My First Time

(various)

Tales of experiencing that first time. Some of them may be true.

  1. 19 HR AGO

    College Laundry

    Two shy students escalate their encounter doing laundry.By smj895. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. Kindra dropped the correct change into the last washer and hit Start. She had two weeks’ worth of clothing to clean. This was a several hour affair, but it was a Friday night after dark and what else was she going to do, really? In fact, she already had her activity ready. Out came her tablet, preloaded with pirated movies. She didn’t bother wearing earbuds. The noise of the washers drowned out the sounds of her device, and no one else was around. Up? Probably. Around? No way. Not for a while anyway. About twenty minutes into her first movie, she noticed someone else walk into the college dorm laundry room. “Oh. Sorry!” she instinctively said. She looked up. It was a tall, thin boy, probably her age (19), and with unkempt but short dark sandy blonde hair. “No, no, it’s fine,” he replied. He moved around her to the free washers, dropping in his load, then the detergent, and finally his change. He moved to the opposite side of her, leaning back against a dryer after fiddling with his phone. Kindra went back to her movie. This was awkward, but that was college life for you, wasn’t it? Wasn’t this supposed to be the “college experience?” Meeting new people? Forcing opportunities to meet new people, if that wasn’t really your thing? Like Kindra’s? She noted his loose-fitting clothes and lanky figure, and then sort of ignored him. “What movie is that?” he asked. Crap, Kindra thought. She forgot to put in earbuds. “Uh, just a flick,” she half-lied. She was silent for a little bit. “What are you listening to?” As a response, the boy pulled out one earbud. The music was a genre Kindra didn’t particularly enjoy, but certainly could respect. “That’s pretty cool,” she told him. “What are you studying?” he asked. “Chemistry. You?” “Mech E.” Mechanical Engineering. So they shared maybe one class - Chem 101 - and she already tested out of that her sophomore year. …Of high school. No chance of seeing him around campus. The next twenty minutes passed in silence. A buzzer went off, then another, and a third. Kindra moved her clothes to the dryer and deposited her next round of change. She went back and sat in front of the washers. “I’ve, um… I’ve seen you around before, I think,” she started. He looked up. “What’s your name?” “Wallace,” he said. “Kindra. Nice to meet you,” she smiled. “Nice to meet you too,” he smiled back. — It was only a week when Kindra went back to the laundry room. She learned her lesson this time. She only had a load and a half, so she made two mostly-full loads and started the washers. Not five minutes passed when Wallace walked in with a load of his own. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Happy coincidence!” Kindra blushed a little. That was a cute gesture. “How was your week?” she asked. “Good. Quizzes on Tuesday, test on Thursday. I had most of today off.” “Shouldn’t you be out partying with your friends?” “I don’t really have many yet. I see a bunch of guys in study groups, but that’s purely academic,” he joked. She nodded. “What about you?” She blushed a little harder. “Oh, my roommate has a boyfriend who likes to… uh… occupy the room?” Wallace laughed. “Wow. So you’re kinda relegated down here, huh?” Kindra laughed back. “I mean, I guess!” Before they knew it, the buzzers went off. Kindra moved her loads over and Wallace moved to sit next to her. “Mind if I watch?” he asked courteously. Kindra hesitated for a moment. Not out of fear - nothing about this boy sprang any red flags. She just wasn’t expecting it. She nodded and looked down to hide her blush. — The next week, the two of them found additional excuses to go do laundry. They hadn’t exchanged numbers yet, but somehow they knew the other would be there. Kindra and Wallace grew closer together as they moved closer together in the laundry room. To his credit, she noticed, Wallace didn’t make any move on her. She hadn’t had a really successful relationship in the past, but she wasn’t opposed to her first collegiate flirt being this boy. It was another Friday when she made her move. She packed up her dry laundry and waved goodbye. “Catch ya next time!” she smiled cheerily. Wallace waved back. She went up one floor and entered her room, stuffing the clean clothes under her bed. Her roommate wasn’t present, thankfully. She didn’t care where; just so she didn’t come back till much later. Kindra waited at the door expectantly. She was nervous. She had always been shy. This was a big leap for her. But… “college experience,” right? Wallace knocked at the door. “Uh… Kindra? Are you in this room?” She waited a few seconds before opening the door. “Oh, uh…” Wallace started, “You uh… left this-” he held up one of her socks. He stopped when he noticed she was in a jet black hoodie but not any pants. She grabbed the outstretched arm and pulled him into the room. She embraced him and inhaled deeply. He hadn’t showered yet. His young musk emanated off him. Good. She wasn’t brave enough to look up at him so she just hugged him closer. Wallace was dumbfounded. “Um… Hey, I-” He didn’t have a clue what to say. His body began moving on its own, and Kindra was fully consenting to it. Kindra looked up and her face appeared, her long dark hair flowing behind her, her pale barely-pudgy skin soft as her oversized hoodie. She stood up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek. That was all he needed. He leaned down and smooched her lips passionately. She walked backwards, leading them both to the bed. Kindra was by no means unattractive, but she didn’t exercise - at all - and she was still very self-conscious about her body. Besides; this oversized hoodie was very comfortable. Wallace leaned into her as she parked her butt up on the bed. She obediently lay down on her back, letting him tower over her with this long body. Her small height made that easier. He moved his kisses down her neck and began fondling her breasts. She touched his jean zipper. “You have a condom?” she whispered. He nodded. She nodded back and immediately opened his pants. She couldn’t see him but got her first feeling of him. His penis was erect, rock-hard, molten hot to the touch of her fingers. He shivered at the gentle brush of her soft fingertips. His skin felt smooth over the hard muscle. She guestimated maybe six inches long. Her second hand reached beyond and touched his leathery scrotum. His two balls were full and low-hanging. Good signs. Wallace’s own hands acted now. They pulled at her striped panties and they slid off both legs. He withdrew the condom from his pocket and handed it to her, kissing her soft white skin all over. She fumbled to get the condom on his bulging member though neither seemed to mind, or notice. She finally got it on and stared into his dark hazel brown eyes. He returned the stare into her pale green eyes. Wallace slowly dipped his throbbing member into her waiting vagina. She didn’t have a hymen to push through. His penis slid in satisfyingly, snugly, fully. She moaned. He grunted. And the work began. He slid in and out of her. His hot cock pressed against her insides, and her insides responded by covering him in her love juices. Her arms and legs wrapped around this thin body. She needed his companionship so bad. She’d had no idea but it was true. Here he was, on her bed, on her, inside of her, making love to her. Wallace pushed himself up to look at her. Her body recoiled, a little bit, but all he saw was soft, quiet, hidden beauty. All she saw was the chiseled set of abs and loose-fitting shirt of the tall man claiming his newest conquest. Oh God, but did his cock fill her up! He was so big she couldn’t contain her moans of ecstasy! And his own grunts, oh, they sounded so manly and urgent and brutish! He needed her, she needed him!… “I’m cumming!” he whispered. “Outside!” she ordered. He pulled out. His fingers slipped on the condom, it was so wet. Once he got it off he started stroking vigorously with a whole hand. Kindra panted and watched him work it. His moans crescendoed into a deafening silence as his semen spurted out. It landed in ropy globs on her soft, black hoodie. Finished with his release, Wallace sat back. Both of them panted heavily. “Well…” she said happily. “Guess I have more laundry to do.” By smj 895 for Literotica.

