Part One

For ten years I had dutifully ridden behind my husband on his Harley. God what a noisy machine! I like quiet. My helmet broke some of the potato-potato-potato noise, thank god, and for a long time I wore earplugs underneath; that helped a lot. Then my great aunt died and left me with some money. Not a huge amount, but enough that I felt like I could splurge on a motorcycle of my own. 

I got a Honda Gold Wing. It is wonderfully quiet. In fact, with my helmet I could almost pretend I was only hearing the subtle sounds of a luxury automobile around me.

Of course we had to take a nice one-week trip to break it in. A really cute sales guy showed me how to program my trip planner, a GPS with map unit built into my dashboard (or whatever you call it on a motorcycle). I splurged on the XM Radio option and the airbag too. And of course that ultimate in female “take care of me” splurge, the tire pressure monitor. The XM fed into the earphones that were fit into my helmet. The lap of luxury, for sure. Kevin, my hubby, insisted that I get the ABS brakes. So I added some saddlebags and the large storage compartment in the back where no one will sit. It holds as much as my suitcase did!

My scooter was a nice candy apple red and steel grey, love that color combination.

I’m a pretty darned good rider. I grew up a tomboy, and one of the things I did as a kid was ride competitively on the BMX bikes. None of my brothers could keep up with me. That always pissed them off. But hey, that isn’t my problem, is it?

The first day of the trip we rode from our house to the Oregon coast just above Florence. We found a room and walked to dinner after our showers. I had my little black dress carefully packed in my rear storage boot. I looked like a billion dollars. My perky boobs were all out on display, and enviable, if I do say so myself. Men kept staring, even turning to watch me as I walked by on my husband’s arm. Dang that makes a girl feel good!

We had seafood; I had blackened halibut, and it was fantastic! Cajun style, don’t ya know!

We watched the sun set out on the patio while we sat holding hands, sipping our beverages.

I have to confess that riding motorcycles make me horny. I think it’s the vibrations. I was fantasizing about what lascivious things I was going to do to hubby when we got back to the motel when he suddenly recognized an old buddy in the crowd.

Kevin jumped up and went over to his friend’s table, leaving me sitting there alone. After about twenty minutes, a band started up inside. The sun was down, so I finally decided to go inside and listen to the band. Being an apparently single gal in a bar, I got a number of offers to dance. I accepted every offer. I love to dance. And I took great satisfaction in knowing Kevin didn’t have a clue where I had gone. Several of the guys pulled me close on the slow ones, and I didn’t resist. I was now officially hornier than a stag in rut, but I didn’t accept any of the guys offers to go back to their tables or their room either, although I was tempted by several good looking studs. One guy squeezed my butt cheek after he patted it. I grinned at him but still refused to go outside with him.

Finally Kevin found me, his asshole buddy tagging along behind him.

Then Kev introduced me to Jon. Jon was a large man, not in his belly, but tall and broad shouldered. And oh my god did he have a tight tiny ass! And large hands. I have to admit that I am inordinately susceptible to men with large hands and a tiny little ass below big broad shoulders.

Jon was perfect! If I were a movie producer, I would have cast him in a starring role of some big spy movie with lots of gunplay and killing, and gorgeous women he would successfully seduce.

Despite his incredible good looks, Jon’s eyes were his best feature. He looked like an old soul, a heartfelt honest, sincere, you-can-trust-me-with-your-virginity kind of look in his eyes.

I hate to be blunt, but my bunny was pounding in need, and there was this gorgeous, perfect assed man looking at me with those soulful eyes, eyes that I could have happily drowned in.

I am sure that I stared back at him a lot. In fact, I know it, because my husband started getting a little possessive of me. You know how a woman can tell that her jealous husband is getting possessive, I assume.

Somehow it came out that Jon had no place to stay that night. I was too busy mooning into his handsome face to know exactly how that subject came up, but it did. And suddenly he had been invited to stay in our room! My husband rationalized that we did after all have two king sized beds and only needed one.

I was a little further gone than I realized, I guess, because I quipped, “Hon, you know how horny I get when we ride the scooters. You have got to make love to me or I won’t be able to sleep.”

Kev’s face turned bright red.

Jon’s face showed shock, but his eyes flickered down to my delectable girls for a few seconds. Several times, I might add.

Jon got this little smile on his face, then said, “That’s okay, I’ll put my head under the pillow to give you privacy.” He chuckled as those soulful eyes of his ensnared my skyrocketing libido.

I have no idea where my next statement came from, but I blurted out, “Don’t you dare! You are to watch every move I make!”

Kevin actually fell out of his chair.

