I'll be on the campaign trail again soon for all you experienced writers and would be writers........Get writing folks and those who promised me a story last time.... I 'll be on your tail soon... 
PREFACE:
1. As you can see from above, even though I did NOT promise anything, I did write a story for the first contest. Therefore, Brandybee has been relentless in "being on my tail". Too bad it wasn't literally rather than figuratively. I am submitting a story, and my revenge is that Brandybee, I am dedicating it to YOU
. If no one likes it, it is your responsibility for bringing it into the world.
2. My second statement is an apology to all the readers. Brandybee nagged me until I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote it nonstop. I did this BEFORE I read any of the contest rules or knew about a selected "topic". To be perfectly honest, when I do write, the "topic" selects itself. I doubt that I could conjure up anything readable that would have a "time traveling", pirate boat captain who had run his fiberglass skiff aground in a Roaring 20's speakeasy.
Since I wasn't aware of the contest rules ahead of time (and probably would have fucking ignored them anyway), I withdraw from any voting, potential prizes, etc. I wish you all well and will read your stories with enthusiasm. I humbly offer you mine as something to amuse you, and hopefully that you will enjoy in addition to the contest.
THE TRIP TO VISIT JESSICA’S PARENTS
I hate the subway in NYC. I am already tense enough thinking about my trip this weekend to be “inspected” by Jessica’s parents. We have been going together for about six months, so I guess I can’t put it off any longer. Jessica is intelligent, has a good sense of humor, and she has a body that makes me hard at work just dreaming of her. Tall (5’11”),raven black hair, great smile, deep blue eyes, and she has a sensuous glide when she walks. I can almost see her upper thighs rubbing together when she moves, and when she comes toward me I imagine her pussylips starting to become sticky.
Her waist is thin, hips narrow, and her 36D breasts usually are pushing up out of the tight blouses she wears. They should. She is only 28 years old.
The subway car hits a turn and jolts me out of my reverie. I am 35 years old, still in good physical shape from years of competitive tennis, but probably lucky to lie down with someone as hot as Jessica. If I don’t pass the “parental review”, it is going to be hard keeping her thinking marriage might be in the cards. As much as Jessica enjoys my face between her legs, she is starting to believe her “baby clock” is ticking.
The train continues its “push-pull” of violent jerks, rolling me sideways on the cheap hard plastic seats. I grab the cold steel pole to steady myself and try to stare at the ceiling to allow my mind to escape this 90mph sardine can. Most of the ceiling of the car is covered with juvenile graffiti. “Bobby fucks Mona”, drawings of cocks so short they wouldn’t please anyone except the user, and gang tag warnings to keep off 110th street.
I should have taken a taxi. At least there are only a few people riding at three in the afternoon.
As we exit the Lincoln tunnel, my eyes struggle to adjust to the sun being filtered through the grimy windows. I look up and catch a teenage girl sitting directly across from me.
She seems intent on getting me to look at her, so I politely return her smile. With the make-up she appears about twenty years old, but in truth is probably not more than 16.
Not really plump, but well-endowed, with full round breasts peeking out from under her long red coat. She sits with a large shopping bag propped on her lap and I-Pod wires showing she is listening to some music only she can hear. I laugh to myself because it is more than likely a new group I have never heard of. When you are 35 you can start admitting you don’t know shit about popular music.
After my polite acknowledgement I avert my eyes, but she pulls me back. Apparently she is one with the music because almost imperceptively, her hips are moving to a beat. Not so much side-to-side, but front to back. She is sliding on the seat, all the way back, then thrusting just a little toward me. She parts her feet a little and opens her knees. I see the shopping bag move as she holds it with her left arm, but slides her right hand behind it and down. She moves the shopping bag aside so it blocks the vision of the other people further down the train car.
I can’t believe it. Her right hand has moved to unbutton the coat and she is wearing only a black thong. I can’t look away now and she knows it. She slides one finger under the thong and begins moving it up the crease in her lips to the top near her clit. The outside of the thong is starting to get wet, and she keeps working it faster. Her head is back as she watches the erection form in my suit pants. It is straining at my zipper as she smiles back and puts her sticky finger between her lips and licks it.
I can’t go over to her because everyone else in the train car will see. My cock is throbbing like it is going to explode. She sees this and quickens her hip movement on the seat. She presses her pussy against the hard surface until her clit is pinched against the plastic seat. The beat through the I-pod drives her on. Then, in an instant her eyes lock on mine and she gushes cream all down the seat. her legs now wide open and beautiful warm fluid squirting down the seat. I want to bury my face into her, suck her clit, breathe into her pussy, but I can’t. She delights in knowing she has me paralyzed.