  2. 1 DAY AGO

    Christmas Cockie Exchange: Part 3

    Three French Hens and Lingerie.Based on a post by SandyMarl, in 4 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.  Three French HensRising the next morning after enjoying the contented sleep of a delicious bad girl; Dana mopped up the chocolate mess and had just put a new tablecloth on the table when she received a text. She saw that Patricia had sent her a message. She giggled aloud in her empty house, feeling that she knew what she was about to read. ‘Dana, I hope you will be home tonight. I’d like to drop off supper and a surprise Christmas package for you. Let me know if you’ll be available this evening - Patricia.’ Dana replied, 'I Will be ready for your surprise package. What Will I do with your generosity? I Will be so looking forward to tonight!’ Dana didn’t intend to spoil Patricia’s 'surprise package’ delivery; but by now Patricia knew that Dana was wise to the Twelve Days of Christmas themes arriving at her house, courtesy of The Chix 'Hubby Exchange’. Almost more than the expected sex with Patricia’s husband Will, Dana was curiously excited to find out how Three French Hens were going to fit into her boudoir. When Dana’s doorbell rang, she arranged herself in the hallway mirror, resettled her boobs in her next-fanciest white lace bra that was almost concealed behind her low-cut, high-class dressy satin snow-white blouse. When she answered the door, the kid at the door smiled as Dana greeted him. After an awkward, cheeky stare at her tits, he handed her the bag of roasted chicken and all the fixin’s. Dana gave the kid an eyeful as his parting words were, “Don’t cook tonight - Call Chicken Delight! Thanks for your order, Ma'am.” The delivery boy took one last glance before leaving her porch. Dana thought about calling after him, 'Have a Merry Fucking Christmas,’ but thought that she’d save the teasing for the next fellow who rang her bell. Will pulled up to the curb as the delivery boy’s car pulled away. Will trotted to the open door where Dana was waiting for him. Will looked flustered. “Damn. I was supposed to surprise you with dinner. Looks like I’m the one who is surprised by dinner’s quick arrival.” “And you left me holding the bag,” said Dana in a provocative tone as she lifted the steaming bag in front of Will’s nose. Will looked doubly flustered. “Oh shit. Excuse me Dana, I forgot something in my truck.” Will trotted back to the curb and grabbed a gift box and came back to where Dana was waiting for him with a half-undone blouse. By the Third Day of Christmas, Dana had a good idea of how this exchange was supposed to play out. But she wasn’t above playing along, or at least playing Will. Dana looked out the door, “Where’s Patricia? She promised me an exciting holiday package.” Dana was enjoying the recurring theme and the surprise packages being delivered to her door. Will stepped inside, shut the door and bolted it behind him, handing a scroll tied with a festive green ribbon to the woman smiling at him, acting surprised. “What’s this?” Dana asked as she cocked her head, taking the scroll from Will. “This is all so mysterious,” acknowledged Dana with her eyes and smile flashing in obvious enjoyment of another installment of the unfolding mystery in her entry hall. Dana unfurled the scroll, knowing what was written inside, yet once again feeling a warm flush sweep across her face as she red Patricia’s words. Dana inhaled; a crinkle grew at the corner of her eyes; Patricia had sent her husband Will over to her as a gift to give her 'a night of holiday magic’. In Patricia’s written introduction she implied that perhaps Will’s stag arrival was not a surprise to her, but Will was not aware that he was visiting her as the bearer of gifts that tied him to The Third Day of Christmas, part of the husband exchange plotted right after The Chix cookie exchange. Patricia wrote that Will was 'prepared to fulfill her wish list’, and that rumors were circulating among The Chix that she had made it to the top of Santa’s naughty girl list. According to the instructions, all she had to do was 'Have a Merry Fucking Christmas.’ Patricia signed off with, 'And Good Will to all and to all a good night.’ “Well, well, what do we have here?” she asked as she dropped her glance to the gift-wrapped box in Will’s hands. Will looked at Dana, “Did you read Patricia’s introductory remarks on the scroll Dana?” Will of course had seen her reading it but was expecting more of a reaction from her as the purpose for his evening visit was spelled out for the attractive widow lady who had long been inside their close circle of friends. “Oh yes. I’ve red and understood your introduction quite clearly.” Dana used a husky, seductive voice to emphasize her intimate understanding of what was ahead for the two of them. “But I must know, what’s in the box?” Dana’s unfazed manner, sexy outfit and flirty ease with him put Will in a randy mood, thinking that he’d lucked into some sexy games between Dana and his wife. If Dana didn’t seem to mind, he was certainly game. And he brought his own Christmas toys. “You get to open the box after supper. Not before then - and no peeking!” “It’s you that has been doing the early peeking Will,” Dana thrust her boobs forward, letting the half buttoned top fall further open to reveal her white lace cups filled with full tits as she shook them with the intention to set off a growing erection inside of Will’s pants. After the supper dishes were cleared, Dana made a play for the present. Will snatched it from her clutches, saying that “This gift was selected by Patricia, but she has entrusted it to me to give it to you. She seemed certain that you would find it appropriate for any kind of mischief that we might want to get into.” Will smiled a sheepish smile, not sure about presenting such a gift to a lady friend. Relying on his wife’s assurances that Dana would love it, he placed it in Dana’s hands. Dana tore into the gift wrapping and let out a gasp and then a giggle escape as she opened the box. “What’s this?” Dana was beaming as she lifted the pink oval object from its case and held it in the palm of her hand. “I’ve been told that you might be expecting something along the lines of a chicken or hen theme. What you hold in your hand is for your holiday evening pleasure - as am I. I am your rooster, er; may I correct that, I am your barnyard cock. I present you, my hen, a vibrating egg.” Will had gained his confidence over dinner and was enjoying toying with his hostess as she marveled at the gift sex toy. Dana didn’t want to pry and outright ask Will if he and Patricia had used a vibrating sex toy before, but she was sure that it wasn’t too difficult to guess how to use it. Will walked behind where Dana sat, he brushed his fingers through her hair. “Do you remember way back when, when you and Sander helped me out by giving me some tips on the best way to make my moves on Patricia?” “Umm yeah, I remember all of that pretty well. You weren’t the fumbling geek that you thought you were, you just needed a little direction and a lot of confidence. I guess that Sander and I turned you into a star lover.” “Well, you may not have turned me into the latest and greatest Casanova; but at least you did give me great advice and let me practice with a real woman. Dana, you got me off to a solid start. Patricia is ever grateful to you for knocking off my awkward edges, if only she knew all the schooling that you put into my romancing behavior. Once I took your advice and employed your patented instructions of hot techniques to win a girl, I was off to the races. Patricia was able to pick it up from there.” Will finished his remembrances with a small chuckle. “Let’s see, if I remember my early lessons; Lesson One: atmosphere is important. Come my fine teacher, join me on the couch and you can test me on what I learned from you.” Will took Dana by the hand, escorting her to the living room. “Lesson Two in winning a girl was what? Oh yes, I think I remember; take her slowly, don’t scare her, make her comfortable with you and she will come to you on her own. Did I get that right?” Will petted Dana in a slow and easy casual caress, seeking feedback from his former romance instructor. Dana nestled into Will, “That’s right, but that lesson mostly applies to a man’s first approach to a girl. We’ve both been through this together before. Given our mutual experiences, I think we can skip the slow part this time. I’m not scared, and a faster pace would be fine with me tonight, young man.” Will began to pick up the pace, undressing Dana as she enjoyed the confident attention from the man whom she once had to advise on how to undress a woman. Will had peeled Dana down to her set of snowy white lace bra and panties, he came in close to kiss her and told her she “looked like a pretty white snowflake, a unique beauty, yet the hottest of all the fallen snowflakes. If you catch my drift.” Dana smiled her appreciation at Will’s compliment, “Patricia told me that I should expect to find a surprise holiday package - may I?” She asked without waiting for an answer, reaching up to undo Will’s pants. Dana dropped his pants and underpants to his ankle and was not surprised to find his cock decorated with a green bow. “This must be the pretty package of which Patricia spoke,” feigning surprise. “Oh look, you come with a label,” Dana removed the bow from Will’s willy and red the label: 'On the Third Day of Christmas, My True Friend gave to me, Three French Hens. Dear Dana, I hope you enjoy the Christmas package I’ve selected for you. Unfortunately, the Three French Hens couldn’t get their travel visa in time to arrive with the business end of this package; so, I’ve taken the liberty to include one of their vibrati

