sexuality instead of trying to deny it. NOTE: This is not a cue for you to launch into the story of the preacher and two nuns that accidentally walk into a donkey show.

In American society, it’s not unusual for people to be on a medication or two for issues like depression, anxiety, or one of a dozen other mental instabilities. If the lady of your (wet) dreams labors under the weight of a reliance on a prescription, try to be cool about it. If she warns you about signs of her dosage wearing off, pay attention and tread just a bit lightly if you see them. However, if taking her meds includes wrapping a tourniquet around her arm to make her veins stand out and then self-injecting antipsychotic drugs, then you’ve got a genuine bunny-boiler on your hands. There’s only one safe thing to do. Run. Run like the Antichrist himself wants your ass cherry, and all the Hounds of Hell are right behind him, waiting to tear apart whatever he throws them when he’s done. Change your phone number too, if you’ve given it. Pursuit and wooing are one thing, abuse is another. Don’t stick around for any, even if she’s an H-cup. There are other fish in the sea.

Now, assuming you’ve been on a successful date, and she has expressed a desire to see you again (You lucky mook!) you’ve only got one more rule to follow. DON”T FUCK IT UP NOW. It’s a lot safer to err on the side of discretion, rather than pushing for things to go farther than she wants, sooner than she would like. If she enjoys spending time with you, she’ll want to spend more time around you. It’s a beneficial, vicious social circle. People enjoy enjoying themselves. If you need some clues as far as pitching woo without going overboard, try watching the movie The Tao of Steve. Don’t live it line for line, but take a few hints.

With any luck, the hints I’ve given you have gotten you her attention without tripping her creep alarm. It’s up to you to handle the rest. Once you reach this point, go do that voodoo that you do. If things go well, you’ll be the guy smiling because your voluptuous vixen is going home with you after club-time, instead of the sweaty, jaw-dropped loserboy who bellows over the music, ‘Holy shnikeys! Get a load of those sweater-monkeys!’