AT NIGHT

At night, when she thinks everyone is asleep, she sneaks downstairs and fetches a bottle. In the dark, she knows what to do. She strips, she straddles it. She could get caught, but she hasn't. It feels too good to stop.

TOPLESS TANNER

We stayed at a resort in Mazitlan, Mexico. It wasn't our first choice, but her parents were helping pay for the honeymoon as a wedding gift, so we weren't about to argue. We made the most of it, as you can see.

I was impressed that my new wife was open to tanning topless. Once she saw the European guests, she was like: why not? Por que no, verdad?

TIED

TAPED

SPRING BREAK!

One spring break I didn't have anywhere to go, so I called my old friend Kat in California. She said she and her roommate Emmy (yes, her name was Emmy, not Emily), didn't have plans either and maybe we could all hang out. Kat said that I'd like Emmy, that she was blonde and gorgeous, and smart.

I had reserved a room at a motel walking distance to the beach. It was supposed to have two queen beds, but of course like some sitcom, they had mixed up the reservation and we had a small room with one king bed. That's ok, the girls assured, flopping back on the bed. There'd be room for three, like a slumber party. I pulled out my flask and poured each of us a cocktail in a plastic motel cup with motel ice. "Dangerous," said Emmy, "isn't this how orgies start?" We all laughed. In my mind, I turned the scene over and over again. I'd never been in an orgy, and had no idea how they started. I wished I knew.

The first day we were all hanging out on the beach. We packed the plastic cups and bottle of wine. The girls laid back on the blanket after rubbing suntan lotion on each other. I couldn't believe I was so close, and yet so awkwardly distant. They seemed totally relaxed around each other. "I hate tanlines," said Emmy. "Me, too," said Kat. Emmy tugged down her bikini top, and then Kat followed. I sat there, stupid, check out both girls sunning essentially topless on a California beach. I'm pretty sure it wasn't legal, and that made it all the more bold, sexy.

When we got back to the motel room, Emmy went into the bathroom to take a shower. A few minutes later, Kat went in. A was left alone and feeling awkward as ever. I didn't know if a real party guy would have followed and somehow a 3-way shower scene would be sparked, or if, just being roommates, the girls were used to sharing a bathroom, and if I walked in, would have looked like an idiot. So, like an idiot, I snuck over close as I dared to the bathroom door and strained to listen. All I could hear was the shower spray. I pictured, of course, both girls in the shower together, making out and touching each other, muffling their orgasms into each other's shoulders.

They came out in towels. It was hard for me to hide my obvious erection, but I tried. I imagine they saw, they knew. They seemed to parade around the tiny motel room practically naked, as if just to tease me.

The girls wanted to go out. So they dressed up, heels and makeup and little black dresses. They spent about an hour in front of the mirror, while I sat on the bed, frustrated. We went to a nice dinner and ordered expensive food and drinks and laughed a lot, but all the while my mind was still on the image of them together in the shower. Then we went to a club, and danced. Or more accurately, the girls danced together, and I sipped cocktail after cocktail, feeling even more stupid. I had come to the conclusion that this spring break was the dumbest idea ever, and that I just wasn't the spring break guy to turn the situation into some sort of porn movie plot line.

By last call, the girls were danced out, and ready to leave, so we all headed back to the tiny motel room. We all sat on the big bed--the only place to sit in the room--and sipped the left-over wine. The girls were sweaty and gorgeous. I wished I knew how to make the move to kiss one. But which one? How does one start a three-way? Emmy asked me about my girlfriend, and I told her I was single, and the conversation turned to my sex life--or lack thereof. It was sort of embarrassing, but leading in the right direction. We were all getting a little drunk.

Emmy's questions were become like a truth or dare game, but without the dares. I wanted to turn the conversation that way, but didn't know how. We started talking about the most sexually daring things we'd done. Emmy confessed that she'd masturbated on a cross-atlantic flight, while two strangers on either side of her slept. That was a sexy image, and I knew Emmy had a wild side I just needed to figure out how to tap.

I asked Kat if she'd ever kissed another girl before. She first looked annoyed, but then glanced over at Emmy and cracked a smile. Her eyes sparkled. "Of course," she said.

I confessed that I'd never seen two girls, or had an orgy, or anything like that, but that it'd always been a life-long fantasy. "You've never seen two girls kiss?" said Emmy, incredulous. "Not even at a party or a club?"

I hadn't.

