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5,602 | Fevered Fall | "YEEEEEEK!" I cried. I had come home half an hour early from school. I'd come up the driveway humming a happy tune about Tommy the Tugboat, who Told. Tommy told about everything: drugs, strange men in the neighborhood, even parked cars along the curb that didn't look like they "belonged" there. The song went like this:
I'm Tommy, and I Tell!
That's why All is Well!
I patrol the harbor,
Nearer and farther,
And Tell everything I see!
Nothing gets by Me!
Anyway, I came into the house and there was my aunt, being attacked! At least it looked like she was. My boyfriend, Brad, was arched over her. He was completely naked, except for his socks. His pants were tossed over the back of a chair, and he was pounding on her with his hips. His long, thick penis was hammering her repeatedly. He looked like one of those workingmen that you see in the street, operating a drill. With vengeful pneumatic-like strokes, he thrust himself into my aunt's soft, shuddering body. She groaned. She lifted her legs, as if trying to rise, but my boyfriend's thrusting cock kept moving in and out of her, pinning her to the couch. She clawed his back. He swore at her.
There were no kisses. There were no sweet blandishments. They weren't even hugging. Brad was braced by his elbows, his face a little above my aunt's, and his eyes alternately staring at nothing and shut tight. His hips did most of the movement, forward and back, up and down. His ass looked like a tight ball, both cheeks clenched hard. His penis was engorged and dripping with my aunt's intimate juices. Brad worked it remoreselessly between her legs, as if trying to rip out her insides with the long, plunging strokes of his organ.
"Stop! Please! What are you doing?!" I shouted to both of them. Neither responded. It was as if I wasn't there. Brad kept pumping, and my aunt, willingly or not, received his every stroke with new shudders of her body.
I watched as Brad climaxed and delivered his load of sperm deep into my aunt. She shouted, trembled, broke into screams.
Somewhat red-faced, my aunt explained to me afterward what they'd been doing.
"I'm helping him practise, dear," my auntie explained. She sat next to me on the couch where they'd fucked, and I, still in my school clothes, sat between her and my boyfriend. I rubbed Brad's hairy thigh. I eyed his cock. It was much diminished now. Droplets of sperm oozed from its tip, forming a pool on the couch's brocaded surface, but my aunt seemed not to mind. It made me wonder why she was so worried about my water balloons, when she didn't seem to mind at all having boys shoot their jism onto her furniture. Near my hips, the couch was wet from their tryst.
"Why does he need to practise?" I asked my aunt. I reached between Brad's legs and fondled his flaccid penis. It was warm and slick from fucking. It felt strange.
"Because," my aunt said. Her blush became deeper. She was dressed in a robe, but it was open where her legs met. With a flick of her hand, she covered her bush. Then she shifted her hips, and the robe fell open again. I saw sticky stuff gleaming in the lowermost portion of her pubic hair; Brad's sperm. He'd overfilled her cunt, and it was seeping out into her robe and perhaps onto the surface of the couch also. My aunt coughed, tugged at her robe again, then said: "Because, dear, we've been invited to a fuck fest."
"A what?" I asked. Brad's cock grew a little within the inquiring grasp of my fingers.
"It's called a fuck fest, dearest," my aunt said. She reached out and patted my head, stroking my hair. It was the same hand she'd used to pull at her robe, and I squirmed, I didn't want her putting Brad's sperm in my hair.
"Do I have to go?" I asked.
"Only if you want to," my aunt said. She looked at my boyfriend. "Brad and I are going," she said.
"Well then I'm going too!" I declared. "But I don't want to be fucked."
"What are you doing home from school early?" my aunt asked me.
"I brought you a note about it, last week," I said. "Tommy the Tugboat visited us and made a special presentation, about Telling, and so we got out early."
"Oh," my aunt said. She lowered her eyes and pulled again at her robe, finally pulling enough of it across her thighs so that it wouldn't slip off and reveal her nest when she moved her hips again. It was made of the softest, smoothest silk. It was a robe from Japan, like the Geisha girls wear.
"Who's Tommy the Tugboat?" Brad asked me.
"Tommy Tells on everybody," I said. Brad's cock grew bigger. It exceeded the scope of my hand.
"Tell Tommy I'm getting another hard on," Brad said. He glanced past me at my aunt."Or he'll tell you he's going to go use the toilet, and you know what boys sometimes do in there, when they get really desperate."
"I know!" I said. "I saw my cousin Johnnie in the bathroom once, and he was, like, sitting on the toilet to poop, but he was also yanking hard on his dick, even though it was so big it stuck out over the toilet seat, and the head of it was hanging over the floor."
"Yes, dear," my aunt said. "You told me that when you were eight. I haven't forgotten."
"And he's like, 25 too! He shouldn't be spurting all over the floor!" I said.
"So anyway, I want you to be a little bit like Tommy the Tugboat," my aunt explained. "Keep an eye on Brad. And don't let him get away with anything. Don't let him fuck you, don't let him wank himself, don't let him do anything. I want his balls completely full for the fuck fest."
"Alright," I said. I grinned. I liked the idea of supervising my boyfriend.
"Now," my aunt said, with a toss of her long, chestnut-brown hair. "It's important that Brad exercise. He slept late today, so he still needs to swim his laps. Would you please take him out back and see that he does all of them?"
"God, I don't want to swim, I want to fuck," Brad said, turning and looking hopefully at my aunt.
"Brad, I love having a man of the house, but here the woman of the house is above the man of the house," my aunt told him. "I want you to go out back and do your laps while I fix you dinner. Then, after dinner, we'll read sexy stories, by the fire, to keep you thinking about sex so your balls stay inspired to become as full as possible. And I'm going to make us eggnog too, because I read eggnog causes men to produce lots of sperm in their balls."
"Augh!" Brad said. He arched his hips. "That's what I don't need."
"And then," my aunt said, pausing to lick her lips. "Then, Brad dearest, I'm going to put you in my bed and tie you spread-eagled to it, on your back, with your glorious cock sticking up hard and ready all night." My aunt slipped a hand between the folds of her kimono, and rubbed herself where Brad had fucked her.
"What if he needs a drink of water?" I asked my aunt.
"Then you'll get up and get it for him," my aunt told me. "Because you and I, dear Chloe, are going to sleep on either side of Brad, to keep watch over him all night long."
"He'll be as desperate as a tiger by Friday," I confessed to my aunt, turning my head and looking at Brad's penis. It stuck up like a spear, red and throbbing and obviously hungry.
"Yes, that's the point," my aunt said. "He'll be raring to go."
"You girls are terrible," Brad said.
I looked at my bosoms. "Auntie! My top is too small!" I protested. I had on a black bikini swimsuit. Its cups held my nipples, but little else, leaving the roundness of my bosom-cones appealingly naked. I gazed at the whiteness of my breasts, set off starkly against my more deeply tanned tummy and shoulders. How embarrassing for my bosoms to be so revealingly displayed! And the little top only seemed to emphasize my tits, snugly fitting over my nipples but not the rest of my mammaries.
The bottom of the bikini was worse. A small, flat pouch, cut like a slim triangle, lay smoothly over my vulva. The rest of the panty was just a string. It ran round my hips, holding up the triangle of material over my pussy. It connected to a thong in back that split the cheeks of my bottom. My sex was barely contained in the panty. In front, the triangle of material cupped the front of my labia. But the back half of my sex was left exposed. The panty's front pouch gave out, halfway back along my sex, turning into a thong which dipped into the lips of my pussy instead of spreading across the lips and covering them.
I tugged at my panties and tried adjusting them. No luck. They still lay awkwardly upon my sex, both hiding me and, at the same time, separating me. If I wasn't careful the whole panty would wedge itself into my lips and leave me showing my vulva to all who cared to look.
"Auntie!" I cried again. I fussed with my top. "Why is my bikini made of leather, auntie?" I asked. "I can't go swimming in a leather bikini!"
My aunt walked briskly into my bedroom. She wore panties like mine, with a bustier. It was made of leather, and was black, the same color as my bikini. She was lacing up the front of it with her fingers. She wore gloves on her hands; long, opera-length gloves that extended all the way up above her elbows. Her bosoms, not yet contained by the bustier, wobbled freely above its bra cups. Her nipples were hard.
"Darling, don't yell so loud. Your window's open. Do you want the neighbors to hear?" my aunt asked me.
"My swimsuit's too racy," I told her. "And I want gloves, like you have."
My aunt ignored me and went to my closet. She drew a pair of boots from it. They were made of polished leather.
"Here, put these on," my aunt said.
"But auntie, you bought those for me to go riding with!" I said. "On horses."
"I know," my aunt smiled. "But I want you to wear them tonight too. Do you have a ribbon? Tie your hair in a ponytail and put a black ribbon in it, to match your swimsuit."
"This is silly," I said, taking the boots from her. "I look like I'm going riding and to the pool too! And in leather."
"Yes," my aunt said. She turned. "Brad. Brad, darling, does it fit?"
My boyfriend walked into the room. He was nude except for a zippered pouch over his cock. It held him like a stocking, leaving his balls free. The pouch was made of leather, black like the clothes my aunt and I were wearing.
"This is the most ridiculous pair of underpants I've ever put on," Brad said. "They don't even hold my balls. And in back, there's just this damn rope cutting between the cheeks of my ass." He tugged at a leather thong splitting his bottomcheeks.
"Yes," my aunt said. "They're not meant to be practical, dear. They're meant for show."
Brad flexed his arms. His muscles bulged. He looked at me, then in my bedroom mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, admiring himself. His cock stuck out from his body.
"I don't want to wear a collar," Brad said to my aunt's reflection, in my mirror.
"You'll wear that, plus a leash too," my aunt said. "Go into my bedroom. There's one in the top drawer."
"Damn, I look good," Brad said, still staring at himself. He was lean and strong from his daily exercising in our pool. He was tanned all over, except for his buns, where my aunt had insisted he cover himself so his ass would be "nice and white for our party." Now, his bottom uncovered, it stood out starkly white against the trim tanned lines of his thighs and back. "I can't believe you want me to go dressed like this, with my ass showing," Brad said. "Are there going to be other men there?"
"Yes," my aunt said.
"What if some of them are fucking gays?" Brad said.
"Then don't bend over," my aunt smirked.
"Look at me. I look like I'm going swimming, and horse riding too," I told Brad, sitting on the floor and pulling my boots on. He turned. He looked down at me.
"If your aunt weren't standing right here I'd be on you, fucking you so fast, you wouldn't know what hit you," Brad told me frankly.
"Thanks a lot," I said. I sat with my legs splayed, pulling on my boots, and Brad looked between my legs.
"That suit doesn't even cover her little snatch," Brad told my aunt.
"Such a pity," my aunt said, leaning forward as she fitted herself into the bustier.
"It's a disgrace for a girl her age to be outfitted like that," Brad told my aunt.
"Punch me in my tummy, dear. I've got to get this bustier on," my aunt said. Then, seeing Brad seemed eager to do as she wished, my aunt added: "Not too hard!"
I watched as Brad punched my aunt. It forced the breath from her and she yanked hard on the strings of her bustier. It closed over her. She smiled, gasped.
"Thanks," Rebecca told my boyfriend.
"Here, let me pull on those strings for you," Brad said. "I can make your bustier nice and tight for you."
"Not-- too-- tight," my aunt sighed, watching as Brad, his zipped-up cock sticking out in front of him like a spear, tugged on her bustier's ties. My aunt's bosoms, enclosed now within the garment, bulged soft and tempting above the bustier as Brad made it tighter. When Brad had tied off the bustier's strings my aunt's nipples could be seen rising from the top of the bustier, the upper half of each fleshy red disk showing, like twin suns rising. One of her nipples popped free.
"Ooops," my aunt said.
"Here, let me get it," Brad said. He tucked my aunt's nipple back into the bustier as she watched.
"You're full, but when we come home you're going to be empty," I told Brad, gazing up at him from the floor.
"I know," Brad said.
"You're going to spurt your sperm out at the party," I said.
"Brad knows that, dear," my aunt said.
"You're going to make a deposit, like when we go to the bank!" I said.
"I'm going to get some much-needed relief," Brad said.
"I'm not. I don't need any. I'm a girl," I told him.
"You may just watch if you wish, dear," my aunt told me.
"Are you going to get fucked, auntie?" I asked.
Rebecca blushed. "I-- I don't know, dear," my aunt said. "Perhaps I won't care for any of the men. I don't know who will be there." She clapped her hands, as if to silence me. "Let's just enjoy ourselves, okay?" she asked. "After all, it's the weekend!The party was to take place in a hotel downtown. A large suite had been reserved. The use of a suite for such an affair ensured that nobody's own property was involved; if anything went awry, nobody's home was on the line. A person might get sued, but the police could not call their home "a crime scene." I saw the need for this precaution shortly after we arrived.
At the door, we were met by a girl with an elfin face. She was blonde, with lustrous big eyes, taller than me but shorter than my aunt. She opened the door to the hotel suite and stared out at us, her lips soft, her gaze inviting, but perhaps slightly bored. She drew the suite's door inward, letting half her body be seen. She was topless. She seemed not to mind that we had a full, perfect view of one of her breasts, with its rose red nipple standing up perkily at the summit of her breast. In fact, as she regarded us, she tugged lightly on the skimpy bikini panties she wore. She pulled at the front of them, as if her small feminine sex found them too tight. Or perhaps her cunny was too aroused, and wished to be free of her panty.
We were wearing street clothes over our costumes, so they wouldn't be seen.
"Are you here for the party?" the pouty blonde asked. Her liquid eyes scanned us.
"Yes," my aunt replied.
"I'm here for the party too," I told the girl, who seemed to focus herself entirely too much, I thought, on my boyfriend. Brad, in response to the girl's gaze, opened the top button of his shirt, showing his collar.
"Oh," the girl said, looking at Brad. "Please come in." She drew back the door. Rebecca pushed me ahead, I exchanged glances with the blonde and she looked at me with snub-nosed insouciance. I wanted to stick my tongue out at her, but didn't.
"Right over here," the blonde said, closing the door behind us. She pointed to a table. I saw clothes hung on hooks in front of the table. A brunette was standing behind it, smiling. She had on a leopard print teddy. Its plunging V front ran all the way down to her dell. Wisps of her pussy hair showed at the base of her teddy's V. I gazed at her flat, nude belly, at the dimple of her navel. How wicked her teddy was! Her bosoms were tentatively held, the cloth of the teddy covering just the nipples, leaving all the rest to be seen. It was, as Seneca might say, "The sort of garment which revealed no more when it was taken off."
(I read about Seneca for a book report I had to do; he owns all the grape juice at the grocery store.)
I felt jealous, having my boyfriend surrounded by such lovely, scantily-clad women. The redhead behind the table nodded to us and lightly touched a riding crop lying atop the table. My aunt turned. She began unbuttoning my boyfriend's shirt. As she did, the others watched, and the leash connected to my boyfriend's collar, hanging down the front of his chest, inside his shirt, gleamed out at them.
"Oh, he's already been trained," the spoilt blonde who couldn't stop tugging on her panties remarked.
"A little," my aunt said. "You know how guys are. There's always more work to be done."
"Mmmm, I love guys who've been housebroken," the redhead said. She grinned at me.
"He's my boyfriend," I told her.
"You have wonderful taste, dear, but aren't you a little young?" the redhead asked me.
"She's quite mature for her age, aren't you, Chloe?" my aunt asked me. She finished unbuttoning my boyfriend's shirt and pushed it back to reveal his chest.
"Ahhh," both females sighed.
"Ohhh, such big shoulders," the blonde pulling repeatedly at her panties said when my aunt took off my boyfriend's shirt.
"And now for your pants, Brad," my aunt said, kneeling before my boyfriend. She unbuckled his belt. She unsnapped and unzipped his designer trousers. She grinned with delight as she lowered his pants and showed the girls the leather sheath which held his cock.
"Oh, such heavy balls," the blonde remarked, seeing that my boyfriend's testicles hung free of the pouch holding his equipment.
"Isn't he fine?" my aunt asked the two women.
"We must measure him," the redhead said.
"What's that?" I asked the redhead. I pointed to a device sitting atop the table, where she stood. It looked like a miniature gallows.
"It's a guillotine," the redhead giggled. "Every man who comes to the party must put himself within it, so he can be measured, and to prove his bravery. And his obedience."
"What?" Brad asked. Like a woman huntress taking out her rifle, my aunt unzipped the pouch holding Brad's penis. He sprang free, thick and hard and long and very naked.
"Oh, good. He's been circumcised," the redhead said, gazing at my boyfriend's equipment.
"Ooooh, how naked he is," the blonde said.
"Come over here, darling," my aunt said to Brad. "You must show your willingness to obey by sticking your cock into this miniature guillotine."
"Oh, don't cut his thing off!" I cried. The women laughed.
"Every man must be measured before he can go in to the party," the blonde told me.
I watched with horror as, impelling my boyfriend forward with a warm palm on his bottom, my aunt made Brad slide his cock within the framework of the miniature guillotine. It was, I think, something made to chop the ends off of cigars, but now it was being used for my boyfriend's cock.
"It's the largest model, but it's still a close fit," the redhead said, helping my aunt work Brad within the twin posts of the guillotine. I stared raptly at the sharp blade hanging above his cock.
"You must promise to be very good," the blonde, sidling up to Brad, told him.
"Uh, sure," Brad answered. He gaped at his thing within the posts of the guillotine. His dong looked like a sausage at the supermarket, put into a slicer for sandwiches.
"Very, very good," the redhead said. She took a ruler and measured Brad's cock. "Oh, God! Ten and a half inches!" she exclaimed. "What a monster!" She looked at Rebecca. "We can cut him down to size if you like."
"No!" Brad shouted. The women giggled.
"Just kidding, dear," my aunt told Brad. "Take yourself out of there before something happens to you."
"Thank God!" Brad said. Quickly he drew his hips back, retrieving his erection from that awful device.
"Let's undress, Chloe," my aunt told me. "We can hang our clothes on these hooks here."
I looked at the clothes of the other guests, already hung on the walls just inside the suite's door.
"What if somebody takes my clothes?" I asked my aunt. She smiled.
"Then we'll just have to take theirs, dear," she replied. "But keep your bikini on for now."
"I'm keeping my bikini on all night!" I assured her.
"Can I put that, uh, thing back on my dick?" Brad asked, looking at the pouch which had so recently held him, which my aunt now slung up over one of the wall hooks.
"No," Rebecca answered. "Men are to keep themselves vulnerable and displayed at all times. And ready for sex." She grinned. "It's why I didn't let you cum for the last two days, darling."
"He's full!" I told the redhead.
"How remarkable. I'm empty," the redhead answered. She laughed heartily, as did my aunt. I blushed a deep red.
"You have nice panties," the blonde told me as I pushed down my jeans.
"Thanks. So do you," I replied.
"Do you mind if I lick them?" the blonde asked me.
"Huh?" I said.
"I like the taste of leather," she smiled at me. It was a seductive smile. I felt a sudden impulse of feeling for her, like I'd felt toward Miss Fredrickson at the office of Mr. LaCrosse.
"Uh, no," I replied. "I don't need my panties licked."
"Would you like to lick mine?" the blonde asked me. She jutted forth her hips. Her panties were made of black silk.
"No," I said.
"I'll eat them," Brad said.
"Okay," the blonde told my boyfriend with willing eyes. She turned slightly and offered her hips to him.
The redhead lifted the riding crop off the table and reached out and tapped the blonde on her bottom.
"Be good, June," the redhead warned her. She looked at my aunt. "June's job is to make sure all the men stay hard."
"Oh," my aunt said.
We undressed. My aunt and I stripped down to our bikinis and we both blushed as the two women present gazed at us with frank admiration. I looked at a banner hanging above the redhead's head, on the wall behind her. "Lilith's Fuck Fest," it said, in decorative script. It was a small banner, no more than three feet across, but it sent a thrill of wonder through me. I knew Lilith was the name often applied to a woman who was very liberated. If the men, like Brad, were to wear collars and leashes, and the two women who greeted us were so obviously interested in both me and my aunt, as well as Brad, were we going to, like, be doing something together as girls? Sexually? I looked at the blonde tugging at the front of her panties and licked my lips. How sweet and soft she was! How submissive... yet challenging! She caused Brad's penis to stick out very hard and red, standing there fiddling with her panties, offering her hips so salaciously, and at the same time she even got me, a girl, excited! Fortunately Rebecca didn't allow Brad to take June up on her offer of eating her panties, allowing me to keep my jealousy within bounds. How strange to feel jealous toward a girl, and hot for her at the same time!
Clad only in our miniscule bikinis, with Brad completely naked, save for his collar and leash, we were led by June into an adjoining room. I gasped.It was much bigger than the entryway where we'd hung up our clothes. There was exercise equipment scattered around the room, as well as a buffet table with food, a couch, and pillows scattered about the floor. I saw perhaps a dozen people. The men were all naked and exercising. The women wore just a little, enough to tease. They stood around or sat languidly, admiring the men. Some of them snacked on the food that had been provided. Other girls simply watched. Some furtively fingered their dells.
I gazed with wonder at the sight of raw-boned, bare-assed men working out on the exercise equipment. They all had collars around their necks. From the front of each man's collar hung a leash. Despite their bondage, the men acted like men in any weight room, working their bodies, flexing their muscles, despite being attired like dogs. The girls let them run free in the room, not controlling them by their leashes as long as they approved of what they were doing. I looked at the girls' fetching clothes. They were dressed in a way sure to fire any man to perform at his very best. One girl wore a mesh cami, with white school girl panties. Another girl wore a catsuit and a g-string. June led Rebecca and me over to a girl who was topless, with just panties on, and long, black stockings. She looked at us, smiled, and picked up a bottle of baby oil.
"Hi," the topless girl said. "Welcome to the fuck fest."
"I'm not going to Do It," I warned her. She smiled warmly, ignoring my remark. She reached out and with delicate nails pulled open the front of my leather panties.
"Ooook! What are you doing?!" I protested. Aiming for my bush, the girl squirted a long shot of baby oil right into my bikini bottom! "Rebecca!" I cried. My aunt laughed.
"And now you," the girl said, turning from me, letting go of my panties, moving to my aunt. I felt wetness in my bush as the girl opened the front of my aunt's panties. Another long squirt. A sigh from my aunt.
"Auntie! She got my pussy all wet!" I complained.
"Yes, and oily too," my aunt smiled at me. She accepted the baby oil in her panties without protest. When the topless girl was done, she aimed the bottle she held at Brad's cock.
"And now you, sir," the girl said. She fired the baby oil in a long, shooting squirt against the reddened head of his penis. She hit directly against his pee hole. Brad gaped, but said nothing. He watched with eager eyes as the girl proceeded to direct the squirting of the baby oil all along and around the shaft of his dick. When Brad was dripping wet, she stopped.
"Now you must go exercise," my aunt told Brad. She pointed to the exercise equipment scattered around the room. "Go show us your stuff," she said.
Eagerly my boyfriend hit the weights. He exercised with great enthusiasm. What a sight it was to see him working out with a bunch of other young, strong guys! They all were naked and had massive erections. We girls sat and chatted, watching our men work themselves like a half-dozen Hercules, doing their labors in order to win our love. All of them had cocks dripping with baby oil. If a man's penis dried off, a girl would step forward and give him a new squirt. Always it was just his cock that she aimed at, never any other part of him. How erotic it was to see all those penises, oiled and ready for whenever we wanted them!
"Would you spot me?" one big, strong guy asked Brad.
"Sure," Brad answered, as the man slid face-up onto a weightlifting bench. Brad leaned in over the man, his oil-coated dick dripping down into the man's face.
"Sorry about my penis," Brad told the man underneath him.
"Hey, no problem. I'm dripping too," the man said. He did his repetitions on the weight bench. Then they switched places and I watched with fascinated eyes as Brad, lifting hard, let the man's penis drip baby oil and pre-cum into his open, gasping mouth.
"How do I taste?" the man asked Brad, when my boyfriend had finished doing a set.
"A pussy would be much better," Brad replied.
"We'll get plenty of that soon," the man said.
"I hope so," Brad said. "I haven't had anything in two days."
"Shit," the man said. "I haven't cum in a week."
"You must be dying," Brad said.
"Be glad I didn't jism into your mouth," the man said. "I'm bisexual."
"Thanks for the warning," Brad said. "But I'm not."
"I'm anything," June said, stepping up to the men with a bottle of baby oil.
"What? We don't need any more of that. We're already dripping all over each other," Brad protested. Nonetheless, June aimed at each man's cock in turn and liberally doused his member along its whole length with baby oil.
We watched the men exercise some more. They worked like slaves, eager to please us with the sight of their straining, bulging muscles. Each man tried to outdo the other in how much weight he could lift. Sometimes the men cracked gay jokes, or made lewd proposals to each other. I felt a thrill whenever one man, as in a game of football, patted another man on the behind. It was all in good fun, and yet, with them all so hard, I wondered if they might not go down on each other if they didn't have us girls waiting for them.
I gazed about the room. How festive it looked! Streamers hung down from the ceiling. Party decorations were pinned to the walls. And then there were the balloons, long ones, half-inflated, with penis-like tips, because the balloons had each been filled only half full with air. It was all so pleasantly fun and erotic. I tugged at my wet swimsuit. It was only wet where I'd been squirted with baby oil, making me feel like I'd wet it myself, with my own juices. (Which, I had no doubt, I must've done a little of, looking at all the men.)
June sat down next to me and leaned close. "Do you really need this?" she asked.
"What?" I said. Her fingers stole across my bra.
"Ooooh, don't," I said. But she plucked at my nearest bra cup and lifted it, liberating my nipple.
"Your tits are hard," June said to me.
"I know," I answered.
"They look so suckable," June said.
"Don't!" I gasped. June put her small, delicate mouth to my nearest tit and sucked on it tenderly. "Eeeek!" I shouted. The other partiers laughed.
"June likes your niece's nipples," Nadine, the redhead who'd manned the guillotine by the front door, told my aunt. They were sitting together on some pillows on the floor, munching orange scones and drinking tea.
"Yes," my aunt answered. "More tea?" she asked. She picked up a tea kettle off the floor in front of them.
"Thanks," Nadine said. My aunt refilled her cup as I watched, gasping, as June licked at my right nipple.
"Say, has a man ever lost himself in your guillotine?" my aunt asked Nadine. The redhead picked up her refilled teacup and drank from it, sipping slowly.
"No," Nadine answered, in a voice that seemed laced with disappointment. "But there's always the possibility, if he disobeys," Nadine answered.
"How... intriguing," my aunt said.
"Mmmm," Nadine agreed. And, to my utter surprise, my aunt leaned over and pushed aside the V of Nadine's teddy, revealing her bosoms. The woman's tits spilled out. They hung nakedly, freely, in front of her, the nipples hard and tempting. My aunt drew back.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" my aunt said. "I don't know what came over me, except you have such pretty boobs, I couldn't help having a peek." My aunt blushed.
"There's no need to apologize," the redhead smiled. She reached out and began untying my aunt's bustier. It was a slow job. She was tied in tightly and the laces had to be completely undone. My aunt watched, made no protest. I cried out to her again that June was licking my tits, but she seemed not to hear. Instead, she stared down at her own tits, watching as they were slowly freed from her leather bustier. When finally her mounds of flesh were revealed in all their nude glory, Nadine bent forward and began feeding on them.
"Oh, your mouth is like a baby's!" my aunt sighed.
"Mmmm, quiet dear," Nadine said. She slurped at my aunt's bosoms and my aunt bit her lip. I, meanwhile, had suffered the unveiling of both my tits, and June was making me hot by continuing to pay the most delicate, sensuous attention to my twin nipples with her tongue. My tits were covered with saliva from her mouth. I leaned back, I sighed. I couldn't keep her off me, she was so ravenous. Her touch made me feel weak. I reached into my oil-wetted panties and diddled my slit.
The men continued to work out as we girls played with each other. When June had tantalized me completely, it was my turn. I fed at her breasts with a lustiness I'd not known I possessed for another girl. My aunt went farther, actually undressing Nadine completely, letting the same be done to her, and engaging the woman in a 69. Their sighs filled the room, as the men, grunting away, did their best not to shoot at the spectacle of two girls licking each other to orgasm.
Wicked games followed. The men were gathered around a small table. Marbles were placed on the table and we girls supervised them as they played marbles with their dicks. The men used their oiled, erect cocks to knock the marbles into each other. When a marble fell off the table, the man who owned it was given a slash on his buttocks with Nadine's riding crop.
The next game involved a metal basin with champagne in it. The liquor was made as cold as possible, having big chunks of ice floating in it. Plastic rings were dropped into the water. They floated on the surface.Each man had to lean over the tub and attempt to scoop out the rings using his cock. The men complained about the temperature of the water, saying it made their cocks feel as cold as icicles, and the liquor made the skin of their dicks sting. We girls merely laughed.
The last game was for us girls. We paired off. A long plastic mat was rolled out on the floor, going from one end of the room to the other. Two lines of whipped cream were squirted down the length of the mat. We girls greased our bosoms with baby oil. By now we were all naked, and our bosoms gleamed under the party lights as we waited our turn to play the game.
The game involved two girls racing each other from one end of the mat to the other. The first to arrive at the other end was the winner. However, each girl had to lick up the line of whipped cream that had been squirted in front of her, down the entire length of the mat. At the same time, each female had to push a ball down the entire length of the mat using her breasts, as her hands were tied behind her back.
I raced against my aunt. We both crawled down the mat, neck and neck, busily licking up the line of cream. At the same time, using just our breasts, we had to move the ball along. My stiff nipples scraped the mat, which was fortunately made of slick rubber. I lost control of my ball and had to crawl backward to the starting line and begin again. Fortunately, my aunt's ball rolled away and she had to back up and begin again too.
With our bottoms well displayed, my aunt and I were tempting targets for Nadine's riding crop. At first she didn't bother us, but after one minute of 'free time,' our bottoms were fair game. She cracked us across our heinies to inspire us to play more diligently. I howled; my auntie protested, but she and I were both so aroused by our circumstances that we didn't give up trying to beat each other.
The next game involved the basin again. Condoms were inflated by the men, using their mouths, and then tied off and dropped into the basin. We girls had our hands tied behind our backs by the men and were blindfolded. Two by two, we girls had to kneel over the basin and try to pick up as many condoms as we could with our lips and teeth. I managed to get out one more condom than my aunt.
At last we could stand no more, and Nadine ordered us all to lie down. She told us we had been excellent participants at the Lilith Fuck Fest and sprinkled us with honey, to make our bodies adhere more completely when we went into the bedroom next to the main party room and fucked. Then, with even myself willing now, we trooped into the bedroom and humped like rabbits until dawn. | 4 |
5,606 | Kay & Beverly - The Birthday Movie | "I don't know. I just don't know what to get him, Bev." I flopped over another page in my history book. She had come over to stay the night while Mom was away on another business trip.
"What does he like?" she answered.
"Constant sex," I laughed. "That's practically all we do when we're together, anyway," I added jeeringly.
"Oh. Well then, your problem's solved," she said. "Just give it to him," she laughed.
"Very funny. I do. All the time," I said. "It's nice," I smiled.
"I guess," Bev stated, "or you wouldn't do it."
I read another page in my history book, then got up for a drink. I went to the kitchen.
"Want something?" I yelled back across to the Florida room.
"Sex." I laughed. "No," Bev added.
"Get a boyfriend," I yelled.
"Very funny," she yelled back.
"Why not?" I asked when I came back into the room. I sat across from her on the floor at the other side of the coffee table scattered with homework.
"Because I'm not interested in anybody. When somebody I like asks me, I'll do it," she said for the umpteenth time.
It was the same thing she always said when I asked her about going out.
Her stock reply. I shrugged it off and went on to chapter five. Bev kept on at her math. By six o'clock we were getting hungry. I got up and made some spaghetti. She liked it. She said I was a good cook. "You'll make a fine wife some day," she chided.
"Mmm hmm. And a fine vet, too, I hope," I added seriously.
"You're so sure that's what you want to do, huh?"
"I guess I always have been," I said.
"Why don't you buy Jerry a dog for his birthday?" Bev said.
"Because he hates dogs," I said flatly.
"Why?"
"I don't know. He doesn't know, either. Just doesn't like them. Says they're too fawny, too mushy. Which is weird 'cause he's so mushy and romantic."
"Is he? I never would have thought it. He looks like the cerebral type."
"Oh, he is. He's so smart it's disgusting. He never studies much. Just knows it somehow. But he reads a lot, I guess."
"So what are you going to get him, then?" Bev said.
"I don't know," I said exasperatedly.
Bev picked up the TV guide. "What's on TV tonight? Anything good?"
That was all I needed. The idea came to me.
"I've got it!" I half shouted. "I think," I hesitated. I didn't know how to do it.
"What is it? Tell me," Bev said.
"Well, I might need your help," I said. "And I've got to think about it. I'm not sure," I giggled.
"What is it?" Bev wanted to know.
I was reluctant to say. I just smiled.
"Oh come on. Tell me. Or is it something you can't say in public? Some weird sex thing?" she laughed.
"Well, not TOO weird," I said.
"Oh god. Forget it then," Bev said and started to reach for the channel changer.
"But I do need your help," I volunteered.
"With what?" Bev laughed.
I thought about it again. Enough seconds went by that Bev became curious.
"So. What with?" she repeated.
"I'll show you," I said. "But you've got to promise not to tell anyone. Promise. *Not a soul!*" I said. I waited till she nodded in agreement, then disappeared into my bedroom."In some of the other kinds of films, they put the camera right next to things," I said.
"You don't happen to have one of those around, do you?" Bev said. "I'd like to see what it's like. For the camera, of course," she added.
"Of course," I laughed at her.
"Oh, stop it. Just go get the damn thing, would you?" she said. "And I don't believe you have one! You guys are really kinky!" she laughed.
I hesitated and was going to tell her I didn't have one. But I thought it through and didn't see any reason why she couldn't know I had one. So I went and got it. When I came back and was putting the tape in, Beverly asked me something that really flustered me.
"Does this have any lesbian stuff in it?" she asked in a normal voice. "I don't know. Jerry and I haven't seen this one yet. He just got it the other day," I said. "You were only supposed to be interested in it for the camera stuff," I said. "I've never seen one before."
"Oh. Well, you'd better be prepared for more than the other one, then. It's pretty raunchy stuff sometimes. Even I don't like some of it. But it's different watching it with Jerry, too."
"I suppose so," Bev agreed.
The movie got into it fairly quickly. Bev didn't say much. I hadn't seen it before and so was just watching the movie. But I could tell Bev was also looking at the camera work, too, from her hand motions and expressions. Not that she didn't see what was happening on the screen, though. There were times when I could see she was just as interested in the scenes where there were close-up pictures of the men. She would interject once in a while.
"Nice buns," or, "God, he's big."
There were plenty of real close-up scenes.
"The other one didn't have anything like this," Bev remarked. "Do you want me to get that close?"
"How should I know? Just do whatever seems right," I said. I started thinking about what I was going to wear and didn't pay much attention to the movie for a while. When I looked up again, there were two girls making love. I looked at Bev and she was very attentive to what was happening on the screen. And not to the camera movements. I thought about her for a minute. She never seemed to date very much and I wondered if she was gay. I wondered if she thought she was, or didn't know if she was, and how hard that would be to deal with. The next scene was heterosexual again, and the rest of the movie was too, till the end, when there were two couples together and the girls were kissing and touching each other as well.
"Pretty lousy plot," I said.
"Kay the critic," Bev said, and nothing else. "So what do you think I should do?" I said.
"Hmm. Oh. Go ahead and do it. It's not that bad, really. You've got the nerve to do that much if you can stand to watch these things. Only don't go putting on a dress right away. I don't think it's necessary."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I just don't think it's very realistic, that's all. Nobody gets dressed up all the time to have sex. You guys don't do you?" Bev said.
"No. Whatever I wear to every day to school," I said.
"Then wear that. What you've got on right now."
"You mean you think it'd be sexier if I was dressed in jeans, like I usually am?" I said.
"Sure. That's what he's used to seeing you take off, isn't it? Well, take it off in front of the camera for him. Ooh, that sounds sexy, doesn't it?" Bev said. "You'd better try it right now."
I hesitated. "You mean now?" I gulped.
Bev was getting the camera ready. She walked around shutting the drapes and turning on the lamps to their lowest settings. "Almost ready," she said, checking the camera. "You sit on the couch. Is that where you guys usually sit?" she asked directorially.
"Most times," I told her, taking her direction and moving to the couch. She was picking things up that didn't belong laying around. She kept talking. "So what do you do on the couch? Kiss?"
I thought about it, trying to remember Jerry there with me. "Yes," I said, feeling a little turned on by the darkened room.
"Does he touch you?" Bev said.
I didn't reply.
"Put your hand where he touches you," she ordered.
I lifted my hand limply to my chest, waiting for my next order. "You talk," Bev said, and she turned on the camera. I froze. She waited for a response, some motion from me.
"You do move, don't you?" she laughed. It broke the ice a little.
"Yes," I replied loudly. "This isn't exactly easy to do, you know," I told her.
"It's only a two-hour tape, you know," she smacked.
I cracked. Laughed for ten seconds.
"Enough. Let's see some action. You kiss, you talk, he puts his arms around you and you make out for a long time. Your body is warm by his and you start to feel good. He wants your shirt open. Open it for him."
I listened to her. I lifted my hands up again to my shirt and unbuttoned it, imagining Jerry watching me. I smiled at him and undid the three top buttons and pulled my shirt open for him. I moved my fingers along the outside of my bra just as I had seen the girl in the movie do. I forgot about the camera for a moment, but not about Jerry. I touched myself. I uncovered my breast and toyed with it. Then I remembered the camera and realized Bev was taking pictures. I looked at her and she shook her head minutely, indicating that she could no longer talk. I understood.
But she could take pictures with one hand and leave the other one free. She moved her hand up to her shoulder and made motions indicating that I should take the strap off my shoulder. I did and immediately looked back to her for direction again. But her hand had returned to steady the camera. I realized how stupid I must look looking at the camera like that and remembered the girl in the movie doing it too. I almost stopped right there, but Bev put her hand down by the lowest buttons in her shirt and I got the idea. I undid the other buttons in my own shirt and put the shirt off to the sides of my body. I pulled the shirt away from my other shoulder a little and lifted the strap down my arm. I pulled my arm out of it completely, then returned my hands to my front. I held the top of the bra cup where it met the straps and slowly pulled them down, exposing my breasts to full view. Then my hands went to them and I touched them. I tried hard to think of just Jerry, but I could see the camera, too, and began to play to it.
Who was watching me? Would someone see this? What if I showed it to someone else? Some strange man? I'd let him watch me. That fantasy man hid behind the camera and it wasn't Jerry at all. I made up someone so handsome and perfect that it could only be a fantasy. I stripped for him. Touched myself for him. Closed my eyes and rubbed my breasts and my sides longingly for perfect him. Then I came back to reality when the camera moved to a new position. Bev came closer. She knelt on one knee and I could see she was taking closer shots of me. My face, my neck, my chest. I let her. She moved slowly. Then I put my fingers to my nipples and touched them. Beverly shot me, turning me on. I thought of Jerry again and how he played with my nipples. I wished Beverly would take a picture of my face so I could show him I was thinking of him. It was then I realized that I could speak. Beverly couldn't, but I could.
Nonetheless, it shocked Beverly when I did.
"Do you like the way I touch my nipples?" I said quietly.
To my surprise, Beverly nodded yes gently. But her hand came free and made a little rolling motion to indicate I should keep talking.
"I like the way you touch them," I continued.
I circled them lightly with my fingertips.
"They're soft for you. Silky, you like to say."
I played with them silently for a while. Then my hands strayed down my stomach and my sides.
Beverly had to pull the camera back. I arched my back and undid my bra. I pulled it off and threw it to the chair next to the couch. Beverly settled down on her haunches in front of me, still shooting.
I lay back into the couch, slouching down a little. Beverly jerked her finger up, telling me to sit up straight, I looked bad. I straightened up slowly so as not to seem too contrived or directed. Beverly put her hand under her breast and lifted it, massaging it. I got the idea.
I did the same, recalling the movie again. I seemed to be going from reality to movie to fantasy like stepping stones. My nipples became stiffer and I tugged at them to emphasize the fact. I looked down and they protruded nicely towards the camera. I saw Jerry there watching them in my imagination and played with them some more for him, but did not speak to him. Instead, I just touched and caressed myself as he would have had he been there. My hands floated about my arms and shoulders and chest and stomach. Could I have touched my back more I would have felt better. Warmer as I was when he held me. I longed for him a little. I held my breasts because I wanted to and stiffened the nipples in my fingers. I felt I was masturbating for him for the first time. I wanted him to watch me and I put my hands down to my stomach, pressing my fingers into it above the waist of my jeans.
I thought about how I'd done it for him once, how he'd asked me to do it. How I'd undone my jeans and lay right there on the same couch and opened my jeans. He pulled my jeans and panties down my legs and did nothing else. He waited for me to start to touch myself. He watched me as I played with my pussy. I'd never felt more excited till then. I felt, remembered my wet fingers, myself wet with my pants at my thighs and realized I had done it. I was masturbating in front of the camera. The memories and the reality had blended and I was undressed slightly there. I came to, seeing the camera close to my knees where my jeans and underwear were gathered. The eye was right there, staring at me. Between my legs.Beverly reached out with her hand and pulled at my jeans. She removed them from my legs with her free hand, balancing the camera steadily on her shoulder with her other hand. Her head was focused on taking pictures.
When my pants came off completely, I felt naked. I felt exposed for the first time. I tried hurriedly to go back to my fantasy, but I couldn't. I had to play with myself in front of the camera while Beverly watched. I had moved my legs further apart and let her zoom the camera in. I knew she did it because I saw her. I tried to picture what it looked like. What it looked like to her. I wondered if she was enjoying taking pictures of me. She seemed completely engaged in it, unaware of the subject matter other than it was sex. I tried to please her. I did it for her for a while. She wouldn't know. It was my fantasy. I imagined her watching me through the lens. I pictured her seeing my fingers touching myself. I rubbed my clitoris directly and saw the camera zoom a little more. I was pleased and spread the lips of my pussy apart so the camera would get a better view. I moved the pubic hairs to the side and exposed my clit, looking down at it to get a good view myself so I could see how it looked, how much was exposed. I tugged gently at the hood and showed it. I teased it and it felt suddenly good. I looked up at Beverly and the camera. They were trained on my genitals. I decided to talk to her.
"Do you like the way I play with it?" I asked her without saying her name. She did not respond, thinking that I was talking to Jerry. I tried to think of what to say next that she would know was meant for her, that would draw her attention.
"Can you see it well enough?" I said.
Beverly lifted her head and put her fingers to her lips to shush me momentarily. She turned the camera in her hand. I could tell she had stopped recording momentarily. She fiddled with the buttons and then crept closer to my legs. She hunched back down and adjusted the camera again. Then without lifting her eyes away from the viewer, she gave me a signal to continue. It felt and looked strange to have her there between my legs giving directions. But there was nothing for it but for me to try to continue where I had left off.
I tried to think of Jerry again. I closed my eyes and pictured myself undoing his pants. I pulled his cock out and massaged it gently in my hands. It grew stiffer, yet remained soft. I put my fingers back to my clit and massaged it in circles. It was dry again. I pictured holding Jerry's cock and guiding it into my pussy. It slid in. He began to fuck me. I put my hands between my legs and spread them apart. My fingers went down. They slid inside and I pulled them back up to wet my clitoris. I held the hood back with one hand and rubbed it with the other. I put my fingers down again, back inside, worked them in and out several times. That was enough.
I quickly rubbed my clit to orgasm. I came and wondered what the camera saw. What did Beverly see of me. It was a minute or two before I calmed down. I began to feel cold and exposed. I reached for my pants and Beverly stood up with the camera, arching her back in pain. I started to get dressed, then realized it was silly to put on the bra and shirt again, so I picked them up and headed off to my room to get on some pajamas.
I got back out and Beverly was watching the tape. I came in near the end. It was weird. I was glad when it finished.
"That was awful," I said, before realizing it could be construed as a commentary on the camera work.
Beverly just ignored me. She knew what I meant. "Here," she said, handing me the remote control, "Watch it from the beginning and tell me what you think. I'm gonna go get dressed."
She got up and left. I rewound the tape and was going to start it over but decided to wait for Beverly.
"Ready?" I said when she'd come back into the room.
"Ready. Go ahead," she replied.
I started the tape.
"It's not that bad, really. But then I was behind the camera," Beverly said. "I'm sure Jerry will enjoy it."
I thought about that, and viewed it with that in mind. It wasn't so bad from that perspective. I knew he would like it. I relaxed and watched it from the camera's angle. Beverly had actually done a pretty good job. She didn't zoom around too much and was real steady holding the camera.
"You did a great job, thanks," I thanked her.
"No problem. It was interesting," she said.
"Was it?" I said.
"Yeah."
"What was it like?" I asked.
"Strange. I couldn't help getting into it. It's kinda like you're being pulled," she said.
The tape ended. We just sat there.
"Do you want to try it?" Bev said.
"You mean use the camera?" I said.
Beverly nodded. "I'd let you if you wanted to try it. Only fair," she said.
"Ok," I said. I was nervous. I got up and looked around for the camera.
"On the end table," Beverly pointed.
"Oh." I went to get it.
"You didn't say much. It was a shock when you did. But it came out nicer than I thought, not saying too much. Remember to hold it steady and don't zoom too much at all. It looks really strange when you do."
"You want me to give this tape to Jerry too?" I asked half seriously.
"I'm sure!" Beverly said. "You do and you won't live to see the day."
"He'd really like that, I bet, having the two of us on the same tape," I chided, getting the camera ready.
"I'll bet. Don't you dare," Bev scorned.
"Then why do you want to do this?" I asked seriously. Beverly looked at me and knew I meant the question.
"Because it's exciting," she said, and flopped down on the couch. "And I can do it better than you can," she jeered.
"Oh really!" I said, flabbergasted. "Let's see."
"Hi Jerry. It's me, Beverly. I'm going to do what Kay just did. Do you want to watch me? Good. Sit down right where I'm sitting now and I'll undress myself just for you." Beverly pointed at the camera. I was almost laughing at her, it sounded so funny. I knew she didn't mean a word of it. It was all for my benefit.
She really surprised me when she opened her pajama shirt and there was nothing there. I don't know why I was expecting there to be. I didn't wear a bra under my pajamas either. Maybe it was just seeing her breasts exposed to plain view like that. Then I realized it was the camera. Somehow the camera did something to seeing things. I was looking at her as if she were already on tape and that excited me. I knew right away what she'd meant by feeling pulled into things. It was as if I were on the outside looking in and shouldn't be. I was too close. I wondered what it would be like to be closer. I zoomed in before remembering her instructions.
"Damn!" I said to myself.
Beverly broke up. I laughed at myself.
"All right. All right. Do it again. Take two," I said.
"No no. That's enough," Beverly laughed.
"Oh no. You got to do it, so do I," I said, and motioned my hand to keep rolling. "We'll just edit that part out," I commented.
"You can do that?" Beverly said.
"Shush," I scolded. "Action!"
Beverly tried to stop laughing. I kept the camera going. Eventually she got it together.
She tried twice and laughed both times.
"I can't do this," she said.
"Think about Jerry. He's going to watch you, Beverly. I'm going to let him see this. I want him to see you doing it," I said, trying to spur her on. She reacted as I expected. She got serious. I knew she could do it. I could tell she had been turned on thinking about my boyfriend watching her. She looked at the camera as if trying to see Jerry there. She stood up. She used her hands gracefully along the length of her body with her pajama top open. She pulled back at it and let it slide off to the floor.
"Damn that was a good move!" I thought to myself. Maybe she was going to do it better than I was.
She certainly would if she kept up like that.
And she did. She pulled me around with her expressions and made me know just where she wanted the camera to be. It was amazing. I watched her hold her breasts out to me and I zoomed in slowly to them. It was so close I could almost feel them. I wanted to touch them, to feel their softness through the lens. She made a slow turn and I photographed it. I watched through the camera as she endeared herself.
She caressed her body sexily and lazily like a model. She enwrapped her body in her arms. I felt flowing, unaware of the camera. She moved her hands to her hips and lowered the pajama bottoms a few inches. They clung to her hips in a sexually inviting fashion. She moved her hips around circularly and slowly, then drew the pants down over the peak of her hips so that they fell to the floor. She had drawn me down with her and I was taking pictures of her pelvic area. Her hands went quickly to it and caressed it, hiding it a little from view. She parted what hair she could and invited me to zoom in on what was there. I did so, and she backed up slowly to the couch again. She lay down and I pulled back, almost out of breath. Her hands reached forward to the camera as if she were reaching out to hold someone's face.
She spoke.
"Come watch me closer now," she demanded softly.
I knelt beside the couch and took a long slow shot of her face, neck, breasts and stomach. She slid one leg off the edge of the couch and moved slowly around it till I was facing her. She moved her hands down and caressed her thighs invitingly, motioning the camera to come closer to her. I followed her hand upwards and when I saw her parting the hairs around herself, I became excited. I nearly froze in place. Which was alright since there was not much else I could do with the camera but hold it steady.
And I even had trouble doing that as I watched her at extreme close up, exposing and playing with herself for my boyfriend.I really wanted him to see this. She was good. I was surprised when her fingers left her clit and wandered downwards. I had to shift the camera a little. I watched with fascination as her fingers entered her opening and dove back in again. This repeated until I could tell she began to need release. I moved my free hand in front of the camera and before I realized, I was reaching to touch her.
She did not see me. Her eyes were closed. I withdrew my hand. Her own hand went there a second later and did what was needed. She came, and I withdrew the camera a little to a safer distance. I captured her orgasm and was silent.
I watched as she sat up. She looked around for her clothes but didn't reach for them. She sat quietly for another minute. I took the tape out and brought it to the VCR. I went back to the couch and sat next to her. She took my hand in hers and held it in her lap. She rubbed it as we watched her masturbate. When it came to the final part, she placed my hand flat on her thigh, holding it there. I moved my hand along her leg and caressed it. As I watched her touching herself on screen, I moved my hand closer to the center of her legs. She reached for it and placed it atop her mound. I moved my hand down between and touched her with my fingers. I masturbated her as it happened on the screen. She was wet, and my fingers slid along her clitoris easily. I played with her until she orgasmed, and her hands fell atop mine, pressing them into herself. It ended on screen, and I began to touch her again. She held my hands in place, letting me know she wanted me to stop. I looked over at her. She was rewinding the tape. When it started from the beginning, it was of me again. I hadn't seen it in a short time and was surprised at myself being there.
As I watched, I felt Beverly's hands touching my folded legs. I looked over at her, and she smiled, inviting me with a gesture to lay back against her. I untucked my legs from underneath me and stretched them out along the couch. She put her legs up on the couch and made a small place in her lap for me. I was half seated there. Beverly pointed to the screen, and I watched. I was taking my clothes off. Beverly's hand was opening my pajama buttons. They slipped inside. I was undoing my jeans. Beverly's hands moved under. As I found my mound, so did she. Her agile fingers pressed into me. She held me as I watched. When I came, I came. Beverly neatly touched me under my pants until I relaxed. Her scene came on again. I watched her turns and motions and finally her assault on herself. Her breasts were above me, and I gathered them in my hands. Beverly put her arms around me, and I felt warm. I turned my head and sucked on her nipple gently. It hardened, and I toyed with it a little. Beverly smiled down at me. I liked it. I teased her nipple more and then found the other one in nearly the same state. She watched as I sucked it gently.
I kissed her stomach because that was all I could reach. She adjusted a little, pulling her leg up under me and moving more towards the end of the couch. I turned my body at the same time and found myself facing the inner part of her thigh. I put my hand up against it and pushed myself lower down, feeling her other leg give way. I pushed her leg back up against the back of the couch and started kissing the inside of it just above her knee. I kissed the inside of her thighs all the way down until I reached between her legs. I lifted myself up a little and put my hand underneath her bottom. I kissed in the seam of her leg and mound and parted the hairs around her with my hand. When she was exposed, I kissed her.
She tasted sweet and wet. I licked at her clitoris with my tongue until all the wetness was mine. She was moaning lightly as I took care of her. I let my tongue wander all around her, dipping to her opening and then putting my fingers in her. They slid in easily, and I sucked and licked at her clitoris at the same time. She reacted by lifting up and down, making me know it felt very good. I was glad it did and that I could make her feel that way. I kept it up until she came. I sucked her so hard and so right at the last second that she screamed. I slowed down my fingers, but kept evenly sucking her clit. She bucked and came again, so I licked her up and down and withdrew my hand from inside her. I put both hands under her bottom and squeezed it. She lifted up, and I put my tongue inside of her. It was swelteringly wet and tasted awfully good. I lapped at her opening, and she pushed into my tongue. I left her clitoris alone for quite a while, but soon enough my fingers touched it and found it. I teased her to a final come and licked slowly at her until she subsided. I kissed her thighs lingeringly. She had her hand rubbing my back.
"Umm, that feels good. Scratch a little, would you?" I asked.
She did.
"I gotta move this leg," she said quietly.
I got off of it as she pulled it in towards the other one. I sort of half fell, half sat off the couch. I pulled myself up on my knees and leaned over her head. I kissed her. She responded quietly and nicely, kissing me back and putting her hands up behind my head to hold me there kissing her. When she released me, I looked at her.
"You wanted to do that for a long time, didn't you?" I said.
Beverly nodded her head. "Did you know?" she said.
"Not till now," I told her.
"And there's something else I've wanted to do for a long time, too," she said.
"What's that?" I asked.
She smiled and pushed herself slowly and agonizingly up on the couch.
"Lay down, and I'll show you," she said.
It was my turn to be delighted. Beverly ate me expertly. Her gentle feminine touches were most welcome. I came many times, and we spent the night in bed together. We made love in the morning before Jerry came over. He saw more than just our home-made videos. | 5 |
5,647 | Girls Loving Girls Part 2 | "Hi Lisa." Brenda held the door open. The petite seventh grader smiled and walked in, a small gym bag hung from her right hand.
"You guys are really great to let me come over," Lisa said as she stood in the foyer and looked around.
I could see her from the living room. She was dressed in short denim cutoffs and a Nike pullover. Her long blond hair was tied in a ponytail and she wore white tennis shoes, no socks. Her legs were long, firm, and starting to take shape; the two little mounds on her chest were developing nicely. Brenda was right, she did have a cute ass and it definitely filled out her snug shorts. My pussy tingled at the thought of licking it.
"Come on in, Lisa," I called. She walked into the living room, sat her bag down, and plopped down on the couch beside me. "You hungry?" I asked.
"No thanks, Karen, I ate just before I came over." Then she turned and looked at the TV. "What are you watching?" she asked with a startled expression.
I had one of my dad's X-rated videotapes playing in the VCR, the ones he and mom kept hidden and didn't think we knew about. I had located a hot scene just as Lisa arrived.
"Oh, this," I said nonchalantly. "We rented a couple of movies for tonight. You like adult films?"
As Lisa stared at the screen, two girls and a guy had just undressed each other. "Yeah, I guess," Lisa said, transfixed on the images. One girl knelt in front of the guy and put his dick in her mouth while the other girl crawled under her friend and ate her.
Brenda came over and sat on the other side of Lisa. "This movie is guaranteed to get you wet," she said.
"Yeah?" was all Lisa said, sinking back into the couch and slipped her shoes off.
"You don't mind if I turn the lights down, do you, Lisa?" I asked.
"No," she said, never taking her eyes off the sex on the TV screen.
As the movie continued, the scene got hotter: the two girls were doing each other in a sixty-nine while the guy screwed the one on top from behind. The girl on the bottom licked her friend's cunt and the guy's balls at the same time.
It didn't take more than a few minutes before I saw Lisa move her hand down between her legs. I tried not to let her know I was watching but this was definitely promising. The hotter the movie made her the better our chances of getting her out of those little tight shorts.Then she said that if I wanted, I could lick the real thing. We kissed passionately and she ran her hand down between my legs. The other girls were going crazy watching us; the last of their panties flew off.
Brenda went and turned out the lights, and the next thing I knew there were naked girls everywhere. I had never heard so much slurping and sucking and moaning in my life. In the dark, it didn't matter who was with who; it was a pussy-eating frenzy. My little redhead was so turned on, the first time I touched her clitoris, she screamed and climaxed. I remember at one point having two girls sucking my nipples, one eating me, and one sitting on my face. It was so much fun showing them how to please each other. The best part was when we all formed a daisy chain circle and everyone "ate at the Y".
Eventually, we paired off and found an empty bunk. I lost count of how many times I came that night because the girl I slept with was having the first orgasms of her life and she was insatiable; we fucked for hours. When she finally fell asleep, I laid there for a long time with her in my arms listening to the erotic sounds of the other girls making sweet lesbian love.
The next morning, I awoke from a wonderful wet dream to find my little redhead back in my bed. She had her warm mouth on my breast and a finger in my pussy. I pulled her mouth to mine and she tasted delicious. She said good morning and asked if I was hungry. I told her I was starving and she giggled saying she had something for me to eat.
Then she got up on her knees, straddled my face and lowered her adorable little pussy down on my mouth. Soon, her cries woke up all the others, and it didn't take long before the sounds of girls loving girls filled the cabin. Finally, when everyone had climaxed one last time, we got up and came together in the middle of the cabin. At some point during the night, we had all made love to one another. Now we lovingly pressed our naked bodies together kissing and hugging; lovers forever. The girls would be going home that day so we promised that next summer we would have a reunion.
My little redheaded still calls me once or twice a month to talk about the night we made love. We always wind up masturbating together on the phone.
Thinking about how much fun I had with all that fresh girl-candy made my pussy ache as I sat next to Lisa and watched the porn flick. I was really turned on, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lisa rubbing herself.
"This is making me so hot," Brenda said and stood up. We wore only T-shirts and panties and Brenda pulled her shirt over her head. She slipped her panties down and slid them off purposefully bending over so Lisa got a full view of her ass and delicious slit peeking between her legs. Her nipples stood out like pencil erasers as she sat back down, this time right next to Lisa. God, she played dirty, I thought with a smile.
"What are you doing?" Lisa said. Her voice was more puzzled than alarmed as she looked at the naked girl beside her.
"I don't know about you," Brenda said, "but I'm so fucking horny." She started caressing her breasts and rolling her nipples between her fingers. "Does this bother you?" she asked Lisa. "If it does, I can go in the bedroom and get myself off."
"Well, no, I guess not." Lisa was not attempting to hide the fact that she was rubbing herself now, and Brenda's beautiful, naked body so close to her only seemed to add to her arousal.
"I think you've got the right idea, Brenda," I said and pulled my shirt off. Without standing up, I slipped my panties under my ass and down my legs. Then I tossed them at Brenda who held the crotch up to her nose. "Smells like somebody wants to fuck," she said and playfully tossed them back at me.
"Are you guys always this . . ."
"Horny?" Brenda said.
"Definitely." I added.
"Sometimes we get so turned on," Brenda said, "we do each other."
Lisa's eyes grew wide as she looked back and forth at our naked bodies. The timing was perfect as the movie changed to a girl-girl love scene. It was obvious I had picked the right tape; there were two beautiful, young girls French kissing. Lisa watched intently as they got into a sixty-nine and went down on each other.
"Don't you just love having your pussy eaten like that?" I said as I looked at Lisa.
"I've never . . .," she said softly.
Her little body must be on fire by now, I thought. Her hands were between her legs, her fingers fighting their way under the edge of her shorts.
Brenda leaned over and whispered in Lisa's ear, "That'll be a lot more fun if you take your pants off."
Without hesitating, Lisa wiggled out of her shorts and panties, and pulled her shirt over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts, the size of ripe plums, looked delicious. When her fingers went back to work, I looked down at the most beautiful little hairless pussy. Lisa's fingers moved in and out, her head back slightly, her breathing heavy. The sight made me light-headed.
Brenda winked at me and I knew what she was thinking. In less than ten minutes we had managed to get Lisa to take her clothes off and masturbate in front of us. This was too easy.
Phase two of our seduction of Lisa was about to begin. So far, it had been each of us doing our own thing. Now it was time for group involvement.
When the movie ended, I stood up. "I feel like dancing," I said and went over to the CD player. I put on a grinding rock song and moved back in front of the two naked girls. As the song started, I did my best slut dance; a lot of bending over and squatting down so Lisa could see what was between my legs. She stared at my crotch as I ran my hands up and down my body. Then I reached out and said, "Lisa, come dance with me."
She gave Brenda a hesitant look and then turned back to me, not sure what to do.
Brenda ran her hand up the inside of Lisa's thigh lightly touching her pussy and whispered in her ear, "Let's see how wet you two can make me."
I danced over and took Lisa by the hand. Pulling her off the couch, I brought her to the middle of the room and started dancing beside her. She caught on quickly and it was obvious she had a little slut in her too. Soon she was rubbing up against me, teasing me with her ass and sliding her hands seductively over her body and down between her legs. I could tell Brenda was thoroughly enjoying our little game. Lisa was definitely aroused; I could smell her pussy and it drove me crazy.
The song ended and a slow song started. Lisa took a step toward the couch as if she was going to sit down when I grabbed her hand and pulled her back. "Want to drive Brenda crazy?" I said. "Let see how sexy we can slow dance together." I turned her around so she faced my sister and pushed my crotch against her ass, pressing my tits into her back. Moving my pelvis in a slow, sexy motion, I placed my hands on her hips and guided her in sync with me. Lisa quickly followed my lead and we moved over to dance just a few feet in front of Brenda. My sister already had her legs spread and was masturbating, her eyes glued to the spot between Lisa's legs.
The music was perfect: slow and steamy. I felt Lisa reach behind and start rubbing my hips and thighs. She slid one hand down between my legs and played with my bush while she used her other to stroke herself. Then she closed her eyes and let her head drift back to rest on my shoulder. I kissed her neck and ear, whispering how fantastic her body felt against me. "Do you like it too?" I asked.
"I love it," she answered, never opening her eyes.
Her finger found my slit and I trembled at her touch. I lightly pulled her chin around and our lips met. I slid my tongue into her mouth. She tasted so sweet!
We kissed as I felt her finger slide easily into my wet hole. Then Lisa let out a heavy moan. I looked down to see Brenda on her knees, her head buried in the little girl's crotch. My hands went up and cupped Lisa's breasts and I closed my mouth over hers exploring the inside with my tongue. It was all I could do to keep from falling, I was so aroused.
Finally, I led her to the couch and laid on my back pulling her down on me. She kissed me passionately, her tongue in my mouth. I pulled her knees up spreading her open for my sister. Brenda lay between my legs and sank her face into Lisa's ass while she fingered me. I ran my hands all over Lisa's body, trying to taste and touch as much of her as I could.
I was dying to eat her but I let Brenda have the first taste. I could tell from their moans that both girls were really getting off.
Lisa's hips ground into me and her breathing became heavy. Suddenly she let out a gasp and her body stiffened. I continued kissing her face and neck as the orgasm washed over her. She lay on me, breathless, covered in sweat, her eyes closed.
"God, I never felt anything like that before," she said after a few moments.
"Just the first of many, my sweet little lover," I whispered to her.
Brenda moved up and lay beside us, kissing me then Lisa. Our mouths were close and the three of us kissed together. I could taste Lisa's juice on my sister's mouth; it was intoxicating. I had to have Lisa or I was going to explode.
"Trade places, sweetheart," I said to her. She moved over and let me up. As I worked my way down the couch, Brenda got up on her knees and straddled Lisa's face. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Brenda's legs, pulling my sister down to her eager mouth. At the same time, I lay between Lisa's legs and spread her little-girl cunt open with my fingers. Then I put my hands under her ass, pushed her legs up and brought my mouth down on her. The sensation of tasting this delicious twelve-year-old was almost more than I could take.I ran my tongue up and down her slit, trying to taste her pussy and lick her ass all at once. I raised up to see Brenda, her head thrown back, eyes closed, her fingers caressing her nipples in a deep sexual trance as Lisa moved her tongue in and out of my sister. Lisa was totally ours now, her body completely overcome with the forbidden pleasures of girl sex.
We climaxed together and finally lay back on the couch. Our bodies were covered in sweat, our faces and cunts dripping with girl-cum. The room was filled with the smell of wet pussies.
After resting for a few minutes, Brenda said, "I'm going for a hot shower. Want to join me?"
"Sounds nice," Lisa said.
We each took her by the hand and headed up the stairs. | 4 |
5,754 | Peeler RP: HypnoWho | "Mmmm, Alec, I've been looking forward to this," Nicole whispered as her boss's hands encircled her body and gripped her breasts tightly through her blouse. She could feel his hardness press against the top of her ass as he stood behind her in the hotel room.
She had no idea this was going to happen until he had led her to the elevator after lunch. He must have gotten the room key when he excused himself before lunch began. She liked the way he had planned things and taken control.
"Open your eyes, Nicole. Look at yourself in the mirror," Thornton commanded his secretary-lover. He'd led her in front of a full-length mirror after entering the hotel room.
He saw her look at the two of them in the mirror, and he began to unbutton her blouse. She leaned back against him and ran her hands up and down the sides of his legs as he slowly opened the buttons down her front. He pulled her blouse out of her skirt and finished the last button. His hands moved up the parted blouse to just below her neck, and he pulled the blouse slowly, completely off and then moved his body back against her.
Nicole admired herself in the mirror as Alec pulled her blouse off, and she could see that she'd worn a sheer see-through black bra, and her hard nipples were clearly visible to her and her wonderful employer.
She could see Alec's eyes in the mirror as they drank in her body. Nicole's pussy began to tingle as she thought of how Alec would react to her other club lingerie. It began to tingle stronger as Alec's hands gripped her tits again.
"Mmmmm, yes. Feel how hard my nipples are," Nicole encouraged Alec as she brought her hands up over his. "God, that's it....squeeze them....aaahh.....yeah."
"Such perfect little titties," Thornton said as he brought his head down over one of her shoulders. Her stiff nipples poked against his rubbing palms, and he grabbed them with his fingers and tweaked them. Nicole shuddered against him. "Take off your skirt for me. I want to see your pretty pussy, too."
Nicole's hands left his and went to the side zipper, which she took down in one long pull. She shimmied out of the tight skirt and let it fall to the floor around her ankles.
"Jesus Christ!" Thornton said as he saw Nicole's undergarments. Or the lack of them. He had assumed the fishnet stockings were just that, stockings. But now he saw that they were a skin-tight leotard garment that came up over Nicole's slender hips, completely covering her ass, hips, and crotch in a soft black mesh. And that was all she had on. She had not worn any panties, and Alec could see the swatch of her pubic hair nestled between her thighs.
"I knew you'd like my club outfit," Nicole cooed as her hands ran down and rubbed the area between her legs. "The material feels so good against my pussy. I've gotten off once or twice wearing these."
He watched as Nicole grabbed a bunch of the fishnet above her crotch and pulled upward. The small silky strings rode up into her labia, clearly defining her lovely sex. Thornton had seen enough.
"That's too fuckin' sexy," he said as he pushed her toward the double-size bed. "Go over there and lay down."
Thornton began tearing his clothes off as his once-demure secretary walked to the bed. She reached back, undid her bra, cast it to the floor, and crawled on the bed, moving to lie sideways facing him. Thornton pulled down his underwear and strode to the bed, naked finally.
He liked the way Nicole hungrily eyed his bobbing, stiff erection. His cock jutted up in front of him, pointing at his secretary as she raised herself up on her left elbow. Thornton kneeled on the bed on his knees near Nicole's face. There was no need to speak any words; Nicole raised up on her left arm, reached for his cock with her right hand as her lover's fingers entwined themselves in her fine long auburn hair and pulled her head toward his waiting member.
"Yeeeeeaaaahhhh!" Thornton gasped as Nicole's soft lips closed on his head and slid down his shaft. Her teeth lightly scraped his throbbing boner as it rode to the back of her hot mouth. She began bobbing her head, and the sound of her wanton slurping filled the hotel room. Her gripping fist at his base began slowly jacking him off as her delightful tongue swirled all over his hefty prick.
"Yeah....suck it, Nicole......ahhhh.....jack it and suck it."
Thornton reveled in the feeling of sexual adoration his cock was getting as Nicole expertly blew him. She was loving it with her tongue and lips like her life depended on it.
Nicole ran her tongue up the underside of Alec's enflamed glans and pressed it into his cockslot, looking for more of the oozing pre-cum that she had been tasting since his hard fucklog had entered her mouth. Above her, she heard Alec grunt, and his fingers dug into her hair.
Thornton held the redhead's head tightly as her lips swirled around the sensitive head of his cock. The previously faithful wife of another was giving him a fantastic blowjob. Her sweet mouth and jacking hand were traveling over every bit of his long dong.
'Christ, she was going to coax a mouthful of cum out of him soon this way,' Thornton thought. That wouldn't be fair to her; she needed a good fucking. Her programming had her in a very aroused state.
Thornton slid his left hand down between their bodies, and his hand ran over her conical breasts. The nipples were stiff and jutting. He grabbed one of the hard nubs and pulled it up and down. He couldn't see past the top of her head, but he could feel her soft tit jiggle, and Nicole made a loud "mmmmmppfff" sound around his wet shaft. The vibrations of her moan almost set Thornton off, and he hurriedly pulled her off his ready-to-burst cock.
"That's enough of that, baby," Thornton said as he pushed her down onto her elbows on the bed. Her long, fine reddish-brown hair fanned out on the bed underneath her, framing her beautiful face. Thornton leaned over and kissed her while his hand slid down the front of her torso. He felt the outline of the bottom of her ribcage, her satiny soft tummy. Thornton finished his kiss when his fingers hit the top of her fishnet lingerie.
"These are great," Thornton said as his hand slid over the textured surface of Nicole's lap. "I would like you to start wearing more sexy items like this." He swung his right arm over Nicole and leaned forward so his face was over her lap. His hand slipped down into the juncture of her thighs, and Nicole spread her legs wider as his hand cupped her wet pussy.
"Oh, yes, Alec. I've got some sexy underwear that you're gonna love." He felt Nicole's left hand reach up and stroke his hanging dick. She continued, "Let me take these hose off, and we can fuck again. We're both ready."
Thornton loved the hose she had on. Too bad there wasn't a built-in hole for fucking. 'But then again, why let that stop us?' Thornton decided.
He brought his other hand down into her crotch, gripped the material, and gave a pull. The flimsy strands of the fishnet tore easily enough. It parted like a spiderweb, the slight tear spread into a large gap in a second.
"Oh, Alec!" Nicole gasped as she felt the encasing material part around her pussy mound. "I just bought those!"
"Relax, I'll buy you another pair."
"But, what will I tell Jeff?" Jeff, her husband.
"Tell him they got a tear. Better yet, you can leave early today and buy another pair on the way home. Then he'll never know." Thornton ran his fingers down into the folds of her pussy, and Nicole whimpered in delight. All thoughts of her husband were washed away as Thornton teased her sensitive clitty. Her hand tugged on his dick like she wanted to tear it off.
"Fuck my pussy! Ahhh, please, give it to me," Nicole pleaded as Thornton's fingers strummed in her slick folds. She yanked on his dick several more times, and it felt like a lead bar in her palm. She didn't try to analyze the newfound lust for her boss. She'd worked for him for 18 months without any feelings like she had now. 'God, I just want him to screw her with his big dick!' her mind reeled.
