Infinite Pussy

The internet allows us to have access to infinite pussy. At least, the pictures of infinite pussy.

I've been chasing pictures of naked people for most of my life, and naked people almost as long. I've become fetishized on certain aspects of sex, based on my experiences, by the hurts I've felt, and by the intense pleasures I've experienced.

I can't pretend to have done it all. I've never swapped my wife - although my first (red-headed) one slept out on me. I haven't had sex with more than 2 people (although there was once another couple in the room, and we kept going, all four of us knowing they could hear every grunt, sigh, and slooshy sound).

A good couple dozen people have seen me naked and had some form of sex with me, even if it wasn't necessarily explicit vaginal-penis contact.

The question of access makes the events of my life less pre-determined (or post-determined?) and more a collection of events that have been chosen by me to remember.

That have shaped me, for good or bad. And that I'm reliving here, to recapture the times I was horny, and stupid, and driven by lust.

Encounter at the Beach

I saw my first erect cock before I saw my first pussy. I guess that's not normal – most men never see an erect cock besides their own. I was young, about 8 or 9. Me and my younger brother were at the beach down the avenue from our house and climbing around one of those open brick bathrooms with the walls that didn't go all the way to the eaves.

Inside one of the stainless-steel stalls – which had no door – was a kid, maybe 14 or 15, with his pants around his ankles and an enormous erection.

This kid was kinda dopey, maybe he was retarded a little. And his penis was huge, almost a foot long and its girth was almost 3 inches across. It was too big. He was stroking it as he sat on the toilet. This was not just a penis. This was a cock.

I was just starting to figure out that my penis felt good. I wasn't yet old enough to be grossed out by a naked body yet, either girl's or boy's, and this young teenager wasn't particularly threatening. I seem to remember he had light pubic hair, the thin soft patch that hadn't yet gotten tangly or burly.

He saw us climbing on the walls, and showed us what was going on. He started stroking himself, and asked us if we would to it for him.

We didn't want to. We asked him if he could touch it with his mouth. He showed us that he could. He was that long. But he wanted us to come in – he didn't want to do it, he wanted us to.

At that point I didn't know what would happen with that cock. I simply knew I had no curiosity and a little trepidation over strangers, and didn't want to have to start something I didn't know how to finish. And if it would change my orientation somehow, which wasn't yet codified or really decided yet.

This young boy probably had experiences with that large cock, with his (perhaps) diminished state, with other, older people I could never understand.

But I knew that even if he would have enjoyed me joining him, I wouldn't particularly have. And that was somehow important to me to be a participant, not a conduit to the activity.

Cheryl Rixon

Cheryl Rixon appeared in Penthouse magazine in December of 1977, and was chosen the Penthouse pet at the beginning of 1979.

My dad had issues of Penthouse stashed in the bottom drawer of his dresser, and I found them and would peruse them with mild interest. This interest grew as I moved into puberty, and I could barely contain myself when I began to be able to purchase these illicit and magical magazines for myself, barely 17.

One of the first ones I bought was that December Penthouse, which was so much better than Playboy because they showed wide-open beavers. Not entirely wide-open, but it left little to my imagination, having not had any experience with any beavers up to that time.

Cheryl's pussy was covered with a light red hair, and her thighs were heavy, and her ass succulent the way she posed, jutting up as if to take the thrusts of cock. While her labia weren't entirely visible (Penthouse would slowly move towards that through the '80s) the shape of her pubis, and her slightly open buttocks and split ready cunt drove me to horny masturbatory convulsions dozens of times.

I think I jerked off to those pictures of Cheryl Rixon - with her light eyes, her playful gaze into the camera, and her red pussy hair, more cushion than thatch - more often, more completely, and more satisfyingly than any other single stroke-book image my entire life. (Jennifer Welles, the equally buxom and dishwater-haired porn star, probably comes in a close second.) It was all I had, before the internet, and VHS tapes.

Ms. Rixon retired from the business after appearing in some films, and is now running a perfume business.



I'm sure my obsession with red pussy hair began with her.

Dormain At Work

Dormain was the freakiest virgin I ever met. She worked at a movie theatre I used to manage, and while she was cute, she wasn't quite pretty, and while she was smart, she wasn't worldly. She knew there was a world of interesting experiences out there, and while she fiercely protected her virginity, she didn't think she should deprive herself of pleasure.

We got together about once every 2 weeks, after work in one of our cars. We'd drive somewhere and she would play with my cock, but would never let me touch her pussy. She gave me handjobs, pushing my pants down to my knees, and would taste my cum when it oozed out. Her blowjobs were tentative but playful. She laughed a lot, but wouldn't take off her pants. I couldn't even get her to go down to her underwear, although I did touch her tits.

She convinced me to drink only certain things the day before we would plan to get together – V8 or pineapple juice. She would tell me not to eat any red meat. And for 3 days I wouldn't.

And she would report on how my cum tasted. I did whatever she told me, but it only lasted about 2 months. It wasn't right, and she had learned what she wanted. That she could do that. To me, a co-worker. I never told anyone about it until this. And I was glad to be rid of the whole thing too.

She moved to go to college shortly thereafter.

Ass Story

She's gotta get to the phone, to explain to her husband why she'll be late getting home tonight again.

But she's getting fucked so good by that big dick in the office lounge.

She may not make it home at all. If I were him, I wouldn't let her leave. Not with that ass.

And now, with his big dick in her tight asshole, lubricated and wet, and he pumps her. Doggy-style. Deep in her ass.

He pumps her, and he's gonna cum so quick and so hard, he won't be able to get it up for hours. So she might as well.

"I don't want to suck you hard again," she says. "I'll taste my own asshole."

When she gets home she gets her husband to give her more...this time in her pussy. Missionary. And he wonders why she got so lubricated so quick, is so slick.

"God honey, you're really wet," he says. Her scent is musty, like fresh earthworms.

"It's Phil's cum, at the office. It ran out of my asshole and onto my pussy."

"Holy shit. My dick is in another guy's spunk."

"You know you like it, honey. Keep fucking me."

He does. And cums inside her, mixing with Phil's overripe jizz.

She takes her fingers and wipes the thick cum off her labia as it drips out of her red pussy lips. She licks it - it tastes different than any sperm she's ever tasted before.

The Fourth Wall

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