When she sees I have been panting, she lets out a little giggle. She pulls her coat together, straddles the puddle on the seat, and rises to walk to the exit doors. The train comes to a stop, she turns, flashes me a knowing smile, and steps off disappearing into the crowd of commuters.
Jesus Christ!!! Dammit, I should have followed her. My mind is spinning and my thighs are cramping. I close my eyes and visualize both of us being at my apartment. I am lifting her onto the butcher block in my kitchen and spreading her legs wide. I can hear her pop when I enter her. A sudden gush of breath and I am slamming into her up to the hilt. I feel her vagina gripping me, her teeth gently biting into my neck, then…..No! No! No!
I remember I am sitting alone on the subway. My hand is resting on my cock, realizing I am dangerously close to cumming in my pants, in public, for God’s sake. I start to think about getting arrested and losing my job. It is working, my hard-on starts to diminish. I work to control my breathing. I look around and nobody is watching me so I am safe.
The next subway stop is near Jessica’s office building so I get off. Hurriedly, I enter the tall insurance building where she is an agent, and I find the first floor restroom. I splash some water on my face, comb my hair, straighten my tie, and see if anything shows.
Jessica can usually smell desire on me, and there is no way I can explain the train “adventure”.
Now up to the eighth floor lobby where I greet her with a kiss. No hug, just in case any remnant of a hard-on might give me away. She starts babbling about her day, which of course I am paying no attention to, still trying to erase the imaginary vision of the young girl’s erect ruby nipples from my brain. Down the elevator, into the parking garage, and into her car which we packed this morning. Carefully pushing ourselves into the congested traffic that is the madness of NYC.
An hour later, we are out of the city. The BMW 740iL comfortably cruising at 70mph through the Connecticut countryside. Three more hours and we are on the outskirts of Boston, where Jessica’s parents reside on a plush 5 acre estate. I forgot that lawyers rake in considerably more money than I do as a “junior” executive. Maybe someday I’ll work my way up to this. If not, I have a chance to do something my parents said I would NEVER do, and that is “marry into money”. LOL.
We pull up to a set of ornate gates, Jessica sends a “your baby daughter’s home” greeting into the intercom, and the gates slowly open. The BMW purrs up the long winding drive and rests under a vine covered portico in front of the majestic Georgian mansion. Impressing her parents might be a lot tougher than I thought.
First a single malt Scotch with Jessica’s father in the library. Some banter about the stock market and football, but I avoid politics until I know what side he is on. I tell him how his daughter’s intelligence and good nature first attracted me. I let him know I am ambitious and plan to move up in the company, but make sure he knows I am not too aggressive.
Jessica’s mother saves me further interrogation, and dinner goes well. Excellent meal and a good wine. After desert we make it know we are exhausted and will retire early. Jessica warned me that her parents are conservative and don’t know yet we are sleeping together.
Of course they know, but no one wants to admit it openly. I agreed that I can put up with two nights of sleeping alone, but make sure I protest enough that Jessica knows I would much rather be making love to her.
Up the stairs, my room is not large, but has a fireplace and a private bathroom. It is one of six guest bedrooms. Her parents have placed Jessica in the downstairs bedroom, and their Master Bedroom is only two doors down from mine near the top of the stairway. I have to laugh. They are guarding her as though she needs a chastity belt. If they only knew what kind of porn she watches with me, and how talented she is with a banana. Jessica could make an experienced courtesan blush.
It is about 11pm. No TV in the room, so I try to read to fall asleep. Some old Henry James novels, The Compleat Works of Shakespeare, Tolstoy. Nothing that is going to hold my interest enough to erase the longing to revisit the vision of the nubile young child on the train.
Every time I closed my eyes I could see her fingers again, plucking the wet thong away from her pink labia. The color of a rose that I desperately wanted to plunge my nose into to inhale its sweetness. I just couldn’t shake the image. I kept getting an erection thinking of the cream dripping from her as she slid in and out of the puddle on the seat. I wanted to be that seat. I wanted to rub my hardness against her welcoming clit. I wanted to feel her press it down hard against my pubic bone.
After two hours of trying to fight these images I decided to exit the room for a visit to the kitchen or maybe sneak out onto the porch for some crisp, cool air. I knew I couldn’t risk getting into Jessica’s room to relieve myself, and I paled at the thought of explaining the next day why my sheets were stained with cum, when I spent the night alone. Maybe if I could grab another scotch out of the library I might be able to get to sleep.