  3. 2 DAYS AGO

    Christmas Cockie Exchange: Part 2

    Two Turtle Doves, or Dildos?Based on a post by SandyMarl, in 4 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. Dana returned to the kitchen as Orlando was finishing drying the stemware. She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her tits as she tried to give a confident look, though a drunken squirrel was racing around inside her chest. Orlando folded the dish towel, set it down as he stepped to her side. He reached around her waist and pulled her close, brushing her hair back, he whispered into her ear, “Strange as it is, there are some people who have a difficult time accepting good things that are given to them. You have been given a set of good and close girlfriends Dana.” Orlando placed his fingertips at the base of her jaw, “Your pulse is beating hard, I sense that you are understandably nervous to find yourself in a position to accept or reject a special, intimate gift that has been tenderly offered to you.” Continuing to whisper into her ear in a mesmerizing, deep masculine voice. “It is my hope that you will be accepting of all the pleasures and dreams which are before you.” Dana gulped, wanting some words to come out of her throat, but nothing happened. She wasn’t sure if those stuck words ever made it onto her tongue what they would say to Orlando’s proposition. She liked the idea that they could be a ‘yes’, but something held her back from giving an answer. She let her emotions bubble hot inside of her, waiting until they were ready to come out in their own time; she wished and hoped they’d be an accepting 'yes’, but she wasn’t sure. The roaming fingers of her cooing partridge traced down the side of her neck, parting her collar from her prickly, heated skin. His fingers found her bra strap and followed it lower along the pathway that brought his touch to the slope of her tit. With one hand, the tips of his fingers ran along the upper rim of her black lacy cup while the other hand undid the top button of her blouse. Orlando breathed his warm, moist breath into her ear. “You’ve changed into something lacy since I’ve arrived,” was Orlando’s observation. “You have not given me a spoken answer as to whether you’ll accept an intimate gift, but I have gotten your subtle answer by my discovery of your hidden charms. You are a charming woman,” Orlando breathed into her ear in a husky voice, and then gave her a small kiss on the cheek. Dana let out a small moan as she unconsciously tipped her head back, exposing her throat and lifting her tits as Orlando teased her flesh as he continued with his light touch running along the contours of her bra. Her gift lover recognized the moan, the short breaths, the exposed throat and the visible flush of her chest as the tell-tale signs of a woman drifting into seduction. Dana didn’t have to speak; she had already extended an invitation in the wordless language of lovers for Orlando to take her wherever he wanted to go. Orlando worked deliberately, unfastening each button as he pressed his warm lips to her throat followed by tiny, wet touches with the tip of his tongue. Dana let his attention wash over her skin, floating on warm waves that rippled through her insides. With the bottom button undone, he rolled his fingers around her cups, petting her ribs before setting his fingers between her fingers, lifting their entwined hands and guiding Dana out of the kitchen, floating toward the back of the house. Lifting her unfastened shirt off her shoulders, Orlando tossed it over a chair in the corner and then pressed her with his palm, forcing Dana to fall back onto the bed. Dana landed on her back with a giggle, loving the feeling of being desired and taken. She placed her hands behind her head, accentuating her tits covered in the gossamer black fabric of her cups. She relished watching Orlando, waiting to see his next move. Orlando reached into the side pocket of his jacket, tossing a small bottle onto the bed. “What’s that?” asked Dana from her reclining pin-up girl pose. “Consider it 'partridge oil,’ my little chickpea. Some of us more experienced partridges find that a dab or two on a partridge’s pecker makes for smoother night’s nesting in our chosen pear tree.” Dana broke into a broad grin, “I never knew partridges were such considerate birds,” she said. “Not all partridges are, some will leave droppings on your car. But when a partridge finds an attractive limb or two, we partridges are known to be considerate nesters.” Orlando tossed his jacket over the back of the corner chair and then stripped off his shirt, shoes and socks. “Now, I believe this old, experienced partridge has found a pair of attractive limbs that interest me a great deal.” Orlando crawled onto the bed, unsnapped Dana’s pants and pulled them off as she lifted her lower limbs skyward. Orlando admired her matching lacy black panties for a moment before he swooped in and removed the pair just as he’d done with her pants. “Ah, there is a pretty little partridge nest at the top of a pair of attractive limbs,” announced Orlando, more to himself than to Dana. Dana felt shy, but at the same time pleased to be the object of a man’s intimate attention for the first time in a long time. She lay on the bed, her cunny and pubic hair exposed to Orlando’s admiring eyes while still trussed up in her bra. She squirmed over to retrieve the bottle of lubricant that Orlando had tossed onto the quilt. She shook it in front of the shirtless man lying next to her, teasing him she asked, “Don’t you have to molt or something before this 'partridge oil’ can be applied to your pecker?” She was pleased to see the fabric at his crotch stretched over a nice, rigid form. “I’m getting the urge to roost, but I’d enjoy a little more playtime.” Orlando tucked his targeted pear tree under the heavy quilt, slipping under to join her. He pulled her over to cuddle next to him. He slipped her straps off her shoulders, massaging and nibbling at her back as he unhooked the last of her garments, discarding it over the side of the bed. He rolled her onto her back, cupping and squeezing her tits as he kissed her arms, working his lips to the top of her tit, bunching her tit in his firm grip as he pushed her erect nipple into his mouth. He inhaled her exquisitely sensitive titty tip with a vigorous suction that filled his hot, wet mouth. His tongue darted and circled around her puffed up bits, sending sparks shooting into her clit. He worked her fleshy mounds over with his mouth, drooling over her melons and adding to the juicy wet sensation she was getting between her thighs. As he lapped at her nipples, caressing, licking, squeezing and mashing her mammaries with his right hand, his left hand traveled across her belly, inching its way lower on her body. Dana opened herself, thrilled to once again feel the pleasure of a man intimately handling all of her excited girl parts. Her cunny was more than moist, her breathing shallow and her brain swimming in a warm fog. Dana arched her hips as Orlando’s hand petted her bush; her little princess ached to once again be embraced by a dancing partner. It has been so long. Her warm, buttery inner parts were feeling more wonderful than she ever remembered. Orlando’s fingers passed over her dewy vulva with a firm pressure. His hand made a tight circular grinding motion before he spread her puffy lips open, probing along her slick walls, climbing up her canyon. Dana held her breath, she wanted to squeal before he got to her clit, but she held her silence with closed eyes, letting the anticipation of first contact build in her lungs and in her loins. Orlando’s fingertip crept up the underside of her rigid clit, painting her in her own sex juices. He circled her aroused bud, triggering a flash of blue electricity that shot under her skin to her toes. Dana’s hips bucked; her ass arched as she pushed her sex trigger into her lover’s fingers. He ran a couple of his fingers into her slippery cunny, drawing them up to her clit, bathing her in her own nectar. Dana burst into a series of brusque chirps, half-screaming, half-moaning as she was seized by convulsing and shaking legs. She choked out in shallow breaths, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Oh god, oh fuck. Oh, fucking fuck.” Orlando let her convulsions subside. Dana covered her eyes with her hands, gasping for breath as his fingers rested, half filling her pulsing cunny. “I could be wrong – but I’m not; you have a lot more in the tank my little chickpea.” Orlando stuffed his fingers further up inside her cunt as if he was taking the measure of her tank. He pulled out slowly, making sure he tickled her g-spot as he withdrew from her throbbing void. “I might have forgotten about the next element in your Secret Santa swap tonight, except it is so fucking uncomfortable right now. I’m afraid you’ll have to perform the final plucking of your evening’s gift partridge. I will need the skilled digits of my beautiful assistant; would you please remove my remaining apparel. I have been instructed by the one who sent me, to inform you that there is a special package waiting for you underneath.” With the glee of a young girl selecting her wrapped package from under the Christmas tree, Dana rolled on her side, unzipping Orlando’s white trousers and pulling them off. His erection was obvious under his holiday themed underwear, yet it looked as if his underwear was packing more than expected. Curious about his cock and whatever extras accompanied his package, she tugged his last bit of wrapping away to reveal the full package. Dana whooped in surprise, and laughed a hearty laugh, admiring the red bow adding a festive cheer to his stiff prick. “Oh my! Is this all for me?” she giggled. Orlando shrugged, “I suggest you read the label. If it’s not addressed to you, I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Dana picked u