"With pleasure, darling," Thornton promised as he stood up by the bed."Roll over and scoot your butt over here."
Nicole readily complied with his orders. The turned-on secretary positioned herself on her hands and knees, facing away from Alec, with her lower legs hanging over the side of the bed. She swung her long hair to one side and looked back at him. He was eyeing her upthrust bottom lustfully while he stroked his mighty penis, that cock that she couldn't wait to feel up her aching cunt. She could feel the tear in her hose forming an oval opening from halfway up her ass to just over the top of her rectangular shaved pubic swatch. He was getting a good view of her ready sex.
"Man, what a fucking dream you are!" Thornton said as he moved in closer. His hands grabbed her mesh-covered ass and he squeezed it lovingly. He pressed his legs against the inside of her shins and opened her legs wider. Her ass lowered further down so the top was just below his nuts.
'Perfect,' he thought. His thumbs slid into the top of the split in her hose and he pulled the material up higher on her ass. Looking down, he had a great view of her wet gash. Nicole had lowered herself down on her elbows and now she ran one hand back under her body. Thornton watched as her fingers slid into view and proceeded to part her pussy lips for him. Her pink tunnel was right there, just begging for it.
"You're a bad girl, aren't you Nicole?" Thornton teased as he leaned slightly over her, watching as his fat cockhead slid between her splayed fingers and found her open notch.
"I'm soooo bad," Nicole purred. "I don't know why. But I love it. Take me, right now!"
Thornton flexed his hips forward and his knob disappeared down her snug hole. He saw Nicole's hand grip the bedsheets and her mouth open as she sucked in a deep breath. Thornton let go his grip on the mesh hose and he felt the material slide down to rest on the top of his cock. He leaned further over Nicole and grabbed her by her shoulders. He pulled them back toward him as he moved his hips forward and Nicole's lovely back arched as Thornton's fuck-arrow disappeared down into her love-quiver.
Nicole closed her eyes and mewed in delight as her boss's thick prick filled her pussy to capacity. This was the feeling she had been thinking about since their first fuck in his office. Her quim felt stuffed and his cock radiated a heat throughout her loins. Alec began thrusting back and forth in her succulent cunt and Nicole began rubbing her clit and time seemed to fly by...
Thornton heard his watch alarm go off and he stopped his thrusting and relaxed his grip on Nicole's waist. He'd screwed her to two good orgasms in the last half hour but his dick had yet to deposit his load in her juice-laden hole. He'd come awfully close each time her cuntal muscles had spasmed in the culmination of her climaxes. Her gorgeous body and the way he made her degrade herself would be a constant turn-on for him. Once unattainable, but now open and eager for anything he desired.
Thornton ran his hands over the upper swells of Nicole's ass and down her back. Her face was turned sideways, pressed into the mattress as her body relaxed after their sexual exertions. Thornton looped an arm under her torso and pulled Nicole up off the bed until her sweaty back met his chest, keeping his dick buried inside her soupy crack. Nicole's hands came up over her head and ran through his hair as he buried his face in her long hair.
"That was unbelievable," she murmured.
"Yeah, fucking your pussy is like heaven," Thornton whispered as he ran his hands up her slender sides and cupped her delicate teats. "But I've been thinking about your hot mouth all the time. You sucked me so good, it's all I can think about. Does your husband ever shoot off in your mouth?"
"Yes."
"I bet he does. You swallow his cum?" Thornton was getting more excited by the minute as he asked his secretary the most personal questions one could ask. And the girl was willing to tell him all he wanted to know.
"Yes," Nicole mewed. "I'll swallow it if he asks me. But sometimes I do something I saw in a dirty movie once."
"A porno film?"
"Yes, my husband likes me to do what a girl did in the movie."
"I want you to show me, Nicole. Do me just like the porno girl."
Thornton had no idea what she was talking about but he definitely wanted to get off in her sexy mouth. His hands slid down her sides to her hips and he pushed her away from him. His cock sprang from her well-screwed pussy as she slumped down onto the bed.
"How do you want me, baby?" Thornton asked as he climbed onto the bed on his knees by her side. Nicole rose up on one arm and swept her long fine hair away from her flushed face.
"Sit back against the headboard."
Thornton leaned back on against the top of the bed and spread his legs. His beet-red member jutted straight up into the air from his matted pubic hairs. Nicole slid up between his legs and placed her left elbow over his right thigh. She rolled slightly on her left side, placing her weight on his leg, as she reached with her right hand and took command of his upthrust cock. She scooted further up until her mouth was hovering next to his flared crown.
"God, your cock looks like the one in that film," Nicole commended Thornton as she kissed the underside of his glans tenderly. Thornton couldn't wait to blow his wad in her mouth.
"Suck me off right now!" Thornton grabbed the back of her head and she craned her head further up and sank her mouth down around his waiting tool. She began sucking his peter hard and fast as her hand jacked him off.
"Oh, Christ. Yeah, suck it, suck it!" Thornton encouraged his trampy secretary as he pulled her hair away from her face so he could watch her lips slide up and down his cocktrunk. Her eyes were closed as she worked her oral magic and she began making little mmmmmming sounds like she was really enjoying the hard meat lodged in her mouth.
"Aaaahh, fuck, that feels great! Suck it, baby, aahh, aaahh, man, I'm gonna fill your mouth in a minute! Oooh, shit! Those fucking lips! Aaah, fuck!" Thornton could feel his balls begin to tighten as he headed for the zenith of a huge ejaculation. He began giving short hunches up into Nicole's busy mouth. Her hand stroked him harder in response.
"Suck, suck, suck! I'm gonna come in a second, Nicole! Look at me! Yeah, aaah, look right in my eyes and jerk me off with your hand!" Nicole ran her lips up near the top of his phallus and her hand began to jack him faster and faster. Her green eyes stared up at his face as she beat him off. Thornton fought off the end as long as he could but the sensations became too intense and he let the flood gates open.
Moaning loudly, he began filling Nicole's mouth with his pearly discharge. She locked her lips tightly around his shaft and her hand tightened around him, began milking him in perfect synchronization with his spurting. One...two...three...four...five big shots of Thornton's cum cascaded up against the top of her mouth before the torrent began to subside into weak jerks of the dregs of his cumload.
Thornton brought his hand off Nicole's head and let his body relax as he watched Nicole finish up. But Nicole was just beginning her little trick she'd learned from the movie.
She brought her mouth up off his cockhead and let her lips go slack and his jism spilled down onto his glans like syrup on a sundae. The sticky fluid ran slowly down his shaft to pool around the top of her fist. She dragged her hand back up near his glans and her mouth went back over his cock and he could feel her sucking his cum back into her mouth. She repeated the process a second time, looking up into his eyes as his seed leaked back down onto his rapidly restiffening member.
"Shit, you nasty bitch!" Thornton thrilled as he hunched his cum-coated prick into her fist. "Keep playing with my cum, you cocksucker."
Nicole kept it up until most of his seed was rubbed into his peter or on her lips and cheeks. Finally she was left with several long strands of jizz/saliva connecting her mouth with the top of his dick as she gazed down at it from about six inches. Thornton had never seen such an erotic sight.
"That was outstanding. I think I found your true calling in life," Alec teased as he pushed her head down. "Clean me up, baby."
As Nicole slurped up the remains of his sperm, Thornton thought about all the blowjobs he'd have Nicole give him in the office in the future. She'd give him one in the morning and maybe suck him off again before he went home. Although, with his wife and stepdaughter waiting for him, that would not be too often.
Then that feeling of guilt came over him again. He became a little worried that this power he had was going to get in the way of his career. It seemed to be taking him away from work. He'd wasted several hours with Nicole when he could have been working. He thought almost constantly about other patients to gain control over. He was not one to become so obsessed.
'Why have I become the person I am today? Why can't I stop this?' he wondered.
When they got back to the office, there were several messages on the answering machine. One of them was from Stephana. Thornton had Nicole call back the other parties as he went into his office and phoned his wife.
"Hi, Stevie. You were trying to reach me?"
"Yes, darling. I just wanted to call and see how your day was going. You had to rush off this morning and I did not tell you how wonderful last night was. I never thought touching myself like that, you know, with you telling me to finger myself could get me so excited. It was unbelievable, darling."
"Yes, it was quite a show you put on.""We're going to start trying many different things. I know you will be open to some suggestions that I might make."
"Now you have intrigued me," Stephana said sexily. "I can't wait for you to get home."
Thornton decided to test the conditioning he had given his wife.
"Stevie, hypothetically, what would you say if I told you that I was having an affair with Nicole? If that was a form of sexual expression that I wanted to try, how would you feel about that?" He emphasized the words 'form of sexual expression' as he had used them that night when he put her under.
Stevie was silent for a moment, then replied, "If that was what you wanted, I could live with that. I know you love me."
Thornton applauded himself that he now had a wife that would not feel unsettled about him screwing other women on the side. No messy divorce loomed ahead. As long as he was happy, she would be happy. He also knew that she would now be open to any sexual acts he could suggest. Their sex life had been full and varied, but there were things that she refused to try or he'd never wanted to risk asking her. There was one thing that he had always wanted to experience with her.
"Stevie, put Lisa on. I want to talk with her a moment."
When his stepdaughter came on, he told her he wanted her to go out with her friends that night. She was to tell them that she was going to be spending less and less time with them as she brought her grades up and spent more time with her family. He told her to be back in by 1 PM and she was not to have sex with any of her boyfriends any longer.
She promised to be back in by her curfew time and she asked him if he might come to her room later, after telling him her mother was out of earshot.
"Probably not tonight, but this weekend I'm sure we can find some time together."
Tomorrow was Saturday and he was going to be picking up his daughter, Jenny, at the airport. Getting Lisa alone would not be an easy task with his unprogrammed daughter around. Stephana would be no problem; all he had to do was tell her mother to go shopping or to visit her friends or, hell, tell her to go stand in a closet for an hour.
"Put your mother back on, honey. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
When Stevie came back on the line, he told her that Lisa would be going out and it was OK with him. He suggested a quiet dinner together and then hinted at some romantic activities afterward. Stevie said she'd prepare everything.
Thornton had Nicole place a call for him, and a minute later she came on the line to tell him the party he wished to talk to was on the line. He reached for the phone and spoke, "This is Dr. Thornton. Buttercup."
"That was a great meal, Maria, thank you. After you've cleared the dishes, you can leave. We're having a guest over tonight."
The maid began taking the dishes into the kitchen as Alec and his wife took their after-dinner drinks out onto the patio behind the mansion. Alec slipped his arm around Stevie's waist and hugged her as they looked out over the lake.
"Who is this mystery guest, darling?" Stevie asked him again. He'd told her they would be entertaining someone, but had not told her who or what was the occasion. His wife was wearing a shiny silver evening gown with a low-cut neckline which clearly showed the upper swells of her augmented breasts.
"You don't know her. But you remember the questions I asked you this afternoon? Well, there's no hypotheticals tonight, Stevie. I've invited another woman over to be with us. I want to experience both of you together. Upstairs. In bed."
Alec felt her body tense. Even after being conditioned to want to participate with him in any sexual act he desired, there was still some deep hang-ups in her about either being with another woman or seeing her husband with another.
"Are you sure that is what you want?" Stevie asked.
"Definitely. And I know you want me to be happy, so you will join us. Imagine the hands and mouth of another woman pleasuring you while I watch." Stephana relaxed in his arm. "Imagine her mouth on your nipples while I fuck you."
Thornton sat his glass on the patio balustrade and ran the palm of his free hand over the swell of her breasts and onto her tanned breastbone. Stevie's eyes were now full of desire, for him and for the other woman, whoever she was. He wouldn't have to put her under again to make her go along with the threesome.
He kissed her tenderly as his hand slid down to squeeze a breast while his other hand slid down her bare leg exposed in the dress's high side slit. She molded her body to him as his hand travelled up under her dress. She was wearing a pair of thong underwear to minimize any lines in the tight dress, and Alec was able to feel her bare bottom.
He was thinking about sitting her on the balustrade, hiking her dress up around her waist and using his mouth on her familiar womanhood. But at that moment, car headlight beams swept over them. A portion of the winding driveway in front of the house was visible from where they stood, and Thornton saw a red Porsche approaching the house.
"It looks like our guest is here, darling. Let's go welcome her," Thornton said as he grabbed Stevie's hand and led her back into the house. | 4 |
5,788 | RP Seurat's Twighlight Zone chapter 4(j-last): Art Critic | "Put the manacles on."
I wrapped the restraints on and fixed them in place, and she pressed another button. Immediately the straps retracted into the ends of the horse, pulling my arms apart and forcing me to my knees. The chains retracted into the horse, forcing my chest even further into the horse. In a few seconds, I went from standing free to kissing the leather in front of me.
The zebra-bug-woman walked around behind me, the clicking of her heels echoing through the chamber. "Have you enjoyed your little escapades, Mr. O'Neill? Do you like the clothes, the women, your big dick? Have you enjoyed the kinky fucks every week while your wife lives in ignorance? If you were my husband, you wouldn't have to go to work. We would fuck and suck all day long. You could be my little sex slave, and I would punish you when you were bad, pleasure you when you were good. Maybe you like being a bad boy. Well, Mr. O'Neill, bad boys get spanked. Would you like to be spanked?" She pulled the dress up to my hips, exposing my dildo-filled ass, and began to hit my ass cheeks with her open hand.
As she spanked, she again asked me, "Have you liked your little escapades?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Are you a bad boy?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Do you like being a horse-dicked she-male sex-slut pussy-whipped slave?"
"Yes, Mistress." Utter defeat could be heard in my voice. Even so, I almost laughed at the fact that she could say that last sentence without getting tongue-tied.
After about thirty smacks, none of which caused me any real discomfort, she walked around in front of me again. "Not much of a reaction from you. Maybe your punishment should be a little more severe." She pressed another button on her remote, and two of the mirrors opened up, one on either side of the room. From the opening on my left stepped a female dressed head to toe in a VRskin body suit, black in color at her feet but fading to white at her head. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled through a hole in the top of the mask covering her head. Mirrored sunglasses on a stretch strap were pulled tight over where her eyes should be. The only exposed flesh that I could see were a set of bright red lips.
From the other side came two similarly dressed females, only with dark brown hair, and both made their way towards me, their unshod feet making no noise on the floor. They stopped in front of me, so that I might better see them, and then turned to face the zebra woman. "Mr. O'Neill, since you so enjoy fucks and sucks with women other than your wife, I've decided to give you a chance to experience our ultimate blow job. These are my three helpers for the night, and they will get the two of us ready." The dirty blonde padded over to the wardrobe, opened it, and took out a wooden box about a foot long. The zebra woman opened the box and took out a tube of the gel. Squeezing a generous portion into her hand and put the tube back into the box. All three received generous portions on their crotches, and one brunette had some smeared on her lips. What remained in her hand the zebra woman rubbed on her own crotch.
The dirty blonde then took something from the box and with both hands pressed it to the zebra woman's crotch, then the four turned to face me. I had a raging hard-on from watching these four walk around, but nearly lost it when I saw what was now attached to the zebra woman; eight inches of rock-hard zebra-striped cock pointed at me from across the room. Six-inch black cocks protruded from the crotches of each of the brunettes. A sinister laugh began to fill my ears from the speakers around the room.
"Well, little girl, see what dressing like a leather slut gets you?" She motioned to the three women with her, and they moved towards me. One brunette got down on all fours in front of me, and even though I couldn't see her because of the horse in front of me, I felt her gel-covered lips encase the head of my cock. The dirty blonde moved around me, lifted my ass into the air so that my legs were straight up and my body was horizontal to the horse, and I felt her grab my hips as she ground her hips into the dildo in my ass. The other brunette stood at the end of the horse.
The laughter started again, and I saw her press a few buttons on the remote. As the humming started, I felt a mouth engulf my shaft until it was at the base, swallowing the entire eleven inches, while the blonde ground into my ass even harder. Beep. The cock on the zebra woman sprang to life, and from my genitals, I started to get a very strange sensation. The dirty blonde was now evidently attached to the dildo in my ass and to me because of the straps running through it and around me, and began to fuck me with a slow rhythm. The brunette was now a part of my cock, and it felt as if she were sucking and licking the entire length of my cock at once. After a minute or two of their separate attempts, they began to move in sync, one pushing my orgasm out from behind while the other tried to suck it out from the front. The prosthetic sheath on my cock was preventing my release.
Zebra-woman walked towards me, the cock slapping obscenely against her legs making my fear rise. "Ask for it nicely, leather slut. Tell me you want to suck my cock. Suck it like you want your wife to suck yours if she could make your wet dreams come true. You be the wife, and worship this thick cock the way you've always wanted it done to you. Now, TELL ME YOU WANT TO SUCK MY COCK!" The mechanical voice reverberated throughout the room, its echoes fading so the only sound was the grunts from my ass-fucker and the slurps from my cock-sucker.
I knew I had lost. Whatever shred of dignity I might have had left after the past weeks faded. My voice came out high and womanly due to the collar. "I want to suck your cock."
"No. Like your wife would say it, the way she does when you fantasize about her while jerking off. Like there is nothing else in the world that matters, just sucking cock, my little wife. Tell your husband his wife wants to suck his cock." She moved closer, the cock bobbing in front of my lips.
Of all the women I had encountered in the past few weeks, this was probably the craziest. I could hear the hysteria in her voice. "Give me your thick cock. My husband. I want to be your wife, and I want to suck your cock. I want to suck it, to kiss it to experience it. I...I want it. I...I..." In a quick motion, I bobbed forward, taking the phallus in my mouth, swirling my tongue over the glans, sucking as though I knew nothing else. I bobbed my head up and down, sucking all the while, doing to the zebra-woman what I wanted done to me.
Her left hand came to rest on the back of my head, helping the movement of my mouth-stroking. Below and behind me, the other girls had worked my body into a frenzy. My whole body started to go numb, and I knew I was going to come regardless of the prosthetics. I heard the soft tap of the buttons as the woman behind me approached orgasm. I looked up at the zebra woman, and could feel her evil smile even through the mask.
"That's it, baby. Yeah, suck it. Oh yeah." Her comments sounded like those in a bad porn movie. "Oh god, yes. Oh yeah, baby, suck me. I'm gonna cum. Yes, suck me. Yes. Yes! YES!" The phallus in my mouth started to convulse, and she drove my head down further on the shaft. In what I can only call an explosion, the cock began to spurt cum down my throat, and as she backed up, it filled my now gagging mouth. "Swallow what you can, wifey. It took us the past six weeks to collect all this cum from you." She was laughing; I tried to swallow it all but couldn't, and zebra woman backed up another step, spurting cum on my face and in my hair. A minute later, I felt the woman behind me shudder for a full two minutes, BEEP, and she was able to pull away from my ass. She grabbed my shoulders and pulled up, the straps holding my arms releasing from the horse. The brunette continued to pump my aching shaft. I couldn't take much more without passing out.
Zebra-woman walked over to me, disconnected the clamps, and stood to my side. "Fondle her." I reached over to the dirty blonde's crotch and gripped it in my right hand, and began to squeeze and stroke it. "Now me." With my left hand, I grabbed her cock, and proceeded to do the same to her.A bright light flashed in my eyes, and the brunette below me sucked even harder. I exploded in her mouth as the light went off again, each spurt met with a flash. BEEP. With an audible pop, her mouth came free from my shaft, and I collapsed to the floor, the three women standing over me. I was so dizzy I could hardly think. My flaccid horse cock retracted as I lay there.
The brunettes pulled me to a kneeling position and wrapped my hands around their phalluses, pushing them towards my face. Zebra woman was hard again.
"Seems you haven't satisfied all of us yet. This time, I want you to suck like you really mean it. And show them what a good hand job you can give." This time, my hands pumped away on the cocks to either side while I sucked on the one in front of me like some porn queen. In a few minutes, I heard a muted beep as all three exploded; one filled my mouth while the other two showered my face in my own cum. "Lick them clean, you fucking whore." I did as I was told, a strobe light going off the entire time.
"Now get my slut-wife out of here." The two brunettes picked me up under my arms and proceeded to carry me out of the dungeon. They unceremoniously tossed me in my car and dropped the controller on the other seat, along with a handful of twenties.
"That's for services rendered tonight. Better hurry, cum-sucking bitch. Wifey should be home soon." My tires spun as I pulled out of the driveway.
I nearly made it to the halfway point when I realized my gas tank was almost empty, even though I had filled it yesterday. I pulled into the local mini-mart, hobbled my way to the cashier, and shoved one of the twenties at the gape-jawed clerk. "Fill it up." He stared wide-eyed at me and slowly pulled in the twenty. I got out of there quick and raced home.
I pulled into my driveway, the toe-down ballet-style boots making the drive all but impossible. I clicked off the ignition and grabbed the controller. Best to get inside before I started to disrobe. I got out of the car and stumbled to the house. My aching feet and dildo-filled ass made walking very difficult now. As I fumbled with the keys, I saw headlights turn into the driveway.
I rushed inside, grabbed the handrail, and pulled myself upstairs. Once there, I moved to the master bathroom and locked the door. I turned on the shower and breathed a sigh of relief. Downstairs, I heard my wife come in, then start to putter around.
In the bathroom, I was met with an unusual sight. The reflection in the mirror showed a leather-clad slut, dried cum around her mouth and in her hair and all over her face, make-up mussed, looking and smelling strongly of sex. Oh yeah: an eleven-inch dick hanging out of the bottom of her dress. No wonder the clerk gave me such a strange look.
I undid the dress and did my best to get out of it, finally dropping it to the floor, but not before losing my balance and falling to the floor. The dress off, I picked up the controller and took a seat on the toilet, pushing the now familiar feeling dildo further into my sore ass. My huge cock started to spring to life again.
"Honey? Is that you?" My wife's voice was close; the shower I had turned on had masked her approach.
"Who..." My woman's voice cracked. I tried dropping it a few octaves, and it almost sounded normal. "Who else would it be, dear?"
"I've got the most incredible news! I did it. I mean, we did it! The lottery! We hit for nearly twenty million! I tried getting you at the gym, but they said you weren't there. I called the realtor and confirmed a buy on that house we were looking at, and then went shopping, and I bought some things, and I hope you're not upset with me." I could hear the excitement in her voice as it all bubbled forth.
Meanwhile, I was trying to get out of my predicament. I tapped the release code into the controller and waited. BEEP. Immediately, the dildo in my ass started to vibrate, and my cock began to really harden. Wrong code! I tapped it in again, taking a little more time. BEEP. The corset shrunk again while my bust expanded, and the sudden change in weight distribution made me topple over.
"First, I got some new clothes, and I got this picture you just have to see...Honey, did you fall? Are you okay? Honey, do you need help?"
"No!" I had a hard time keeping my voice masculine. "I'll be out in a few minutes."
"Imagine it! We'll never have to work again. We can lounge about our house and do whatever we desire all day long!"
My cock stood out a full eleven inches from my body, and my already sore ass was going numb from the vibrator inside. My nipples ached.
"There is one thing I bought I really think you should know about."
"What's that, dear?"
The door kicked in, the latch splintering the wood as it swung wide. Before me stood the zebra woman, bug mask gone to reveal my wife's face beneath. In one hand, she held a 3-foot by 4-foot framed and matted picture of me as a woman, my mouth wide open and filled with cum, a huge zebra cock shooting more cum on my face and in my hair. On either side of my head, I gripped another dick, each shooting cum onto my face. "I bought new codes for your controller, wifey, when I renewed my membership. Bring that horse cock of yours out here where I can properly fuck it. We can watch some of your movies while you tell me how much you've enjoyed the past few weeks."
Epilogue
I lay on the silk sheets covering our master bed, staring up at my reflection in the mirror above me, my thick ten-inch long cock dribbling cum into my bellybutton. My feet are locked in spike-heeled boots which are in turn locked in the stocks which make up our bed's footboard. My hands are encased in leather mittens and locked in the stocks that are our headboard. Around my twenty-six-inch waist is a heavily boned leather corset which supports my double-D cup breasts, done in the zebra skin which denotes the clan my wife controls in the society. My bright red lips are wrapped around the rubber ball gag stuffed in my mouth. I can't remember when she last let me be just me. I can't remember what is actually me.
My wife came over, dressed in a zebra-striped fur cat suit, and lifted my cock to her mouth. "I'm so glad you've accepted our new life. I missed my sorority sisters so much, and now we're all together again. I am sorry about the show; but you needed to be taught some humility. I was beginning to think you'd leave me for a life with the other girls." My shaft slid between her lips into her hot wet mouth, and she began to suck and lick. She paused and looked me in the eyes.
"Do you mind if I have some of my old friends over tonight, honey? Tara says she has some new ideas she wants to try out, and you are *so* accommodating. After all, I know how you like something a little kinkier than what we normally do. Then we could go over to the Twilight Zone, and I could show off my new personal servant. No objections? I just knew you wouldn't mind." She turned on the vibrator in my ass and finished the blow job.
Addendum - the following May
I don't know what to think of the changes in my life. The first few months with my wife in our new life seemed to be nothing but opportunities for me, both at work (which I continued to go to) and in our marital relationship. We limit the full-blown costuming to once every two weeks, but often put each other into bondage during the week. We've both learned to explore our sexual needs more, but have agreed to keep the relationship primarily monogamous. Why? Seems the entire model/runway scene was her way of getting back at me when she thought I was having too much fun. She had wanted to hurt me, but when she realized just what effect it had on me, she apologized. She still won't tell me if it was her or not, though.
As I said, our sex life couldn't be better. I've accepted my status as her personal servitor within the organization and have learned quite a bit because of it. One thing has been nagging at me, though, and that is a few fantasies I have that weren't touched upon during my training. When I think about it, I learned a lot about myself: what my limits are, what turns me on, and that pleasure in a sexual context can be enjoyable from a submissive position. What I was missing was a scene with me as the dominant. Make that scenes, with my wife as the submissive. Maybe it should be my wife who takes a course in pleasing men, with me as the instructor in each scene. I'll have to talk to Tara. | 5 |
5,790 | Angie Baby | "Angie! Angie!! Turn that music down!" yelled Dan down the hall towards his daughter's room. The volume dropped by a dozen decibels, which made conversation in the front of the house possible, but he knew the respite would only be temporary. When Angie was in one of her moods, nothing could long keep her from blasting out the music.
He and Janice, his wife, exchanged pained looks, knowing each other's thoughts almost perfectly at that moment. Slowly, over the course of years, they had come to realize that their daughter was not fully sane, and there was nothing anybody could do about it. Counselors had talked and listened until they went practically nuts themselves trying to crack through her shell. Psychiatrists had hemmed and hawed and tried all their neat tricks and puzzles, and failed to penetrate her outer mask. Doctors had poked and prodded and scanned and run test after test, finally deciding that Angie was, in fact, in perfect health.
Everyone agreed, though, that she was just a little strange.
Everyone except Angie.
She had long since given up trying to have anyone else share what she knew of reality, things she had discovered as a child, things that others knew to be impossible. So she learned to wear a girl-mask, and then a teen-mask, until the day Gary Planchett had cornered her, alone, in an empty room at school.
Nobody believed her when she said he was trying to do more than just kiss her, even though she told him no. He was a model student, a member of the school council, and was a top performer in baseball and soccer. He had a girlfriend already, one of the cheerleaders, so he didn't need to force himself on her.
But he had, and she had stopped him.
Plastic surgery had repaired most of his face, but couldn't fix his damaged eye.
Nobody believed her. Her bruises didn't matter to them.
She was taken out of school. Angie had no friends there anyway, so she considered it no great hardship. By that time, she believed that she knew everything they were going to teach her. When she wrote tests, she got everything right. Always. The answers were always available to her if she didn't know them already. Nobody ever caught her cheating in a normal manner, and nobody ever believed her when she told them how she cheated, so they called her brilliant, gifted, a prodigy. They also said she was on the wrong side of a certain fine line, speaking as though she wouldn't understand the reference.
That was another barrier between her and the normal world, especially between her and anyone in school who might have been brave enough to try and make friends with her.
She retreated into songs, music, rock and roll, and the radio. Music had always been there for her, and she had always loved listening to the melodies and the stories. She began to live them. They became her life.
Just more proof that she was crazy.
Dan and Janice both heaved a sigh of relief when the music suddenly stopped. Silence filled the house, sounding very strange after three hours of songs played at a very high volume. Slowly, other noises came to be heard - the ticking of the kitchen clock, the hum of the refrigerator, the honking and roaring of distant traffic.
"Mom, Dad, I'm going out for a walk!" Angie shouted, as she made her way towards the back door.
Dan nodded, then watched his little girl stroll through the yard, out the gate, and down the lane.
"She looks like a normal fifteen-year-old," he thought to himself as he stared out the window. "She sounds like a normal fifteen-year-old too. Why can't she be a normal fifteen-year-old?"
His eyes caught sight of her again part way down the alley.
At five feet five inches, she wasn't terribly tall or terribly short. At ninety-five pounds, she was probably a little thin for her height, but she was still blossoming. Her light brown hair was shiny and clean, slightly curled, and was just a little more than shoulder length. It was worn loose, as usual. Green eyes, already looking large in her small, elfin face, were made to seem absolutely huge and luminous with just a touch of makeup.
Smiling was a thing she did often, usually because of something in her private little world. Her perfect white teeth, which had never needed braces, were almost all put on display by her generously wide mouth. Lightly tanned skin, a faint, natural blush, and features that were regular and even, combined to create a budding sensuality.
Despite her youth and lack of full development, she was proud of her body. Breasts the size of small apples, hips starting to spread, a very narrow waist, long legs, and slender thighs and calves gave her a look of youthful innocence with that hint of wantonness so many older boys and men found attractive. She was becoming beautiful.
Another pair of eyes watched her as she walked down the alley. There was no bemusement there, no love, no tenderness. Lust and desire filled them, leaving no room for anything else. Bob, their next-door neighbor's son, was staring out of an upstairs window. His thoughts were far from pure.
Bob was not a nice guy. He was a senior in high school, got very good grades, was the star quarterback, and had himself a scholarship to a prestigious college. He also collected notches on his belt. Being a tall, good-looking blond hunk, well-muscled, and a suave, debonair kind of smooth talker, he had a regular string of girls that put out for him.He used them, but they weren't enough. They were too easy. He liked collecting notches. At seventeen, he was both worldly experienced and hardened. There was an extreme lack of normal morality or conscience inside his person.
He'd already been into the panties of every loose girl in school. All the girls that weren't so easy, but liked to party, he'd had too. Slipping a Mickey Finn to a girl he wanted was perfectly acceptable, in his eyes. His favorite memories were of the sixteen-year-old Fawsey twins. Both were out at a senior party for the first time. Both went with dates. Both drank the special rum and cokes he made. Both were virgins when he had them. He left them lying in bed together when they started recovering. Both blamed their dates when they regained their senses.
Any girl that was rumored not to scream when cornered, he'd also had. Willingness was not a prerequisite for his conquests. One girl, Stacy, had learned not to bother struggling whenever he wanted her. All she did was cry, turn around, and drop her pants and panties.
Neither was age a barrier to his desires. Anything growing breasts was fair game for his lusts, young or old.
One fourteen-year-old girl that he seduced, then raped, was just barely pubescent. By the time he finished playing with her mind, she believed everything was her fault and her idea. She was his willing sex toy, pretending to enjoy his vaginal, oral, and anal attentions. He grew tired of her after two months and gave her to a couple of his football buddies.
His thirty-four-year-old math teacher was his oldest victim. He blackmailed her into having sex with him. He had her at least once a week for an entire school year, and he insisted that it be without any protection whatsoever. She gave birth the following August, then moved away. They never saw or spoke to each other again.
Bob was definitely not a nice guy, and he was watching Angie with that same gleam he had when starting his other conquests. He had seen her naked many times, as he stood outside, in the dark, watching through her bedroom window. He believed that she wasn't concerned about being careful, since her window was ten feet above ground level, but he was resourceful. He had watched as her flat breasts swelled out to small handfuls, as her hips changed from vertical to slightly curvy, and as her bottom grew from little girl to rounded woman.
His favorite times were when she played sexy or romantic songs. 'Only You' was a song that she danced slow to. 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' was one she danced to like a crazy person, her small breasts swinging all over the place. Anything by Dr. Hook had her lying on the bed, hands between her legs, bouncing up and down. Watching her jerk off, seeing her teen breasts rolling around, absorbing all the looks of passion and ecstasy that ran across her face, always had him hard as a rock and jerking himself off right then and there. He always imagined himself in the room, laying on top of her, pumping his seed into her belly, impregnating her with his child.
Those were always some of the best climaxes of his life. He even used that fantasy sometimes when he was with one of his normal girls.
He liked what he saw, and he had finally decided to take her. A plan had formed. The idea in his head came from overhearing Lyn, his mother, and Janice, her mother, having another of their talks about Angie.
"She's definitely a bit touched. Still talks about all kinds of wild things. Things that just never happened."
"One day she swore that Meatloaf came to her room and made love to her. She played 'Paradise by the Dashboard Lights' over and over and over again until Dan took the record away from her."
"What else?"
"How about Jerry Lee Lewis? She told us she went to the movies with him, and they kissed and petted in the dark on the balcony. She said he was circumcised."
"You've got a ... very strange girl." Lyn paused for a moment before continuing. "What's her wildest one so far?"
"Oh, she claimed that the school's entire soccer team abducted her from the middle of the park and took her to a secluded glade. They then stripped and danced with her for hours, all in the nude. Then they all kissed her on the lips and the nipples and the pussy, got dressed, and took her home. Only when we pressured her did she admit that it was her ghosts doing the deed, not the real team. She's going to drive me batty with her wild fantasies one day."
"You poor dear. Here, let me get you some more tea."
Bob had his plan. He thought there would be no danger, since nobody would believe anything she said anyway.
The next Friday, Dan and Janice left town for the night. Naturally, Lyn, and therefore Bob, knew all about it. Angie, despite her strangeness, had long since proven that she could safely be left on her own.
Lyn also went out for the evening, on a date with a guy she was involved with. Those dates usually lasted until the following afternoon.
Bob had his opportunity, and his plan. He thought there would be no danger, since nobody would believe anything she said anyway.
"Hi, Angie. How'ya doin'?"
He watched her face very carefully, seeing what he took to be nervousness, awe, and a touch of fear in her eyes.
"Fine," she said.
"Can I come in? I forgot my keys at school and I'm waitin' for a friend to bring 'em over. He said he'd be here 'bout ten or so."
Bob figured five hours alone with Angie ought to be plenty of time to do anything he wanted, regardless of how she reacted.
"I guess. As long as you don't make a mess, and you take off your shoes, and you say 'please,' and you promise to do as you are told."
He smiled warmly and with apparent sincerity. "I promise."
Bob stood there for a few seconds, looking at her, waiting for her to finish opening the door. Finally, he grew impatient.
"Well?" he said, looking at her with his eyebrows raised.
"Well?" she replied, with a sour look on her face.
After another short pause, he came to realize what she was waiting for.
"Please, may I come in?"
She smiled brightly, pulling the door wide open for him.
When he walked inside, she stopped him with a hand on his chest before he could take two steps.
"No, no, no, you naughty boy. What did I just tell you?"
It took several more seconds for him to remember what else she had said. Only when his shoes were off did she let him proceed.
"Have a seat on the couch. Would you like a drink? Koolaid? Orange juice? Ginger ale? Milk?"
"You got anything a little, uh, stronger, maybe?"
"Oh, you're one of *those*, are you? Someone who doesn't like the world as it is, who needs the edges removed, the barriers lowered. Here, I'll sneak some of my Dad's vodka. He'll never miss it."
She got him his drink - vodka and orange - a double at least, by his estimate, and he watched her face and body as she moved around the bar. His cock got hard, imagining her without the t-shirt and jeans she was wearing. He didn't recognize the music she had playing, but then again, he didn't know or care much about music anyway. The words seemed appropriate, at least to him - "... all in all you're just another brick in the wall." Bob grinned in anticipation, crossing his legs to hide the bulge that was forming.
"Aren't you gonna join me? After all, it ain't polite letting your guest drink alone."
"No, I don't think so. Reality flows and changes enough for me already. I don't need depressants or stimulants to make things even weirder. You'll be drinking enough for both of us. Besides, terrible things could happen if *I* were to lose control!" She laughed, as though what she had said was uproariously funny.
Angie sat on the other end of the couch, sipping from a glass of ice water, watching him. Bob was a little nonplussed by her words and actions. They weren't those of any fifteen-year-old he'd put the make on before. "I guess she is weird," he thought. "This might be too damned easy."
"I heard that your folks are gone for the night. Is it for somethin' special?"
"Sort of. Dad says it's for business, but I know better. They just want to get away and be *alone* together. Mom doesn't like doing *it* with me in the house. She thinks I'm spooky."
He thought hard for a few seconds. "Are you spooky? You seen them doin' *it*? Or do you even know what *it* is?"
With a wicked and wanton grin, she replied. "Yes, and yes, and I know all about the birds and the bees and making whoopie."
Bob grinned back. "So you know all about it. You've seen and done it all. You're an experienced woman. I got just one question - how many real guys you done it with?"
A wistful look chased away her grin. "I've only ever done it with the ghosts and spirits I conjure up. They aren't very satisfying, because they only ever do what I can already do myself. And I have all these dreams ..."
"You ain't never done it for real then. You ever kissed a guy? You ever even had a real climax?"
"Kissing. The act of pressing lips on lips. If tongues are exchanged, Frenching is the proper term. Only once, a few years ago, with a boy I didn't like, who forced me to French him. It was disgusting. I've wondered ever since what it would have been like if he had been nice."
"Hmmm. Y'know, kissin' someone nice is somethin' you gotta be taught. Then you gotta practice. It's like playin' a piano. Anyone can play with one finger, but you gotta have lots of trainin' and practice to sound like Mozart." That was a line he'd used, successfully, several times before.
"Taught. Practice. Piano. Mozart. I wonder if he ever tried playing with his lips. Then again, he being a he, he probably didn't have the right lips to play with!" She laughed again, almost maniacally, at her own words.The young man didn't know what to make of her conversation.
"Bob," Angie said, speaking in a soft, little-girl voice, "do you know how to dance really well? Can you teach me?" Her look of innocent pleading prompted a new surge in his manhood.
Events were not unfolding in any way, shape, or form like he had envisioned them. The script was being followed, rather loosely, but he felt like his and hers were written by completely different people for completely different plays, and they were only superficially appearing to mesh. His hormones and lust overrode any reservations running through his brain.
"Yeah, I could, on one condition."
"What? What do you need for dancing?"
"I'll teach you to dance, if you'll also let me teach you to kiss. Deal?" Bob had also used 'dancing' and 'the deal' as a seduction ploy a few times. The reality of pressing body to body, with hands free to roam at will, had turned on many of his dates beyond the point of no return. He thought it a fortunate coincidence that she wanted to learn how.
"Kiss. You want to dance and ... kiss. Okay. Deal, for now. Wait here. I'll go find the right mood."
Ten minutes later, Bob was getting quite antsy and worried. That's when the classic voice of Tom Jones started up. As Angie walked into the living room some few minutes later, he stood to greet the new her, lust and amazement fighting for dominance on his face.
Gone were the jeans and white socks. Gone was the t-shirt. Gone was the bra she'd been wearing.
A black velvet minidress hung from spaghetti straps crossing her flawless white shoulders. The upper half concealed enough of her breasts to keep her legal, at least in most states. Her chest was revealed right down to the bottom of her breastbone, and the sides of her dress swept down the outside of her body, beginning their rearward journey only when they reached the bottom of her ribs, ending just above the beginning of her bottom, revealing the dimples in the small of her back. The hem sat several inches above mid-thigh. She twirled to show herself off.
His eyes kept travelling of their own accord, as they lacked any guidance from his higher brain functions for a moment or two.
Black patent heels, sheer charcoal gray nylons, a silver necklace, silver quarter-moon earrings, and one wrist full of bangles completed her apparel. Her hair, which had been down, was done up in a complex braid of some kind, leaving several wisps of light brown hanging in a frame around her face, a face which he couldn't quit staring at. She was beautiful - young, innocent, and vulnerable, like one of those waifs seen in the fashion magazines. Green eyes, large and luminescent, blinked a few times as she watched his reaction.
Bob began drooling, in two places, as he envisioned his cock being sucked on by those pale, innocent, lips. His imagination supplied him with several different expressions for her, from wanton lust to outright fear and revulsion. In all cases though, he was buried to the hilt in her throat. He had to shake his head to clear it of the images and toss back the rest of his drink before he could say hello again. | 6 |
5,810 | Skirt | "I'm so tired of winter," Laura said to herself, rubbing a red fleece jacket between thumb and finger. A wry smile tickled her face as she let a warm spring thought pass by. Laura turned slightly and pushed her way between two overstuffed racks of blouses to reach a thick ring of hanging slacks. Pushing hard on the loops of stiff wire, Laura opened a short space and began flipping the thin strips of black, grey, blue, and tan past her hand, continuing her constant hunt for something.
She lifted a pair of pants, royal blue cotton size eight, and then held it beside her hips. Laura hooked the hanger over her finger and resumed flipping dexterously through the garments. Another pair made the transition to her finger, and then another. Laura sighed, wondering if she shouldn't have gone to look at furniture instead. "I don't really need pants," she thought.
A flip of brown tweed revealed a black skirt, out of place. Laura pulled back the fabric to check the size and then lifted the skirt. "Isn't that cute," she thought and then frowned. "Where could I wear it?" She held it to her waist. "Short," she smiled, "with my blue silk blouse and some dark stockings." Laura's face grew serious, and she looked around. "About five years ago, maybe." She imagined feeling the heat of Tom's glare as he ridiculed her for trying to act younger than she was and started to put the skirt back. "Honestly, Laura," she said to herself, "he's never done that." She hooked the skirt's hanger onto her finger and looked around the clothed walls to find the fitting room.
Weaving her way between overstuffed racks, Laura finally reached the back corner of the department and looked around for some guidance. Walking past a large mound of unfolded clothes and a box overflowing with clear plastic hangers, she pulled the knob of a white slatted door. Laura stepped into the empty square space and tossed her purse and shopping bag on an upholstered box bench. Hanging up her goods, she closed the door.
A large mirror filled the wall. Laura smiled at her reflection as she took off her coat and hung it beside the pants and black skirt. "I still look good," she thought, turning her hips slightly to study the feminine curves of her body. Watching herself, Laura unbuckled the small brass buckle and unclasped her pants. The beige fabric slid down her thighs and fell into folds at her feet. Lifting up the slacks with her toe, Laura folded and then laid them over her purse. She took another glance at herself in the mirror as she loosened the hug of her cream lace panties. Laura smiled, shyly.
"Come here," she heard a younger woman say in a deliberate but hushed voice. Laura looked back at the still closed door. "C'mon," the girl said, slightly exasperated. Laura looked up to realize the walls ended at about eight feet, leaving four more between the cubicle top and the ceiling. Laura reached for the royal blue pants and began to step into them. Another door clicked shut.
"Sit down," the girl said. Laura closed the waist of the pants and turned to see her bottom in the mirror. "C'mon," said the voice from behind the glass. Laura stroked the fabric down the back of her thigh. The pants hung shapelessly.
"Am I going to get in trouble?" a deeper voice asked. Laura opened her mouth, astonished.
"She's got a guy in there," Laura thought, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.
"Yes, you are," teased the girl. "Now sit down. I've got to pick out something for Jack's party. This is easier, and they don't care."
Laura slipped off the royal blues and tossed them toward the corner. Pulling a grey pair from the hanger, she leaned over to step into them.
"This is sexy," the man said. Laura grinned as she pulled on the pants.
"You like?" the girl asked. "Let me put on a dress now."
Laura turned to look at the pants in the mirror, grinning. "These look pretty good," she thought. She turned and stood on her toes, pressing the fabric over her bottom. "Nice," she thought.
"What do you think?" the girl asked.
"That's great," the deeper voice replied.
Laura turned again, trying to decide. "The sweater clashes," she thought and pulled the brown wool over her head. She shook slightly with a sudden chill, jiggling the creamy flesh of her full breasts in their lace encasement.
"I like that a lot," he said. The girl squealed softly.
"Sit down and let me try another one," she ordered. Laura nodded to herself and took off the grey pants. "If you don't sit down, I'm going to scream for help."
"I'll tell them you dragged me in here."
"Who do you think they'll believe?" she asked gaily. "The big brute or the naked girl?"
"Depends on the jury," he said, his voice low, almost threatening.
Laura took down the skirt and stepped into it. The fabric squeezed her hips tightly as she shimmied the black cylinder up toward her waist. She wiggled as she worked into the snug hold. "I can't," Laura thought, grinning lewdly. "They're indecent."
"Wow," the man said. "You look great."
"You like?" she asked.
"Wow," he repeated.
Laura turned to look at herself from behind. "Naughty," she thought. She bent a little at the waist and caught a glimpse of her panties. "Tom would just die."
"Scott," the girl said, the words emphatic and muffled. "What are you...?"
Raising a curious eyebrow, Laura paused. She stood still and stared breathlessly at her own smiling reflection, waiting as the sound of restless motion behind the mirror grew serious. Listening attentively, Laura watched as her nipples tightened beneath the cream lace of her bra.
"Wait," the girl said. "Let me get..." Her words were interrupted by another jostling and the clang of a hanger.
"There," he said. "Now just..." The girl moaned sharply. Laura watched herself as she unconsciously lifted the hem of the black skirt and gently touched the crotch of her panties.
"Damn, Scott," the girl said between breaths, "your dick is so fucking big." Laura whimpered and pushed her fingers underneath the cream lace.
"You like that, don't you?" he growled. "You like my big dick?"
"Yes," the girl said, emphatically. "Give it to me."
Laura rubbed herself furiously, watching herself in the mirror, listening as flesh began to slap flesh in a steady rhythm. Laura opened her mouth as the electric shocks of excitement rippled through her, and she felt her knees go weak.
"Damn," the girl said, "fuck."
Laura pulled the black skirt up to her waist and pushed her panties down her thighs. Turning, she leaned back against the mirror, pushing her bare ass against the glass. The wall shuddered slightly with each fleshy smack from beyond. Feeling their fuck bouncing steadily against her, excitement poured from Laura's pussy, drenching her diddling fingers.
"Oh God," the girl moaned, "give me that cock."
"Give me that cock," Laura whispered.
"Aargh," bellowed the man, and the rhythm of his blows intensified and then broke. Laura breathed deeply, on fire with her excitement. The other room quieted with gentle murmurs and kisses and lightly squealed 'oohs'. Laura closed her eyes and finally pushed herself forward. Hiking up her panties, she smiled to see the half-moon imprint of her bottom on the glass. A shudder coursed her body, leaving Laura smiling wickedly.
She watched her reflection as she danced a few provocative turns in the tight, short skirt. "Too naughty," Laura said softly and, peeling off the skirt, she quickly dressed and left, leaving the navy blues and fashionable greys in a heap in the corner of the room.
The clerk at the register, a young dark-haired woman, stood behind the counter folding sweaters. Laura plopped the black skirt down with a delighted smile.
"I am so tired of winter," the clerk said, pushing aside the pile of thick knitted wool.
"I think spring will be here soon," said Laura, dreamily.
"Did you find everything you need?" asked the clerk.
"Absolutely not," said Laura, almost laughing, "but I have a good start."
"We have some new blazers on sale." The clerk folded the black skirt and found the price tag.
"Nope," said Laura. "I've got more casual shopping in mind."
"Can I put this on your Hechts card?"
"Sure," said Laura, suddenly distracted as a couple walked past the register. Her eyes fixed on the bulging crotch of the young man's jeans. "I'll take one of those," Laura said, almost to herself. The clerk smirked.
"I think we're out, but I can order one for you," the clerk said, her voice low. They laughed."What I really need is some new lingerie," said Laura.
"Ours is upstairs, to the right. If you want something, you know, spicy, go up to Rudolph's on the top floor over by Lechters. They have great stuff." The clerk winked.
"Yes," said Laura. "I think spring is on the way." She signed the draft and took her package. "Upstairs?"
"By Lechters and The Movie House."
"Thanks," said Laura. Walking saucily down the wide aisle, she stopped to feel the fabric of a low-cut black blouse. "Maybe I should try this on," Laura said, laughing to herself.
Malinov
<http://www.gslink.com/~dcain/xanadu/erotica/>
Power belongs to those who dare. . . Sapere Aude | 5 |
5,884 | Keri's request ch 2 | "Boy Meets Whore"
"You don't even cum?!? you ask. There had better be a reason..."
What a trip! It's about three to four hours of winding state highway up through the Cascade Mountains to reach the ski lodge. There are friends in cars in front and behind, music on the radio, and frequent stops to piss. But there's still hours of time to just talk with a girl you KNOW loves sex.
"Five bucks says she blows me on the ride up."
"You're on."
So I lost five bucks, but as Keri said later, "I should have just asked". What a girl! We talked about her reputation. So what if a girl just likes to fuck - don't the guys?!? Numbers of sex partners, different places, etc. She later said that all of our talking during the ride had made her so fucking horny. I had an inkling. Maybe it was the way she kept pressing her legs together and squirming in her seat, even though we had just had a potty break. So by the time we hit the lodge, we were both pretty worked up.
A few beers, a loaded, "you wanna take a walk outside?" and the next thing you know, her tongue is down my throat and my hands are up her shirt. The walk turned into a drive up into one of the deserted logging roads.
"Oh God! Yeah, yeah, yeah!"
I think I had found what she liked. After peeling off her sweater, pants and underwear in the steamy cab of my pickup, I stayed clothed and started to work on her body. I was in the passenger seat, half-lying back, and she was curled on my lap with her tits square in my face.
After a half-hour of slowly mauling her tits; first lightly sucking and kissing all over, then a more rough squeezing and pinching of one breast while I forced the nipple of the other breast against my upper teeth with my tongue, slowly grating it back and forth. By this time she is really bucking her hips.
My hand trails its way down her trim little runner's tummy, and my mouth along with it. While I tease her belly button with my tongue, one hand begins to knead her ass cheeks and thighs as the other continues to pinch and pull her nipple.
Finally, I start to work on her flooding pussy. My mouth returns to her tits, this time light and caressing, only little nips around the nipple, along the sides, underneath. She spreads her legs even farther when my fingers lightly trail around her thighs, softly sliding my fingernails across the inside, ever nearer. My left arm is under her, cradling her lower back and my hand is squeezing her tight little backside. My right hand is circling and circling her pussy lips. Now and again I let my fingers graze up that little channel made between her fat outer lips and the inside of her thigh. Never directly down the center of her cunt - never touching her clit. She shivers.
I make it worse. I leave the rest of her tit alone, concentrating on the nipple, again working it between my upper, front teeth and my tongue. I slowly apply pressure as my right hand's index and middle finger start to work up and down the far outside of her pussy. Every once in a while I roughly grab a pinch of her lips between my thumb and finger and pull it up and away from her while increasing the pressure on her nipple and causing pain. This is always replaced by slow, casual sucking and light strokes to the inside of her thighs.
"Please, please put your fingers in me. Please."
You want me in your life? Beg me, accept pain from me willingly, and do everything I command. Am I so hard to please? These three little acts are so basic to my nature. And here she was on step one so early...
A few more requests and I just had to oblige the lady. Slowly working two fingers up and down the lips of her pussy, I slowly flowered it open. Spreading it, I used two fingers to hold her open while my middle finger teased in and out, never passing the first knuckle. A little more begging, and well, you get the picture.
She finally came, and when I say cum, I mean CUM. She shook, cried out in gasps, and jerked her whole body as I worked her. My left arm was under her ass as my left hand worked her cunt. My index finger and pinky spread her wide open and my middle two fingers were in as deep as they could go. My right hand was busy between flicking her clit and then roughly pinching it. I was sucking her tits and biting them so hard she must have been sore for days (which she says she was).
Afterwards she couldn't stand more contact with her cunt. I would lightly blow across it once in a while and she would squeeze her eyes shut and push me away by my shoulders.
So what's in this for me? Nothing. Not even my pants came down.
But the hook went in... | 4 |
5,890 | The Trick And The Treat | "So when are you going to take these things off me?" Tonya asked in her sultry voice, displaying her handcuffed wrists to her husband as he drove their Toyota pick-up.
Grant smiled his lopsided, 'I-got-something-up-my-sleeve' smile, "I left the keys at home. . ."
"WHAT!" Tonya nearly shouted.
"I didn't think we would need them at the Halloween party tonight, Tonya-love, so I just didn't bring them," Her husband said, knowing full well that one of the pair of keys hung on his keychain.
"Great, what if we get pulled over or something, Grant?"
"Well, it'll save the officer time in cuffing you, huh?" Grant grinned, taking his eyes off the road briefly to look over at his wife in her Arabian harem-girl's costume and taking delight in how her rich, dark African skin complimented the reds and golds of her outfit.
Tonya just growled and sat back in her seat. Their costumes this Halloween had been her Grant's idea. He had dressed as the sultan Schariar and Tonya was dressed as his wife, the exotic Scheherazade. Tonya had spent many hours behind the sewing machine to create their costumes and by the stares they received at the party, their outfits were worth her efforts.
Grant's costume was a tapestry of whites, golds, and blues. His vest, which just covered his muscular chest, was done in white and embroidered with gold and blue thread and had glass jewels for buttons. His deep blue, billowy pants were held in place by a long white and gold sash in which he stuck a cheap scimitar he had bought. Tonya watched him and thought how wonderful her husband looked wearing it had decided he was worth her efforts also. It complimented his swarthy, Italian looks and his grinning blue eyes. He had even grown a Van Dyke beard for the occasion, making him look even more devilish.
Grant glanced over again at his wife. Tonya could see the boyish mischief in his eyes and crooked smile. She wondered what he was up to.
The handcuffs that she wore were not part of her plans for her costume. They were snapped on just before they went into the lobby. Grant just asked her to close her eyes and hold out her hands for a surprise he had for her. Tonya, of course, did and felt the cold manacles click around her wrists. She was very surprised and before she could utter a single word of protest, her husband just ushered her into the lobby filled with Halloween partiers that found the ballroom too noisy. Tonya was still fidgeting with her cuffs when Grant wrapped a leather collar around her neck and fastened it.
"Grant!" Tonya growled under her breath, "take these off NOW!"
"You don't want to make a scene, do you?" He grinned as he kissed her cheek, "you are supposed to be my harem slave. . ."
"WIFE, Jerry, Wife! Scheherazade was the sultan's wife, not prisoner," Tonya said, holding up her cuffed hands.
"A minor detail," he whispered, kissing her lightly behind her ear, "besides, it could be fun. Besides, all you have to say is our secret word . . ."
"But the collar. . ." Tonya's resistance to the handcuffs was dissipating as her thoughts of what they might do after the party flowed through her like a warm aphrodisiac.
"I need you to keep close to me, Tonya-love, I wouldn't want you to escape with another man now would I?"
Grant then snapped the chain lead onto Tonya's collar, pulled her toward him, and gave Tonya a deep, lingering kiss.
All during the party, that is how Tonya stayed, handcuffed and leashed. She learned quickly to gracefully drink her wine and hold her veil up at the same time. She also let Grant feed her the hors d'oeuvres from the buffet. Occasionally she would see herself in the long mirrors which graced the ballroom, a slim dark-skinned woman with long, raven tresses and a costume that did not leave much to a man's imagination. The handcuffs and collar added much to the sexual mystique of her character as Grant led her around and talked and joked with the other couples they knew. Even dancing slow, her husband embracing her as smoky jazz numbers swirled about the room as they swayed back and forth, the handcuffs sparking a forbidden kind of wantonness in Tonya that made her feel like the most desirable woman in the place.
The magic of the Halloween party seemed to drift with them into the parking lot and into their Toyota truck. Grant even helped his wife fasten her seatbelt.
Now, driving home, her hands still locked in front of her and the warm Florida winds caressing her skin even through the diaphanous silk of her costume, the erotic memories and fantasies of the evening seemed to keep her temper about Grant and the keys at a minimum. It was reckless of him, but also very daring in a sexual way. It was the thought of being like this, the danger of it, that somehow got Tonya's libido moving into high gear.
"I love you," She said, looking at his profile as he concentrated on the road ahead.
"A moment ago I thought you were going to trade me in on a better husband."
"I thought about it, but breaking a new one in would be a lot of work. I think I'll just keep my old, worn husband around. He's broken in and comfortable."
"Like your old bunny slippers at home?"
Tonya smiled, "Yes, like my old bunny slippers."
"Well this old, comfortable husband has cooked up a wonderful dessert just for you."
"So that was what you were doing in the kitchen while I was getting ready."
"Yep," he grinned, "fixing you up a gourmet delight."
"I don't know, Grant," Tonya said, "I had a lot to eat at the party and I need to keep an eye on my figure. . ."
"I'll love to keep an eye on that figure of yours tonight, Tonya-love. Besides, you WILL have to eat this dessert. I made it just for this evening."
"What is it?" Tonya asked, her curiosity piqued.
Grant smiled that same wicked smile, "You'll see soon enough. It's a surprise."
"I remember your last surprise," Tonya said with a smile, jingling her handcuffs.
The streets on their way home were empty save for a few cars passing them. Grant laid his hand on Tonya's thigh and let his fingers brush up and down it, gently caressing her leg as he did so often at home when he laid beside her in bed. Tonya knew Grant loved her long, lithe legs and she loved the attention they got from him.
Grant's fingers lightly traced little circles on Tonya's inner thigh and she unconsciously parted her legs as his fingers drew closer and closer to her silk-covered quim already damp from this evening's games. Tonya closed her eyes and let a little moan out as his fingers began to caress her sex through the silk.
Tonya's sounds of pleasure always turned Grant on. The more noise she made, the more driven he would become. Her moans were an aphrodisiac that he could not get enough of. Now, as he felt his wife's pussy slowly thrusting into his hand, he found it hard to concentrate on driving. It was with great reluctance that he withdrew his hand from between Tonya's legs.
"No, Grant, please?" his wife asked in a wounded voice.
"Soon, Tonya-love, soon. We're almost home."
It seemed like hours before they pulled into the parking lot of their townhome. The embers of bliss burning between her legs needed more attention, but Tonya was always uncomfortable pleasuring herself. Her mother had caught her once and the embarrassment of that moment had stuck with her to this day. Tonya needed the ministrations of a man's touch to get her off.
The parking lot was deserted save the darkened cars that filled it. Grant pulled their pick-up right underneath one of the parking lot lights and switched off the engine. He took his time, methodically turning off the headlights, setting the parking brake and easing his seatbelt off, letting Tonya's anticipation fan the desire that Grant knew was smoking inside her.
Grant took his time going around the side to open Tonya's door. He was constantly amazed by this woman; his wife. The cards had been stacked against them. He could still hear his mother warning him that mixed marriages don't work and that it wouldn't last a year. From what Tonya said, her parents felt the same way. It took time, but the love and passion they held for each other won over both of their families. They had now been married five wonderful years and the flame had not died.
Tonya was a bank teller when Grant had met her. He would go in daily to make deposits for his small vacuum-cleaner business and he would always make sure Tonya was his teller, even if she wasn't attending the commercial accounts counter.After some time, Grant finally asked her out, and Tonya agreed. It was a wonderful evening of pasta, wine, and dancing, and by the time Grant kissed her goodnight, he knew he would marry her.
"Come on, Grant," Tonya complained, then in a hushed voice only Grant could hear, she said, "I want you."
Grant leaned forward and kissed her lightly through the open window before opening her door and unfastening her seatbelt. Tonya could have done that, but she wanted to feel her husband's hands on her as he unbuckled her out of her seat and helped her out.
Tonya still had her leather collar on, as well as the chain lead dangling from it. After Grant held his wife out of the car, he nabbed the chain and pulled his wife towards him, put his arms around her, and kissed her deeply.
After a moment, Grant felt his wife pull away a bit.
"Why don't we continue this inside," she whispered.
Grant grinned and led his still-bound wife through the parking lot to the door of their townhouse on the other side. Amazingly, they found their carved pumpkin still intact, and its eerie, orangish eyes were still scrying any trick-or-treaters that may have tried their door. Grant took his time finding the right key and opening the door, just as he had in the truck. But soon, the lights to their home were clicked on, and Grant was leading his wife toward their kitchen.
"Ready for dessert?" He asked Tonya.
"I was hoping for a large appetizer first. . ." Tonya trailed off.
"Soon enough, Tonya-love, soon enough."
Grant clicked on the kitchen light, and Tonya saw that her husband had been busy while she was getting ready for the party. One of their kitchen chairs had been placed in the center of the room, and lying beside it in neat piles were several coils of rope.
"I see that I am going to be your captive for a bit longer now, hon."
"Uh-huh," he said, pulled his wife towards himself by her lead, and embraced her tightly.
Their lips met, and their kisses were slow and tender at first, but soon their tongues started their heat dance of passion around each other. Tonya's manacled hands began to caress her husband's chest, easing underneath his vest. She could feel his erection against her thigh as she began rubbing herself against him seductively, enjoying the attention his warm hands were giving her.
Grant's hands explored her curves beneath the mist-like silks of her costume; the small of her back, the curve of her hip, the swell of her breasts. His thumbs played with her now stiff nipples through the thin fabric, sending little whirlwinds of pleasure to fan the wanton embers already glowing in her womb. Soon, his fingers untied the knot holding the front of her halter together, and his warm hands cupped and kneaded her breasts until little purring moans escaped her lips.
Her husband's kisses left Tonya's lips as he kissed her neck and played at her earrings with his teeth and tongue. Grant's lips moved lower down her neck and started between her breasts. Tonya lifted her cuffed hands over his head and cradled the back of it with her confined hands. His tongue and lips began to kiss between her breasts as his fingers began to pull at Tonya's dark nipples.
Grant's kisses travelled still lower as his hands now settled on her hips and began to play with the straps of her bikini, slowly pulling it down, inch by inch, until the black curls of her nest were revealed.
"Now I think you are ready for a treat this Halloween," Grant said, helping his wife step out of her bikini and pantaloons.
Her husband led Tonya to their oaken kitchen chair and helped her get seated. Her chocolate-colored skin now glistened as if her body was made of polished walnut wood. Grant admired her physique as he looped the soft nylon rope around Tonya's slim ankles and bound each to the back legs of the chair. This made his wife sit on the edge of the chair, her dark nest open and her natural incense beckoning to Grant like opium to an addict. His wife's thrusting movements towards him did not help either. It took a lot of will to not take his wife right then and continue with their Halloween bondage game he had planned for weeks.
Tonya was comfortable with their bondage games that Grant sprinkled into the love-making to keep things all the more passionate. When Grant tied each of her slim ankles to the back legs of the chair, she felt as if some gasoline had been dumped onto her inner fires. Her sex was now open to him to do as he pleased as she sat on the edge of her chair. As much as she tried to get him to pay attention to her down there, Grant would not oblige and continued to bind her so that she was more and more helpless.
"So what IS my Treat, hon?" she asked in her most sultry voice.
"Oh, something I whipped up," he replied as he raised Tonya's manacled hands over the top of her head and back, tying them off to the backrest, "Comfy?"
"I wouldn't call it that," she squirmed a bit, as much for him as for herself, "but I'll let you know if it starts to get too uncomfortable."
"Good," he kissed her lightly on the forehead and disappeared behind her.
Tonya heard her husband rattling around in the refrigerator. She thought she heard the moving of the ice-cube tray in the freezer, but she wasn't sure. She tried to look back at him, but the way she was tied, she couldn't crane her head back far enough to look at what he was doing.
"I think this is going to be more a trick than a treat," Tonya said, hearing her husband turn on the water in the sink.
"I think you'll like this. Now close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you."
"I don't know if I want to. I remember what happened the last time you asked me to shut my eyes."
"I could always blindfold you. . ."
"Okay, okay, they're closed!"
Tonya heard her husband walk around in front of her. She could smell his after-shave and something sweet and tropical. But nothing happened. Tonya knew her husband was just waiting for her to open her eyes without being told to, and she knew she wouldn't do it. She also knew Grant was taking his time and admiring her helpless form, so she struggled a bit, hoping her gyrations would prompt him into getting on with his treat so they could get on to other things in the bedroom.
"Open wide," Tonya's husband asked, and she did.
The cold didn't come quite as a shock, having heard the ice-cube tray being rattled, but it was a bit of a surprise. She wasn't expecting a popsicle. She ran her tongue over it, delighting in the Pina-Colada flavors that washed through her mouth. As her lips and tongue explored her treat, she realized that he had carved it into a phallus, and she began treating it as such; sucking and licking it as if it were her husband.
"Do you like your treat?" Grant asked.
"MMMMmmmmmm," she purred.
"You're going to have to finish it all if you want me to get you out of your bind, Tonya-love. I froze the key into your treat. . ."
"What!" Tonya's eyes flew open.
"I didn't tell you could open your eyes yet, darling," Tonya's husband chided, "now I am going to have to blindfold you. . ."
"Did you really freeze the key in there?" she asked.
"Yes, I did, but it is attached to the stick so you couldn't choke on it or anything. You're going to have to lick and suck your way free, Tonya-love."
"You're an evil man, you know that, Grant Belzano."
"It was the woman I married that drove me to it," he replied, taking off his red silk sash to use it as a blindfold.
Tonya accepted the blindfold without any fuss. In fact, she enjoyed being blindfolded. It seemed to heighten her other senses and made her husband's attentions that much more pleasurable.
Again, Grant fed her the large popsicle. His wife's full lips engulfed its frozen shaft hungrily, slowly drawing it out of her mouth until she could only lick the tip. He teased her with it, letting her lick at it several times before pulling it away, only to bring it back to her lips.
It did not take Grant long to pull up a chair opposite his wife so he could be comfortable while watching his wife enjoy his 'treat'.
Tonya loved Pina-Coladas, and the sweet, tropical flavors trickled down her tongue with every lick she could get. Her husband continued to tease her with it, taking it away so her tongue would only caress empty air.
Tonya then felt the cold kiss of her treat on her right nipple. It was already agonizingly stiff from her imaginations and fantasies about what Grant would do to her next, and the cold of the popsicle made her awareness of its stiffness that much more. She could feel him slowly trace the dessert slowly over her one areola, then the other, until the painful bliss of it made her squirm involuntarily in her bonds.
Then Grant leaned over and took one into his mouth. The heat and raspiness of his tongue and the nibbles of his teeth upon her nipple soon sent her inner fires raging; not out of control, but very nearly so. He repeated the performance on her other nipple.
"Fuck me," Tonya said in an erotic haze, "I want you NOW."
She felt the cold kiss of the popsicle press against her sex, causing her to buck away.
"NO!" she squealed, but her husband continued to tease her swollen lips with the frozen confection.
"Now Tonya-love, how am I going to give you a treat if you don't perform a trick or two?" Tonya heard her husband say as she felt her husband's hand spread her moistened lips and reveal her swollen clit.
"No," she repeated, writhing in her bonds.
The frozen touch of the phallic popsicle upon her clit drove her over the edge as he rubbed the dessert over it. Her mind was a whirlpool of fiery pleasure as her passions overwhelmed her. Her body bucked, and she screamed her ecstasies.If she weren't tied to the chair, she thought briefly, she would have fallen off.
It was a minute or so before she realized that he had stopped caressing her sex and had brought the dessert back up to her lips. She sucked at it hungrily, her lips engulfing the shaft.
Grant then let go after the popsicle was firmly between her lips.
"Uuhmmmm?" Tonya questioned.
"Just hold on one second, honey," her husband replied.
Tonya felt the popsicle press into her mouth as Grant tied a ribbon to its stick, then around Tonya's head, effectively gagging her with it.
"Errannn," she pleaded into her strange gag.
"What, Tonya-love, I can't understand you," he whispered as he began anew on her breasts, kneading them and softly pinching her dark nipples. "If you need to be untied, Tonya, you know the magic hum."
Tonya indeed knew their magic hum, but the popsicle gag was not uncomfortable yet, just unexpected. She could suck at its sweetness, but she had to think about it, for Grant's attentions elsewhere distracted her wonderfully. She could also feel the popsicle's juices running down the sides of her mouth, over her chin. Grant saw this too and licked her chin clean, though a bit dripped onto her chest.
Her husband's kisses soon trailed down between her ample breasts and over her stone-smooth stomach where his tongue tickled the edges of her navel. Tonya's desires began to flare again, the fire never really out. Her hips started to rock, and Grant had to hold onto her hips to settle her while his kisses continued downward.
Then Grant stopped.
"UUUHHHH?" Tonya questioned through her popsicle gag.
Grant didn't say a word as he undressed, watching his wife's dark, curvaceous form squirm in her bonds as she mewled behind her gag. The juice of the popsicle was now trickling down from her mouth and over her breasts. Her skin now glistened like polished walnut, and the black curls of her nest were damp with her need. Tonya bucked her hips shamelessly, wanting him to finish what he had started within her.
After a bit, Grant took pity on his wife and began massaging her nipples again. This time, he barely touched them; just slightly brushing his fingers over them and letting her desire do the rest.
By this time, Tonya was nearly mad with lust. She felt like a wanton slut, willing to do anything just so she could feel her husband's attentions. However, all he would do is caress here and there, just enough to turn up the flames within her, then stop. She squirmed and pleaded and did everything that she could do while being bound as she was, but it did little to alleviate the itch she needed to have scratched.
She then heard him setting something down, something heavy and wooden from the sound of it.
"Hold on, Tonya-love," he whispered in her ear, "I am going to lift you up so I can pay a little bit more attention to you."
Grant grabbed the back of Tonya's chair and lifted it up on the wooden dais he had made a few weeks back. There was a shallow hole for each leg, and the chair settled in them at just the right height so he could position himself between his wife's open legs.
Tonya felt the head of her husband's penis prodding at her moistened lips, and she wiggled the best she could to try and impale herself upon it, but her bindings were too strict. With her butt on the edge of the chair, she knew all he had to do was lean forward and thrust into her, but again he just teased her.
"I'm going to jack-off now. I hope you don't mind," her husband told Tonya.
"NNNNUHHHH!" she yelled into her frozen gag, "Uhhh-uuhhh."
But Grant did, his hand grasping his shaft and moving up and down, his swollen head tickled by the moist curls of her nest. He wanted to come so badly, but he wanted to tease his wife just a little longer.
Just when she didn't think she could stand it much longer, she felt her husband's cock plunge into her and begin ramming into her like a demon. The flames of her pleasure turned into a whirlwind of fiery passion, and she lost herself in the frenzy of bliss. She bucked and screamed and fought against her bonds as she felt her husband's cum squirt into her, setting off another violent orgasm within her.
Then, slowly, he withdrew from her. Her popsicle gag had fallen out, having mostly melted. She was still blindfolded as Grant untied her ankles and the rope to her manacles. She was still shaky.
"When are you going to take these things off me?" she asked again in a sultry voice, displaying her manacled wrists.
Grant kissed her forehead and helped her out of the chair, "I think you need to finish your treat in the bedroom this time." | 4 |
5,896 | Caught in the Act (Part 1) | "OH, SHIT!" Susana pushed at Peter's chest, bucked her hips in a futile attempt to throw him off. She hadn't heard the car — not surprising in view of the crashing intensity of the orgasm from which she had only just recovered — but in the afterglow, she heard the "snick" of her husband's key in the security gate lock, and the rattle of the latch as he opened the front door. "Get OFF," she hissed. "It's Neil. The bastard's come home a day early."