Ok, so here I am tip-toeing down the hallway. If caught I already have my story: insomnia only scotch can cure. As I get near the stairway, I see a light on in the Master Bedroom. Crap, it is past 1am. I thought for sure they would be asleep. I can hear Jessica’s father snoring, so it must be Isabella, her mother up late reading. Jessica told me her parents still sleep in the same room, but in separate beds. During dinner I couldn’t help marveling at how much Jessica looked like her mother. Isabella looked in her early 40’s so she must have had Jessica quite young. She was more full figured, but had the same seductive black hair.
I should have gone down the stairs, but the bedroom door was open about four inches and I could hear a breathing that was not as deep as that of someone sleeping, and it was a little faster paced. I peeked through the door and Isabella was standing with her back to me. She had on a sheer white lace negligee, and the blue reading light behind it illuminated the curves of her shoulders as her raven locks flowed down to meet her hips.
She turned slightly and my heart jumped as the light provided the back-drop for the silhouette of her large breasts and nipples as large as apricots. A little further, then I saw a silky mound of pubic hair neatly trimmed and centered between creamy white thighs.
I knew I was staring at an Italian Goddess…… and I was about to get killed if caught.
If Jessica’s father was too old to do it, certainly Jessica would finish the job if she caught me spying on her mother. Fortunately, her dad continued to snore loudly and Jessica was safely locked downstairs.
I had just convinced myself to do the right (smart) thing and turn away, when the ultimate shocker hit. Isabella was brushing some kind of cream onto the Italian Renaissance bedpost. She certainly wasn’t up late dusting the furniture. She also was applying it lovingly, greasing the round knob as if it were a close friend. She would gently caress it, then squeeze near the top of the knob where it curved inward. I watched in wonder, excitement building as she climbed onto the bed. She stood on the mattress, opened her legs and straddled the post.
Then she began a slow dance, sliding her lips against the post, massaging her clit as she moved up and down. I could see the post glistening and moisture forming between Isabella and the post. I was hard as a rock, and without realizing it had moved my shorts down to let my cock hang free. Blood was pumping into me as I watched Isabella insert the post, at first just an inch, then two. She would let it pop out then back onto it a little further. Three inches, then four. She was making a low guttural sound, not loud enough to wake her husband, but it turned me on even more.
In addition, she had strategically propped a floor-length mirror against the wall so she could see the knob going in and out. Her pink pussy gripped the post on each thrust, and she moaned when she went down on it. I began to masturbate a little faster and felt the excitement building. I could feel my cock in my hand begging to be the bedpost.
Then a cold chill came over me. I stopped looking directly at Isabella, and glanced at the mirror. She could see me out of the corner of the mirror, and I thought she would yell and give me away. Instead, she smiled at me and began moving the post inside her in a circle.
She didn’t want to get caught either. She motioned for me to come in the room. She whispered for me to sit on the edge of the bed. Instantly, I knew what she wanted. Each time she moved down on the post, taking it in deeper. I licked her clit. She trembled and pushed it further into my mouth. When I thought she was close to cumming I helped her off the bedpost. I laid on my back on the floor and she straddled my mouth. She almost smothered me sucking my tongue and lips into her. Then she moved back and slid onto my cock. First all the way up, then down to the hilt slowly. Then picking up speed. Faster now until I couldn’t hold it. I arched my back and almost passed out as I shot into her. She covered her scream, by pressing her mouth hard onto mine. She was writhing out of control, and I was close to crying out of relief. We lay there for a long time. She held me like I was a lost child. I kept my face against her neck, smelling her sweet body, not wanting to look into her eyes out of embarrassment. Finally, she slid off of me and quietly slipped into her bed. Not a word was said.
The next morning I convinced Jessica we should leave a day early. No use overstaying our welcome on my first visit. I didn’t want to admit that if we stayed, the next night I would be at her mother’s bedroom door hoping to catch her in her seduction of the bedpost. Breakfast went well. Everyone polite. Jessica was well rested. Her father content in his ignorance. Isabella and I basking in the memories of our lust.
Truthfully, I don’t know what the future will hold. But everytime I am haunted by the memory of the young girl on the subway, I intend to call Jessica and ask her if we can spend the weekend with her parents.
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From your subsequent posts you can see that nobody "hates" you for having a strong, but potentially narrow opinion on various issues. I won't detail the specific areas where you and I agree or disagree, Some of them are semantic nuance.