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Changing Channels, Chapter Three
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
CHANGING CHANNELS
Chapter Three
Georgia Tech grad school was great. I got weekend TV
exposure doing news updates and was surprised to be
recognized occasionally in public. But I still lived at home
with my parents, waiting for my full-time break to come and
if not, waiting for my master's degree to be wrapped up.
During the summer break, I took on a bit more time at
the station including some radio. Tuesday was my night off
and Tommy, who lived next door now (Mickie had moved to
Phoenix), invited me to go to a bar to meet some friends of
his. Tommy's sister Nina was something to see, by the way.
They had a pool in their back yard, and she had the kind of
body that makes it to the pages of SPORTS ILLUSTRATED. But
she was too close to home for me to pursue.
I wasn't much to hop bars, but I liked to meet new
people and was ready to get back into circulation. The table
was full of fresh faces, the most interesting of which was
Martha, a very tall, very pretty woman. She had small
breasts, great legs, and a fabulous face with eyes oriental
in shape and green in color. Her eyes attracted me to her,
and when the band slowed things down, I asked her to dance.
At five foot seven, I'm not too short, but she was six foot
three. Imagine where my face was as we danced.
After several dances, I asked her: "What are you doing
Saturday night?"
"You don't want to take me out," she said, taking a sip
of her tequila sunrise.
"Oh, yes, I do."
She was serious: "You don't want to take me out."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because I have a five year old."
"So what?"
She looked at me. "You don't mind?"
"Of course not."
"He's not with me now, though," she said. "He's in New
Jersey with his father for the rest of the month."
For about two weeks, I took her to dinner and dancing.
I was the gentleman, and she enjoyed my occasional celebrity.
As for Martha, she'd never seen me on the air. "What about
Sunday?" I asked. I had the day off.
"Why don't you come over to my apartment? We'll go
swimming and then cook out."
I agreed. We swam for about an hour and then went
inside. I used one of her showers and she used the other. I
half expected her to join me, but she didn't. When I got out
and dressed, I helped her prepare dinner. She was wearing
shorts and a knit halter, one that buttoned in the front.
She put on an 8 track tape of GOODBYE YELLOW BRICK ROAD and
we went to the couch and listened after dinner, drinking
white wine.
I thought to myself: "This is the opportunity. Nobody
here but us." So I started to kiss her, being carefully not
to rush things. I got her to recline and we held each other
and kissed again and again. I carefully lodged my knee on
where I thought her clit would be and gently rotated it.
The air conditioning was very cold, but she was starting
to radiate heat. Then Martha said: "I want you to make love
to me."
"Are you sure?"
"Let's go to the bedroom." She led me back to her bed,
a king sized job. We climbed in still dressed. I continued
to kiss her for a while.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
She nodded. I slowly unbuttoned the three buttons on
the front of her halter. "There," I said as I finished,
revealing nothing. She smiled and quickly flicked the halter
open. Her breasts were small and as she was very tall and
lying down, they seemed almost flat. But her nipples were so
hard that they pointed straight up. My mouth was instantly
on her sucking to the right and to the left.
Eventually, my hands started stroking her crotch. She
unsnapped her pants, and I removed her pants and panties
simultaneously. She had very little pubic hair. Her legs
went on forever.
She pulled off my shirt and removed my pants. "God,
you're big," she said as she saw my dick. "I'll be right
back." She left the bed and went to the bathroom. I thought
she might be inserting a diaphragm, but she came back quickly
with a tube of lubricant. She coated her hands and then
rubbed the lubricant over my head and down my shaft. "One
small problem; it's the wrong time to come inside of me, but
I'm going back on the pill right away." I nodded. "Make
love to me," she said. I prepared to climb into her. She
spread her legs and put her feet on my knees; this made entry
easier. And with the lubricant, I slid right in. Martha
came immediately.