Peter, on the verge of climax, was incapable of rational response. His eyes were glazed, unfocused, his face contorted into a mask of mindless purpose which at any other time Susana would have found hilarious, and his pile-driving prick hammered remorselessly at her still-palpitating pussy. The tail was wagging the dog, and nature was just going to have to take its course.
Susana shoved again, bucked again. "Get OFF." It was no use. Her senses keyed to almost supernatural levels, she heard Neil dump his suitcase on the floor in the hall and kick off his shoes, then lock the gate and close the door. "Surprise," he called. "It's me." Even that didn't get through to Peter. She felt him tense, break stroke, but only in response to a higher urgency than a soon-to-be-outraged husband's voice. He gasped, shoved, gasped, shoved, cursed, shoved, shuddered, shoved, and in spite of her predicament Susana climaxed again, clawing at the sheets, whimpering and thrashing her head from side to side as his plunging cock exploded inside her.
As the fog cleared, she looked towards the bedroom door. It was open — it had been open all along — and Neil was standing just inside it, his face unreadable and a bunch of flowers in his hand. Even at such a moment, he could attempt a feeble joke. "Hi honey," he said tonelessly. "I'm home."
Peter's head snapped round, his eyes widened in disbelief and he jerked himself out of her, rolled off the bed and stood hunched in shock, his hands clutched in front of his privates. He looked ridiculous. Allowing for exaggeration, he was twice Neil's size, and here he was cringing as if he was about to be beaten to a pulp. Susana stifled a giggle, waved a hand helplessly. For almost the first time in her life, she couldn't think of anything to say. She took refuge in formality. "This is Neil," she said to no one in particular. "Neil, this is Peter."
Peter scrabbled on the floor for his underpants, turned away from Neil and pulled them on. His shrinking dick wept a final dribble of sperm, leaving a spreading wet spot.
"Get out." Neil spoke quietly, but there was an edge to his voice that Susana had never heard before, and she wondered whether she ought to be frightened. He was looking at her, but when he spoke again it was obvious his words were directed at Peter. "Get out," he said. "I want to speak to my wife."
Peter reached for his trousers and Neil hissed at him. "Leave them there," he said. "I don't want you running away. Just get your arse into the living room. I'll talk to you later — when I've finished with this one." Peter edged past him, his big frame strangely shrunken, both hands covering his crotch as if he expected Neil — weedy little Neil! — to lash out suddenly and kick him in the balls. Neil didn't even look at him. "Shut the door on your way out," he said, and Peter backed into the living room, obediently pulling the door shut behind him.
Neil stepped to the side of the bed, stood looking down at her, then laid the flowers between her breasts. Like lilies on the chest of a corpse, she thought in alarm. Quickly, she shoved the thought aside, tried to brazen it out. "Thank you," she said, and batted her eyelashes at him. "Shut up, slut." He raised a hand as if to strike her, then snatched the flowers away and threw them on the floor behind him. His eyes reflected pain, and anger, and something else that Susana couldn't quite identify. "Bitch," he said. Where Susana came from it meant whore, the cheapest kind of whore, and under any other circumstances she would have leapt to her feet and tried to scratch his eyes out. Instead she simply lay there, not daring to move, even to bring her knees together, accepting the worst insult he could heap on her. She was acutely conscious of the perspiration — hers and Peter's — still mottling her breasts and belly, and of the even more copious evidence of their coupling trickling out of her cunt and on to the sheet between her widespread thighs.
As if he read her thoughts, Neil leaned over and slipped the middle finger of his right hand deep into her unresisting pussy. He drew it out, wet and glistening, examined it for a moment and then held it in front of her face. "Bitch," he said again, and still she did not react. He wiped his finger on her cheek, trailed his hand down her body and probed again into her cunt. "Fucking bitch." Again he withdrew his exploring finger, held it up for her to inspect, then carefully smeared her lips with the slimy essence of her treachery.
Susana studied his face, alert to every tiny nuance of expression. His mouth was set in a dead-straight line, except for a tiny tic tugging at the left corner, and his nostrils were flared. His burning eyes searched her body, came back to her lips, still puffy from her recent passion and now plastered liberally with sperm and her own natural juices. Tentatively, she parted her lips a fraction and licked a tiny curd of cum from the left side of her mouth. Neil's eyes widened, then narrowed, and his breathing quickened. "That's right, bitch," he said, and now the menace in his voice was overlaid with a rising note of urgency. "That's right. Lap it up."
She opened her mouth a little wider and dabbed at her top lip with her tongue, then slowly and methodically, watching his face the whole time, licked herself clean.
When she'd finished, he groped again between her legs. Without taking his eyes off her face, he screwed three fingers into her cunt and rummaged about for several seconds. Peter always came in quarts, and her pussy was positively awash. She raised her head to watch as Neil withdrew his hand. His fingers were dripping with the leftovers of love, pearly threads and three or four great glistening gobs of it. Her head flopped back on the pillow as he brought up his hand and poised it palm-up over her face. "Open up," he said. She opened her mouth, poked her tongue out over her lower lip, and he turned his hand palm-down and dipped his fingers to the vertical. The stuff of life dripped gluily on to her tongue and slid into her mouth, and she gulped it down, then licked and sucked the sticky residue from his fingers as he presented them to her one by one.
He straightened up, eyed her speculatively for a moment, then stepped around to the end of the bed and stood staring at her weeping cunt. Slowly, almost absently, he unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it free of the waistband of his trousers, peeled it off and tossed it towards the dirty-clothes basket. It missed. He unbuckled his belt, pulled it out of its loops, and dangled it like a whip. Self-preservation leapt to the fore and Susana snapped her knees together, then swiftly drew her feet up towards her buttocks. Neil reacted just as swiftly. He let go of the belt, dropped on to the end of the bed, and wrenched her legs apart. She struggled for an instant, then decided resistance was only going to fuel his anger, and went limp. Feet together and knees spread wide, she felt like a frog pinned down for dissection in a high school biology lab. Somehow, perversely, that thought excited her and her nipples sprang erect.
Neil took his hands from her knees and backed off the bed. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily.He unzipped his fly, unhooked the waistband of his trousers and let them fall, then slipped his underpants down his legs, bent over and worked his feet free of both garments. Susana, watching him warily through the flattened vee of her splayed thighs, licked her lips involuntarily as he straightened up and revealed the full extent of his arousal.
Normally, these days, it took some serious foreplay — licking, sucking and stroking — to get him fully erect and ready to roll. Yet now, totally untouched by human hands, his cock sprang proud from the base of his belly, its single eye staring defiantly skywards as if searching the ceiling.
There had been a lunchroom legend, before she married him almost 11 years ago, that he couldn't fuck — that he fainted every time he got a hard-on because his dick drained all the blood out of his brain. A prick of truly mind-blowing proportions, as one wit put it. It wasn't THAT big, but it was certainly more than adequate, and for a long time after the first time Susana couldn't get enough of it. Well, that wasn't quite true either — for the first year or so they were at it three or four times a day, often for hours at a stretch, and when they weren't doing it they were both thinking about doing it. How he managed to hold down a responsible job while all that was going on was still a mystery.
She had been an 18-year-old virgin when Neil came into her life, her only previous sexual experience a wide-eyed handjob on a pushy young workmate named Alipate, who lured her into his flat on some forgotten pretext and then took off his pants and wouldn't let her leave until she had "fixed" him. It had been quick, and messy, and in retrospect only mildly interesting, and she had kept well clear of him after that.
Neil was almost exactly twice her age, and she had been frightened rather than flattered when he first began showering his attentions on her. But he made her laugh, and in spite of her friends' dire warnings (or perhaps because of them) she started going out with him. Simple, innocuous dates — nothing that would keep her out beyond the curfew set by her traditionalist father, nothing that would lead her down the shameful path to dishonor about which the nuns at St Peter's had been so fond of talking. Just sandwich lunches in the park three or four times a week, quick dinners in the Korner Kaff on nights she had to work late, and once an afternoon at the football.
Right at the outset, he told her he intended to marry her, but marriage was still a long way in her future and she didn't take him seriously. He wooed her with flowers and silly presents — a rubber duck (?), a strange kaftan-type dress which she gave to her mother (telling her it was a present from an overseas pen-friend) and the one which finally did the trick, a fur-covered pillow in the shape of an enormously fat, brown sea-lion (she loved it dearly from the start and even today, more than a decade later, she pulled it out of the closet occasionally when she felt in need of comfort). Unlike the boys against whose crude advances she was constantly on guard, he never grabbed at her and he never tried to ply her with liquor. They'd hold hands, and he'd kiss her lightly on the forehead when he dropped her off down the street from her home, and that was all. Pretty soon, she realised it wasn't enough.
On the Saturday afternoon three weeks after their first date she turned up at his house uninvited, unannounced and alone, and fell into his arms. Barely 10 minutes later, without knowing quite how she got there or how she came to be naked, she was writhing in astonished ecstasy on his bed with his tongue in her virgin pussy and his burgeoning cock throbbing hotly against her shoulder.
He didn't lose consciousness as rumored, but he didn't actually fuck her, either, in spite of her willingness to yield up her hymen to him right there and then. It was a willingness she made perfectly obvious when he came up for air and lay beside her, gently teasing her nipples with his fingers. She pulled him over on top of her, groped for his cock and tried inexpertly to maneuver it between the lips of her cunt. He rolled off. Susana was puzzled. Everyone knew that all men wanted was to put their thing into your thing and wiggle it about. Was there something wrong with her? He laughed, hugged her tightly and kissed her, his mouth fragrant with the spoils of cunnilingual congress. He didn't, he said quaintly, want to "defile" her. Then he licked his way back down her body and ducked his head once more between her legs.
Susana thought she'd died and gone to heaven. The world fell away beneath her, and she was just a few square centimetres of quivering flesh and a bundle of nerve-endings, which sprouted wings and flew her higher, higher, dragging a kaleidoscope of colors behind them until she broke through the roof of the sky into inky blackness and exploded in shower after shower of silver sparks.
As she fluttered back to earth she became aware that he was once again stretched out on his back beside her, his left arm beneath her shoulders. She rolled towards him and flung her own left arm across his chest. What did he mean, he didn't want to "defile" her? He licked her ear, launched into a long and confusing explanation that boiled down to not wanting to pop her cherry unless she was willing to give him not just her body but also her soul. It came across as pompous rubbish, but she realised he was saying, like her mother and the nuns at St Peter's, that her virginity was something to be guarded jealously until she was safely married. It was only then that she realised how serious he was about marrying her, and in that moment she discovered also that she loved him.
She kissed him, snuggled her head on his chest and studied the foreshortened view of his cock lying quietly on his belly like a beached eel, its tip reaching to within a couple of centimetres of his navel. She tiptoed her fingers down his body, and stroked it lightly. It shook itself awake, its head swelled visibly, and it rose up and winked at her.
Neil slipped his hand beneath her armpit and cupped her left breast, and she circled his prick with her fingers and made the milking motions the obnoxious Alipate had taught her. Neil groaned and squeezed gently on her breast, then began kneading her nipple lightly between his middle and ring fingers. "Yes," he breathed. "Oh yes, love, do that."
His cock was hot and hard, and it stiffened and swelled even more as she tugged and squeezed. Susana sat up, knelt beside him and watched his face as she worked on him. His eyes were closed and his tongue showed through parted lips. "Yes," he said again. "Oh, yes. Do it. I love it. I need it. Do it."
He opened his eyes and she was shocked and excited to see the helpless pleading in them. He reached up a hand and caressed her cheek, then her throat, then dropped it lower and stroked her breast. Her nipple stiffened again to his touch.
Both of them were breathing heavily now. Susana wrapped both hands around his cock and pumped faster. He was gasping, jerking his hips in time with her stroking, and his cock was growing huge.
Susana licked her lips, watched fascinated as its rosy tip emerged, disappeared, then re-emerged from between her circling fingers. "Yes," he gasped. "Oh, yes. Pump me. It feels so good. Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, yes."
His left hand was busy rubbing, stroking and squeezing her nipple, the fingers straying every so often to caress the firmly contoured faces of her breast. Then he raised it to her mouth and pressed his thumb against her lips. Susana allowed it partway into her mouth, bit gently on it and teased it with her tongue. She tore her gaze from his cock, turned her head and looked directly into his eyes.
As if that was the signal he had been waiting for, he raised his hips towards her and forced his cock further into her hands. "Now," he said. "Now. Make me come. Now. Yes. Now. Yes. Now. Now. Now."
He was shaking his head in ecstasy, his cock burned and throbbed, and she gripped him still tighter, sensing the pressure building inside him. Suddenly he screamed softly, his hips jerked upward, and his juice spurted out of him, arcing into the air and splashing back over her hands. She kept pumping and there was another jet of sperm over his belly, then another, then a slow dribble that dripped stickily through her fingers.
He lifted her hands from his prick, raised them to his lips, and kissed the tips of her fingers. "Clever hands," he whispered. "So clever." He let go of them, sat up and put his arms around her, then kissed her softly on the forehead, the eyes, the nose and, finally, the lips.
He pulled up a corner of the sheet, wiped her hands with it, then leaned back while, giggling, she mopped up the mess on his belly and in his pubic hair. Then he had her lie face down on the bed and sat beside her, tracing a zigzag path with his fingers from the nape of her neck, down her back, over her buttocks and down the backs of her legs to her feet, and up again between her legs to the warm-wet sweetness of her most secret place.
He turned her over, traced the same kind of path with his lips from throat to nipples, across her belly and further down, and she spread her legs and moaned as he dipped his head between them and slipped his tongue again into her pussy.
After a while he raised his head, licked his way back up her body and kissed her on the lips. Susana shuddered as his probing fingers found another love-button. "Lick me some more," she whispered. "Please. Do me more." She put a hand on his head, urged it down her body, shuddered again as his tongue slipped into her crack, slithered over her clitoris and stabbed at the half-sealed entrance to her vagina.She closed her eyes, and her legs twitched while a series of near-electric shocks passed through her body.
As the pressure built within her, Susana reached for him, her fingers caressing his back, his belly, then circling his now-flaccid prick, tugging insistently until he moved over her, his tongue still flicking at her quivering clitoris, his knees to either side of her head and his cock hanging directly over her face.
She poked out her tongue and licked him, tasting the drying sperm on the tip of his cock. Then she flung her arms around his back and suddenly, somehow, it was in her mouth.
Older, worldly-wise girlfriends had talked about this, giggling, nudging each other and slyly watching her reactions. The very idea had repelled her. Now, however, it seemed perfectly natural, and she cuddled tighter, lifting her head off the bed and purring with passion as his prick began to stiffen again between her lips.
He moaned, and a fresh thrill swept through her body as his tongue stabbed at her cunt and his bottom lip vibrated against her clitoris. He began to hump his hips, fucking her face, and she worked eagerly on him, guided by instinct, licking, pressing and sucking. Then he was rolling over, his own lips and tongue still busy between her legs as he flopped on to his back and pulled her on top of him.
Susana lifted her head off his cock, moved so that she was kneeling astride his chest, and pushed her crotch at his face. "Do more," she said, and gasped as he spread the lips of her cunt with his thumbs and began nipping at the burning bud of her clitoris. His tool jerked and flopped against his belly, and she leaned forward and once again slurped it into her mouth.
Now that she was in control she began to experiment, raising her head so that only the very tip was between her lips, teasing with her tongue, then slowly working her way down the shaft until her mouth was full of him. Up, down, in, out, and all the time his prick seemed to be growing harder and bigger, longer and thicker, and his tongue lapping at her cunt was causing tiny shockwaves that seemed to run right through her body and burst in sparks behind her eyeballs.
Up, down, in, out, faster, deeper. He began to writhe beneath her, and she found herself shaking uncontrollably as he pressed his face harder into her cunt, his cunning tongue jabbing, probing, stabbing, sliding sensuously over every surface and into every crevice.
Up, down, up, down, her busy lips and tongue on autopilot now and all of her conscious attention centered on the fire Neil was stoking in her crotch.
Then she was coming, and she pressed back hard into his face as the shocks merged into a blinding flash of silver sparks in her head. She cried out, the sound smothered by the rigid pole of flesh in her mouth, as wave after giant wave of orgasm reared up, broke, and came crashing down on the sunswept beach of her body.
When she regained her senses he was still licking at her, his tongue slithering up and down her crack and stabbing at her swollen clit. His cock was still in her mouth, and now he was humping his hips, heaving himself up to drive deeper and deeper on every one of her downstrokes.
Suddenly he tensed, and somehow his cock seemed to swell even more, stretching her lips to the limit and boring even deeper into her mouth.
Up, down, up, down, and he threw his arms over her buttocks, cuddled her tight and thrashed his head from side to side in her crotch. His cock jerked once, twice, and then exploded, flooding her mouth with warm, salty fluid. Susana choked, swallowed, and went on sucking. There was more sperm, a strange mixture of faint, indefinable flavors that numbed her mouth, and she swallowed again, pulling at his twitching tool with her lips and tongue to milk him dry.
He moaned with pleasure, plunged his tongue once again into her pussy and they came together, clinging tightly to each other and thrashing about on the bed until neither of them had any more to give.
Finally, she rolled off and lay panting on her back. Neil sat up, turned around and lay beside her. He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders and pulled her to him. They kissed, then slept.
Three days later, at lunch in the park with people all around them, he went down on his knees at her feet and formally asked her to marry him. The little box he proffered turned out to contain what may have been the smallest solitaire diamond ever set in a ring, and she thought it the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever seen. She wore it proudly back to the office, and no one dared comment on the size of the stone. Nor, ever again, did any of them say anything — at least in front of her — about the supposed size of Neil's equipment.
Her parents were horrified. In accordance with custom she had been "promised" to a remote cousin since she was 14. That was not a real problem — the promise could be broken without shame, and in any case he wouldn't want her if she was no longer a virgin. They couldn't believe she was still intacta, and she had to submit to examination by her grandmother. The result of the examination mollified her father a little. What was more worrying was Neil's age (he was actually three or four months older than Susana's mother), the fact that she had kept his existence secret from them, and the Really Big Issue — he was white!
They discussed it for two days, during which she wasn't allowed to leave the house, and were no closer to agreement when Neil turned up and brought the whole thing to a head. Everyone — brothers, sisters, grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins — crowded into the house to watch and listen as he asked her father for her hand in marriage. He answered all their questions politely, quietly and confidently. In a little more than an hour and a half he had won them over and Susana didn't even have to play her trump card — that she would get pregnant and then they would HAVE to let her marry him.
After their betrothal feast the following weekend, she moved in with him. That was entirely her idea — Neil was willing to wait, months if necessary, until they were properly married, but Susana wanted it all and she wanted it NOW. The last guest was barely out the door before she dragged him to bed and literally overpowered him with the full force of her instinctive, driving sexuality. She cried out more in triumph than in pain when he deflowered her, and they fucked until dawn, then slept for four hours and started again.
Hours later, as she lay bathed in sweat in the crook of his arm and toyed absently with his exhausted tool, he wanted to know if she was really sure. After all, he said, she was very young and he was her first love. For himself, he said, he had no doubts at all, but he would understand if she wanted to hold off on marriage for a while, play the dating game and maybe taste the fruit in someone else's garden before taking the final step. She kissed him to shut him up, told him not to be silly, swore eternal love and slithered down the bed to lick him back into shape.
They fucked again. Afterwards he held her face in his hands and looked earnestly into her eyes, vowed that in spite of his notorious past she was now and forever hence the only woman in his life, but that he fully expected her eventually to develop an itch for a younger lover. She protested, and he hushed her with a kiss. In 10 years or so, he said, he'd be pushing 50 and she'd be regretting not having sown her wild oats. When that happened, he said, as he was sure it would, he hoped she would trust him enough to tell him, and not go sneaking around behind his back. That, he said, was what had killed his first marriage — he could have handled the infidelity but he couldn't stomach the lies.
Susana cuddled him, told him he was talking twaddle, and soothed him to sleep. They were married three weeks later and she had been faithful to him ever since.
Until Peter . . . | 5 |
5,917 | A Change of Direction: An Alternative Ending to Mike Allegretto's and CaitlinB's Change of Pace | "I'm not going to be pulled in just because you were!" Jacqueline stared icily. "I want to learn what I have to know as quickly as possible. I don't want to be female a month longer than I have to!"
"That's your choice," Laurie conceded. "But you won't like some of the lessons required, especially if you really want to take them immediately."
"Just as long as it can really be over and done with in a year," Jacqueline seethed. "You had better not have been lying about that."
"Now Jacqueline, I never lied to Jack, and I won't lie to you. It can most assuredly be done in a single year," Laurie assured her daughter.
Of course, Laurie added to herself. You'll have to acclimate very quickly, since the most intricate portion of the Transformation Spell can only be learned while in the delivery room, and the final nuances while nursing your newborn.
"I don't believe you," was Jack's cold reply. Laurie's eyes slued to her Transformed son. "That book proves you lied to me. By omission, certainly, and by making promises you did not intend to keep. You never intended to return me to normal."
Anger sparked in Laurie's eyes. "I beg to differ, young lady. If you had asked to end the Transformation, it would have ended. Now it is beyond my power to reverse it."
The bleak lack of any emotion in her child's response chilled Laurie's soul."Perhaps, but you have a world of history on your side," Jack lifted the album to her, "to prove that, without beforehand knowledge, the Transformed person is not going to make that decision because the full ramifications have been left... intentionally unclear?"
Laurie pursed her lips and refused to answer. "How long, Mother? How long has this... this abomination been inflicted on the men of our family? And how could you do it to me? And why should I believe you when you say that it is beyond your power?"
"ABOMINATION?" Laurie's temper was back in full measure. "How dare you call it that? It is a gift! A wonderful gift, and you will damn well learn and accept that basic truth if you want any hope of returning to your pitiful male existence. I *love* you, and I will not have *you* say or think otherwise. I loved Jack enough to give him these gifts of magic and womanhood because I have had both and wanted to share them with the son I love."
"Forgive me, Mother, if I don't share your enthusiasm for these... gifts." The disgusted look on Jack's face left no doubt of what he had wanted to say about those gifts. "And you did not answer my question, Mother, so I will answer it. Too long. This unwilling Transformation stunt has been going on for so long that you fail to see the wrong you have done to me, your son. Well, it ends here and now. I will be the last of our family."
"What?" Laurie's head snapped up. "What did you say?"
"I won't perpetuate this horror myself nor will I permit it to be perpetuated on any child of mine. I will not even bring a child into a world where you consider it *your* unequivocal right to take away that child's life and dreams because *you* think you know better."
Laurie went very still, the full import of what her child had just said shocked her into speechlessness. This was not going at all well and certainly not as it had gone with her own mother nor as Mum had told her it had gone with all the previous generations of her family. Had she done something wrong in casting her spell? Had she missed some key element of the enchantment that would have made Jacqueline more able to accept and enjoy her new situation? Choosing her words very carefully, she tried a more conciliatory tact. "You would deny me a grandchild to love?"
It did not work. "It ends with me, Mother."
"But you have already tasted the power of your femininity, and of your new sexuality. Before you can learn enough magic to change yourself back you may well end up pregnant."
"Even assuming I choose to be actively female, which is a stretch, there are ways of preventing conception. This is the Twentieth Century."
"Women on birth control have babies every day, Jacqueline. There is no foolproof way of preventing conception short of abstinence." And you won't be able to do that, my daughter, Laurie thought. Another little aspect of this Transformation is that your female needs are extremely well developed and demanding. Soon, your fingers will not be nearly enough for you.
"Again, assuming that something goes very wrong, there are ways of ending an unwanted pregnancy. And it *will* be unwanted, Mother. No child of my blood will come into this world because I cannot trust you."
All remaining color drained from Laurie's face. "You can't terminate, Jack," she whispered, not realizing that she had fallen back to using his male name. Seeing the look on her child's face, she hurried on. "It is not only a moral thing, daughter, it is a rule of magic, as well. Someone who deliberately snuffs out the spark of life from another human can never again wield the power."
"Then my dreams will die with the fetus, Mother, for I cannot, will not permit a child of mine to face what I am facing right now. I won't Transform him or her, but as long as you live, you are a threat because you don't believe there is anything wrong in stealing a dream."
"You keep saying that. What dream? You can become a male again, if you choose." and after you give me my grandchild she added in a whispered thought to herself, "What dreams have I taken from you?"
"College. It took you three years, Mother, so it will probably cost me at least that much. I will not play college sports. I won't go to a prom with my best girl on my arm. I won't learn all the things a man needs to know to live in a man's world as a man. You might as well have killed me, Mother, and have had done with it."
Tears came to Laurie's eyes. "You cannot mean that. You are just upset right now, overwrought. Honestly, Jack, it is not that bad. In fact, *being* a fellow's best girl at the prom really is rather wonderful, if you would just give it a chance. Nothing else needs to change. I am sorry I hurt you for I see now that I have, but I did not mean for it to be like this."
Jack watched his Mother's tears with a detachment born of a soul deep fury. "I will give you one chance, Mother. Reverse the spell, right now. Return me to normal, give me back the life *I* want for me instead of the one *you* want for me and I will not do anything to prevent having children. Otherwise, live with the fact that you have ended our line with your gleeful lack of concern for my wants and dreams."
If anything, the tears flowed harder. Last night, Laurie could have reversed the Transformation. She could have given her son back the life he evidently wanted enough to threaten her this way. Now, that was beyond even her power because the final spell she had cast upon his "request" for "more time" had been very carefully crafted so that only Jacqueline could reverse it. Which she could not do until she had learned the lessons and the magic necessary to effect and control the Transformation Spell on her own. Lessons that included giving birth and nurture to a child she now insisted she would never permit to be born. Goddess, what *had* she done?
"I have to leave." Laurie sobbed and ran from the room leaving a furious former son, now daughter, behind.
Twenty minutes later, a starkly composed Laurie returned to find Jack exactly as she had left her. She was simply sitting there, staring at the picture album. Goddess, but her son made a beautiful woman. Dark hair, dark flashing eyes and an olive complexion gave hints to the family's Gypsy ancestry. In the right period costume, the girl would have looked right at home in their Great Great Great Grandmother's caravan wagon, dancing to the rhythm of a tambourine for the coins men would toss her way and telling fortunes by firelight.
And the son she had given birth to hated the very thought of that. Probably hated her, too, for her part in it. Still, there was nothing more she could do about it. Laurie had spent the last fifteen minutes pouring over her ancestral texts, looking for a charm or potion or spell that would undo what she had done, but to no avail. She had done her work far too well in that respect and evidently not well enough in the sense of easing her child's acceptance of this change as the wonderful gift Laurie had seen it as. Now, she had no choice. She had to play this debacle out the only way she had left to her and hope, that in the end, she did not lose her child in the process.
With great care, she walked back to her seat across from her daughter and sat down. "I cannot undo the Transformation, Jack. I have gone through all my records, and no one except the Transformed One has ever been able to reverse the change successfully."
"So, others have found the change not to their liking?" The comment was snide and was meant to wound. Laurie did her best to ignore it.
Instead, she steeled herself not to rise to the spite in Jack's voice. There was nothing to be gained at this point by fighting. "According to my family records, there have been fifty male to female Transformations attempted in our family over the past two hundred years. Of that number, five men refused the final Transformation and were restored to their masculine state at the end of the first hour. Of the remaining cases, five members of our family who completed Transformation attempted to reverse the spell. The three who completed the learning succeeded in undoing Transformation and lived out their lives as men. However, the other two who tried to reverse the spell were not successful. One attempted the change before completing all the steps of the learning, and the other forced his mother to attempt a counter-spell. Both died."
Jack sat back, legs akimbo, in a posture of utter male dejection. It made Jacqueline look completely ridiculous and rather lewd, but Laurie bit her lip and said nothing. Trying to enforce the little niceties of ladylike deportment would not help Laurie's weak case with her daughter. Jacqueline looked up, her black eyes bleak and filling with tears. "Then it is over. I know you won't attempt it because you won't kill me, but in truth, I am not sure I wouldn't rather be dead right now."
"That is enough!" Laurie's ringing rebuke stunned Jack. "I will apologize one more time for my stupidity in thinking you might be intelligent enough, open enough, to appreciate what I did for you. However, you are alive. You are a beautiful, intelligent human being who happens to be female and that *can* be temporary. You have the potential to undo what you find so absolutely distasteful if you will only quit whining and get on with what must be done. You don't know anything about the power you could wield, but just so you might begin to understand, consider this. You say I have stolen your dreams, that I am denying you the opportunity to go to college as a male. If you complete the training and if you master the skills I will teach you, there is no reason that you cannot Transform yourself into your male self, at any age you desire."You want to be an eighteen-year-old again? Then make it so when you perform the Transformation Spell on yourself. It will be within your capabilities."
"And all I have to do is learn your little magicks and do your little tests, is that it? Which you have already said I will find distasteful. Let's not forget that."
"No, in your current mindset, I imagine they will be bloody awful for you, but that cannot be helped. It is the only way that I can find in my records to undo what I have done without causing your death. For my part, I give you my most solemn oath that I will teach you everything you need to know as quickly as you can absorb and master the knowledge. In return, I want your promise that you will do nothing to try and accelerate your return to manhood. I won't teach you without that promise because, while I don't want to live with your unhappiness on my conscience, I refuse to be the cause of your death."
Jack considered that. Laurie wanted to squirm under the power of her unblinking stare. Goddess, but would Jacqueline be powerful once she learned to focus her craft. Finally, Jack drew herself up and spoke. "Very well, Mother. I agree, and you have my promise on that score. Just one other thing, though. If I ever am given cause to believe that you are not being completely truthful with me again, or that you are playing games with me, I will leave and never come back. I will live the rest of my days as you have made me, but with one small change. I will have myself surgically sterilized so that this ends with me."
She is striking out, trying to hurt me, as she has been hurt, Laurie thought. She shook her head. This was going to be so very hard. Why had it not been hard for her and her mother? What had she done wrong with her own, beloved child? "Well. I guess that tells me what you really think of me. I could say that our family tradition says that I have done nothing to deserve that, but there are exceptions to every rule and you evidently are the one that proves it." She shrugged. No sense in avoiding the worst of it. "Very well. I will agree to your condition subject to one of my own. I cannot tell you everything. The tasks you must undertake have lessons that you must learn yourself. If I tell you what is going to occur in those cases, then you might as well not do them, and you will not achieve your goal. You will simply have to trust me on this or we can go no further. You would lose your chance to master the Transformation Spell."
"Trusting you right now is difficult, Mother." Jack watched as her arrow shattered her mother's hard-won calm, as she had intended it to do. Oddly, she felt a little ashamed. "All right. I agree to your condition, but my statement stands. Any other little non-truth and it is all over for you, for me and for whatever hope of family continuity you still might harbor."
"I cannot let you do that, Jack. That is your male ego talking, and I will not permit you to do something that stupidly harmful to yourself just to lash out at me. If you attempt to leave, and if you follow through with your threat, I will use my magic to stop you. You know I can influence minds, and I will make it impossible for you to take such a horrible step."
The hopeless shrug from her daughter nearly broke Laurie's heart. "You must do what you think you have to do, Mother, as must I. You've already taken away the things I thought I wanted, why not my free will as well? Seems that would be the simplest thing all around. Abra Kadabra, Bibbity Bobbity Boo and Jack is a happy Jill. Or Jacqueline. No more muss or fuss. Must be easy as pie for a wheeler-dealer spell caster like you."
Laurie's answer was all but inaudible. "If I do that, you will never wield magic because once a mind is opened to magical suggestion, it is open forever. You cannot shield it against someone else's influence. Only free minds can focus the power of the Goddess. If I take away that choice, you will be Jacqueline for the rest of your life." She saw the 'so what' look in her daughter's eyes and hardened her heart and her voice. "The only difference between my way and your way, sweetie, is that I *will* have my grandchild. If you force me to take your mind, I will go all the way and turn you into the perfect wife and mother. I swear it! If your children are all I can have of you, then I will have them."
Jack was strangely unresponsive in light of her ultimatum. Laurie waited for her to say something, but she didn't. Finally, Jack stood and looked down at her Mother. "I guess that says it all. You hold all the cards. If I don't do as you say, I end up as I am - a baby farm for future generations of witches. Your kindness and concern for my feelings in all this almost makes me wish we lived in Salem. When do we start, Mother-darling?"
The cruel remark and the sarcasm dripping from what had been her son's favorite endearment cut at her soul like a barely sharp knife, leaving ragged bleeding bits in its wake. She would not cry, not again. Not in front of her. "Tomorrow," she rasped out. "I need some time to prepare and to fix things like those records you mentioned. You need some time to deal with the anger in your soul. Tomorrow is soon enough." Probably too soon, she thought, but the early lessons would be the easiest, and Laurie would be the one who decided when the objectives of those lessons had been achieved.
"Very well, Mother. I will be in the garden." And with that, Jacqueline turned on her heel and strode to the garden.
The absurd picture of it drew forth a watery chuckle from Laurie after the door slammed behind Jack. She had looked so silly trying to walk like a man in that compact, curvy body. Bouncing like that probably hurt like hell. Well, dealing with her first brassiere was a milestone in any girl's life. Only most girls started with training bras fitted over a dreaming young girl's hopeful almost-bumps. Her daughter had to face a garment intended for a grown woman and was going to have to fit it over fully formed B or C cup sized breasts.
How was she going to pull this off, she asked herself again. How was she going to get her child through all the training, all the lessons that she would need to come into the fullness of her powers? Especially when the entire process had to culminate with the ultimate expression of the woman-power, the giving and nurturing of life? Somehow, she had to manipulate her child into accepting... no, that was not enough. Her child had to glory in his new-found womanliness in order to gain the power. Somehow.
Sighing, she rose from her seat and headed for her library. First things first, she reminded herself, wearily. She needed to make a place in this strange new world for her daughter. There were records to change and memories to adjust before Jacqueline could take Jack's place. After that, she would have to go clothes shopping. Jack could get by on sweats and castoffs for today, but she would need enough real clothes to get started tomorrow, and Laurie's own wardrobe would not do for her daughter. For one thing, her stuff was not appropriate for a teenager, and for another, her things would probably not fit Jack. Laurie's experienced fashion-eye told her that Jacqueline was slimmer in the waist and bigger in the bust than her Mother.
What a waste, she thought, casting such lovely pearls before such a male chauvinist swine. Well, it was her job to help her daughter learn to appreciate her new riches. It was much more than she had let on to Jack. If Laurie was right about her daughter's potential, Jacqueline's power was going to be greatly needed in the dark days to come.
End Part 1 | 4 |
5,933 | The Moriyama Sisters | "My name is Eiko Moriyama. I have reservations, two rooms, together." I punched her name into the computer and, sure enough, two rooms with an adjoining door. As I entered her credit card information, I looked her over out of the corner of my eye. She was in her forties, pretty but kind of conservative, her deep black hair cut straight across at her shoulders, parted on the side, and she wore a trim knee-length skirt and blazer. I sort of compulsively flirt with women, and when I handed her the room keys and asked her if she needed any help with her bags, I tried to catch her eye and give her a smile, but she stayed serious, not meeting my eye, giving me a formal, "No, thank you, we will carry our own bags."
She turned to the couches in the middle of the lobby and called out, "Nobuko, Keiko, come." I hadn't noticed the two teenage girls sitting on the couches, evidently Mrs. Moriyama's daughters. They got up and lugged their suitcases to the elevator, which was right next to the desk. As they reached the desk, their mother turned to me and asked, "Please, where may I purchase a newspaper?" I pointed her toward the gift shop, telling her she could find one there. She instructed the girls to wait where they were while she was gone.
As she walked away, I turned to the girls. "Which one of you is Nobuko and which is Keiko?"
One of them gave a bashful little laugh and said, "Oh, I am Nobuko, she is Keiko," pointing at her sister. The girls looked similar, but evidently had very different personalities. Nobuko, the one who had spoken up, was wearing a baggy pair of jeans and a tight tee shirt that showed off her belly button, and had on bright pink lipstick. Her long black hair had streaks of brown dyed into it, and she really seemed flirty, looking me in the eye and grinning, in contrast with her sister, who shyly looked at the ground while we talked. Keiko didn't seem to wear any makeup at all, her hair cropped a little past her ears, with bangs in front, and she was wearing a red and yellow dress that was several inches below her knees. I found out from the girls that they had just arrived with their mother from Japan and were on vacation for a week in LA before heading to Hawaii for another week. As we talked, Mrs. Moriyama returned and herded the girls into the elevator. I certainly had my hopes up about bumping into the girls during the week, though.
And I ran into them sooner than I expected. My shift was over at midnight, and I stopped by the kitchen to talk with a friend of mine for a minute, then headed toward the parking garage. As I cut through the central courtyard and approached the swimming pool, I saw someone at a poolside table, reading something, and as I got closer, I saw someone else sitting by the edge of the water. To my surprise, I saw it was Nobuko and Keiko. Keiko was leafing through a magazine, and Nobuko had her pants legs rolled up and was dangling her feet in the water.
"Hi girls. Staying up late?"
"Oh, hello!" Nobuko said with a big smile. "We cannot get to sleep. We are not used to, um, you know, change in time yet."
"At home, it would be afternoon now," Keiko added, looking at me shyly. I sat on a table between the girls and asked them how they liked LA so far. Nobuko said they hadn't seen much of it yet, but told me all the things they were planning to do. She got up from the edge of the pool and sat down on a chair at the table I was sitting on, looking up at me with her big friendly grin. Keiko stayed in the chair she was in, about ten feet from me, looking me over, kind of warily though, with her knees together and her hands in her lap.
After talking a while, I asked them, "Do either of you have a boyfriend?"
They both looked at each other and giggled. "No, not really," Nobuko shrugged.
"You're both so pretty, I thought you would." They both looked at the ground with bashful grins.
Nobuko asked, "American men, they only like women with blond hair and big . . ." Holding her hands in front of her chest.
"Nobuko!" Keiko whispered, embarrassed.
"Oh, not me," I answered. "I like Asian women a lot. Japanese women are absolutely beautiful." Their faces brightened as they looked at me expectantly. "Do you two like Japanese or American guys better?"
"I don't know . . . They are both nice," Nobuko shrugged.
"She likes all boys," teased her sister.
"Shut up!" laughed Nobuko. We sat there talking for the next half hour or so. I asked the girls if their father was traveling with them, and they told me he had died over two years ago.
"Our mother had not gone out or dated much since," said Keiko. "We asked her to take us on vacation to America. We hope that it will help her, having her meet new people."
"It probably will. I hope the two of you have some fun too."
"Having our mother around, I don't know if we will," laughed Nobuko. "You think I am pretty?"
"I think you're very pretty. In fact, I'd like to kiss you. I want to make sure you have some fun while you're here." She laughed, putting her hand on my leg, then got up and sat down on the table next to me. I circled my hand on Nobuko's back, her breathing a little heavy, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes wide in anticipation. Her sister was still at the other table, half reading her magazine, half watching us. I rubbed my hand around her back and kissed her, softly a couple times, then I pressed into her soft lips, gradually working up the intensity. I opened my mouth a little and ran my tongue around her lips. She opened her mouth, circling her soft, slippery tongue around mine. I stroked her long, silky hair, then slipped my hand under her tee shirt. I ran my hand over the smooth skin of her back, then worked around to her stomach. We came up for air after a few minutes, looking at each other and smiling.
Nobuko rubbed her arms. "Brrr . . . It is getting cold. Would you like to come up to our room for a while?" There was a little twinkle in her eye.
Keiko looked over at us. "I don't think mother would like that, Nobu."
"I'm sure she is asleep by now. We will be quiet. She will not know."
Nobuko quietly unlocked the door and, peeking in, saw that the adjoining door to their mother's room was ajar. She tiptoed in and carefully closed it, then signaled for us to come in. With sort of goofy smiles on our faces, I reached my hand out to Nobuko. She took it, and I sat her down on the edge of the bed. Keiko seemed kind of wary, and sat down at the table at the other end of the room and began nervously flipping through her magazine. Her sister and I resumed where we had left off. Under her tee shirt, I felt her small breasts underneath her bra, skimming them lightly at first, then pressing into them, feeling the bump of her nipple. She ran her hand over the muscles of my arm and chest, then worked down to my stomach. Our lips locked together, I guided her hand toward my dick. Feeling the outline of it through my jeans, big and hard as a rock, I felt Nobuko take a sharp breath.
I took my mouth away from her. Taking the bottom of her shirt in my hands, I pulled it over her head, her long black hair, with streaks of brown, cascading down. She unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off. I undid her pants, and as she stood up the loose-fitting jeans dropped to the floor, revealing a pair of brief pink cotton panties. In her underwear, she was awesome - a small, delicate little body, but it looked like she spent a lot of time outdoors, and was fairly athletic. Her olive skin had a glow to it, and her leg muscles looked very firm, maybe from gymnastics or track and field. I pulled off my shoes and pants, and we both lay back on the bed. Keiko was studiously trying to ignore us, keeping her head buried in her magazine. We kissed some more, Nobuko breathing heavily, running our hands over every inch of each other's bodies. Stroking her back, I popped open her bra, then ran my hand underneath it, feeling her unbelievably soft little tits. I took the shoulder straps of the bra and pulled it off. Her small nipples were standing erect, and her soft pink areola, about the size of a dime, were quite swollen as well.
Putting my lips around one of them, I sucked the small breast into my mouth and ran my tongue around. Nobuko squealed and groaned, stroking my back.I moved down a little and slid my hands along her hips, under her panties, pulling them down slowly. Nobu squirmed around to help them off. I circled my hand around her sparse, deep black pubic hair as she giggled and scrunched up her face in nervous anticipation. She sat up and put her hands on the waistband of my boxer shorts as I lay back. Pulling downward, my stiff, throbbing dick, which had been uncomfortably confined for some time now, sprang instantly upward. She drew a deep breath through her mouth, her eyes even wider.
She looked up at my face, then back down to my pounding erection, half laughing, half in shock. She called over to her sister excitedly. "Keiko, look at how big it is... Keiko, look!" Her somewhat more innocent sister slowly, a little reluctantly, took her gaze from her magazine and glanced over. Asian women can't hide it when they're turned on - Keiko's face instantly turned a deep red as her eyes settled on the long, thick, red-veined pole pointing toward the ceiling. Her lips slowly parted and her eyes grew wide. She seemed shocked, but couldn't take her eyes off it. Propping herself up next to me on her elbow, Nobuko traced her fingertips along my erection, squeezing the stiff shaft with its bulging veins, feeling the big, spongy-feeling head. She lightly, tentatively wrapped her hand around it and stroked, looking at my face for approval. Seeing her soft little hand around the thick shaft, delicately jerking me off, I gave a sigh, which encouraged little Nobuko, her hand moving faster and more firmly, a big grin on her face.
I reached around and circled my hand over her pussy. She giggled and squirmed around nervously at first, but as I worked my finger in a little, exploring, finding her tiny little clit, she relaxed, opening her legs a little. We played with each other for a few minutes until Nobu seemed like she was about to come. She let go of my dick and dropped her head down on the pillow, breathing deeply through her mouth and closing her eyes. Her face was flushed and a sheen of sweat formed on her forehead as I firmly circled my finger around her clit, the young Asian girl sighing, then groaning as she exhaled, till she squeezed her eyes shut, opened her mouth and let out a long squeaky gasp. She lay there, massaging her tits with her fingertips till she recovered, slowly opening her eyes, gazing at me with a look that seemed to say, "Oh, I would do anything for you."
I lay back, stroking her arm, looking from her face to my dick. Biting her lip, she seemed to think it over a second, then as she delicately stroked the shaft, she bent down and kissed the throbbing, pounding head, her lipstick leaving a soft pink smudge. Holding onto the base securely, she took a little of the tip into her mouth and dragged her lips along it as she went upward. Gently bobbing her head up and down, she took in a little more each time. When she had gotten the head and an inch or two more in, which was quite a mouthful for her, she started working up and down, not sucking hard though, and just letting the tip of her tongue touch my dick. She wasn't being very vigorous, but that was fine with me. I wanted this to last a while.
Putting my hand behind my head, laying back on the pillow, I took a deep breath and groaned, taking in the sight. Nobu's beautiful almond-shaped eyes looking up at me, her cute little nose, her small delicate mouth, pink lips stretched around my big, deep red erection, sucking up and down. I stroked her long silky hair and ran my hand over her soft body. Her skin was a really beautiful color, a light yellowish-olive, lighter where a bikini top and bottom would usually cover her. I looked across the room at her sister. Keiko had given up any pretense of reading her magazine, instead staring, mouth slightly open, transfixed at the sight of her sister sucking my dick. Keiko's cheeks were blushing a bright red. I reached around and rubbed Nobuko's pussy, then worked one of my fingers slowly inside of her to see how difficult a time I would have with her. Nobuko wiggled around and squealed as I eased my finger in and out, which felt great with my dick still in her mouth. She seemed like she would be a very snug fit, but she felt slippery and well-lubricated enough, so I figured she could take me okay as long as I took it slow.
I sat up and guided her down on her back. Circling one hand over her little tits, I tried slipping two fingers in her to loosen her up a little more. After coming just a minute ago, Nobuko was very relaxed and pliant, her eyelids heavy, her legs wide open. I figured she was ready as she would ever be, so I got on top of her and put the head of my dick against her little opening. Pushing, the head popped in easily, but her young vaginal muscles resisted allowing any more in. I eased as much as I could in and out, coating it in Nobuko's slipperiness, every so often giving a firm push, working a fraction of an inch more in. Poking, prodding, feeling her soft, warm pussy gradually but reluctantly open up for me, I finally got enough lodged in her, but had some difficulty when I started trying to pump her.
"Nobuko, try pushing your hips up when I push down," I whispered to her, but the young Japanese girl was totally out of it. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was gasping through her mouth, and I don't think she heard a word I said. With her young vagina still clinging tightly to my desperately throbbing erection, I put my arms under her legs, lifting them into the air. With her pelvis elevated a little, I was able to start pumping, groaning as I plunged my dick into her, her velvety soft little pussy squeezing down on it. I was trying to go slow, not only to take it easy on her but also so I would last a while, but as she produced more lubrication, mixing with my own pre-cum, I couldn't help taking a few quick pumps and, with a loud grunt, my orgasm suddenly hit. My first spurt instantly filled the girl, spilling out of her, then spurt after spurt followed, each one gushing out of Nobuko's completely flooded little private area. After I had shot it all into her, I started easing in and out again, the feeling of her tight pussy coated with my hot, thick, slimy semen better than I could believe.
With an exhausted groan, I rolled over on my back and lay there, hands over my eyes. I don't know how long it took me to recover, but after a while, with another groan, I hauled myself out of bed and headed to the bathroom to wash off my dick. As I walked back out, Nobuko walked in, and I heard her turn on the shower. I pulled on my boxers and sat on the bed. I glanced over at Keiko, who had a kind of glazed expression, her face flushed with a little sweat on her upper lip, looking like she had gotten a good fucking herself. We sat there while her sister showered, the silence getting a little uncomfortable.
"Um, I hope we didn't bother you, Keiko." She gave me a quick glance and a bashful smile, shaking her head, before looking back down at the floor, clasping her hands in her lap and crossing her feet. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I might have read a little something into the shy smile she gave me, like maybe she was a little interested...
Nobuko came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, taking off a shower cap and shaking out her hair. She gave me one of her big grins, squinting her eyes. She went over to where Keiko was sitting and whispered something in her ear, tugging on her sleeve. Trying to stifle a smile, crinkling up her nose, Keiko shook her head. "Please," Nobuko said, turning toward me, "Would you like to do it with my sister?"
"No!" Keiko squealed, giggling, yanking on her sister's arm, trying to get her to stop. Keiko seemed like she had lightened up a little bit, looking at me more directly and showing a little interest in the way she looked at me, but she still seemed pretty nervous, and kind of hesitant to come over to me.
I got an idea to get her to relax. There was a bathrobe over the back of one of the chairs, and I reached over to it and pulled the belt out. I sat back down on the bed and put my hands behind my back. "You can tie my hands behind my back, Keiko. I won't be able to do anything you don't want me to."
Nobuko looked enthusiastically at her sister. "OK?" Keiko didn't answer, just kept looking at me, biting her lip, slowly starting to smile. She looked at her sister and gave a little nod of her head. Nobu jumped on the bed and put my hands together behind my back and carefully tied the belt around one wrist, then the other. I rolled over on my back as she turned toward Keiko and enthusiastically waved her over.
Nobuko pulled off the towel she had been wearing, exposing her naked little body to me, and said, "Kei, take your clothes off!" Keiko, blushing, bashfully unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She kicked off her loafers, stepping out of her skirt, then slowly unbuttoned her blouse. In her white bra and baby blue panties, her body was a little paler than her sister's, with thin arms and legs like she spent most of her time indoors, studying or practicing music. She walked over to the bed, carefully sitting on the very edge. Nobuko grabbed the bottoms of my boxer shorts and pulled them down. My semi-erect dick was flopped over to the side, drawing giggles from the girls.
"Keiko, take off your bra," I said. She was still a little bit anxious, but I think she liked the power of having me tied down, with her sitting over me. She thought a moment, then reached around and undid it, shrugging it off and putting it on the bedside table. Her tits were the same small beautiful shape as her sister's, and her areola were the same puffed-out light pink kind, but hers were noticeably larger than Nobuko's, almost the size of a quarter.She took a deep breath, trying to stifle a shy smile, and slipped her panties off, revealing a thin, neat triangle of pubic hair.
"Kei," Nobuko said softly to her sister, pointing at my dick. It had started to slowly rise, and the girls watched in fascination as it got more and more erect, eventually reaching its full height, throbbing gently. They looked at one another, teenage horniness not only in Nobuko's eyes, but also in Keiko's. With the two naked sisters on either side of me, Nobu made the first move, eagerly wrapping her hand around my hard-on. Jacking me off, she smiled as she heard my groans of pleasure.
After a minute, she pushed it over to her sister. "You try." With a quick peek at my face, Keiko bit her lip and took the thick shaft in her hand. "Go up and down!" Encouraged her sister. She began carefully stroking, every so often squeezing it, finding out how this strange new thing felt.
"Kei, here, I will show you how to suck on it." Bending it toward her, Nobu leaned down and took my stiff dick delicately in her fingertips, then kissed the head, ran her tongue up and down it a few times and then opened her mouth wide and engulfed it. Her lips stretched around the thick shaft, the head filling her small mouth, she started bobbing her head, sucking more confidently than the first time. Nobuko was being a little more aggressive this time, caressing my dick with her tongue and using a lot of suction. After a couple minutes, she pulled her head up, making a 'pop' as my erection pulled out of her mouth.
She pushed it over toward her sister. "Now you. Do it just like I was doing." With Nobuko holding onto the shaft, Keiko, with a nervous deep breath, bent down, closing her eyes as she took the head in her mouth. She held still, frozen in place for a second. "Suck it," Encouraged her sister, giggling, "Go up and down!" Keiko started very slightly bobbing her head, just a fraction of an inch.
"More than that," Laughed Nobuko.
I put my hand on Nobuko's back. "Let her take her time. She'll get used to it." After a while, she got more confident, relaxing her tongue and throat muscles and taking in as much as she could, although just skimming it lightly with her lips and barely letting her tongue touch it. I ran my hand through her short silky hair, telling her how good it felt. Her sister, getting a little jealous I think, pulled my dick away and started working on it herself, sucking quickly and enthusiastically. The two traded off every minute or so, Keiko getting more and more into it, really loosening up and getting giggly. With my hands tied behind my back, it was really a new experience for me, and I kind of liked it, laying there helpless, these two young girls able to do anything they wanted to me.
I don't think she even realized she was doing it, but I noticed Keiko had let one of her hands slip between her legs, and was massaging her pussy. As they took turns, they both tried to outdo each other, really sucking hard and moving smoothly up and down the long shaft. While Nobu had her mouth full, Keiko sat up and really started rubbing her pussy, using both hands and rocking back and forth. Nobuko and I looked at each other and gave a little laugh, watching her shy little sister humping herself, eyes closed, face red, letting out a faint, 'uh', every so often. Watching her as Nobuko stroked my dick, eventually she opened her mouth and took a deep breath, tilted her head back and let out a soft, satisfied sigh. With her eyes tightly shut, she kept rubbing herself, keeping her orgasm going. As she slowly recovered, I started trying to untie my wrists.
"That looked like it felt good," Nobuko grinned to her sister, reaching over and putting her hand on her knee, Keiko looking bashfully downward. It was pretty easy to untie the belt behind my back, and as I got it off, I sat up, scooped Keiko up in my arms and laid her on her back in the middle of the bed, then sat on her legs so she couldn't get up.
"Aaaa!" She squealed, laughing and shrieking, gigglingly trying to keep me from running my hands along her naked little body, trying to squirm away from me. When she saw she couldn't get away, she lay back, smiling, breathing heavily, holding her arms out to the side and waiting for me to make the next move. After being teased for the last ten minutes by the girls, my dick was throbbing, pounding, hard as a rock. I massaged her little tits with my fingertips, then slid my hands up and down her body, working down to her inner thighs. I took her ankles and parted her legs. Rubbing her pussy, I slipped a finger in. She was even tighter than her sister, and didn't seem to be very wet, even after coming just a minute ago. I worked my finger slowly in and out, and when I got an inch or so in, I felt what I was sure was her hymen.
Nobuko took her sister's hand. "Don't worry. He will be careful." Without makeup, and with her short hair, Keiko looked very young and innocent, and her skinny body made her look very delicate. Looking up at me trustingly, with a mixture of eagerness and nervousness, I promised myself I would take it very, very slow.
I put a glob of spit in my hand and ran it along the stiff length of my dick, then another just to make sure. I lifted her butt up and slid one of the pillows underneath. Kneeling in front of her, I lifted her legs into the air, then worked my way forward and put the thick shaft up to her tiny little slit, rubbing it up and down, then poking the head in. I first carefully thrust just the spongy tip of my erection in and out, getting her ready. After a couple of minutes, I pushed gently, squeezing maybe half an inch in. The saliva on my dick was helping, and I figured it wouldn't be as difficult as I thought. Working into the incredibly soft, hot walls of her vagina, I pumped slowly, deeper and deeper, eventually meeting up with the thin membrane of her hymen. As I carefully worked further in, I felt it stretching, then opening up against the sensitive head of my dick, allowing me into the most private and intimate parts of Keiko's body.
As I slid in and out, the spit that was easing my entry began to dry up. The firm walls of her pussy were clinging tightly to the shaft, but further in, the head of my erection was sliding along more easily. Her young, inexperienced body was trying desperately to produce enough lubrication to take me. Slowly pumping her, the little bit of moisture she was producing was pulled from deep inside her down along the shaft of my dick. Once I had a light coating all along the length, I started an easy but firm motion, Keiko and I groaning together at the incredible feeling. Nobuko had her hand on her sister's shoulder, watching carefully, making sure I didn't hurt her. Kneeling in front of her, the young girl's hips elevated by the pillow and her legs in the air, I pushed down on the backs of her legs to hold her steady. I picked up the pace a little, an anxious squeal coming from Keiko, grabbing onto my forearms, but it sounded like she was still okay.
With her slick, tight pussy squeezing my dick, I felt my orgasm coming. Keeping my promise not to pump little Keiko too hard, it took an agonizingly long time, easing slowly in and out, but when I did, it was incredibly intense. I let out a long groan as I began shooting jet after jet of cum, long thick spurts deep into the girl. Her cervix, only minutes before securely protected by her hymen, was now flooded with a thick coating of my semen.
Laying next to each other, panting, Nobuko stroked her sister's leg. "Wasn't that the best thing you ever felt? He is very good at it." Still breathing heavily through her mouth, Keiko wasn't able to answer, but managed to give her sister a little smile. She let out a long satisfied sigh, stroked my stomach, then headed toward the bathroom. Nobuko laid back on the bed and turned on the TV, clicking through the channels. I hauled myself up out of bed and followed Keiko into the shower. With her in the shower, I washed myself off at the sink. She had left the shower curtain open and I watched her soaping herself up in the mirror. The soapy water covering her skin, combined with the lighting in the bathroom made her skin a really beautiful color, kind of like honey. Seeing me looking at her, a shy but still flirty smile broke out on her face. She slowly rubbed her hands over her body. I couldn't resist.
I stepped into the tub with Keiko, the warm water running over us, and took the bar of soap from her, circling it around, then lathering her up with my hands, going over her little tits, her waist, the curve of her cute little butt. I was a good head taller than she was and had to bend down to soap her up between her legs. With the soapy water on her, her skin felt incredibly soft and smooth. Keiko took the bar of soap and ran it around the muscles of my arms and chest, lathering it with her other hand, working down, across my stomach, gigglingly circling her hand around my butt, then carefully running the soap around my groin. She lathered it up on my pubic hair then circled her hand around my limp dick, stroking, washing off the coating of cum.
Did I say it was limp? As she thoroughly soaped it, my dick began to grow, Keiko watching fascinated as it slowly inflated in her hand. Once it was fully hard, she stroked the soapy water along the big, stiff muscle, then looked up at me shyly and said, "I, um... I kind of liked it when I was, you know, sucking on it in my mouth. I didn't get to do it much. Nobu would not give me a chance." I smiled at her and ran my fingers through her wet hair. She eagerly kneeled down, rinsed the soap off it, then without hesitation engulfed it, quickly running her mouth up and down the length of it. I closed my eyes and groaned, putting my hand on the back of her head.
"What is taking you so..."Nobuko exclaimed, laughing, seeing the two of us in the shower, her sister sucking my dick. "You cannot have him for yourself." She pulled off the t-shirt and panties she had put on, then climbed in with us. With her younger sister on her knees, bobbing her head up and down, Nobu hugged herself against me from behind, stroking all over my body. "You are so wonderful. Could you do it to me again? Please?" I reached back and squeezed her cute little butt. I patted Keiko on the head and pulled my now throbbing, rock-hard erection out of her mouth. Turning toward Nobuko, my dick poking her in the stomach, I took her shoulders and turned her around, then bent her forward. With the warm water still running over us, she held onto one of the faucets to steady herself. I had to bend my knees quite a bit to line myself up with her, and then, holding onto her waist, I nudged the head of my dick against her little opening.
Pumping, I slowly worked my way in, snug and tight but after the fucking I had given her I was able to squeeze myself in without a lot of difficulty. This being my third time, I wasn't worried about coming too soon, so I set up a good quick motion, as fast as I thought she could take, little Nobuko giving out a squeaky gasp with each one. Enjoying the great feeling, I looked over at the mirror facing the shower and took in the sight - Nobuko bent over in front of me, my thick erection sliding in and out of the small, slender girl, Keiko behind me, hugging her arms around me.
"Please," Keiko's voice spoke up behind me, timid but expectant, "Could you do it to me again, too?" What, do these girls think I'm Superman? Just so she wouldn't feel left out, after I had given Nobuko a good poking, I slipped my dick out of her and turned toward her little sister. I turned her around and bent her over in front of me and aimed my erect penis, pumped up, throbbing, ready to start spurting at any moment. As I touched it to Keiko's pussy, I could tell her young body had learned quickly how to prepare itself for sex pretty well. Her little opening had a light coating of lubrication, feeling almost like it was pulling my dick inside her as I touched it to her little slit. Pushing myself forward, I put my hands around her waist and pulled her into me, the two of us riding each other, the warm, slippery softness crushing down on my dick, faster and faster, till with a long groan I started spilling another quantity of cum into the young girl, the overflow being washed away by the stream of water from the shower.
We were all pretty much fucked out, the girls looking like they wanted to fall asleep right there in the shower. I managed to get them dried off and into bed, then pulled the covers over them. As I got dressed, Keiko said to her sister, loud enough so I could hear, "It has been so long since our mother has had a boyfriend or has, you know, been close to a man. I'll bet she would like to."
Nobu glanced at me for a split second. "I know. I am sure she would. Perhaps we could find someone for her . . ." She turned slightly toward me, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. Mrs. Moriyama wasn't bad - no teenager, but she had a nice trim figure and a very pretty face. She seemed so reserved and businesslike though, I didn't know if I could help them out. Then again, I had been admiring her ever since she had arrived, and, well, if it would make the girls happy, I could at least try to chat with her and see if anything developed. I quickly finished dressing and headed toward the elevator. Yes, I usually stick around till morning, but in this case, with their mother in the adjoining room and a hotel manager who looks down on things like this...
The End | 4 |
5,988 | In The Bank Manager's Cupboard | "Answer me, slave. Do you agree that you need to be taught humility?" she insisted. David nodded and dropped his head down into the pillows. The bitch was not only going to do it, but she made him admit he needed it.
"That's a good girl," she teased, "and I'm sure this is going to make you feel suitably humble."
Initially, David found the experience uncomfortable and grossly humiliating, especially as Karin giggled with obvious relish as she thrust back and forth. Karin alternated between ramming into him and writhing to stimulate herself when deep within him. As the pain of the punishment turned into a deep red glowing sensation, Karin's writhing started to stimulate his prostate, and her thrusting caused his penis to rub against the bed covers. David found these twin 'pleasures' psychologically disturbing.
Karin noticed that David's moans and groans were no longer expressing pain and discomfort, but were now an indication of the sexual pleasure he was experiencing.
Karin held on to the gag strap at the back of his head like a rein and rode him like a rodeo star. Hurling insults and derogatory abuse at him, she used his excitement to further vanquish him.
"So you liked to be fucked, do you? Whore! My randy little maid likes her boss to have a big prick. So wanker, now I know what you think about when you jerk off."
David found the experience disturbing because at the same time as suffering such crushing abasement, he was enjoying the most intense physical pleasure he had ever encountered. The beating had broken him; this demeaning rape was truly humbling him.
Panting her abuse through intense and powerful orgasms above him, she brought him to a kind of inner orgasmic plateau. Each of her paroxysms were accompanied by small spurts from his penis. Each little eruption suffused his body with joy, quite unlike normal ejaculation. He had never visited this plateau of pleasure before. He was kept there partially by the fear of the consequences should he spurt his ejaculate without permission.
Although he was fearful of further punishment with the riding crop, which he knew lay there so far unused, he could not help himself from leaking onto her bed covers. He was at the same time experiencing a deep conversion to subservience. She had found and stimulated a submissive tendency within him. Having broken his male ego, she would soon have him grovelling in unresisting servitude. She had conquered him completely.
Karin unstrapped his gag and, grabbing a handful of hair, she thrust and pumped her erection into him. "What do you say, slut?" she demanded.
"Oh please, Madam, please may I come now," David answered.
"No, slut, not yet. You have something else to say to me first."
Karin continued her pumping and started to feel the onset of yet another peak.
"Oh Madam, thank you, Madam, for teaching me humility," David moaned, trying to restrain the gushing which he desperately needed to release. "Please, Madam, please."
"Aaaaaah," Karin moaned. "Yessss, what else have you to say to your Mistress, slut?"
"Oh Madam, Madam, I love you, please, Madam. Please."
Karin's seventh orgasm exploded, and she moaned in ecstasy and collapsed onto David's back, just as he pumped his ejaculation into her bedclothes. He groaned his thanks, and then his apologies, and then finally, as he ceased spurting, he sighed, "I think I really do love you, Madam."
Karin smiled, like a cat that got the cream. She almost purred in the pleasure of victory. She had taken David apart psychologically, and when she put the pieces back together, she'd made him just the way she liked her men - submissive. "Just remember that I OWN YOU, David." | 4 |
5,992 | Mirror | "Benjamin, I tell you, there's something wrong with your brother and I'm worried about Randall. For the last month, every time I place a telephone call to his store to talk to him, I get some woman answering the phone instead of your brother. According to her, 'Randall isn't there'. She gives me a cock-and-bull story about why he can't come to the phone to talk to his own father. Then about two or three days after my failed attempt to talk to him, I get a nice letter from Randall, telling me that he's doing great and that everything's all right with him. I'm beginning to think that he doesn't want to talk to me anymore."
"Dad, Randy's got a good business and he's probably very busy working in his store. Buying and selling antiques can be very demanding on his time."
"Don't try to confuse the facts on your own father. Randall can somehow find the time to sit down and write me a two-page letter instead of giving me the simple luxury of a phone call where I can immediately respond to his verbal statements? He's written me three letters this month telling me how great he's feeling and that I shouldn't worry about him. That's two more letters than he ever wrote to me before IN HIS TOTAL LIFE. Why can't he find the time to give me a quick phone call and just let me hear his voice? If your mother was still alive...God bless her poor soul, she would be worried sick about him because of the way that he's repeatedly being difficult to find. It's probably true that if your dear mother was still alive, that she'd be a little happy just because her oldest son finally learned how to write a letter home. You know it's not like Randall to write letters instead of calling me and that's one of the big things that makes me suspect that there's something seriously wrong with him. I even compared his handwriting to one of his old letters to make sure it was really him writing the letters."
"Dad, I'll admit that it's a little strange for Randy to suddenly start communicating through the mail instead of using the phone. But there's nothing wrong with that. You're just getting paranoid again."
"Paranoid? Since when is worrying about your oldest child considered paranoid? Benjamin, I want you to drive up to Cleveland this weekend and make sure that everything's really all right with him. I won't feel right until you tell me that you've seen him in person and made sure that he's ok."
"Dad, it is a two-hundred-mile one-way drive to Cleveland. And I'm supposed to take my girlfriend, Donna out for dinner Saturday evening. I'm not going to spend my weekend off by driving almost four hundred miles round trip just to look at Randy's ugly face. There's a strong chance that this could be the weekend that I finally get lucky with Donna."
"Son, if you haven't got any of your new girlfriend's nooky after dating her for over two long months, then you ain't going to get any where near her pussy unless you win the lottery and become an instant millionaire. A woman who keeps you that far away from the interior of her panties, won't give you any good loving unless you slip a wedding ring on her finger and allow her to slip a ring through your nose so she can lead you around some more. Listen to some good advice from your old man who used to understand women before he married your poor departed mother thirty years ago and discovered that the rules drastically change immediately after the marriage vows. A woman uses her body to get what she wants from a man. You haven't got into her panties because there's nothing that your prissy-ass new girlfriend really wants from you. Your new love knows that she can get you to spend your hard-earned money on her and she doesn't have to let you fuck her in return. I think that you ought to go see your brother instead of wasting more of your time with this particular woman. You went years without screwing some woman so I know that you can go one more weekend of not getting into Donna's bed without too much pain."
"Dad, she's not like that. We have a progressing relationship because Donna is a lady and I respect her wishes. I'm not going drive all the way up there. I'm twenty-four years old. Randy's twenty-eight. But it's my girl's number that's more important to me right now. Donna's thirty-five - thirty-five C Cup, that is. I'm old enough to know what I ought to do with my free weekend off and Randy's old enough to know how to take care of himself. And I'm going to spend my time admiring Donna's 35C-23-34 body instead of checking up on my older brother just because my father is getting overly apprehensive in his old age."
"Yeah, I know that you don't owe me nothing...I'm just your poor father who may not be around too many more years...you don't owe me anything just because I devoted the best years of my life to putting food on the table, clothes on your body and a roof over your head. Spare me the part of your usual speech about how you moved out of my house five years ago and you're a big man who can take care of himself now. I'm not asking you to do much...just humor me by calling him and talking to him."
"Dad! I don't want to poke my nose into his business just because you think he's avoiding you for some stupid reason. I refuse to call him just because you're getting unduly suspicious in your old age. That's my last word. I don't want to hear any more about this topic."
******
"Rosewood Antiques. How may I help you?"
The female voice on the phone sounded professional. Just from the sound of her voice, Ben immediately built a mental image of a flat-chested thirty/thirty-five-year-old woman with her dark hair up in a bun and wearing glasses. She was probably wearing an ankle-length skirt and didn't believe in wearing makeup or dating men.
"Hi. I'm Ben Kline, Randy's brother. Is Randy there?"
There was a long pause of five to six seconds of dead silence from the woman before she replied. In that time, her voice changed from the cool professional sound to a higher-pitched, slightly startled tone as if she was trying to quickly think of a response. "Uh...Mister Kline is unavailable right now. Could I take a message?"
"Nah. Just calling my older brother to see how he's doing. Haven't talked to him in a couple of months and just wanted to chit-chat a little. Can you ask him to give me a call later today when he's got time to B.S. a little with me?"
"He's...He's not here now. He's on a purchasing trip and I don't expect to talk to him today."
"Oh! Okay. Just let him know that I called. I'm sorry but I didn't get your name when you answered."
"Marie. Marie Tanner. I'm the Assistant Manager." Her voice returned to a more in-control, positive-sounding tone as if she were talking to a friend now.
"So my brother can afford an Assistant Manager now. Sounds like my older brother's business is doing good. How long have you been working there?"
"He hired me a month ago."
"Great. I'm glad that he's got someone to keep him straight. Well, Marie, it's been nice talking to you."
Her voice changed tone again, losing the professional tone and becoming a more relaxed, friendly-sounding voice. "It's been great talking to you too. Randy's told me so much about you that I feel as if I know you already. You don't have to worry about your brother because I'm taking good care of him."
There was just enough emphasis on her words 'taking good care of him' to add hidden meaning to the words. Although as Assistant Manager of the business, it was her job to take care of the business, her words and warm tone sounded as if she was also taking care of Randy's more intimate needs...perhaps even Randy's sexual needs. Ben's mental image of Marie quickly changed as he built a new mental image of a sexy blonde with big boobs on the other end of the phone line. Randy had always been partial to blondes and Ben was partial to women with big boobs.
"Great. Well, I'm looking forward to meeting you someday."
Again, her voice changed, reinforcing the image of the sexy blonde with big boobs, but now the mental image of the woman on the phone was completely naked in Ben's mind. Her new tone was a softer, sultry-sounding tone as she cooed, "We have to get together soon. I'm so looking forward to...meeting you. Have a good day."As Ben hung up the phone, he felt very confused. Just as one can feel someone smile or frown on the other end of a phone, he had felt a strong sexual tug from the woman who had just hung up the phone. An indirect come-on, as if she was trying to seduce him over the phone. Why was she coming on to him, if she was involved personally with his brother?
"Hi dad. Well, uh..I called him like you requested."
"Did you talk to him?"
"No, he's out of town on a trip."
"See. He's spending a lot of time on the road now. Did you talk to 'her' and is that where she said he was? Is it her word that you're believing when she says that everything is all right with my son?"
"Dad, he's all right. Right after I called, he sent me a fax, telling me that he's doing good and except for a sore throat today, he was feeling great."
"A fax? Your brother can't call you, but he can send you a fax? And you think everything is normal with him? Benjamin, I didn't raise you to be an idiot. I tell you that there's something seriously wrong with your brother. You need to go up there this weekend to investigate this matter. I insist."
"Dad, I'm not going. Get off of that tangent. He's all right. I'll call back tomorrow when the store is open and if he's not there, I'll request firmly about getting a phone number where I can talk to him."
"Call his apartment tonight. I insist."
"Hello." The very feminine voice was friendly, relaxed, and definitely wasn't Randy's voice.
"Uh..hi. Is this Marie? This is Ben again. I'm still trying to get in touch with Randy."
Her voice became distant sounding and cautious, as if she were trying to hide something from him. "Ben?...Oh...Hi. Randy's uh uh ..forwarded his apartment's phone to my phone so that I can answer his phone for him while he's out of town. He's still traveling."
"Look, it's important that I talk with Randy soon to discuss some family matters. He sent me a fax right after I talked to you today but I need to personally speak with him. Do you have a number where I can get in touch with him?"