  4. 3 DAYS AGO

    Christmas Cockie Exchange: Part 1

    Husbands and cookies are exchanged, to add holiday cheer.Based on a post by SandyMarl, in 4 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. The Chix Annual Christmas Cookie ExchangeMcNally topped off each of the four glasses, then tipped the bottle to her lips to make sure she’d drained the last sweet drop of Gewürztraminer. McNally smacked her lips before inserting her tongue into the brown wine bottle’s narrow orifice. “Umm, a sweet little rim job before I recycle this dead soldier,” she announced to a kitchen packed with a few of her long-time friends. “This dark guy is so sweet, I just love him,” she said as she continued her fellatio pantomime by wrapping her lips around the narrow neck as she encircled her fingers and made a couple of strokes up and down the bottle like she was finishing a masterful blow job. Her friends watched her risqué display and giggled, except for Patricia. Patricia picked through the array of Christmas cookie cutter shapes laid out at the edge of the counter, dropping her eyes as she scolded, “McNally, you should be more thoughtful of Dana. Your tipsy little joke is in poor taste in front of our hostess, especially at this time of year.” Patricia meant it as a sobering rebuke, as if any of the girls present needed to be reminded of Dana’s recently widowed status, especially around Christmas. McNally pulled the wine bottle’s phallic dimensions from her lips, setting it down and turning to Dana, “Oh crap, I’m sorry. You know I had no intention of opening painful memories; I was only trying to lift the holiday spirits with a little bawdy humor… I was just thinking…” Dana turned to McNally, “I know. I know you McNally – boy do I know you. You’re always thinking we Chix should loosen up our inhibitions and take a walk on the steamier side of life; and boy are you always ready with a risqué joke, a steamy story or a naughty pun.” Dana broke into a smile, and then spoke to her closest friends, “Hey Chix, you guys are so great! You’re the only reason I’m able to get through this time of year. Without y'all, I’d be nothing but a blubbering mess this Christmas. Facing the painful first anniversary of Sander’s passing is really hard. It’d be unbearable if I had to go through it alone. The support of my Chix means everything to me right now.” Dana forced a cheery voice and continued speaking after dusting the flour off her hands. “I insisted y'all come into my kitchen this year and fill it with holiday cheer, so it’d be like the good times we had before. I want everyone to make a big sugary mess for me to clean up and keep me busy. Our annual Chix Christmas cookie exchange is our tradition; it’s now more meaningful to me than ever. I’m dreading the holidays…” Dana paused to collect her emotions before continuing, “… as the holiday season approaches, I fear being all alone, left to deal with the memory of Sander’s skiing accident by myself. I need my Chix more than ever right now. I need something to keep my mind from dwelling on the anniversary of the accident.” Dana gave a congenial but forced looking smile to the women in her kitchen. “McNally, you go right on giving your Gewurztraminer boyfriend’s long, brown glass cock a good sucking, it’s fine with me and the rest of these kitchen voyeurs. Keep it up, all of you, be merry and I’ll find a way to get by.” Annie wiped a tear off her cheek as she stepped to Dana, wrapping her arms and her baggy, ugly Christmas sweater around Dana, managing to get cookie dough crumbs in Dana’s hair in the process. Annie hugged Dana tight, embracing her in a prolonged hold to convey her sympathy and shared grief at the loss of Dana’s husband last year. Annie teared up again as she remembered gathering with McNally and Patricia to take down the tree and put away all the festive Christmas decorations in Dana’s house as Dana planned Sander’s funeral. It was all so sad, so hard to deal with. Annie admired McNally’s flair to disregard the implicit sadness hanging over their annual Chix Christmas cookie exchange; but didn’t want to get between McNally and Patricia as they scuffled over the proper decorum in Dana’s kitchen under the circumstances. Annie let go and pulled away from her embrace, and as she did, she gasped, “Oh Dana, I’m sorry. Look what I’ve done, my dirty apron made a mess on your top. I’m sorry.” Dana laughed, “I should’ve expected this would happen, wearing black when I’m in the middle of a hen party with flour flying all over my kitchen. I thought I’d feel and look slimmer wearing black, a self-deluding effect to counteract my debauched cookie sampling today. I might as well just drop these little Santa cookies down my pants and let ‘em stick right there on my hips,” smacking her hands on her ass for emphasis. Annie, trying to make up for the accidental flour dusting, began to brush her fingers across Dana’s boobs, fussing and worrying she’d ruined Dana’s pullover. Dana laughed it off, “Annie, stop fretting, it’ll wash out, no problem. Relax. Let’s all have a good time making a mess as we bake and decorate our cookies. There’s something festive about a busy and messy kitchen. I just love it.” McNally watched from the other side of the counter as Annie dabbed and wiped the front of Dana’s chest, “I know what you’re getting for Christmas - one of those cordless hand vacuums; they market it as a bust duster.” Everyone cracked up at McNally’s pun, even Patricia. The timer went off; Patricia stepped to the oven to check on the first batch of cookies. She pulled out the cookie sheet and put it on the cooling rack. “Those look perfect,” Annie announced. “They’re not perfect until they’re decorated,” responded Dana. “They’re just plain-Jane naked right now. It’s our job to get them all dressed up in their Christmas fancy-pants.” “Oh, Patricia, can you grab the box of sprinkles and glittery decorating doo-dahs from the cupboard next to the oven?” asked Dana. Patricia set the full box of decorating doo-dahs on the kitchen table. McNally burst into song, “Doo-dah, doo-dah, Camptown ladies sing this song, all the doo-dah day!” McNally’s three friends joined in a final chorus, “Doo-dah, doo-dah, all the doo-dah day!” “Now things are starting to sound festive,” declared Dana as she mixed bowls of red and green frosting. “McNally, there’s a bottle of Riesling in the garage fridge – I know I don’t have to ask twice to get you to bring that one in and pour another round.” Annie said, “This is sounding and feeling like old times; like back in the beginning when we worked at Dix Chix. Who remembers which of us four started waitressing first at Dix?” “Wasn’t me,” was McNally’s contribution from the hallway, “I’m the youngest of the Chix.” “It could’ve been you; you’ve always had a reputation for starting early McNally,” was Patricia’s retort. McNally laughed at the ribbing. “I seem to recall that Annie got hired a few days ahead of me.” “So, when did we become collectively known as 'The Chix?’” was Dana’s follow up question. Annie answered, “It was Patricia. She advertised to all the boys that there were some interesting Chix to be found in the backroom of Dix Chix Family Restaurant after closing. If a boy had the right stuff, he could find his way into the place and get a few drinks, no ID required.” “That may be true, but I got the idea from that new girl,” said Patricia in a defensive tone. “The new girl suggested it was a crying shame that us four Chix had to close up on Friday and Saturday nights without having any cocks around to make it fun,” was Patricia’s recollection. “Being the studious college girl, Mrs. Dix trusted me with the keys and the liquor inventory.” “And who might have been the corrupting 'new girl’ who put that idea of letting some cocks into the back room with those chicks?” asked Dana with a smirk. “I hear she’s still tending bar somewhere, perhaps more corrupting than ever,” Patricia offered in an offhand guess. McNally, a seasoned barmaid, filled the wine glasses scattered around the kitchen, “I just thought it was false advertising to have a big neon sign that flashed Dix Chix, yet only the Chix half of the attraction was available. I merely suggested to the old timer running the show that if we were working to close the place on Friday and Saturday nights, we owed it to ourselves to have a crew of Dix to go with the Chix. Like the sign said.” Annie asked, “Patricia, I’ve always wondered, how did you choose which boys got an after-hours invitation to the backroom?” “I delegate,” was Patricia’s reply. “That’s why I’m management material. I consulted a trusted source.” McNally gave a curtsey acknowledging her role, and then filled in the story line, “Guys are pretty simple. I’d give the cute ones a line; 'Winner, winner, chicken dinner - Would you prefer a breast or a thigh?’ I then slipped 'em an offer, 'Come on by Dix Chix late some night this weekend for a chicken tender special – tell 'em McNally sent you.’” The three ladies exploded into hearty whoops at McNally’s explanation. Dana took a sip out of her glass, thinking for a moment, “McNally are you responsible then for introducing each of us to our future husbands? I’d never thought of it like that.” “Ultimately the Chix chooses the Dix. At least, that’s how I’d look at it. In collusion with Patricia, I merely helped sow some wild oats in that Dix Chix backroom. But I only sowed the seeds. It was the others who reaped the harvest. I must admit, I did have to run a lot of lame-cock also-rans through that backroom before some of them ended up sticking around for a while.” “Well, however you did it, Sander and I hit it off - after Patricia passed on him and I s