I have never before or since performed like I did that
evening. Maybe it was her prohibition on my ejaculation
inside of her, and it was strange because the whole
experience felt so great, but I kept not coming. Four hours
and many positions later, she was next to exhaustion. But
she was satisfied. She covered her hands with the lubricant
again and began to massage my dick. She started at the base,
then slowly up the shaft, and finally turning her hands in a
circular motion over the head and down again. After about
five minutes of this, I came in rush after rush into a towel
that she had placed before me.
Over the next couple of years, we continued our fabulous
existence. When seen together, we were called the "Jolly
Green Giant and the Little Green Sprout." With her son
around, fucking was more difficult, and Martha showed a
special delight in having sex in more or less public places.
Once when I went to the broadcast journalism convention in
New Orleans, we took a motel room south of the river. She
sat me in one of those motel desk chairs and tied my hands
behind me and my feet to the legs of the chair. She
lubricated me and then mounted me. Her height made this
position easy for her. She bounced and bounced until she
came and I came shortly after, but she wouldn't quit. After
I come, I like to quit for a while and then gear up again.
But she had total control over me, and it was not
comfortable. She could tell I was pissed, and I would never
do the chair deal again.
After I got my master's degree, I was hired by a station
in North Carolina to be a weekend anchor. Martha didn't like
the fact that I moved away from Atlanta, but I got an
apartment and she would leave her son with her mother and
would spend the weekends with me. I was busy as a reporter
during the week and wrote a lot of copy. But I didn't cruise
much.
My one interesting diversion was a top-heavy artist
named Casie. I had done a story on her outdoor sculpture
gallery. She invited me over for dinner, but her mother was
there to cook for us. I took her to a film, a Charles
Bronson picture, I think. We went back to my place for
drinks. I hadn't really planned anything, but she took a sip
of her vodka and said: "You can't have everything tonight,
but I'll let you have something. What do you want?"
"I wasn't expecting anything."
"I'll let you have my tits, then," she said. "I'm
rather proud of my tits. I got them from my grandmother."
She went back to my bedroom dropping her dashiki and bra to
the floor. I removed my shirt, and we played for a while,
during which she talked constantly. I can't remember about
what. I didn't respond to her next invitation.
I got an invitation to a commentary workshop in D.C. and
invited Martha to go along. She took in the sights while I
took in the notes. And Dina was there. She had an anchor at
the top rated station in Virginia. After the workshop one
day, we went to a little bar in Georgetown. There was a
piano, and Dina talked me into playing.
Martha and I left that weekend for Atlanta, but
something was different. I couldn't put my finger on it
then. I thought it was she, but it was I.
Time passed. I was shifted to the nightly news and had
weekends free. I still saw Martha on every other weekend.
One Monday, I was writing a story and the phone rang. A
voice said: "Is this Sam?"
"No, it's Pete."
"No, I mean Sam," she said. "You know, the guy who
plays piano in the bar?"
"Dina?"
"Whatcha doin' this weekend?"
Martha was coming up. "Nothing."
"There's a little town over in Maryland that has a
festival the weekend. Prince Frederick. Small and charming.
Interested?"
In her or in the festival? "What should I bring?"
"Just yourself," she said. "I've rented a cottage.
It's cold nights, though. Come prepared. I'll drop you a
map in today's mail." Click.
I called Martha and told her that I had to go back to
D.C. She may not have believed I was doing a story, but I
didn't want to burn her bridge.
I drove up to the Chesapeake Bay and found the cottage
easily. Dina hopped off the porch when she saw me arrive.
She was wearing blue jeans and a red and white striped knit
top, and when she jogged up to meet me, I could tell she was
not wearing a bra. Her car was a yellow VW convertible, and
the weather was perfect for it.
Dina had been working on a story about Colorado politics
and the senator she had interviewed had given her a six-pack
of Coors. In the mid-seventies, it wasn't that easy to get
Coors in the east, so this was a luxury. I went out back to
start the charcoal after I had left my bags inside. I had
left the charcoal bag open on the ground, and Dina bent over
to pick it up. I knew I could have had a clear peak at her
breasts if I had looked that way, but I figured there was no
point. After all, I doubted she would have invited me up
here without sex in mind.
