Storytelling . . .

So a lot of our fantasies revolve around MFM threesomes, but we do like to vary our scenarios from time to time. On Friday night, after I came home from the Mom's night out Christmas spectacular (sorry - no action. Wrong crowd to get wild with!), Mike and I played cocktail party.

Mike has always liked the idea of the perfect hostess. His perfect hostess is a yummy little suburban cupcake who makes time during a busy party to lavish him with little caresses and witty asides just for his ears only. At some point during this little fantasy party, the hostess slyly asks Mike if he could help her get down some glassware or some such thing that she keeps in her closet in the master bedroom. Of course, when they are finally alone, her little flirtations become much more overt, and Mike soon finds himself lowering himself into the hostess on the floor of her bedroom, her simple black skirt hiked high around her waist. It's the little details that matter to Mike, so, in my guise as the "hostess", he quickly finishes when I whisper that I want him to fuck me, to come in me, but that it can't be on the bed, because that's where I fuck my "husband".

So during this fantasy session on Friday, Mike is done after only a couple minutes, but I'm still hanging, not to mention having rug burns on my ass from the carpet where he laid me. So I told Mike to go get the Purple Rabbit and snuggle up next to me on the bed and tell me a story.

When he comes back, he comes up with one of my favorites. You see, Mike used to travel often back before we were married. And he used to wander quite a bit during his visits to towns across America. On one of these visits, he happened to find himself in a porn store late one night. This particular store was one of those that happened to feature those little booths. Now I know that men have their needs, but I've never been enthralled with what I imagine might go on in there. Or that is, until Mike told me the story of how he wandered into a booth that one night.

It's kind of cute how he tells it (and it makes me ragingly horny, too). Mike had already spent what little cash he had on him on a trashy mag for his hotel room when an adorable young college girl happened to wander out from the booth area, looking bored. Guess it was a slow night or something, but apparently she had to come out from behind the glass to drum up business. And seeing Mike, she asked if he'd be interested in a show.

Mike was up front with her - he showed her the few crumpled ones that he had in his pocket, and said he'd love to see how she looked, but that he didn't have the $20 minimum posted on the sign over the entrance. She gave him a smile and said not to worry, she wouldn't tell the boss if he didn't.

So she led him into the back, showed him a door that led into the booth, and then disappeared behind another door. Mike went in the booth, which was about three feet square, with plywood walls on three sides and a plexiglass window on the fourth. Behind the window was a little raised platform with some cushions on it. And from behind a little curtain, this young girl soon appeared and seated herself on the cushions.

Apparently, she was wearing a very ordinary cotton bra and panty set, like you might pick up at Target. And next to her on the cushion was a notebook. That's the detail that Mike remembers most from the adventure, and it's the detail that really sends me over the top as well. He said that if the girl had been some aging, strung-out woman down on her luck, he would have wished her well and gone right back to his hotel room. But instead, he asked her about the notebook.

With that cute young face, it turned out that she was in college. And a wannabe writer, which immediately set the hook in Mike. (Sometimes I think that Mike only called me back that first time because I happened to write for a living, even if it is only technical manuals and the like.) She told Mike that the notebook was where she liked to record details of her nights in the booth. Being young himself, Mike wasn't sure exactly what went on in the booth either. So he asked her.

She said it was usually pretty clinical. The men would push their money through a little slot in the plexiglass, and then she would push the bra up over her breasts so that the men could see her nipples. Then they would usually pull their penises out of their pants and begin to masturbate. She said that she could usually hurry them along by pulling her panties down so that they could see her pubic hair, and by fingering her clit while they played with themselves, they would come that much more quickly. Apparently, turnover is important in all businesses.

Now Mike had read an interview with a prostitute in Studs Terkel's Working (highly recommended) that the illusion of arousal was all an act, and he asked the girl about this. She said that for the most part, it is fake, but that, being a young girl who sees a lot of cocks, she did occasionally need to relieve the tension. And then she asked Mike if maybe he would like to relieve some tension.

Always the Boy Scout, Mike reminded her that he didn't have enough money. She said not to worry, just slide whatever he had through the slot. So he shrugged and gave her three or four dollars, and asked her what to do next. She told him that most guys just liked to stand and jack off, so he pulled his jeans and underwear down and began to masturbate while she laid back to do the same.

Now these are Mike's recollections, but he said that it was weird to be standing there beating off for a stranger, but that watching this angelic young woman smiling and stroking her glistening clit had him horny instantly. And the idea of that notebook, and becoming an entry in this girl's journal, was more than enough to send him over the edge. He told me that he soon sprayed big thick globs of semen on that window, and that the smile that she gave him after, knowing that she made this cute young businessman come, was one of the most genuine smiles that he has ever had the pleasure to receive.

And even though I wasn't there, I absolutely love hearing Mike tell me this story over and over again. And on Friday night, with my Purple Rabbit buried deep in the pussy that Mike had just filled with his semen, my fingers furiously stroking my clit, I made Mike tell me every last detail of this story from his past. I was just laying on the bed with my eyes tightly closed, fantasizing for all the world that I could be this girl who gets to see all these different men and their cocks from behind my little window on the world. Looking, but not touching. Chaste, in a weird way.

My God. It took me a long time to get over the mountain, but when I did, I came in buckets, squeezing so hard that I don't think there was even a drop of Mike's come left in me when I was done orgasming.

Maybe this story ties in somehow with our mutual fantasies of me experiencing more men, or maybe it's just a good story in its own right, but let's just say that I slept like a baby on Friday night. And so did Mike.