  5. 4 DAYS AGO

    Christmas off Campus

    Young woman finds lust and love at Christmas.By JagFarlane. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories. Mel swiped the credit card along the terminal, waited for the receipt to print, stuffed it into the restaurant’s portfolio along with a couple of Ande’s mints, and turned to stroll towards the table. She dropped it off to the table’s occupants and hurried off to the kitchen, trying to look busy though probably fooling no one. It was Christmas Eve after all and the bulk of the town’s part time residents, university students and staff, had all scattered off to home days ago leaving behind the few full time residents to keep the place from looking like a ghost town. She was a student at the university too, but had elected to remain behind this year much to the restaurant manager’s relief. Not that the money had been very good, with the vast majority of the students gone there were only a few souls that made it into the building each night and sometimes she wondered if it had even been worth it to the management to even turn on the lights. Stepping out to pick up the signed receipt and bus several dessert plates away, a glance was given to the tips section and a bit of a relieved sigh at the decent tip. At least the residents routinely tipped, she smiled a bit to herself. After taking a look around and finding no one else at any of her tables, Mel leaned up against the entranceway to the kitchen and allowed herself a quiet moment. Another Christmas Eve alone; not that she hadn’t gotten used to it during her stint in the Air Force. But they still were never easy to take. She’d gotten out and took the chance to move to the one area she’d dreamed of living ever since she was a little girl, Boise, Idaho. Shortly after arriving, she’d invested most of her savings into a condo figuring that not having a monthly house expense was the best route. From there she had enrolled in the local community college and after graduating moved to Boise State University. Between the part time gig as a waitress, her G I Bill money, and a couple small grants Mel was living a fairly comfortable albeit Spartan lifestyle. Still, it hadn’t left a lot of time for romance and it didn’t help that she spent most of her time around people who were a few years younger than her. Just finding someone she could sit at the bar with, legally, was a challenge sometimes and often the grad students were either too busy or in a serious relationship already. Fingers played in the curls of her long, dark red hair as she mulled over her current state in life. That is, until the snapping of fingers in front of her face brought her back to reality. “Hey, you’ve got one on table six.” Sandy smiled to her as she ducked into the kitchen. Shaking her head a little to clear the daze, frowning for a moment as she realized that Jingle Bells was playing for fourth time tonight, and then putting on her best smile, Mel made her way over towards table six. A quick glance at the clock revealed closing time was drawing near and she said a silent thanks to her shift being over soon. She just hoped this last customer wasn’t someone who had gone out to get drunk, and then stopped here on the way home. Phil looked up from the menu as the waitress approached, still mulling between the hickory burger and the spicy chicken sandwich. A moment was spent admiring the waitress’ legs, shown off by the green and black plaid skirt she was wearing. Slowly his eyes moved upwards, the thought of the hickory burger fading as he looked over her full chest and the red curls lying upon it. It had been a long day of travel then in the barn tending to the mare and the approaching woman was a welcome sight indeed, both for the eyes and the promise of getting a decent meal at some point today. She rolled her eyes a bit at the stare she was getting, some days she didn’t mind getting ogled but over the years it had grown quite annoying. So annoyed she was that she didn’t even notice that he appeared to be familiar. “Good evening and welcome to Terry’s. Can I start you out with a drink and perhaps an appetizer?” She put on her best server smile and hoped that perhaps his eyes would move up from her chest to at least her chin. “Can I get a Miller Light and a half order of mozzarella sticks?” He waited for her to write down the order, “And I’ll take a umm, hickory burger, medium rare.” Phil put down the menu to fish out his driver’s license and passed it to the waitress. She scribbled down the order and took the license as it was passed to her, glancing down at the date of birth then at the picture and passed it back to him. As Mel made her way back to the order station, the nagging thought of the familiar face in the picture was bugging her. She hadn’t red the name, and for once regretted not doing so. A glance over her shoulder as she input the order didn’t reveal much as his head was down to play with his phone. The sound of a skirt swishing as the waitress came up to the table caused him to glance up, just long enough to take the pint glass and take an appreciative sip of the amber liquid. Sure, it was a little watery but after the last two days it felt like heaven. Eyes glanced up to watch the waitress walk away, her red hair swaying behind her. Her shape reminded him a bit of someone else but he wasn’t fully sure who and made a note to try to look at her face the next time she came around. Sandy had taken the mozzarella sticks out to him so Mel stood off to the side; taking note that closing time was coming up in a few minutes. Of course the handful of customers still in the joint would be allowed to finish their meals but not to place any more orders after the doors were locked. Mel was fairly sure she’d figured out who her guest was, but wanted an up close look at his face to be sure. If he was the person she thought he was, it was to be a pleasant surprise, particularly since he’d never paid her figure that sort of attention before, even with there seeming to be a mental connection. A cross of her fingers, perhaps Christmas was looking up after all. Phil sipped at his third beer of the night, glad that the town bus system was still running through the holidays. The redhead hadn’t been by him since bringing the latest beer, a little more than he was used to consuming on a normal evening but it did mean she was coming by more often. He still hadn’t worked up the courage to look her in the face yet, or maybe he was just enjoying the other views, he wasn’t quite sure which one it was. The debate became moot when his head snapped up at the voice behind him and his eyes finally looked at Mel’s face. “Hey Phil, long time!” She was finally certain it was Phil Clauser, who had been the Graduate Teaching Assistant for the Intro to Equine class she’d taken to minor in equine studies. Mel could still remember how the muscles of his forearms threatened to tear the rolled up cuffs of his flannel shirt when he was teaching them out to do groundwork with a stubborn mare. There had been a couple of jokes among the girls about how they wouldn’t mind taking a roll in the hay with him but as far as Mel knew none had done more than chatted about it. For a moment he regretted having finished three beers already as it seemed they were fogging his brain. The face attached to the tall redhead was vaguely familiar. He thought he could place it in a classroom setting. What seemed like an eternity passed before he imagined her hair tied back, a pair of jeans instead of the skirt, and a sweatshirt; finally placed her as a former student of his. “Hey, Melissa. It has been a couple of years, hasn’t it?” She let out her breath a bit, in relief. Sometimes the red hair was nice in that it often helped people to remember her. For once that was playing into her favor. She set down the burger and another beer, “Merry Christmas Eve! I hope it’s going well for you.” “It’s going good now,” he gave her a faint smile and proceeded to tell her about how one of the mares under his charge had come down ill and he’d come back on short notice to oversee her care. He’d only gotten back this morning and had spent most of the day at the barn, only getting enough time to shower the barn smell off, change his clothes, and come in for dinner. “Such of the life of working in agriculture, but it’s worth it to me,” he offered a smile to her as she stole a fry from his plate. The sound of a lock clicking brought him back to the restaurant, “I guess I should eat up, don’t want to keep you late on Christmas Eve of all nights.” “Oh, it’s okay,” she looked up as the manager called out for the waitresses and slid from the table, “I’ll be right back.” Off to the backroom she went, leaving him to work on his meal. He looked up when she rejoined him at the table, sliding herself back into the chair. She placed a glass of eggnog in front of him with a little smile, “On the house. So, what are you doing for Christmas since you’re back on short notice?”  He watched as she tilted her head and seemed to be anxiously awaiting his answer. “Oh, I’m not sure. I guess just go home for the night, have to spend some time with the mare, tomorrow and otherwise maybe I’ll just catch a few movies on the tv.” He took a sip of the eggnog and noted a hint of Southern Comfort. When he looked up, she just gave him a little smile. “You?” “Probably about the same thing, except for the mare part. Just catch up on some Christmas movies, have a couple of drinks, sleep in, and do the same tomorrow I suppose. Or,” she paused, grinned a bit at him, “or, maybe you could join me and at least we would have some company to enjoy during our movie watching.” Mel wagged her eyebrows just a bit in excitement. He watched her eyebrows in a bit of amusement, and chuckled softly “I think I would be a fool to turn down the offer. I wo