Dina was beautiful. She had dark red, curly hair and a
wide smile, pouty lips, and a fabulous figure. Nothing was
overdone, but she looked great.
We cooked and talked and watched the bay. We served
food out on a picnic table behind the cottage. Dina made no
secret of taking a birth control bill either. But I
pretended not to notice. I sure as hell wasn't going to play
hard to get with a woman I found this attractive, but there
might be some advantage to taking my time.
The sun went down, and it became too cool to be
comfortable rather quickly. We went in and built a fire. I
had brought along a melodian, kind of an accordion keyboard
with a mouthpiece, and I played for a while. She seemed to
really enjoy that. I set it down after playing a few tunes
and then killed the rest of one of the Coors. Dina bent over
my way and began kissing me - kissing me hard. Her tongue
was darting in and out of my mouth. I decided to let her
take the lead and it wasn't long before she said: "Let's go
lie down."
We went into the bedroom and she got into bed, still
dressed. I followed suit and went back to kissing her,
remaining a gentleman with my hands. "I'm getting a little
hot," she said, and with that, she pulled off the knit top.
As I took off my own shirt, I could see only by the light of
the fire in the other room, but her nipples were erect and
calling for me. As my hands explored her breasts, I
discovered how firm they were. Perfection is subjective, of
course, but these felt perfect.
It was time for me to take a bit more control, and
removing her pants was my way of doing so. Even her pubic
hair was a perfect triangle. She was already wonderfully
wet. "Take off your pants," she said. And as I was doing
so, she reached around blindly to find my dick. Her hand
started at the top and stroked all the way down. "Oh, God!"
she said.
"What is it?"
"You're so big," she said. "When I touched you, I
came!"
I immediately entered her; she was very tight. Foreplay
could come some other time. Dina was about three inches
shorter than I, but it was as if her sheathe was custom made
for my sword. She must have come several more times before I
did. But when I came, I seemed to come it waves and Dina
shuddered with the feeling of it.
We collapsed in each other's arms. I never got to the
festival, whatever it was. We spent the entire weekend
talking about broadcast journalism and fucking, to the point
that Dina was so sore that we had to seek out some medical
attention at the local pharmacy. That incident was sort of
funny, as the only person available to wait on her in the
little town was a girl who looked about fifteen and who
looked amused at her purchase.
Dina thought she might be more comfortable on top of me,
so she lubricated me thoroughly and slid herself down on me
as my hands hungrily fondled her incredible tits. Her face
was a combination of pain and pleasure. Once again, I had
the thought that I had never had a more perfect fit. She
slowly started to rise and fall and picked up speed very
gradually. Once she got going though, her movements were
amazingly fast. Imagine having sex with a paint shaker and
you have the idea. Her irritation may have impeded her
orgasm, but once she came, it was an earthquake. And I came
at the same time.
The next morning, I woke and walked to the bathroom.
Dina was soaking in the tub. "Where does this go from here?"
I asked.
"Where do you want it to go?" she asked me.
"I have to get out of an arrangement," I said. "But we
need to do this more regularly."
"My sentiments exactly," she said. "Scrub my back."
When I arrived in Atlanta, Martha had attempted to
arrange a romantic evening. She wanted to make love, but I
just couldn't do it. I told her that I had met someone and
that she and I were going to try to establish a less
temporary arrangement. She said something about how she'd
let me do it (as if she could stop me) and that if I wanted
to come back, that I could; but only once. I left.
Luckily, I got a network job in Washington. In a way,
it was a step up. Dina took the "Eye on Washington" position
at her Virginia station and commuted twice a week. We got an
apartment in Georgetown. For about three months, we never
tired of fucking. Dina had reservations about my coming in
her mouth, but she had little reservations about anything
else in a normal heterosexual relationship.