Emmy an Kat exchanged a coy drunken look. "Well?" asked Emmy. "Should we?" Kat grinned, swayed, and shrugged. The girls fell toward each other, almost knocking foreheads, but catching their balance, they locked into a soft, passionate french kiss. It was the gentlest kiss I'd ever witnessed. I was astonished.

When Emmy finally pulled away, Kat left her eyes closed. She looked in total bliss, her head swimming, her body turned on. "Is that what you wanted?" asked Emmy. I could only nod. "That was nice," sighed Kat.

"Is this how orgies start?" I asked, trying to make a joke reference. Emmy laughed. It was clear I was straining to be part of the scene. Emmy whisphered into Kat's ear. Kat nodded.

After the girls exchanged a long, private conversation, Kat turned to me and reported. "You can watch," said Kat. "But that's it. Watching only, no touching, no joining."

I was amazed, shocked, confused. It was not at all how I imagined such things would go.

Kat leaned a little closer to me. "Em thinks your sweet, but she's not into guys." Kat explained that Emmy was really turned on by the idea of being watched, and that it had been a fantasy of hers, but that she just didn't want a penis involved. She said I could watch from any angle, as long as I was off teh bed. Those are the ground rules

"Nothing personal," added Emmy.

I nodded, totally disappointed. But soon, the ground rules had been established and the room felt energized again. Kat leaned over to Emmy, and they resumed their kiss. Soon they leaned back onto the bed. They didn't tear off their dresses and go to it like a man would, but seemed to go slowly, softly, pulling down part of the fabric, nibbling on a breast. Touching, gliding hands over each other, exploring.

I watched Emmy slip down Kat's top and nipple on her small nipples. Kat had small breast, pointed into sharp tip that Emmy lapped, and flicked with her tongue. It made Kat writhe. She seemed to be having a series of small orgasms just from teh nipple stimulation, something I never could have imagined.

Kat pulled Emmy down onto her back, and then gently kissed her way between Emmy's legs. With her hips in the air, Kat's dress fell down, exposing her bare bottom. I so desperately wanted to reach out my hand and caress her bare cheeks, and the soft folds of glisten flesh between her legs. She was totally shaved, even her asshole. I wanted to dip my tongue into her soft skin, but I'd promised. She was intently lapping Emmy's labia. Both girls still had their crazy club heels on. Emmy closed her eyes as Kat's tongue burrowed inside her. She began to convulse as orgasm overtook her.

The girls never really stopped, but simply passed out. I turned off the lights and slipped into bed beside them. I totally wanted to feel them both up, to try my luck at starting a 3-way, but real life is not like porn. They were far too drunk, totally passed out, and as much as I desired Emmy, she wasn't into guys. I'd been given an amazing front seat to something real, something tender, and passionate, and very sexy. Frustrated as I was physically, mentally I knew I'd never have a spring break like that again. I knew it was better to relish what really happened, than to lie about what could have happened.

THE OFFICIAL OUTFIT OF SUMMER

SUNLIGHT TUESDAY

Some mornings it's nice to wake up with the sun. Warm light against skin leads to touches. A great way to start the day.

COASTAL COLD

It's so much cooler on the coast. Along HWY 101, tourists pull off at the scenic veiwpoints. They get out of their cars and walk to the fence, look out at the Pacific. Someone with a camera holds it up, and the other person knows what to do. Look at the camera, smile, wait for the click. The wind off the ocean, cold, salty, bracing.

FLASHBACK

You have to understand that before the digital cameras and the internet and cel phones, taking nude photos was totally different. First, it cost money for film and developing, and then, when you dropped off your film for processing, you'd have to wait a week. If the lab decided the film was lewd, it could confiscate it. You never knew if a prude got your print and destroyed it, or if some geeky part-time employee found it and took it for his own onerous purpose. In any case, Polaroids were teh only way one could be sure the pictures were kept private. Sending them, was another story. They couldn't be emailed or texted like today, but had to be mailed.

In college, my girlfriend and I attended different schools. Before cel phones, long distance was ridiculously expensive. Before emails, our only contact was letters. We'd see each other on breaks and fuck like bunnies, trying to pack in all the sex to last us another few months. This only served to make the breaks even more unbearable. Our letters became the primary outlet of our pent up sexual frustration. I was an English major and would pen detailed erotica for her. She was an art major and would sent sketches of us in various positions.

This is a side note, but before the 1990s, women did not shave their public hair. Sure most trimmed up the bikini lines, but bushes were thick and full. Once the '90s hit, shaving not only became the trend, it became the norm. This last generation has not grown up with bushes. But my generation did. They had big bushes as did each generation before them, and so the idea of shaving off one's pubic hair was so radical and so totally uncommon, that it became for many boyfriends, the ultimate sexual fantasy.