Luckily no flies flew into Jon’s mouth while his jaw was resting on his chest.

I could feel an intense pressure in my nipples, and an eagle sized flutter in my tummy. I think I may have even had a small orgasm sitting there while the guys just stared at me; Jon’s gorgeous eyes were trying hard not to stare at my obviously erect nipples.

After an eternity, Kev said, “Yeah right!” His face showed a bit of peevishness, then he seemed to collect his wits around him and decide that I wasn’t serious. “Let's get back to the motel so we can get an early start tomorrow. We have a long way to go.” We had talked about stopping in Carmel the next night. That would be a long one-day ride.

When Jon went into the bathroom, Kev quickly mounted me and shot his present into me in what had to be less than thirty seconds! And of course, in less than a minute he was asleep! I could not believe it! I was horny as could be and my husband just pulled a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am? I felt betrayed!

I was leaning back against the headboard, the sheet pulled up around me to my neck, when Jon came out of the bathroom. I must have looked very upset, because Jon asked me what was wrong.

Rather than answer, I simply stood up, letting the sheets fall to the bed, and walked over to his bed, pulled back the covers, laid down, my legs widely spread. I was staring at him as I held myself fully exposed that way.

Jon’s gorgeous eyes stared at my sullied, exposed, gaping bunny hole. “My god, he’s already fucked you? Aw shit, I’m sorry, pardon my language.” He was staring at my husband’s sperm leaking out of me. His penis rose under his towel.

I looked straight at him and said, “Now it’s your turn, stud. Do what my husband can’t, make me cum a couple of dozen times.” I was half kidding . . . but . . . I was also half serious. I think I was more turned on in that moment than ever before or since. I know that Kev snores continuously when he sleeps, and he rarely (if ever) wakes up during the night. Especially after we have had sex.

And I was with this incredible hunk of a man that was obviously horny for some action, just like me.

“What about . . .” Jon tossed his head toward the sleeping snorer.

“He’s out till tomorrow morning. We have all night to have our fun. He left me high and dry, so I’ve decided this is what he gets in return. This is payback.” I reached up under the towel and snagged Jon’s penis in my hand. He was hard as a steel crowbar.

I tugged his shaft toward my sperm coated opening and guided him in. He offered no resistance. I started kissing him, writhing against him. I was humping his prick for all I was worth. I started cumming almost the moment he hit bottom.

Jon held himself still while I rode him hard. I came multiple times in rapid succession, one orgasm blending into the next. Jon’s huge hands enjoyed and pleasured my titties while his steely prick gave me orgasm after orgasm.

“Cum in my baby, cum in me,” I begged.

“You sure?” he moaned.

“Oh god yes! Cum in my bunny, fill me with your sperm. Give me every spermie you’ve got in your balls baby. Fill my womb with your cum. Do me like you own me.”

And Jon did. His feral grunt lasted for what had to be a minute. His splashes of hot, liquid gold kept ricocheting about deep within me. I could feel his scalding heat as it gushed within me, splashing over and over onto what could only have been my thirsty cervix.

I came for the eternity that he was saturating my womb. Finally we both collapsed, gasping for air.

“Leave it inside me to soak, honey. Leave it in there to drain out, and mingle with my juices and Kev’s spermies. Leave your gorgeous steel hard cock inside me where it fits so perfectly.”

We did the thing at least four more times that night, interspersed with short bouts of sleep.

Jon enjoyed me one last time just before Kev awakened. I had barely slipped back into our own bed, with my husband, when Kev woke up. Jon was just trotting into the bathroom to shower. I watched his tiny little butt as it moved away from me. How could I possibly feel my moisture again so soon?

A couple of minutes later, Kev looked over to see if Jon was in bed, realized he was in the shower, then crawled onto me and slipped his morning pee-hard into my saturated, sloppy vagina. He started pumping me as he looked down at me. I could feel Jon’s cum running out of me with each thrust my husband made. “God I had sexy dreams last night! I’m so horny I could be a billygoat!” And with that, he came in me. Even more sperm slid down and across my anus.

It turned out that Jon had a scooter too. An Italian Ducati. My husband talked Jon into traveling with us for that whole trip. I had to work hard at not laughing in delight. I even managed to be demure when Kev asked if I would mind if Jon came along. I shyly suggested that we could all share a room to save us travel costs during the trip . . . .

Kev pulled his 30-second wonder stunt every evening, and Jon would then delight the be-jeeziz out of me for the rest of the night, for that whole blissful trip.

Our son Jon was fourteen years old when I confessed to Kevin what had happened. By that age it was obvious whose son Jon was. He was the spitting image of his genetic father, right down to his tiny little butt and his huge hands and his soulful eyes.