  6. 5 DAYS AGO

    Christmas In Norway: Part 4

    Poetry and baring the soul.Based on a post by Jorunn, in 4 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected. Arriving at her house, Leah and I carried my clothes up to the spare bedroom. I thanked Leah once again, then kissed her. Leah softly whispered, “Jorunn is downstairs!” I replied in the same whisper, “Then kiss me quietly.” And she did. I spent the remainder of the day doing my laundry, once Leah showed me how to use her Norwegian washing machine. Leah opened the clothes drying rack, and when done, I laid my clothes out to dry. For dinner, Leah prepared salmon fillets with boiled potatoes. As Jorunn and Leah washed the dishes, I sat on the center seat of the sofa, reflecting on the day. When they finished, both Jorunn and Leah rushed into the living room, extremely excited, and sat down on either side of me. Jorunn turned on the television and switched to Norwegian National Television. I wondered what the fuss was about. “Five more minutes,” yelped Jorunn. After a brief introduction, an old black-and-white movie started. Both Jorunn and Leah snuggled up tight against me and I put my arms around them. It felt great. The show, called “Dinner for One”, featured a 90-year-old countess celebrating her birthday. She invited four friends but outlived them all. Her butler decides to impersonate each of the four missing guests. As he slips into each of the roles, he drinks a toast, and quickly becomes intoxicated, leading to numerous sight gags. It felt good to laugh along with people again. It was rather short, and when it ended, Leah told me it was the most repeated television show of all time and is quite popular in Scandinavian countries and northern Europe. Leah and Jorunn went around rearranging and straightening Christmas decorations, then announced it was time to make Julekurver. I heard of them, but never actually made one. Made of paper, they are heart-shaped and filled with sweets. We quickly cleared the dining room table, then covered it with red and white paper, a plastic rule, a plastic circle, and scissor. Leah and Jorunn both moved quickly, folding a sheet of paper of each color, and I followed their action. Then it was time to measure and cut, and fortunately, they slowed down to allow me to keep up. Using a circle, we marked a half circle and cut the excess away. Then cut strips into the paper, not going all the way across. We wove the red and white papers together in a checkerboard pattern and unfolded them into a perfect heart shape. I thought the process rather inefficient and decided to show off my engineering skills from 3M by making a fancier one. As I unfolded it, Jorunn and Leah laughed, and a moment later, I discovered one way not to make a Julekurver. After a long and active day, I was tired, so I went to bed. Both Jorunn and Leah were talking softly in the living room as I drifted off to sleep. A nocturnal visitorDecember 23rd - Just Before Midnight I was startled awake when I heard my bedroom door close, followed by a soft, “Shush!” I listened closely in the total darkness for footsteps and heard someone approach my bed. Leah must be ready to resume what we started back at the hotel! A hand pulled back the covers, and instinctively I slid toward the middle of the bed to make space. Leah slid in next to me and drew the covers back over us. Leah moved and shifted, and a hand found the back of my head. I expected her lips to follow, and they did. Soft and gentle, a wonderful way for my nocturnal visitor to say hello. Leah told me at the hotel she did not want to feel rushed, so there was no urgency. Her lips retreated, and her hand slid down to caress my cheek, as delicate fingers gently stroked me. I reached out and found her left shoulder as Leah faced me, then marveled at the smoothness as my hand traced her arm downward. Approaching her hand, I extended further to touch her hip. I began softly rubbing, but her ass beckoned, and my hand moved to cup and squeeze her firm cheek. My fingers began shooting sensations of warmth, softness, and inner firmness directly to my brain. I pulled Leah tight against me and discovered she was already completely naked. Leah swung her left leg over me and moved to an upright position, straddling my crotch. Beneath my boxer shorts, my erect cock fought for release. Her hand found my cock within its shelter but did not liberate it. Instead, her hand pushed my cock flat against my lower stomach, and she slid forward, trapping it with the swollen outer lips of her p***y. Leah began slowly gyrating, and even through the fabric of my boxers, I felt her p***y lips spreading as they slid along either side of my hidden cock. The hushed sounds of Leah cooing and moaning barely reached my ears, as dampness built between us. I reached up with both hands, found her small breasts, and used my thumbs to tease her nipples to an erection. A heavy breath followed by a long ‘uh. Oh; Ah!’ brought me close to premature orgasm, but this was not what Leah wanted, so I held back. Leah must have sensed I was close. She stopped gyrating, lifted herself, and then began inching herself up my torso. She paused for a moment and sat on my chest, then her hands reached out to touch my face. Two fingertips began touring my facial features as if Leah wanted to memorize every feature of my face. In the darkness, my senses heightened, her fingers swirled, and circled, and glided over me. I never would have imagined how erotic it felt. Leah resumed moving higher, her knees passing over my shoulders until they rested on either side of my head. I reached up to confirm what lay just inches above my face and grazed the same hairy splendor I sampled back at the hotel. Inhaling deeply, I picked up traces of the same body wash on her thighs. I was ready to dive back in, so I reached up and grabbed Leah’s hips, then pulled her p***y down toward my awaiting tongue. I paused as her short curly hair began painting her scent onto my face. The scent of arousal overpowered my senses. But? Something strange? I froze. The contradiction awoke my twilight dream state. “Why did you stop, Gunnar?” From the darkness came Jorunn’s voice! The dream of Leah’s nocturnal visit was replaced by the reality of a beautiful young woman revealing her devotion and desire to this 56 year old guy. I was stunned. I couldn’t reveal the real reason I stopped; was uncertainty. Jorunn’s p***y smelled different than Leah’s! I hadn’t noticed any difference between Leah’s and Jorunn’s tall, fit bodies. If there were any, they were undetectable in the darkness, especially with only my brief exposure to Leah. “I can’t do this with you, Jorunn.” I softly and sincerely spoke. “I want to make love to you tonight, Gunnar. More than anything in the world. Am I not pretty enough? Has not enough time passed since your wife’s funeral? You are the only man in the world I can love to, without fear of being hurt.” “Jorunn, you are an incredibly beautiful woman. For months, I fantasized about holding you in my arms, kissing you, and wishing to be exactly where I am now. But yesterday, I met your mother.” Jorunn asked, “Did she order you not to have sex with me?” I replied, “It’s not that. I think I’m falling in love with Leah. We spent a wonderful day together, and she swept me off my feet. If that love turns out to be mutual, I am prepared to pledge my heart totally to her and her alone. A lifetime commitment, one I will never dishonor. The only reason you and I got this far tonight is that in the darkness and my dream state, I thought you were Leah. I never would have done it otherwise.” But you are a lovely and desirable woman. I respect you and Leah. So much that I cannot be false to either of you. And I cannot dishonor myself, by doing what I know is dishonorable.” Jorunn shifted positions and lay next to me in the bed. In the darkness, Jorunn whispered, “You are so unlike my father. He always put himself first. I was ready to give myself to you tonight. You could have kept quiet and let it happen. Then lied about it to my mother in the morning. But you didn’t. You are a better man than my father ever was, and I know you will make my mother happy. Please don’t be afraid to give her, and yourself, a chance. She really needs someone like you in her life.” I heard a soft sob and reached out to touch Jorunn’s face. She was crying. Jorunn came into my bedroom tonight, looking for someone to love. She didn’t know about Leah and me, or what happened between us at the hotel. I very much doubt her mother would have told her. I admired what Jorunn just did. She was sacrificing her chance at love so that her mother might have one. Jorunn knew that she bore the duty to initiate affection, after so harshly rejecting my romantic advances, last week. Silence followed, before Jorunn finally said, “What you have shown me, Gunnar, is that there are still good men in this world. But I am still afraid to look for them.” I thought back to the day Jorunn and I went sledging. “Remember what you told me at Korketrekkeren? You don’t need to be afraid of looking for a man, Jorunn. What you need to be afraid of is being too afraid to try looking for a man. Promise me that you will push off, just like riding a sledge, and start looking. When you reach the bottom of that scary hill, you will no longer be afraid, and someone you love will be waiting there for you.” “I will, Gunnar. I promise. And thank you.” Jorunn climbed out of my bed and closed the door as she left. Christmas EveDecember 24 - Morning I woke up in the guest room bed. Hearing noises and holiday folk music in the kitchen, I dressed and went downstairs. Leah smiled and said, “God Jul!”, Norwegian’s way of saying merry Christmas. Then she made me scrambled eggs with smoked salmon. Afterward, I enjoyed a slice of fruited Christmas Cake with coffee. “Leah, there is something I need to tell

