IN THE ASS ONLY
SEX WITH STRANGERS: VOLUME FOUR
Copyright 2017 JT
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story is intended for a mature audience only! Contains explicit,
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under the age of 18 or those with a weak heart! I repeat: 18 and over
TABLE OF CONTENTS
THE ASS ONLY
THE ASS ONLY
I’ve always been lucky when it comes to
women. I’m not quite sure why. I’m a decent enough looking
fellow, a shade over six feet tall and 170 pounds with an in-shape
body of a natural athlete who spends a lot of time outdoors, but I’m
certainly nothing special. But for some reason, there’s something
about me that draws a specific type of woman. Namely, sluts.
Every since I was a teenager they flocked
to me. In high school, college, and now into my late twenties, I
routinely get approached by women who just want to fuck. Most of the
time it’s just a one-time thing, with no complications or
commitments. At times it has turned into something more, but every
time a hook-up morphed into a relationship it fizzled out pretty
quickly. Again, I’m not sure why. But for some reason I just wasn’t
Which was fine by me. The way I see it,
relationships are more trouble than they’re worth. I was perfectly
content to have single nights (or afternoons) with women and then
move on. And I was lucky enough that I never had a shortage of
Like Shawna, for example.
There I was, just minding my own business
in line at the coffee shop after work, getting myself a cup of coffee
to help me through the evening, when I first saw her. She was a
platinum-haired beauty, standing right behind me in line,
wearing a white and black lingerie-style top and a black skirt. She
had dark eyes, full lips, perfect skin and a rockin’ body that she
obviously wasn’t afraid to show off.
Once glance and I turned away, not
wanting to stare. I’m a pretty nice guy, relaxed and mellow, but
I’m not real outgoing. I don’t generally start up conversations
with strangers. But apparently she had no such reservations.
“Quite a wait, huh?” she said,
talking to me as if we were old friends right from the get-go.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to return the
vibe. “Pretty typical for this place.”
“I know, but still, today seems longer
than usual,” she said. “At least I’ve got some decent scenery
to look at.”
I gave her a slightly confused look.
“What?” she said. “You don’t
think you’re good-looking?”
“I don’t know,” I said, not sure
where this was going and not wanting to make a fool of myself with a
complete stranger, especially one as hot as she was. “I’ve never
really thought about it much.”
“Oh, bullshit,” she said, laughing.
“Everyone thinks about what they look like.”
“True,” I said. “But I’m not
really concerned with it too much.”
“I can tell,” she said. “Otherwise
you’d shave every once in a while, or wash your hair.” Before I
could object, she continued on. “But you know what? I like that.
Too many people worry about what everyone else thinks these days.”
“I agree,” I said as the line moved
forward. It was my turn to order. I did, then asked my new friend
what she wanted. “My treat,” I told her.
“Why thank you,” she said after
placing her order. “I’m Shawna, by the way.”
“I’m Mike,” I said. “And it’s
the least I can do,” I said.
“And what’s the most?” she asked,
flashing me a mischievous grin.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean?” she said,
her grin growing wider.
“I have no idea,” I said.
Before the conversation could go any
further, the barista called out our names.
“Care to sit down with me and talk some
more, Mister Mike?”
“I’d be delighted,” I said.
“It’s hard to find a good man these
days,” she said shortly after we’d sat down. We were outside, at
the table in the corner of the patio, away from the rest of the
“Most guys are trash,” I said, still
not sure exactly where this was going. I had a few ideas, but I
didn’t want to presume too much for fear of getting disappointed.
“Tell me about it,” she said. “Of
course, I don’t exactly set myself up for success most of the
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I generally don’t go about
picking up guys the traditional way.”
“How do you go about them?” I asked.
“Well, if I want a guy, I’ll just go
up to him and ask if he wants to fuck.”
I’m not going to lie, it took some
effort to keep my coffee down when she said that. But eventually I
managed to ask: “What if the guy says no?”
“Then I go on to the next one,” she
said. “But that doesn’t happen very often, believe me.”
“Oh, I do,” I said. “So, is that
what you’re doing right now? Asking me if I want to fuck?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. It
“On you,” she said.
“Well, I’m pretty picky,” she said.
“Cocks. They have to be certain size or
I’m not really interested.”
“Is that right?”
“But how do you know how big it is
before you get their clothes off?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “There
are a whole bunch of different ways. Sometimes I take them to the
men’s room and get a little peek. Or the corner of the building.
But usually I just do this.”
She reached beneath the table and grabbed
ahold of my cock, grasping it through my pants, right there at the
patio of coffee shop. Luckily I was pretty hard just from talking to
“Well,” I said after she’d let go.
“What do you think?”
“Very impressive,” she said.
“Is it big enough for you?”