Kevin came hard that night, which didn’t surprise me all that much.

I haven’t seen Jon Sr. again. But he is still the man I jill to when Kev comes too soon, which is most of the time. I found a penis shaped dildo that is just the right size, right hardness and the right color, a nearly perfect match for Jon Sr.’s steely masterful member. It lives, lusts and breathes in the drawer beside my bed. I still use it at least five times a week; and every time I use it I make love to Jon Sr. again. In my fantasies, my virile lover always treats me like the secret insatiable slut I really am inside.

That Motorcycle Trip 2

My son Jon and husband Kevin were standing there grinning at me.

“What?” I asked. Jon took the bag of groceries from my arms while Kev took my hand and led me to the kitchen table.

“Sit down, Honey. We have a surprise for you,” Kev said, obviously bursting with the suspense of the surprise.

Bewildered, I sat down. Jon took one hand and Kev took my other one.

“WHAT!?” I said, maybe a little too loudly, but I do not do well with suspense. They both know that and love to torture me with it every chance they get.

Jon laughed. “Tell her, Dad! Let’s not make her suffer this time.”

Kev looked at me with an unusually piercing look. “How does Hawaii sound? Two weeks. We leave the day after Jon’s graduation!”

“REALLY!” I screamed. “Hawaii!?”

We all jumped up and did our little family dance in which my son and my husband and I all twirl around in a circle and jump up and down at the same time. This had been our family dance since a week after Jon was born.

I had tears of joy running down my cheeks. “I am so proud of you, Jon! So proud!” I looked at Kev. “Don’t we have just the best son in the world?” I asked.

Jon was graduating a term early. He was also graduating with a 4.45 grade average. Unlike when I was in school, they count the pluses, so an A is recorded as a 4.5. I was so proud of him that I literally felt like I was bursting the buttons of my blouse every time I thought about it.

Every time I look at him, my son reminds me of his genetic father. Everything about him is almost an exact replica of Jon Sr.. His grin, the way he winkles his eyebrows . . . even his body language.

Something in Kev’s face showed he was thinking about something other than how spectacular our son was. But it was a fleeting facial expression that lasted only a split second, then his eyes focused on mine and he grinned. “I also could not be prouder of our son, honey. He has turned out perfectly!”

And he had. Debate team captain, full academic scholarship to the college of his choice, starting quarterback on his high school football team with four winning seasons, including a state championship, first string pitcher on the baseball team (5 perfect games), perfect grades; handsome as all get out. And he is a very caring young man as well. What else could a mother ask for?

And so, a few days later, after the four-hour Pacific flight, we landed on the Big Island. As I disembarked the airplane I glimpsed what could only be one person: Jon, my son’s father by genetic coding. I looked at Kevin with my eyebrow raised as I tilted my head at the man I had not seen for seventeen years and eight months and one week. And one day.

But who’s counting?

Obviously my husband had set this whole thing up.

I held back a few steps as Kevin and Jon Jr. walked toward Jon Sr.. I watched as the two were introduced to each other.

I could not stop myself from comparing father and son. I realized that there were a few differences. Minor differences though. I watched, my heart in my throat, as Jon Jr. stood looking at his genetic father, realization dawning in his eyes.

My vision got all blurry and I heard myself sob.

Kevin put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me tightly to him. “God they look alike, don’t they?” he said, a catch in his voice.

Jon Sr. was standing there, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he appraised his genetic son. Finally the two of them hugged for a very long time.

Kevin said in a low voice, “Jony knew this was coming. I told him that I am infertile. Which, by the way, is the self-apparent truth.”

I looked at my husband, surprised by how well he was handling his confession of his infirmities. “How long have you known?” I asked.

“Nineteen years,” he said, a slight catch in his voice.

“So you knew even before . . .?” I stammered.

“Yes,” was all he said.

I nodded as I walked behind my two Jons, father with his arm around his son’s shoulders, and Kevin with his arm around mine.

I dug out my camera and took a picture of the two strapping men ahead of me.

Our first dinner together went surprisingly well. The awkwardness was gone inside a half an hour. The food was excellent. The conversation was mostly between father and son. I could see that the two of them liked each other. I began to relax.

As we were finishing our dessert, Jony looked at me and said, “Mom, a bunch of my classmates are staying in the next hotel over. I’m going to spend the night over there with them, if that’s alright?”

I secured his room number as I adjusted to the fact that he was now an adult, not my little boy anymore. I gave my permission, even though I know he and Kevin well enough to be certain that Kevin had already given him permission.

Jony shoved his chair back, said good night to his fathers, and left.

That left me anxiously thinking about what would happen later.