  7. 6 DAYS AGO

    Christmas In Norway: Part 3

    Skandinavian Folklore and Feast Days.Based on a post by Jorunn, in 4 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected. Syv Slags Kaker. (or, Seven Sorts of  Cookies)December 22nd – Evening, Five Days Later Jorunn said, “Well, Gunnar, we are back at our starting point, and this concludes the tour. We got off to a rough start on the first day, but since then, I have enjoyed spending time with you. After my mom got divorced, I stopped dating. Sure, I went out in mixed groups with my friends, but I cannot remember the last time I went somewhere, by myself, with a man. The divorce made me lose all confidence and trust in men. Why enter a relationship, and give my heart to a man, knowing it is going to fail? My father hurt my mother and me so badly, that neither of us have recovered. You were so wonderful to me this week, and showed me that not all men are like my father.” Jorunn looked at me with pleading eyes, “I don’t want this tour to end. I don’t want you to leave. Can you please stay in Oslo at least a few more days?” Jorunn didn’t want me to go. And I didn’t want to leave her either. I replied, “Jorunn, I cannot think of anyone or any place I would rather be than here in Oslo, with you.” Jorunn said, “It’s still early enough that we may be able to find seating without a reservation. I know a great place for seafood.” “Lead on,” I replied. Jorunn and I discussed the now-completed tour while enjoying a delicious dinner at a small kafé. I offered suggestions for the tour, but otherwise let her know I enjoyed seeing Norway, and I told her what a wonderful guide she was. After returning to America, I promised to recommend her tours to everyone I knew. As I looked over the dessert menu, I asked Jorunn, “I’m willing to stay a few more days. Are there any other Norwegian Christmas traditions or activities worth doing over the next few days?” “If you put down that dessert menu, there is one called Syv Slags Kaker. I baked seven kinds of cookies to celebrate Jul. If you come to my house, we can have coffee and you can sample all seven kinds.” “That sounds great,” I replied. Jorunn was inviting me to her home. She was beautiful and funny, and I admit I developed fantasies about her as I watched her vlog videos back in the nursing home. Heck, I even created new fantasies over the last week. She was much warmer toward me at the end of the tour. In Tromsø, we shared a blanket as we rode in a sleigh pulled by an actual reindeer. But after the Nutcracker ballet, I held back and did not cross any lines. Could a 56-year-old man and a 25-year-old woman have a sexual relationship? I managed to keep up with Jorunn all week and didn’t see any reason not to. I reached below the table to carefully re-position myself before standing up. We made our way to the Train Station and rode to Jorunn’s neighborhood. As we walked to her house, I noticed many homes with a lighted star in one of the windows. “What are those stars,” I asked. “They are a tradition in Norway. A star is lit on the first Sunday of Advent to help guide the Three Wise Men.” We stopped in front of a modest house. There was no star in the window, but I saw sheaves of oats hung from one of the trees. I was familiar with the tradition of putting out something for the birds in the frigid days of December. As we stepped inside, I was suddenly surprised. “Hi, Mom! I would like you to meet Gunnar Larsen.” “Good evening, Mr. Larsen. Jorunn has been sending me text messages all week about your exciting travels. I hope you enjoyed your tour. My name is Leah.” This was not what I expected. I hoped to be alone with Jorunn. The family resemblance was striking and quite apparent. Leah’s straight hair was a bit shorter than Jorunn’s but matched her daughter’s pure blonde color. Her blue eyes stood out from her attractive face. She was wearing a multi-colored Norwegian Dale sweater and green trousers. I possessed absolutely no experience telling how old Norwegian women are. She must be in her forties but looked younger. I said, “I enjoyed Jorunn’s tour very much. Your daughter is quite talented in many ways. Please, call me Gunnar.” Jorunn said, “Gunnar was asking about other Jul traditions and activities here in Norway over Christmas. I thought Syv Slags Kaker would be a good one, and your cookies are the best ones in Oslo. I’ll make us some coffee.” Leah looked at me, “Please sit Gunnar. How much longer will you be staying in Norway?” I replied, “About two more weeks. I wanted to celebrate the New Year here before returning to America.” I talked about the completed tour, and she seemed interested enough that I rambled on. “I really enjoyed visiting Lillehammer. It brought back memories of watching the 1994 Winter Olympics, probably my favorite one. The music was fantastic, and the woman who sang the Olympic Hymn at the opening ceremony possessed such a wonderful voice.” Leah replied, “Her name is Sissel Kyrkjebø. She is still extremely popular today, and we consider her a national treasure. I was 18 at the time, and worked at those Olympics.” “I’d love to hear more about that,” I replied. “It was nice to see many of the venues still being used. I also enjoyed the Olympic Museum in Maihaugen, which told the history of the 1994 Olympics. I was surprised to learn that Norway has won more Olympic medals than any other country. But the highlight for me was riding the chairlift to the top of the Lysgårdsbakkene ski jump. The views were amazing. I can’t imagine anyone being brave enough to make such a jump.” “I agree with you on that!” laughed Leah. I continued, “We also flew to Tromsø, and I got to see the Northern Lights. We can sometimes see them in southern Minnesota, but they were much more impressive here with the clear Norwegian air. Jorunn and I took a ride in a sleigh, pulled by actual reindeer. Reindeer are much larger than I thought. We visited a Sami farm, where we ate reindeer stew and learned about the Sami culture.” “I’ve never been, but I hear it’s really fun,” replied Leah. “Bærums Verk was also a highlight. You may already know that the town dates to the 1600s. I loved the old buildings and cobbled streets. Although the Christmas Market was small, I found it unique, with artisans selling handmade crafts. It was nice to see the old crafts like glassblowing, ironwork, and woodworking.” Jorunn returned with a large tray, holding coffee and cookies, and we began sampling. Leah asked, “Did you take Gunnar to Pepperkakebyen in Bergen? It’s a marvelous gingerbread village in my hometown. There are over 200 small gingerbread houses, and with the tiny lights turned on, it looks so real.” Jorunn replied, “A week goes by quickly, mamma. There is only so much time. The gingerbread houses are very nice, and I have fond memories of going there with you.” As we continued talking and munching cookies, I looked around at the decorations. There was an advent calendar, wreaths, angels, gnomes called nisse, hearts, stars, and candles. The decorations looked more natural, perhaps a bit less commercialized than in America. There was a real tree, complete with its wonderful pine smell, a star at the top, garland, tinsel, ornaments, and white lights. I looked at Leah, “I noticed that you don’t have a Christmas star in the window as many of the other houses do.” Leah replied, “I found my former husband in bed with another woman. I immediately divorced him. Among the many things he took from Jorunn and I, was our Christmas Star.” Leah sounded deeply hurt and from more than just the missing star. After tasting the last of the seven cookies, Leah asked how I liked them. “The waffle-like Krumkaker was probably my favorite. We tried making them in Minnesota, but yours turned out so much better. And, of course, the Pepperkaker gingerbread stars were great.” I held up another cookie and said, “I don’t know the name of this one, but it was also excellent.” Leah replied, “That one is Serinakaker, a Norwegian butter cookie.” I realized the inevitable, “It is getting late. Thank you both, Leah and Jorunn, for a wonderful evening. I need to get back to my hotel and figure out what to do over the next few days.” I saw Jorunn look at her mother, who nodded. As I stood up, Leah did too. “Nonsense, Gunnar. I won’t have it. Come, spend Christmas with Jorunn and me! Nearly everything in Oslo shuts down in the afternoon on Christmas Eve and stays closed until the 27th. No restaurants or shops will be open. I have an unused bedroom upstairs. Come celebrate Jul with us.” I caught the signal between mother and daughter and wondered if this was pre-planned. But spending Christmas alone in my hotel sounded almost as bad as spending it alone in the nursing home. It was an easy decision. “I accept.” Leah said, “Good. I’ll stop by your hotel tomorrow and help you move your things. Perhaps we can have lunch as well at one of the restaurants along Karl Johans gate.” “It would be my pleasure, ” I replied. “Let’s say, about 11:00 AM” Little Christmas EveDecember 23rd - Morning It was December 23rd, known in Norway as Lille Julaften. Spending Christmas with Leah and Jorunn created a problem for me. I needed to find at least one Christmas present for each, just in case they bought a gift for me. I got up early and headed out to search. Reflecting on last night, and indeed, the last week, it ended up being far simpler than I feared. I soon found a gift for each, along with reusable cloth gift bags in Christmas colors. I heard a knock on my hotel door and opened it. Leah stood there, holding a coat over her arm. She was wearing a traditional Norwegian folk costume called a bunad. Her blonde hair, simply styled, was highlighted by two attractive braids. I smiled and said, “What a pleasant surprise. You look like you just step