"Sorry...but he calls in from wherever he's at sometime during the day, to check on the business and he just happened to call me right after you called the store earlier. His voice was very hoarse and he said that he had a bad sore throat."
"Please have him call me. Bye."
Ben Kline unbuckled his seat belt as he put his car's transmission into the park gear before turning off the car's motor. He glanced at his craggy face in the visor's small mirror as he ran a large hand through his thinning hair. Another eight to ten years of ever-increasing hair loss and his head would look like a billiard ball with fringe around the side, just like his old man's head. Running his hand across his sandpaper feeling chin, he hated the way that his thick and coarse facial hair was too fast growing and thick while the thinning hair on his head was making him look older than he really was. Rubbing his fingertips across his face again, he knew that he had closely shaved that morning but his heavy beard growth made him look and feel as if he had a two day-old beard.
Grimacing at his image in the mirror, he stared at his strong pointy chin, long slender face, hawk nose, slicked back pompadour hairstyle and deep set eyes under bushy eyebrows. He mumbled out loud to himself "Benjamin David Kline, you're one old looking mutherfucker already and you're only twenty-four years young. No wonder you can't get anywhere near Donna's supposed-to-be-virgin young pussy. If I was a young beautiful woman like Donna who could have any man in the world that she wanted, I wouldn't fuck a stubbled-faced, skinny old fart like myself either. Well, let's go see what Randy's new bitch looks like and get this out of the way so that I can go back home and tell Dad that everything is all right. Then maybe Dad will leave me the fuck alone and let me live my life without any more interference from him."
Pushing the visor back up out of the way so that he couldn't see his reflected face, he climbed out of the small sports car. He stretched his six foot two inch, one hundred and seventy pound slender body as he tried to shake off some of the lethargic numbness in his butt after the two hundred mile drive from his home up to Cleveland. There were a lot of other places that he would prefer to be on a beautiful Friday night instead of Cleveland. But when his brother didn't call him within two days of his after-hours phone call to Marie, he knew that his father's suspicions might be right. And his father was still bugging the shit out of him, so that was why he was here to investigate the facts in person.
Glancing at his watch, he saw that he had arrived just in time to beat the store's closing. The store was scheduled to close at six p.m. so he had rushed to get there before she could lock up the store and disappear for the evening.
The ringing door-opening bell over the store's front door sounded too loud as he entered the front door of his brother's business. Antique businesses always have a changing mixture of displayed antiques and junk to attract your attention as you enter those places. But instead of looking at any of the crowded mixture of antiques, his attention was immediately focused on the young attractive woman that was busy behind the counter. That one glance at her was enough to invoke the image of the sexy, sophisticated, seductive, sultry slender blonde that Sharon Stone played in the Basic Instinct movie and to give Ben's preconceived mental image of Marie a beautiful face to go along with the perfect body. Randy's pretty assistant manager was the movie's star's almost exact twin with her lithe sexy body and sensual classical face.
She looked up from the notebook that she was writing in and she smiled a 'welcome to the store' type of smile which quickly faded into a 'oh..shit' type of smile as if she somehow recognized him. Her large expressive blue eyes went from being friendly to being stunned to being scared to being cautious as he walked toward the counter.
"Hi. You must be Marie. I'm Ben.", he declared as he continued staring straight into her beautiful but obviously cautious beautiful big blue eyes.
For a second her mouth hung open as if she was flabbergasted at his unexpected appearance, then her face assumed a somewhat 'wish I was elsewhere but I will make the best of it' type of smile as she held out her hand "Yeah, I know. Uh...that is, I recognized you from your picture."
He wrapped his large hand around her small hand and shook her hand as he pretended that he didn't notice her awkward coolness to his unexpected arrival "When my big brother didn't call me back, I decided to come on up anyway. Reason that I was trying to get in touch with him, was to tell him that I was coming up to see him this weekend. I've got a spare key to his apartment and thought that I would stop by here first to see if I could catch him here. Is Randy around?"
She pulled her small hand back from his country-boy handshake grip, using the same hand to push a lock of golden hair back from across her face as she quickly uttered in a somber sounding voice "I don't expect him to be here..that is, to be in town this weekend. Looks like you drove up here for nothing."
As he gazed at her, several thoughts rushed through his mind. "I WANT TO FUCK HER! Why is she hiding my brother's whereabouts? I WANT TO FUCK HER! She's one attractive bitch. I WANT TO FUCK HER! I can see why my brother hired her. With her looks, she could be incompetent and who would notice her lousy work. I WANT TO FUCK HER! Is she fucking my brother? I WANT TO FUCK HER!"
Pulling himself out of his circle of repeating thoughts, Ben decided to act as normal as possible until he could discover what type of relationship was really going on between her and his missing brother. Smiling at her as if they were old friends, Ben's next few words are a cautious mixture of his personal attraction toward the woman, his desire to find his brother and a feeling that she was hiding something. "Well, I've missed my brother before so I know how to find my way around his place by myself and I've got a key to it. Look, it was a long drive up here and I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast. Do you have any plans for dinner?"
A twinkle appeared in her eyes and the expressed caution began to disappear from her eyes as some of her womanly confidence reappeared in her smile and the way that she held herself. There was just the barest noticeable movement as she pulled her shoulders back slightly, resulting in a minor, more rounded chest expansion of her boobs. He let his eyes drop down from her face as a result of her slight movement and he allowed himself the momentary glance at what he knew had to be the curved shape of two of the most perfect boobs in the world hidden underneath her blouse. Normally he liked women with big heavy tits but he could tell from her slender body that she had the luscious type of swimmer's body with firm perky tits that he couldn't pass up if given the chance to sample the merchandise.
For a long second he just stared at her perfectly rounded breasts underneath the tight chiffon blouse. Then he jerked his eyes back up to her twinkling eyes which were smiling like a cat that just cornered a mouse - or were her now-gleaming eyes more like the eyes of a fisherman who just set the hook into a record-size fish that hadn't discovered that it was caught yet. Anyhow her smiling eyes and fluid body movements were expressing non-verbal statements that were easily understood by any man over twelve years old. She answered his invitation to dinner in a laughing tone but her response was a double meaning question "Is there anything special that you would like to eat?""He knew what he wanted to eat - her golden pussy. But he lied and responded with an answer that wouldn't get his face slapped: "Uhh..no, I just want to relax and enjoy a good meal with pleasant company after my long drive here. Where would you like to go?"
She pointed to a small doorway at the end of the room. "The office is back there, and Randy keeps a shaving kit in his lower right-hand drawer for emergencies. Why don't you grab his razor and knock off some of that heavy stubble growth while I close up the shop."
******
A slightly cleaner-looking Ben Klein waited for Marie to lock the door to the store. He had used his brother's shaving kit to shave so that he looked slightly more presentable, and some of the cologne to make himself smell a lot better. He used the opportunity while she was busy locking the door to closely examine the bewitching woman who had worked her way into his brother's confidence.
She was about five feet four inches tall and looked like she barely weighed a few pounds over one hundred pounds. But it was a perfectly proportional body with wide, rounded hips, a narrow waist, and relatively large breasts on her small, tight body. Her two-inch beige high heels supported two of the nicest flesh-colored, nylon-encased legs that he had seen in a long time. The shapely legs disappeared into a mid-thigh beige tight skirt that showed just enough leg to be tantalizing and covered just enough thigh to be acceptable for wearing to work. The delicate belt around her waist showed off her small waist while holding up the skirt and tucking away the bottom of a white chiffon blouse. The form-fitting blouse tastefully followed the contours of her chest and made her shoulders look narrow while highlighting the delicate thinness of her neck that demanded nibbling. The sheerness of the blouse softened the basic outlines of the soft bra under the blouse while at the same time showing that there wasn't a bit of foam padding within the bra. Her hands had long, delicate fingers that looked as if she could play the piano, but tipped with painted, long fingernails that wouldn't be too suitable for using a computer's keyboard; but the long fingernails were perfectly suitable for scratching a naked man's back.
Her face wasn't the classical, chiseled beauty that artists desire to capture on canvas. Her eyes were her dominating facial feature, closely followed by her luscious lips. Her almost constantly gleaming eyes were too large, too expressive, and too sultry looking to be considered classical eyes. It was easy to look into her deep blue eyes and be mentally transported to a private tropical island where you could imagine what it would be like to make love to her at the edge of the surf. Her nose was too delicate, but the slenderness made her high cheekbones look rosier. Her lips were large and lush, always inviting you to kiss and enjoy the peach flavor of her natural-colored lipstick. Her straight, mid-shoulder-length golden hair looked as if she had been born a natural blonde.
Overall, those features made Marie Tanner one of the most beautiful women that Ben had ever been able to get close enough to talk to. So what if she worked for his brother? So what if she was probably sharing his brother's bed? So what if she was going out with Ben simply because she felt bad for him because his older brother wasn't there to entertain him? Ben didn't care why she was going out with him as long as she went out with him. His little head was doing a lot of thinking for him.
Whatever had caused her to be slightly shocked when he initially walked through the door had completely disappeared, and she was acting every bit as confident and friendly toward him as if they were two old friends going out for a night on the town. There was a teasing tone to her friendly-sounding voice, a teasing twinkle in her blue eyes, a gleam in her warm smile, and a warm blush in her rosy cheeks that showed that she was enjoying his companionship as much as he was enjoying her beauty.
As soon as she finished double-checking the store's door to make sure it was locked and secured for the night, she pointed toward a large van sitting in the back of the parking lot that had the name "Rosewood Antiques" painted on the side. Not glancing back to see if he was following her as she walked toward it, she headed straight toward the van, knowing that he would follow her anywhere that she wanted to go. She jokingly declared, "One of the benefits of working for your brother is this beautiful, dual-purpose, roomy company car. In addition to being my primary transportation, we use it to haul antiques around to make sure that we get a tax break, so don't pay any attention to the mess of blankets in the back of the van that we use to protect our treasures. Since I know the local roads and where we're going to eat, I thought it would be easier if I drove us to the restaurant. You don't mind subjecting yourself to being in my absolute control, do you? I know a lot of men don't have any confidence in their manhood and always have to be in control when they're with a woman, but you don't strike me as being that type of person."
"Sounds great to me. And there's more room in the van than in my little sports car. I've got my suitcase rammed tightly into the car's passenger seat because it wouldn't fit into the small area that they call a trunk."
She glanced at the small two-seater sports car and commented, "Don't understand why single men buy cars that small. It's so small, that all you can do is live dangerously in traffic, but there's no way that you could ever get some good ass in something that small."
Slightly stunned by her words that could be expected in a man-to-man discussion but not from a woman's virginal-looking lips, he mumbled, "That's why I've got my own apartment."
She paused, standing beside the van while she patiently waited for him to open the driver's side door of the van. After he opened the van's door like a perfect gentleman, she hiked her skirt up her thigh slightly, exposing a quick flash of leg just before she stepped up into the higher-level van. Sitting down in the driver's seat, she rewarded his mandatory chivalry for opening the door with a wide smile. His eyes were distracted elsewhere as he thought that she also allowed him another fleeting glance at a little more of her quickly exposed leg through the skirt's narrow slit.
Continuing their discussion, she voiced a mild rebuttal about his choice of cars as she declared in a teasing tone, "Benji, you need to get you a larger car where you can take advantage of unexpected opportunities. You might learn how to enjoy life more."
"Uh..Benji is a family name that Randy used to call me when we were kids, and he was just trying to piss me off. How did you know about that old nickname?"
"Same way that I know that you're uncircumcised and that you paid some thirty-five-year-old prostitute to deflower you two days after your sixteenth birthday because you couldn't find any free pussy the night that you decided to lose your virginity. Your brother told me everything about his family back home. Would you like for me to discuss some more of your family secrets...to show you how much your brother trusts me, Benji?"
Ben fought the urge to ball his hand up into a fist, knowing that it was his big-mouthed brother that he suddenly wanted to punch out, not the beautiful woman that was staring at him with a funny smile on her face, waiting for some type of response from him. Holding back the anger, he tried to appear calm as he tried to change the subject by jokingly responding, "It's an old family curse that men have to deal with when they come of age."
She laughed as she changed the subject slightly but continued to talk about family things - childhood secrets that only his brother would know about. "Randy told me that you used to spend all of your money from your allowance and newspaper route on collecting bubble gum cards. Because he was three years older than you, he thought he was smarter, and he would try to get you to spend the money on impressing girls instead of buying your damn old cards. Now that he's in the antique business, I know that he's very proud of the way that you invested in your future back when you were just a snotty-nose kid."
The rest of the story is at Sapphire's Place (http://www.sapphireplace.com) and follow the links to Waldo's Stories. They are available in both Text and ZIP format.
Enjoy!
Sapphire | 3 |
6,006 | Overheard In A Corridor... | "Hey--you're a writer, aren't you?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"I thought so--I recognized the name on your badge. You do some really good stuff--I like it a lot!"
"Well, thanks!" Blushing. "That's very nice to hear. So, what was your favorite?"
"Uh...favorite what?"
"Favorite one of my stories."
"I...uh...well, I couldn't really say, exactly..."
"Have you _really_ read any of my stuff?"
"Sure! Loads--it's really good!"
"So, what's your favorite?"
"Uh...'The Orgasm'."
"Good story. Not one of mine though. You _haven't_ read any of my stories, have you?"
"Well, maybe not in the truest sense...I mean, I've read the reviews, and Celeste loves you, and..."
"So, what is this? You just want to fuck? You figure if you tell me, 'Oh, I've read your stories, oh great writer, and they're peachy,' I'll swoon and say, 'Great, let's go shag someplace'?"
"No! I mean, I wouldn't put it quite like that..."
"Well, I would! Admit it--you lied to me in a blatant attempt to try and get some sex!"
"Oh, all right, but..."
"No buts! If you wanted sex, you should have just asked if I wanted to do it--not lie to me!"
"Sorry..." Pause. Shuffles feet nervously. "Well, do you wanna?"
"Do I wanna? Do I wanna what?"
"You know--fool around?"
"Gee--I thought you'd _never_ ask!"
THE END | 3 |
6,016 | Fevered Fall | "Feel for the bubbles," her mind told her. It was odd, she thought, how book-learning intruded into her brain at a time like this. She was in womb-like blackness, black night above, black water below. She was down in the depths, and the depths would claim her forever unless she swam very quickly.
But which way?! "Feel for the bubbles," her mind told her again. Her lungs simply begged, "BREATHE!"
"Fool lungs, we are underwater," her mind replied. Then, her mind told her again, "Feel for the bubbles."
As she'd been taught in survival training, she put her hand to her mouth. She exhaled precious air from her lungs, into the water.
Then it was that she realized she was wearing leather flight gloves on her hands, and the bubbles, released from her lungs through her mouth and nostrils, escaped into the black void of the watery depths without her being able to feel which direction they went.
She gaped into the dark night of the undersea world. She tried to find the escaping bubbles with her eyes. She looked 'up'. (Or was that direction actually down?!) She could see nothing. Nothing but darkness, with the all-enveloping darkness of eternal death just around the corner from her consciousness.
Judy Dan ripped the leather flight glove off her hand. She clapped her fingers to her lips and exhaled again.
The bubbles travelled sideways off her fingertips.
Sideways?!
"Good God, we'll just be swimming sideways, deep under the bay's surface, and we shall drown!" something inside her squalled.
"No! Bubbles travel toward the surface! 'Sideways' is really up!" a voice in her head commanded.
With her lungs screaming, her mind increasingly a bewildered mass of confusion, Judy Dan swam frantically 'sideways.'
As she swam, in the rising terror of her oxygen-starved brain, she saw herself swimming through the corpses that she'd shot on Clinton Bridge.
"But they're only children!" her co-pilot, most certainly dead now somewhere down in the drowned Hoodoo, screamed to her in the depths.
Judy Dan pictured herself swimming through them. She pictured them reaching out to her and welcoming her into the eternal night of death.
Her head burst gasping and shocked from the water. The fires along the shoreline of New Washington burned into her eyes. It was the sight of rioting and death, but to Judy Dan, it was as if she were viewing Paradise itself.
Air! She inhaled. Her lungs went to work. Her mind cleared. The groping hands of the corpses, flung by her Gatling from Clinton Bridge, receded.
"And even you, Patroclus!" rattled through her mind, like dead bones written on dry leaves.
"Not tonight," her mind answered the corpses floating in the waters of the bay. "Not yet, anyway."
She swam with a strong stroke toward shore, tearing her waterlogged flight suit from her body as she went. She was like a snake shedding an old skin; boots, her other glove, her zippered jumpsuit with all her prized patches sewn carefully onto it. All gone, all the skin of her old, almost-dead self.
Tongsun Anu walked back to the stern of the boat. He came up beside Harold and stood next to him in the darkness. In the distance, he saw an Imperial Coast Guard cutter passing. It moved against the Oakland shoreline; the fires there mingled with the cutter's nautical lights.
"How's it going?" Harold asked. Tongsun nodded, silently.
"Good," Tongsun replied. "She's sailing us just fine."
The boat rocked casually with the waves. Its engine murmured like the voices of a dozen oarsmen, lashed below decks, moving a Roman warship through Mediterranean waters. Tongsun stood beside Harold. He remembered a half-learned history lesson: Rome against Carthage. Who had won? He knew Rome had been like the Imperium, in that it had considered itself strong. He couldn't remember which side won, though. He thought about it for some time. Then he remembered how powerful the Nazis had felt. He smiled. He knew the outcome of their regime. A desire for total control had ended in total failure.
A wave slapped the side of the boat. It cast up salt spray into Tongsun's face. He hoped it wasn't a bad omen. He looked at Harold. The spray had hit him too. If the Coast Guard cutter were as low in the water as their own small boat, Tongsun told himself, the water would splash the crew of that vessel too.
Harold wrapped his arms tighter around his chest. He looked at Tongsun.
"Hey T, it's cold, man," Harold said. His voice had a slight whine to it. He looked tired. They'd both been up for many hours now. Tongsun rubbed his eyes. The adrenaline rush they'd both felt up on Clinton bridge, battling their way through the throngs back to the International Port, had passed. Tongsun exhaled. He saw his breath in the air.
"I know. I'm cold too," Tongsun said.
The fog had thickened. It blurred the lights of the buildings floating above them, the Sky Dwellings. It blurred the white-lit veranda on the White House across the bay from them. They stared at the residence of the President of the Imperium on the bluffs across the water.
"Have they broken in to the Sky Dwelling yet?" Tongsun asked Harold. The blonde boy looked over at an Asian boy who wore glasses. He sat amidst a cluster of boys on the deck of the small boat they had stolen.
"How're you coming?" Harold asked the Asian boy. The Asian stared at the screen of a portable computer in his lap. It was the only source of light on their boat; on purpose, to avoid detection.
The Asian boy, named Wally, nodded. "Working good," Wally said. "Uplink works. I think I've got-- I've got it! Contact!"
There was a small cheer among the boys, and two girls, huddled on the boat.
"Keep your voices down!" Harold hissed.
"We have bush," Tongsun said.
"Huh?" Harold asked. Tongsun nodded his head, as if to disavow the unnecessary noise he'd made. "An old line from a movie," he whispered to Harold.
"Oh," Harold said. He turned and looked at Wally again. Two boys, one Hispanic, the other Puerto Rican, were staring over Wally's shoulders. Their faces were gently illuminated by the glow of the laptop's screen.
"Click on that," the Puerto Rican suggested. He pointed over Wally's shoulder at the screen.
"Really?" Wally asked. A quizzical look appeared on his face. But he followed the Puerto Rican's advice. There was the click of a mouse.
"Shit!" the Hispanic declared. His eyes, like those of the other people clustered around Wally, brightened with glee.
"We've been granted root access!" Wally said in a low voice, triumphantly. He looked up from the screen at Harold and Tongsun, standing in the boat's stern. Tongsun sighed. He looked up at the building hovering over the seaward approach to the White House.
"Their so-called 'civil society' became a playground for them and a prison for us," Tongsun said. The boat rocked. There was silence on board. Tongsun's voice had the eerie sound of a verdict being delivered on the Imperium. Several boys on deck, including Harold, nodded their agreement.
"Playtime's up," Harold said. Being with Tongsun had given him an ability to say cryptic things. Things like his Samoan friend sometimes uttered. He looked at Tongsun. He grinned. But Tongsun appeared sad, as if he wished, even now, for some peaceful way to end the regime.
"Tongsun. I'm waiting for your command to perform a Full Drop," Wally said. His voice was low, but serious. He now held the lives of all the building's inhabitants in his right index finger, the one hovering over the mouse.
Tongsun sighed. He appeared, for a moment, to doubt his mission. So many lives! He didn't even know anyone in that building! Yet he would kill them all, with one word.At this moment, they were reassuring themselves of their safety and immunity to mortality. Their cupboards were stocked with Vitamin E and Vitamin C, and they had fitness centers, medical centers, and an army of guards, maintenance people, and technicians. However, they had one very nasty bug in their computer that controlled their Lift Engines.
A wave rose up over the bow and slapped seawater into Tongsun and Harold's faces again. Tongsun blinked. He realized that the sea, like gravity, did not care about him or even the Imperium itself. The sea was implacable and unfeeling. It was a domain unto itself, and the humans in a boat lying on its surface were nothing to it. In the timeframe of the ocean, humans were but children of wayward fish, who had been foolish enough to crawl out of the sea's womb. The sea was their original mother, and like real mothers sometimes, the sea would happily swallow them back up.
Tongsun turned away from the sea and the view of the Oakland shoreline across the bay. "Thanks," he said to Wally. "Just hold it a moment. Don't click yet." Tongsun wiped the salt spray out of his eyes and motioned for the girl behind the wheel of the boat, in the wheelhouse, to straighten the boat out. "Shit," he muttered to Harold. "We're not ready."
"We've got root access," Harold said to Tongsun. "What more could you want?"
"We need to get onto dry land," Tongsun told Harold. He pointed to the shoreline, looming black and large before them.
"We just came from the International Port," Harold said.
"Yeah, but there's gonna be a big wave generated when we drop that building," Tongsun said. "We need to moor our boat and get up out of the water."
"Oh," Harold said. "You're right. There's never a time like the present to go visit Sausalito."
"Yes," Tongsun said. "But we won't have to go that far north."
Harold looked at the girl in the wheelhouse. She glanced back at them. Her silhouette stood out black and stark against the wheelhouse's front windshield. Beyond that loomed the dark shoreline of Lime Point. Harold wrapped his arms tighter against his body. It was cold, he complained to himself, and his teeth chattered. He watched the cluster of boys around the computer screen, waiting tensely for the word to drop the Sky Dwelling.
The small boat puttered toward the northern shore of the bay. A boy in the bow of the boat turned on a flashlight and scanned the shoreline ahead of them. They were quite close to it now. He looked for an opening in the rocks of the shore. Suddenly, his flashlight fell into the aperture of a small cove. His beam became lost in blackness. On either side of the lost beam stood tall, wave-worn rocks, wet with seawater round their bases, where they sloped into the bay. The wave-splashed parts of the rocks reflected the lights of New Washington and the Oakland shore.
"Holding at root directory level," Wally announced softly, staring at his computer screen.
Tongsun drew in his breath. "Time is on my side," he said in a low voice. Harold turned and looked at him in the darkness. "Then again, maybe it isn't," Tongsun added. His voice rose. "Listen, everyone," he said. "I'm worried. I'm afraid we'll run out of time to drop that building before we get ourselves out of this boat. They could detect our presence in their computer at any moment."
"Right," the Asian boy agreed, nodding.
"The dropped building is going to make a pretty big wave in the bay," Tongsun said. "It might swamp our boat. If we don't get up on dry land, the wave could drown us. Where's the person who said we should bring along Glad bags for our guns, in case it rains?"
"Here," someone said in the darkness.
"Good," Tongsun said. "Bag everything. Bag all your weapons. Do it right now. Get them in bags and stow them wherever you can."
"What if we're attacked?" a boy asked.
"Then we'll get our asses blown off, 'cause all our shit's stuck inside garbage bags down on our boat," a boy answered.
"We'll take our guns with us if we can," Tongsun said. "But if we run out of time to get up on dry land, we won't have time to haul all our guns up with us."
There was a murmur among the boys.
"No talking! Just do it!" Harold said.
"If you have a pistol, and a belt and a holster for it, no problem," Tongsun said. "Anything heavier needs to be bagged and stowed."
A sound of furious bagging ensued. The boat drew up along the shoreline in the darkness, guided by the boy at the bow, with his lone flashlight. Weapons were wrapped, and a roll of packing tape was passed around to seal them shut against the water.
"Y'know, Glad bags can be used as body bags too," a boy said. "Should we save a few in case we need to bag the president?"
"Quiet!" Harold said. A ripple of laughter passed through the boys on deck.
There was a scraping sound. "Captain, we've hit land," a boy said.
Their boat passed along a large, half-sunken rock, scraping algae off its stony surface. They moved into the hole between the rocks that formed a small cove.
Harold glanced back at the Presidio shoreline. "Too bad there's not a Sky Dwelling right over the White House," Harold said to Tongsun. "Then we could just drop the building straight down onto the president's head!"
Tongsun laughed in the darkness. "They're not that stupid, Harold," Tongsun chuckled.
"Shit! I think we've been discovered!" Wally blurted. He sounded worried and didn't bother to keep his voice down.
"Damn!" Tongsun said.
Beyond the rocks, the Golden Gate Bridge loomed. Crowds of people could be heard, faintly, jostling one another up on the causeway. There were sounds of gunfire. The D.C. Sheriffs were shooting into the crowd; the crowd was firing back. Suddenly, a Hoodoo approached from the Oakland shoreline. It passed like an auger of death beneath the overhead buildings. Without bothering with a megaphone warning, it opened fire on the crowd on the bridge.
"Damn! They're trying to eject me!" Wally cried.
Tongsun clenched his fists. "Full drop!" he yelled.
"Hang on!" Harold shouted to the boys. He gripped the gunwale of the boat and gazed skyward. A building hovering near the Presidio side of the bay trembled. Its underside dipped suddenly lower. The Hoodoo passed over the Golden Gate Bridge. It banked.
Like a whale caught by a spear, pulled by a whaling ship, but still full of life, the Sky Dwelling resisted. Wally tapped frantically on his keyboard. The Puerto Rican standing behind him gestured frantically, then grabbed the mouse, rolled it, and clicked.
The Hoodoo came in for another pass at the bridge. Its guns began blazing.
The Lift Engines on the Sky Dwelling over the Presidio side of the bay shrieked. Suddenly, the building dropped 200 feet. The Hoodoo finished its pass, rose, and slammed straight into the underside of the descending building. A cheer went up from their boat as the boys watched.
"Quiet!" Harold muttered. He stared, open-mouthed, as the building struggled against the pull of gravity.
"Dammit! I'm losing control!" Wally swore.
"It's coming!" Harold shouted. He pointed up. With a tremendous roar, its engines still fighting hard, the building lost 500 feet of altitude. Then it stabilized, briefly, jarring itself to a stop in mid-air. Sections of the building broke away, unable to withstand the force of the mid-air stop.
Then gravity won, and the building came crashing down.
There was an enormous splash. The building toppled toward Alcatraz as it hit the bay. Mixed in with the sound of the building hitting the water was the sound of violent explosions.
Their boat, its motor puttering quietly, slipped deeper into the rock-strewn cove. The view of the bay was lost to them. Tongsun stared at the rocks which surrounded them. With fear in his eyes, he gazed at the slip-channel into which they'd passed, hoping for safety.
There was a sound as of approaching thunder. Tongsun turned and looked at the huddled boys in the darkness.
"Get ready! Wave's coming!" Tongsun shouted.
The boat dropped suddenly, as the water rushed out of their cove. A second passed. The roar of thunder grew louder. The outswirling water drew the boat toward the cove's entrance. Then a scraping sound was heard, and a thud. The boat settled onto wet sand and caught itself in rocks on the sandy bottom.
Beyond the wall of rocks protecting them from the bay, a thousand horses seemed to be thundering down on them. With a mighty crash, the wave caused by the dropped building hit the rocks on the bayward side of the cove. Salt spray hurled itself over the tops of the rocks and came splashing down into the little boat. At the same time as the boat was swamped from above, the level in the watery cove suddenly rose, tossing the boat high. They were nearly thrown over the tops of the rocks, only to fall again, within the cove, and then rise up again, then fall once more. There was a splintering sound, amidst the waves, of wood cracking.
Slowly, the waters subsided. Tongsun was soaked. He looked at Harold. The boy's blonde hair was matted against his face.
"We're taking on water! Shit! The whole deck is flooded!" a boy said behind them, in the darkness. Tongsun heard splashing as people began milling about.
The sound of the boat's engine coughed and wheezed. Then, remarkably, it returned to its usual rhythm.The boat chugged out of the cove and into the bay.
"Damn. Nobody told that bitch to move the boat out of the cove," Harold cursed. He stared through the blackness at the silhouette of the girl in the wheelhouse.
"It's okay," Tongsun said. "It's okay!" His face was drenched. His bushy black hair was matted and bedraggled. But he smiled. | 3 |
6,033 | Rape Betrayal #3 | "Hey John, I am getting an early parole. I'll be out in 2 weeks! Can I stay with you?"
With that one phone conversation, John knew that his life was about to change. Again. He had not heard the voice on the phone for almost 3 years now. A lifetime for both of them. Ronald had been convicted of the brutal rape and abduction of a prominent Senator's daughter. What idiot would be stupid enough to let him out after only 3 years? Now he wanted to come stay with John and his family. Ronald could not have picked a worse time. John and his wife of 2 years, Susan, were having serious marital problems. They might have had a chance of working through them if it were not for his stepdaughter Donna. John hoped he never hated another person as much as he did that little girl. Things had only gone downhill when he was forced to take a pay cut to keep his job. Susan was forced to work to help make ends meet and was now making more money than he did. At first, she was very supportive, but lately, it was clear that like her daughter, she did not respect him. It was crazy to even consider bringing his buddy the rapist home for a visit.
Except for 2 things. 1. The Senator's daughter was not the first woman Ronald had raped. 2. He had not raped them alone - John had helped. His best friend had just spent 3 years in jail and never told anyone that John was involved. They must have asked, and little Miss rich bitch had surely gotten a good look at his face. He had loved the expression on her face when she realized that there was no escape, that it was really going to happen. He savored the sound of her begging, crying, and gagging on his 8-inch dick. The surprise when Ronald began fucking her ass for all he was worth. It had been 3 years since John had been able to enjoy a good rape. He never had the courage to do it alone. But with Ronald out, it would be just like old times. "Mi casa es tu casa, amigo. Stay as long as you want".
Susan and John were arguing again. "I am so tired of having to wear the pants in this family. Be a man, John. Start looking for another job, or you may have to start looking for another wife and a new place to live," Susan threatened. Just then, Donna walked in the room. She was a younger version of her mother - a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, heavy-breasted, ball-breaking, cock-teasing bitch. "Way to go, mom, it's about time you dumped this loser. We can do a lot better than this deadbeat," she said. John had enough. "Don't you talk to me like that. I am still your father and the man of this house. You will learn to respect me," he bellowed. Just then, the doorbell rang. Susan opened the door to find a six-foot-four, 270-lb man looming over her. He was mean-looking and had a tattoo that said "Born to Rape You" on his right bicep. "Can I help you?" Susan stammered. Ronald liked what he saw. There was a beautiful blonde piece of pussy meat. He wanted to throw her down, spread her ass, and fuck her till she bled. But he realized this must be John's wife (Damn!). "I am here to see John," he said in his low, menacing voice. John came to the door and grabbed him in a fierce bear hug. "It's been a long time, brother. Let me grab your bag, and we'll get you settled in." Susan and Donna looked on in shock as Ronald entered the house. "John, who the fuck is this, and why would you be stupid enough to think this thug would be allowed to stay in my house?" she demanded. The room got very quiet as Ronald walked over to Susan. He stared at her and said, "Bud, you better get your woman in check before I beat the living shit out of her. Nobody talks about me like that." "Susan, I think you better apologize to our guest. You will have to forgive her; I forgot to tell her you would be staying with us," John said in an oddly civil tone. Susan could not believe what she was hearing. She was scared of this hulking stranger, but she refused to be intimidated in her own home. "That's it, John. I want you and this mutant out of my home. You will be hearing from my lawyer in a few days." "I'm sorry you feel that way. Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" John asked in a resigned tone. Susan's only response was to look over at Donna. They both began to laugh at him. They would not be laughing for very long.
John walked over to Susan, grabbed her shirt, and quickly pulled it over her head. Before she knew what was happening, he had ripped her bra off as well and was pulling her shorts and panties down around her knees. "Say, Ron, why don't you tell my little family why you were in jail?" Ronald reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He grabbed Donna and fastened one end to her right hand and the other end to her left ankle. "Well, you see, ladies, sometimes me and your man like to find a nice stuck-up bitch, like yourselves, and fuck some sense into them. We're always real nice about it, and almost never cause permanent harm. I've been wanting to rape you since the moment you answered the door." Susan was sprawled on the couch, naked, shivering, and afraid. "John could not be a rapist; he is just mad and trying to scare me," she reasoned. "John, honey, let's talk. I am sorry I lost my temper earlier. I want to make our marriage work; I love you," she sniffled. John looked at Susan and said, "If you want to make it up to me, fuck my buddy good, make him real happy. It's been a long time since he had a good piece of meat." With that, Ronald began taking off his clothes. He walked over to Susan and demanded she suck his fat, smelly cock. She did not enjoy oral sex under the best of circumstances and had never tried anal entry at all. But Susan had a daughter to protect; she was scared of what might happen to her virgin daughter if she did not do what they wanted. There was no escape; they had her. She opened her mouth and took Ronald's nasty member into her. "That's right, suck me good, baby," he purred. She licked and kissed his 10-inch cock. Ronald grabbed the back of her head and began a slow face-fuck. She could not help gagging as he entered her throat. She felt John slip behind her on the couch. He positioned her on all fours and put his face in her ass. He began licking and sticking his tongue in her asshole. "No, what are you doing? That is disgusting," she mumbled around Ronald's dick. When she was good and juicy, John pressed his cock against her tight butthole. Susan began crying, "Please, John, don't. Stop!" she begged. John laughed as he filled her ass with his cock. He had wanted to do this for a long time. He was so excited, and she was so tight, he knew he would not last for long. So he decided to pound her for all he was worth. "Do you like that, slut? Does it hurt, bitch?" he shouted as he savagely raped her ass. Susan had never been in such pain; she would do anything to get them to stop. She was having difficulty catching her breath. Every time John slammed into her ass, it pushed her farther along Ronald's cock. Every time he rammed her mouth, she was forced to push back even harder on John's anal invader. As she was about to lose consciousness, she heard both men give a loud grunt. Her mouth and ass filled with hot, sticky cum. She was made to swallow and clean Ronald's shaft. Then, unbelievably, John presented his shit-covered dick for the same treatment. He pressed his shitty dick against her nose and dragged it across her eyes before sticking it in her mouth. As Susan laid panting and sobbing, both men congratulated themselves on a fuck well done. Donna was sitting in the chair with a terrified expression. She had just seen her mother brutally raped and knew she was completely at John's mercy. She regretted all of the mean things she had said to him. "Hey, John, we got a problem here. No way I'm going back to jail. What are we going to do with them? I mean, what's to stop them from turning us in?" Both women were crying now. John winked at Ronald and said, "Well, we could kill them right now...or we could make Susan here an accomplice. I sure would like to see a little hot lesbo action while we rest up. How about it, Susie? Will you rape your daughter for me?" Susan could not believe she had married such a sick asshole. But she loved her daughter and realized this was their only chance; what choice did she have? At least this way, Donna would still be a virgin, and Susan would be as gentle as possible. As the men looked on, Donna begged her mother not to do it. "They are going to kill us no matter what we do. This is wrong, Mommy; don't rape me," she pleaded. "I'm sorry, baby, but I have to do this." Ronald unlocked the handcuffs and sat down to enjoy the show. Susan pulled the shirt off of her daughter and gently removed her bra.She laid the young girl down and began kissing and suckling on her soft, round tits. She teased first one then the other until both nipples were hard. "Oh no you don't, I can see where this is going. She is not just going to lay there while you lick and suck her. I want to see this young bitch lick her mommy's pussy clean," John demanded. Slowly, Susan squatted over her daughter's face and said, "You have to lick me, honey. Go ahead, it will be all right." Donna began to methodically lick her mother. As she swirled her tongue in Susan's pussy and around her clit, Susan felt a strange sensation in her lower stomach. She began to hump her daughter's face, to grind her pussy, to squeeze the young girl's face between her thighs. Suddenly, she let out a loud groan and began to spew female fuck juice on her little girl's face. "Mom, what are you doing, you slut? You are enjoying this. You are just like them, you are a rapist," Donna screamed in a hurt voice.
John pulled Donna up into his lap and held her. "There, there, honey, don't be too hard on your mother. It is only natural that a beautiful young woman like you would turn her on. Daddy has wanted to make love to you for a long time, and I'm sure your new uncle Ronald would also. I have an idea: if you really want to teach your mom a lesson, make love to the both of us while we make her watch. That will drive her crazy, seeing her pretty virgin daughter become a real woman. It's up to you, honey, what do you say?" Donna looked her mother in the eye and said, "I'll do it, Dad. I am going to suck you both, and spread my legs so you big men can fuck me all you want. I can't wait to taste my handsome daddy's cum, and feel my big strong uncle's cock fill up my butt. I am going to be the hottest, little slut you have ever had."
Susan began to scream. She did not stop for a very long time. | 3 |
6,035 | "The Old Man's Office" | "We shouldn't be here."
"If you've changed your mind, we can just forget it."
"No! I haven't changed my mind, Dahlia . . . darling Dahlia . . . but why the old man's office?"
"Because it's safe."
"Safe!" the man exclaimed. In repose, he appeared to be a noble edifice of staunch masculinity, but there was a weakness in him that turned Dahlia's stomach. "In the old man's office?"
"Oh, don't be such a wimp," Dahlia snapped, in exasperation. "Harper Lewis is halfway across the continent, and even when he isn't, he usually works out of his apartment."
"But what if his secretary. . . ." the brawny man trailed off, looking as if he were about to burst into tears.
"Oh, Ryder, don't you know anything about what goes on here?" Dahlia asked rhetorically. "Harper gave Gertie a second office on the twenty-third floor. All Harper's calls go there, except when he is in the building. Gertie found it too isolated up here in executive territory."
"Oh. Well, I don't keep track of all the insignificant doings of the staff," Ryder pouted. "And I'm not a wimp. You just don't realize how dangerous this is."
"What? Getting our rocks off in the Great Man's office?"
"I meant the takeover," Ryder replied peevishly. "But, this too. The old bastard is no prude, but he'd be sore as a boil if he found us here. He enjoys nothing more than belittling me. And, if you think I'm a wimp. . . ." Ryder began, petulantly.
"Oh, Ryder! Honey!" Dahlia cried, reaching to pacify the offended man with a submissive hug about his waist. "Don't mind what I say, Darling. It's just when I think you're rejecting me, I get so upset I say anything."
"Rejecting you?" Ryder sounded baffled.
"You said we shouldn't be here, we should just forget about it," Dahlia declared. "That depressed me so much I called you a wimp, so you'd get mad enough to go through with it."
"I said to forget it?" Ryder was aghast.
"You did, Ryder. You know you did," Dahlia insisted. "And it hurt, because I love you so. I want to give myself to you, Ryder."
"But, I just meant not here, in the old man's office," Ryder avowed. "I mean, we should go away for a weekend, just you and me. A friend of mine has a cottage I could borrow, or there are the Bahamas."
"No, Ryder, please," Dahlia begged pressing harder into Ryder's chest. "No expensive dates, no costly gifts, no trips to exotic places, no help with my career, no money; I don't even want you to thank me. I just want you to take me, Ryder. Use me! Love me, Ryder, if you can, but take me! Take me, please!"
Awed by the intensity of Dahlia's demand, Ryder pondered--as vaguely as he ever examined another's needs--the contradictions of this woman.
Ryder Lewis had seen Dahlia Damon about the office for nearly six years. As late as two weeks ago--if asked--he would have said that Dahlia was a harsh-featured, desiccated stick of a woman who wore severely-cut, mannish suits. That she was, in fact, a pseudo male, female executive. With Dahlia pressed tightly against him--as had happened several times this week--Ryder was forced to admit he had misjudged Dahlia.
Beneath the conservatively tailored suit, his body contacted a wildly lush feminine figure. Her strength came as no surprise, except in its degree, which was somewhat overwhelming. And it did surprise Ryder that she chose to employ that strength to press her hidden charms against him, while a smile lightened her determined features into real beauty. Dahlia's countenance glowed with that fawning expression which does so much to enhance a woman, yet so few master.
"Look, I've got an idea," Ryder declared, as the intoxication of a beautiful woman, worshipping him with her eyes and body, went to his head, "let's forget about the takeover. It's all so sordid, and I don't like the idea of you spending a single second with Curt Andover. He's . . . he's some kind of animal."
"Oh, Ryder, Baby, don't be jealous," Dahlia begged. "It's so ridiculous. What could I possibly want with Curtis Andover, when I can be with you. But, we must go through with the takeover, darling. You . . . You don't know what it means to me."
"Eh . . . now that you mention it, I don't," Ryder confessed, dumbfounded. In his experience, beautiful women didn't normally offer their bodies, or risk their careers, unless there was something in it for them. "What do you get out of it?"
"Satisfaction," Dahlia answered, a suspicion of a sob in her voice. "You don't know what it does to me, how it makes me feel, seeing the inconsiderate treatment you get from these people. The old man treats you like dirt, and everyone else follows his lead. It makes me want to scream."
Much struck with the justice of her observation, Ryder impulsively pressed a kiss onto Dahlia's lips, mashing their noses together in the process. Undaunted, he slid one hand upward, scouring her heavy jacket for a concealed breast; then yelped as he impaled his thumb on the sharp point of her lapel pin.
"Oh Honey, I'm sorry!" Dahlia exclaimed, popping the wounded digit from his mouth to kiss the trifling wound.
Stepping back, Dahlia began to undress quickly. With sure, deft, movements she rapidly shed her tailored jacket, practical white blouse, and popped open the catch of her utilitarian brassiere, releasing high eagerly jutting breasts from their rigidly compressed prisons.
Watching them bounce and jiggle as Dahlia bent to step out of her skirt, Ryder forgot to minister to his injured thumb. Having shed her shoes, Dahlia swept both her panties and pantyhose down her legs, stopping at the ankles to draw them off from the toes. Pausing only to assure herself that the pantyhose were not tangled or damaged, Dahlia turned, legs parted, while she stretched forth her arms to welcome Ryder.
Had he been his uncle, Ryder might have likened Dahlia's transformation to the Venus de Milo freed from her block of marble. Since-- with the exception of beer and football--Ryder was culturally unlettered, he simply gawked.
Gripping the bottom of his clamorous tie, Dahlia backed toward an impressively outsized leather couch, dragging Ryder as though he were on a leash. While she shuffled backwards, Dahlia's other hand was busily tugging at Ryder's belt. When she felt the couch's costly leather touch her calves, Dahlia released the last catch on Ryder's pants. Another practised motion sent Ryder's boxers down his legs to join the puddle of clothes about his ankles. With a whoop of laughter, Dahlia launched herself backwards to plop onto the couch, forcing Ryder to accompany her.
Dahlia landed with her back pressed into the cool leather, while Ryder grovelled between her spread legs, the coarse weave of his tweed jacket scratching Dahlia's stomach, where his elbow prodded. Balancing awkwardly on his knees, Ryder grasped a large, looming breast, squeezing and pinching, energetically.
"Ow! That feels good," Dahlia lied.
As he repeated the maneuver on her other breast, Dahlia noticed Ryder's rigid penis peeking coyly between the parted curtain of his shirt. Digging in her heels behind Ryder's rear, Dahlia dragged him off-balance, and set him falling on top of her. Quickly, she raised her hips, and tilted to receive him.
"Ouch! Sonovabitch!" Ryder declared, as his penis bent against a bony protrusion on Dahlia's pelvis. "Dammit," he expanded, "that hurts!"
Raising himself, Ryder grabbed his rapidly wilting erection.
"Oh, poor Baby," Dahlia proclaimed, adroitly confiscating Ryder's injured member, "you stubbed your poor widdly cocky-wocky."
Gradually, the combination of mystic fingers and soothing nonsense convinced the pained penis to perform. As he hardened, Ryder deliriously hauled out his wallet and extracted a condom. Shredding the wrapper, he attempted to put it on. By the third unsuccessful attempt, he was becoming frantic. Calmly, Dahlia took the rubber and rolled it up Ryder's shaft. In five seconds it was on, and fit like a coat of paint.
Without further foreplay, Ryder guided his penis into Dahlia's vagina by hand. Once the head was securely stuffed through the labia, he rammed his penis home. Immediately, Ryder began humping and bucking, as his hands clutched fiercely at Dahlia's breasts.Humping and pumping, Ryder's mighty grunting filled the office, and eventually, slightly moved the couch. Gradually, Dahlia raised her legs to clasp about Ryder's waist. As her feet touched behind Ryder's back, he gave a great bellow, stopped, humped convulsively three times, and collapsed on top of Dahlia.
"Ryder?" Dahlia's voice sounded muffled and anxious. "Are you okay? Ryder?"
A growl sounded in Dahlia's ears. Quickly, it expanded itself into a rolling snore. "Shit!" Dahlia observed with feeling.
"Ryder," she said, after several failed attempts to wriggle free. "Get off."
Ryder responded with a complicated buzzing sound.
"I'm warning you."
The buzzing remained unabated.
Dahlia dug the heel of her foot in front of Ryder's hip. Her hand burrowed to reach the ribcage below his shoulder. With a grunt, Dahlia straightened both arm and leg, and Ryder flopped over onto his back. Dahlia rolled off the couch, leaving Ryder to his somnambulant muttering as he slid bonelessly to the floor.
Brazenly, Dahlia stalked across the office to the entrance. Checking the lock, she removed the key and returned to the desk, which dominated the huge office.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm keeping the key," Dahlia announced, a furious scowl marring her features. She took a deep breath and replaced it with her fawning smile, then turned back to Ryder, who was still resting on the carpet. "Honey, if I keep the key, you can get another, then we can meet here often."
"Er, yes, as long as the old man is out of town," Ryder agreed, reluctantly.
"It's only one more week," Dahlia reminded him, "then this will be your office."
"I guess you're right," Ryder allowed. "It is time for me to stand on my own two feet."
Putting words into action, Ryder arose from the floor, but tripped over the tangled clothing warped about his ankles, and measured his length on the carpet. Dahlia looked away, biting her lip. Starting over, Ryder managed to untangle his slacks, draw them up, and buckle them in place. A few adjustments, a twitch to straighten his tie, a quick pass of his comb, and Ryder was ready for business.
"Well, I must run," Ryder announced, "I'm already late for a meeting. Oh, are you going to see Curt tonight?"
"I'm not sure," Dahlia replied. "It mostly depends on what headway is made with Witherspoon."
"Witherspoon! Bob Witherspoon? Curt will never convince Witherspoon to make a move against my uncle," Ryder predicted. "He's too much of an old woman."
"I think he can be brought to see the advantages," Dahlia replied, carelessly.
"I doubt it," Ryder objected. "Besides, Bob Witherspoon sticks his neck out for no man."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Well, gotta go," Ryder pecked Dahlia's lips with a kiss, then stood back for her to unlock the door.
"Better not leave that behind," Dahlia advised.
Turning to look where she pointed, Ryder spied a used condom lying in front of the couch, slowly staining the carpet.
"Er... can't you take care of it?" Ryder glanced at his cuff and added, "I really am late."
"Well, it is yours, after all."
Hesitantly, Ryder raised the condom between his thumb and forefinger. He looked about in embarrassed puzzlement.
"I have no place to put it," he protested.
"Oh, for goodness sake," Dahlia exclaimed, turning to unlock the door, "just put it in your pocket."
"My pocket!" Ryder was shocked. "Never!" he avowed, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve.
With a stoic expression congealed on his features, Ryder closed his hand about the foul object. He marched across the room, and waited while Dahlia unlocked the door. After a quick peek, she swung the door open. With an expression of Homeric dignity pasted on his face, Ryder passed through the portal. Down the hall he strode, a tall, distinguished man expensively attired, holding his head erect and a soiled condom cupped in his hand.
Dahlia carefully turned the key in the lock, leaned back against the door, surveying the office. Nonchalantly, the naked woman flipped the key into the air, caught it, and delivered her opinion.
"What," she told the empty office, "a maroon!" | 4 |
6,054 | AUSTRALIAN HOLIDAY | "Where's the Polaroid?" demanded Lady Mowbray as she strode into the cell. "There's only one place it could be."
The twins took hold of the mattress and with one big heave, they tipped Jason onto the floor. He fell heavily on the tiles.
"There it is."
The Polaroid was exposed in its obvious hiding place. Jason was heartbroken. It was his only possession, and now they were going to take it away from him. He was relieved, surprised, and then suspicious when Amanda pinned it up on the wall at the foot of his bed. Nothing they ever did had his pleasure or comfort in mind. It was always done to get sexual pleasure from him or mental pleasure from tormenting him.
Suddenly, it all became clear. Every morning when he woke, the first thing he would see would be a picture of his loved one, cruelly bound, gagged, and sexually abused by these fiends. Amanda had been watching him closely.
"Bingo," she thought.
His face betrayed him. Now she would have some more pictures taken, make enlargements, and pin those up as well. With his hands always tied behind him and a gag always in his mouth, he would not be able to remove them.
"Why stop there?" Amanda thought. "What about installing a video screen and showing him videos of her? Maybe even live from her cell next door. I could put one in her cell and show her videos, too."
Lady Mowbray addressed the twins.
"Come on, girls. Bring him along. I need him for target practice."
"My God!" thought Jason. "She's going to shoot my balls off."
He resisted the twins, but a poke from the cattle prod and a shock from the belt that doubled him up soon persuaded him to cooperate. They took him into the "games" room. It was large and mainly in darkness. A few spotlights shone from an unseen roof. He was stood in one of the pools of light, the twins behind him. Amanda nodded. The twins kicked the back of both his knees. He collapsed backwards onto the floor, banging his elbows and the back of his head. The three women took off their skirts. They were wearing identical, crotchless white knickers.
Amanda disappeared for a moment into the darkness and returned carrying a two-metre steel pole. She dropped it right across his bare toes.
"Mmmmuuff." The pain was excruciating.
He lay back and closed his eyes. After a while, when the pain from his toes subsided, he realized the pain from laying on his chained wrists was just as bad. He rolled onto his side and lay there, helpless, gagged with his usual black dildo, alone in the spotlight.
After what seemed like ages, the three women returned, pushing a large, two-tier tea trolley. On top was Justine. She was naked. Her bottom was right on the end of the trolley. Her legs were spread wide and tied to the front legs of the trolley. She was on her back, and her arms were down each side and tied to the back legs. She was gagged with a black dildo. They pushed the trolley close to Jason, so that he had a good view of her. He saw her vagina was moist, as though it was freshly fucked. They parked the trolley about three metres from him.
Sarah came over to Jason and stood for a moment over him, giving him a good view up her legs. Then she sat down between his legs, with her back to one leg while she fastened that ankle to a welded loop on the steel bar. He could feel the warmth of her nylon-clad bottom against his calf. She then braced her feet against his other ankle and pushed his legs wide apart, until he thought he would split. Again, he closed his eyes with the pain. The steel pole was telescopic. Susie pulled it apart, until the welded loop at the end was next to his ankle, then she fastened that one. Finally, she dropped a locking pin into the middle of the bar, preventing it from closing and thus relieving the pain in his groin.
Amanda pulled a hook on the end of a chain from out of the darkness above him. She hooked it onto the third welded loop in the centre of the bar, then stood back. Sarah disappeared into the darkness, and he heard the rattle of chains. As his legs began to rise into the air, he saw Amanda point the controller at him, and the ring vibrator on his balls started up at a fast rate. As he hung inverted, he felt elated. She was going to relieve him!
The red light started to blink on his belt. They spun him around a few times just for fun. He kept catching glimpses of the helpless Justine. Her wide-open vagina was tantalizingly on offer. Jason saw Amanda pull a rope down from the darkness, gather up Justine's beautiful long hair, and tie the rope around it. Susie adjusted the tension so that Justine's head was pulled up off the trolley, and she could look along her stomach at Jason. It was the first time their eyes had met. Both saw the pain in each other's eyes, and they both wanted to comfort each other. Neither could speak. Jason desperately wanted to put his arms around her and bury his face in her hair.
Eventually, the women grew tired of their new game. Sarah fetched a chair and sat down on the edge of it, close to Jason's head. She smiled at him and kissed him on the nose. He heard the chain rattling as his height was adjusted so that his nose was level with Sarah's open crotch.
Jason felt someone take hold of the chain joining his wrists. They pulled him away from his pleasant view. As his arms were pulled down, there was a terrible pain in his shoulders. Sarah moved her chair forward to where he had been hanging. He was released slowly. He swung back, and his nose was buried in Sarah's vagina. She clamped her thighs around his head, and he began to suffocate. He felt someone begin to masturbate him by hand, and quickly he came to the point where he would have ejaculated but for the inhibitor.
"Ready! Aim! Fire!" Amanda pressed GO on the controller.
Jason felt the wonderful relief of an ejaculation made even more powerful by the pain in his body and his sense of suffocation. It was a brief moment of bliss. He ejaculated once. Then that cursed red light started to blink again. His packet of semen shot violently across the gap between him and the helpless Justine. It hit her on the inside of her left thigh and slowly began to trickle downwards, away from her open vagina.
"A miss. Up a bit and to the right."
Sarah pushed him away from her. His nose left her vagina, and he sucked deeply for air. She let go of him. He swung back into her vagina. He felt the masturbation.
"A Hit!"
The violence of each single ejaculation was slightly less each time, so the angle upwards had to be constantly adjusted. After the tenth shot, Justine was wheeled a little closer.
In one of his "breathing spells", Jason caught sight of Amanda strapping on a vibrating dildo. She bent down and, with the help of Susie, she passed the lead from it between her legs, up her back, and down one arm. She held the battery-operated controller in her hand, and the lead was out of the way. She was behind Justine and then moved into the darkness.
"A miss!"
"Time for me to have a go."
Sarah and Susie changed places.
He managed twenty shots before they began to fall too short to be any fun. The equivalent of about two normal ejaculations.
Sarah and Susie converged on Justine.
"Oh, no. Poor Justine," thought Jason.
He tried to struggle, but only managed to start a slight spin, causing him to lose sight of what was happening. The next time he saw her, she was blindfolded with what looked like an under slip, and the trolley was being wheeled towards him.
"We are going to let your boyfriend have his wicked way with you now. If he can get it up, that is. But of course, we will help him," whispered Sarah into Justine's ear.
Just short of him, the trolley stopped. Amanda came out of the darkness, complete with strap-on dildo. Silently, she positioned herself between Justine's open legs.
"Mmmmm." Jason desperately tried to warn her. Then he realized it was pointless.
Amanda inserted the warm, well-lubricated dildo into Justine. She put her hands on the trolley each side of Justine and pushed the dildo deep inside her. Justine was unable to move, see, or speak. Reluctantly, she decided to enjoy it. She was unable to raise her hips. She had to just lie passively and become slowly aroused.
Suddenly, the vibrator started up deep inside her."How could Jason's penis vibrate?" the French girl thought.
Amanda leaned close to Justine's ear.
"Yes, my dear. It's me."
Sarah began to gently caress one of Justine's breasts, and Susie caressed the other. Amanda turned up the vibrator.
Later, the two exhausted victims were taken back to their cells, fed, and allowed to rest. The three women sat around a swimming pool in the cool of the evening, sipping sherry.
"A good day's work, I think."
"Great. We have a fantastic new game."
"It would be good at Hen Parties. The women could take bets on how far he could shoot."
"What does the button STOP do?"
"Much the same as GO. Except it will stop him in the middle of an ejaculation, or it will pause, during continuous artificial ejaculation."
"Do you think we could convert Justine?"
"What, to a lesbian?"
"Maybe. She seemed to enjoy herself, eventually."
"It would be good if we made IT believe that she was having a terrible time and needed ITS protection."
"Maybe we could arrange for a secret note to be smuggled to him, asking desperately for him to rescue her. Telling him that she loves him. She doesn't have to be the one to write it."
"Great idea. Think of the torment that would cause him. When he can't do anything."
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
Chapter 20: Slave Jason
Jason was on tiptoes as he spied through steel bars the three women at the pool. He had a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked at the Polaroid pinned to the bare wall and wondered if Justine was close by. Jason frequently heard footsteps and creaking doors nearby and assumed it was the twins tending to Justine. He walked over to the wall and put his ear against it. But the only thing that he heard was the sound of his own heart beating.
In the morning, the twin sisters entered and began their ritual of using Jason as a human toilet as they emptied their full bladders. This servile act did not disgust the young man. He rather enjoyed it by then. Jason felt like he was sharing an intimate moment with the girls, and they seemed to be much kinder to him at these times. The warmth of the frothy brew was actually pleasant as it went down his gullet. He even began to notice the difference in aroma and taste between Susie and Sarah.
"Sarah's was the sweeter," he thought.
The sisters also let Jason dry their vaginas with his tongue.
"Toilet paper's too rough on my labia," Susie said aloud.
Jason soon learned of another talent the sisters shared. In the past several months, they had taken piercing lessons and had become quite adept at it, even piercing several body parts of some of their friends. On Amanda's orders, the twins, on this particular morning, went about the business of piercing the tongues of the two slaves. Sarah stayed with Jason as Susie went next door to Justine's cell. None too gentle, the girls used tongs to pull on the tongues of their respective slaves and daubed them with alcohol. When the needle cut through, Jason and Justine heard each other's screams. A post was placed through the resulting hole, and the slaves were given a respite from the dildo gag.
Later that evening, Amanda welcomed Jason into her bedroom for her daily ritual of oral service. She had just come from the shower, her head and body were wrapped in towels. With his hands shackled behind him, he went about his task as Amanda removed the larger of the towels and exposed her lush form. She reclined on the bed as Jason's heart turned to pudding. Amanda's body always had that effect on him. As usual, Jason crawled into bed between her legs as she casually read one of her many books.
Before he started, though, he barely said above a whisper, "Please don't hurt Justine, please..." CRUNCH!
Amanda's shin caught Jason between the legs. THWACK! Her hand slapped him hard across the face as he lunged forward. He barely managed to not topple over.
"You are NEVER to speak without permission. NEVER AGAIN! This is your final warning!"
Jason nodded in obeisance. For the next hour, the young man explored every inch of his Mistress as she rested her feet on his shoulders. With leash in hand, she directed him this way and that, even telling him to pay homage to her navel and, as a final favor, to lave her anus.
"Down on the floor, slaveboy, at my feet," Amanda cooed as she nudged him with her toe.
Jason kneeled on the carpet at the foot of the bed and needed no prodding to begin his worship of Amanda's beautiful feet. He gently bathed each toe in his warm mouth. Amanda giggled.
"That post in your tongue tickles. But it feels good."
Jason continued to adore his Mistress' feet, swirling his tongue around the ankle and wetly licking the highly arched sole. Amanda's foot was soft and warm, and Jason couldn't get enough of it. Luckily, there were two.
"Okay, footboy, time for a break. Follow me to the bathroom."
Still on his knees, Jason followed Amanda to the bathroom and listened to her lecture.
"See this tub full of water? I soaked in it a good 45 minutes after my workout this afternoon. What is it you men say? Oh yeah, 'I would drink a tub of her bathwater just to taste her pussy.' Well, you've had my pussy, so here's your payment," Amanda said, pointing her finger at the tub.
Jason was dumbfounded. He looked at the tub, then at his Mistress.
"Surely she can't be serious," he thought to himself.
"I know what you're thinking, and yes, I am serious. You are not to leave this bathroom until you lick up every drop, or poor Justine will suffer. And just to make sure that you don't pull the plug from the drain, I'm putting this choke chain on your testicles and attaching them to the commode behind you. There will be just enough slack in it for you to stand up and pee when necessary. And believe me, it will be necessary many, many times."
After she affixed her slave's balls, she shut the light.
"See you tomorrow, toilet boy."
Amanda blew a kiss and closed the door behind her.
Amanda entered her "games" room and found Justine just as she ordered. The French girl was sprawled over a padded horse with her wrists bound to the front legs and her ankles bound to the rear. Her cunt and ass were thrust lewdly and invitingly upward. Amanda stroked the smooth rounded flesh of Justine's pert derriere.
"So milky white, so perfect. I can't bear the thought of marking it with my crop. At least not yet," Amanda purred. "At least I can have some fun with your buried treasures."
Amanda buckled up her strap-on and slipped on a pair of latex gloves. She made sure that the dildo was first properly coated with her viscous secretions. Jason's agile tongue definitely caused her to spring a leak.
The Marquesa also liberally coated Justine's anus with her love fluid. It was quite tight, but Amanda managed to work two slender fingers in. When both knuckles slid past the sphincter, Justine cried through her dildo gag and nearly shattered every window in the house.
"A virgin, are we Justine. Well, I'm rather honored to be the one to pop your anal cherry," Amanda proudly declared.
Amanda had her way with the bound girl, loosening her up enough to stroke furiously. Justine even tried to push backward to meet the thrusts.
By the amount of fluid dripping down the horse between Justine's legs, Amanda knew the slave was climaxing.
"What an easy lay!" declared Amanda loudly. "Imagine the heat you could generate from a real fucking."
The Marquesa slipped the dildo from the harness and left it implanted in Justine's rump. In fact, she left her tied there like that for the night.
The next morning, Amanda opened the door to her private bathroom. She found Jason still on his knees in front of the tub, his belly grossly distended. But the tub was still half full.
"Failure will be dealt with harshly. However, I haven't the time to punish your girlfriend right now. We have an appointment in the city. I'll deal with her later. Just wait until she finds out that you were responsible for her punishment."
Jason kept his mouth shut and his eyes cast downward, even though he knew how impossible it was to have drunk an entire tubful of dirty bathwater in just one night.
Susie and Sarah readied the slaves for their outing in the city. The posts were replaced with rings as Jason and Justine had to get used to a new sensation. This time, Amanda decided to drive and chose her brand new Mercedes as the twins loaded the human cargo into the trunk. Justine was blindfolded, but Jason was not. Of course, their hands were tied behind them, and their torsos were belted together. However, they wore no gags. Instead, Susie simply joined the two tongue rings together and locked them with a small gold padlock. She shut the trunk, and the five of them were off to the big city.
Jason tried to communicate with his old girlfriend in the dark humid trunk.
"Does she know that it's me?" he thought to himself.
He could feel her hot breath on his face, and her tangled hair seemed to form a web around his entire head. He tried to articulate, "It's me, Jason!" But with the locked rings, it sounded incomprehensible.
The long drive proved fruitless to Jason. Even sweating like a bovine, Justine simply smelled as sweet as the day they first met. In fact, he hadn't been this close to her since they last made love, some eight years before.
"Oh...Sweet agony!" Jason cried out. Only no one could hear.
Jason attempted to kiss his beloved, but she painfully tried to pull away.
"Oh my god! What if she knows that it's me and thinks I'm a co-conspirator in this debauchery? Well, in a way I am. I'll never forgive myself if Justine doesn't make it through this madness," Jason wrestled in his mind.
The shiny black Mercedes finally pulled up to the rear entrance of Little B.'s Tattoo Studio. Beth greeted the three ladies and seemed very enthusiastic.The owner of the parlor was in her mid to late 20s and had spiky jet black hair with a bleached streak on each side just above the ear. She wore a black t-shirt, black bicycle pants, and black combat boots. She was only slightly taller than the twins and wore black nail polish and black lipstick on her pale face.
"Well, Amanda, where are your two new pets?" Beth inquired.
"In the boot. I thought we might discuss the menu first. Such talk might frighten them, and we don't want to do that now, do we?"
The three ladies laughed as the two slaves nearly melted from the mid-morning sun.
"So, Amanda, what shall it be? Tattoos? Branding? Scarification?"
"Well," Amanda began, "I think for the French dish, maybe something subtle. Something only those of us who are intimate with her can be privileged enough to view. Besides, her creamy flesh is just too exquisite; it would be a shame to mark it or mutilate it in any way."
"And how about the other one?" Beth asked, raising one diamond-studded eyebrow.
"That thing?" Amanda answered, "I want everybody to know WHAT he is and WHO he belongs to."
"I think I understand," Beth responded and smiled approvingly. | 6 |
6,063 | On French Soil | "A tough boil to lance, I am 'fraid," Talbot said, disturbing Sir Edward de Valence's thoughts of the bound Catherine cached away in his luggage wagon.
Edward's eyes once again looked at the two towers he was commanded to take. Though Harfleur herself had surrendered, the villains in those accursed towers had not. On the morrow, Edward planned to array three cannons against both and pound them night and day until their senses were shaken back into their heads. If not, damp hay would be mounded around them and set aflame. The smoke would drive them out.
"Indeed, Talbot. But they will fall. The soil is hallowed by our blood, and the town is English today and forever. They will leave or they will die. Come, fair Talbot, let us see the rest of our prize lodging and give thanks for it."
Catherine D'Astier was not giving thanks to her lodging as she lay bound hand and foot beneath the scratchy blanket Edward had tossed over her. The desire in her womb had not been sated by the empty bottle, and her bindings were raw upon her ankles and wrists from the effort. The yearning in her quim continued despite her fatigue.
She could not move much, and every effort now caused ache in her joints and blissful agony where her pleasure-swollen nipples scraped against the blanket. The bottle she sought her wanton solace in was now poking between her thigh and swollen lips, and her need to relieve herself was growing.
Catherine wondered about what was to happen now. The baggage wagon she was in had moved twice, the last just a very short distance. She was the English's prize, and she knew he would have his fill of her before discarding her like a broken flagon. It was how long of a draught he would have of her before that was to happen. It was up to her to make it last as long as she could.
The English, Edward, liked Catherine's lithe looks. She could see it in his hazel eyes as they feasted upon her ivory form. He relished what she could do with her lips around his pricker. She was now glad that her cousin and her other lovers had taught her the lessons no friar could. They would be her salvation. To please the English ogre would mean life for her.
Catherine could also see in Edward de Valence's eyes a hatred that had been boiled to a hardness that no one could soften. What caused the anger, she did not know, but it was against her father Phillip, she was sure.
Catherine's father was an enigma to her. To him, she believed, she was just another pawn in his game of groats and florins. Catherine knew her mother was such a pawn. Adele D'Hainault was of a well-landed family whose connections with the court were as tightly woven as any spider's web. She was rather a plain woman but a spirited one whose mettle was passed from mother to daughter. Adele had borne six children to Phillip before she died of the Death. The Death also claimed one of Catherine's brothers and her only sister. Their deaths left Catherine as the sole woman of the household, and her mother's duties fell upon her. Phillip seemed not to care as long as things were kept in due order. His lust for appointment and filled coffer kept his attention.
Deep down, Catherine knew her father would not pay her ransom.
This realization overwhelmed her, and she began to sob quietly to herself.
The second story to Edward's billet was like the first, divided into three rooms, all having beds and benches. The corner room had a large, canopied bed as well as a window overlooking the river. This room also had a sturdy oak door with iron fittings and an arrow loop, as well as having thick walls. The merchant who built this home was more than just a leathercraftsman, and it suited Edward well.
"Talbot, I want all the men to comb our camp for anything we may have left as well as anything left by any others. I need the quiet to plan the breaking of the towers."
"Indeed, m'lord."
Talbot left without another word.
Edward followed him a short time later and found the building deserted save him and the woman bound in his luggage. Quickly, he opened the wagon's door and tore off the blanket covering his prize.
Catherine was huddled on her side, and the smell of her urine and lust filled Edward's nose. Her slender face was puffed red with tears, and her long, dark tresses were in a tangle about her. Her gag was still in place, damp with her drool, and her bindings were still taut. Her dark, doe-like eyes looked up at him in anguish as he reached down for her.
This time, Catherine did not struggle as Edward lifted her over his shoulder to carry her. She was as easy for Edward to lift as a yearling would be. Her slender, marble-white skin was smooth and warm as he hugged her arse to keep her from falling. The smell of her perfume was still strong, and Edward's lust for this D'Astier she-bitch was growing again.
Catherine was glad to be out of the wagon. The smell of her own urine was still strong in her mind, and she never felt so helpless. The English's hands were warm and firm upon her bottom, and they felt good. She did not recognize the house they were in, but she knew she was still in Harfleur. Her wrists were still bound together and tied to her bound ankles, however, despite the English's shoulder poking into her belly sorely, she did not dare move lest she fall and hurt herself even more.
At last, after passing through two or three rooms, the English dropped her onto a huge, canopied bed. Catherine could only see the lead-colored sky outside and the swirls of smoke that still rose wraith-like into the air. Nothing else was recognizable.
"Are you going to behave, Catherine, and not act like a wild mare?" Edward asked, his voice low and gravelly.
Catherine nodded, a quiet mewl coming from her gagged mouth.
Edward smiled and stood back a little to survey his prize. Catherine was slender in build, and her skin was the color of milk, though now she needed to be washed of the soot and grime that clung to her. Her face was narrow, and her lips were like petals on a rose. Her nose was slight, and her ebony eyes looked slightly cat-like. Her tangled hair was long and black and would cascade down her back a great way. Her neck was as slender as the rest of her, and her breasts were the size of ripe apples, her nipples dark and long. Catherine's belly was as flat and smooth as polished stone, and her nest was dark and thick. All of her bound limbs were slender, and Edward could feel a wanton ache in his groin for this woman.
"I am going to untie you briefly so that you are more comfortable," Edward told her in her native French.
Rolling her onto her stomach, Edward began to untie those knots he had tied last night. The knots were difficult, pulled tighter by her struggles, but soon he had her ankles unbound and as well as her wrists.
Catherine felt the bindings come off of her hands and feet, but there was a numbness in them that made it hard for her to move them. It was as if her body was betraying her when Edward rolled her back over and bound her wrists again, one to each bedpost above her head. The English then did the same to her ankles until she was spread and exposed before him. She turned her head away, closing her eyes and knowing what was to come. She was all out of tears.
The cold water came as a shock, and instantly she was looking to see what was happening. Her eyes met Edward's dark, hazel ones, and she saw the slight smile in them. He had a dripping cloth in his hand and was washing her body with it. Slowly but firmly, he washed each foot and leg, working his way up until the cold, sodden cloth was washing her belly. Then the cloth began to caress over her breasts, now flattened because of her position. It was a slow, lover's caress, not harsh at all, and Catherine let out a mewl of pleasure despite herself.
Edward caressed her nipples, feeling their stiffness beneath the cloth.He rubbed the cloth over them and around them, causing his captive to moan gently through her gag. Slowly, he worked his way up her chest and gently began to wash away the grime from the curves of her face. There was no longer the look of fear in her dark eyes, only a look of coy curiosity.
Then Edward bent down and kissed her on her forehead.
Edward's kisses did not linger there. Catherine closed her eyes and felt his warm lips and rough beard caress her cheek and neck, and felt his breath when he nibbled at her ear. There were slight purrs of pleasure rumbling in her throat as his kisses moved down her neck and over her upper chest.