So, to wait weeks between letters, to get an occasional sketch or even better a polaroid, was how we had a sex life back in college. It was a thrill to see a new letter in the mail box, to save it all day in my book bag, waiting through class to go back to the dorm room to open it in private. How shocked, overwhelmed, and turned on I was to find a new polaroid enclosed. This latest one showed my girlfriend on her dorm room bed, leaning back on her pillows, her legs spread. My eyes went immediately there, and instead of seeing her tuft of sandy blonde curls, I saw bare, freshly shaved skin. It was the first time I'd ever seen a woman shaved bare. It would remain for the rest of my life, the most indelible and most erotic, and most romantic gesture.

Of course, at the time, I masturbated so often and so hard to that photo, it never crossed my mind that Polaroids don't have self-timers. When we were together it never occurred to me someone must have taken the photo. Was it her roommate? Another guy? College was a time of sexual experimentation and awakening. Clearly my girlfriend was making more strides forward, faster, than I'd even realized.

BACK TO NATURE

There is something about camping that makes people revert to their animal nature. In all the millions of years of human history, it's only been a few generations of electricity and indoor plumbing. Something about sleeping on the ground, not showering, cooking over an open stove. And all the sensory of bird songs, pine pitch, cold night air, and dew at dawn. People start smelling, looking, more wild. No showers, women stop shaving, let hair sprout again. Get on all fours, want to be mounted. And the men, barbaric, take them.

OUR PRIVATE YEARBOOK

My high school girlfriend was the photo editor of the yearbook. I'd stop by after track practice as she finished up printing. I watched with great curiosity as the images slowly appeared in the developer tray. She showed me each step of the black and white darkroom, setting the timer on the enlarger, making test strips, and the three trays filled with developer, stop, and fixer. She even let me try, and soon I'd gotten the hang of it.

Let's do some nudes, I suggested. Where? she asked. Here, I said. She wasn't the only one with a key to the yearbook darkroom, but since it was a darkroom, anyone would knock before opening the door. Still, it was dangerous, and getting caught could mean suspension, or even getting expelled. The darkroom was small and cluttered, so we hung a sheet for a backdrop. It wasn't exactly professional looking, but it helped, and in truth, we were both so turned on that photography wasn't the first thing on our mind. She stripped quickly and began to pose. Our hearts were racing with the excitement of taking nude photos and the danger of getting caught at any second. I snapped a few photos, trying to concentrate on the art, but sporting a hard boner in my track shorts. She could plainly see my excitement and was wet herself. She tugged me onto her and we made love then and there in the darkroom on the floor. It was fast and passionate, and when we were done, we quickly dressed and returned the sheet.

It was the only time we made love in the darkroom, but the pictures remain as a wonderful reminder.

KNOTTY

When I was in high school, I earned money mowing lawns for the rich people who lived in Lake Oswego. I always wondered what really happened inside the large homes, if the people were really happy with all their trappings of material success, or if they were (as I suspected) that much more bored. I never found out, but I did learn that even rich housewives like to suntan nude. Through a wooden fence, I could spy through a knot in one of the planks, which afforded a clear view to the neighbor's pool patio. If this were a Penthouse Letter, the story would entail the house wife catching me and then forcing me to have sex to keep me quiet, and it'd be a coming of age story. But of course, that's not how it happened. I watched without being obvious; she never knew. I saw her nakedness and fantasized about her seducing me, and that was all. But it was enough. What I wouldn't give to be that innocent age again, peeking through the fence.

SHOWER SHAVER

WYOMING OPEN

This is what 30-something wives do in Wyoming. Husbands may be rancher, roughneck, road crew, smoke jumper. Gone on site for weeks, the driving distances measured in 100s of miles. The lady's gotta entertain themselves somehow. In Wyoming there are so few people that large tracks of land are still technically classified as "frontier" by the US Census Bureau. Marriages last or they don't. Folks grow up with graduating high school classes of a dozen students. The lines of who dates who cross and cross again.

SKINNY DIPPING WITH FRIENDS

Skinny dipping is always more fun when shared with friends!

THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS

AMERICAN CLASSICS

STAR SPANGLED

Oh say can you see
by the dawn's early light
what so proudly we hailed
at the twilight's last gleaming...
Happy birthday America!

WOOD PANEL

THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER