Dorothy Parker, the famed American humorist, was once known to have slyly observed, “women who wear slacks shouldn’t turn their backs.” I couldn’t disagree more.

That rear view of an enticing well-turned derriere is an object of sheer delight for any aficionado of anal sex, such as myself. Or for any continental playboy who loves nothing more than pinching some generous posterior by way of giving it his personal signature of approval.

Rare is the person for whom penetration into that forbidden core can be a pleasure with no pain. Anita is one such rarity. She not only loves to clutch at cock in the burning orifice of her buttocks, she also savors some astonishing variations on the same theme. And cunnilingus is never complete for her unless she feels several fingers deeply embedded in her other opening.

The firm, round swell of her shapely rear mesmerized me the very first time we met. My glance zeroed in on it and remained riveted; this was at a poolside cocktail party given by mutual friends in Kansas City. And I knew intuitively that the tiny rosette buried deep between those two beauties could drive my cock wild. As I quickly discovered, the lady was not one to mince words. “Methinks the gentleman hath an affinity for the lady’s ass-or doth the lady speak too much?” she drawled in one of those dusky, smoke-tilled contralto voices that jump-start my hormones.

Her frankness had me choking on my drink, not to mention blushing crimson. I was also aware that her gaze encompassed the bulge in the swimsuit I had borrowed from our host, Mark, for a quick dip. I tried to think of some witty response, but before I could, some Kansas City local complete with cowboy boots and ten-gallon hat was maneuvering her into a comer, one of his hands clasping her classy ass as though it were his own personal property.

I finally took advantage of the pool for temporary relief. While I was treading water and daydreaming, Anita suddenly popped out of the water beside me, alone and adorned with one of those next-to-nothing outfits known as “Brazilian dental floss.”

’Tm still waiting for your answer,” she teased, diving underwater again and passing between my legs. When that plush ass was directly beneath my crotch, my thighs clamped it tightly between them while my cock snuggled against the length of her crack. Then she broke free and burst to the surface, gasping for air again — laughing.

I was dearly hoping for more underwater foreplay, but it wasn’t meant to be. More of the guests who had brought their own swim wear were beginning to join us in order to escape the heat. We agreed to adjourn to a bistro that Mark had recommended, which was famous for its thick, juicy porterhouse steaks.

Cocktails and swimming had whetted our appetites enough to enable us to do justice to man-size portions of some really choice tenderloin and mellow wine. Then, as Anita’s ass was my ultimate objective, it was on to her temporary abode so I could have at it. She was staying at a swank motor inn near Kansas City’s downtown plaza and just around the comer from my own motel.

This time it was my hand possessively clasping that classy ass as we rode the elevator to her room. The air between us was fraught with electric anticipation, my cock already tingling and stirring. Pressing her backside against my hardening length, I nuzzled the nape of her velvety neck. Then she was unlocking the door and we were finally under cover.

We stripped quickly and moved to the bed. And if there was any ass on this earth I would die for, it had to be Anita’s — high and firm, with a succulent smoothness. All mine for the night! Her breasts were the ample, amorous kind, and I moved slow, careful fingertips around them… stroking and then pulling her nipples until they stood out hard for my mouth to savor. Licking them sent a tingling path of electrical charges straight to the core of my balls. Then Anita was pushing my legs apart and crawling between them to take charge of my cock.

Erotic spasms of expectation were shooting through me as my cock bobbed up and down, grazing her lips. Anita’s expert flicking tongue began to bum my balls and pepper my thighs with goose bumps. She arched her back and those glorious mounds of ass shot up in the air, and she lowered her head to engulf my erection to the very depths of her warm mouth.

Then, suddenly, Anita rose, turned her backside toward me and straddled my body. She was down on all fours, her ass just above my chest. “My turn,” she said hoarsely, that dusky voice tinged with thick excitement.

Pulling myself up into a sitting position, I wrapped my arms around her thighs and tugged that plush realm of pleasure to my face. Her pussy was wide open, its crimson tissue exposed, dripping its sweet nectar. I lapped the long opening for every drop, my tongue lingering to wrap itself around her clitoris. I kissed and nibbled her asscheeks, kneading them gently with my hands. Anita responded, her hips wriggling backward into my face, and my tongue used every maneuver it knew in order to relax her delicate rosette of a sphincter. Her entire body quivered with contentment as I fingered the puckered flesh and curled one finger inside to stroke the hidden nerve endings. Finally I could stand it no longer.

“You’re sure about taking it back there?” I asked.

Anita was adamant. “I’ve always been sure; it’s my preference.”

My excitement knew no bounds as I rubbed the crown of my cock in her juices and moved it toward her hot rose-bud. She never even so much as groaned as the head pressed inside her. I pumped her asshole slowly, moving further in with each persistent plunge. Anita became impatient. “Fuck me, please, fuck me, please,” she urged over and over. I lost no time in answering her pleas, reveling in the sticky tightness of that endless channel as I gave her every inch of my goodness with each stroke. She pressed back against me, her pussy muscles contracting around my probing fingers while my cock relentlessly socked it to her ass. And it wasn’t even a matter of minutes until we both collapsed into a simultaneous stormy rage of release.

“This is going to be the night that Kansas City knocked us on our asses” was Anita’s promise as we headed for the shower. It was, too.

Back again in New York, I tried in vain to connect with Anita for more anal delights. But it wasn’t until early fall that we both had a free weekend. When I wasn’t on the road for my corporation, Anita was off modeling on location. Then came the phone call I had been pinning all my hopes on. Anita had a free weekend, and what was more, she had access to a beach house in Patchogue, Long Island. Was I interested?

“You bet your bollom dollar I am,” I punned gleefully.

Her voice sounded huskier than ever. “Then let’s knock each other on the ass some more,” she promised for the second time.

We met by the clock in Grand Central and took the train, our tongues entangled most of the way. Vivid imagery of our last erotic encounter kept racing through my mind, imagery so real that my coi:k stayed rigid most of the trip. Ocean Avenue, where the beach house was located, was only blocks from the station. Just as well, too. Prolonged hardness had my groin incessantly aching with lust for Anita’s buttocks.

Anita’s girlfriend, the owner, had left a key under the backdoor mat, and we made it no further than the kitchen before I began again that which we had started weeks before in Kansas City.

Anita’s hips pressed forward to meet mine and to feel the hardness of my rampaging rod, and I ran my hands down her back. Through the sheerness of her blouse, I traced the arch of her supple spine, feeling her respond to the sensation with shudders of expectation when I reached the cleft of her ass. I could feel the heat radiating from between her legs. Anita’s head nuzzled my shoulder and she rose on tiptoe, arching her back so that my hand could slide farther down into the warm crack of that adorable ass.

Soon we were undressing each other. And that’s when I discovered that my anal ambrosia-in-the-flesh had been wearing an anal plug the entire trip! “I wanted to be conditioned to get the most from your cock,” she confessed.

“Bend over and let me have a better view,” I begged in a voice now gruff with lust.

She leaned over the kitchen counter, and I reached for her rear and stroked it gently before licking every pore of that ample flesh. I could smell the scent of her sex lubricating, and Anita moaned when I gave the tight plug several rotations. I started to crouch lower in order to reach her clitoris, but Anita began wiggling her ass impatiently. “Please, please,” she begged. “Pull it out fast and plug me with your dick.”

To the letter, I did as she requested, extracting the plug with a twist that had Anita squealing with pleasure. Then I plugged her promptly with my cock, penetrating deep in one fell swoop. God, was it good in there, even better than I remembered it being in Kansas City. With one hand I reached into the moist heat of her pussy, and I gave her every thick inch of my love, groaning loudly and sweating profusely as my hips ground against her bullocks. Her pussy was so wet, and as I played with her clitoris, my thrusts became wilder and deeper. Anita’s ass was a velvet vise around my swollen cock. Never before had a woman so willingly enjoyed the piston-like motion of my cock moving in and out of her ass. When Anita sensed my orgasm nearing, her bottom slammed into my pubic bush, and my cock was crammed deep inside her when I exploded. What a sensation!