The English's kisses were lingering, and it seemed like an eternity before his lips came to one of her nipples. He did not take it into his mouth, rather he kissed around it, caressing her areola with his tongue.
Edward then kissed the tip of her one nipple before going on to the other, never actually taking it into his mouth.
Then Edward stopped.
Catherine slowly opened her eyes and watched Edward undress. By the light of day, he looked less menacing. The Englishman was a tall, broadly built man. His shoulders and arms were burly with muscle, and his chest was barrel-like and was covered with his dark hair like moss covers a rock. The scar across his stomach was more visible now, its purple wake crossing the rippled flesh of his belly. His legs were sturdy, and as Edward pulled his hose down, his rampant member stuck out of his dense, dark bush like a thick pike.
After undressing, Edward crawled into the bed and pulled the curtains shut around the bed, save for the side facing the window. Edward wanted to drink in Catherine's beauty as he knelt between her open sex.
Again his lips met Catherine's flesh, and now his teeth nibbled at her passion-aching nipples. Taking each one into his mouth, Catherine felt every pulse of bliss racing through her as she lay bound and at his mercy. She felt her hips rocking with the ancient rhythm and the hot, solid flesh of his penis pressing against her thigh.
Edward's hands gripped Catherine's hips and lifted them off the bed as Edward positioned himself before her gates. Her nest tickled at his swollen head as Catherine writhed in the limit of her bonds, wanting him deep inside her. Her lips were swollen red and glistening with passion. He poked his head in enough to make it slick before plunging it in.
Catherine's heated quim engulfed Edward's member in ecstasy, her silken muscles gripping Edward like a milkmaid's hand upon a teat. The rhythm of their passion was slow at first, and Catherine was frustrated by the bonds holding her arms and legs apart. She wanted to dig her heels into Edward's thighs and force him into her faster, but Edward had a slow rhythm of his own, and the mewls of want from behind Catherine's gag just made him want to enjoy her fruits more slowly.
Edward's pace quickened as he gripped her hips, forcing her into his rhythm, not the wanton fervor of her own. Her moans had become louder and shorter, almost a chant of lust.
The wanton fires of pleasure in her womb raged through her like a blacksmith's forge, the heat building white hot with every stroke until Catherine was consumed in the heat of bliss.
Below him, Catherine's moans had become one long one as her body writhed in its bonds as if possessed. Edward felt his own seed boiling up within him and he fought to hold it back. The longer he held, the more pleasure in the end. Stroke after stroke, he rammed into Catherine until he could hold off no longer and flooded her womb with his spent.
The heat of his seed burned through Catherine and pushed her orgasm further until her body was not her own as the pleasure wracked through it. She felt his arms embrace her helpless body and hug himself to her as his rod withdrew from her. She loved the warmth of his body and would have returned the embrace if she was not bound.
Edward lingered above her, looking at her lovely face and the raven tresses that ringed her head like a halo. He moved to her side and slowly caressed circles around her still erect nipples, over her smooth belly and through the damp, dark curls of her nest.
"Catherine?" he whispered.
She opened her eyes slowly, a grin glinting from them as she looked into Edward's hazel ones. Though her mouth was gagged, Edward could see a slight smile around the soaked cloth.
Edward looked around the bed and found the cloth tie for the curtain. With one swift pull, he ripped it down and coiled it beside Catherine's head. Edward then gently lifted Catherine's head and began to untie the gag.
"Promise me not a sound or word, Catherine, or I will leave this rotted rag in."
Catherine nodded, saying something unintelligible into the gag.
Edward unwound the gag from between Catherine's lips and threw it to the side.
Catherine worked her lips and jaws. They were full, sensuous lips, like petals of a perfect red rose wanting for the bee to kiss. She did not say a word but looked at Edward with a puzzled frown.
"Yes, Lady Catherine?"
"You told me not to speak."
"So I did."
"I am doing so right now, Englishman."
"Indeed."
"You are a beast, Englishman. A filthy dog of the devil." Catherine's words spat, but her voice lacked the strength it did earlier.
"My name is Edward de Valence, Lady Catherine, not Englishman, and I am going to be your lord and keeper until your ransom is paid. But my first chore is to find some suitable clothing for you. I cannot have you like this, though it pleases me to do so," Edward's fingers traced through Catherine's nest of dark curls.
"As if, m'lord de Valence, I have a choice in this matter."
"You do not, Catherine."
And with those last words, Edward took the cloth curtain sash and pulled it tightly through Catherine's lips, her protesting screams muffled as Edward wound the cord around and around her head until she was fully muffled. All the while, Catherine kicked and struggled against her bindings that held her tightly.
"I shall ungag you, Catherine, when I return. I will find someone to watch over you until my return. You are more valuable to me, Catherine, than you can ever know."
Edward then pinched Catherine's nipples until the pain made her scream.
"I shall return, my pretty ride."
Edward drew the curtains around the opening, completely enclosing the bed in a musty dark. It took Edward but a moment or two to get dressed and to shut the large door behind him. Luckily, Talbot had already placed one of Edward's locks upon the door and left the key within it. With a click, Catherine would be alone in the dark, a bound prisoner of Edward's lusts.
As Edward made his way down the stairs, some of his men had started ambling in and setting themselves down on the floor and closing their eyes. Edward could feel their weariness as he greeted each one with a pat or a nod or a joke. But as these small gifts of camaraderie were exchanged, all there knew of the coming hardships in breaking the other two towers. The wrestling of the bombards into place, the constant ear-numbing roar of each canon pounding shot after shot day and night and the odd arrow shot at them from the besieged. Their stay in Harfleur would not be the rest they sorely needed.
Edward sought solace outside in the cold misty rain, huddled within his cloak's warm womb. As he ambled through the muddy streets, his eyes searched every cloaked person to see if was one that he needed to speak with.
"M'lord de Valence?" a voice called out in back of him, a lilting, robust woman's voice that Edward knew in a moment whose it was.
"Margaret!" Edward nearly yelled as he spun around to see her standing in a doorway well out of the rain.
"Do not just stand there looking like a wet dog, come in, come in," she motioned.
Edward rushed into the hallway, dark for lack of candlelight, however, in the doorway, Edward could make out his favorite 'washer woman'. Her hair was the pale red of sunsets and her eyes were green with laughter. She had a wide, smiling face to go with her eyes. The top of her head reached to Edward's chest, but her curves suited her well. Edward's head had rested on her ample bosom many times during many campaigns, both before and after his wife had died. Her son was one of the gunners in Edward's command.
"M'lord de Valence," she smiled as she hugged him, "How I have longed to feel those arms around me again! It has been so long."
"Indeed, it has been too long, my Margaret."
Margaret looked into Edward's hazel eyes and saw something in there, a sullenness that made his smile bittersweet.
"What is wrong, my Edward?" she asked.
"Margaret," he said slowly, "I need to ask of you a favor..." | 4 |
6,065 | The Ride of Her Life | "Leila, bring me a pony, will you? I'm off to class."
"Yassuh, but she a fresh 'un. Not broke in yet." The brown stabler laid aside her broom and came to the edge of the barn's yard-high platform, caressing her broad rump with her pink palms. "Tender, you know. She in for surprises here."
"Well, it'll be the worse for her then, won't it? Bring her on anyway. This heat forbids walking. What gives her over to your good care so soon, Leila? Our students don't usually visit the disciplinarian on their first day."
"Slapped a handler, sah, right off the train from town yesterday. Somethin' 'bout impertinence." She big menial spat out the word in a chirpy falsetto and narrowed her nostrils, affecting disdain.
"Oh, wonderful. Rebellious, eh? I really haven't time to do your work for you, Leila, but if she's all you have, she'll have to do. I'll need a seat belt, I suppose, and let's use the punishment reins on this little filly, but don't produce them until she's comfortable. She might pee all over your immaculate porch at the sight of them. And I think a two-foot whalebone."
"Yassuh. What size saddle?"
"Has she been, ah, evacuated?"
"Yassuh. She clear as a bell. And," she added slyly, "she woman-sized for her age."
"Then I'll leave it to your discretion, Leila, depending on how much correction you think she needs. And spice it up. We'll give the brat a vivid memory of her first day at Spurwood."
"An' how," smiled Leila. She disappeared in her bright print dress through the black aperture of the rambling structure after her freshman charge, barely creaking the dry boards of the old platform. For her not inconsiderable size Leila moved deftly. As disciplinarian of last resort in a girls' school housing only the worst of miscreants, clumsiness or indecision would have ill become her.Leila's big hands blurred at the girl's wrists and tossed their fetters aside. The slave's arms hung, still deadened, as her mistress braced and gripped her armpits, hefting her. "Slide your toes into the pedals, monkey," she commanded, "and hold the handlebars. You're going for the ride of your life."
Leila didn't even grunt as she swung the girl over my head and eased her slowly down, levitating her in front of my perch. The girl's protruding ass -- big, firm, violently pinkened by Leila's preparatory paddle-swats -- rolled and dimpled no more than 18 inches from my nose as she seesawed her still-pinioned knees, searching for purchase with her feet and slowly-awakening hands.
She found both, sliding her hands into the curiously-gloved sculpted handlegrips and arching her pretty toes downward into the shoe-like bike pedals. When Leila saw the girl was about to take her own weight on her feet and hands, she nodded at me and let go.
We had done this before, of course, and were ready. The girl couldn't have known. Her whole body tautened and strained upward, and I heard a flatulent, sputtering whine through her butt-plug gag. I kicked closed the hinged heel-restraints on the bike pedals and heard them ratchet home over the naked girl's insteps, while Leila yanked tight her wrist-restraints, fettering the girl's hands in the closed grips. Our little miscreant wanted to jump into the next county, but she had nowhere to go.
The minuscule needles carpeting the grips and pedals would have been minor irritations to a washerwoman or country girl, but they were shocking insults to leisured young city girls given to hand cream and pedicures. While too short to cause deep punctures or severe bleeding, they were sharp enough to stab and harry at tender skin, like a burr chestnut rolled between the palms. They were barely tolerable if the sufferer constantly shifted her weight between all four stinging fulcrums, as our pony was now doing, but several minutes of this defensive squirming was normally the limit before an escape was necessary.
But escape to where? I knew from many previous trips on Spurwood's devilish rickshaws that sooner or later, depending on the driver's pain threshold, she simply had to distribute her weight elsewhere. This girl was already circling and squatting her magnificently rotund heart-shaped ass, frantically searching for a seat that should be, must be, somewhere under her. Still collared to her shitty muzzle, she couldn't see below or behind her, and she strained down against the bar still pinioning her knees, creaking the leather straps.
What a difference, I thought appreciatively, 24 hours and a little legal leverage can make. Only yesterday at this time the little bitch before me would have disdained my admiring so much as her earrings, and she was now begging me to inspect every velvety millimeter of her exposed underside.
Leila had shaved bare her soft pink pussy-cleft and convex baby-fat mons, both of which were raised up and forced rearwards, doggy-style, by her desperate attempts to arch off her needly perches. Her labia were fat and close-set, pillows of dewy denuded flesh that audibly snicked open and closed now as she struggled. The redder vaginal cusp flared reluctantly between the lips' moist aperture, narrow and velveteen, topped by a puffy hooded clitoris.
Leila dropped the phallus, fixed to a sturdy pipe, into its seat tubing with her gloved hand. I tightened it down, bringing my nose within inches of our driver's still-gyrating bottom. Fully fleshed as her buttocks were, they appeared smaller once the huge dildo was affixed, stern and implacable, under them. It stood waiting, inexhaustible, its knob perhaps a foot from my jaw as I sat forward, the girl's abundant globes eddying and kissing at eyebrow level.
Leila undid the bar at the pony's right knee while I unbuckled the left, and the black overseer slid the girl's fetter away, allowing her to squat even more lewdly. This she immediately did, scissoring her cramped thighs wide and splaying her asscheeks and delectable cunt down, toward the unknown.
Off-center a bit, she poked the giant cock into her right buttock at first, and I watched it sink into the unresisting globe before she jerked back up, startled by the unexpected object. She experimented again, this time more slowly, and this time the cockhead bumped the perineum and slid slickly forward, nosing apart the shaven cuntlips. Again she shot up and hovered, trembling, thinking, fearing the worst. She knew suddenly what it was under her.
"Phobos and Deimos," I said to Leila languidly, drinking in the impudent fatness of the 16-year-old's hesitant buttocks. "The two moons of Mars. Fear and panic. The Greeks were anything but clinical in their heavenly nomenclature."
"The Greeks," Leila chortled, "are about to learn something from this girl."
The girl heard, and though inexperienced sexually she must have known some sexual allusions at least. For she began to heave and snort, furiously pulling at her bonds in a tantrum-ic last-ditch bid to escape her assigned task. The bicycle shivered and squealed, and its front tire skipped and hopped in the dusty courtyard as the buck-naked girl wrestled it, trying to pedal away, to jump off, to run back into Leila's dark stable and be hanged upside down again from her knees, anything, anything but this.
"Duck, professor," Leila said casually, hefting her paddle in both hands and measuring the girl's ass. I wriggled backwards in the seat and did as she said. A brown blur painted itself with a CRACK into the girl's bouncing sulcus-flesh, where buttocks cupped thighs. The impact reverberated through the bike's skeleton, and I saw the girl's ass flatten under the paddle and rebound. Leila quickly gave her another double-armed CRACK, higher up where she couldn't fully clench her jutting, deeply-set buttock crowns. The rear wheels, with my weight on them, nearly jumped off the ground. Ripples from the stroke ran round the girl's full hips, bloated as they were by the tight waist-belt, and violently jiggled her thighs. Wide bands of red pebbles leaped up and glowed where the paddle had struck.
I saw the instrument fly into Leila's right hand and point at the sky just as the girl preened forward away from the bottom-punishment, her chest outthrust, her face ratcheted up in a burbling butt-plugged whine of pain. God, Leila had timing. Lips set, the black menial swatted the pony's breasts with a WHACK that spattered an echo like a damp firecracker's across the open courtyard. From behind her, I saw for an inexpressible second tit-flesh balloon under her armpits, then disappear as they bounced back.
The girl spasmed. A nervous mist of urine suddenly sprayed wildly from between her legs, twirling hot droplets of pee across my pantlegs and raining down her own thighs. A helpless FART broke from her rectum and slowly keened away to a hiss with the giddy shower of pee, bathing my face with sour fruit and buttermilk odors, not entirely unpleasant. I could but imagine the effect the stroke had had on the girl's heavy and tenderized tits, ballooned and haltered as they still were by the tourniquet-like straps.
"Dirty little monkey," Leila scolded, clattering the paddle onto the barn's stoop. "If you weren't already fixed, you'd lick Master off." She slid her brown hand between the girl's piss-glistened legs, mopping the acrid dew from the insides of her thighs and scooping more from her wetted sex lips. I saw her gleaming hand go gently to the girl's face, where she slowly massaged the warm urine into it, finally wiping the damp detritus on the girl's heaving and no doubt bruised breasts. We waited, saying nothing, listening to the girl's desperate nasal panting and watching her tire. She was a plucky one, I thought: no Spurwood pony in recent memory had resisted the needles quite so long. To draw her down onto the waiting phallus would have been a simple enough exercise, but coercion would make it less humiliating for the girl. Much naughtier, and I needn't add more entertaining, was to let the little bitch initiate her own anal punishment.
This she did, but only after a diverting attempt, common among first-time drivers, to silently plead for softer duty. Bucking her hips back and slowly descending on the organ, she first eased the cockhead between her cuntlips and swirled the fleshy rose around its stolid eye, opening and lubricating her fat labia. Getting no immediate reprisal for this unpermitted act, she quickened her eager humps, snickering the tight glove of her young quim over the slick cock's knob.
Leila laid into my outstretched right palm the familiar handle of the prescribed riding crop. A favorite of mine, it was a licky and wobbly length of cylindrical whalebone that tapered to infinity, shrunken over with drum-taut calfskin and tipped with an indestructible tassel of knotted sinew that snapped and bit like a rabid animal. I had used it often with wonderful corrective effect.
I remembered a biggish new girl belted over one of our older blocks had once broken her knee restraint at this vicious crop's welcoming kisses, frantically kicking out at me with her near leg and squealing for respite, spooling out a yard-long hose of pale yellow behind her. The remaining cuts and more had searched the intimate folds her strapped legs had hidden, bucking her through the ordeal like a hornet-stung mare.
I had explained to the brash young juvenile, between metronomic licks of the crop's knotted tongue, that we had reasons for restraint here at Spurwood, that our laws, like those of physics, made sense and were broken only at the rebel's misery.This lesson had been driven home by her wearing of the foreshortened knee strap as a continence belt for the rest of the term, the half-inch rawhide hiking her cervix to her stomach but for chaperoned latrine visits, carving her broad, flabby belly into mock buttocks for the amusement of all onlookers. Leila had also pierced the girl's big nipples and wired her thumbs to them, hands reverently crossed, to frustrate fidgeting and encourage contemplation of her dire plight. She had broken no more school equipment for the remainder of her stay.
The squatting young miss now in front of me was also testing our laws, and would soon find them as iron as gravity's.
I let her force the cockhead, not without difficulty, into her slickened and reddening pussy-purse. She bounced gently up and down on the broad mast, carefully purchasing millimeters of the head, over which her bare twat lips were gradually closing. This was the largest prong that had ever been up her -- and probably ever would be -- but it wasn't to last as long as she thought.
She straddled wider and eased another several inches of the engine up her, engulfing the cockhead completely and beginning her distended slide down the bulbous prick. The muted whimpering in her throat was, I suppose, a mixture of pain, dread, and perhaps surprised relief that we were allowing her this compromise.
We weren't. I let her stuff maybe half the greasy cock into her vagina, enough to unwittingly coat it with the still-dormant lubricant, before I hit her. I backhanded the loose-limbed crop into her left buttock, watching it lap a valley into the unsuspecting flesh, bite with a crisp WHICCKKK and spring back, shivering. It was little more than a reminder stroke given the awkward positioning and lack of room, but I knew it was agony for the untrained girl and that the searing pain would build and stab to a peak after a slow four count.
I waited exactly that long and carved the spiny shaft harder diagonally and down across the right buttock, which was forced out against the bluish weal stitching itself over the left, now cringing doglike. The whalebone wheezed into the bouncy right rump with a raspy whine, puckering the globe and squeezing a last dry hiss of complaint from the frightened girl's bowel, vised as it was by her clenched cheeks and prodded inside by the monstrous cock.
The girl didn't wait for the third stroke. She struggled off the member with an audible SSNOOOPP, squirting the black tube from her as if it were on fire. She would soon think it was. I gave the crop a practice WHEESH in the air next to her hip, signaling what further delay would bring.
She lunged her anus to the cockhead and buried it immediately, the big white inverted heart of her ass spread wide open and pushing as it had never pushed, a mournful groan rising from her plugged throat. The anus widened, yielded, and clamped closed over the massive head, and Leila ordered, "Hold, girl." She was screaming now into the gag.
She obeyed, while I drew the tongue of her leather garter belt through the bike's clamps and buckled them taut. She was now impaled for the remainder of the ride, try as she may, and would, to extrude the burning serpent from her. Her only "choice," could it be called that, was how many inches of the punishing seat-dildo she wanted plumbing her young belly as she pedaled. She could drive the highly-geared bike either sitting or standing, as it were, but could hold neither posture for long. She was to be a slave of Spurwood's terrain, a frequent target for the whip, a victim of the acidic venom soon to catch fire in her pussy and bowels -- in short, a very busy young lady.
Spurwood's rickshaw was actually ideal training for servicing the male member. I had seen it work many times. Shy and hesitant movement on the seat-cock only slowed the driver's progress; they found within moments of departure that only rhythmic and enthusiastic pistoning on the phallus, with brief rests between, got them anywhere. We only taught our students what life would later teach them.
The needles were driving her down. She had been too long on them, and must sit. She shoved half the slippery cock up her at a single ardent stroke and took the rest by fractions, bouncing and whimpering, the small of her back canyoned and her entire weight pitched into the task. I could see her bowed belly curving up beyond the oiled crotch and impossibly distended anus, and it was slowly inflating, cock-pregnant, yielding its innermost depths to the phallic burden.
Have I neglected to describe the resting-place awaiting our driver? Forgive me. Imagine a broad panty-crotch extending forward from the anus and cupping the mons like a glove, a contoured pussy-nest that would bear weight long enough to relieve feet and hands. A panty-crotch whose tines fanned up and out in a concave rictus of gleaming Sheffield steel, dotted with waiting needles exactly like those the girl was escaping.
Such was the unholy base of the phallus onto which she finally settled, penis-glutted, whinnying. She sat, stone-still, her knees and elbows veed up off their tormentors, her spongy crotch helplessly gripping the needled seat buried in her bare labia. I think she was truly beyond surprises by now.
I stood behind her and reached down, cupping a bottom-cheek in each hand, touching her for the first time. She jerked. They were hot, a little downy, smooth but for the single welt scarring each. I yanked them apart and she grunted, settling deeper still on the rude prong up her arse. They can always take more.
I put my lips to her left ear. "Get used to that plug up you, Miss," I said gently, receiving a mournful and glassy sideways stare. Her face gave off a feral odor of piss and sweat, tear-diluted. Brownish drool ran over her chin from the gag's base. "We have study desks similarly equipped," I added, "for fidgeters and slackers. I think you'll qualify for one of them." As I spoke Leila poured into my right hand a pool of light chain with two heavy rings sewn along its length.
I reached around the girl's waist and palmed the metal objects, shaking out their attaching reins. Called "tit bits" for want of a better description, they were handcuff-like ovals of flat steel, hinged at their junctures and spring-loaded beyond rattrap strength. Squeezed open and pushed over the breasts until they could gather no more flesh, thin serrated jaws clamped and held upon release. The unfortunate wearer felt her teats bitten and weighed down by a pair of demonic infants starving her very chest of tender skin, voracious imps dislodged by no amount of pleading or shaking.
The girl gargled on her gag and suddenly began humping the full length of the penis up her. The slumbering poison sap had awoken, goading her to desperately buck against its heat, escape it, appease it. No mercy could be found in the dumb mixture, of course, and even less in me. Ass cheeks flowered wide open, braced again on hands and feet, the squatting teen avidly rode the buttcock as if trying to exhaust it, limpen it, expel it from her burning entrails. Slucking up to its tip only to be jerked short by her gartered belt, she shook the implacable knob with her sphincter, then with a groan forced herself down its full length, bumping off the spiky base and squirting back up. The searing lotion demanded movement, the big penis punished the same; the maddened girl might as well have been tied over a block and buttfucked by our biggest field-hands, for all the choice she had in the matter -- and when she was given such duty, as she would be, she would beg for more penises and grip them gratefully lest she be returned to the pony pool. This is fact, dear reader, not conjecture.
"You move that big bottom nicely, young miss," I whispered in her ear, cupping her swaying breasts with the bits, yawning now in my hands. I'm fairly strong but I always had trouble holding the things open for long. Her arse-cheeks helplessly stroked my stomach as I walked the open clamps up her tits, letting her feel the cool metal and small, sharp teeth. Her nipples were rubies poking into my palms, her aureoles hard rubber balls, her lovely breasts big honey-laden silken sacs. I put my right cheek to her left and watched her eyes, bulging and pleading, swivel down to her chest.
"You'll feel a pinching, not intolerable," I told her quietly, "and when I release the pedals of this conveyance, you will take us to class. We will encounter various forks in the path en route, and I shall direct you with a tug to your right or left breast. You will stop, for as long as I desire, when I pull on both. The scenery along the way, for myself at least, is quite entrancing and deserves leisurely study. Try to ignore the whipstrokes to your bare bottom. They mean nothing, other than that I enjoy whipping you. A vial of ammonium spirits in my possession will ensure that we reach our destination, should you think fainting will relieve you of duty. Oh, and your first act in class," I concluded, "will be to relieve me with your mouth, on your knees in front of your fellow students. And if you miss so much as a drop while swallowing, you'll get today's duty for the next week. Am I understood?"
She shook her head "Yes" violently, whimpering assent loudly though the cock-gag, her eyes pleading into mine.
"Good," I answered, and released the bits. They jumped from my hands and instantly the girl's two breasts were four, each cleft in half and bubbled into two smaller globes, punctuated by the steel teeth. I heard the faint metallic creak of springs as the jaws settled into their soft pillows, and the girl's outer globes began to pout and slowly turn upward, distorted pink fruit seeking the sun. I knew, if she didn't, that the outer halves would be as purple as King Henry's robe by journey's end.She kinked her elbows in as far as her fetters allowed and hunched her shoulders down, trying to mitigate the bits' fresh steel bite compounding the dull ache of her chest strap. Her lips were drawn back now in a concentrated trembling frown, a hint of pearly teeth showing where they clenched the butt plug's base.
I eased back into the rickshaw, looping the girl's reins loosely in my hands, holding the crop in my right. I gave an investigatory tug on each and felt a springy rebound, hearing her grunt gutturally. She was sitting again, the spikes spearing her pussy, the wooden meatus up her ass to its last millimeter. A steady river of sweat ran down her back and bathed her bare buttocks, dribbling off her into the dust.
"It's been... interesting, Leila," I told the overseer, who was standing and smiling at the girl, arms crossed and paddle held high like a standard. "We'll see you this evening, after the young vixen here has been soundly lectured in Spurwood comportment."
"Ah think she done already been," Leila laughed, picking up her bag and turning for the stable. | 4 |
6,081 | SISTERS | "Nikki, come to me... Come to me..." a female voice implored.
Nikki couldn't say who was calling her so desperately. The girl's face would sometimes materialize in her mind, or dissolve in the next moment as mist on a sunny day. Nikki reached out for the other girl, but their fingers never touched, as if an invisible wall stood between them. Nikki screamed, calling for the girl, who resembled her in so many ways. Her heart beat faster, and she could feel the acid accumulating in her lungs and muscles, because the other girl kept falling and falling... away from her...
Nikki woke up, startled, confused, her eyes becoming acquainted with the darkness of her surroundings. She realized she was at the beach house, in her bedroom, and that she had had a bad dream. The other girl in her dream was Linda, she decided, as she stared at her sister. Linda was still sleeping, wearing her usual T-shirt - she hated pajamas! - her long curls swept across her back. Linda's right leg was bent and naked, teasing the T-shirt upward, and the sheet away from her body. Seeing this, Nikki became again excited with desire. The craving for Linda's kisses returned, making her lips dry.
Nikki recalled how Big Sis now avoided the slightest physical contact between them if she happened to be close together. If confronted with what had happened on Saturday evening, Linda reiterated that it wasn't right, that it had all been a mistake, her mistake. Nikki had tried to reason with her, but Big Sis wouldn't stay and listen to her arguments.
The twins had ruined everything, especially Zoe. In spite of Zoe's big mouth, Linda had managed to prevent a major earthquake at home. As always, Big Sis got her own way, talking Zoe into silence - but for how long? The twins were still mad at them, although for different reasons. Jeannie was jealous of what Linda and she had, which was... nothing; and Zoe was jealous of what might happen between her twin sister and Linda, which was NOTHING, either.
Nikki shook her head, getting out of bed, discarding the feeling that their lives were turning into one of those TV soap operas she hated so much. Living the lives of others was not her idea of fun. She was a doer, not a dreamer... If she wanted something, she would do (almost) anything to get it. Linda had taught her to chase after her dreams and fight for her happiness. But what would Big Sis say about her daydreams right now?
Making as little noise as possible, Nikki washed herself and dressed, wearing her bikini under her beach shorts and her sleeveless, top-cropped T-shirt. She went downstairs, turning on the lights of a deserted kitchen. It was 7:45 AM., too early even for Dad if he didn't have to leave for work. It was Spring Break and Dad had taken a few days off his busy-busy schedule to stay with his wife and kids. He was to leave on Wednesday as he had an important meeting waiting for him in Houston, Texas. Mom would then take off for Palm Springs with a friend of hers and, as usual, would only be back a couple of days later.
'Just as well,' Nikki thought. 'At least we can do whatever we want.'
Spring Break ended next Sunday, Nikki realized as she walked out of the back door, breathing in the fresh air of a lovely morning. She stretched herself out in Dad's lawn chair, and at that moment she wished she had a pet, a dog or a bunny, something she could call her own. Mom wouldn't allow any living animal at home, though, because pets were messy and smelled.
Mom was commanding and stubborn as hell, and so was Linda. That's why Linda and Mom couldn't get along - they were too alike.
Nikki rubbed her tanned, slender legs, as a chill had run through her body. Although the morning was sunny and soothingly warm, she shivered now and then. Her hands rested on her thighs, while desire was oozing between her legs. She didn't care much for self-relief. It felt too selfish and lonely. There were, however, times when she couldn't resist it, bringing herself to a very satisfying orgasm. She hated to deal with the guilt afterwards, though. When she was just six, Mom had caught her masturbating against Mr. Tom, her favorite teddy bear. Mom pulled her up and smacked her bottom, screaming at her in front of Anita about what a "bad girl" she was. Mom took Mr. Tom away and Nikki hadn't seen him since. Many years later, Linda told her she shouldn't feel guilty about rubbing herself off. If she felt like it, she should do it, and to hell with what Mom thought.
"And do you do it?" Nikki had asked.
"Yes, of course... Most folks do but won't admit it."
Linda squeezed her hand, assuring her it was OK what she felt. Notwithstanding Linda's assurances, Nikki was unable to shake off her uneasiness about masturbation. Mom's screaming and her public humiliation came back to haunt her and to ruin all the pleasure she had just experienced. The funny thing was that she didn't feel any guilt whatever about making love with Linda... No, on the contrary. She felt liberated, safe, and out of harm's way. Linda gave her strength, because Big Sis loved her. That Saturday evening, Linda had told her so....
Her heart thumped harder. Nikki felt where her heart should be with her right hand and wondered whether she was falling in love with Linda. Linda... She was so beautiful, so strong... 'I love her,' she realized, feeling sudden warmth in her cheeks, surprised by the depth of her feelings. But Linda was her sister... How could she feel this way? How could she?
Nikki heard the back door opening and shutting. It was Dad, wearing his red turtleneck, which clashed visibly with his oversized khaki shorts. Puffing at his pipe, he greeted her and asked how she felt. Nikki went through the motions, engaging in a conversation she was rather uncomfortable with. She wondered whether he would ask about Zoe and Linda, and what Zoe wanted to tell him. Nikki noticed how carefully he trod with his questioning, maneuvering their conversation into that very subject. Fortunately, Linda barged into the back yard, just in time, as if Big Sis had seen it coming.
That morning's glorious weather gained sudden priority in Dad's speech, and it remained so until he walked back into the house, leaving the two girls by themselves. Hesitantly Nikki turned her face to Linda, who had stretched herself out on a lawn chair next to hers. Linda had her eyelids closed, enjoying the sunshine. She wore her usual dark yellow T-shirt and her very short, snug black shorts. Without even noticing, Nikki's eyes scanned her sister's breasts and her brawny, yet feminine long legs. That familiar wetness returned, the reactions of her sex putting her to the blush. As if Big Sis had noticed her stare, Linda opened her eyes and faced her.
"I almost don't recognize you."
"What?"
"Getting up so early is not exactly what you do on a regular basis."
"I couldn't sleep... Anyway I want to go to the beach early."
"Do you miss the guys that much?"
Nikki observed her sister more closely, trying to discern whether that remark was out of jealousy or was just plain old Linda cracking jokes.
"No," Nikki said, shaking her head and averting Linda's staring. That remark made her terribly sad, although she couldn't say why. "I don't want to go to the promenade... not today. I know this beach, a few miles from here... We could take your Jeep and go there, for a change."
"Sounds good to me," Linda replied, shutting her eyes and facing the morning sun again. "Let's hope the twins'll think the same."Nikki drew breath to say thanks but decided against it when she exhaled. She could feel Linda wanted some distance. Giving an answer would violate her sister's wistful mood.
After some discussion with the twins, they chose a spot near the sand dunes and away from the waveline. Since they were going to sunbathe topless, the dunes would offer protection from curious ogling, should people appear on the beach.
As she slipped off her T-shirt and shorts, Nikki's eyes moved away from Linda's body. The tension of excitement had announced its presence between her legs as soon as she saw Linda's naked breasts and her beautiful, slender body. Fortunately, Big Sis seemed unaware of her staring, busy as she was with the oiling of her own arms and ample chest.
Although topless sunbathing was a rare event for them, their tan lines were almost invisible. They all wore expensive bikinis which allowed most of the UV light through. They had bought them in an exclusive boutique in Beverly Hills, owned by a man who did his best to look like David Niven and sound as savvy as a college professor.
Linda handed the sunblock over to Nikki and asked her how she knew about this secluded beach. It was because of Jim Tatum, Nikki explained. She met Jim at Lana Martin's party. He was a college freshman at the time, nicely built, with strong shoulders and arms but hardly the typical UCLA jock. He had a way with words, which reminded her of Linda, and a gleaming two-wheeled import that would sweep any teenage girl off her feet with its powerful roar of an angry, thirsty engine. In the beginning, she declined his invitations to go for a ride. Jim Tatum scared her somehow. On the other hand, she was curious as to what it would feel like riding on a bike like that, feeling the wind in her hair, leaning against a guy a lot of girls would kill to be friends with. In the end, Lana whisked her doubts away, and she accepted Jim's idea of a thrilling date.
And thrilling it was… She had screamed and laughed when Jim accelerated and negotiated a tight turn at full speed. The ocean stretched away into a cloudless horizon at their right, and huge boulders of hard rock cropped out at their left, giving them no chance if Jim lost control of his roaring bike. After a long ride, he took her to this secluded beach, and soon enough he kissed her and made the first moves for them to make out. Nikki pushed him away firmly, looking at him sharply and making it clear she was not going to have sex with him. Besides, she was seeing Craig Worell and she didn't intend to cheat on her boyfriend. Jim got mad, standing up and throwing some curses at the wind, while his hand brushed back his light brown hair. Eventually, he brought her home, without saying another word or looking at her directly again. Fortunately, she hadn't seen him since.
Linda smiled at Nikki's story of failed seduction and looked at the breakers that kept rolling onto the sand. Again, Nikki had to tear her eyes off Linda's tanned body. Big Sis's breasts were like a magnet. She didn't mean to stare like a sex-starved boy, but every time she looked at Linda's body, the overwhelming emotions of their lovemaking washed over her like a gigantic wave. Those feelings wreaked havoc with her determination to respect her sister's decision to put an end to the sexual nature of their relationship. She swallowed and sighed, exerting herself to keep the tears from flowing.
If only she could find a way to make her sister understand it was OK for them to make love, she wondered. If they wanted to, why not? Because they were sisters? And if she were a guy, would Linda have less qualms about making love?
Nikki took her turn at applying the sunblock. The twins were just a few feet away from her, giggling and playing with their own bottle of sunblock, spreading the oily liquid on each other. They avoided the other's breasts as though it were understood that their small chests were forbidden territory. Seeing Zoe and Jeannie in such a playful mood, touching each other's bodies freely, it became clear to Nikki how much she wanted Linda. The twins didn't have to deal with the frustration she felt.
Done with the sunblock, Nikki let the bottle drop in Linda's jute bag and walked over to the waveline. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the moisture with her fingertips, and hugging herself. She looked at the ocean and the waves and the birds and the infrequent yachts that lazily cruised on the water.
The water felt cold on her feet. Nikki let the waves bury her feet under the sand, pretending not to hear the twins' playful giggling. They were wrestling, Nikki guessed without looking back. They would soon come and dive into the sea, and wash the sand off their bodies. After a few minutes of high-pitched giggling and screaming, Zoe's and Jeannie's voices came closer. As Nikki foresaw, her younger sisters ran into the water, disappearing under a wave and surfacing a couple of feet further away from the beach.
Jeannie waved her to join them, but Nikki turned her down. Nikki didn't feel like getting wet. She looked back, taking a fleeting glance at Linda. Linda lay flat on her beach towel, ignoring the twins' monkeyshines.
"The water's freezing," Zoe said, making her way back to the beach, trembling.
Without paying attention to Nikki, Zoe returned to the sand dunes to fetch her towel and dry herself off. Jeannie stayed in the water a little while longer. Then she swam to the beach, got to her feet, and walked over toward Nikki. All of a sudden, Jeannie kicked in the water, splashing her sister silly, causing Nikki to withdraw to a safer, drier spot on the sand. Her sense of relief didn't last long as a pair of strong hands took hold of her arms, pushing her toward Jeannie.
"Linda!" Nikki cried out with surprise in her eyes.
"Yes, that's me," Linda laughed. "I'm joining the fun, Sis."
Before Nikki could say a thing, another spatter of sea water was kicked at her by Jeannie, who was laughing as boisterously as Linda. Reacting as fast as she could, Nikki ducked and wriggled herself free from Linda's firm clasp, and dived into the water.
"Hey, that's not fair," Nikki complained, swimming away from her sisters. "I'm always alone against all of you."
"That's what lazybones get sooner or later," Jeannie cracked.
"I'm not lazy."
"You're not?" Jeannie said, savoring the irony with her lips.
Linda and Jeannie sat down on the sand, the water caressing their feet. They were still grinning at each other and then at Nikki. Nikki joined them, settling down beside Big Sis and keeping her eyes open, watchful for any sign of Linda or Jeannie wanting another bout of wrestling.
No words were exchanged. The three of them just listened to the sounds of the sea and the birds hovering overhead. Nikki wondered if Jeannie's horseplay was a kind of conciliatory gesture, an attempt to prevent further distrust and friction between them. Unlike Zoe, Jeannie was not a rancorous girl. Jeannie could fly into a rage but she was usually the one to raise the white flag first. Then Nikki's eyes fell on Big Sis, to examine her absent look with her green eyes lost in the distance. Nikki wanted to ask Big Sis what she was thinking about, but Jeannie's presence dissuaded her from such a dangerous line of questioning.
In spite of Nikki's silence, it seemed as though Linda had noticed Nikki's staring. Linda stood up and brushed the sand off her bikini bottom. "I'd better go," she said, "or Zoe might think we don't like to be around her any more."
"She could've joined us," Nikki retorted.
"Yes, Nikki, she could've. But Zoe's still pissed off and you know that."
Nikki shrugged as her big sister left. She didn't want to think about the reasons for Linda's bluntness and Zoe's reticence. The sexual ghost still hovered above their heads, just like a seagull searching for the right moment to dive and catch its prey. Nikki couldn't accept that sex had ruined everything between Big Sis and herself. That simply couldn't be true.
"Nikki?"
"Yes?" Nikki replied, brushing her hair away from her face and looking at her youngest sister.
"Don't be sad," Jeannie said, sliding closer and resting her hand on Nikki's. "Zoe and I, we talked last night… I guess… we overreacted. I mean, it's not every day that… You know what I mean."
Nikki took a good look at Jeannie, observing her face and appraising the sincerity of her sister's words.
"You mean you're not angry with Linda any more?"
"I figured, what's the use… I…" Jeannie looked away, her mouth half open. She just interrupted herself as if unable to put her feelings into words. Then she added, "I still don't know… what's going on. It's-"
"-so overwhelming," Nikki helped.
"Yes," Jeannie nodded, taking a deep breath. She smiled a little smile and went on, "Linda is… so…"
"…overwhelming," Nikki helped Jeannie once again.
They both laughed, looking at each other. Nikki put her other hand on Jeannie's hand, feeling deeply connected with her youngest sister. Nikki could see that Jeannie understood her because she felt the same about Linda. And that was amazing, so unreal and unbelievable… But who wouldn't fall in love with Linda? Who?
"And Zoe? I think she's still mad at us."
Jeannie licked her dry lips, removing her hand from Nikki's and encircling her legs. "You know how Zoe is. I'm working on her, though."
"You think she's gonna tell?"
Jeannie shrugged, rising to her feet. "I think we should go. I think Linda's calling us." Nikki stood up and followed Jeannie silently, her hands sweeping the sand away and adjusting her bikini bottom. She chose to forget that depressing subject altogether. It was a downer, definitely, and the last thing she wanted was to feel sad. She was young, damn it, and she wanted to have FUN!
* * *
Three crazy days went by.Linda was drinking too much too fast and to such an extent that Jeannie wondered whether they would get arrested for breach of public order and carrying fake IDs. On top of everything else, Linda was flirting with Mr. Cool totally uninhibitedly, as she never did before. What was she trying to prove? That she was not a lesbian?
On Friday night, Linda told Jeannie she was sick of the resort and was thinking about leaving the beach house and going back home. Linda missed Rick and wanted to be with him. The next morning, despite the sunny and pleasant weather, the girls returned to L.A. Jeannie felt some relief, as if Linda's decision was the first step for a healthier attitude toward life. However, Jeannie's optimism was soon put to the test. She sensed something was wrong with Big Sis. The slightest provocation was enough for Linda to lash out in a fury. Her remarks became blunter, and often downright cruel. Linda would apologize, but often too late to prevent retaliation from Nikki or Zoe.
All this tension had almost reached breaking point when Linda stayed out all night, returning home completely drunk. Dad grounded her for a fortnight and forbade her to see Rick ever again. As always, Rick took the blame for Linda's rebelliousness, Jeannie thought, sighing.
Zoe gloated over this state of affairs, Jeannie recalled, as if Linda's house arrest made them even. Jeannie thought her twin's reaction mean and insensitive, and as a result they didn't speak to each other for days. Zoe spent most of her free time with Joey Hernandez, a guy in her class she was seeing quite regularly. In turn, Jeannie would go out with Janey Manson (not related to Chad Manson) and Brittany McGuire, two girls she had met at the tryouts for the cheerleader squad. In spite of Brittany's failure to make the squad, the three of them became good friends. Fortunately, it didn't take long for Brittany to find out her new love - to draw funnies for the school's newsletter.
Zoe tried one day to bury the hatchet. Jeannie was getting ready for bed when she heard Zoe enter the bedroom they shared. Their bedroom in L.A. resembled their sleeping quarters at the beach house, except it was roomier and more sober-looking. Instead of the posters and pennants, there were "boring" oils that Mom had chosen for them. As at the beach house, their bedroom had its private bathroom with its door opening into a small hallway, which in turn connected their bedroom to the main hall upstairs. Because of this layout, Jeannie hadn't seen Zoe breeze into the bathroom; though she could hear someone brushing their teeth, and the water running in the washbowl.
When the noises stopped, Jeannie pulled up the covers and shut her eyes. She heard light footsteps approaching and heading for her sister's side of the room. Then she heard the rustling of someone getting undressed. At this point, there was a long pause. Jeannie waited for the familiar sound of Zoe slipping into her pajamas but no such thing happened - only silence. She waited a while longer until her curiosity got the better of her. Jeannie opened her eyes and turned to see her sister sitting on the edge of her bed, her head low, and her long tresses hiding most of her naked body. Zoe was scratching her knee when she looked up and met Jeannie's stare.
"What's up?"
Zoe shrugged, twisting her mouth slightly. She looked away for a moment and then faced her twin again, her teeth gnawing at her lips. There was a deep sigh and another pause. When Jeannie was about to speak, Zoe said, "You're right... about Linda... I had no right to say what I said."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yeah... I do. I just... want us to make up. I can't stand this any more. It seems that everybody went crazy in this house."
"That's true," Jeannie agreed, making it her turn to look away, sighing, her eyes staring blankly at the window. She scratched her head and her hand swept a thin strand of hair over her ear.
"You still think about... don't you?"
Jeannie blinked as if she hadn't understood what her sister meant. She was about to deny it when her head nodded. "I can't help it... I really can't help it." And as unexpectedly as a thief in the night, tears welled up in her eyes. She began to sob out loud, feeling a longing inside her she couldn't quite understand. Her heart ached and her body shook as if from cold.
Jeannie sniffled, her breathing slightly heavier than normal. As she wiped her eyes dry, Zoe settled down next to her.
"How'd you know?"
"I see how you look at Linda. You should be more careful... Other people might guess it, too."
Utter fear hit Jeannie in the face, gasping for breath. "What do you mean? I'm not that obvious... I mean... If you hadn't brought it up I wouldn't-"
"Next time just pay attention to how Nikki stares at Linda when no one is looking. You do the same, Jeannie... I think sometimes Nikki and you don't even notice it... but I do. It's seems as though everybody is in love with her in this goddam house."
"Stop blaming her, Zoe... Nothing happened against our will."
"But she should know better. She's older than you two. She should act her age. She's always tried to be in control, as if she was our mother. But she isn't, Jeannie. She isn't."
"I know that," Jeannie replied, letting her irritation show. "I'm sorry... I'm really tired and I wanna get some sleep."
"OK," Zoe said, retreating to her own bed. "Just think about it."
As night darkened their room, Jeannie's pupils widened, her eyes adapting to the weakening light outside. She couldn't sleep. Her sister's words were hammering away in her head. She kept asking herself whether Zoe could be right. Was her fascination for Linda that obvious? No, that couldn't be true. Mom and Dad would've noticed otherwise... Or maybe not. Mom and Dad appeared to live in another world, dealing with them on a different wavelength.
Jeannie began entering into a dream world that drew her away into strange landscapes bathed in moonlight and soft voices. A female hand touched her and she trembled. There were screams followed by a long pause. A baby cried and then laughed... After that, only silence...
NEXT: CHAPTER FIVE: Surrender | 4 |
6,102 | My Weekend in Portland | "That was fun," Denise said, grinning back, then she turned to Ruth. "You should have seen the expression on your face when you were cumming. That was so beautiful!"
"I got incredibly turned on, knowing it was you playing with me down there," Ruth said, blushing prettily. "You're sweet!"
"Once I got started, it was... not like I thought," Denise smiled. "I got jazzed up when you started to get hot. I just wanted you to cum."
"Now I want to do something for you," Ruth replied, leaning over to nuzzle Denise's ear.
"I'm willing," Denise smiled, and they both paused and looked at me.
"What am I, the quarterback of this team?" I laughed.
"No," Ruth said, "but you're the one with the dirty mind." She turned to Denise, "You wouldn't believe some of the things he's done to me in the last 24 hours." Denise looked at me thoughtfully.
"I DO have some ideas you two might find... interesting," I said.
"Mmm," Ruth hummed with anticipation. "His interesting ideas usually end with me cumming until I'm limp."
"Okay," Denise said, looking from Ruth to me. "What's next?"
I took their hands and helped them to their feet. Heading down the short hallway, I found Denise's bedroom, with a queen-sized bed, dresser, television and a couple of comfortable chairs.
"Denise, I think it's time you got undressed," I said, "and Ruth should do the honors."
Ruth grinned as she turned toward Denise.
Denise hesitated. "Can't we at least turn off the lights," she blushed, "I really don't have a very good body."
"Nope, lights on," I said. "Ruth has been naked with the lights on for the last hour. Besides, WE think you have a beautiful body."
"She's better than beautiful," Ruth said, staring longingly at the suddenly bashful Denise. "She's perfect! I'll bet she looks just as good naked as she does in all those wonderful clothes."
"Huh!" Denise said mournfully. "I have to wear clothes that keep people from noticing my stringy body."
"Oh, baby," Ruth soothed, pulling the smaller woman into her arms. "You are NOT stringy, you are BEAUTIFUL!" She put a finger under Denise's chin and tilted her face up, softly, "You are SO beautiful!" She leaned down and kissed Denise briefly on the lips, withdrew for a moment, then kissed her again... lingering much longer. Surprisingly, Denise did not resist or react in any visible way. She passively allowed herself to be kissed.
A few moments later Ruth's restraint failed. She lost control, moaning and forcing her open mouth harshly against Denise's lips. I knew her tongue was pressing its way into Denise's mouth, exploring, tasting. Denise's eyes were closed and she continued to allow Ruth's assault without protest. Their strained breathing was the only sound in the room. Ruth's hands began working eagerly at Denise's clothes, pulling up her top to reveal her small, firm breasts, pushing down her harem pants to expose tiny, bright green panties.
Then Ruth broke the kiss and dropped to her knees, pulling Denise's panties and loose pants to her ankles in one motion. Denise's sparse, black bush was visible for an instant before Ruth grabbed her buttocks with both hands and pressed her face urgently into the smaller woman's crotch. It was clear from Ruth's panting and the twisting of her head that she was trying desperately to get her mouth on Denise's pussy, but without much success.
I stepped forward, scooped up Denise and laid her on the bed. While I was helping take off her top, Ruth was pulling Denise's pants and panties over her feet. As soon as they fell to the floor, Ruth pushed Denise's slender, muscled legs apart and descended open-mouthed on her pussy. Denise's first sharp cry of pleasure came only seconds later.
Watching Ruth make love to Denise made my heart pound, but that was nothing compared with Denise's reactions. The smaller woman was soon thrusting her hips steadily upward while she gripped the bedspread with both hands, gasping and grimacing with pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut. Ruth was equally enticing, her swelling breasts almost flattened against the bed and her full buttocks raised and bobbing slightly as she changed positions. I took off my clothes, preparing to take Ruth from behind, but decided to watch for a while. | 3 |
6,108 | The Suit | "Hello? Is anybody here?" She took a step down the dark passage.
"Hello?" Her voice echoed down the passage. The hairs on the back of
her neck were standing up, and she was very nervous. She turned around, but
the heavy oak door behind her was still locked. She turned back to
the passage and tried to peer into the darkness. Her hands were
covering her naked body defensively, and she could feel her arms
shivering in the cold, damp air. What was going on here? Where was
she? She slowly started walking down the passageway, her naked feet
shuffling along over the damp stones.
For a long while, she shuffled along in the dark, her fear slowly
growing.
After what seemed like years, she finally spotted a faint light in the
distance. She quickened her pace and walked up to a single candle
burning on a lone table. She looked around and was amazed to see the
floor stretching away to infinity. During her walk in the dark, she
must've entered a large cavern or something.
"Hello?" she shouted, surprised at how small and desolate her voice
sounded. A cold shiver went down her back, and suddenly she wanted to
be anywhere but that cavern. She stood around for a few seconds,
confused and lost. The candle was nailed down onto the table, and
despite her best efforts, she couldn't dislodge it. Finally, she gave up
and looked around desperately. She took a few steps and turned around.
Which direction had she come from? She took another few steps, changed
her mind, and set off in a different direction.
Suddenly, she felt something light and sticky cling to her face and
hair, and she gave a small shriek of surprise. She reeled back in
disgust as her waving hands met a thick spider's web. She scratched and
pulled at the hundreds of sticky strands, which quickly covered her head and
hair. She turned around and fled back to the candle, dragging a net of
thin wires along with her.
Back at the candle, she tried desperately to rid herself of the web,
but for every one she managed to dislodge, a hundred others found a
place to stick. Realizing that she was fighting a losing battle, she
gave up and headed off in a new direction. This time, she managed to
walk quite a distance before she encountered another web.
As before, she scratched and clawed at the web, but it quickly
enveloped her in its fine strands. She backed off, but this time, she
could feel that the strands were anchored to something on the floor.
She fought the strands, but it was like fighting mist; she could break
a single strand quite easily, but the whole clung to her like glue. She
could feel the panic rising, and she pulled back, trying to get back to
the light. The strands stretched as she pulled on them, allowing her
to go without actually releasing her. It felt as if she was dragging a
weight behind her as she tried desperately to get back to the distant
candle. She stumbled into another web, and she was quickly covered in a
whole new set of strands. Again, she pulled, and again, she felt the
strands resist as she was anchored to a second point on the floor.
Every part of her was being covered with silk, and it felt as if she'd
fallen into a pot of syrup. She fought valiantly, but the combined
weight of the two strands was getting to her, and already, she could
feel herself growing tired.
Before long, she'd stumbled into a third and then a fourth web, each
one keeping her anchored to a different part of the floor. She was now
in a full-blown panic attack, crying and shrieking as her hands and
feet worked to free her from the sticky mess. The pull was too much to
resist, and she stumbled backwards into the darkness, right into yet
another web, then another and another. Pretty soon, she was standing in
the middle of a dozen webs, each one pulling her body in a different
direction.
She screamed in despair, but her mouth and face were being covered by
the strands, and the sound came out muffled. The more she fought, the
less movement she had, and in desperation, she felt her hands and arms
being pinned against her sides. She twisted and turned her body, but
all it did was to wrap the strands around her like a cocoon. After a
few minutes, she was almost completely immobile, and it was a battle
just to keep her balance. She stood quietly, her chest heaving as she
rested.
Suddenly, she heard a light, feminine giggle off to her left. She
twisted her head to see who it was, but could make out nothing in the
dark. Something gave a hard tug on the strands from the right, and she
gave another muffled scream as she almost fell over. Her whole body
was shivering with fear, but there was nothing she could do. Suddenly,
she heard a strange clicking sound approach her from behind, and she
froze, her eyes darting from side to side in fear. The clicking
stopped right behind her, and she held her breath, too afraid to move.
Suddenly, she felt something cold, hard, and pointy scratch against her
leg, and she almost fainted.
She started struggling anew, but only managed to get herself even more
tightly wrapped. She struggled for a few more seconds, but she was
already too tired to do much, and soon, she was quiet again. She heard
the clicking sound move behind her and held her breath as it circled
around her to the front. She almost fainted as a large black spider
appeared from her side and came to stand in front of her. The creature
was at least as tall as she was, with ugly black spikes covering its
whole body. It had a human face, and her eyes grew wide in terror as
she recognized her boss.
It stood quietly before her, its ugly black torso bouncing lightly up
and down as it balanced between its eight legs. It lifted one of its
legs, and a cold tremor ran down her body as it probed and prodded her
chest. The claw moved over her neck and chest and plucked at her
nipple before moving down to between her legs. It plucked at the
strands and quickly made a small triangular hole over her sex. She
closed her eyes in fear and disgust as the claw probed and scratched
between her legs. Suddenly, there was a loud, high-pitched screech, and
she opened her eyes just in time to see a second spider attack the first.
The second spider was quite a bit smaller, and she wasn't
completely surprised to see Mark's face on it. Although smaller, it
fought with a determined ferocity, and the two spiders rolled around in
a tangled mess of limbs and spikes. More spiders arrived, and she
recognized Andrew and Jake as they joined in the fight, each one
trying to decapitate the other with a deadly ferocity. Her colleague from
the office joined in, hell-bent on trying to decapitate her boss. A
large, hulking mass of spikes came lumbering past, and she immediately
recognized the bouncer from the club. A large, pitch-black spider
joined out of nowhere, and her heart froze as she recognized the dark
man from the club. It fought with quick, stealthy movements, moving
around like a flash.
She was so intent on the fight that she didn't notice the last spider until
it touched her. She jerked her head to the left as far as it would go
and gasped as she recognized Anette. Anette was ignoring the fight,
her attention focused on Sharon. She used one of her thin, sharp claws
to scratch and tease her left breast. Sharon mewed, and again, she tried
to get away, but it was useless; Anette could do as she pleased. While
her first claw continued to play with her breasts, a second found her
sex.
Sharon closed her eyes as she was once again about to be invaded, but
suddenly, the whole cavern started shaking from a low, deep rumbling.
All the spiders froze and looked around expectantly.A second, even louder rumble filled the cavern, and the spiders scattered, the fight completely forgotten. Sharon tried to turn around, but she was still tightly bound and could not move. For what seemed like ages, nothing happened, but then she felt faint tremors on the web.
Out of the blue, she was being dragged backwards, and she lost her balance. She squirmed and wriggled on the floor as her body was slowly pulled away from the light. She sensed a large, hulking mass somewhere behind her and again tried to scream as she was pulled towards it.
Ever so slowly, she was pulled into the dark, the anchors breaking as easily as if they were made from clay. She looked back to the distant candle and blinked hard as it swam in the tears in her eyes. For a few more minutes, she concentrated on the diminishing light as she was pulled over the floor. The darkness finally enveloped her like a cold, wet blanket, and she uttered a last, desperate scream.
Sharon stood in the queue, biting her lower lip. She looked up at the metal detector and almost chickened out again. "This isn't going to work!" She took another step as the queue moved ahead. She had an excuse ready in case she was discovered, but to her, it sounded feeble and unlikely. She looked back at the airport's entrance and watched a yellow cab drive off. Oh, how she longed to be in that cab! Instead, she turned around and looked back at the gate. She was dressed in a light cream business suit and matching skirt. Her neck was covered by one of her white librarian blouses, and she had a matching handbag thrown over her shoulder. The man in front of her placed his briefcase on the conveyor belt and stepped through the gate without incident. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped forwards.
The new instructions had arrived two days into her vacation. She'd been instructed to be at the airport at eight AM the following morning and to pick up her ticket from the check-in counter. With no idea where she was heading, she packed everything she could fit into her three suitcases. The night was spent in anxious anticipation as her mind raced through the possibilities. Where was she going? What did he want from her this time? Was she going to meet him at last?
The next morning, she'd woken up early and gotten ready. She had arrived at the airport a good hour and a half earlier than instructed, and her legs had felt wobbly as she'd approached the check-in counter. As the computer searched for her name, she couldn't help stepping around in nervous impatience. The clerk handed her the boarding pass, and she tried to act as nonchalant as possible while she scanned the document. New Orleans? It took her half a second to make the connection. New Orleans meant the Mardi Gras!
The metal detector screeched a loud warning, and she almost burst out crying. "Please step this way, ma'am," requested the security officer in a polite, clipped voice. She stepped to one side, her face blushing a furious red. He waved a hand-held scanner over her torso, and the thing went nuts.
"Ma'am, do you have any metallic objects in or under your clothes?" he asked.
"Yes, uhm, I wear a medical brace. I'm afraid that's what's making the noise," she replied, praying that he would believe her.
"Company policy requires us to do a body search in cases like this. Please come with me," he said, pointing the way down a passage. She retrieved her handbag and followed the officer.
He led her to a small room and held the door open for her. "Please wait here. A female officer will attend to you shortly. Feel free to make yourself comfortable," he said and closed the door behind her. The room was bare except for two plastic chairs and a table. On one wall, several coat hangers hung from a bare metal pipe.
She sat down and placed her hands on her knees, trying her level best to hold back the trembling that was racking her body.
After several minutes of anguished waiting, a female officer finally arrived. The woman was tall with strong, almost masculine shoulders. Her hair was wound in a tight black bun, and her hawkish nose gave her an aggressive, stern look.
"Good morning," she said as she entered and closed the door behind her. "My name's Liona."
"Hello," replied Sharon, not trusting her voice to say anything else.
"I was informed that you are wearing a medical brace. Is that correct?" Sharon just nodded.
"As you might appreciate, security is of great importance. Can I request that you remove the brace for an inspection?" she said as her sharp eyes inspected Sharon's body.
"I'm afraid I can't. It can only be removed by my doctor, you see," she replied, cursing her quivering voice. Liona nodded, obviously this was all routine to her.
"In that case, I have to request that you undress for a visual inspection. I realize that it is inconvenient, but I'm sure you understand that it is required."
Sharon just nodded and looked down at the floor. The moment the metal detector had gone off, she'd known it would come to this.
Sharon stood up and slowly took her jacket off. Liona took it from her and hung it on one of the coat hangers. Sharon could already feel herself blush as her shaky fingers worked on the blouse's buttons. As the blouse slowly opened, she could see Liona's whole demeanor change from calm and professional to surprised and shocked. Her hard, darting eyes grew large as she followed Sharon's hands, and it was clearly difficult for her to keep her composure. Sharon slipped the blouse from her shoulders and handed it to Liona. She crossed her arms defensively in front of her body and stood staring at the floor. It was several seconds before Liona could bring herself to speak.
"The skirt as well, please." Sharon imagined she heard something in the voice, something that made her even more uncomfortable than what she already was. She wanted to protest, but as she looked up at Liona's face, she realized that it was useless. The hard, professional look was firmly back in place.
She looked down again and reached behind her, her fingers finding the clip to the skirt. Her fingers were numb and trembling as she undid the clip and pulled the zip down. She let the skirt fall down to the floor and picked it up, handing it to Liona with downcast eyes. The shame flooded all over her body, and even her feet were blushing.
Liona walked around the table and stood beside her. Sharon's hands were locked in front of her stomach, trying to cover as much of her crotch as was possible. Liona slowly walked around her, inspecting every inch of her body while Sharon kept staring at the floor. For several seconds, she stood behind her, neither one of them saying a word. Suddenly, she felt two hands take a firm hold of her waist.
"What the hell..." she said in shock as she tried to twist around. Liona's hands held her firmly and wouldn't allow her to turn around.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" said Sharon as she tried to push the hands from her waist. Suddenly, Liona let go and stepped back, and Sharon flew around angrily. Liona was trying her best to look professional, but there was no mistaking the glimmer in her eyes. Suddenly, Sharon felt very vulnerable.
"Why did you do that? I thought it was only going to be a visual inspection," she tried to sound angry, but her voice squeaked in fear.
"I don't think that's a back brace. I think you're lying," Liona replied. "I've worked here for years, and I've never seen a brace like that before." She stepped back up to Sharon and stood uncomfortably close. "I have seen other things, though..." She pressed her palm against Sharon's chest and forced her back against the edge of the table. "strange, shiny, hard..." she forced Sharon to lean back over the table, bending over herself so that their faces almost touched. "kinky things. Sexual things. Erotic things."
Sharon was too surprised to put up much of a fight. How had things turned so strange so suddenly? How the hell had she gotten into this situation? What did the woman want from her?
Liona moved her hand slightly, and suddenly it was over Sharon's breast rather than on her chest.
"No! Get off! Leave me alone!" she protested, but the woman was surprisingly strong. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and both women jumped in surprise.
"Liona, are you still busy in there? We have a second search for you to do."
As quick as a flash, Liona stepped back and regained her composure.
"I'm just finishing up in here, Ben. I'll be done in a minute." They both listened as the steps retreated down the passageway. Liona turned around and faced Sharon. She was completely business-like and composed as she handed Sharon her skirt.
"Thank you, ma'am - you are free to leave. Thank you for your patience." Sharon's jaw worked in silent shock as her mind tried to come to grips with the rapidly changing circumstances. By the time she'd gotten her vocal cords working, Liona was long gone.
Sharon lay down on the big double bed. She thought back over the last couple of hours and sighed a deep breath of relief. No matter what her instructions were, she was NOT flying back home. It was either the bus or the train, to hell with the consequences. There was no way she was going to go through that ordeal again. Curling up on the bed, she was asleep in seconds.Do you Yahoo!?
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6,117 | The Withering Rod Of Eridu | "Unfortunately," I began as Tara and I stopped for a rest, "so many of the stories have obviously been quite exaggerated. I am no more a great lover than even you. But I suppose one of the women I loved when I was younger enjoyed her time with me so much that she told of our intimate relations, and thus the word was spread. As you probably know, the more a story is told by word of mouth from one person to another, the more distorted it becomes, and the further it strays from the truth if it is not written down. And even then it could be hearsay.
"However, if you wish to know the truth of the matter, then I shall tell you."
I must have been fifteen, nay! perhaps sixteen, at the time. I had been with Ramesh Magus perhaps one year. He taught me a few magical spells in exchange for cleaning up his work space and generally helping him whenever he needed more than his own two hands.
Oddly enough, working spells came quite easily to me, as if I were one born to adapt them to my life. Memorizing words and gestures and components---I found them all not only fascinating, but easy to learn.
At any rate, it happened that while I was straightening up some voluminous tomes on the mage's shelves, I came across a book entitled Love-Making Spells. My interest was immediately sparked since, up until that time, I had not yet been alone with a woman, my Bliss was still yet intact, and I had only heard stories of sexual pleasures from other lads my age who weren't as naive as I.
Curious, then, I removed the book from the shelf, opened to the contents page and quickly perused it. One chapter title in particular intrigued me and I turned to it. The spell wasn't difficult to learn and I had it memorized in a few moments.
But then I heard the mage returning, so I quickly re-shelved the book and continued with my cleaning.
Now, as was customary for the mage and I, we regularly visited his brother and sister, both of whom were about fifteen years older than I, if I remember correctly. Usually we took some gifts and foodstuffs which were then exchanged for various products of like kind.
On one particular day, the mage was unable to make the journey for some reason or other, so he asked me to go myself and make the exchange ritual. I put the gifts into my bag and set off for Prithu, the home of his siblings. For the mage, it was probably a good hour's walk; but with my youth, I made it in a much shorter time.
I arrived at the house, met the brother who took his gifts, then told me to go to his sister's room as she wasn't feeling well and had lain down until the sickness passed.
I climbed the stairs and entered her room. Lalita---I believe that was her name---was a beauteous creature with dark eyes and hair and light molasses-colored skin. She lay beneath a coverlet of fur, her head resting on a fairly large pillow that bore the decorative markings of the Madai craftsmen. I remarked on this, and she replied that she'd purchased it while visiting Kaveh, a city in that land.
I asked the nature of her illness. She replied simply that her body burned with Bliss that yearned to be released, but that there was no one here to help release it.
Now, understand that I was quite ignorant of Bliss at the time, having never experienced it; and although I was relatively familiar with love-making---from what I had read in the book, for I had more opportunities to read its contents---I innocently inquired if I might be able to assist her in getting well.
She patted the bed beside her and said, "Come here."
I sat down and, before I realized what had happened, her hand slipped beneath the waistline of my breeches and caught my flaccid member.
That first touch of a woman's hand upon me was at once both strange and yet exciting. Verily, I did swell to a good size! I had to stand then so she could pull down my breeches to allow me more freedom of movement.
'Twas then she drew aside her coverlet to expose her body, and I gazed upon a wondrous sight of two large breasts, a firm stomach and a small mound of hair between her legs which seemed to beckon to me with its dew-drenched tendrils.
Lalita had already begun to moan quite loudly, and I felt sure her noises would bring her brother to the room, but such was not the case.
She bade me lie down quickly, and I did so. After rubbing my firm staff several times to make sure I was good and hard, she threw one leg over me, straddled my hips and settled down upon my rod.
After some few minutes of up and down movement---which brought me no end of pleasure!---I saw a look of disappointment come over her face.
"What's wrong?" I asked, genuinely concerned.
Her lips twisted, her hips gyrated, then she said, "You're too small---I can barely feel you!"
Had I been more sexually enlightened, this remark probably would have caused me great distress and thus deflated what erection I did have.
But, instead, I remembered that first spell I'd memorized from the love-making book.
I closed my eyes, visualized my organ within her, then murmured the enchanted words.
A strange feeling swept over me, then I heard Lalita gasp, then yelp with surprise and joy as my cock suddenly swelled and throbbed of its own accord, pressing against the walls of her chasm, filling her completely.
Lalita cried aloud, and I daresay more with pleasure than pain, for she told me afterward that never had she felt so full by any other penis.
Thus she rode me, not once, not twice, nay! thrice she bucked her naked form upon my magical staff, loading her innards with my seeds again and again until both of us were wet and sticky...
"And that is the truth?" asked Tara, her mouth drooling at the vision of my huge stalk. "Oh, mage! Do it for me!" she pleaded. "The magic words---say them so that I might see for myself!"
Already she was on her knees in front of me as I sat on a fallen tree. Her hands scrambled to release me from my robe. As her nimble fingers caught me and pulled me forth, I lay back and chanted those esoteric words once again as I had done so many times before.
With a small cry of delight, Tara felt my cock increase in size until it was all she could do to fit her hands around its circumference. Then she kissed its mushroom-shaped head, ran her tongue across it, pumped that rod with all her might until at length I exploded into the air, covering her hair and face and hands with my sticky sap.
And for the next while, before we bathed in the nearby Ganga River, she took me twice within her bowels so that she, too, might feel the hugeness of my enchanted member and know the truth of those many rumours. | 5 |
6,157 | Flash | "A ship without sails is like a woman without breasts."
- Greek Proverb
I have always been a creature of habit, fixed in my ways, treading a well-plotted course to an expected conclusion. I waved the standards of causality and efficiency in my battle with chaos, putting each thing in its place, adopting the path of least resistance.
Then my doctor told me to start running. The young Indian in his starched white smock looked me in the eye and calmly threatened me with death.
"But," I said, starting to enumerate the reasons why my schedule would not permit me the luxury of a morning jaunt around the block.
"You will die," he scolded. "Do you have time for that?"
I conceded the point and stopped at the sporting goods store on my way home. I bought several smart-looking shirts, loose-fitting shorts, two pairs of sweats, and an expensive pair of running shoes.
"Can I get you anything else?" asked the young man behind the register, smiling indecently as he tallied the sum. I could tell instinctively that this fellow would only waste the commission he was about to earn on the sale. A fool and his money, as they say.
"Maybe I could hire someone to run for me," I said.
"When do you want me to start?" he said with a laugh, handing me the credit slip to sign.
I have always credited my success to the fact that I never allowed anyone else to run my business. I make my own decisions and I do things my way. I tied my new sneakers and started running slowly, methodically making my way around Glade's Park.
After the first leg, I decided it was time to take a short breather and collapsed on a wooden green bench. My heart pounded like a kettle drum as I fought the fire in my lungs for a desperate gasp of air. I wondered if running wouldn't just kill me faster than not running.
My pulse eventually slowed to the point where I could feel the cool spring breeze, and I sat up, resting my forearms on my thighs. Children laughed by a small pond where they maneuvered toy boats with long sticks. A starling twittered among the buds of a soft maple.
"Hey," a young woman said as she approached my resting place, "you have the time?" It took me a moment to realize she was speaking to me and another to look at my watch. She jogged in place while she waited for my response.
"Ten twelve," I said.
"Thanks," she said with a smile and dashed down the asphalt path. I watched the young fawn as she ran headlong toward a bright yellow wall of forsythias. Her lean legs moved almost effortlessly as she took her long stride, the muscles of her bare thigh stretching taut as she scarcely touched the ground and vaulted herself forward. An impetuous gust of wind followed, chasing her into the park. I felt a tingle of interest as I watched the shudders of her firm bottom underneath her tight blue satin shorts.
"Running isn't so bad," I mused and leaned back again. "A few more minutes."
Finally gathering myself together, determined to go on in my quest for life, I stood up. Six pigeons waddled and cooed as they pecked the gravel near an overflowing trash can. I took a deep breath. I looked right and then left and then smiled to watch as the young woman raced back around the corner, sprinting toward me. Tightly bound full breasts still bounced slightly, enticingly fluid with the stroke of each long stride. Her golden hair streamed behind her as she ran. Seeing me, she slowed and came to a near halt, still jogging in place.
"Time?" she said, panting smoothly. The woman smiled beautifully.
"Hmm?" I asked.
"How long?"
"Oh," I said, looking at my watch. "Ten eighteen."
"Six," she said. "All right. Thanks."
"No problem," I said.
"You going to run?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders, embarrassed. "Come on," she said, starting coyly down the narrow black path. "Run with me."
"I can't," I pleaded. "I just started. I'd hold you back."
"Nonsense," she said. "Sometimes I go fast and sometimes I go slow. The whole point is to keep moving. Come on. It's more fun to run with someone." I smiled and blushed and moved my feet. She matched my deliberate pace, stride for stride. She talked while I concentrated on breathing.
"Wendy," she replied when I managed to ask her name.
Despite my difficulty in running the mile circumference of Glade's Park, I am not particularly out of shape. I mean, I could afford to lose a few pounds, but I'm not what you would call overweight. My lungs are burned out from a few too many years inhaling smoke, and my heart has grown rather sedentary. Wendy encouraged me through that first long mile and then took me to her apartment for a cool drink. I fell onto her sofa with a groan as she poured two tall glasses of mineral water. On the rocks.