Dina's brother was a nationally know sports commentator
who started giving her hell about living with me. He liked
me a lot; he just didn't like the "living in sin" part of our
relationship. And if that weren't the stupidest reason
anybody ever got married, I don't know of one. But we DID
get married. And marriage changed us. Dina didn't want to
have kids because of her career, and I had always wanted
children.
After we'd been married about a year and a half, Dina
started buying Playboy magazine and bringing it home to me.
I didn't ask why, but I soon found out. I had told Dina that
I wanted to make love with her, and she had said: "OK, just
give me a few minutes." I went looking for the magazine to
read while I waited for her to "get ready," whatever that
meant. When I couldn't find it, I went back to our bedroom
to see if I'd left it there. Dina had it. She was looking
at the pictures, masturbating with one hand, and fondling her
own breasts with the other. I said nothing, but I stripped,
undressed her, ate her, and fucked her
Afterward, she pointed to the magazine and said: "Do you
think this is weird?"
"No," I answered.
"It just gets me in the mood," she said.
We kept growing apart. Dina seemed to stop enjoying
penetration although she still loved being eaten and
masturbation. She kept coming home later and later and then
not at all. I very calmly asked her about it. It seemed
that she had met the daughter of some Philippine diplomat and
that they had become lovers. I asked her if she'd like to
bring her home, but she said no.
That was about it. Dina had decided that lovemaking
with women was so good that she was giving up men altogether.
This didn't do a lot for my ego, but nothing was contested in
the divorce settlement. I was on my own again. I heard that
Dina met someone else, some other girl reporter. The two of
them became the news service out of Brasilia. The last I
heard she was out of broadcasting and married to some guy
again, a magazine publisher out of the Boston area.
I was on the loose again. I inaugurated our divorce
with a series of meaningless liaisons, including one with a
girl who loved to give head - so long as she was allowed to
put some teeth in it. It felt great, but very dangerous.
I got tired of one night stands after a while and began
dating a girl in the research office of the Washington
bureau. It took me a while to seduce Sheila, but she was
interesting. She was a bit overweight, but she had hair down
to her knees. She loved sex in a bathtub. And when we were
in her brass bed, she really got into holding on to the
headboard and bracing herself while she came. Did this mean
she was secretly into bondage? I didn't want to find out
because my one bondage experience was too much for me.
I took a duplex townhouse in Georgetown once the money
was really good, and the guy on the other side was a
successful sports reporter who covered the Bullets. We had a
good time going out together looking for women. We knew that
we could keep clear of the prejudiced bitches by being
together.
One night, we were in a trendy D.C. bar when two women
came in. One was a short, dumpy blond. The other was a
fabulous looking young woman with the largest blue eyes that
I had ever seen. They sat at a table near the dance floor.
I was up and headed that way immediately, but some geezer
beat me to her right when I made it to the table. I asked
the dumpy blond to dance. Fortunately, the geezer was too
drunk to last long with the gorgeous woman. She returned to
the table and was there when I returned with her friend. I
asked her to dance.
Her name was Janet. She was built like a model, slender
with small breasts and a bright smile. She was a fabulous
dancer. I had to have her. After about two hours of
dancing, I got her phone number, and she had agreed to go out
with me the next night.
I was doing this one without any chance for failure. I
brought roses met her parents, with whom she still lived. I
figured she had to be about twenty-five. We went dancing at
the same place, and I had her talked into going back to my
condo, but when we left, my car was iced over and the streets
were bad, so I took her home. As I kissed her goodnight on
the icy front porch, she almost took my tonsils out. A good
sign, I thought.
We dated for about six weeks before I tried anything.