  8. 11 FEB

    Christmas In Norway: Part 2

    Sledges, Corkscrews, and other fears.Based on a post by Jorunn, in 4 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected. Once at the starting point, we both sat down on our sledges. I was grateful only a few others were preparing to ride, but gasped again when I saw how youthful their faces were. I doubted anyone here was over thirty years old. I wondered whether Jorunn was punishing me, or perhaps was hoping I would voluntarily quit the tour. “I don’t know if I can do this, Jorunn. I’m afraid.” Jorunn looked me in the eye with a grim look on her face. “Afraid is coming home with my mother, and finding my father sleeping with another woman. Afraid is watching how he broke apart my family and wondering how my mom and I would go on. Afraid is me cutting off my father and not wanting to ever see him again.” “Afraid is quitting a dead-end job and trying to earn a living as a vlogger in one of the most expensive countries on earth. Afraid is checking every morning for clicks, likes, and followers, and finding out the numbers did not change.” “Afraid is starting a private small-group tour company, all by myself, and weaving my way through the many regulations, laws, and insurance requirements. Afraid is knowing I have to book at least one trip a month just to cover those costs.” “Afraid is taking a group of six to Svalbard for a glacier hike in early summer, and spotting a polar bear less than 200 meters away lumbering towards us. Afraid is watching our guide fire off the last of her flares, but seeing the bear still coming. Afraid is the look in our guide’s eyes as she reached for her rifle.” “You don’t need to be afraid of sledging, Gunnar. What you need to be afraid of is being too afraid to try sledging. Meet me at the bottom of the hill. Either make the run or turn in your sledge and take the Metro down the hill.” I watched Jorunn push off and head down the run, then thought about her words. I lived a good life in Minnesota, meeting Solveig in college and then stepping right into a lifetime job with the 3M company. Adventure was going to our lake cabin where the only challenges were fighting off mosquitos, and figuring out how to remove burnt marshmallows off the end of a stick. After our first child, Solveig and I stopped doing anything like sledding, and instead sat and watched our kids having all the fun. What am I doing here in Norway? Why am I here? Jorunn answered that question for me. I pushed off and started my run. I fought my way down the mountain, and as I approached the end of the run, I was happy to see it level off. I saw Jorunn standing next to her sledge, her small camera pointed at me. I raised both hands over my head, waved, then yelled, “I did it!” I coasted to a stop three meters past her. Jorunn ran up to me, and as I stood, she hugged me. “I’m proud of you Gunnar.” As we hugged, under the clear blue skies and chilly temperatures, I closed my eyes and went back 35 years to a small hill in Minneapolis, where I hugged Solvieg after sledding. Jorunn released me and stepped back. I yelped, “It was wonderful! I kept to the side as other people whizzed past me. A few sections were bumpy, and my teeth rattled. The only time I was scared was when there was a steep drop-off on one side. Don’t you use guardrails in Norway?” “You may have seen a few small concrete walls, but we believe in personal responsibility here in Norway. If you cannot manage a sledge, you should not make the run. The authorities do monitor the conditions and sometimes close the run when it is too icy.” “Does that mean you believed in me? Believed I could make it down the hill?” “There is nothing wrong with you, Gunnar. While I was waiting here at the bottom of the hill, I read about your Iron Range in Minnesota. You are rusty. There is a Wizard of Oz Museum there. You are the Tin Man. This tour is the Oil Can. Figure it out. The Oil Can only works if you pick it up and use it. Stand tall and walk proudly for as long as you can. If you fall, get up and keep going.” It was an interesting way to look at life. I was only 56 years old, but for the last few years, I acted like I was 80. I still have many years to go sledging, if only I was not afraid to try. I turned to Jorunn. “Let’s go again!” Pea SoupDecember 16 - Mid-Day After three more runs, Jorunn and I turned in our sledges and ate lunch at the beautiful Frognersteren Restaurant on top of the hill. I followed her suggestion of a thick pea soup with meatballs and potatoes. It was delicious. As we sipped hot chocolate, it felt good to be alive again. “A week ago, I was in a nursing home in Minnesota. After my wife died, no one visited me, not even my adult children. I was alone. It was a terrible place, run by a terrible nurse. I had to get out. I made plans with my lawyer, then walked out the front door and got on a plane to come to Norway. What’s the worst place you have ever been?” “Dublin, Ireland. After the divorce, my mother and I were struggling financially. We had gone from living a comfortable life to living paycheck to paycheck. I saw a post on the Internet for a job as a body double for a Vikings television program. I wasn’t sure what a body double did, but it paid well for a short gig. I took all my clothes off while a dozen people stared at me and took photos and videos. I hadn’t been naked in front of any man in over a year, since before the divorce. They must have liked me because I got the part, and they flew me to Dublin. The next morning, I went to the studios. I sat there in a robe while they cut and styled my hair to match the actress I was portraying. Then off to the makeup department, where I removed my robe while they applied fake tattoos and full body makeup so I would look dirty in all the right places.” “After lunch in the studio, the costume department placed me in a white linen tunic. When it was time to film, they told me to stand in front of the lead actor while he lifted the tunic off me and tossed it aside. He was much older than me, and with his beard, he reminded me of my father. He exuded the same swagger as if the world revolved only around him. I would be fully exposed to him, and to the camera crew, who were filming me from behind. They told me to act submissive and let the lead actor hug me. It took several takes and a few tweaks before the director was happy.” “Next, I was ordered to lay down on a stylized Viking bed covered with furs. The sex scene was to be filmed twice. Once for television, then for an unrated video release. The make-up people gave me a once over, then thankfully positioned a flesh-covered patch over my vagina. In the first shot, I was naked, but the lead actor remained fully clothed. He stood and positioned himself between my legs, and they told me to keep my vagina pressed tight against his crotch as he bucked against me. We needed to make the audience believe we were having sex while showing them nothing. I remained in this position while they adjusted the lighting and camera angles, and beneath his trousers, I felt the lead actor’s erect cock pressed against me.” “The director yelled, ‘Action’. Once again, they told me to be submissive, and let the lead actor take charge. He started humping against me. Looking up at him, he was still a handsome man, and I wondered how many women around the world dreamed or fantasized about being in the same place I was. I wasn’t one of them, but I understood this was why they hired me, so I accepted it. Like earlier, it took several takes. The director would review the shot and make small adjustments each time. After the last take, I saw a large wet spot on the front of the lead actor’s trousers.” “Then it was time for the unrated scene. A host of costume and make-up people swarmed around the actor while I lay there naked. This time, he was to be naked as he approached the bed. The camera angle was off to the side to avoid full frontal and he used his left hand to shield his erection, thankfully contained in a flesh-covered sock. The scene began with the lead actor approaching me, and once in position, he began humping against me. His covered cock slid against the covering over my vagina, but the sensations passed right through. My nipples became erect, and I felt my wetness building.” “After several takes, the director was happy, and we moved on to the last scene for which I was needed. In this one, the lead actor would be laying on top of me, his arms extended and propping himself up with his hands placed on either side of my body. This scene was more challenging because it needed to be mixed with prior facial cuts shot separately with the lead male actor and lead female actress. The scene would be filmed from several angles including above and below. As the director reviewed the earlier footage, the makeup people worked on my face and hair.” “The next thing I felt was the lead actor lying on top of me, his body pressing his erect cock against the patch covering my vagina. I wanted to turn away, but he told me to look at him because it would help him release his creative juices. I feared the possible double entendre. Here I was, face-to-face with the avatar of the man I hated more than anyone, the man who destroyed our family. When the director was ready, he said to go at it and try to simulate real sex. He yelled 'Action’. I was sweating under the lights, and the patch covering my vagina began to slip, aided by the movement of the lead actor’s covered cock. As my p***y became more exposed, I was afraid his cock might slide into me, so I yelled 'Cut!’. Everything stopped, and I pushed him off.” “That was enough. I yelled I was through, gathered my things, and headed for the front door. I paid my own way back to Oslo, and thought about filing a protest, but later learned what they did was mostly proper. Most sex scenes are between two body doubles. It is ra

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Tales of experiencing that first time. Some of them may be true.

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