I've had my share of relationships through my years, but for better or worse, I could never quite get a woman to fit into my life. I know I work too much, and I know that I'm a bit particular about exactly what happens and when. I can face the fact that I'm not the easiest person to get along with, but I've always believed that someday a good woman would happen along and she'd fit like the final piece in my jigsaw puzzle.
I didn't know that woman would be Wendy as I sat in her apartment gulping down ice water, but we hit it off at once, and so while things moved quickly, it all came naturally. We had only been talking for about twenty minutes when she pulled her t-shirt over her head, exposing the sturdy white athletic bra stretched taut across her chest. My eyes probably popped out of my head as I stared at her large squashed breasts, but Wendy hardly seemed to notice. I don't think she was trying to arouse me. We were just that comfortable together.
"I hope you don't mind," she said, reaching back to unclasp her brassiere. "I can't stand being tied down anymore."
"No," I fought to say. "Feel free." Wendy smiled as her breasts escaped their bonds.
"I will," she said. "I do."
I did my best to maintain my part in the conversation with the topless girl, even as she kneaded the shallow welts her foundation garment had dug into the fair flesh of her bosoms. I couldn't begin to repeat the conversation, although I could probably do a fair job of drawing the exact curve of her dark nipples, even though I tried my best to avoid looking at them. Wendy treated me as though I was one of her oldest and dearest friends.
"Excuse me," she said, reaching to the table just past me for an ashtray. "Smoke?" she said. I fought for an answer. "Live fast, die young, leave a good looking corpse," Wendy recited, pushing a cigarette between her lips and lighting it.
"Yes," I said. Wendy handed me the pack. I leaned forward and licked her rigid nipple. "Yes."
"Oh my," she said with a faint laugh. "I wondered how long you were going to keep me waiting."
We kissed and fondled, groped and stripped. I fell in love at once with Wendy's soft firm body. I rolled on top of her, but with a shove, she rolled me over onto my back.
I'm usually, I don't know, fairly dominant when it comes to sex. I guess I always like to be in control of the situation. After the run through the park, however, I had only scraps of strength remaining to assert myself, and I surrendered readily, if reluctantly, to Wendy's domination. She took hold of my stiff prick and after a brief brush of the crown over her damp lips, Wendy drove my shaft into her cunt, burying me in a flash down to the hilt. The sensation rushed exquisitely through my senses, and I trembled with excitement. Wendy bit her lip with a wry smile, tossed her gold mane wild and lifted her hips to start the ride. Wendy's silky wet pussy slid up my shaft, then down, up and then down, faster and faster in a mad gallop, but then suddenly slowed to a sweet canter.
Wendy's tits, almost a shade too big as they hung before my hungry eyes, round creamy melons teasing my desire, shook in crazed circles, bouncing and flying, jiggles and flops. I felt the heat rise within my loins and catching a thick nipple in my mouth, I let a spurting tribute coat her hot cunt. Wendy laughed as I came, squeezing my prick with her tight pussy muscles. I shuddered and groaned.
"You're incredible," I said sincerely as the last shivers melted. Wendy continued to ride, flipping her hips in a steady pace, caressing my satiated stick with her soft nether lips.
I'm not old, but I'm not eighteen either, and I believed without shame that a short rest was in order. Wendy shook her head as if reading my mind."I can't," I murmured. She lifted a tit to her lips and sucked a hard nipple, her ass bobbing as she drove my weary dick on.
"Come on, big boy," she moaned sweetly, "you can't stop now." I took a deep breath and Wendy picked up the pace, bouncing her titties so they brushed my dry lips. "One more mile and you can choose your reward." I began to stiffen as I let my mind roam over a feast of imagined desserts. Wendy purred with delight and rode my cock home.
"Can we run tomorrow? Can we meet for lunch? When can I see you?" I asked, anxious to pencil in our next rendezvous.
"Keep running," she said. "I'll be around." A wave of panic must have crossed my face. "Call me," she said, giving me her number.
"Tonight?" I asked.
"Whenever," she answered.
We met in the park, from time to time. I couldn't find a pattern to her days, no schedule which I could anticipated or follow. Some days she was there, some days she wasn't, sometimes earlier, sometimes later. Wendy didn't seem to really care if she ran into me, but she always seemed to enjoy herself when we were together. I called her apartment more often than I should have, but she never answered the phone anyway. One Thursday afternoon, much to my surprise, Wendy picked up the phone.
"Can you take off tomorrow?" Wendy asked. If anyone else had said such a thing, I would have laughed while rejecting the suggestion. My mind raced through the brim-packed day of meetings, conferences and inspections I had already planned.
"Yeah," I said, shocked at myself as the words passed my lips.
"Meet me in the park," she said and hung up the phone.
"What time?" I screamed into the buzzing phone. I dialed her number. No one answered.
I waited in the park for three hours until Wendy showed up. I had been afraid to move, afraid I would miss my chance to see her. She strolled up to the park bench, smiling almost as if she was surprised to see me.
"Come on," she said. "I need to go shopping first." I tripped along beside her, faithful lapdog I had become.
Wendy wore a short beige skirt and blue silk shirt. My mouth watered as I stole glances at the pretty blonde girl beside me. I strutted proudly when we walked past Bob Jenkins on the street, a shark I had been negotiating with the day before. I could feel the flash of bitter envy and I loved every minute. Wendy looked better than a deal closed under market.
"White sandals," she explained as we walked into the department store. "I realized that what I really need is a good pair of white sandals." I nodded, my thoughts escaping for a moment as I wondered if Davis could handle the meeting with Fujitsu. "These look good," she said, picking up a pair. A young salesgirl rushed to greet us.
"Sevens?" Wendy asked, handing the dark-haired woman the leather shoe.
"Sure," said the salesgirl. Wendy took a quick stroll around the display.
"Sandals are tricky, because they have to bite right if you're going to walk in them. Shoes are much easier." I nodded, hoping Millie remembered to call Franklins with our orders.
"Here you go," said the salesgirl. Wendy took a seat and the salesgirl pulled up a short bench to sit near Wendy's feet. The girl unfastened Wendy's shoe and took a sandal from the box. She slipped Wendy's toes under the white straps.
"Oh," said the salesgirl, and I looked at her curiously. Her eyes wide open, she flushed as she fumbled with the sandal. Her cheeks deepened to a dark red as the blush toyed with a frown and then a flicker of a smile as the girl looked away and then up at me and finally back to Wendy as she managed to secure the buckle.
Wendy walked over to the slanted mirror and vogued her bound foot in a variety of poses. She shook her head. "No, not quite right." She sat down and let the salesgirl remove the shoe. They exchanged flirtatious smiles, and we walked back into the sunshine.
"What was that?" I asked.
"I'm not wearing panties," said Wendy. "I'm such a tease."
"Wow," I said. "But..."
"Excitement keeps my blood flowing," Wendy explained. "When I do something like that, I make the world a sexier place. I've given her an idea, showed her what can be done, dared her even, and there's a good chance that she'll pass the sexiness along. Doesn't that make you feel good, knowing that pretty thing will soon forget her panties, too?" I considered the notion and raised my eyebrows for a smile.
"Anyway," Wendy said, "let's get some food."
"But what if she'd made a scene?" I began, still shocked at her casual manner. My mind raced with all the trouble her little oversight could cause.
"I'm only going to be in town a few more days," Wendy said. "And flashing isn't the kind of scandal that travels."
My heart sank as the words passed her lips. Self-contained as I prided myself on being, I had begun to hope. Wendy had seemed like the perfect woman for me, flighty and chaotic, but still undeniably perfect. Moreover, after six weeks of being involved, she had never once complained about my work, which was usually the gripe that chased my girlfriends away. Having found her, I just couldn't let her go.
"Why are you leaving?" I asked.
"I scout talent," she replied, munching her salad. "I never stay anywhere long. I have to go where the players are."
"But, does this scouting pay well?"
"Not quite," she said, laughing. "Enough to clothe and feed."
"Then why do it?"
"Why do anything? I like to keep moving. I want to see the world, meet people, experience life."
"Oh," I said, playing a fork through my congealed gravy. "I hope I've been a good experience."
"Come on," she said. "We've enjoyed our time together. Let's enjoy the rest."
"I could give you a job," I said. "We could always use someone with your energy."
"I love you," she said with a laugh, "but I'd go crazy in a gilded cage."
"I'll go crazy without you," I said, sadly.
"Come on," said Wendy, taking my hand. "Let's go dancing."
We found a crowded club and fought our way through a thick throng, a heavy haze of grey smoke, the thick scent of spilled ale. The music throbbed with a steady pulsing beat. Wendy began to wiggle her hips as we worked our way to the center of the dance floor. I looked confused, I'm sure, unused to shaking myself loose in a crowd. Wendy looked into my eyes and lifted her skirt slowly up her thighs. I shook and jumped, turned and bounced. Wendy danced so provocatively I thought they'd throw us out, but they didn't. Worn and excited, we finally left.
I took her back to her place and devoured her, prodded her, squeezed and drank her. Wendy gave herself to me in every way I could dream to want, and as the first ray of dawn kissed the windowpane, I fell into a fitful slumber, a tear tracing down my cheek.
When I awoke, Wendy was gone. I waited for an hour, but then dressed and went to the park and sat down on the bench. The birds sang and the children played, and I sighed. Wendy raced around the corner.
"Time?" she asked, laughing.
"Not too late," I said. "So, where are we going?"
"How about Dayton?" she asked. I grimaced. "They've got a young sculptor there some of the better galleries have been vying for."
That afternoon, we got on the plane, and with that single step, I left my whole world behind. I made some calls, and Davis has done a fine job running the business.
"Any instructions?" he asked when I talked to him last, a little nervous about some proposed acquisitions.
"Just keep moving," I told Davis as I tickled Wendy's bare foot. "Life's too short to sit still." | 4 |
6,235 | Redemption | "Justice is justice though it's always delayed and finally done only by mistake." -George Bernard Shaw
"Redemption" (c) 1998
by Dafney Dewitt
"In the Criminal Justice System, the people are represented by two separate but equal groups, the police who investigate crime and the District Attorneys who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories."
328 E. 47th Street New York City
The Fantasy Club
Saturday July 2nd
The owner of the Fantasy Club, Luther Stone, stared in fascination at the stage where a silicone-enhanced blonde pumped her hips toward the audience in perfect timing with the rhythmic thump of the music.
But Luther was not watching the naked dancer. His eyes focused on a fresh-faced young man sitting in the front row. The kid's face was filled with unabashed awe, worshiping the smooth pale body of the dancing girl. His open mouth formed a small 'O' like a surprised fish. Seeing such awe-struck fascination was rare. For most patrons of stripper bars, the fantasy was gone. Their sense of wonder eroded by time. With time, the kid would change too. His face would lose its innocence.
The kid's face.
Luther Stone knew that look. It was a look that reminded him of himself, as a young kid, the first time he had been in a stripper bar. Back then, there was no total nudity. Women stripped to pasties and G-Strings. But they captured Stone's attention. He was entranced by their beautiful bodies, wanting to devour them with his eyes. That was a long time ago.
Prison had changed him. Now he was hard. Now when he looked at strippers, all he saw were whores, or drug addicts. For Stone, there was no more mystery in sex. No matter how beautiful, every woman had a price.
In the dark shadows, at the edge of the stage, the kid's hand pumped up and down. It was a familiar motion, but it was all wrong. His hand was way too high. There was no way the kid could be stroking his cock. He would have had to have been hung like King-Kong. Intrigued, Stone gave a nod to his bouncer, Guido. He pointed to the kid, and Guido brought him to Stone.
"Am I in trouble?"
"No," said Stone. "What's your name?"
"I'm Tommy Kincaid."
Tommy stuck his hand out expecting Luther Stone to shake it. Stone shook his head slowly from side to side and ignored the extended hand. From the silly grin on Tommy's face, it was obvious that he was mentally challenged. It explained the look of wonder on Tommy's face. It was the dumb look. Stone regretted calling this retarded man over to his table. But it did not explain what Tommy Kincaid had been doing with his hand while he watched the strippers.
"What were you doing with your hand?" asked Stone.
"Stroking my lucky foot." The young man held up a large rabbit's foot attached to a key chain.
Luther Stone smiled. Tommy Kincaid gave Stone a goofy smile in return. Stone knew that this interchange was being watched. The other employees of the Fantasy Club would talk. Stone would end up looking like a loser because of a moment of weakness, thinking about his own lost innocence. His employees would talk behind his back about the ex-convict, drug dealer, and pimp who invited retards to his table. Stone looked for an easy way to keep his reputation intact.
"Does your rabbit's foot bring you luck?"
"Only if I stroke it."
"Did you know that luck works best if you let someone else do the stroking?"
Stone formed an image in his mind of a whore giving a hand job.
"No," said Tommy, leaving his mouth open again like a fish blowing bubbles.
"If you let me stroke your rabbit's foot, you might get lucky. One of the strippers might give you a private lap dance. Would you like that?"
"Oh, that would be good."
Then Tommy frowned.
"What's wrong?" asked Stone.
"I can't lose my keys. See?" Tommy held up a small plastic address tag attached to the key chain. "If I lose my keys, you get paid $15.00 for mailing them to this P.O. Box."
"You won't lose your keys," Stone reassured him.
"Are you sure?"
"I'll keep them safe. You can watch me."
"Will you help me get a girl? Girls don't like me much after they learn I'm slow."
"I'm sure it will work. Give me the keys."
Stone reached across the table.
Trusting Stone, Tommy handed him the keys.
"Now go sit over there at the corner table while I rub your rabbit's foot."
As Tommy turned his back to walk to the corner table, Stone detached the keys from the rabbit's foot and handed them to his bouncer, Guido.
"Tell Sherry to give the kid a free lap dance, and get me duplicate keys. You gotta be back in 10 minutes," Stone told him. For the cost of a duplicate key, Stone had salvaged his reputation.
Stone saluted Tommy, at the corner table, holding the white rabbit's foot high in the air and pretending to have the keys in the palm of his hand. With exaggerated gestures, Stone stroked the rabbit's foot. A few minutes later, Sherry approached Tommy's table and began her tired routine.
The lap dance ended before Guido returned. Tommy came back to Luther Stone's table.
"Can I have my keys back now?"
Stone smoothly evaded his question.
"It worked just like I told you, right?"
Tommy nodded his head, breaking into a big smile.
"Do you live in a post office box?"
"No, I don't live in no box. That's just if the keys get lost."
"Where do you live?"
"I live at 723 E. Park Avenue in Apartment #327."
Tommy recited the numbers carefully, proud to have memorized his own address.
"Can I have my foot back now?"
"In just a minute. I'm going to give it an extra rub so you get another girl the next time you come back to the Fantasy Club."
Stone moved his hand with the rabbit's foot under the table, pretending to rub it, until he saw Guido walking toward him from the back entrance of the Club. Guido shook hands with Stone who palmed the key chain and deftly re-attached it to the rabbit's foot.
723 East Park Avenue
Apartment 327
New York City, N.Y.
Tuesday July 5th
Luther Stone rang the doorbell first. He waited. He knocked three times before inserting the key and opening the door to apartment #327. Stone had no intention of burglary. It was pure curiosity. The address on Park Avenue surprised him. Why was a mentally challenged smuck like Tommy Kincaid living in a high-class apartment building?
The luxuriously decorated apartment only furthered the mystery. Stone made a quick tour of the 2-bedroom suite to reassure himself that he was alone. The lipstick and tampons in the bathroom took Stone by surprise. Was Tommy Kincaid married? He returned to a small table by the front door with a basket full of mail. Selecting a business envelope, Luther Stone read the name of the addressee. He quickly thumbed through the rest of the letters. All of them were addressed to Claire Kincaid, Assistant District Attorney for the State of New York. This was the same Claire Kincaid who had sent Stone to Attica on a three-year drug conviction. Tommy was not married. He was Claire Kincaid's retarded brother.
Stone said a short prayer. The Gods were with him.Stroking the rabbit's foot had brought him more luck than he could have imagined. His mind raced with possibilities for revenge. He could stalk Claire, torment her, he could bug her apartment, and rape her in her own bed. But he quickly rejected all these fantasies. He wanted more. He wanted Claire to come to him, begging on her knees. He wanted to humiliate and degrade her. He devised a plan.
Luther Stone returned to the bathroom. He did the same thing detectives Brisco and Logan had done to convict him. He went around collecting evidence. He took hair from Claire's hairbrush, looked in the waste basket and fished out a used tampon, and brushed fibers off Claire's skirts that were hanging in the closet. He wiped off both sides of the door handle with a paper towel before leaving.
Hargrove Lofts #425
3007 W. Brooklyn Avenue
Friday July 8th
Tommy Kincaid rubbed his rabbit foot again and hit the naked woman laying across the bed.
"Wake up!" he yelled.
But the woman did not move.
"Wake up!" Tommy yelled again.
But the woman was dead.
Minutes before, Tommy had handed her a balloon of heroin in exchange for sex. His good friend, Luther Stone had set him up with a drug-addicted stripper named Cyndee Lee, and a big man named Guido had given him the heroin. The sex was good. The heroin was good too. Over 80% pure heroin. It was a hot shot. Both the sex and death had been recorded from a hidden camcorder. In a panic, Tommy Kincaid fled the dead woman's apartment. He ran straight to his good friend Luther Stone for help.
Police discovered the body after receiving an anonymous phone tip. When Detectives Brisco and Logan arrived at the Hargrove Lofts #425, uniformed police officers were already posted at the front door and the Medical Examiner was examining the body. Logan searched the apartment while Brisco talked to the doctor.
"What's it look like?" Detective Brisco asked the Medical Examiner.
"A dead lady," the examiner answered without looking up.
"Yeah, or a slow whore, but do we have a murder?"
"What we have is a drug overdose, and a recent sex act."
The Medical Examiner inserted his plastic-gloved fingers into the vagina of the deceased woman and wiggled them sideways to make his point. The movement of his fingers made an obscene sound of sloshing liquids. He gave Detective Brisco a lewd wink, "What's it sound like to you?"
"Sounds like a fresh fucking," said Brisco, agreeing with the M.E.
Logan returned from the bathroom carrying a bloody tampon in a plastic evidence bag.
"She on the rag, Doc?" he asked.
"No," the M.E. answered.
"Well, then it looks like we have another woman."
"And a man," added Brisco.
"Is it rape?" asked Logan, picking a hypodermic syringe up off the floor and dropping it into an evidence bag.
"After Logan's run with divorce, he has trouble imagining women fucking for fun," Brisco told the M.E. in an apologetic voice.
"More like sex for drugs," answered the medical examiner.
"If you'd known my ex-wife, you'd think rape, too," shot back Logan.
"If we find the drug pusher, we might be able to arrest him for Murder II," Brisco suggested.
"The police forensics lab will sort it out," Logan predicted.
"I'm done here. You can bag her," said the medical examiner.
New York District Attorney
Adam Schiff's Office
Thursday July 14th
Claire Kincaid listened politely, holding a large envelope in her lap, as Jack McCoy detailed the murder case on Cynthia Lee Crawford for Adam Schiff, the Chief District Attorney for the City of New York.
"Under Barrera vs State of New York, we have precedent for charging the deliverer of illegal drugs with Murder II if that delivery results in death."
Seated behind his desk, Adam Schiff nodded his mostly bald head. In an annoyed grumble, Adam protested, "Yes, but can we prove the intent of the person supplying the drugs."
Rising out of his chair, Jack McCoy pointed his index finger at Adam Schiff, raising his voice with emotion.
"The prosecution does not have to prove intent, only delivery. The burden of proof is reversed. Supplying illegal drugs which results in the demise of the recipient is 'a priori' accepted proof, tantamount to depraved indifference. Intent is implied in delivery. The courts have made this point clear."
"OK," Adam nodded his bald head, "Who is the bad guy?"
"We don't know yet," conceded Jack McCoy.
Adam rubbed the sides of his head as if he were developing a headache. "Why are you wasting my time?" growled Adam in exasperation.
"But we may know soon," Jack added quickly. "Claire has an anonymous informant."
Claire Kincaid rose from her chair and handed Adam a 6 x 10 envelope with the photograph of the deceased woman, Cynthia Crawford, sprawled nude across the bed.
"This photo," said Claire, "was not taken by the police."
"So we have an anonymous necrophiliac?" Adam snapped back sarcastically.
"It's more than that," said Claire. "Look in the far left-hand corner." She tapped the photo with her index finger. "That's a man's leg. That's the perp."
Adam sounded tired, but nodded his assent. "OK, run with it. But you can't indict a leg. If you identify the man, we'll trot a murder charge out before the Grand Jury."
New York District Attorney
Claire Kincaid's Office
Friday July 15th
The phone rang while Claire Kincaid was reading through depositions on a rape case. The person on the other end started talking before Claire could announce herself as an Assistant District Attorney.
"You've been bad, Claire," said a man's voice she did not recognize.
"Excuse me, do I know you?" Claire answered, suspecting an obscene call.
"You know my work."
"What work?" asked Claire impatiently, checking the Caller ID display. The call was blocked. It did not show the caller's telephone number.
"Pictures of dead women."
Suddenly alert, Claire sat up straight in her chair.
"Do you know who gave Ms. Crawford the heroin?"
"Yes."
"Do you know that by withholding this information, you could be charged with obstruction of justice or even an accessory to murder after the fact?"
"I'm not trying to withhold anything."
"OK, who did it?"
"Your brother, Tommy Kincaid."
Claire's heart froze. Did Tommy do it? Could she prosecute her own brother? She quickly dismissed that thought. She would never prosecute her own brother. She knew Tommy. He was retarded, but he was no killer. There was no proof. The caller was just trying to upset her, and he had succeeded.
"You're wrong," said Claire, sure of herself.
"Check your mail for a videotape, Claire."
The caller hung up.
Claire sorted through her mail. She found a Federal Express package with a videotape. In the privacy of her office, Claire watched her brother, Tommy, hand heroin to Cynthia Crawford. She watched Cynthia inject herself and collapse. The entire murder scene had been taped. A few minutes after the tape ended, Claire's office phone rang. It was the man's voice again.
"Did you watch it?"
"What do you want?" asked Claire.
"I want you." The voice sounded threatening.
"Blackmail is not going to work," Claire stated with a false certainty.
"Why not?"
"My brother, Tommy, has diminished mental capacity. No court would ever convict him of murder."
"I knew you'd defend him."
"He's my brother. What did you expect?"
"You're a prosecutor, Claire. I expected prosecution."
"Sorry to disappoint."
This time, Claire hung up.
Claire locked the incriminating videotape in her desk. She congratulated herself for not succumbing to a blackmailer. She had no intention of ever showing this videotape of the murder to anyone. The crime would just have to go unsolved.
Later that afternoon, the anonymous blackmailer called back.
"Did you share the videotape with your friend, Jack McCoy?"
The man's voice was calm and self-assured, speaking with a familiarity that repelled Claire.
"No," answered Claire curtly to discourage the caller.
"That's good. Because you were right."
"What do you mean?"
"Tommy does have diminished capacity. He's not the real killer."
"He isn't?" asked Claire, not knowing where this conversation was going.
"No, Tommy just did what you told him."
"What do you mean?" Claire said in shock.
"You're the killer."
A cold chill fell across Claire. The caller was crazy. There was no way she was the killer. She had never been in Cynthia Crawford's apartment. The accusation was insane.
"You're nuts!" Claire stated boldly, taking the offensive.
"I can prove it," responded the self-assured voice.
"How?" Claire's voice wavered.
"Send a sample of your hair and blood to the police forensics lab. Ask them to test it against the evidence collected at the murder scene."
The caller hung up.
Police Forensics Lab
New York Police Department
Tuesday July 19th
Doctor R. Timmons, at the police forensics lab, called Claire Kincaid's Office with the good news.
"Remember those hair and blood samples you gave me for testing on the Crawford Case?"
"Yes," said Claire.
"We have a match."
"How good a match," asked Claire cautiously.
"As good as it gets without DNA testing. We have a 98% certainty the two samples are identical. The person those samples came from was at the murder scene. I can testify to that in court. Looks like you caught your perp, Claire."
"Ah, that's great, Timmons," said Claire without enthusiasm, and placed the phone back in its cradle.Claire's stomach lurched. She felt ill. Doctor Timmons had just offered to testify in court against her. It was Claire's own blood and hair in that sample. How did she get into this mess? Claire buried her head in her hands and broke down in heavy sobs that quickly turned into a torrent of tears.
328 E. 47th Street New York City
The Fantasy Club
Wednesday July 20th
Claire agreed to meet her anonymous tormentor at the Fantasy Club. It was 10:00 pm. She had been sitting in the bar for the past 15 minutes trying to guess the identity of her blackmailer. Several men had hit on her. She brushed them off with a maddening hesitation. Uncertain which man she was meeting, Claire gave every man a shot at her. She was not drinking, not laughing, and definitely not having fun. She looked lost. Claire was a long way from the comfortable, familiar surroundings of a courtroom. She tugged her skirt sharply to keep it from riding up over her knees. Waiting for the blackmailer to reveal himself made Claire feel dirty like a whore sitting on a barstool.
Luther Stone enjoyed watching Claire's distress. He delayed approaching her. He wanted to see how well she handled herself. She was obviously extremely ill at ease, but managed to maintain her outward composure. Her pageboy haircut gave her face a special innocence. Her brown hair caught the glow from the bar lights, and her gold hoop earrings sparkled. Her face was flushed. Her mouth was open. Just like her brother thought Stone. Dressed in a grey skirt with a cream-colored blouse, she looked dignified. The single string of white pearls hanging around her neck gave her a touch of sophistication that set her apart from all the other women in the bar. She looked dignified. He intended to strip her of that dignity.
Claire had not spotted him. She had walked right by his booth, and he had inhaled her perfume. He liked her scent. She smelled good. He closed his eyes imagining how he would take her. Under the table, Stone pushed down on his rising hard-on, groaning.
Claire continued to search the bar, her face tense. Stone calmly sipped his drink. He enjoyed watching her shame at repeatedly rebuffing the attentions of horny men. He liked seeing the way her breasts moved underneath her blouse. The slight jiggle of Claire's breasts against her pearl necklace was far more erotic than any stripper.
Claire's heart pounded so hard she could feel it through her blouse. Where was he? She glanced at her watch. Fifteen after ten. Maybe it was all a cruel hoax! Tears burned her eyes, and she bit her lip to keep from breaking down, forcing herself to be strong. "Be strong," she urged herself. "You have to be strong. Do not let him get the best of you."
She was moving toward the bartender to ask if anyone had left a message for her when someone uttered her name. "Claire."
She whipped her head around, peering through the darkness. It was someone sitting at a booth table in the shadows. She moved off the bar stool and toward the table. She could make out the outline of a man. As she got closer, her eyes lit up with recognition.
She looked at Stone, confused.
"Hi, Luther Stone."
"Hello, Claire."
Politely, Stone stood up and let Claire slide into the booth toward the far wall, then he sat down blocking her only exit. To her dismay, Stone laid his hand on top of hers and held it lightly as if they were lovers.
"Didn't think you'd meet me here, did ya?"
"I thought you were still in Attica serving a five-year drug sentence."
Claire glanced around the bar afraid to try to withdraw her hand from his. She avoided looking Stone directly in the eyes. She needed time to catch her breath and calm her breathing before speaking. She needed to sound firm and in control. When she finally looked at Stone, he was gazing at her breasts. She glanced away, embarrassed.
"I got out for good behavior," said Stone, giving her a lewd wink.
Claire was not certain what to say. She looked down at her lap, wondering if Stone was the blackmailer. She kept telling herself to withdraw her hand, but her nerve failed her.
"Look at me, Claire. I've waited a long time for this."
Claire looked up. "What? What have you waited for?"
"To claim you. You're mine," said Stone possessively.
Anger flared on Claire's usually passive face. She was no man's toy. She was no man's possession. She yanked her hand out from under his. "How dare he!"
"They should have locked you up for life!" Claire said bitterly.
Claire waited. She expected Stone to strike back, but he remained calm. He seemed amused by Claire's outburst. Stone slowly raised his drink and took a sip, setting the glass back on the table before speaking. When he spoke, between almost closed lips, it sounded to Claire like the hiss of a snake.
"Don't make me angry, bitch. I own you."
The tip of his tongue flicked between his lips.
Stone smiled.
Claire glared back.
All doubt was gone.
He was the blackmailer.
"What do you want?" asked Claire, wanting to end this encounter.
Stone leaned closer. He looked like he was about to whisper in her ear, but he quickly grabbed Claire's head with his hands. He pressed his lips to hers, forcefully kissing her. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, and then suddenly reversed the assault by possessively sucking her tongue into his own mouth. Claire struggled to escape this forced embrace, repulsed by his boldness, terrified by the lightning-fast assault. She finally broke away, retreating from Stone until her back was against the wall.
"You bastard!" Claire gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand to get his taste out of her. Frantic, she looked around the bar expecting someone to come to her assistance, but no one was paying any attention. The taste of his drink filled her mouth. Claire was furious. But kissing in a stripper bar was not unusual. No one noticed her distress.
Claire's face felt hot. Blood rushing to her head made the veins in her temple throb. She gripped the edge of the table ready to run. But she was trapped. Claire was determined not to let Stone force himself on her again. Stone lifted a hand, and Claire flinched as if she expected to be slapped. A bar maid responded to his wave. She took Stone's drink and gave him another.
Claire watched him in fear. Stone studied Claire like a snake, squinting his eyes into small slits, moving his head from side to side as if were looking for a place to strike. Claire's eyes grew wide with fear. She blinked rapidly, alert for an attack. She hated Stone, but felt strangely attracted to him. He had power over her. He had something she wanted. He had a videotape of her brother, Tommy, at the scene of a drug-related murder. She needed the tape, and she needed Stone's silence. Stone was dangerous. He could strike out without warning. Claire felt vulnerable. And she feared Stone's bite could be deadly.
"If you cooperate, I'll give you the tape of your brother, and I'll forget it ever happened," Stone said coldly. He looked sincere. But could Claire trust him?
Claire regained her composure. "You want a little 'quid pro quo'?" she asked boldly.
"That's right, honey. Move closer to me."
Claire slid away from the wall toward Stone. The booth table could easily sit three, and there was still a considerable gap between them.
"A little more," urged Stone.
She moved closer.
Stone made no move to touch her.
"More," said Stone.
Claire moved toward Stone until her leg almost touched his. They were sitting side by side as close as a couple could sit without touching.
"Relax," smiled Stone. "This is not going to hurt."
Claire needed help. She never should have agreed to meet Stone. She never should have come into a stripper bar alone. The craziness of her plight was maddening. She could not call the police. Even if there were a policeman in the bar, what could she tell him? She had been kissed without permission? As a New York District Attorney, she knew the hopelessness of such an accusation. Stone would talk his way out of it, and she would end up looking like a fool. What if she told the truth? If Claire told the police Stone had videotaped evidence of a murder, Stone would say that he had already given the tape to Claire. He was the just the good citizen trying to help out, but she could get disbarred for non-disclosure of evidence. Then there was the physical evidence to explain. Her blood. Her hair. If she admitted being blackmailed, her brother risked a murder conviction.
Claire peered into the darkness of the bar. Maybe, someone in the bar could help her. But how? Even if she escaped Stone this evening, nothing changed. He would simply call her for another date. And she would come. The awful truth hit home. She would come. Claire felt Stone's hand gently rubbing her thigh out of sight, under the table. Claire knew there was no way out.
Ashamed to let Stone see her tears, Claire turned her head away from him and urged herself to be strong. She breathed deeply to regain her sense of balance. Stone mistook it for a gasp of pleasure and moved his hand higher between her legs. Claire reminded herself that she was an intelligent District Attorney, a lawyer trained to talk her way out of any situation. She could reason with him. But with Stone's hand rubbing between her legs, her brain had gone on vacation. Her brilliant legal mind had turned to mush.
Stone yanked her skirt above her thighs, all the way to her panties, before withdrawing his hand.Looking Claire directly in the eyes, he moved his hand over his drink and dipped his fingers into the alcohol. Claire watched Stone wet his fingers and lower his hand under the table. She recoiled from the wet fingers with revulsion. Suddenly, she seethed with anger. Claire lost her temper. She shouted at Stone.
"Keep your fingers away, or I'll call the police!"
As soon as the words flew from her mouth, Claire was embarrassed by how silly they sounded. People nearby stopped talking. They looked at Claire expectantly. Stone raised his drink, toasting the onlookers, and smiled affably. Claire hunched down in the booth, embarrassed. She wanted to disappear. Calling attention to herself with a man like Stone in a stripper bar was the last thing Claire needed. Her reputation would be ruined.
"Go ahead and call the cops," Stone challenged her. He leaned toward Claire and grabbed her hand. She tried to pull it away, but he held it firmly.
"You're a bad girl, Claire."
"You don't own me," insisted Claire. "I won't let you."
Claire spat the words out of her mouth like a prosecutor demanding a maximum sentence.
Sensing her determination, Stone released Claire's hand. His eyes wandered over her body, tracing the contours of her curves. It made her feel violated and dirty. But Stone stopped touching her. He respected her resistance. He nodded begrudgingly, waiting while Claire pulled down her skirt. It was a stand-off.
"We can work something out," offered Claire.
"We can," agreed Stone amiably.
"You only get one bite of the apple," continued Claire.
"That a legal phrase?" asked Stone.
"Yes. It means this is a one-time deal."
"OK. I'll set up an exchange."
Stone stood up. Claire was free to leave the booth. As she brushed wrinkles out of her skirt, she warned Stone.
"Don't ever touch me again," Claire told him, pressing her advantage, "or the deal is off and I'll just take my consequences."
Both Detectives Brisco and Logan were working the telephones, fishing for leads in the Crawford murder investigation. Detective Brisco called the M.E., Dr. Timmons, for the autopsy results.
Death by misfortune. Death by drugs. Death by accident. Death by rape. Detective Brisco had seen it all. He did not expect any help from Dr. Timmons.
"Dr. Timmons, Detective Brisco here. I was hoping you might have something new on the Crawford autopsy."
"Sorry, but what we have is a heroin overdose, plain and simple. No other cause of death. From the needle marks, it looked like Ms Crawford was a long-time addict. She was overdue. It was her time."
"Anything from the rape kit test?" asked Brisco hopefully.
"Sorry, again. All negative. No signs of vaginal trauma. All sexual activity was consensual. Also, no DNA match with any registered sex offenders."
"So, you've got nothing for us?" Brisco's voice betrayed his disappointment.
"Just an I.D. on the perpetrator," said Dr. Timmons.
"Whaddya mean?" shouted Brisco, slurring his words with excitement.
"Didn't Claire tell you? She sent in blood and hair samples that made a perfect match with those found at the scene."
"She did?"
"Yep! Check with Claire. I think she solved your case for you."
"Us detectives are always the last to know," said Brisco, hanging up.
So Claire was holding out, thought Brisco. Why would she do that? What was Claire hiding?
Logan got off the phone.
"I just tracked down the owner of the apartment building. Guess who owns the Hargrove Lofts?"
"Who?"
"Luther Stone. Three years ago, Claire Kincaid sent him to Attica on a five to seven-year drug conviction."
"It's a small world," said Brisco, rubbing his chin.
"You get anything new from the forensic lab?" asked Logan.
"Naw, same old stuff," lied Brisco.
"Maybe we ought to run Luther Stone's prints against the ones found at the murder scene," suggested Logan.
"Good idea."
"We already have a DNA sample from Stone on file from his last conviction. Let's check it for a match."
The investigation moved forward.
At 10:00 am on Friday, the Fantasy Club was closed but not empty. Footsteps and voices echoed in the church-like silence. Stone led Claire Kincaid down a long hallway with doors every few feet. The rooms were very small, like hundreds of confessional booths in a Catholic nightmare.
"These are fantasy booths," explained Stone.
"The customer sits on one side, a nude woman sits on the other side. Between them is a one-way mirror. The man can see the woman, but the woman cannot see the man. The man tells the woman what he wants through a speakerphone."
Claire looked at Stone with relief. This was going to be easier than she thought.
"And you want me to play your fantasy girl?"
"Bingo!" said Stone.
"What's the fantasy?"
"I'll let that be a surprise."
"Do I have to change into a costume?"
"No, but you may have to undress," Stone admitted.
"How long?" asked Claire Kincaid.
"No more than one hour. When we're done, I'll give you the tape."
Stone unlocked a door with an 'Employees Only' sign and guided Claire to a booth. Facing Claire was a mirror window. "I can do this," Claire told herself. "He cannot touch me. I will not even have to look at him."
Stone closed the door, leaving Claire alone in the fantasy booth. Claire looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was dressed casually in a pink blouse and grey skirt. Her only makeup was a light touch of blue eye shadow and some pink lipstick. She primped in the mirror, waiting for Stone to get settled in on the other side.
Stone's voice took Claire by surprise.
"So you came to gloat?" he asked.
"No, that's not true," Claire said in automatic denial.
For a second, Claire felt Stone had read her mind. She had been gloating. Stone would not be touching her. She was back in control. Words were Claire's life. Twisting words in courtrooms was Claire's world. If Stone wanted words, Claire was his woman. She could do this.
"Why else would you visit me here in prison?" asked Stone.
This question caught Claire off balance. This was not a prison. This was a fantasy booth. Then it hit her. This was Stone's fantasy. The attractive female district attorney visiting a convicted felon in prison after his drug conviction. Claire had prepared herself to talk dirty and perform to obscene commands. But Stone did not want blind obedience. To fulfill Stone's fantasy, Claire would need to play herself.
"Answer my question, bitch!" hissed Stone impatiently.
"You're a loser, Stone," Claire shouted back.
"So you did come to gloat?"
"Not, gloat. I came to show you what you'll be missing for the next 5 years."
Claire let her finger trace a path down the middle of her chest and circled around the curve of her breasts.
"You'd like to see them, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, show them to me."
"Make me."
"I can't. You know I'm locked up."
"That's right. The beast is behind bars."
"... and the beauty is free."
Claire was enjoying this. She really was in control. But she knew she would have to submit. If she did not give Stone his fantasy, there would be no deal. She needed to keep up her end of the bargain.
"Eat your heart out," Claire said to her reflection, standing up. Grabbing the edges of her dress with both hands, Claire watched herself lift it above her waist, revealing her white panties before letting her skirt fall back down. She flashed a teasing smile at the mirror.
"Take them off."
"Take what off?" asked Claire innocently.
"Your panties."
"Oh, you nasty man," said Claire coquettishly.
But she obeyed. She put her hands under her skirt and rolled the panties down her long legs. She held her panties under her nose and pretended to smell them.
"Hmm! They smell so good."
Claire pressed the panties against the mirror.
"Too bad, you can't smell them."
Claire heard a low moan. She must be doing it right. Why not speed things up? If he climaxed, she could leave early. She remembered what a prostitute she had prosecuted had once told her. In the hands of a skilled woman, most men lasted less than 7 minutes. Just a few squirts, and it was all over.
"Look at me," Claire commanded, watching herself in the mirror as she unbuttoned her blouse. She cupped her hands beneath her bra, pushing her breasts together.
"Do you like my tits?"
She heard another moan.
Claire lifted both her breasts out of their cups and let them hang out over the top of her bra. She pushed her tits toward the mirror, letting the nipples brush against the cold glass. Claire could just imagine what Stone was thinking. She could feel her nipples harden. She mashed her boobs against the glass, making them bulge and flatten out. From the other side, it must look gross, thought Claire with satisfaction.
"Are you stroking your cock?" Claire asked into the mirror, so close that her breath left a small cloud of condensation.
"Maybe," answered Stone, not giving anything away.
He was as slippery as a snake, thought Claire. She would never pin him down. Determined to break Stone, Claire abruptly slumped in her chair and thrust both feet toward the mirror, her shoes making a loud snap as they hit the glass. Her skirt stretched tightly between her open legs, Claire opened herself up for viewing. She heard another groan.
"Touch yourself," Stone begged.
Claire pushed her fingers between her legs, spreading her lips open. With her legs spread wide under her skirt, Claire was giving Stone a perfect view.Her cunt gaped open, and her puckered asshole was obscenely visible. She inserted two fingers and fucked herself for Stone's pleasure. Any minute and it will be over, Claire told herself. She had no idea what a twisted path Stone's fantasy would take.
"What if your father saw you like this, Claire? Are you daddy's little whore?" Stone asked.
"Yes, I'm daddy's whore," Claire responded. She would say anything to keep the fantasy going.
"What about your brother, Tommy? Would you fuck him, too?"
"Yes, I want to fuck Tommy."
"I..." She stopped, unable to say the words. Claire swallowed hard and started again. "I want to fuck my brother, Tommy."
"Yes, you want his big hard cock," urged Stone.
"I want him to fuck me with his hard cock. I want to be my brother's sex slave. Tommy can fuck my pussy, or take me in the ass. I've wanted to fuck my brother for a long, long time."
"Suck on your fingers, Claire."
Claire pushed the fingers from her left hand into her mouth.
"No. Your other hand. Suck on the fingers that were in your pussy."
Claire shook her head in refusal.
"Do it, Claire. Do it for your brother, Tommy."
Claire was puzzled. What was this incestuous fantasy about Tommy? She brushed the fingertips of her right hand over her lips, finally pushing them inside her mouth. She licked her fingers, trailing her tongue all the way down to the fingernails, as if she were licking a cock.
"Again."
Claire took her saliva-coated fingers and penetrated herself again. She fucked herself briefly before moving her fingers into her open mouth and sucking loudly.
"Aah, that's good, Claire. You're a good little girl."
Claire increased her efforts. She alternated her thrusting fingers from mouth to pussy and back again until she was dripping. A small pool of fluids was forming between her legs.
"Beg for it, Claire," Stone hissed.
She didn't reply.
"Beg for Tommy's cock!"
"No."
"You're a dripping slut. Beg Tommy to fuck you."
Claire's resolve weakened. She needed to end this.
"I want it," Claire whispered.
"Say it, whore. What do you want?"
"I want Tommy to..." Claire could not finish.
"Fuck you?"
"Yes," Claire sobbed. She could no longer tell if she was acting out a fantasy or living a nightmare. Her fingers froze.
"Say it louder," he insisted.
"I want Tommy to fuck me," Claire gasped.
"Keep fingering yourself."
Claire resumed fucking herself with her fingers.
"Say it again."
"Please, fuck me," Claire begged.
"Fuck you where?"
"In my pussy."
"What about your ass?"
"Yes, fuck my ass. Fuck me with your cock."
"Make me feel it, Claire."
"Please fuck me," she sobbed.
Claire heard a long low moan.
"Do it, Claire, masturbate. Make yourself come."
Claire paused. Nervously, she turned her eyes away from him toward the door. No escape. She realized there was no way out. Her hesitation thrilled him. Then in shame, she obeyed his command. There was nothing else to do. Slipping her fingers over her sopping mound, Claire rubbed herself. Her body trembled.
Her horror at the thought of what would happen to her if she stopped stroking herself was stronger than her disgust of Stone, and what he was forcing her to do. Claire's moans conceded her state of arousal. She was his play toy. She shuddered.
Claire screamed in a high-pitched wail, shaking her head from side to side in a frantic effort to deny herself the pleasure of the climax that was building inside her body, the pleasure she desperately wanted to avoid. But her orgasm kept building. The electric sensation flooded through her. A wave of pleasure swept over her.
Claire could not stop climaxing. Her heart thundered in her ears. She lost control. Her body trembled more powerfully than ever, shaking from wave after wave of mind-numbing orgasm. And she started to cry. Tears streamed down her face. It was the final humiliation. Stone had forced her to masturbate herself to a climax.
Her dignity had been shattered. She was mortified. She had shared her most intimate act with Stone, more intimate than sex itself. He had watched her climax with her breasts hanging out over the top of her bra, her skirt taut between her spread legs, and her shoes planted firmly against the mirror window. Claire could see her own image. She could see herself in the mirror. She was ashamed. Her dignity had always been of paramount importance to her. Tears streamed down her face.
Claire moaned in misery.
"I'm not done with you yet, Claire."
"Kiss me, Claire."
Claire puckered her lips and kissed the air.
"No, kiss the mirror."
Claire moved her lips to the mirror.
"Lower."
She moved lower.
"To your left."
Claire obeyed. She pressed her lips against the cold glass, kissing, twisting her mouth in a gross parody of a kiss, leaving a circle of smeared lipstick.
"Once more."
Claire kissed the glass again, closing her eyes. When Claire opened her eyes, her lips were pressed hard against a spurting cock on the other side of the window. The lamp in her booth was off. The mirror was now just plain glass. Claire had expected some sort of trick from Stone, but not this. Never this. The face behind the glass was not Luther's. It was her brother, Tommy. Claire watched as her brother's cock gave one final spurt that dripped down the side of the glass.
Her heart sank.
Claire was devastated.
She was degraded beyond imagination.
In a blind rush, Claire bolted from the fantasy booth. Stone met her in the hallway, pressing a videotape into her hand. Claire had earned the tape, but she was too humiliated to even ask for it. Clasping her unbuttoned blouse together with one hand, and holding the video tape in the other hand, Claire ran out of the Fantasy Club. All she wanted was to escape.
723 East Park Avenue
Apartment 327
New York City, N.Y.
Monday July 25th
For several days, Claire deliberately avoided her brother, Tommy. She left for work early and came home late. She was too humiliated to face him, but relieved that her ordeal was over. Claire hoped that with time, Tommy would forget and forgive. Stone phoned her at home one evening when Tommy was out.
"Hello, Ms Kincaid."
Claire recognized his voice immediately.
"We have nothing to discuss, Mr. Stone. Just one bite of the apple. Did you forget?"
Claire was ready to hang up, but Stone's words stopped her.
"Did you enjoy the videotape? It's Tommy's favorite."
Something was wrong. The hair on the back of Claire's neck stood up. A feeling of dread crept over her. She found the videotape Stone had pressed into her hand when she fled the Fantasy Club. Claire inserted it in the VCR. It was the wrong tape. My God! This was a tape of Claire in the fantasy booth. My God, thought Claire, Stone had videotaped her through the mirror.
"You bastard!" Claire yelled into the phone.
"Tommy loves your video. He has seen it dozens of times. No one else has seen it. I should sell it as a porno video so millions of men could watch it and fuck you in their dreams. Your reputation would be ruined."
"What do you want," Claire sobbed in defeat.
"I want you to have sex."
"I'd die before having sex with you," swore Claire.
"Not me, Claire. I want you to fuck Tommy."
Claire Kincaid's felt her life spinning out-of-control. The room started to turn. She fainted.
When Claire revived, Tommy was standing over her. He was rubbing his crotch.
"Tommy," Claire asked.
Tommy looked down at his sister.
"Yes?"
"Do you want to fuck me?"
"I sure do."
Tommy took his shirt off and unbuckled his belt.
"Is Stone forcing you to do this?"
Tommy kicked off his shoes.
"No."
"Then why are you taking off your clothes? It's wrong to have sex with your own sister."
"It's wrong, but I can't stop thinking about it. After watching the videotape of you fucking yourself, and begging me to fuck you, I can't get you out of my mind. I want you."
Tommy dropped his pants to the floor. He was already fully erect. Stone had been exciting Tommy by showing him the videotape of Claire's pornographic performance in the fantasy booth. How many times had Tommy seen the video? Claire had masturbated to save her brother Tommy from a possible murder conviction. Now Tommy was going to screw her. All of Claire's good intentions were turning out wrong. Stone had twisted everything around. Claire had given up trying to help Tommy. Now she just wanted to save herself.
Seeing no way out of this forced incest, Claire took off her clothes and laid down on the bed. Tommy climbed on top of her. He was awkward. All elbows and knees. His hot cock throbbed insistently against her thigh. There were no condoms. Tommy would not be using a condom, but there would also would be no baby. Claire was on the pill.
Once he had a goal, Tommy pursued it with a simple-minded determination. His hands were clumsy and fumbling. He was excited. He would not be stopped.
Claire felt her resolve hardening along with her brother's erection. She could not do this. She could not fuck her own brother. Claire kept stalling him. She told Tommy, she had to get comfortable and moved the pillows. But Tommy was insistent. Without warning, the telephone rang. Claire answered the telephone, but it failed to slow down Tommy's mindless lust.
"Hello, this is Dr. Cook's Office calling from the Metropolitan Health Center," said a deep rumbling voice.
Claire could feel Tommy's hands pushing her legs apart.
"Hello," said Claire.
"Is Ms Kincaid home?"
"This is Ms Kincaid speaking."
Tommy had managed to get his hips between her legs. She could not keep them closed. He had won.Nothing would stop him now. Tommy ignored the fact that Claire was talking on the telephone. He would fuck her as she talked.
"We're calling to notify you about the test results for Tommy." Claire felt Tommy's fingers probing inside her. She was wet. His cock pressed insistently against Claire's inner thigh. "What results?" Claire asked.
"The HIV test taken last week came back positive."
Without a word, Claire dropped the phone. Stone was going to kill her. He was using Tommy to kill her. In a panic, she tried to push Tommy off. But he was too heavy. He pushed her back onto the bed. Tommy had a weak mind, but strong muscles. He would win this battle. Claire felt the tip of his cock touch her outer lips, getting ready to thrust himself inside her. Claire knew. She was dead.
Frantic, Claire whipped her head from side to side looking for a weapon. She was fighting for her life. Without thinking, she grabbed a pair of scissors off the night table. She stabbed Tommy several times in the back. He screamed in pain. His screams, and the sounds of something falling were heard by Stone on the other end of the dropped telephone. Claire ran to her closet. She yanked a gun out of her underwear drawer, pulled a raincoat on over her naked body, and fled. Claire intended to kill herself. Suicide was the only option left.
Claire wandered aimlessly for hours before returning to her apartment. She had rejected the idea of suicide. If she killed herself, Stone won. He wanted her dead. She was determined to live. She wanted to defeat Stone. Her apartment was empty. A pool of blood had soaked into her bed. Tommy was gone. A note was taped to the headboard of the bed.
"Taking care of the body. Sorry things went bad. I will never tell anyone. Love, Luther"
My God, thought Claire. Tommy was dead. Stone had disposed of the body. She had killed her own brother. In a daze, Claire stripped the bed, soaked the sheets in cold water, and made up the bed with fresh sheets. The routine domestic actions helped numb her mind. It stopped her from thinking. She was a killer. Claire did not sleep all night.
In the morning, the telephone rang. "Claire, it's Stone." She did not answer. "Claire, everything is going to be OK." "Nothing will ever be OK," Claire mumbled. She dropped the phone and started crying. Still wearing her raincoat, Claire cried herself to sleep.
When Claire woke up, Stone was holding her. His hands were caring and gentle. It felt good to be held. But Claire's anger ignited. Stone was touching her again. His arms were around her. It would never end. He was responsible for the death of her brother, Tommy. Silently, she slipped the gun out of her raincoat and shot him 3 times at point-blank range.
Stone was dead.
Detectives Brisco & Logan promised to make a slam-dunk case of self-defense in testimony before the grand jury. Stone was an ex-convict previously convicted by Claire Kincaide who stalked her. He broke into her apartment for revenge.
But there are a few loose ends. In Stone's pocket was a key chain with a large white rabbit's foot. The key opened the door to Claire's apartment. It belonged to Claire's brother, Tommy. Tommy was missing. Claire did not know where he was. In addition to breaking into Claire Kincaid's apartment, Stone was suspected of foul play in the disappearance of Tommy Kincaid.
Detective Logan was returning his daughter, Megan, to her mother. She was departing on American Airlines flight 818 from New York to Tampa, Florida at 10:00 am. He shared joint custody with his ex-wife.
After his daughter, Megan, pre-boarded, Detective Logan noticed a disturbance at an adjacent arriving flight from Florida. Tommy Kincaid was sitting on the floor surrounded by 3 airport security guards. He was crying, and yelling that his rabbit's foot was lost. Detective Logan intervened.
"Tommy Kincaid, I'm Detective Logan. I work with your sister. Do you remember me?"
Tommy grabbed Detective Logan's leg in a hug. "Can you help me find my rabbit's foot?"
"I already found it. It's in the police property room. Do you know where my sister is?"
"Yes, she went to Luther Stone's funeral."
"Stone is dead?"
"Yes, he did something bad." Detective Logan did not want to mention his attack on Tommy's sister. Tommy was already upset.
"Stone was good, not bad. He sent me to Disneyworld."
"Is that where you've been for the past week?"
"Yes. I had fun."
"Your sister, Claire, will be glad to hear you're OK."
"I don't know my way home," Tommy said.
"Come with me."
Tommy took Detective Logan's hand.
Following the advice of her psychiatrist, Claire Kincaid attended the burial ceremony for Luther Stone. It was intended to provide closure. By attending the burial, she might avoid developing post-traumatic stress.
Detective Lenny Brisco and Claire Kincaid stood apart from Luther Stone's family watching the first shovel full of dirt dumped on the casket. It was a small gathering. No more than four, not counting the minister, Claire, and Brisco.
"Life is a mystery," repeated Detective Brisco, mimicking the eulogy of the minister. Claire remained silent. "Death is a mystery, too," continued Brisco. He looked at Claire as if he expected her to answer. "But not everyone's death is mysterious," finished Brisco. Claire looked at Detective Brisco. "What are you trying to say?" Claire asked.
Detective Brisco did not answer. He watched Luther's family and the minister walk away. They headed across the grass to their cars. The funeral was over. Claire and Brisco were alone.
"There is no statute of limitations on murder, is there?" Detective Brisco asked Claire. "It was self-defense," said Claire. "I was talking about your brother, Tommy." "Tommy?"
Claire could not look Detective Brisco in the eyes. He knows, she thought. He knows what happened.
"I read the note written by Luther Stone about disposing of Tommy's body. You conspired with Stone to cover up Tommy's death, and then you killed Stone so he couldn't blackmail you."
Claire Kincaid offered a weak rebuttal. "In the end, Luther Stone received justice. Not courtroom justice, but justice none-the-less," she said. "But what about you?" Det. Brisco looked at Claire. He knows, thought Claire. "Me?" "Which do you want, justice or redemption?"
After a long period of silence, Claire hung her head and whispered, "Justice should be tempered with mercy." "Follow me to my car and I'll give you some hard mercy." He cupped his groin.
Detective Brisco was confident. He knew people. Claire was guilty. He turned his back on her and walked toward his car without looking back. Claire stood still for a long time before making her first step.
Inside the police car, Claire unzipped Detective Brisco's pants. She sucked him into her mouth without a word. Getting a blow job in a cemetery by an assistant district attorney right after attending a burial was a new one for Brisco. A sense of unreality enveloped him. He climaxed almost immediately.
Someone shouted. A man was running up the cemetery hill toward Brisco's car. He shoved Claire's head off his lap. It was Tommy Kincaid. Claire heard Tommy yelling her name. Tommy was alive. He was running up the hill with Detective Logan trailing behind.
Detective Brisco zipped up, confused. If Tommy was alive, why did Claire Kincaid just give him a blow job?
"Life is a mystery," Claire repeated Brisco's own words back to him. She flashed him a quick smile before opening the car door to run toward Tommy.
Detective Logan joined his partner Lenny Brisco. They watched as Claire and Tommy hugged.
"A strange case, huh?" commented Logan.
"Stranger than you'll ever know," agreed Brisco. | 4 |
6,273 | Citation | "Damn!" The patrol car's blue and red flashers loomed large in my rearview mirror... I had been caught. I pulled into the parking lot of a large mall simply because traffic on the street was too heavy. I held on to a faint hope the patrol car would keep going, but no luck; it pulled in right behind me.
For the first time, I got a good look at the officer behind the wheel. Auburn hair and hazel eyes... the kind that could melt ice cubes or start fires in other places.
"If I have to get a ticket, at least it will come from a good-looking lady," I muttered out loud.
When she stepped from the patrol car, I received a double surprise - not only did she have a stunning-looking face, but she filled her uniform magnificently! She wasn't petite by any means, but she wasn't an amazon either. She was very shapely and looked like she could handle herself in any situation, from a street brawl to the bedroom. Looking at her walk as she approached my car, I felt that familiar warmth and stirring in the most private parts of my body.
"What the hell, John," I said to myself, "Let's have a little fun." As she approached, I noticed the absence of a wedding ring, something I always look for on good-looking women, not that a wedding ring really makes a difference - the approach is just different. I rolled down my window and waited.
She stood cautiously about three feet from my door. I put both hands on the steering wheel to let her know I meant no harm. I looked up at those deep, hazel eyes with a big grin on my face...
"I hope you realize," I said good-naturedly, "this has completely destroyed any possibility of a meaningful relationship between us."
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, radiating a twinkle that promised a great sense of humor. A wide smile came shortly after, and she hid it with her hand.
"Excuse me," she said in a silky voice that failed to hide the amusement she was feeling. "I'll be right back. Please stay where you are." She returned to her patrol car and got in. I could see her laughing in my rearview, aided by the lights in her car and the lights in the parking lot. Officer K. Edwards had a sense of humor all right; I was determined to test it to the limit.
While she sat in the patrol car, I unzipped my slacks and fished out my semi-hard cock. The mere sight of the way she filled her uniform made me tingle all over... a few sensual strokes, and my cock stood up in my lap like a submarine's periscope looking for something to torpedo. A quick check of the rearview showed me she was returning. Her countenance composed and all business.
"May I have your driver's license, registra... Oh Shit!" She had seen the periscope. I looked deep into her eyes and saw no humor in them. I had carried my little joke too far.
"Sir," she said in a controlled and level tone of voice, "please put your penis back in your pants and step out of the car." Her right hand rested on the handle of the gun at her side.
"I'm sorry, Officer Edwards, I..."
"Do it now." She cut me off sternly, her hand tightening on the gun handle. I knew she meant business. I was sorry I had gone as far as I did and was a little embarrassed and frightened. I stuffed my cock back in my pants as best I could while she watched. I got out of the car.
"Face the car, put your feet apart, lean against the car with your hands on the roof."
"Oh, come on, officer. I was only..."
"Please DO IT, sir."
I was really scared now, and the fear only made my now aching cock even harder. I assumed the position she requested, my heart thudding in my chest, pumping even more blood into my already stiff shaft. She pulled my feet further away from my car with her own, forcing my weight onto my hands, setting me off balance.
Beginning at my ankles, she frisked me, moving slowly upward, first on the outside, then the inside of my legs. When she reached my crotch, she pushed gently upward on my testicles, then moved her hand firmly along the length of my now throbbing cock. I felt a bead of lubricating liquid ooze from the tip.
"I suppose you think this is funny." She seemed just a little out of breath, but her voice still had that silky, sensual tone laced with authority.
"N-no, officer." I was really frightened now. "I can't help it, something about you really turns me on."
Her hand left my cock and continued expertly exploring the upper regions of my body.
"Put your left hand behind you back, please." Her manner was professional and all business. I felt the cold chrome steel of the handcuff close around my wrist. "Now your right hand, please." She finished cuffing me, turned me around, and leaned me against the car.
"Aw, c'mon officer, you're not really going to..."
"Shut up or I'll gag you too!" Her voice was even and low. It had lost that sensual silkiness. She meant what she said.
"You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." I couldn't believe I had been so stupid, exposing myself to a cop. She finished Mirandizing me and locked up my car.
"I'm taking you to the station for booking. The charge is indecent exposure." She led me to the patrol car, opened the rear door, and helped me in.
"Shit!" I thought, "Nine o'clock at night and I'm on my way to jail for flashing my cock at a cop!"
She glanced back at me in the rearview mirror from time to time. I couldn't swear to it, but I thought I saw that sparkle in her eyes again...like a predator cat toying with its victim just before the kill.
"Look on the bright side," she said, that silkiness back in her voice, "I'm not going to give you a ticket."
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to forget about my, shall we say, stupidity back there, would you?"
"Not a chance! You're going to pay for this one, mister."
"John," I said weakly. "Listen, I didn't mean any disrespect, Officer Edwards...may I ask you your first name?"
"Sure," she said evenly, "you can ask."
"What is your first name, officer?"
"Patrolwoman Edwards, badge 6973," she said. "Now button it up, creep, we're almost there."
"This is it," I thought. "My life ruined and all because I had to have a little fun...SHIT!"
She pulled the patrol car into the driveway of what looked like a deserted building across the street from the police station.
"Hey," I said, "isn't that the police station across the street?"
"That's the new station, this is the old station. We use the old station as a holding area. You're not getting booked until morning. Give you a chance to cool off."
"But Officer..."
"I told you to button it! One more word and you get a gag...I mean it!" She pulled to a stop at the rear of the building and helped me out. I thought it rather strange there were no lights in the parking lot, and none on in the building. She led me in to the building, her flashlight leading the way.
"Hey, wait a second! Where are you..."
"Shut up!" she said, and took us to the basement and a long row of deserted cells. She stopped in front of one of the cells and removed the handcuffs. I turned around to see the barrel of her revolver aimed at the center of my chest.
"Now back up, slowly, into the cell." The gun barrel didn't waver an inch...I backed in slowly.
"Strip."
"What?" I couldn't believe what I'd heard. "I'm not stripping for you or anyone else. I want to make a phone call."
She cocked the revolver and aimed it lower. "Strip or I'll give you a .38 caliber vasectomy, you son-of-a-bitch."
I stripped down to my undershorts and socks and stood there like an adolescent at his first dance. My hard-on had long since vanished. All I felt now was a slight nausea and weakness in my knees.
"Take it all off," she said evenly. I did as she commanded, first the socks then, hesitantly, the underwear. I cupped my hands in front of my private parts.
"A little shy?" she asked, smiling. "You were anxious enough to show it to me a little while ago."
"Look, Patrolwoman Edwards," I said weakly, "that was a mistake and I'm sorry."
"Kate," she said with her silky voice, "now lie down on the bunk on your back." Her revolver was still aimed at my shriveled privates. I stretched out on the bunk.
"Here," she said, tossing the handcuffs at me, "put the chain through the bars on the bunk and cuff both hands.""When I had done that, she produced a pair of plastic strip ties and bound my feet, spread eagled, to the foot of the bunk.
She came to the side of the bunk and sat down next to me. She put the barrel of her revolver under my limp cock and lifted it. The coldness of the steel sent shivers through my body.
"Pathetic looking little thing," she said laughing, "what's the matter, stud, can't get it up?"
I moaned in embarrassment. She got up and hung the heavy wool blanket from the other bunk across the cell window, then lit a large candle that had been in the sink. A warm glow of light and eerie shadows filled the cell.
She stood in the center of the cell, put her gun in its holster, and removed the belt. She tossed it on the empty bunk. Slowly, she reached behind her head and did something with her hair. It fell across her shoulders flashing like deep burning embers in the candlelight.
"I'll make you a deal," she said, standing with her legs slightly apart, hands on her hips, "if I'm happy with you in the morning, you go free. If not, you go to jail."
My mouth fell open in astonishment and I could feel the hydraulic system in my loins begin to pump blood into my limp meat. "Huh?" was all I could manage.
"Either that," she purred with that silky voice, "or I take you across the street and book you right now. What'll it be? A night of pleasure or a police record?"
"What do I have to do to make you happy?"
"It's really very simple. Until six tomorrow morning, you are going to be my slave. If you do everything, EVERYTHING I tell you to do, and don't complain about anything...I'll be happy and you'll be free. Fail to comply just once, or complain the slightest bit...and I book you as a pervert. Deal?"
"I-I'll give it a try, Kate. May I call you Kate?"
"You may. Now for the rules. You may make any sounds of passion you wish and as loud as you wish. No one will hear us. You may not touch me unless I give you my permission. I will do with you whatever I please and you will not complain. That's all there is to it."
"O-okay," I said timidly, "I'll try."
She unbuttoned the blouse of her uniform and removed it. Her ample breasts trapped by her bra swelled in the middle like two gently rolling hills. She reached behind her and set them free, tossing her bra on the empty bunk with her blouse. She cupped her breasts, lifting them slightly and looked from them to me.
"Do you like my breasts, slave?"
Frantically trying to remember the rules she had outlined, I replied, "Yes, Kate, they're magnificent." I didn't have to pretend to answer, either...they were truly amazing!
She approached me slowly, still cupping those beautiful globes. When she got to me she leaned over and put one of her erect nipples about a half inch from my lips. My cock had come fully awake now and was standing at attention. I wanted to take that succulent nipple in my mouth...taste its sweetness and nibble on it...my cock began to pulsate.
"May I take your nipple in my mouth, Kate?"
"NO!" she said, a huskiness in her silky voice, her breathing deeper and a little faster. She closed the distance between her nipple and my lips, pushing it lightly against my mouth. My loins were screaming at my lips and teeth to open up and take that hard little bud inside...my mind kept my mouth tightly shut. After what seemed like centuries, she stood up.
"You've passed my little test, slave. Do you want to suck on my nipple?"
"Oh yes, Kate, please, I beg you, put your nipple in my mouth." At that moment I wasn't acting or playing a slave game, my entire being ached to taste her.
"Very well," she purred seductively, "you're a good slave and deserve a reward. The better you are, the more rewards you get." She leaned over me again. I parted my hungry lips and raised my head to meet her descending nipple. She held it just out of reach. I couldn't help myself, little boy whimpering sounds escaped my throat in anticipation.
"Please, oh please, Kate," I whimpered, "I'll do anything you say, ANYTHING, just let me taste your nipple."
"I know you will, darling," she whispered, "I know you will." She lowered her hard nipple to my parted lips. I closed them around it and slowly traced a path around its base with my tongue. Her eyes closed and a soft moan came out of her. She pushed harder with her breast and I opened my mouth wider to take all she wanted to give.
"Yessss slave! Suck my breast!" Her breathing was heavier.
I captured her nipple in my teeth and began nibbling from the base, working my way to the tip, then flicked, licked and sucked, then began nibbling again. Her moaning became louder and more yearning. Without warning she stood up, pulling her breast from my mouth with a wet popping sound. I groaned in frustration and disappointment. "Something wrong, slave?" Her eyes flashed mischievously at mine, the sparkle had returned. "Do you want to suck on my nipple some more?" she asked teasingly. "You aren't complaining, are you?"
"No, mistress Kate, I'm not complaining. It's just that your nipples are so sweet, and firm...I could nibble and suck on them for hours."
"Perhaps later," she said, moving back to the center of the cell. "Right now I want you to see the rest of what you may or may not get to experience tonight."
She kicked her shoes off and flipped them onto the other bunk. Slowly, she unfastened the waistband of her slacks and lowered the zipper. My pulse quickened and my rigid cock began waving wildly in the air, its spasms completely beyond my control. My eyes were riveted on the juncture of her thighs as she continued to lower the zipper with one hand, the other holding the waistband together. As the zipper reached its lowest point, she turned her back to me. To say she was a master tease would be an understatement. I had no doubt she was serious when she told me I may or may not get to partake of her luscious charms. It became my fervent hope that she would be a compassionate mistress and allow me to become lost in ecstasy within her body.
She lowered her slacks from her waist to the top of her hips, looked back over her shoulder at me, blew me a sensuous kiss, then threw her head back and laughed teasingly. She began undulating her hips in a slow, circular motion. With each rotation she pushed the slacks lower on her hips. After what seemed an eternity, I could see the lacy waistband of her panties, black against the creamy smooth flesh of her lower back. She wasn't wearing pantyhose. Still lower the slacks went, driving me crazy with desire, until her entire buttocks were exposed, sheathed in filmy, black lace bikini panties. Her ass cheeks rotating against one another beneath the lace of her panties as she continued to undulate her hips. It was almost more than I could bear. I wanted to scream out, "Fuck me, Kate! Oh, please, slide your hot pussy down over my cock! I want to be inside you!" But I dared not for fear this would all end with a trip across the street and booking. So I simply lay there watching, my heart pounding in my chest, my cock throbbing mercilessly.
She stopped undulating her hips and simply let her slacks fall down around her ankles. Her bare legs were smooth and shapely and held promises of wondrous delights.
Slowly, she bent over at the waist without bending her knees. As she bent, the fabric of her panties tightened across her cheeks and the juncture between. Covered only by a thin strip of lace, her hidden pussy raised my blood to the boiling point. As she lifted first one leg, then the other to step out of her slacks, her pussy also shifted, first to one side, then the other. She was watching me now from between her legs, her upside down smile seemed somehow angelic and demonic at the same time.
She raised her hand between her legs and began moving her middle finger up and down the lace that covered her charms. She closed her eyes and moaned softly...I could barely hear it over the whimpering sounds I was making.
She moved the lace aside, exposing the deliriously luscious lips of her moist pussy. As I watched hypnotized, her finger slowly vanished between those lips.
"Oh God! Kate," I moaned, "you're driving me..." I became silent, remembering the "no complaint" rule.
She stopped, her finger buried deep in her pussy. Her eyes opened wide, staring at me upside down from between her long, shapely legs.
"You may continue, slave. Don't be afraid," she purred.
"CRAZY!" I shouted in pure animal lust. She jumped slightly at my shout, but kept her finger buried deep within her. I had never wanted a woman as badly as I wanted her at that moment.
"Oh God, please mistress..." Tears of frustration were streaming down my face, my body arched off the bed, my hips thrust into the air. "Let me ram my cock deep inside your pussy! GOD! IT HURTS...I FEEL LIKE I'M GOING TO BURST...I WANT YOU SO BADLY!" I was squirming all over the bunk, breathing heavily and moaning loudly.
"It hurts?" She asked, her finger now moving slowly in and out of her wet pussy, making me delirious with lust. "Is that a complaint, slave?"
"N-no, no mistress!" I replied quickly with gasping breath. "It's a good hurt! A wonderful hurt!"
"That's better," she purred, slowly removing her finger from her pussy. She stood up straight, turned sensually and came toward me, her pubic mound pushing at the lace...undulating...teasing.
She sat on the bunk next to me. "We'll have to do something about that hurt," she said. She took my throbbing, pulsating, aching cock in her hand and closed her fingers loosely around it. Then she ran the finger that had been buried deep in her wet pussy under my nose. As she did this, she squeezed my cock with her other hand. The sweet smell of her juices invaded my brain short-circuiting millions of neuro switches."Her scent and the squeezing pressure of her hand on my cock was too much. My balls tightened involuntarily, and a stream of hot, creamy cum erupted from the head of my cock and flowed over her hand. I tried to pump against her hand with my hips to release more of my pent-up fluid, but she released her grip on my hot cock immediately. It jerked a few times on its own, pumping liquid from the tip with each spasm. I could feel it hot against my skin as it worked its way down my shaft toward my balls. I wanted to scream in frustration, wanted to rape this hot cop bitch who held me captive, wanted to stab her to death with my hot, throbbing cock...all I did was whimper "Oh God, Kate...Oh God...Oh my God..."
"Does it feel better now?" she asked and laughed a deep, animal laugh. She slowly licked my cum from her hand. "You taste delicious, slave," she purred. "I'll have to have more....but later." She bent then, lowering her lips to mine, her tongue exploring the inside of my mouth. I could taste my own salty juices in her mouth and could smell the musky scent of my cum on her breath. My mind began to slip...I was driven slowly to the brink of sexual insanity by this taunting, teasing police officer!
She broke the kiss long before I wanted her to. I closed my eyes and savored the kiss, committing it to memory forever. Opening my eyes again, I looked down my body and saw her face in the vicinity of my still hard cock.