Autumn tinged the night air, but it was still warm enough to swim in the small cove, where little waves washed up onto the outer fringes of the cottage lawn. Then we strolled to a seafood restaurant just down the beach, where the wine was superb and their specialty, lobster basted in a cognac herb sauce, was a gourmet delight. Soft candlelight reflected that irresistible gleam in Anita’s eyes that told me our fun weekend had just begun.

“I brought along a surprise for you,” she revealed when we were walking bare-foot in the sand back to the beach house.

I hazarded a guess. “I’ll bet a male anal plug to go with yours.”

Her rich laugh made my spine tingle. “Close. but not close enough. It’s a dildo to delight you with the same sensations I get.” Under the cover of the darkness, her hand was affectionately squeezing my ass.

“I don’t need a dildo — your derriere is pleasure enough.”

“My tongue tells me you’re very sensitive along in there — have you ever tried one?” she asked.

“You might have a point,” I admitted. “Fingers can fire me back there every damned time.”

“I think we both know you’d love it, don’t we?”

Our bodies were provocatively rubbing together back in our weekend love nest when Anita showed me her surprise. Made of firm but pliable latex, it looked like a genuine cock and came complete with balls and a harness. I was cet1ainly intrigued. As I stared at it, Anita headed straight for my straining cock. Kissing and licking its hard length, she practically swallowed it in one gulp. When she switched to mouthing my balls one at a time, I reached out to fondle and finger her cunt from behind. She teased me to excruciatingly near the brink, but then she stretched out prone for me to pleasure her with my mouth. Opening her folds with my fingers, 1 licked from one end of her cunt to the other, my tongue flicking over her clitoris.

After licking around the entire area of my ass, Anita forced the cheeks apart and slid a wet finger into the tight crack. I could feel the tip of her nail teasingly spearing the tiny rubber folds of my sphincter until they became slack — she had me almost levitating through the ceiling. “That feels so good-stick your whole arm up deep inside my guts,” I gasped, desperately craving more.

“On your feet, young man,” Anita instructed me. Slipping into spiked heels in order to approximate my own height, she strapped on the dildo while I waited and wondered what to expect. Then I could feel the blunt intruder rooting around, bumping into my crack and massaging my scrotum as it made increasingly firmer strokes and finally penetrated my asshole. My sphincter, unlike those of most of my ladyloves, never even tried to reject the foreign member invading it. And my body began glowing with far more heat than any probing finger could ignite.

Incredible! By this time Anita was flush with my backside, the dildo deep in my guts and her arms wrapped around me, her hands moving on the handle of my hot cock. The fucking motion of the dildo riding in and out of my rear was matched by Anita’s tight strokes up and down my shaft. In no time at all, I gave an unchecked howl of sheer delight, and thick wads of creamy sauce spewed from my shaft and arched through the air to splatter on my feet.

1 finally managed to catch my breath, although Anita was rubbing against me and whimpering for me to fuck her pussy. As soon as it was humanly possible, I slid my rigid length inside her fantastic warmth again. It felt so damned good. I pressed into her as far as I could get, glowing and glorying in her pussy wrapping itself around the whole length of my hardness. Anita squeezed herself against me, her body writhing in a rocking motion and setting off seismic contractions between us that finally triggered another raging and simultaneous climax for us… one that left us satisfied, breathless and exhausted and stacked on top of one another.

The whole exotic episode called for another dip in the cove’s water, where moonlight bathed us while the salty sea cleansed us. And thus we spent most of the weekend: in and out of the water between boudoir scenes in which Anita and her dildo dazzled me with more spectacular sex. Despite Dorothy Parker’s admonishment, women like Anita who wear slacks can always tum their backs on me-anytime and anywhere.