She was a model and was doing some commercials, so we kept
about the same schedules, and I saw her frequently after
hours. I believe it was the day after Valentine's Day. It
was unusually warm for Washington that February. We had
walked down by the monument and went back to my place to
split a bottle of wine before going to dinner. She was
kissing me so passionately that I read that as a green light
and found my hands inside her bra and fondling her tits
before she could tell me know. These were the tits of a
lifetime, at least for me. They were firm cones with nipples
like marbles.
I didn't know what to say after she stopped me, so I
took her to dinner. She was pleasant but distracted. Had
she been a rape victim like Brandy back in my earlier days?
We were supposed to go out again the next night, so I figured
she'd tell me in her own time. But she broke our date. The
next two dates I proposed she turned me down, having
something else to do.
This seemed awfully suspicious to me, so I found out
where her next shoot was and showed up. One her break, I
took her for a walk. "What's wrong, Janet?"
"What you did," she said, "you didn't ask me."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I wouldn't have done anything to
mess up our relationship if I hadn't thought you wanted to.
I just always refused to separate physical love from outright
romantic love. I won't do anything again unless you ask me."
This seemed to work. She agreed to see me again. And
it proved in her case that, as long as she felt it was her
idea, we would progress gradually through her sexual
initiation. She hadn't told me before, but she was nineteen.
We had been to a reception after a concert at Lincoln
Center, and Janet was wearing a long skirt and a formal
halter top. We went back to my place, and I was making
daiquiris. When I entered the den with them, she was nowhere
to be seen. "Pete?" She was calling from the bedroom. When
I entered, she was lying on the bed in dim light. Her halter
did not quite fit her somehow. I placed our drinks on the
bedside table and lay beside her on the bed. As I put my
arms around her, I realized what she had done. The halter
was off; she had simply modestly put it over her bare
breasts. It fell to the side. I removed my shirt and only
let my own chest touch her.
After some kissing and drinking, she placed my hands,
cold from the daiquiri, on her tits. They were rock hard. I
would never tire of fondling them. She had the most perfect
skin I'd ever seen. I gently kissed her nipples. Then I let
my tongue take over, licking circles around them, then
pulling a nipple into my mouth and continuing to suck until a
whole tit was in my mouth. She began to purr and pull
herself as close to me as she could. But I knew better than
to go for her pussy at this time.
After an hour or so, I went into the bathroom and washed
my face. Janet came over and leaned into the bathroom. With
fabulous muscle control, it seems as if she were actually
pointing at me with her tits. With my hands still wet, I
reached out and fondled both her tits. I was in love.
After about three evenings of similar activity, we were
lying in bed. Janet turned to me and said: "I think I want
you to take my pants off." Gently, I obliged her. "Turn off
the light," she said. I did. Then, I took her panties off
and lay beside her. I must have waited for a couple of
minutes before she said: "Now." As my hand made its way down
her flat stomach, she began to vibrate. My had was surprised
to find so little pubic hair. My hand massaged her pubic
mound. When she was comfortable and began to open her legs,
my hand moved down into the heat and wetness below. I took
no time at all finding the one spot that my touch alone could
bring to ecstasy. She was soon in the throes of orgasm. If
this were her first, it was going to be hard to top.
The next night, we came to the same point, and she said:
"Take your pants off, too." I did. This night, the lights
were on, and she gasped at the size of my dick. She reached
out and gently touched it. "How can I make you feel good,
too?"
"Sit up," I said.
She did. I began to play with her tits. "Just stroke
me," I said. "Use your imagination. I'll come sooner or
later."
Janet was great with her imagination. Up and down and
round and round. And those tits seemed to bet harder and
harder. I was about to come and told her. She didn't stop
what she was doing. She pointed me straight up. My first
spurt may still be going somewhere; I never found it on the
ceiling. But my second and third spurts Janet used to coat
her hands and then used the natural lubricant to massage my
super-sensitive head.
When I recovered, I lay her back on the bed. I kissed
up the inside of one leg and down the other, then back up.