"Oh, look," she whispered sensually, "you've spilled some of your sweet cum." I could feel her hot breath on my cock and balls as she spoke. "Would my slave like me to clean him up?" she asked teasingly.
"Y-yesssss, please do." There was an aching, genuinely urgent tone in my voice.
"Do you think you deserve to be cleaned? Do you think you've been a good slave, darling John?" Her voice was teasing, taunting, driving me wild with desire and a deep, yawning urge to bury my hot cock into any opening she might offer.
"I've tried to be good, Mistress," I said timidly, not looking at her. As much as I tried to hold on to my masculinity, I failed. I really had become this incredibly sexy vixen's slave. At that moment, I knew I would do anything she asked. I'd do it gladly if it meant sampling her charms. Every nerve ending in my body was on a razor's edge...her slightest touch, anywhere on my body, sent waves of tingles and goose flesh racing throughout my entire being.
"Look at me, slave," she commanded.
I looked into her sparkling hazel eyes and became lost in a place I never wanted to escape from. I felt as if I were falling into transparent pools of hazel-colored liquid....if she didn't speak soon, I knew I would drown. At the last possible second, her voice pulled me out of her liquid eyes, saving me from being trapped there for eternity.
"Yes," she said slowly, "you have been a good slave, an obedient and tasty slave. You have earned another reward. I will let it be one of your own choosing. How would you like to be cleaned up, slave?"
My mind raced with the possibilities. I wanted my cock deep in her inviting pussy....I also wanted to feel it slide deep into her throat...I wanted to stuff its entire, throbbing length into her ass, too. I was so consumed with desire for this creature, I couldn't speak.
"Quickly, slave," she purred, "what part of your Mistress do you want me to clean your beautiful cock and balls with?"
"It's not a slave's place to choose, Mistress." It was as if someone else had spoken with my voice. I'd been given the chance to let my cock explore any part of this luscious body I desired, and I actually said it wasn't my place to choose!
"Ahhh, my sweet, sexy John slave." She was using that sexy voice of hers. "You are indeed the perfect slave. You pass each test I give you." With that, she lowered her head and cleaned the cum from my cock and balls with her luxuriously thick auburn hair. She wrapped my rigid cock in it and slowly moved it from the base of my shaft to the tip of its head. It was like pushing my cock through a silken tube....the sensation was so intense I nearly came again. I gasped from the pure pleasure of it. I had never imagined, in my wildest fantasies, that a woman's hair could feel so good!
When she finally finished cleaning me and lifted her head, I could see streaks of her hair stuck wetly together with my creamy cum.
"We're going to have some fun now, slave." She left the bunk and bent over a carry bag she had brought with her. Again, she bent at the waist, knees straight, giving me a direct view of her glorious pussy trapped beneath her lacy panties. She took her time rummaging through the bag, all the while shifting her weight from one leg to the other. The movement beneath her panties was driving me even deeper into the depths of sexual desire....and she knew it!
At long last, she stood up and turned to face me. In one hand, she held a small, penis-shaped vibrator, in the other was a string of ten wooden beads, each a quarter of an inch in diameter and spaced two inches apart on the string. I had heard stories of the beads and how they were used, but I had never experienced it...my blood raced at the thought. She approached slowly, her hips undulating, her weapons in her hands, a wide smile on her face.
She laid her weapons at the foot of the bed between my legs. Then she removed the pillow from beneath my head.
"Lift your ass," she commanded.
I obeyed. She doubled the pillow and placed it beneath my ass.
"Relax," she said.
I tried.
She retrieved her weapons and positioned herself between my legs. She switched on the vibrator and put its tip at the base of my scrotum and moved it slowly upward. The sensations made my cock jump and wobble uncontrollably. After a few minutes, she moved it to the base of my cock and held it there. She lowered her head then, and I could feel her warm, wet tongue licking my ass and poking at my hole. Moaning sounds were coming from deep within her as she continued to lubricate my asshole with her warm saliva.
I jerked my hips upward and tightened my ass muscles when she attempted to insert the first wooden bead.
She raised her head and stared at me with those bewitching eyes.
"Relax, John," she commanded softly, compassionately, sensually. "Your Mistress wants you to feel pleasure, not pain."
"Oh God," was all I could manage to moan.
She lowered her head again. I loosened my muscles as best I could, and felt the first of ten beads being pushed gently into my ass by this wildly erotic animal that held me captive.
"Oooooooh GOD!" I moaned....and with each of the ten beads she inserted, I moaned the same phrase.
"How do you feel?" she asked when she had completed her task.
"Full," I said, "it feels so, so strange." I was breathing heavily.
"Don't worry, John. Just relax your muscles, you'll enjoy it so much more."
With all the effort I could manage, I concentrated on relaxing. As I became more and more relaxed, that strange feeling left me, and I felt less full. The sensation actually became pleasant.
"Yes, John. That's much better," she purred soothingly.
She put the buzzing vibrator back on my scrotum and rotated it in tiny circles. Her other hand grasped my throbbing shaft and held it steady. Then she lowered her head and probed the tiny opening in the head of my cock with her hot tongue. Indescribable sensations shot down the length of my tortured cock and raced through my body like an avalanche!
"I'm going to make you cum in my mouth," she said, moving her head away from my eager cock. "But I promise you one thing, you'll experience ecstasy you never thought possible before you do!"
I had already experienced ecstasy of the magnitude she described, and she hadn't really done anything to me, yet. All of her, her body, her eyes, her voice, her taunting and teasing were driving me insane with passion. I wanted to deposit a hot load of liquid deep within her luscious body, and I didn't care where!
My hips jerked spasmodically when I felt the hot wetness of her mouth close around the head of my cock .... she was still working the vibrator in tight circles on my scrotum, her other hand rhythmically squeezing my shaft. Her tongue began moving back and forth across the opening in my cock .... slowly at first, then faster and faster. In a desperate effort to get more of myself inside her, I pushed upward. She immediately stopped all activity and sat upright, staring at me with her hypnotic eyes .... my steel-hard cock was left bobbing in the air like a drunken sailor, the skin on its head hot, purple, and tight in anticipation.
"Oooooh GOD! Kate, Mistress .... please, don't torture me this way. I don't know how much longer I can stand it!" My head tossed from side to side as I spoke. The pressure of the hot fluids trapped inside my body was becoming painful. I felt if I didn't cum soon, I would explode, flooding the insides of my own body with juices.
"Don't?" She asked with authority. "Did my slave actually say 'don't' to me?" She laughed a wicked little laugh, "Dear slave, you don't understand, do you? You are MY slave, I AM your Mistress. I will decide what I will and will not do, not you. Your only purpose for being tonight is to make me happy. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes, Kate," I said sheepishly, "I will do as you say, it's just that you're driving me crazy .... I can't help it, I just want to feel all of me deep inside you."
"Let me hear you beg for it, slave," she said tauntingly, eyes flashing, then she licked the underside of my throbbing shaft from base to tip.
"OH GOD!" I moaned, my body jerking in response to her tongue. "You are the perfect Mistress." I was gasping for breath, barely getting the words out. "You are fair in your punishment and compassionate in your judgment.""Please, Mistress, I beg of you, have compassion for this unworthy servant. I exist only to give you pleasure. Ummm, please, allow my fevered and eager cock to explore the depths of your throat. Oh God, Kate, allow this pitiful slave to provide you with a warm drink of sweet juices to soothe your burning throat. Please, Kate, I only want to please you."
"Oooooh, slave!" She purred, her eyes softening with compassion and just a hint of eagerness. "You have begged so eloquently, how can I possibly refuse? Besides, I am anxious to taste your cum again. I have decided to grant your request."
She put the vibrator back on my scrotum and quickly slid her hot mouth down the full length of my tormented cock, enclosing it in a moist, velvety sheath that clung to the contours of my shaft and head like a glove.
"Aaaaagggghhhh!" I moaned as the head of my pulsing tube came to rest at the back of her throat, her soft lips applying scintillating pressure on the base of my shaft, her silken tongue moving back and forth on the underside of my cock. Her tongue was picking up and transmitting the tingling vibration from the machine pressing against my balls.
"OH MY GOD! I CAN'T STAND IT... IT FEELS SOOOOO WONDERFUL!" I was moaning and whimpering now, buried to the hilt in her tight throat. I thought I was going to die!
She began a slow, steady up and down movement with her head, animal sounds of her own mingling with mine. My burning cock slid out to the head then back into that tight sheath to the base of her throat, faster and faster she moved. My head was tossing from side to side, eyes squeezed tightly shut, sparks of sexual fire exploding in my brain and showering my entire body with hot pin pricks of sensual sensation. She continued moving her head up and down, the pleasure she and the vibrator were giving went far past the concept of "normal". So intense was the pleasure, it bordered on the threshold of pain. The mechanism in my body that triggers orgasm was frozen solid. I was lost in a galaxy of pleasure and pain, without orgasm there could be no way out!
I can't be sure how long she kept it up. But, if she kept doing what she was doing I knew the exhilarating intensity of sensation would never let me cum. She must have read my mind or my cock or both because she slowed her pace and began working her magic mouth on the head only, her free hand gripping my shaft and jacking me off in perfect time with her mouth.
As suddenly as she had shifted technique, a whole different wave of sensations rolled in and crashed over my tingling body. The first warnings of a 10.2 earthquake began rocking my body, it's epicenter at my throbbing cock.
The major quake shot throughout my body. Stream after stream of hot cum rocketed into her hungry mouth.
"OOOOOOH SHIIIIIT!" I screamed, thrusting my hips off the pillow. She took all of the first load, moaning and making animal sounds. Then she grabbed the string sticking out of my ass and pulled the first wooden bead across my prostate.
"OH! OH! OOOOOH MY GOD!" I was screaming in surprise as an aftershock coursed through my cock producing a second orgasm and a second flood of hot liquid. She captured it in her mouth and gulped it down. Another pull on the string, another aftershock, another orgasm, more cum than I ever thought I was capable of producing. My eyes were wide open, not seeing, my body arched off the pillow, frozen like a statue, my mouth wide and working, no sound coming out.
Still another bead exploding my insides with sensation, draining me of fluid and still her mouth worked feverishly on my erupting cock, sucking out the creamy liquid, tongue swirling, urging me to produce more!
I came 11 times in the space of two minutes. It seemed like an eternity, each bead worked its magic on my prostate, each pass producing an intense, cum gushing orgasm! After the last orgasm my body remained frozen in that arched position, the head of my drained cock still trapped in her mouth, still pulsating with frequent, non-orgasmic aftershocks. She slowly inserted the vibrator in my ass, my entire body began to shudder and collapsed on the bed, quivering and shaking out of control. I was gasping for breath, trying to gain control of my body. "Oh fuck it!" I thought and gave myself to the sensations controlling me.
"Oooooh, slave! You have given me a wonderful treat. My thirst is quenched! But my pussy and my ass need a drink, too!"
"Noooooo..." I protested weakly. My mind was telling me my body was exhausted, drained, used up.
"Yessss," she purred, "but not until you've rested." She took a washcloth from her bag and held it under cold water from the sink. She wrung it out and, lifting my limp cock delicately with her fingers, placed the cool, damp cloth on my feverish balls. Then she released my cock and pulled the remainder of the cloth over it.
"Aaaaahhh," I sighed, my breathing beginning to return to normal, "that feels wonderful."
She reached back into her goody bag and pulled out a banana. Sitting beside me on the bunk, she peeled it slowly. Everything she did had an air of sensuality. She tossed the peel in the corner and held the fruit up delicately in front of my face.
"We must have nourishment," she said and moved the end of the banana toward her parted lips. She licked it from mid-way to the tip and let the end slip slowly into her mouth. In the deepest, most remote places of my being, I felt a weak sexual stirring begin.
"Ummmmm," she sighed, biting off the tip of the fruit. I watched in fascination as she chewed and then swallowed it. "It's good, slave, but not as delicious as you!" She laid the banana on my chest and took her panties off, teasingly, sensu-ally. The sight of her full, beautiful bush made my heart skip a beat. I couldn't take my eyes away from it.
"You like my pussy, slave?" She asked tauntingly. She spread her legs, and her pink and inviting clit lay nestled in her flesh like a precious cultured pearl. Further down, the entrance to paradise lay invitingly open.
"Would you like to fuck me, slave?" Her eyes were sparkling again, and she began slowly rotating her hips, teasing me with her waiting pink flesh. "Would you like to put your cock deep in my hot, wet pussy, slave?"
"OH GOD YES!" My eyes were wide, my throat dry, the sexual stirring I felt moments before becoming a tornado of destructive passion and yearning. I felt my balls moving inside my sack, and my limp meat was beginning to stiffen again.
"Perhaps... perhaps not!" She laughed deep in her throat, fanning the fires she had started deep within me.
She turned the banana around and placed the unbitten end against the entrance to paradise. Leaning back slightly, she pushed the fruit slowly into her pussy. I watched in a hypnotic trance as the fruit slid inch by agonizing inch into her moist opening. After pushing it almost all the way in, she withdrew it, then pushed it in again, then withdrew it all the way.
She brought the fruit toward my face, her woman scent mixed with the smell of the banana made my mouth water. I opened my mouth wide in anticipation of this delightful treat. She did not disappoint me. I took a big bite, savoring the mixed flavors. She fed me the rest of the most delicious fruit I'd ever tasted. I knew deep inside I'd never be able to look at a banana again without reliving these moments.
Back in her goodie bag again, she took out a can of whipped cream. Shaking the can, she spread her legs once again and sprayed her entire bush with the fluffy white topping.
"Time for dessert," she purred and put one knee on each side of my head, her cream-soaked pussy hovering above my mouth. "Bon appétit," she said and lowered that savory treat to my mouth.
She didn't have to tell me what to do next. Starting at the entrance to paradise, I licked the cream from her treasures. She rocked her hips back and forth to help me, breathing heavily, moaning and sighing. I licked and slurped and sucked the delicious stuff from between her pussy lips, from the sides of her legs and her bush. Another food I would never look at in quite the same way again! As the sweet treat vanished, I concentrated my efforts on her clit. She pressed harder against my mouth, rocking faster and moaning louder.
"Ummmmm... yes, slave," she sighed, breathing faster. "Eat my pussy, Ooooooh... take my clit in your teeth, that's it... Oh God Yes! Bite it, yes, yes, YEESSSSS... a little harder... Oooooh Yeah... now put your tongue in my hole... Oooooooo Ummmmmmm... yes, slave!" She was rocking faster, moving her sweet wet pussy back and forth, her nipples and rolling them back and forth between her fingers. Her head was thrown back, and she began whimpering and moaning louder. The fire that had begun in my loins was now raging out of control and spread to other parts of my body. My cock had once again become hard as steel.
"Oooooh Oooooh Oooooh Oooooh, slave!" She was beginning to scream in ecstasy. I could feel her thighs quivering against the sides of my head as she moved her pussy ever faster across my tongue. She was grinding that magnificent cunt down into my mouth now. Each time her clit came over my tongue, her thighs jerked, and I tried to capture that elusive bud and suck on it, but nothing would stop the rocking, grinding motion she had begun with her hips.
"YES YES YES YES!" She chanted, rocking still faster. "OOOH GOD! OOOH GOD! OOOOOOOOO YEEEEESSSSS!" She was breathing wildly now, her chest heaving with the labor. Her thighs began jerking uncontrollably. She moved her hands from her breasts to my head.Taking a handful of my hair with each hand, she pulled my face harder into her soaking wet crotch. Suddenly, she stopped rocking, her entire body quivering. She ground her pussy into my face in tiny rotating circles, pulling my face still harder into her crotch with her hands. I captured her throbbing clit and closed my lips around it, applying all the suction I could manage and, at the same time, nibbling and flicking it with my tongue as hard as I could.
The quivering in her body turned to a shudder, and a loud, shrieking scream tore from her throat. Her hips were grinding in small circles hard against my face, forcing her hot, wet pussy even tighter to my hungry mouth.
She was climbing to the peak of an orgasmic mountain, and I was doing all I could to help her reach the top. At the peak of her orgasm, she ceased all movement, except for her clit. I could feel it pulsating in my mouth, and I continued to nibble and run my tongue roughly across its tip. Suddenly, the scream coming from her throat was cut off, and the shuddering in her body became a heaving of all her muscles. Her clit still pulsated and throbbed in climax. She was holding her breath, and her muscles ceased heaving and tensed like those of a predator cat ready to pounce. Still, her clit throbbed and pulsated between my lips, and we were frozen in time like models for a still life artist, with the only movement being her clit and my tongue.
She had reached the peak of the orgasmic mountain and was taking her sweet time, enjoying the sensations at the top. Finally, she began to descend the other side. She finished the scream, her chest began heaving again desperately sucking in life-giving oxygen, her body began shuddering again, and her hips began rocking back and forth wildly. Her clit continued to throb as it swept past my tongue. She was taking a roller coaster ride, and I had to hang on and take the ride with her.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, all her movement began to slow. The closer she got to the base of the mountain, the slower she moved. Sigh after deep, satisfied sigh came out of her, her hips slowed to a halt, and her clit rested directly on my tongue. It was no longer throbbing. I licked it gently, and she began purring like a cat, running her fingers through my hair and soothing the places she had pulled so hard just moments before.
"Ummmmmmmmm," she sighed dreamily. "John, that was wonderful." The masterful tone in her voice had vanished, replaced by the voice of a soft, sensual woman who had set out on an adventure in mountain climbing, had succeeded, and was now relaxing in front of a cozy fire in a snowed-in lodge. "God! Your mouth is fantastic, lover," she purred, then sighed heavily in contentment.
"Unghflnnnfggh," I replied, her pussy still resting sweetly on my mouth.
"Oops, sorry!" She laughed and climbed off my face. She stretched out next to me on the bunk, her body pressing close to mine, her fingers making little curls with the hair on my chest. She was looking dreamily into my eyes, her own eyes soft and feeling. They had lost the sparkle of the Mistress who held me captive and took on the look of the eyes of a captured dove.
She ran her hand down my chest and across my stomach to my cock. She stroked its head gently with her fingers, then gripped it and squeezed lightly, sending shivers through my body. As she squeezed my cock, she moved her face close to mine, her eyes searching mine. She lowered her lips to mine in a long, passionate, deep French kiss, her tongue seeking out mine and playing tag with it. Little moaning sounds came from her throat. "Oh God!" she said, her lips still on mine, speaking directly into my mouth, "I want your hard, beautiful cock in my pussy. I want to feel it fill me. I want it to explode inside of me and flood me with your hot, wonderful cum." She moaned a long, sensual moan into my mouth, and I could feel the vibrations of it on my lips. Her hand began squeezing my cock tighter and moving slowly up and down the shaft. She let it move down my cock to my balls and began massaging them gently, cupping them, scratching the bottom of my sack with her nails, and gently squeezing them. She pressed her mouth tighter against mine and resumed the passionate kiss of seconds before, all the while doing miraculous things to my genitals with her talented fingers.
"Ooooooh," she purred, "Do you want to fuck me, John? Do you want to feel yourself deep inside me?" Her breathing was becoming more rapid, as was my own. "Do you want to feel my pussy squeeze your beautiful cock until you can't stand it anymore? Do you want to feel your hot cum spurt deep inside me? Oh God... PLEASE TELL me the passion of wanting to bury my cock deep inside her."
"Oh God Yes!" She moaned, "SO DO I!" She got the whipped cream can and began shaking it. When it was ready, she put the nozzle at the base of my rigid cock and made a complete circle of the sweet cream from the base of my cock to the top. It looked like I had a hard, whipped cream cock protruding from my body.
"Ooooooh," she sighed, "just looking at that makes my pussy hungry!" She positioned herself over my whipped cream cock, one leg on each side of my hips, facing me. Slowly, she lowered herself until the creamy head of my swollen cock barely touched her pussy lips. She was breathing heavily now, looking down between her legs to position her juicy pussy just right. When the head of my cock was in just the right position, she lowered her hips a little more, forcing the head of my cock between the hungry, waiting lips of her unbelievably hot cunt. She locked onto my eyes with her own. I held my breath in anticipation, afraid to move for fear she would revert to the slave Mistress and stop.
"Oooooh God! I've been waiting for this all night!" She moaned, still suspended above me, just the head of my cock inside her. I wanted to scream and thrust upward, wanted to shout "ME TOO! SIT DOWN FOR GOD'S SAKE! COVER MY COCK WITH YOUR HOT PUSSY!" But I didn't. I just held my breath, hoping she would slide down my waiting pole.
I didn't have to wait too long. Very slowly, she allowed my cock to slip into her hot, hungry pussy. I wanted to thrust, I wanted to scream, I WANTED TO BURY IT TO THE HILT! The whipped cream was beginning to melt from the heat of our bodies. I could feel it sliding down my cock, over my balls and into the crack of my ass. It was exciting, using the whipped cream for a lubricant, not that her pussy needed lubricating, it was soaking wet all on its own. Still, the thought was erotic and more than just a little stimulating.
My cock was about a fourth of the way in. She was squirming and panting and whimpering. Her thighs were beginning to shake from the strain of lowering herself so slowly and from anticipation.
"Ummmmmm... God that feels great!" She purred, still moving slowly down my rigid cock. One third the way in now, we were both moaning and panting. Half way in, she began to chant "Ooooh Baby! Ooooh Baby! Ooooh Baby!" Two-thirds of my throbbing cock was now out of sight, concealed within the walls of her tight love tunnel.
I couldn't contain myself any longer. "OH GOD, KATE! PLEASE, BURY MY COCK ALL THE WAY! I CAN'T STAND IT... OOOOHHHH MY GOD!"
Apparently, she couldn't stand it any longer either. Without warning, she slammed her hips down, burying my cock completely inside her.
"OH!" She squealed with delight, "Ummmmmmmm, that's wonderful." She purred, sitting absolutely still, my cock completely and totally buried inside her.
At the moment she sat down on my cock, the breath escaped my lungs, and I shouted, "HOLY SHIT! OOOOH GOD YESSSS!"
Still motionless on top of me, she began rhythmically contracting and relaxing the muscles inside her hungry pussy. Each time she contracted those wonderful muscles, squeezing my cock, I would tighten my sphincter and expand the head of my cock to its fullest size. We played expand and contract for what seemed like hours, our eyes locked on one another, just feeling the sensations and being one with each other.
"Oooohhh slave," she whispered sexily, "you have a very talented cock. Does it like being in my pussy?"
"Yes, yes, Mistress! It wants to please you and fill you with its hot load of white liquid."
"My pussy can hardly wait!" She sighed and began rocking back and forth with her hips. The motion bent my rigid pole back and forth, moving it only slightly inside her. Her head was back, and she cupped her breasts with her hands, squeezing them as she continued to rock back and forth on my burning cock.
After a while, she leaned forward, pressing her breasts against my hairy and heaving chest. Her lips found mine, and we kissed passionately. I longed for my hands to be free so I could fondle her breasts and grab her ass cheeks. While she lay on my chest, I began a slow thrusting motion with my hips, driving my cock slowly in and out of the hot, velvety tunnel that held it prisoner. She began moaning softly into my mouth, and I into hers, our tongues still locked in a battle for dominance.
As I thrust in and out of her hot pussy, she began moving her hips from side to side. Her motion combined with mine caused my thrusting cock to scrape one side lining of her tight love tunnel, then the other. It was a completely new sensation to me, and it was bringing me to the base of my own orgasmic mountain!
"Ahhhh yes, fuck me baby!" She moaned into my mouth. "Ram that hard cock into me... deeper, Oooooh yes, that's it... it feels so wonderful I want you to push it all the way through me!"
The way she moaned those words of passion directly into my mouth was helping me, pushing me, to the first ledge of my mountain. The silky wet walls of her pussy were working wonders on the sensitive head of my pulsing cock!
"God, baby, you're sooo good!"So tight, so hot, so wet!" I breathed the words into her mouth.
She put her hands on my chest and pushed herself to an upright position and, using the muscles in her legs, began lifting herself up and down on my rigid cock. Faster and faster she went, like a novice rider on a galloping horse. With each bounce, my throbbing [member] whimpered, and I sighed "OH GOD! OH GOD!" Faster and faster she bounced, tossing her head from side to side, beginning a low-volume chant of "FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUCK ME!" That became louder the faster she moved.
She was moving at a furious pace now, with each downward plunge she made, little bits of whipped cream splashed out from between us, covering my chest and her inner thighs.
"OOOOOHHHH GOD YES!" She screamed, reaching a quick and violent orgasm that made her body shudder. As she came, I began thrusting my hips upward and letting them fall, then up again, lifting her weight, helping her fuck herself into oblivion. "CUM CUM CUM .... YES YES YES .... OOOH OOOH OOOH" she was screaming as orgasmic sensations raced through her body.
When her orgasm subsided, she slowed her pace until she came to a stop, sitting on my still rock-hard cock. My hips were squirming beneath her in passion, my own moaning and whimpering becoming louder .... "Ohhhhh noooo, please, don't stop now ..... Oh God ...."
"Don't worry, lover, we're not through yet," she purred. Then she stretched her legs out in front of her and rotated her body so her back was to my face. Never once coming close to losing the cock buried deep in her hot pussy. The sensation of her turning sent a chill through my entire body!
She reached down between my legs and began raking her fingernails along the underside of my balls. "OOOOOHHHH SHIIIIT!" I cried out in total surprise at both what she was doing and the sensations it caused. Her knees under her once again, she began that slow up and down movement with her body. Every few strokes, she would pause with my cock almost all the way out, then move her hips from side to side and slowly slide back down over my hard and hot cock, all the while scratching and squeezing and massaging my balls gently, seductively. My breathing became more rapid as I quickly approached the second ledge on my orgasmic mountain! I felt lost on that mountain and was thankful to have a guide like her showing me the way to the top!
"Yes baby, fill me with that hot cock of yours!" She moaned, "I love it deep inside me .... Ooooh yes, it fills me up soooo much .... I want your cum to wash every bit of my pussy .... I want to feel it splashing hot against my walls .... I want to hear you moan as your cum gushes out of your hot cock and floods deep into me .... Ummmmmm!" Her words were making my cock even harder than it was .... I didn't know how that could be possible, but it was happening. That feeling I get when I know I'm going to last a long time. For the time being, I was lost in the sensual, tingling feelings her hot pussy was imparting to my cock.
She worked her body feverishly on my erect pole, speeding up her pace, then slowing down .... shifting positions slightly, each time bringing me to new heights of ecstasy .... and all the while stroking, scratching and squeezing my balls. In the next half hour, she came twice, each more powerful than the one before. With each orgasm, her fingernails dug into the flesh of my thighs and her screams of passion pierced the very essence of my soul. Tiny beads of sweat had broken out on her body, and her breathing was becoming labored. Still, she continued, working her wet pussy all over my throbbing hot cock.
As she was approaching her fourth orgasm, her buildup to it was so raw, so animalistic that my balls began to tingle wildly. The first warning that I was approaching the peak of my mountain. She pumped so hard and so fast, and squeezed my cock with her pussy so tightly, I began to go insane with passion. With each foot of height I gained on my upward climb, she matched me in intensity and abandonment. We both began grunting and moaning, pounding our genitals together mercilessly. My legs began to go numb as the tingling spread throughout my body. I could feel my balls swell slightly prior to releasing their heavy load.
At that instant, I thought it would be impossible for either of us to get any more wild than we were .... I was wrong! As we approached orgasm, her hand pulled my ball sack gently, the other drew blood from my thigh. We were both screaming between labored breaths .... our bodies writhing wildly, trying to tear one another apart with pure animal lust.
As my heavy balls exploded their load through my seminal vesicles, I thrust upward with all my strength, burying my spurting cock deeper into her greedy pussy than it had ever been. She screamed in a mixture of pain and pleasure and ground her hips downward, impaling her pulsating pussy even further on my exploding cock.
It's hard to describe the sounds, the sensations, the movements of our bodies and the punishment we inflicted on one another during our simultaneous orgasm. I only know her screams of passion were equal to my own, the intensity of her orgasm matched by mine, and the pure animal lust that flooded over us was shared equally. I don't know how long we were lost in the throes of orgasmic ecstasy .... it just seemed to go on and on .... I felt as if every ounce of fluid was being sucked from my entire body by her gripping, hungry pussy. My balls were so drained they began to ache, and still our bodies were tangled and thrusting in an animalistic frenzy, each attempting to best the other. I wanted to be lost in this wild abandon forever .... to be washed away in a flood.
I'm not sure quite how it ended. All I remember is our bodies collapsing in an exhausted heap. My cock was still deep within her, but there was no feeling, no sensation. Her fabulous pussy had literally stripped the nerve endings from my body and devoured them.
There was more deliriously sensual sex between us that night. We came again and again .... she used the beads on me twice more that I can remember .... it could have been more. I never dreamed I could cum so many times in such a short span of time, but her body and imagination did things to me that had never been done to me before.
I remember at about three in the morning, she released me from my bonds. We experimented with every imaginable position .... before we were finished, my cock had explored every possible opening in her body and deposited its creamy cargo within them all.
At six o'clock, a travel alarm in her goody bag went off. At the time, we lay exhausted in one another's arms, caressing and frenching deeply, passionately.
"Oh damn," she muttered at the sound of the alarm and got up to turn it off. "Well, John, slave, lover. Your sentence has been carried out, and I hereby set you free."
We dressed in silence. She in her uniform, me in my jeans and sweatshirt. I didn't want this wild sexual animal to walk out of my life, but I didn't know what to say.
"Would you like to come home with me? I'll make you a great breakfast," she must have read my mind.
"I'd love to, Kate," I said softly.
She took me to my car, and I followed her home. As she put her key in the front door, it swung open, a stunning brunette standing in the doorway.
"John," Kate said, "I'd like you to meet my roommate Kimberly."
"Hi, Kimberly," I said, my hand on Kate's ass.
"Oooooh Hi John," she purred, her deep green eyes sparkling with sexual energy. Kate gave me a seductive little wink, a huge smile on her face. | 4 |
6,309 | Libertine Repost: Pussy Babrber's Love Fuck | "This is perverted," Kristen thought to herself as she crept down the hallway, moving closer to the soft moans coming from the guest bedroom. It was almost three in the morning, and Kristen, clad in her flimsy powder blue nightie, kept fighting the urge to peek. Images of being caught peeking flashed into her mind, the outrage of her friends, the embarrassment of it. But other images flashed too - of passionate, wriggling bodies, of glistening skin, a hard cock, swaying testicles, sensual legs spread wide and spasming. Kristen quietly opened the bathroom door, the one that connected into the spare room. Just as she had hoped, the door to the bedroom was open. In the darkness, she crept silently forward, until she could see the bed and the writhing bodies upon it.
The soft creak of the bed could be heard now, and in the dim light of the room, she could see Jerry kneeling behind his girlfriend, Janet, who was also Kristen's friend. Jerry had a handful of Janet's hair, from behind, and his body was pressed firmly to hers. Her head was arched back, and her luscious ass was arched up against her man. The dimness of the light reduced the image to black and white, Janet's ass looking smooth, round, and unblemished. The covers were a heaped mess on the floor at the foot of the bed, and Janet was threatening to shred the sheets with her grip. Kristen felt a knot in her stomach, one that twisted all the way down between her legs.
Jerry moved in slow, even strokes, arching his back and thrusting into Janet with a long, even movement. Each thrust brought a primal growl from deep inside Kristen's friend, and her hips moved back instinctively, forcing Jerry's shaft deep inside her.
"God! You're so fuckin' tight!" Jerry whispered, his words carrying easily to Kristen's ears in the nearby bathroom. Janet half moaned, half sighed her response. Janet pushed her upper body up on her hands, her full breasts swaying underneath her.
"Fuck me hard. Pump me hard and fast. Cum in me," Janet breathed.
Kristen's nipples were already hard, excited by what she'd seen and heard so far. Now they ached to be touched, and Kristen's right hand found her nipple, teasing it. She watched as Jerry began thrusting faster into Janet, their bodies making an audible "smack," Janet's breasts bouncing, and the flesh of her ass rippling. Kristen felt her panties clinging to her crotch, moistened with her own juices.
"Yes! Fuck my ass. Pump your cum in my asshole, stud," Janet hissed.
Kristen heard the words and let out a deep sigh, a sigh of lustful arousal. Her left hand replaced her right on her nipples, and her right hand slid under her panties and between her legs. Kristen knew she was wet, and she slipped one finger deep into herself, rubbing her clit frantically.
The two bodies undulated and writhed about, glistening even in the darkness of the room. Janet's long dark hair flailed about as her body heaved and bucked to Jerry's rhythm. It wasn't long before Jerry groaned and began thrusting hard against Janet, trying to drive his cock and maybe even his balls inside her. Their groans filled the air for a few long moments, and then fell silent.
In the sudden silence, Kristen stopped cold. Her own heavy breathing was covered by theirs, as was the wet, squishing sounds her fingers had been making in her pussy. She slowly caressed herself and watched the two lovers lay on the bed, him on top of her from behind, both kissing and floating along together. Kristen finally realized the show was over, and she crept back to her bed, still excited by what she'd witnessed. Her own sleep came only after fantasizing about feeling Jerry coming in her ass, not Janet's.
The next morning, Janet was in the kitchen first, having made coffee and preparing to make breakfast for the three of them. Kristen shuffled in wearing her light robe, shaking out her long golden hair.
"Well! Good morning!" Janet said cheerfully, handing over a hot cup.
"'Morning," Kristen said blearily. "Thanks."
"Well, you look dreadful. At least I have an excuse," Janet joked.
"Ummm. I know," Kristen said automatically, then regretted it.
"Oh. I'm sorry, did we wake you?" Janet asked.
"Yeah, it's okay though," Kristen said. "It's better than David Letterman."
Janet laughed. "ANYTHING is better than David Letterman. Especially a..." Her voice trailed off.
"A good ass fucking?" Kristen asked. "Oh, shit. I shouldn't have said that," she argued, "I'm cranky before my first cup."
Janet had blushed, even through her early summer tan. "Well, Jerry does have the right equipment for that," she giggled.
Kristen smiled. "I've gotta take a shower," she said, walking down the hallway.
Before entering the shower, Kristen surveyed herself in the mirror. What she saw pleased her mostly. Fair skin but with a few too many freckles (never mind that her boyfriends told her they were sexy), a pair of slightly bloodshot blue eyes, even though there were some circles forming under them, a very attractive face, but her nose was too big she thought, but no one ever complained. Her best features, the ones she knew would always get the guys to look, still pleased her. Her hair was straight, and long, stopping just below her waist, like a golden-blonde waterfall. And her eyebrows, which matched her hair exactly. Many men had asked her if her "other" hair was so perfectly matched. If he was that bold, she invited him to see for himself that it was.
Her breasts weren't as large as she wanted, but they were well proportioned to her body. Her waist was slender still, and she was trim, but she always criticized any flab on her butt or thighs, even though most men would have killed to kiss her naked form. At five foot seven, she was leggy, but still nicely put together.
Kristen stepped into the shower and soaped up, thinking of Janet and Jerry's performance earlier. She didn't masturbate, she never could in the shower, but she did feel much better after she'd cleaned up and put on what little makeup she usually wore. She brushed out her long hair, still wet, and used the blow dryer for about ten minutes. It was still damp when she stopped to answer the knock on the bathroom door.
Jerry stood in the hallway wearing jogging shorts and trying to keep an erection down. Kristen wore her robe but was obviously naked underneath. Kristen smiled and let Jerry into the bathroom, while she returned to the kitchen and the smell of bacon and eggs.
Janet's t-shirt was outside of her shorts now, something Kristen noticed quickly. "I see Jerry's said good morning to you," she said. Janet glanced down at her top, then looked over at Kristen, grinning. "Yeah. The animal!" She added with a wink.
They ate breakfast when Jerry returned, and afterwards, Janet braided Kristen's long blonde hair. She took her shower with Jerry, and Kristen tried to ignore the sounds of splashing fun in the bathroom.Janet and Jerry went out to visit the casinos on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe, while Kristen contented herself with sunning on the deck and reading a new book by her favorite writer. This vacation started out wrong, with Mike cancelling out at the last minute, leaving Kristen feeling alone and like a party crasher. But then, she didn't gamble and besides, she wasn't old enough anyway. Kristen worked on her tan, hoping that her freckles would blend into a semblance of a tan at least.
It was pretty and quiet in the mountains, but still warm. Kristen only stayed in the sun for a short while before moving into the shade. She read for about an hour and a half, then dozed off.
Kristen awoke, stretching like a cat, and then stood up. The light coating of sunscreen still glistened on her skin and felt slippery since she'd perspired during her nap. She picked up her towel and turned to enter the rented cabin when she saw Janet and Jerry inside.
Kristen watched through the large glass doors, her eyes wide, blinking in amazement or sleepiness. Janet lay on her back on the sofa, her ass at the edge of the cushions. She was naked with her legs high in the air, and Jerry was crouching between her legs, rolling his face around in her cunt. Janet was shaking and rocking her hips, obviously enjoying his tongue. Kristen wondered what to do as she watched. Somehow they'd come back while she'd dozed off, and hadn't seen her on the deck. Jerry made Janet come in a gasping orgasm which made Kristen very wet, and she wanted to finger her pussy, but she didn't dare. She didn't want them to catch her masturbating while she watched them.
The two lovers swapped places, and now Janet was sucking on Jerry's cock. In the daylight Kristen could see that Jerry's cock was just about right for fucking, in any hole. Not too big, not too short, just nice. Janet sucked him with practiced expertise. Janet's body was smooth and evenly tan, except for the small light areas that showed the tiny suit she normally wore. Kristen felt her feet moving, and she felt as though someone else was controlling them.
As she moved, it came to her that she was going to walk in on them, and she prepared an "excuse". If they objected or were embarrassed, she would simply go to her room, then shower off from her sunbathing. If they didn't object then...well, she'd see.
Kristen took a deep breath and opened the door, walking in and closing it carelessly behind her. Just as she entered, Janet looked up, and Jerry began to shoot. Both young women locked eyes for a moment, then Kristen's were drawn to the thick white cum spurting against Janet's neck and tits. Janet looked down, paused, then gulped down Jerry's spurting cock, making him cry out with loud "ahhh's".
Kristen decided to go to her room, as if she'd interrupted completely by accident. As she walked she could feel the slipperiness of her own pussy and the stiffness of her nipples.
"Nice timing!" Janet said loudly as Kristen turned the corner. She stopped and turned back, looking back at Janet, her tits glistening wetly. "Sor-reee!" Kristen said, grinning. "I thought you guys were going out all day."
Janet stood and walked closer, her sperm-splotched breasts wobbling as she walked. Kristen couldn't take her eyes off the cum that dribbled down between them, or the cum that clung to one of her dark nipples.
"Surrre." Janet said softly. "Come with me, I have something to show you."
Kristen followed Janet into the bedroom and Janet opened a small paper bag. From the bag she pulled a thick vibrating dildo, covered in a soft, flesh-like latex. "Watch this," she said, then switched it on. The head vibrated and as she worked the controls, the upper third began to twirl or rotate and piston in and out. Kristen's eyes got big.
"Where did you get THAT!?" Kristen laughed.
"At a little novelty store in town," Janet giggled. "And this too!" She handed Kristen the vibrator and Kristen felt it buzzing, twisting and thrusting in her hands. It sent an erotic feeling deep inside her pussy. Janet pulled another item from the bag. This dildo looked like a "Y", with two cocks joined at the base. Kristen knew how this was meant to be used.
"Look at this though!" Janet said, connected a rubber ball and tube to the dildo. She set it humming and the tips of both heads blurred, then she squeezed the ball. Water jetted out of both tips, squirting several feet. Kristen's pussy spasmed at the sight. "Think of the possibilities with this!"
"Um, yeah. Nice!" Kristen said. "Er, I'm going to take a shower. Maybe even a cold one."
Janet handed her the thrusting dildo. "Here, have fun."
Kristen refused it, as much as she would have tried it in privacy, she didn't want to seem too desperate or horny. She went into her room and couldn't resist the urge to finger her pussy. Kristen lay on the bed, her fingers blurring over her clit. She came quickly, thinking of the images of Jerry's cock spurting all over Janet's tits. A few minutes later Kristen pulled on a robe and picked up some clothes, then went into the bathroom for a quick shower. She was just about to climb into the shower when Janet knocked on the door, asking to be let in quickly. Kristen opened the door for her.
"Shit!" Janet said, "I got it in my eye and it BURNS!"
Kristen got a look at her face as she moved past to get to the sink. There were thick globs of sperm on her cheek and in her hair. Jerry had cum again, but somehow Janet had gotten some of the salty stuff in her right eye. After a minute of splashing water she stood up and toweled her face off, most of Jerry's cum having been washed off.
"That'll teach you to watch too close!" Kristen laughed.
"Thanks a bunch," Janet said. "Would you mind if I showered with you?" she asked, feeling the cum in her hair.
"No, c'mon. You do my back, I'll do yours," Kristen said.
Together they showered, trading secrets and laughing over Kristen's unannounced entry earlier. Kristen's hair was pinned up so she didn't have to dry it all over again, and Janet scrubbed her back. The oily sunscreen needed to be scrubbed off, and Janet didn't stop when she reached Kristen's ass. She worked down, not sexually touching, but scrubbing hard. She kept going down those long, lean legs, until she reached the ankles.
"Thanks," Kristen said. "That felt good." She turned around, hand extended for the washcloth. Instead, Janet soaped it up and began scrubbing Kristen's chest, above and between her breasts.
"Jerry would kill to do this to you, you know," Janet said evenly. "He said that last night he fantasized about you joining us."
"Really?" Kristen said, forgetting that Janet was washing her front. "He really said that?"
Janet nodded, scrubbing around Kristen's tits and then down her belly. "He even said he'd like to eat you while he fucks me."
Kristen's mind imagined that, and she felt a little excited. Suddenly Janet's hand was sliding over her mons, and then between her legs. The touch was lighter, more sensual now. Kristen's legs parted slightly, and her lips parted to take a sharp breath. Janet's hand lingered a little longer, then she began scrubbing the fronts of the blonde's legs. Kristen looked down, watching Janet kneel and scrub. Her hand moved and touched Janet's head lightly.
Janet leaned forward and kissed Kristen's pussy lightly, then she stood up. Close. Kristen seemed to move on automatic. She leaned forward, tilting her head slightly, and then it happened. Their lips met in a kiss. Kristen was surprised at how warm and soft Janet's lips were. Their breasts touched lightly, making Kristen's nipples stand up even harder. When they parted, Kristen gazed into the eyes of her friend, now to be her newest lover.
Trembling with excitement Kristen reached out and touched Janet's breast. This was the first time she'd ever touched another woman's breast sexually. The soft flesh was so warm, and Janet's full orb drew Kristen's hand into a cup shape which she slid over the end of her friend's breast.
Janet's hands slid down and cupped Kristen's ass, kneading it slightly. Kristen's whole body trembled, as though she were going to have an all-over orgasm. Somehow Janet realized her friend's nervous excitement and she leaned down, taking one of Kristen's nipples in her lips. As she sucked on it, biting down delicately, Kristen gasped and pressed her soft tit into Janet's face. Janet pulled on the other nipple with her fingers, then gently licked all around Kristen's puffy areola. The tall blonde's breathing was shallow and ragged, and Kristen could feel her cunt leaking its warm cream down her thigh. Janet stood upright and Kristen felt like she was on fire. She grabbed Janet's face and kissed her, one of the most passionate kisses she'd ever given. Janet returned it, with her hands exploring the lean, smooth texture of her friend's body.
When their kiss broke, Kristen burned with a madness, a desire, a carnal need. She bent and licked around Janet's nipple, then sucked hard on the erect bud. Janet cradled the blonde's head to her breast, and felt Kristen suckling and licking her tit. Kristen's right hand slid between Janet's legs, lightly at first.Kristen's pussy spasmed when her fingers found Janet's cunt soaking wet and slippery. Her fingers slid back and forth through her friend's cuntlips, then Kristen sighed as her finger slid into her friend's body. Janet sighed too, rocking her hips forward and trembling against Kristen.
A few moments later, Kristen stood with her hands on the wall of the shower, legs spread, and Janet sitting on the floor, her head bent back and her tongue, her wonderful tongue, swirling around inside her. Janet was sucking her pussy, lapping her free-flowing juices and sliding her hands up and down Kristen's legs. Kristen gasped for breath, her stomach heaved in and out and her legs threatened to buckle. Janet sucked and licked, and Kristen shuddered. A wave washed over her, starting in her cunt and spreading outward, returning to her twat as a flood of thick creamy juice to be lapped up by Janet.
Kristen sat down on a ledge in the shower, weak and flushed. Janet rolled to her knees and kissed the blonde's tits, then kissed Kristen on the mouth. Kristen tasted her juices, not for the first time but certainly the most erotic. Janet's lips were slick and their tongues danced. Moments later, when Janet stood up, Kristen took the floor and tongued Janet's pussy. Kristen looked at Janet's pussy, seeing the swollen lips surrounded by her curly bush. Her tongue licked lightly over Janet's slit, finding her clit at the top, all swollen and hard. Janet's hips jerked, and Kristen continued to lick circles around it. Soon Kristen's chin was slick with the juices seeping from Janet's opening, and her tongue was sliding all around. Kristen loved the feeling on her tongue, and her face. The smooth, warm, slippery wetness excited her, and the musky scent of Janet filled her nostrils.
"Put your fingers in me," Janet said breathlessly.
Kristen did. First one finger, then two, then a third. Janet's hips bucked and Kristen flicked her tongue over the girl's clit. She felt the spasms around her fingers, the grasping, pulsing squeezes as Janet began to cum. Kristen shoved her fingers in deep, moving her hand back and forth until Janet moaned loudly and began shuddering. Janet's hips ground against the intruding fingers, and her hand pushed Kristen's face tightly against her mons. When Kristen pulled her fingers out, they glistened with Janet's cream, a few whitish globs clinging to her fingers. Kristen licked her fingers off, savoring it like a fine sauce.
They finished their shower, hugging and kissing each other tenderly. They had shared something very special, and they both felt close and loving to each other. After eight years of friendship, they had become even closer. | 4 |
6,403 | Alone in Berlin | "Hello?"
"Chris? It's Meg, Meg Kruger," I felt my heart beat quickly as I waited for the voice on the other end of the line to respond.
"Meg? Hi... Where are you?"
I let out a rush of air, I could hear myself talking too quickly. "I'm in Berlin, I fly out tomorrow... early... I'm at the Hotel Ibis," I heard myself laugh, but it sounded forced. "Hotel Ee-bis here, not eye-bis."
"Oh... I hope it's not in the combat zone..."
"No, but it's a little funky here, lots of immigrants and young intellectuals," The words poured out, was I making sense? "It's a little rough around the edges, one building will be beautifully restored and the others dingy and covered in graffiti. On street level you see tacky, crowded storefronts; it reminds me of parts of Chicago that way. On the other hand, like Chicago, you can tell real people live here. If you look higher, above the ground floor, there are all these flower boxes on the ledges and... if you look closely, there are lace curtains in all the windows. It's a neat place, really." Stop. Take a breath, I told myself, "But it's weird, walking down a street knowing you're completely alone in a foreign city..."
"That explains the phone call, but I know what you mean..."
Yes, he understood... I fear that he'd think I was a freak for calling him may have been unfounded.
"Yeah... When are you supposed to return to the States?"
"This Saturday, I'll be staying over in Berlin Friday night... I'm surprised you didn't call your boyfriend..."
So was I.
"Time change... He'll be at work, our moods won't match... It's nice to talk to someone who is in the same time zone, you know?"
In more ways than one...
"It's nice just to hear English, at least you know some German..."
He was making conversation, he wasn't blowing me off, that was a good sign. Maybe he was actually glad I called.
"Yeah, but I'm afraid to use it. If you ask a question in German, they answer in German, that's the problem!"
Chris laughed softly. God, what was I doing? This was crossing so many boundaries...
"You don't mind, do you? Me calling like this?"
"No, I don't mind... Don't have anyone at home to call... Except maybe my dog..."
Yes, Chris had made it clear all week just how single he was.
"You've got that seminar tomorrow, don't you? You need to prepare for that?"
Give him an out, remind him that business comes before pleasure.
"I got that ready yesterday, once I didn't have you and Gordy and Sacha around to distract me..." I could hear the smile in his voice. If voices could be described by colors or textures, my boyfriend Tommy's resonant baritone would be a highly polished bronze, but Chris had a voice that was smoky blue, with a gentle, reedy quality, like a softly played saxophone. It was different than I was used to, and I was surprised that I liked it. I liked it a lot. Over the phone, I couldn't see that blinding grin, I could only hear Chris' relaxed, friendly voice.
"Oh, yeah, we really had to twist your arm..."
"You're a corrupting influence, Meg, admit it."
Yes! He was teasing me, maybe even flirting...
"Yes, I forced you to visit that castle..."
"Yes! The castle, and the tavern, and the disco..."
"Well, isn't that what conferences are about?"
"Apparently the sharing of scientific discoveries within the international community is not a priority with you..."
"During the day, of course it's a priority! After dinner... well... you saw me talking to Korlov at least..."
"He was trying to pick you up! And then you go and have a date with Minowitz..."
"It was not a date! The man's in his sixties at least!"
"Consider yourself lucky, you were able to discuss your work with him. Minovitz wouldn't give me the time of day until I was made permanent staff. Tell me this, did he pay for your drinks?"
"Yes..."
"Then it was a date."
"Argghh!! It would have been rude to refuse. Can I help it if some men like to be gallant around a woman? Would you rather I pretend that I'm 'one of the guys?'"
"It doesn't matter what I prefer, you should do what you feel is right."
"Exactly, and I'm going to behave like a woman, whatever that means. If, as a result, some men won't take my work seriously, oh well. I doubt they would take me seriously if I tried to behave like a man."
"Excellent point, I hadn't thought of that. Although I don't know exactly how we got there."
"Yeah, well, it's a little hard for me to avoid thinking about such things." I realized Chris might get defensive at this, most reasonable men would, "Actually, now that I've worked through it, being true to myself in a male dominated field and all that, I've been feeling a lot more confident, with respect to work."
"I see..."
"I'm rambling aren't I?"
"Well, Meg, I wasn't going to say anything..."
"Yeah, well, now you know... I tend to go off on tangents... It makes me very creative but..."
"But it's something I should keep in mind if I want to hire you."
"Well, Chris, I wasn't going to say anything..."
The voice on the phone laughed again. God, what was I doing? Did he think I'm trying to sleep my way into a job? The truth was, Chris was incredibly sexy, but I needed to get to know him better. He was still so much of a mystery. Chris was handsome, charming, sophisticated... and reserved. He didn't talk much about himself. The fact that he was still single made me wonder if he was gay. On the other hand, he could have just been hurt very badly. Sacha, short for Alexandra, and I speculated about that. Didn't he say his parents were divorced? I definitely got the heterosexual vibe from him. He had a way of approaching me and flirting, then backing off. I never pressed it, I let him take the initiative, until tonight. Why was I doing this? See, I also wanted to work for him. Chris was very well respected in the field, I couldn't go wrong having him as a boss. The smart thing would be to stay cool, keep it professional. If I did end up working for him, or even at the same lab, the romance could happen eventually, if it was meant to be. Otherwise, I could blow my reputation entirely.
"So what does your boyfriend do?"
Shit! Tommy! I was mentally running off with a man I've known for a week. What was happening to me? It was perceptive of him to turn the conversation in that direction.
"He's a network manager, for the electrical engineering department at the university."
"Really? A very portable job, I see..."
"You noticed, huh?"
"I'm well acquainted with the two-body problem, let's just leave it at that."
The two-body problem. Academics live the life of gypsies in the early part of their career, asking spouses to pull up stakes after grad school, the first post-doc, and maybe the second post-doc, before even thinking of settling in as a staff scientist or as a member of a faculty somewhere. Tommy had the type of training that could get him a job anywhere, if the need arose. Not necessarily a reason to start a relationship, but definitely a factor in keeping one alive.
"You and ... Tommy are engaged, right?"
"No..." I knew he was going to ask if Tommy was willing to follow me once my post-doc was up next May.
"But you're living together..."
"Yes..."
"Have you two discussed the future?"
"Not really..."
"Meg..." His voice had that gentle scolding quality, the one you hear when a male friend is about to give you the 'Men are pigs' speech.
"Do you want to marry him?" he asked.
I hesitated. If he had asked me the week before I would have said... Christ, I didn't know what I would have said. That was the question wasn't it?
"I don't know."
"That pretty much answers it, if you don't know."
"No! It's not like that. I just haven't thought about the future, because... because..."
"Because?"
"I wasn't ready to ask him to follow me, and I didn't know how he felt about getting married again after his divorce... and..."
"There's more?"
"I don't know if he's ... the one."
Chris was quiet on the other end of the line. What could he have said, really?
"I guess Tommy and I need to talk some."
"Can I ask one question? If you weren't sure this guy was 'the one,' why did you move in with him?"
"For the obvious reasons, I guess, and I feel comfortable with Tommy. He's like the guys I used to hang out with in high school. Maybe I thought this was as close to 'the one' as I was going to get, I'm still not sure that he isn't. This trip is messing with my head."
Why was I talking like this? What was I trying to accomplish?"It's not doubts, I don't think. It's just that when you're in a relationship, you slip into roles. One's the sensitive one and the other is the rational one, for example. So when I am away from him, I'm forced to be a whole person. I remember what it's like to be independent... It was a nice feeling."
"You can't be a whole person with your boyfriend?"
"I guess I haven't been... I suppose that's asking a lot, huh? To be a whole person and still give yourself to a relationship. This afternoon, I took a walk in this old church yard... well not that old, the cemetery seemed to have its heyday in the 20's and 30's with all these Art Deco monuments and the newest markers are in the 60's. Most of them say, "Hier ruht mein lieber Mann." Here rests my beloved husband. It was quite moving. I guess I want that, too... I want to find the real thing, whatever that is."
Chris laughed, "I'm sorry, but I just realized that I'm getting used to your meanderings. You did get to the point eventually."
I laughed, too, "Why, thank you. I have my moments."
Chris didn't respond, but I heard him move and stretch on the other end of the line.
"I'm sorry, if you have things to do, I can let you go. I've monopolized the conversation with my favorite subject.. me."
I was relieved to hear him chuckle a bit, taking my joke as it was intended, "Well, I do need to visit the bathroom."
"Then I'll let you go."
"Wait, give me your number and I'll call you back in a sec."
"Are you sure?"
"What else do I have to do except watch TV with German dubbing, which I don't understand, or turn to the porn channel and try to decipher the action with a blackout over the middle of the screen... It doesn't cover everything..." Once again I could hear the grin in his voice. He was ready to change the subject... but to what?
"You could just pay, you know..."
"I've never had to pay for it before, I'm not starting now..."
"Oh really?"
Chris paused, "Um, I'll call you back in a sec. Give me your number."
I gave him my number and I put down the receiver. I decided to get into my robe and I brought a pillow over to the desk by the window. The sun had gone down and I watched the city lights. I turned off the lamp in my room so no one could see in while I reclined against the window. I sat for a moment, aware of the feel of the terry cloth against my skin. I wondered if it would be a good idea to slip my hand inside my robe. Instead, I turned on the television while I waited. It was 'X-files' and through the dubbing, Scully just didn't seem right without the inflections Gillian Anderson put in her voice. All of her vulnerability was in her voice.
The phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Meg? It's Chris... Now where were we?"
"Something about paying for it, I think." I slid down on the ledge so that I was lying on my back. The lower half of my robe fell open and I felt goosebumps rise on my thigh where it touched the cold window.
"Yeah... Well, I meant before that."
"Well, we pretty much established that I don't know what to do about Tommy, thank you very much."
"What did I do?"
"Fine, go ahead and feign innocence. See if I care... No really, I'm just going to have to think about that, I guess I've been putting it off. It's never been easy for me to decide what I want." My hand rested on my covered belly. As long as I didn't tell him, and I could still enjoy his smoky voice, what was harm if I...
"Maybe we should talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"Something lighter I suppose, this has been a rather intense conversation. Any suggestions?"
I slipped my hand under the robe, exposing one breast to the conflicting sensations of the chill air and my warm hand. "We could talk about the weather... or talk shop..."
"Okay, we'll talk about the weather. What does it look like in Berlin?"
I looked out the window, starting to roll the nipple between my fingers. I wanted to gasp a little, but with effort, I kept my breathing steady. "It's dark, with scattered bits of light."
"You can see the stars?"
"No, just the city lights." I pinched the tightening flesh and the muscles between my legs twinged, I began squeezing them in rhythm with my fingers. I had to be careful to continue breathing naturally. "It looks much better at night. Right outside my window I can see this god-awful tower with this globe thing impaled on it. I think it's some sort of landmark, but there's all these radio and microwave things on it that it spoils whatever charm it may have had."
"Thingy, dazzling me with those highly technical terms, huh?"
"Bite me, Chris."
It was out before I could take it back. My voice was tight, and I heard myself say this more as an urgent plea than as a curse. I could only hope he would ignore it. He didn't answer right away.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you."
I abruptly ceased my surreptitious explorations. "Maybe... among other things... but... I won't go into that..."
"Oh please, 'go into that', I'm curious."
I thrilled at the impish curl I heard. My clitoris reawoke in gleeful anticipation. I ran my thumb over the warm, smooth flesh I cradled in my hand. For the moment, Chris was unaware of my actions.
"I don't think we should go there."
"Go where?"
"You know..."
"No, I don't know, why don't you tell me?"
Shit, the game men must learn from the cradle. Making it seem like it was all the woman's idea. Well, might as well get it over with. "Talking about sex, you do remember sex, don't you?"
"I don't think I do remember, could you describe it to me?"
I grasped the soft breast and kneaded it, rolling and teasing the nipple again. I imagined that grin of his, if only he knew. "Well, yes I could. I could describe it quite well, in fact." I stopped. I heard a soft, clear, sensible tone, "But I don't think that would be a good idea..."
"I suppose you're right, you have a boyfriend, after all..." I heard a curl from burning incense belie the words and beckon me into some hazy, heady chamber.
"And we're colleagues..."
"And we're colleagues..." he replied, suddenly as hard and grey as pewter. "Maybe that's a good thing, though. Can I ask you something?"
"I guess..."
There was a pause. The facts diffused in the moonless night. "Do you feel like a whole person right now?"
Yes, I did. That was it, wasn't it? The reason I pursued this man against all my better judgment. I felt that I could explore all of myself, without the fear of excluding him or leaving him behind.
"Yes... What about you?"
"To tell you the truth, I don't know," Chris offered cautiously. "I haven't thought about it as much as you have. Maybe, you're not the only one who has been avoiding the future."
"So if something happened tonight, nothing would be resolved." I felt my body withdraw, or perhaps merely hesitate.
"We wouldn't be alone."
I paused a moment. Why had I called in the first place? Because I was alone. Put this in perspective, Meg. Life is short, I thought.
"Okay."
"Okay? Meg, you mean that?"
"Yes."
"Well, then," suddenly Chris was silent.
We were starting from scratch. Now what? "Cat got your tongue?"
Chris let out a burst of nervous laughter, "Heh-heh, she said tongue."
I let my voice drop a little, adding some huskiness to it, "Yes, I did."
"Oh wow, I like your voice like that... it sounds like..."
"The voice of your car? 'The door is ajar,'" I said, with a deep, even voice.
Chris chuckled in recognition, "Yes... You've done this before, haven't you?"
"Mmm hmm," I hummed in wordless affirmation, "Are you comfortable?"
"Uh... for the most part, I'm on my bed, and you?"
"No, I'm sitting by the window. The lights are off so no one can see in."
"Aw, not an exhibitionist?"
"Oh, I can be, but that would take the focus away from you."
Chris laughed again, but it seemed more relaxed, "How thoughtful of you."
"I do my best."
"Hmmm... really? What are you wearing?"
"My bathrobe, do you want me to take it off?"
"Not yet. Are you wearing anything underneath?"
"No."
"Are you touching yourself?"
"I have one hand under the robe, cradling my breast."
"Just cradling it?"
"Well, I could do more if you'd like.."
"Yes, I would like."
"I'm taking the nipple between my fingers and rolling it, pinching it a little. It's a bit cold in here, so they both feel nice and tight. Mmmm... I'm getting a bit of reaction down below."
"Down below? You think you could be more specific?"
"Sorry... I usually don't have a problem saying those words, it's just that... Well, you're different."
"It's okay, you have my permission to say 'pussy.'"
"Umm... I feel my pussy beginning to twinge again..."
"Again?"
"Yeah.. well... I was doing this before... right when you called me back..."
Chris let out a short grunt, "Oh man, so you're telling me that all this time... hold on a sec, I'm going to have to get rid of the jeans."
I heard the rustle of fabric. "Okay, I'm back. Wow, you were touching yourself while we talking, huh? Well, that little piece of information got quite a reaction... Please, tell me more."
"I'm glad you're ... um ... responding. I'm rubbing my thumb in circles around the areola, now. I'm becoming more aroused, especially since I know that I've had an effect on you. I'm going to slip my hand between my legs. First, I slide it down my belly, warming the cool skin. I've gotten to my ... uh... pussy and I separate the folds with my fingers. I've become very wet, my fingers are covered in the warm, slippery fluid... How are you doing?"
"I am very well, thank you," he replied from an insubstantial haze. I listened for indications of his arousal, the shortness of breath, urgency in his voice.
"What are you doing?"
"I've got my hand around my cock, and I'm stroking it slowly. Listening to you please yourself."Okay, I return to my pussy and begin pressing on my clitoris in small circles. It's slick from the wetness, and that makes the tingling more intense. I can feel the tension building..."
"Meg, I've got this picture of you lying on your back with your robe half open and the city lights behind you. I can just imagine you arching your back... I'd walk over and watch you get more and more aroused..."
I used his image, seeing Chris stand over me. I continued rubbing myself, frequently pressing two fingers along the valley between my inner lips and into my depths. All the while, describing it to the other voice. I opened my robe and let the cool air nip at my skin, opening myself to the sensual experiences available to me. My flesh and my voice both felt tight and swollen, and I needed more...
"Chris, I need you to talk to me, please..."
He told me how he wanted to taste me and cover me with his own body. He wanted me to feel him in order to bring me closer to the edge, but I needed only to hear him speak of his desires. His voice had thickened into grey-blue storm clouds, and in my mind I stood facing the wind, awaiting the downpour. Chris' once placid timber now possessed me, gusts of arousal buffeting and twirling around. The words were secondary to the thundering passion.
"I have you up against the wall, and I lift up one thigh around me," he huffed. "I press my cock against your entrance and drive myself in. Sorry, Meg, but I'm just going to take you now, thumping you hard against the wall.
"I grab your ass and press my hips against yours. I feel your cock rub inside of me as I clamp down on it. Uh... Please, keep talking... I'm almost there..."
I looked outside at the lights, imagining that some trick of lighting displayed my legs and my robe spread open for all to see. I began squeezing my pelvis, pushing down with all my strength. My own moans were like the wind over an old house, keening and shuddering under the assault. I pressed my feet into the wall as I squeezed and sweat. My hand rubbed urgently between my legs as lightning struck, heat and electricity searing my flesh. I trembled and slid to the floor, listening to Chris' own distant tempest.
"I'm done, baby..." I panted, "Thank you... What can I do for you now?"
There was only a heavy stillness, evoking images of dripping trees and a lightening sky... "I kind of figured that, that you were done. You don't need to do anything, that last part put me over, when I heard you. I should thank you..."
The wind had died down and the storm had run its course. I looked outside to see the moon appear from behind the clouds.
"I wish I could hold you, Meg. I wish I could have seen you," Chris' said in periwinkle tones. His tenderness curled up next to me as I slipped into bed.
"Yes, I know, but it was lovely hearing your voice..."
"I'm about to fall asleep, Meg. We should talk when we get the chance."
"Yeah, go to sleep. We can talk later."
"Night, Meg."
"Good night, Chris."
I kept the curtains open and watched the few stars that could be seen over the city lights. The clouds had passed, and it was a clear night. I didn't know if I would stay with Tommy or pursue something with Chris, but I knew I didn't feel alone anymore.
I felt whole. | 5 |
6,411 | DEUTSCHE STORY-Tagebuch1(pedo) | "Moni," said my father. He held my head firmly and pushed the warm, hard thing deeper into my mouth. "You know it, don't you! Show Papa what you learned from Grandpa!"
I knew it, yes, I knew it all too well. How did he know? I heard the moaning and knew what he expected of me. It was in the middle of the night. I had woken up when he began to caress my body. It was deathly silent in the house, I only heard his breath. I pretended to be asleep even when he took my tiny breast buds between his fingers. What did he have in mind? This had never happened before, but it was nice, warmth flowed through my body from his hands. He let me go for a moment, then I felt something hot and pulsating glide over my face and then press against my lips. I opened my eyes, proud, though a little uneasy, for so far I had only been with Grandpa.
Dear diary, you ask how it started? It must have been about a year ago, yes, I remember, it was shortly after my tenth birthday, high summer, when Grandma was out shopping and he was alone with me in the house. He took me on his lap as he often did and started stroking my then still flat chest, which I liked, although it was a bit unusual. Afterwards, he made me promise to keep silent, which I gladly did, for I liked it and was also proud to have a secret with him, my dear Grandpa.
When we were alone, I would sit on his lap right away and he would also stroke my back and my bottom. Then he would hold me tight, shift around and pant strangely, let me go and reward me. When he stroked my legs, which I liked very much and which gave me a pleasant goosebump, it always went further. First it was the calves and the knees that he played with. I leaned my head against his chest. He whispered wild stories in my ear and kissed my hair. Meanwhile, his trembling hand stroked over the top of my thighs, slid under the hem of my dress and felt its way to the groin. Then his hand went to the side, massaged my bottom and glided back on the outside. Over and over, it was wonderful!
I snuggled up close to him and hugged his broad back. He pulled me close, whispered more and more incoherently, and when I looked up, he covered my face with his wet kisses. He moved in a very strange way and his face was flushed. Finally, he pushed his gnarled, wrinkled hand panting between my knees. On the inner side of my sweaty thighs, I felt his fingers glide higher and higher. Gently and purposefully, he guided his hand. Goosebumps ran over me. Confused thoughts ran through my head: "That's none of your business, he shouldn't touch there!" and at the same time: "Oh well, no one will find out and it's so nice!" I let him do it until he very gently stroked over my panties. It was more beautiful than anything else and I automatically opened my legs a little wider. Smiling, he asked me if I liked it. I just nodded. A moment later I was lying on the sofa, Grandpa kneeling on the floor and staring between my thighs. I got hot ears because that was dirty, but he just kept going. He stroked me again on the inside of the thighs. Higher and higher, I asked him to stop because I was so ashamed, but he already grabbed me right on the panties, pressed his fingers against my immature sex, I heard his jerky breath. He smiled at me. Then he pushed the slip aside and as I felt a finger glide over my hairless slit, it was so wonderful that I gave up all doubts. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the hot waves that raced through me. Goosebumps and tension shook me.
I don't remember exactly what happened then, but in any case I came to when I felt Grandpa covering my eyes with his hands, asking me mysteriously to open my mouth, and then something hot and pulsating was pushed between my lips, which smelled of Nutella, while his knee rubbed against my slit. I liked that and started licking even before he uncovered my eyes. How I was startled then: He stood over me with a flushed face, a triumphant smile, and with open pants, and he squeezed his gnarled penis, which was smeared all over with Nutella, into my mouth! I was disgusted, wanted to defend myself, but he held my head firmly and whispered: "Moni darling, just do it, it doesn't hurt and he's freshly washed. After all, you can also do something for your grandpa, can't you?" His half-hard thing filled my mouth, he pushed it deeper and deeper in and I had trouble not to gag. He asked me kindly to be nice and lick and suck him: "So it will be as nice for Grandpa as it was for you before." I understood that I owed him that and obeyed. It wasn't so bad, and after a while it was even fun to feel him getting harder and panting, and then finally coming. The little salty slime startled me and didn't taste so good, but he persuaded me to swallow it. Then he thanked me effusively and rewarded me.
No, it was really nothing new for me when Papa's penis entered my mouth, except that it was much bigger and harder! And yet it was different. I knew I no longer had to keep any secrets from my father, that was over now. It was like a gift. It was my own father who did this with me. And if he did it with me, it must be right. My father does nothing wrong. I was his little angel. He loved me! "Moni," panted my father. I licked over his velvety glans, then along the shaft. "Moni dear!" I choked a bit as his hot semen shot into my mouth. I was only used to a few drops from Grandpa and now this slimy flood! Like a fountain, stream after stream of his dear juice shot into my mouth and although I swallowed as much as I could, some still oozed out of the corners of my mouth, soiling my face, my nightgown and my bed. "Moni," said my father as I licked his flaccid penis clean, "now we have a secret. My little girl and I and Grandpa. Just the three of us, understood?" "Yes," I whispered, quite dazed by the smell and taste of his semen. "My dear child," my father kept saying, and zipped up his pants, then wiped his traces with a handkerchief. While doing so, he stroked my small breast, which immediately stiffened and sent pleasant feelings through my body. His warm breath blew in my face as he now kissed me, really kissed me - the way I had only done once before, secretly with my friend. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, like before his penis. Happily, I hugged him. Now all that was missing was... - A hand slid under my nightgown, over the thigh, to where it itched and burned. His fingers slipped under my panties and gently he began to explore my sex; he scratched the barely visible, fine hairs and rubbed my slit. He pulled the panties away. I sighed. "Now he'll stroke me there just like Grandpa!" I thought, but he slowly pressed me down onto my bed. With his full weight he then lay panting on me and fiddled with his pants; I felt his hardness between my legs, which I had opened on his demanding pressure. I knew only roughly what he intended and was terribly afraid. At the same time, I was somehow curious! Who if not him should show me how it's "really" done? But it must be terribly painful, my friend has told me, who knows it from her sister. But she was fourteen and I am eleven. And his thing is so huge!Herzklopfen, Angst, aber auch Stolz, dass ich es so jung lernen sollte. Noch dazu von meinem Vater, dem ich blind vertraute! Das war's: Er wusste es am besten, und wenn es heute sein sollte, war mir das recht.
Leider fuhr in diesem Moment Mamas Wagen in die Garage. Blitzschnell erhob er sich und richtete seine Kleider, dabei flüsterte er: "Papa hat dich ganz doll lieb. Aber wenn du Mami verrätst, was wir tun, muss ich ins Gefängnis. Möchtest du das?" Ich schüttelte den Kopf und sagte leise: "Ich sage nichts! Ich will dich nicht verlieren. Ich hab dir doch auch das mit dem Großvater nicht verraten und dich hab ich noch viel lieber! Bitte, komm bald wieder!" Mein Vater eilte aus dem Zimmer.
Donnerstag, 7. Mai
Es dauerte fast eine Woche, bis ich wieder einmal mit Vater allein war, da er sehr viel arbeitete. Aber am Freitag holte er mich mit dem Auto von der Schule ab, wir hatten nicht viel Zeit. Kaum waren wir losgefahren, legte er seine große Hand auf meinen Schenkel. "Darf ich?" fragte er mit einem Seitenblick. Statt einer Antwort nahm ich seine Hand und schob sie unter mein Röckchen. Sanft tastete er sich zwischen meine leicht gespreizten Beine. Ich lehnte mich zurück. "Ach Moni, mein Schatz!" seufzte er, während seine Finger über mein Schlitzchen rieben. Ich schloss die Augen. Willig ließ ich ihn meine Hand nehmen und sich in die Hose schieben. Er war schon sehr steif und ich freute mich darauf, ihn bald in den Mund zu nehmen.