I heard my husband say in a husky voice, “I want to watch this time.”

I blushed, and so did Jon.

What else was there to say?

We all got up and silently went to our hotel suite.

My heart was beating a million beats a minute. I couldn’t look at Jon, or at Kevin. Finally Jon put his finger under my chin and tilted my face up toward his. He bent low to kiss me. His kiss was everything I remembered it to be, gentle, possessive, demanding, tender, enticing, masculine, but most of all, passionate.

We kissed for a very long time, our tongues reacquainting themselves with each other, Jon’s huge hands not assuming anything, but skillful enough to recognize my positive reactions to his touches. I could feel Kevin’s eyes watching me, but was thankful that it didn’t make me too uncomfortable.

Each time Jon removed an article of my clothing, or exposed a bit of my body, I looked into his eyes to see if he was disappointed by what he saw. My body was eighteen years older, and had delivered a child, than when he had last made love to me. But not once did I see a single flicker of disappointment in his face.

His fingertips caressing my nipples seemed as natural as the first time he had done so many years before. I held my girls up for his kisses and suckles, watching his joy at once again touching my breasts.

Long suppressed feelings of passion began to erupt within me. The flames of need were licking at my cleft, my nipples aching for the tugging pinches that I crave so much.

As my passions rose, I got in a hurry, and soon had Jon’s member in my hand, and then in my mouth as I reveled in his steely hardness again. Almost frantically I removed my panties and dress. Jon’s huge hands and thick fingers in my wetness made me quiver in desperation.

“Kevin . . . hon . . . you guide him into me!” I demanded as I lay back onto the bed, raised my legs and spread my thighs.

Kevin’s eyes were glued to my glistening bunny hole as he took Jon’s steel hardness and guided it to its proper destination. Jon slid slowly into me as my fantasies of eighteen years came true.

As I had the first time, I furiously humped my lover’s pole as I shuddered and moaned in a long series of linked orgasms. When I was partially sated, I began kissing Jon with more passion than I had felt in eighteen years. My hips were still pulsing up and down under his large well-formed frame.

I heard Kevin murmur, “Good lord! So this is what I’ve been missing!”

I was too turned on to respond. I just kept humping the perfect little butt that was between my thighs. I could tell by Jon’s grimace that he was getting close. Unable to edit my words, I begged Jon to “fuck me hard you big stud! Fuck me hard and deep and cum in my cunt like a real man does! Make another baby in me! Breed me like you did last time, you darling hunk of man!”

And Jon did cum. He slammed into me so hard that I thought his member would come out my throat. He held his hips against me as he discharged surge after surge of sperm into my pulsing quivering vagina. His grunts of soul wrenching release echoed through the room.

I lay there for few minutes before I looked over at my husband. He was leaned back in his chair, his hips held up off the seat of the chair, his eyes were glassy, and his cock was rock hard sticking straight up, pulsing as it quivered.

Jon rolled off of me.

“Come here and reclaim your wife’s bunny, baby,” I coaxed in a long sigh of happiness.

Kev’s eyes focused slightly, he carefully got up from his seat. He slowly walked to the bed, then carefully moved between my thighs. With two delicate fingers I guided his pulsing shaft to my sodden, gaping, sperm-rinsed cleft, then watched as he sank slowly into me. “Oh god so silky . . . so smooth . . .” he muttered. His penis was only halfway in when he erupted. He fell asleep on top of me as I caressed his head and back, cooing my ‘I love you’s to him.

Jon helped me roll him off of me. We showered and went back downstairs to the pool area and enjoyed the Jacuzzi.

Jon looked at me for a long time before he asked me if I was happy. I had to think for a very long time before I answered him. Finally I said, “Jon, you turn me on more than my husband ever has. Everything about you is perfect. Especially how you sex me. I might even, one day, be able to fall in love with you. But I know that I do love my husband with a love that is precious in its own right. And I can’t give my son, OUR son, a broken home to come home to. I suppose in the best of all worlds I would have both you and Kev to live with. I have fantasized about sex with you almost every day since we were first together.” I stopped talking for a little while as I stared into the gentle soulful eyes that so inflated my libido and caressed my heartstrings. “I wish I could be shared by both of you, to tell the truth.”

Jon smiled. “Sounds good to me. Let’s make it happen!”

We talked it over with Kevin the next morning, and he agreed that I could spend time with both of them as I saw fit.

All I could think of was, “Can this really be happening to me?”

Jon moved to the city where my son is going to college. So when I visit Jon Sr., I get to see my son as well.

How much more perfect can a woman’s life be?

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Copyright Deni Wom 2011

Edited by James Friedman