Then my tongue started to flick at the tiny bit of brown
pubic hair that she had. I moved my tongue into her tight,
virgin opening. Then I flattened it and moved up to her
clit, where I rhythmically tossed it back and forth until she
came in spasms.
The following night, she said: "Make love to me tonight,
but wear a condom, OK?" I hated condoms, but it that's what
Janet wanted, that's what I'd give her. She looked so
fabulous lying naked on my bed. I slipped the condom on
after I had eaten her enough to get her very wet. I tried my
best to enter her, but she was so tight, I failed.
"It's the condom," I said.
"Pete," she said. "I've got a career."
"And I have another alternative," I said. I had bought
a spermicical suppository kit. I went to the refrigerator
and got one. She spread her legs for me to insert it. Her
hymen was bleeding and about to be no more. After the
suppository had had time to melt, I gently tried again. This
time, I slid in. She may have been small and slender, but
she took every inch of me!
I was very gentle. I took my time. She came, over and
over, sinking her fingernails into my back. "I'm yours
forever," she said. I was glad. She was just what I wanted,
long term.
The next day, Janet was waiting for me when I got home
from my broadcast. She said little, but she undressed me and
herself. She lay me in bed and sat on my chest, her firm
little butt in my face. Before I could figure what she had
in mind, my dick was in her mouth, and her head was hammering
up and down. I slipped lower so I could get my tongue in her
crack and let it flail about finally getting at her clit.
Janet seemed to be swallowing me. She was experimenting, of
course, but learning fast. When I came in her mouth, she
sucked as hard as she could and swallowed. The rhythm was
perfect; I don't think she lost a drop. And my the time I
had finished coming, she came from my licking.
Several weeks after we started consummating our
relationship, Janet called her friend Martine. Martine gave
Janet an alibi for her parents, and she spent the night. We
fucked for hours on end, in every room, in the shower. I got
up the next morning and cooked her breakfast before leaving
for the station. We loved each other.
That day, I got a call from Janet. She asked me to meet
her at a studio. I was supposed to wait for her there. She
was to be elsewhere, and Martine was doing a shoot there. As
I arrived, Martine met me. She was a statuesque blond.
"Want to watch the shoot?" she asked.
"Sure," I said.
"Well," she said, "sit on that stool and try not to get
in the way." She laughed. The set was of a lacey bedroom.
Several photographers were there. Martine entered the
picture in a sexy nightgown. I figured she was doing a shoot
for a mattress company, but about three minutes after they
began shooting, she removed the nightgown and started to
fondle her own huge breasts and then to finger her blond
bush. I couldn't control my erection. My mouth was dry.
Martine took a break. She threw on a robe and came over
to me. "Janet says you're pretty good," she said, "as if she
had someone to compare you to." She laughed. "I made her
tell me after she asked me to take calls for her at my
place."
"Cute."
"Listen, she doesn't know what she's got," said Martine.
"If you ever want an experienced fuck - "
"Thanks, but no thanks. Last year, maybe. But not
now."
"Too bad," she said, lighting a cigarette.
Not too long after that, Janet showed up. "You knew
about this?"
"Oh, yeah," Janet said, "Martine does this all the time.
Get you hard?"
"Well," I said, "even though I'm on a diet, I guess it
doesn't matter that I look at the menu." She hit me.
We were married at the end of June. We went to New York
City on our honeymoon. It was then that I got the network
job. New York was perfect for her career as well. But
models usually just have a few good years, and when hers were
past, we started our family. I thought that I had settled
down. As I thought back twenty years to my first sexual
experience, I realized how far I had come since I had
"changed my channel." But nothing was to have prepared me
for the sexual challenge that came next!
Want to know what happened to Pete after this? You can get a
floppy disk of the other nine chapters of Pete's adventures
by sending five dollars and a stamped, self-addressed
envelope to
Pete
5025 Stage Road
PO Box 156
Memphis, TN 38128
Please specify 3.5 or 5.25 as the disk format you prefer.
All software is MS-DOS only.
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