Gut hatte unser Wagen eine automatische Schaltung, so konnte er ungestört weiterspielen, während wir gleichmäßig nach Hause fuhren. Einer seiner Finger glitt durch meine Spalte, während sein Daumen meinen Kitzler massierte. Ich wurde unruhig, es war so schön! Sein Finger glitt hin und her, immer tiefer bohrte er sich in mein jungfräuliches Geschlecht und plötzlich fühlte ich einen Schmerz. Ich bäumte mich auf und spürte gleich darauf seinen Finger tief in mir drin. Hitze schoss durch meinen Körper, ich vergaß alles um mich herum, dann war es vorbei.
In meiner riesigen Lust hatte ich ihn total vergessen. Erst als er seine Hand wieder hervorbrachte, glitzernd von meinem Saft und etwas Blut und ihn genüsslich ableckte, erst da merkte ich, dass meine Hand die ganze Zeit ruhig in seiner Hose gelegen hatte und er nur noch halb steif war. "Entschuldige, ich hab dich ganz vergessen!" stammelte ich, beugte mich über ihn und öffnete seine Hose. Während er immer langsamer durch unser Quartier steuerte, holte ich seine halbharte Nudel heraus. Mit beiden Händen begann ich sie sanft zu massieren und im Nu war sie wieder steif. Dann zog ich die Vorhaut ganz zurück, sodass seine violette Eichel freilag und küsste sie. Die Haut war samtweich, roch nach Papa und schon war er zwischen meinen Lippen. "Aufsitzen!" zischte er mir zu, denn am Straßenrand stand Moser, ein Nachbar. Er schien nichts bemerkt zu haben und winkte uns freundlich zu. Wir fuhren in die Garage. Wir blieben im Auto sitzen. Mama war noch nicht da. Ich beugte mich wieder über Papa und jetzt schob er seinen riesigen, lieben Pimmel in meinen Mund. Er hielt mit einer Hand meinen Kopf fest und die andere schob sich zwischen meine Beine. Mit kräftigen Beckenstößen fickte er meinen Mund, während ich saugte und leckte wie wild. Es dauerte nur wenige Sekunden, dann schoss ein heißer, schleimiger Strahl in meinen Mund. Ich schluckte was ich konnte, es schoss immer mehr von seinem Samen heraus, bis er endlich versiegte. Ich konnte ihn kaum noch sauberlecken, da hörten wir Mamas Wagen.
Der Geschmack von Papis Samen war noch in meinem Mund, deshalb sauste ich aufs Klo, bevor ich Mutti begrüßte. Zudem musste ich pinkeln. Ein leichtes Brennen und einige Blutstropfen in meinem Höschen ließen mich vermuten, dass Vati das Jungfernhäutchen beschädigt hatte. Na, egal. Nach dem Pinkeln rieb ich mich noch etwas, es war schön, doch Mami musste auch aufs Klo. Ich putzte rasch meine Zähne, damit ich Mutter unverdächtig küssen konnte. | 5 |
6,449 | Stocking Filler | "It'll be brilliant. A real laugh," he'd said, and I had to agree with him, though I had my reservations. My husband, God bless him, was going to go the full Monty this Christmas and dress up as Santa.
"You know the boys are old enough - and savvy enough - to stay awake to try to catch him this year. But as long as I'm disguised in the full regalia when the little buggers leap out of the wardrobe, the Christmas mystique'll be preserved to the hilt. You can't say that's not a great idea."
It happened that a colleague of James had a Father Christmas outfit he was prepared to lend out. His own kids had grown out of Santa. James assured me that this was not only *an* outfit but *the* outfit, an extremely high-class job with stage-quality whiskers and real red velvet.
So why wasn't I brimming with enthusiasm? Well, it was my husband's happy and ever-present knack of ballsing up simple domestic tasks - fixing the shower attachment so the only thing that got wet was the ceiling, managing to weld his toecaps together... Little things like that.
"OK, sweetheart. You know how soppy I am about Christmas and the kids. It's a great idea. Very thoughtful. But no trying to come down the chimney. Don't forget the work we had done when they put in the new boiler!"
With many promises of seemly conduct, my chirpy robin redbreast of a husband set off for the office on Christmas Eve, promising to knock my socks off with a superb bit of costuming at the witching hour.
Well, I had plans of my own, but they'd have to wait. Wait while I wrapped stocking fillers, baked gingerbread, peeled vegetables for tomorrow's feast, entertained small boys and hid dozens of packages. We live in a big old house, but it's amazing how soon you run out of hiding places....
Seven o'clock came; supper time for the boys, and my beloved staggering home at last after battling his way through commuter hell: white, tired and carrying a large parcel. It's been a long year for both of us. He collapsed with a stiff drink, the Christmas TV guide and a marker pen.
Two small boys to bathe, to read to and tuck in. I gaze at them fresh out of the bath: perfect limbs, chubby feet, silky blonde hair, sparkling eyes. They look unfeasibly angelic. "Now be sure to get to sleep straight away. You know Father Christmas won't come if you're awake."
"Yes, mummy!" comes the chorus. Far too perky for children due for imminent sleep. Ah well, this year we have a secret weapon. Or two.... I smile to myself.
Oh, well, onward and upward. Mummies don't stop. A happy, tiring evening for me - icing the Christmas cake to look like snow and arranging the traditional porcelain Santa on top, baking a few last-minute mince pies, ironing tiny best clothes for the morning (bringing as it would the witness of the grandparents' relentless video cameras...) James slumps in front of the box, soaking in my quiet domestic bustle. He likes housework. Could watch it for hours...
James is looking forward to watching a late thriller. I lie to him. I have some final preparations before midnight mass, I say. If you do the stocking delivery when your movie finishes, I'll see you in the living room around 1am... I give him a little wink. He grins back. We're already planning a little celebration of our own, but I want to conceal the time I'll need for my secret additional preparations for this erotic appointment....
But I'm not going to church. At midnight, I slip upstairs through the shadows and into the upstairs bathroom with a couple of expensive-looking bags. I light candles in the wall sconces, run myself a long, warm bath and produce my present from myself from the first carrier. I've bought myself a complete set of Chanel 19 products, and lollop glorious scented oil into the water with a lavish hand. I pile my hair on my head and slide down into the milky water. Half an hour of luxurious drifting. Lying in the perfumed steam, I stroke my pussy lips, squeeze my breasts, flick my nipple tips...
Sensing myself drift into drowsy sexual reverie, I pull myself together and clamber out, relishing enjoying the warm but bracing snowdrift of our best towels. I've got things to do, and I'm too tired to relax. If I'm going to be ready to surprise James, I must at least keep awake! Weaken once, and I'll be out like a light 'til morning...
Gleaming in the candlelight, I smooth body lotion up my legs and body, paying special attention to my breasts and thighs. None between my legs, though - strong perfume and pussy don't mix - not unless you fancy hopping about on one leg for ten minutes.
Sitting on the loo with my feet on the edge of the sink, I paint my toenails scarlet. While they dry, I stick false ones in the same shade on my fingertips. Used to be I had lovely hands, but nowadays, with my lifestyle, elegant nails have become something I have to buy.
Now for makeup. The whole works. James doesn't go for the natural look. "Slap it on, girl!" he always urges. "Let glamor be our watchword." I smile to myself, because James has no idea of my secret. He's expecting passion, yes, but he's expecting the housewife with her tousled allure - not a full-on temptress under the tree.
Dusky eye-shadow, lashings of mascara, glitter highlights on the browbone, eyeliner to provide that Bambi look. A startled fawn for my big buck. Lastly, the lips. I outline them carefully with crimson, filling in with a brighter red and polishing off with gloss. A mouth as red and shiny as holly berries. A cock-sucking mouth. I'll stripe him like a candy cane. Poor bugger won't know what's hit him.
Now for the second bag. I open it and peek in, relishing the monogrammed tissue paper. This was a very expensive treat. The bag is extremely light. Silk *is* light, after all. And when I slip the items one by one from the bag, I am certain James will be only too pleased to find the bill on our credit card statement.
Scarlet garterbelt, split-crotch panties, tiny lace bra and a gauzy wrap. Obvious, yes, but saved from sleaze by the sheer quality and cut of the garments. Besides which, they don't make flimsy bras in my size at the cheaper end of the market. At least that's my excuse.
I've bought stockings too, sheer black with a proper seam at the back. Fantasy stockings. I already have the shoes. Tiny red peeptoes with a four-inch spike heel. Of course, I can't actually walk in the damn things - but then I didn't buy them for that!
As I put on my new lingerie, I study myself in the mirror. Leaning forward to settle my heavy breasts properly in the cups, I grin at my reflection. I'm not the slim girl James married. Time, my own good cooking and pregnancy have seen to that. But I'm deliciously feminine. My breasts aren't as high as they were, but - my, my - *aren't* they full now! As for my nipples, they're outrageous - jutting, dark and assertive. My wider hips are compensated for by the still-narrow waist, and my legs, long and elegant. Certainly my husband's demonstrations of affection haven't lessened over the years. He likes to use silly Victorian expressions - "demonstrations of affection". He likes to tease me about how I can still get him hard with just a look.
Straightening up, I adjust my stockings one last time, slip the robe over my shoulders and loosen my hair. The thick dark waves fall down my back. I've tweaked a couple of white hairs out of my hairline during the past year, but otherwise I still look pretty good. I know James will think so, anyway.
I gaze at myself questioningly - at the finished effect. I think I look gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as I did ten years ago, but still gorgeous. I know James will show his appreciation with immense and varied dedication..... But I wonder to myself if he'd really desire me as much if he didn't love me so deeply. Just how attractive am I these days? James sees me with the eyes of love, and I see myself through his eyes. But what would a stranger think? Would he see an overweight middle-aged woman? Past her best?
Morbid thoughts.Christmas is a time for morbid thoughts - that's why the suicides, the family break-ups, the traditional ghost stories. Literally, I shake off my doubts. As I toss my head, my long hair shines and ripples under the candlelight.
I love James, he loves me. We have two precious little ones sleeping down the hall. At least in theory they're sleeping. I won't check, though. If they're not asleep, my appearance will trigger a whole new round of requests for drinks, stories, or teddy-retrieval. But we have love in this house, and I shouldn't doubt it. "Don't be silly, girl," I order silently.
It's 12:45 now, and James will be up to do the stockings soon. Yes, I can hear his tread on the stairs; there's one that creaks. I blow out the candles. Now he tiptoes past the bathroom door, and I can hear him creeping along the corridor towards the boys' rooms. He must be round the corner by now. Santa Claus is coming to town.
Sneaking the door open silently, with my slut-wife shoes clutched in one hand, I slip out of the bathroom and am down the stairs like a scarlet ghost before James can spot me. I'll be waiting in the living room for him. I grin to myself at the thought of his face when he sees me. He loves me dressed up.
I creep into the living room. Deserted, as I hoped. There are no logs in our huge stone fireplace. There never are, these days, thanks to clean air regulations, but the gas fire is beautifully warm. Turning out all the other lights, but leaving the tree ones to sparkle multicolored on my flesh, I skip over to the hearth and lie down in front of the fire. We've got a couple of diehard old sheepskins inherited from my parents. The fleece is still thick and soft. A couple of cushions off the sofa make a comfy couch, and, slipping on my slut shoes, I snuggle down in Christmassy expectation.
I'm all ready to surprise my own darling Santa on his return from a successful mission. The dark corners of the big high-ceilinged room are hung with evergreens, and the scent of tree and leaf fill the air with aromatics. It's so quiet.... So warm, so quiet - so blissfully peaceful. The only sounds are the whisper of the fire and the faintest patter of needles falling off the Christmas tree....
Blinking, I gaze at Santa. I must've dropped off. Hardly surprising: all that peeling and baking would wear out an Olympic athlete, not to mention wrapping two dozen stocking fillers.... Still, he's here now. And it is a good costume. In fact, it's a bloody good costume. Admittedly the light's poor, but his own mother wouldn't recognize him. James is Father Christmas to the life.
I stretch and sit up, smiling. "Happy Christmas, darling. What did Daddy say when he caught Mummy kissing Santa?" OK, it's corny, but then I'm corny.
I recline on the rug again, stretching like a cat to flaunt the opening in my panties. "Come here and try a taste of this," I invite.
"Not bloody likely. Look what it's done to your knickers!"
It's James's joke, but it's not James's voice. It's richer, fruitier, a touch of an accent. He's playing a game. He's going to stay in character. I always feel awkward playing a part, but I'll give it a go.
"Have you got a present for a good little girl, Santa?" I breathe, all Marilyn Monroe.
"Sure have, sweetie," he replies. "Come here and have a feel in my pockets."
Clambering to my feet, I sashay over to him (can't not sway in these shoes) and wrap my arms around his waist. Not very far round, though. James must be wearing padding. OK, he's no longer slim (my cooking again, I'm afraid) but he's quite a bit slimmer than this. It really is a very good costume. The velvet is thick and luxurious. I slip a hand into his pocket as Santa leans down to kiss me. Our lips meet as I sink into his dear embrace.
"HOLY SHIT! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
I'm electric with panic. This isn't James. No way is it James. For one thing, there's a difference between the perfectly honed kiss that comes from ten years of practice with the same person and the velvety expertise of a great kisser you never met before. For another, there is no pocket in Santa's suit. It just goes straight through to warm naked flesh - and there's a lot more flesh there than James has ever possessed. Loads.
In a split second I've realized I'm cuddling a strange man dressed as Father Christmas. A strange, very fat man dressed as Father Christmas. Where is James? Are the kids OK? Are they alive! What the fuck's going on?
With a small shriek I pull away, staring in horror at the stranger under my Christmas tree.
He smiles at me like sunshine, his big brown eyes crinkling gloriously, his broad grin nearly hidden under his snowy mustache and beard, his white prawn eyebrows dancing. His smile is as sweet as a child's kiss, his eyes as full of fun as a baby's laughter. He has a lot of James about him - but he isn't James. On the other hand, surely this is no psychopath? Though aren't the worst ones supposed to laugh innocently as they fillet you?
The stranger is having a weird effect on me. This old man's whole being floods merriment and sexual energy into the room, into my flesh. Half-fearful, half-delighted, I stand staring at him, tingling with excitement.
"Happy Christmas, honey!" he carols, and chuckles. And as he chuckles I hear the distant sound of jingling bells. "You've been such a good girl all year I thought I'd give us both a special treat."
I am trying to remain stern. I am trying to remain worried. But such is the power of his merriment, the vibrancy of his shining eyes, that I feel myself soften. Soften and warm.... Warm? Bollocks. I'm getting hot.
Mentally pulling my adult authority around me - not easy in a flame silk negligee - I square up to the intruder.
"And who the hell are you? I warn you, my husband's upstairs, and we've got a top of the range security system. The police will be here in a couple of minutes."
"I'm Santa Claus, sweet stuff," the old man replies. "As imperceptible to both husbands and security systems as pixy dust. Your babies are snug abed complete with the best stockings they've ever seen. And I'm here to bring tidings of comfort and joy, among other things..." His infectious, joyful grin contains an edge of mischief. "But you modern girls are such sceptics. Tell you what...." and he vanishes.
For a moment I stand, baffled, in an empty living room. Then I hear scrabbling and thuds behind me and, as I spin round, down our chimney pours an avalanche of chubby scarlet trimmed with black boots and white fur. Santa Claus springs to his feet in our empty grate (where's the gas fire gone?) and, dusting himself off, comes springing out onto the rug. Behind him a huge log fire manifests in the fireplace, already in full blaze, crackling and filling the air with the scent of apple wood. The smile is even broader now, and the twinkling of his eyes puts the Christmas lights to shame.
"Santa Claus at your service, ma'am!" he chuckles. "Or Father Christmas if you prefer. Some of my lady friends like the Father C bit - gives it that naughty incestuous edge!" and, roaring with merriment, he holds out his hands.
I will not go to him though. Even if he is Father Christmas. And he is Father Christmas, I'm sure of that. For one thing, where did that all too real fire come from? For two, even the most skillful of burglars couldn't slip down our chimney. Not since we had it bricked up last summer. This is magic.
But magic or no, I am no adulteress. At least, not in the flesh. Dreams don't count. Not even that one about 12 Axel Roses and a double-decker bus. This big jolly stranger may be Father Christmas - he might be the man in the moon for all I care. Makes no difference, what matters is that he isn't James. Because I am married to James - and I plan to stay that way. I stand firm.
"Ah, but it doesn't count, sweetheart," he chuckles.
"What doesn't count?" I stare, nonplussed.
"Goodness, angel!" he twinkles his eyebrows at me.
"Frankly, for a writer, you don't have a lot of imagination," Santa teases. "Surely you should have worked out for yourself that I'd have to be able to read minds. How else could I fulfill the dreams of millions of little hearts? And surely you realize that this isn't happening in real time? Or perhaps you have a logical explanation as to how I visit so many precious children in one enchanted night? Let alone the refreshments I get through!" And he gives another fat chuckle. I know that voice, somehow, but I can't place it.
I stand there with my mouth open. But I am an arm's length away from him, still uncertain.
"My darling Christmas angel, I am Santa Claus - he of a million smoking chimneys. And hot sex with Santa Claus can't possibly count as real-time infidelity. After all, you never worried about being had up for sacrilege, did you?"
I can feel myself blushing from my thighs up. All those wicked priest fantasies and me not even a Catholic. Even James doesn't know about those. It's all too shamefully true. I'm having to repress a hysterical desire to giggle. It would make novel graffiti, anyway: 'Father Christmas is a telepath!'
"Come here, you scarlet woman," he urges. "No, I'm not trying to seduce you, silly creature. I just want you to see something. A little surprise I laid on for you. I know you'll like it!"
"Come to the window," he coaxes. "I've got something to show you."
In a dream I float towards the curtains. My negligee flutters in the draught, but somehow I'm still toasty warm. Santa Claus waves a large hand and the curtains are open. The scene before me makes me gasp with pleasure. I feel like a child.
Anyone could set up the sleigh. At least anyone motivated enough to seduce me - and people have gone to extremes in the past. And the reindeer wouldn't be impossible. Difficult, but not impossible.
What convinces me, what carries me right over the edge, is the snow....
This, after all, is the Home Counties - nearly London.Four inches provides a year to remember.... Snow, that is. But as far as the eye can see, my familiar landscape is covered in a thick, sparkling Disney coating. It's more than white. It's more than snow. It's pluperfect Technicolor dazzle. Artistic icicles hang from every conceivable horizontal. Scatters of luminous sparkle hang in the air. My Christmas dream. Santa Claus is humming "Walking in our Winter Wonderland" as I turn and slip into his arms.
It's ages since I was this close to a fat man. And even he (naming no names) wasn't as fat as this. It's ever so cozy. Santa and I are snuggling on the hearth rug. We're doing some good old-fashioned Christmas necking. It's ages since I did this, too. Mouths - faces - in the dark, connecting - flexing, pouting. Lips parting, rippling, quivering... I run the tip of my tongue along the inside of his top lip, he tickles my palate with his... The beard's fun, too. I'm not used to beards. His mustache must be getting a bit damp though. Good thing it's real.... Play havoc with stage whiskers, I'll bet.
We speak in tongues, sometimes playful, sometimes hot - demanding. He floods my mouth with warm saliva, pumping his narrowed rigid tongue tip in and out in tiny imitation of our imminent fuck. Obvious. But sexy..... I like obvious but sexy. My body is filled with the pleasure of his nearness. Jolly bugger sends out waves of festivity - or something.....
I'm so enjoying just this kissing. James and I kiss, but not for hours. And it seems like hours, though I suppose time has been suspended. Of course, it's an additional kick that each time we part - for breath, to gaze into each other's eyes - the darkness between is hung with starry colored glitter, for all the world like cartoon magic dust.
But I'm beginning to speculate about what 'next' will be like. Because next is going to be soon.... My breathing is chaotic. Santa's is deep and even. But not crisp. He's not rushing the pace. I'm so liquid, so lustful - it looks like I'm going to have to....
New styles for new people. Santa's too fat for what James and I usually do. I'll have to go on top. Putting a hand on each shoulder, I push him gently back. Lying on his belly, head by his heart, I push a hand into each of his pockets. Warm, soft hairy flesh inside. I'm moving my hands down and together, though my scope for maneuver is limited.
"Holy fuck, Santa! What's that?" Stupid question. It feels a lot like the biggest cock I ever felt in my life. I can't get hold of it properly. Each hand can only just reach his shaft, huge and pulsing against my fingertips. I slide off him, sitting up, skidding to unbuckle that big silver buckle, wild with excitement. Strange to say, he's not laughing. Just a big, slow grin and those brown eyes full of glee...
Wrench the black belt undone, unbutton those thick velvet trousers.... I'm unwrapping Santa. Both hands diving in, like a kid in a lucky dip. He grunts as he raises his mighty buttocks off the rug so I can pull his trousers off. Must've wriggled out of those boots while we were snogging. I wouldn't have noticed if the house had burned down.
It's the biggest, most velvety, hardest gorgeous great dick I ever saw in all my wild life. "Oh, Father Christmas!" I breathe. "What a lovely surprise!"
"I call him Rudolph," Santa Claus says modestly, and giggles.
I'm one of nature's cock worshippers, so I can't help but suck it. Can't get the whole head in my mouth - impressive if frustrating - so confine myself to licking it, gripping it, hefting his huge balls in my hand. Dipping my head, I tongue the little dripping mouth, running my tongue-tip round the underside of the head, rasping the rough underside with the very edge of my bottom teeth.
I twist down between his thighs, running my tongue up his taut scrotum. Peppermint. Warm furry candy. "And visions of sugar plums danced in my head," whispers Santa.
It's a miracle. A weird, sexy miracle. I'm not rushing. After all, we have all the time in the world. I keep drawing back slightly to admire the sheer size of his beautiful cock. He's circumcised. That's a novelty, too. "I didn't know they went in for circumcision in the frozen north," I remark vaguely. Silly thing to say, really. It's not as if I know a lot about anything to do with the frozen north. "Don't tell me Father Christmas is Jewish!" I giggle.
Then I get it, the full "Ho! Ho! Ho!" Every fold bounces with mirth. His cock bounces and swoops. His eyes crinkle and tears roll down his cheeks. I'm laughing too, though what at I'm not sure. All I know is a sense of total happiness. I cuddle and giggle. We rock and nestle until gradually the great rollicking chuckles subside.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, he grins at me.
"Honey, I'm American. And heavily influenced by Hollywood. Surely you've noticed the cartoon peripherals. Love 'em myself!" And he gestures to demonstrate the luminous spangles that follow his fingertips. "Pixy dust. Constant source of pleasure. And the elves. Reduced the workload - and the isolation. Oh yes, I'm largely American in my current manifestation. Invented by Coca-Cola. Thought a lady of your education would have all that at her fingertips."
Now he mentions it, I do remember something about it. "Oh yes, the red outfit and all that," I say. "But aren't you our English Father Christmas - and Saint Nicholas too?"
I feel him change. Just a little. There's still an immense warmth emanating from him, but now it is perhaps a fraction less cozy, a fraction more untamed.
"Yes and no, darling..." At last I recognize the accent. He sounds exactly like James Stewart. It figures. Oh, yes, it figures.
"I'm a Coca-Cola figurehead, and your own Father Christmas, and I'm Saint Nick who gave gold to poor girls to save them from prostitution. Nothing I hate more than commercialized sex. Sex needs freedom like wild swans need freedom. Sex is sacred to Santa Claus... Because though I may be a dozens myths in one, it helps to remember my first incarnation."
"And what was that?" I ask, chastened.
"The ancient green-coated wizard of the North who flew by night. The man of power. The life bringer. I'm a pagan. And I can be very pagan indeed..."
He grips me in his huge velvet-covered arms and the world turns over. Suddenly weightless, I am high over him as he lifts me up across his belly and lowers me onto his cock head. I gasp and cry out as the smooth rounded heat stretches my cunt. His hands are on my shoulders, gently but inexorably bearing me down on what feels an impossibly large hard-on. An image of Egyptian priestesses riding the great stone phalluses by the Nile flicks across my mind's eye. It may feel impossible but it also feels incredible. I'm going to fuck this cock if it's the last thing I do. Doesn't seem likely to be the last thing I do, though. In fact, as he forces me down and I urge myself to open to its mighty breadth, it seems as if this is the first of a million things I might do. All things are possible. I am flushed with power, with dark green shoots of vitality.
Oh yes, give me your cock! Gimme it all!" I beg. Either I am slighter or he has grown. He seems seven feet tall as he gazes up between my braced thighs. Riding his broad belly stretches me like riding a horse, and his huge, hot cock pillar feels like a tree within me - a python, twisting and growing, hot and flowering.
Flexing my thighs and calves, digging in with my heels, I jam myself down on him with a fury. I feel impossibly full, but the stretching is making me come. God, it's making me come...
The muscles deep in my cunt ripple sideways across his shaft, stretching, gripping, appreciating his godhead. My breath is deep and quiet as moonlight, my cries are far away. My back arches, the muscles in my belly ripple and shift. I can feel my hot juice all over his balls and under my ass. I have reached a stage where orgasms pump cumjuice out of me like water, where my breasts harden and my nipples ache with arousal.
Which he has noticed, and with one bound they are free. Very slick, the way he pushes both hands quickly up close to my ribcage from beneath, toppling my swollen gleaming breasts out of my bra cups in one deft motion. My nipples rage out in front, big crimson raspberries of excitement. He has both in one hand, while a sideways thumb slips down to press against my soaking mound where the root of my twanging clitoris is sealed against his cock and belly.
His palm and fingers are clenching, jerking, hard yet just right, on my nipples. I feel the rush down to my clit, where his thumb exerts a pressure that is making me buck and scream.
Just when I thought I couldn't come any harder, I am avalanching sensation. My cunt beats like a heart, holds him in a death grip. Heat consumes us, my eyes are screwed up, I pant like a dog. I am possessed as orgasm shakes me over and over again.
In a moment of white-heat clarity, my face unravels and our eyes meet. His are now as green as glass, as wild as wolves, as loving as a mother's heart. He grips my hips and arches up as I ram myself down with all my tenacity. I feel his cock in my head now, I feel my pleasure in my bones.
I shove my own hands under my breasts, jutting them out more. "I've got the whole length now. It's right up there. Every last fuckin' inch. Now you can really give it me. Go on, give it me!"
His size doesn't hinder his movements. He has me safe and tight against his huge chest and flips us over in an instant. I am flat on my back with my ankles round his ears. I'm right, he has got bigger, though he'll not crush me. His beard flows over my breasts, gentle on my hot skin. Vaguely I notice he still has half his clothes on. So do I. Not that it's any handicap....
And then he takes all his weight - and mine - off the floor and rocks us both deeper together. There is no strain, just an easy opening of my liquid pelvis wider than I dreamed possible.How can so much go so deep - feel so immensely good?
He starts to thrust me, hard and deep. All my force and skill fly up to join him. His strokes are controlled but growing steadily more assertive, more insistent. I love that moment when the control goes. It has to be my favorite moment in the world. And it's coming, it's coming....
"Yes! Fuck, yes. Oh yes! Please, oh please! All the way. All the way..." I am urging him to give way, and he is teetering on the precipice and he is lunging that long, smooth, incredible stroke that breaks control and his cock slides into me faster and faster until, in the most beautiful, exquisite way, the force takes on a life of its own and slams to a beat that pumps repetitively, unmistakably, savagely.... Christmas is coming.... Oh yes, Christmas is coming.
I lose myself in that endless drenching moment but I swear that in that fleeting mystery his red velvet shoulder turned to green....
We are wrapped in each other's arms. My eyes are closed, happy tears on my face. Say what you like about muscles and so forth, fat men are so deliciously cuddly. So warm. My heart is full of candlelight. I feel newborn. I have never felt so marvelous. I could do anything. At least I could probably do anything in a little while, after we've had this nice cuddle.....
"I've got to go, sweet," he whispers tenderly and kisses my forehead. Regret and love breathe in his words. "So many stockings and pillowcases to fill, so many dreams to fulfill... So many snacks to consume..." The giggle is returning to his voice.
"Of course you do." I am returning to my own self too. No small child shall be deprived for my wild Christmas Eve. I cannot ask him to stay. But I am not sure what to say.... How to part.
The fire he created is embers now. He stands and is immaculately dressed in a second. Yet another plus point of magic I think, with some amusement. A handy trick. Very handy. Specially on school mornings. Ah well, we mortals must accept our limitations.... I am still half-sprawled on the hearth rug, drenched in sex, stockings askew. Heaven only knows what my makeup looks like now. But then, who cares?
He smiles down at me, wrapping me in loving kindness. "Happy Christmas, my good girl," he grins. "Though precisely whether you're naughty or nice is quite beyond me!"
Laughing, he steps into the fireplace. The fire roars up around him and glossy green leaves surround his wild, joyful face. "Happy Christmas!" he roars, huge, radiant and suddenly majestic.
"Why, you're the Green Man, too!" I cry.
"Knew it would come back to you eventually!" he thunders, his triangular grin splitting his beard. And the laughter grows and the flames blossom and he is gone.... Just a ripple of laughter and a distant jingling.
"Wake up, sweetheart. The kids'll be up in a minute!" I am being jiggled.
"Where.. What?"
I am on the hearthrug. My body tells me it's early morning. James is rocking me gently, his face creased with affection and sleep.
I grab my senses round me urgently. What's happening? Who's here? What've I done?
We are cuddled together in front of the gas fire. It's so warm and stuffy we must've been here all night. My Christmas lingerie is rumpled, sweaty, stained. My hair is damp. A creased Santa Claus suit, including beard, lies in a pile under the tree. James is naked, his sweet self.
So we gather up all the evidence and creep up to our chilly bedroom to set all to rights before the excited squeaks of children make the dawn chorus of our Christmas morning. Once decent in Daddy-type pajamas, James sneaks down to make us both coffee.
Grabbing the necessary bits, I whisk silently into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I've got to move fast to remove my smeared makeup and swap my sexy rags for a cheery floor-length tartan nightdress. Want to be in bed like something out of Little House on the Prairie when the kids rush through to show off their surprises.
But first I catch my own eye in the mirror and give myself a long slow appraising look. Dear, sweet Father Christmas. Pagan sex god maybe, but also kindly old gentleman. He's given me an out, a little unspoken message. "You don't need to feel guilty. After all, 'twas but a dream."
Was it fuck! He can set the scene all he likes but he's forgotten to remove the fairy dust that permeates the silk of my wrap and still sparkles on my breasts. He's also forgotten that good old joke, which I now know to be plain - and sticky - fact. "Christmas comes but once a year. But when he does he fills your stockings!"
It'll have to be a very long hot shower. Grinning, I start my day. | 4 |
6,471 | Grandma's Story | "Oh, good grief, Jeff, I'm too old to think about anything like that," I said with feigned shock and a laugh. But the thought did linger in my mind for a few minutes. Even though I've been a widow for fifteen years and am getting painfully close to sixty years old, I still have occasional sexual thoughts and I still have the vanity for keeping my appearance under some sort of control. I like to dress well and I would like to think that some men think I still have some attractive features.
Jeff is the idol of my life these days. He is my 28-year-old grandson who has lived with me during his senior year in high school and more recently while attending college for his advanced degrees. Our relationship took on an even deeper relationship when I found some of his erotic books and magazines and he caught me looking through them. That led to a discussion of sexuality, and we have confided in each other ever since. We have found it interesting to read and compare our impressions of the books "the Story of O," "Lady Chatterly's Lover," "The Pearl," and many other historical and more recent erotic writings, art, and photographs.
He had just suggested that for my upcoming birthday, he invite some of his friends home for what I can only term by the coarse title of Gang Bang. Shocking, of course, and he wouldn't have opened if it had not come up jokingly in some of our conversations. Especially those which have taken place over a glass or two of wine, late at night after he has returned from a date.
The ball was in my court. I was thinking that in fact it might be just what I would like, in spite of the fact that it was outrageous. I was having the old "you only live once" and "life is getting short" arguments with myself.
When he brought up what I wanted for my birthday again, he said, again jokingly, "unless you have decided to take me up on my original offer?"
Taking a deep breath, I replied, "well, now that you bring the subject up, maybe I have." "At least maybe we could have them over for a game of poker, or something like that," I chickened out at the last moment and softened it a bit.
"Oh, well, maybe so," he mused, looking at me intensely, as I averted my eyes and then returned his gaze. Then with a big reassuring smile, "I'm not sure you'll be able to fight them off, though, the way you look!"
"Do you think it would be OK?" I said, seeking some reassurance. "Or will they just think I'm a fat dumpy old woman who has lost her senses?"
"No, I don't think that at all," he replied. "Look at yourself." I think you look terrific, but then I've always had a crush on you!" he said in his charming way.
" I can still remember that you were my first sex symbol, and how I couldn't take my eyes off your breasts." I would work hours trying to find an angle to see more of them, or to see you in your bra, you know. I'm sure you were aware of that, eh?"
"Oh, the way you talk. But, of course that is the way all little boys are, aren't they. I mean it is perfectly normal to have an attachment for the first women you are close to."
So, the night has come. I have been worrying about it for two weeks and have been torn between canceling out several times. Each time Jeff has been reassuring that it will be all right and I have relented. I even went out and spruced up my wardrobe a bit, buying a sort of teddy or bustier with garters for the old-fashioned black stockings I thought might set the mood. I have had a long luxurious bath now and dabbed my favorite perfume everywhere you can think of and maybe a couple you haven't thought of. Just in case this does go further than a few hands of poker!
Slipping my breasts into the cups of the bustier, I began to feel a little bit seductive and then had the old misgivings. "Oh, what the hell," I said to myself, "what have you got to lose at your age anyway?" I tugged a bit and got the garment fastened and looked at myself in the mirror, bending over to see what the view was going to be. "Not bad, old girl," I said aloud, admiring the cleavage the little bit of padding gave me. As I readjusted them in the cups, I noticed that my nipples had hardened a little.
Holding up the Christian Dior stockings, I could see that they were deliciously sheer. I slipped the first over my foot and then pulled it evenly up my thigh and pulled it up snug. I straightened the leg for an admiring glance and was glad to see that it looked pretty good, if I had to say so myself.
I was just pulling on the other thigh when Jeff came to the door to see if he should open the wine. I teasingly opened the door and slipped one leg through like they do in the movies. "Wow, holy cow, Gram, you're going to be a smash. Can I see the rest?" he said rather eagerly.
"Here now, young man, this is your grandmother you are talking to, mind your manners," I chided.
Jeff's friends rang the doorbell and I realized that there were three of them, and that Jeff intended to be the fourth active partner in this party. Probably I knew that all along but had not faced up to it before.
I slipped into my new black panties and slid them up my thighs and felt the silkiness of them over my buns and the way they fit snugly over my pussy. I sprayed a little perfume there. I slipped into the skirt and blouse I planned to wear, slipped into my heels and with one glance in the mirror; I boosted my breasts once and headed down to my dates for the evening.
Luckily I liked the young men that Jeff had invited. Billy was a black boy I had met before, tall and handsome with charming manners. Ted was a bit brash, good-looking with a lot of talk, and his young brother Eddie, who looked a little out of place with the older boys.
We did, in fact, play a game of strip poker while we were getting better acquainted over a few glasses of wine. I lost my shoes fairly quickly and then my skirt. The boys were complimentary as I slipped the skirt slowly down my legs and stepped out of it. I affected a little bump and grind to their cheers. Billy lost steadily until he was totally nude and the others didn't seem to be very good players either. As my blouse joined the pile on the table, I noticed my breasts were getting a lot of appreciative attention.
At this point, we changed the game a little. The boys decided that since they were out of clothes that the bets should be for touching, feeling, licking various parts of the loser's body. They all agreed that girls are more interesting in their underwear than nude anyway, so they wanted to enjoy me in my black undies. Jeff had the low hand and I had the high hand, meaning that he had to fondle my choice of my body part to receive attention. I was starting to like this game.
Starting slowly, I said "OK, Billy, I want some tender fondling of my panty-covered tush and hips."
"Ah, my pleasure, ma'am." With this, he took my hand and brought me to my feet, began slowly and gently fondling me. Starting with his hands on my waist, he moved around to lightly brush my panty-covered ass with his fingertips. His hands were wonderful as he expanded the caress to involve his whole hand, which eventually cupped my buns as I watched his cock rise to full staff in front of me.
I stared at the nice purple head of his cock emerging from under his black foreskin. Billy was not circumcised and I wondered if that would feel different, since I had never had the pleasure of a man like that. It isn't very attractive, I do think, but the bulbous head looks nice when it finally is exposed.
"Does the winner get to touch whatever she sees that she likes?" I joked.
His voice was tense as he answered "anything you want is fair, Gram." He thrust himself closer and my hand surrounded the largeness of his cock and slowly began moving back and forth.
"Ummmn, he moaned. That's great." His hands moved around to the front of my panties and his fingers sought their way under the tightness of the elastic in the legs.
I could feel his nails trail down, just touching the hair of my pussy on both sides of my panty legs, and my hand tightened on his cock, pulling it closer to just touch the silkiness of my panties where they tented over my mound. I could feel that I was already beginning to get wet between my legs.
"Time for another hand, you two!" Ted interrupted. "There are other players here, you know?"Reluctantly, we resumed our seats, and I retained my grip on Billy's lovely black cock for a moment longer under the table, then reluctantly let it spring back to its vertical erect position pointing skyward under the table.
"Whose deal?" I managed to choke out. My panties were sopping wet wedged there between my thighs. I could feel the snaps of the teddy there against the lips of my pussy as I crossed my legs.
Ted won the next hand and elected to have his cock sucked by the favorite loser (ME). He took his position in a soft armchair.
"Billy, how about continuing your attention to my ass while I attend to Ted? I don't think we took enough time on our turn, did we?" I was feeling fairly mischievous and getting comfortable with the pleasures of the game.
"God, you get the best ideas." He smiled enthusiastically. I was starting to like this smiling, tall black boy.
Teddy was very nice too, it turned out, waiting patiently staring at my tits with his nice medium-size dick sticking up like a poker from his lap. I leaned on the arms of the chair as I admired that sweet young dick staring up at me. Taking it in my left hand, I massaged it slightly as it hardened even more under my warm hand.
Teddy was tense, and I encouraged him to relax. "It's okay, don't be embarrassed, sweetheart, just relax and enjoy." I settled into the chair a little more. "Oh, you have such a nice big dick, Teddy, I want to kiss it, my little lamb, is that what you want?"
"Yeaahh," his voice was raspy and huskier than normal. I don't think he had had much experience. It was nice to have this chance to teach him with the tenderness I felt. I kissed the tip of his cock, flicking my tongue lightly over the split tip of it. His pre-cum juices tasted sweet but slightly salty, and his male scent met my nostrils.
"Oh, Billy, that feels so nice when you fondle my buns, keep it up, baby."
"You got it, momma. I love the feel of your panties over your hips." I could feel that he had moved closer so that his huge cock was pleasantly leaning against the split of my ass, feeling the silkiness of my panties over the softness of my buns.
Turning my attention to Teddy, I brought my lips down around the sweet bulbous head of his cock, letting the tightness of my lips pop over the ridge of his glans. He surged deeper with a little thrust of his hips, and he slipped deep into my mouth. I circled his balls and the base of his cock with my hand.
"Oh, my god, he murmured, this is so good, give me more, baby." I was glad to oblige. His young cock was smooth, long, and tasted good. The heat of it was deliciously sensual against my tongue as I circled it with my wetness.
Jeff had pulled aside the crotch of my panties and had discovered my wetness there between my thighs. His finger explored. I spread my thighs a little to make it easier for him to continue his exploration. As I gulped Teddy's cock, I felt that huge dick of Jeff's between my legs, nuzzling the wetness of my cuntal lips. The feeling of having two men was new to me. I found it wonderful. It's shocking, I know, but I suppose it is obvious that two would be even better than one, and I can now testify to the pleasure of it all.
One hot dick deep in my throat and one very large and very hot one between the lips of my pussy, sampling the wetness of my juices. Wow. Billy's uncircumcised dick was just gently sliding between the lips of my pussy, parting them and then letting them return as he pulled out in the other direction.
I could imagine but not feel the effect the seesawing motion would be having on the foreskin as it slipped back and forth over his bulging knob.
Jeff's hand reached between my legs and unsnapped the crotch of my bustier. My mouth intensified its enjoyment of Ted's cock as the excitement mounted in my loins as my black silky panties slipped down over my hips and were slipped down my legs by a third set of hands helping Jeff. I moved my legs to allow them to slip them off more easily and then stepped out of them. Billy quickly slipped his cock into my eager pussy. It felt so good to have my cunt being stretched to accommodate a man again after so long.
His cock felt hot as he thrust what felt like the entire length into me. I could feel its tip bump against my cervix. Apparently sensing that he was a little big for me, he seemed to go slowly and carefully, making a number of delightful in-and-out strokes to my great pleasure. I could feel my juices lubricating this huge battering ram of a cock and feel them make my thighs slightly wet and sticky. Mmmmn, delightful.
"Oh, I said, maybe we better stop for a breather, boys, I don't want this to end too soon. You're wonderful lovers, you know. I love your beautiful bodies and especially these lovely cocks you brought along for me!"
"I'm for that," sighed Teddy, "this is the greatest! You're the greatest!!!!"
"Well, since you mention it, I won't deny that I'm good at sucking the best out of a good man's dick! I've always been partial to it! And, it's nice of you to say it. I like the taste of you, you know?" We settled for another drink and another hand of poker. What could be next, I thought.
My stomach started cramping up from holding back on my orgasm, but being so close to having my first one. The pleasure of all this was really deliciously exciting, so I was holding back to extend the enjoyment. I got everyone another glass of wine, and the boys each fondled my nyloned legs or put their arms around me low on my hips so they could enjoy the softness of my ass on their bare arms.
The youngest one, Eddie, had not said or done much other than look, so far, so I decided to try to make him more comfortable. Sitting on his lap and giving him a wet French kiss.
"Oh, I think you liked that, eh?" I smiled. Bringing my lips to his again was met with his tongue fencing with mine, and I moved my ass against his little cock. I could feel the nervous excitement as he tried to nearly swallow my tongue.
"Eddie, would you like to try that tongue out on my other lips? I'd really like you under the table between my legs while we play the next hand. What do you say?"
He was a nice kid. He eagerly agreed, though he was feeling a little embarrassed in front of his friends. Knowing how men like our panties, I slipped into a pair of black lace ones and dabbed my bush with a little more perfume.
Then, I led him by the hand, and he ducked under the table amid the cheers of the rest of us. As I sat down, spreading my legs, I could feel his hands tentatively sliding along my thighs and then the back of his knuckles as he touched the panties covering my pussy.
Then his breath was on my pussy. I could feel his nose bump into my mound as he found his way to my cunt for the first time. His tongue tentatively tasted my bush through the lace and then found its way around the elastic to my lips. He was off target to one side at first, but soon was licking his way along the wet slit between the generous folds of my waiting cunt.
He pulled my panties aside and held them firmly out of his way as his tongue spread my juices all over my cunt lips and his own lips and face. I guided him to the erect clit at the center of my body and pressed his face deep into my cunt. He got the idea, and his tongue was magic in its excited eagerness to please. He swirled my engorged and sensitive clit around and around as if he couldn't get enough of it.
I clamped my thighs tightly against the sides of his head as the next hand was dealt up on the tabletop. I was having a little trouble concentrating on the game, but it was exciting, exciting, exciting. Eddie continued to attack my clit and then moved down a little, and I felt him striving to slip his tongue deeper into my love hole. I was close to cumming. I pushed his head down a little lower, and his bewildered tongue touched the bud of my asshole. My juices were following him down, and my asshole was soon bathed in wetness, too. After his initial surprise, Eddie seemed to like licking it too, and he ringed my hole again and again as he squeezed my nyloned thighs with his hands.
"Oh, oh, I'm, I'm cumming, oh, cum, oh, ooh..."
Suddenly there was no holding back, I was cumming wildly. My body shook and shuddered, the electric thrill starting in my chest and coursing down through the rest of my body. I spasmed again and again, and my legs clamped around poor little Eddie and nearly squeezed the breath out of him. He kept licking gamely, though, and my body slowly subsided from its extreme high tenseness into a complete and warm relaxation.
"Better than I have had in years, sweetie," I moaned. I pulled him up between my legs and hugged him to my breasts. On his knees, his cock was buried against my pussy, as hard as could be.
"Oh, my," I said, "I should return the favor, shouldn't I? Look how hard you have gotten. Come on, baby, let me help you with that."
Taking him to the living room, I had him lie on his back. "Now you are going to feel as good as you just made me feel, okay?"
He nodded enthusiastically. Straddling his slight body and still not full-grown cock, I lowered myself onto him. He was small, but that made it a little more exciting to feel that little cock sliding into my cunt. I wanted to make him feel very good and tightened the muscles of my pussy as much as I could. He was going crazy under me. I think he was afraid to move, so I got to do all the work. I played with his little cock, moving my pelvis in a circle with his prick in the center. My juices made us both slippery and wet and warm. He slipped out of my tunnel, and I reached between us and played with it, rubbing it just a little bit against my wet slit, careful not to bring him off just yet. He was not large, but he was long enough to be entertaining.
"How's that feel, honey?" I whispered hoarsely.He answered with a gasped "yes," and I pulled my bra cups down so he could play with my breasts. His hands roamed eagerly over the ample flesh. I guided him to pinch my nipples a little as I pressed my cunt forward against the length of his cock. Clamping tighter, I raised my ass a little higher and gave his cock some tight, hard thrusts. He arched his back and pushed into me as his sperm was ready to rush out. Three or four more thrusts, and I felt his sperm shooting out into my cunt and then slipping out along his shaft. I pressed against him, holding onto his softening little cock, draining the last bit of pleasure and juice out of it.
I released it slowly from the muscles and lips of my cunt and felt the pleasure of the semi-hard shaft slipping wetly out of my happy pussy. Eddie was smiling and scratching his head fiercely the way men sometimes do after a "good piece of ass," I thought modestly. I wonder what causes their scalp to itch when you rub the other end of their bodies!?
After serving another glass of wine, I slipped upstairs to freshen up a little bit. My stomach was still a little crampy in spite of the good orgasm, so it felt good to go to the bathroom and let my water flow. I really felt good, relaxed and enjoying the pleasures the boys were giving me.
And also the pleasure I was obviously giving them. They were all so cute and excited. With my foot up on the stool, I washed myself with a warm cloth, cleaning all the sticky juices and sperm from my thighs and then gently parting my pussy lips and washing it very gently. I was still tingling, and the slight roughness of the cloth made my clit bristle with the expectation of more pleasure to come.
I slipped on a fresh pair of panties for the boys to take off and dabbed a little perfume on my mound. Another dab between my breasts and a little behind my knees, and I was ready for another round of card playing revelry.
They greeted me as a queen alighting from a carriage and escorted me to a large easy chair for my throne. They had decided that I should be worshipped on my throne and that the chief medicine man would be Billy, whose cock was swollen and stood out with a youthful hardness. He had started it off this evening with his nice caresses and much-needed fondling of my ass and had been patiently waiting ever since. I thought he was likely to be a very good medicine man and admired the bulbous head of his cock. I could imagine what it was going to feel like as it filled me up completely. Billy was the largest of the boys, in stature as well as having the largest cock.
Fondling his balls, I said, "This looks like it could hurt someone! It's so big and beautiful. I'm sure you'll be gentle, eh, Billy?"
He smiled with pride at my praise. His black skin emphasized the whiteness of his teeth. I thought, "This is another first for me, having a black cock inside me." The old myth about black being better and much larger came to mind. Well, if there is any truth to the size stories about black men, certainly Billy was not going to let it down. His cock looked truly beautiful, and I kissed it on the underside near the end. His glans stood out from the shaft, smooth and glistening. The ridge around his cock head was deep and gave a strong delineation, which was beautiful and exciting. It looked like it would feel wonderful sliding into my waiting cunt. Luckily, I could feel myself getting wet already as my tongue slipped up over the head of Billy's cock, and my lips closed around it for just a moment. His sharp intake of breath warned me that I should not linger, or his ejaculation would be premature.
"The queen is happy with this reception and ready for the ceremony!" I smiled as I slipped low in my throne and waited for his friendly invasion. Billy knelt between my legs and sniffed the mixture of my scent and my perfume steaming up from my warm, panty-covered pussy mound. His lips were pressed against the flatness there between my legs where my pussy awaited him. His nose rested over the ledge of my mound. His finger slipped along the elastic of my panties and found its way into my cunt. He lingered a moment and then began slipping my panties down my legs and off. He laid them close at hand, "I want to smell those some more a little later. You have a wonderful scent," he murmured. They had turned the lights a little lower, and Billy's assistant, grandson Jeff, stood at attention with his erect penis awaiting my command.
Billy moved closer and helped me slide down into the chair to meet him. My ass was on the edge of the chair cushion, and my head was against the back of the chair as I waited for my punishment or my treat, or perhaps both. Handling his cock gently, Billy rubbed that beautiful, bulbous cock head against my clit, moved it down so that it opened the lips of my pussy and then down past the tunnel of my cunt. My juices were flowing with excitement and pleasure. His cock head was well lubricated now, and I could see it peek out above my pussy hair as he made his upward movement, teasing my clit into erect excitement. My juices glistened on his cock head and about a half inch of the shaft of his magnificent instrument.
At last, he slipped inside, taking my breath away for a moment as the head of it popped in against the slight resistance of the muscles of my cunt. It slid easily, but it was stretching me with its girth, too. Lord, he was a big boy, no doubt. I squirmed a little for comfort as the wonderful invader made its way forcefully and persistently down the wet, hot channel of my cunt. His cock felt very hot as it slid in, and I melted with the pleasure of it. It seemed to be filling me up entirely and stretching my cunt and exploring every crevice and fold of my vagina as it straightened it out with its length.
I felt the cock head touch my cervix, but the pleasure was so great that I found myself straining to get him in deeper. The bristle-like hair of his mound now found the protecting hair of my pussy mound. His breath came in excited jerks in my ear as he rammed himself against me.
I spread my legs even wider to welcome the sensation of his body touching the sensitive concavities in my thigh muscles which lie on either side of my pussy when my legs are spread at their widest. His warm, smooth body nestled against me, trying to find a perfect, complete contact.
He was so warm and lovely, it was a nice contrast to the searing heat of his cock or the searing feeling that his largeness caused as he stretched me to receive his entire cock.
He had stopped to enjoy being all the way inside my passage and probably to avoid coming too soon. This I appreciated. I clamped my legs around his back to hold him in and to gain leverage to tighten my muscles around the tubular length of his cock.
I could feel it better as I alternately squeezed and relaxed around him. I could tell that it felt very good to him because of the way it felt to me. It was like having a very high-quality leather glove tight on your hand.
The pleasure is a sensual one, too, as this one certainly was. The snugness of the glove makes you aware of the shape of your hand and fingers, and it grips you in the same way I was feeling about this large, lovely shape in my pussy.
I squeezed him more and more, and then squeezed hardest as I felt him begin to slide out to begin thrusting. I could feel the head of his dick as it made its way until it was close to leaving me, and then as it was thrust hard back into me, pushing the folds of me out of its way in its eagerness to be satisfied with pleasure and release. Billy was not in control anymore, he was just thrusting in and out mostly by instinctive need for the tactile pleasure of the penis inside a warm, welcoming cunt. Eagerly ramming in and out, pulling more of my juices with it.
He was covered with my juices, I could tell from the feel of his cock, and soon from the feel of his belly sticky and wet against the entry to the heavenly heat he was seeking.
As he was thrusting, I sensed the cock of his assistant nearby and took it in my hand and squeezed it as my pleasure continued to swirl around inside my body.
I don't think I have ever before had such a feeling of joy and physical pleasure. As his cock rammed into me again and again, I had multiple orgasms starting with one big one which coursed through my body from my clit up to my throat and back again and then a series of little shivering things which made me tremble to the luscious stimulation of my pussy and my clit.
The young body pounding against my clit in its vulnerable, moist little chapel was a sheer delight. I was too young and inexperienced to have enjoyed it in this way when I was their age. That excitement was more the fumbling type, while now I was able to help these inexperienced, eager young men play a magnificent symphony of pleasure on my eager body. It was heaven, for sure.
Billy was now completely spent, of course. He had lasted pretty well for such a young man, and he had given me unbelievable pleasure with his wonderful thrusting. Now his juice was slipping out of my limp cunt muscles. Those same taut muscles which had hugged his cock and played with it, and massaged it, and most of all had felt for my pleasure.
In a real sense, I had been "feeling him up" with those lovely muscles for the same kind of pleasure that men get in "feeling up" our breasts, I guess. I slipped my hand between our bodies as he began to pull out and gripped him one last time and felt the joyous combination of our juices there between us. Coating his body completely and now seeping sensuously down my thighs.
"Billy, you were wonderful," I said to him, meaning it with all sincerity. "You are a very good lover, you know!"
"Ohhhh, so are you, lady, so are you!" It was a nice compliment, and I think he meant it, too.Jeff, sensing that I was getting a little tired, started cleaning up the table, and his friends helped. "I think it's time to hang it up, guys. What do you say?" They were all pretty worn out as they got back into their clothes.
"Wow, what a night," Little Eddie smiled. "Thanks for everything." I hugged him to my breasts and told him good night. "Can we come back again, sometime?"
I smiled back, feeling genuinely tender at the pleasure he had given me, too. "Of course, sweetheart, I think we should do this again sometime if Jeff will let us!"
Jeff was just finishing the table. "Hey, I'm Mr. nice guy here, I got left out of everything!!! When do I get my turn?"
"Jeff, you're my Grandson, after all!!!!" I protested with mock horror.
But in my heart, I secretly wanted to hold him close and teach him. I had noticed how lean and wonderfully strong he looked as he lost hand after hand. "I wonder," I thought, as we closed the door behind the boys and I felt Jeff's arm around my waist...
End of Chapter One
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May Be Continued Later If Any Interest Is Expressed | 4 |
6,472 | Pidge's Story | "You're sure," Mary asked Pidge, "you don't mind if I don't kiss you?"
Pidge shook her head no. "It's Ben's present. We're both here for him. The point is that he has a good time."
"Oh," said Mary. "What if he wants us to--you know?"
Pidge smiled. "You politely avoid the issue by sucking his cock."
Mary laughed. "Brent and I did it with Simon once, but they were more interested in each other than in me."
"Ben's different," Pidge said, tucking a lock of purple hair behind her ear as she checked the clock in the kitchen. It was 11:55. Ben was supposed to arrive at noon, but the bus from campus was notoriously unreliable. Pidge poured Mary another champagne-and-orange-juice to calm her down.
"He looks cute," Mary said, shifting on the stool. "What about after?"
"After?"
"A threesome with another woman? It changes stuff. The relationship." She took a sip of her drink. "You're dumping him, right?"
Pidge sighed. "Yes." It was 11:58.
"Will you quit looking at the clock already? You're making me nervous. If he's so great, why are you dumping him?"
Because, thought Pidge. Because you're his age and I'm not. Because his enthusiasm will drive me mad. Because I've had fun teaching him about sex, but now he expects every day to be exotic, erotic, and marvelous. Because I don't want to invest the time to remake his image of me, she thought, and hated herself for it. "Because it's time to be alone for a while," she told her friend, knowing that was an acceptable answer.
"Oh," said Mary. She sipped again from her champagne glass. Pidge knew she would be fine once Ben arrived. Pidge knew that Ben would treat her well. And that was another because: because Ben held no more surprises for her. She knew what to expect from him, and from Mary. She knew they would be fine together.
There was a knock at the door. It was exactly noon. Pidge touched her hair again -- it had been purple only for a week -- and opened the door.
Ben stood there, neatly dressed in a sport shirt and gray slacks. His brown hair was still damp from showering. Pidge noticed he had an erection; already, she thought, and smiled. This would be fun.
Ben looked disappointed when he saw Pidge was not alone. Pidge almost laughed but smothered it because a young man's ego is a fragile thing. His erection was wilting. She stepped aside to let him into her tiny apartment and then said, "Ben, Mary. Mary, Ben. Champagne and orange juice, Ben?" Ben followed her through the kitchen into the bed-sitting-room.
"Uh," said Ben, and then, "Yes, please," and then, finally, clumsily, "It's, uh, nice to meet you, Mary."
Mary lifted her eyebrows and looked at Pidge.
"Are you disappointed to see me, Ben?" asked Mary. Her voice had dropped half a register and become husky. She stared at him over her champagne glass until he blushed and looked away. Her eyes were dark with gold flecks. She changed position on the stool to emphasize her large breasts.
"Close your mouth, dear," said Pidge as she poured his drink. "Flies will get in." Ben shut his mouth.
"I don't mean disappointed to see me specifically, of course," said Mary. "You don't even *know* me. You would have been disappointed to see *anybody,* right, Ben?"
"No," he said. "No, I just-- I just--" He took the glass from Pidge. "Is this mine?"
Mary sighed heavily. "You wanted to be alone with our Pidge," she said sadly.
"No," Ben protested lamely, trying to smile. "I just wasn't expecting... Look, I can come back later--" He took a deep draught from his glass.
"You're squandering it," said Pidge. "Drink it slowly." She sat on the edge of the bed to watch. Ben was trying, but Mary had blindsided him and he wasn't getting a chance to recover. While his attention was focused on Mary, Pidge permitted herself a tiny smile, ready to lose it if Ben looked her way. As she watched, she twisted her finger in the ribbon that tied her blouse.
"No, no, I understand. You wanted to be alone with Pidge, probably for some immoral purpose--"
"No, no--" Ben protested.
"Well, what's wrong with you?" Mary demanded. "I'd do immoral things with Pidge. She's quite attractive, if you like them tall and thin." She frowned as though she'd thought of something shocking. "You're not a breast man, are you?"
Ben stopped suddenly. "What?"
"Oh, Pidge, don't tell me you were trying to convert another big boob man. You're supposed to call me for those." She said to Ben, "I'm her stunt tits."
The women waited, and there was a moment of silence before Ben laughed heartily. Pidge let herself laugh too, and Mary grinned.
"Happy birthday, Ben," said Pidge, and they toasted him.
"Thank you. I wasn't sure what was going to happen for a moment, there."
"Neither was I," said Mary. "Pidge assured me you'd be a gentleman, though." She giggled. "'I could come back later, though--'"
"*I* had faith in you, Ben," Pidge said. She leaned against one of the big silk cushions on the bed. "Turn over the coffee table." The coffee table was a huge overturned enamel washtub she'd painted and stenciled, and which usually hid her dirty laundry.
"Ah," said Ben. "My present is to sniff your used underwear." He smiled. Pidge loved to see him smile. "I'm game."
"If she's not gamey," said Mary.
"Even if," said Ben.
Mary said to Pidge, "Oooh, he *is* chivalrous."
When he turned over the washtub, half a dozen helium-inflated condoms floated to the ceiling, trailing crepe streamers. "Now we have a party atmosphere," said Pidge. She smoothed the skirt around her legs and leaned on one elbow to look at him. "It's time for you to unwrap your present."
Ben looked at her and then at Mary, and then back at Pidge. Delicately he said, "I'm not sure where to begin."
Pidge tugged at the bow on her blouse. "With the ribbon, of course."
Ben sat in the crook between her thighs and her body, and touched the ribbon. Instead of pulling it, he gently kissed her mouth. They kissed again, with increasing hunger. On the next kiss, her tongue touched his and she pulled away. "Go on," she said. He pulled on the ribbon. Her blouse fell open, exposing her small breasts. Ben gave each nipple a careful, damp kiss.
From beside him, Mary cleared her throat. When Ben looked up, her blouse was already off. Her large breasts were remarkably firm: Pidge thought of them as magazine breasts. Mary said, "Union rules. That's to be done to the stunt tits."
"All right," said Ben, "but we may need several takes." Pidge leaned back to watch. Evaporation made her nipples cool and erect. The sun through the sheer curtains was warmed her feet.
"All takes and no give," said Mary to Pidge, "that's the problem with these men," but there was no anger in it.
Ben settled Mary on the stool beside the bed so he could reach both women. "Now," he said, "I believe it went like this." He kissed each of Mary's fat brown nipples.
"No," said Mary. "You took hers farther into your mouth."
"Like this?"
"Mmmm. And I think I saw you bite them. Gently!" She closed her eyes as his teeth scraped across the surface of each nipple.
Pidge stroked her own swollen nipples as she watched Ben alternate between Mary's breasts. Mary's shoulders sagged as she finally relaxed. Ben's slacks looked tourniquet-tight across the ridge of his erection. Pidge could feel the heat of his body through her skirt, against her thighs and crotch. Her pussy was already heavy, full and prickly-aware.
After a few minutes, she gently stroked the nape of his neck. He pulled away from Mary and glanced sheepishly at her as if to apologize. "Shh," Pidge told him. "Nothing to be sorry for. It's your birthday." He leaned forward and gave her a full-throated kiss, his lips warm, soft and slippery.
Mary reached around him and unbuttoned his shirt.When his back was bare, she scratched her fingernails along his spine. He broke the kiss and arched his back, rubbing his head against Mary's shoulder like a cat. Ben was always eager to be touched, anywhere.
"Excuse me," said Pidge. "I believe you were busy." She squeezed her breasts once to emphasize them.
"Sorry," said Ben, grinning. He returned to her breasts, licking and sucking them as she had taught him. Her breasts were hard with passion, and each flick of his tongue and each press of his fingers increased the heavy pressure in her pussy. She knew -- and he knew -- that she could come from this alone, a quick bright orgasm that would bring some relief but end nothing. Behind him, she saw Mary smiling, cupping her own breasts, and then Pidge closed her eyes as she came like the spasm of a copper spring released in the sunlight.
When she opened her eyes again, Ben was kneeling before Mary, holding her wrap-around skirt as Mary turned slowly, unveiling herself. It wasn't fair, thought Pidge, that Mary's breasts didn't sag at all, or that her legs were sculpted by years of swim meets. And though she knew that Mary might have been designed from Ben's adolescent fantasies, his obvious lust for her didn't seem fair, either.
Now Mary's bare hip was visible, now her muscular buttocks and the dimples flanking the base of her spine, now her other hip and smooth thigh, and finally the tightly-trimmed bar of brown pubic hair above her fleshy vulva. Ben dropped the skirt and slid his palms up the outsides of her legs, ankles to hips, his thumbs resting on the ridges of her hipbones. He kissed those ridges and then stood up, his hands still on her hips. Mary stood only as tall as his eyes. Pidge was taller.
"Excuse me," he said, "but there are some things I like to know about a woman before I go too far." With a pang, Pidge remembered him once saying something similar to her. It had been dark, and she'd ordered him into bed, this bed--
Mary looked up at him, her eyes half-closed. "Such as?"
Ben kissed her, and Pidge remembered that, too. That kiss had been a seduction by itself; it moved from delicious flirtation and promise to arousal and intimate knowledge. She watched Mary wrap her arms around Ben...and then Mary melted against him, thighs, hips, breasts, and lips. Her nails raised red tracks as her hands slid loosely down his back until they reached his slacks.
Ben stepped back and Mary sighed gustily. She looked over at Pidge and nodded. "Okay," she said. "Okay."
Pidge said mildly, "Ben, I think she'll need a moment to recover." Then she grinned. "I'd like to help you with your fashion problem."
Ben looked down and laughed. His gray slacks showed two damp stains, one small one at the end of his cock and a larger one on his thighs where Mary had pressed against him.
He crossed in front of Pidge. She leaned forward and touched her tongue-tip to the larger stain. "I like the way she tastes, Ben."
Ben gently stroked her cheek. "Let me taste." He bent to kiss her; as they kissed, she unfastened his slacks.
"Umm," he said. "Very nice. Goes well with the taste of you, too--" Mary tugged down his slacks and underpants; there was the sound of his stiff cock slapping against his belly, he grabbed Pidge for support but she wasn't expecting it, and he fell forward onto her as she rolled backward.
"Oh my god," said Mary. "You okay?"
"I think so," said Pidge.
Ben laughed into Pidge's hip. "Oh, the elegance!" he said as he rolled over. He kicked his legs once; his legs were tangled in his slacks. His shoe heels thumped on the floor. Pidge smiled. Mary grinned sheepishly.
Ben took his erect cock in one hand and waggled it at them. "I hope it's not broken." He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks and slacks. "I'm sorry, this is such a lovely gift, you're both lovely," Ben told them. "I want desperately to fuck you both, and to be worthy of your loveliness." He shook his head. "But I don't think I can be dainty about this."
Pidge said, "You talk too much." She pulled her skirt up about her waist and straddled his head.
"Yum," he managed to say before she had adjusted herself over his mouth. Then he began to lick her, teasing her anus, sliding his tongue over the sensitive skin, then poking his tongue into her cunt. His nose brushed against her damp labia, tickling her.
Mary whispered into Pidge's ear, "I like him."
"Good," said Pidge softly. Ben was gently stroking the length of her lips as he licked her. "Oh, good," she said again, more loudly. She began to relax, to let the orgasm build, fluttering, in her belly.
Beneath her, Ben grunted once in surprise and his tongue stopped. Mary had taken his cockhead in her mouth. Pidge felt a momentary twinge of something -- irritation? anger? -- that Ben had been interrupted, but he kept on, now with one finger gently in her ass and his tongue flicking her clit. She began to roll her hips against Ben, encouraging him, timing it as if pumping a swing, building the orgasm. Mary's head bobbed on Ben's cock. It would be a shame, Pidge thought, if Ben came so soon, oh-- She closed her eyes again, feeling it grow--
The bed shifted slightly and the rhythm changed slightly and her orgasm slipped away. Behind her, Mary was humming something. It was almost a tune, almost recognizable and finally in irritation Pidge had to abandon her orgasm to listen and watch, kneeling stock-still over Ben with her legs knotted beneath her.
Ben had stopped licking her, too; he had moved his hands near Mary's head, as though wanting to guide her but afraid she would stop. Mary held nearly all of Ben's cock in her mouth, and Pidge was vaguely envious that she could deep-throat it at that angle, for that long. Mary took the last inch of his cock into her throat, still humming.
The shaft of Ben's cock shone as Mary pulled her head up. "--hmmmhmmmHMMMMhmmmhmmmhmmm--" She finally dropped it from her mouth to sing "--happy birthday to youuuuu!" Mary brushed at the string of saliva that connected her to Ben's cock and grinned up at Pidge. Beneath Pidge, Ben laughed, gusting air on Pidge's pussy, and Pidge suddenly remembered why they were there, and felt ashamed of her irritation.
Pidge grinned back and said, "You know you can't sing."
Ben poked Pidge's ass with his tongue and then said, "She didn't need to be on tune for that." He clutched her thighs and sucked her clit hard, scraping the sensitive nub across his teeth. It was as sudden and unexpected as lightning, and she came with her eyes wide open, staring at Mary's breasts. When she could move again, Pidge rolled off Ben, feeling shy, vulnerable, exposed. She hugged a pillow to her chest.
Beside her, Mary stroked Ben's cock; it twitched at every touch, like a nervous horse. She looked at Pidge and said softly, "May I?" Ben groaned. Pidge nodded, still unable to speak. Mary lifted her hips and plunged down, greedily stuffing her cunt with Ben's cock.
Pidge watched as Mary enthusiastically fucked him, her breasts bouncing. Mary grunted with every thrust; her grunts came closer, and the bed, Pidge's bed, bounced faster until Mary moaned, and then Ben groaned himself and said, "Stop -- unless you want to end this right here."
Mary stopped moving. Her belly muscles twitched with unspent energies. "Um. No," said Mary hoarsely.
Raw and naked, Pidge lay silently for a moment, looking at them. She had never come like that before. She had not planned for this. Both Mary and Ben were stretched tight, waiting. Waiting for orgasm. Waiting for Pidge to do something.
Then she made a cheerful voice and said, "Ben, you can't leave her like *this.*" She laid one hand on the small of Mary's back to brace her and reached around. She found the base of Ben's cock and followed it until she had a finger on Mary's clit, meaty and slick. She stroked it lightly, and that was all Mary needed. Mary threw her head back and shuddered as she came.
Ben moaned again. Pidge reached down between Mary's legs and squeezed the base of his cock. "Not yet," she said brightly. "I want some, too."
"Too late," he said.
"Too late?" she asked, surprised.
"Uh-huh," said Ben. "Too late." He grinned. "But I'm young. I'll get over it."
Mary leaned over and kissed Pidge on the mouth. "Thank you." Pidge could smell Ben on her.
"Whoops," said Ben as his softening cock fell from Mary.
"Let me clean that," Pidge said. She took his soft cock in her mouth and cleaned it with her tongue. His come was sharp on the back of her throat. He tasted of Mary now.
She made a loud slurping noise, and Mary laughed. Ben was watching her thoughtfully. He cleared his throat and said, "Is anyone up for Chinese?"
"I love Chinese," said Mary.
Ben grinned at her. "I thought you might. Pidge?"
"Nah," said Pidge. "I just ate." Mary laughed.
"Funny girl," Ben said.
"I have to go to the toilet first," said Mary as she got up. "Ooh, I'm all rubbery. I just don't want to drip come all over my patent leather shoes again."
"Again?" Ben asked.
"Yes, again," she called from the bathroom.
Once the bathroom door was closed, Ben said to Pidge, "So this is the end, is it?"
She sagged. "How long have you known?"
He smiled sadly. "When we all got naked. I've felt it coming on since you colored your hair." He traced a finger along her ribs. Goosebumps followed in the path. She shivered. "You remember that night we talked until four and then you finally told me to get into bed?" She nodded -- the first time they made love. "One of the things you said was that when you needed a change, you started from the outside in: hair, makeup, clothes." He inhaled to say something else, then sighed heavily.
"If you knew, why didn't you do something about it?" she asked.
"Do what?" he asked reasonably. "It takes two people to stay together. Otherwise one is just following."
"But," she began and then stopped. If he had tried something, anything-- but maybe it wasn't in him. Or maybe it wasn't time for him."It must be difficult for you," Ben was saying.
"What?"
"Reading people so well. Knowing what they're going to do, how they're going to react. You've surprised me through all of this, pleasantly, constantly. I'd hate to think I didn't give some of that back to you."
Despite herself, she felt tears welling up. "Sometimes," she told him, "I don't know anybody at all."
He hugged her tight. "Shhh. You'll be okay." His skin was hot and damp against hers.
"I know," Pidge said, "I will," as they rocked together on the bed.
She knew herself that well, at least. | 4 |
6,517 | Closet | "Sheila?" She didn't answer. I'd knocked on their back storm door, but there hadn't been any answer. The door was wide open, so I'd opened the storm door and called her. I knew she had to be around. I stepped into the kitchen and peeked into the living room. "Sheila?" Still no answer. The house seemed deserted.
"Yes."
It was her voice, but for some reason, I felt a little confused. Maybe because she waited so long to answer. It came from their bedroom. I had a twinge of doubt about walking into their bedroom, but she had called. The door was almost shut, and I pushed it open.
I froze in horror! Randy, who was standing in the middle of the bedroom, looked at me in surprise. Sheila was in the closet! She was facing into the closet with her wrists tied to the clothes bar, and she was completely naked! She had a blindfold on and was wearing earphones. Randy, who was fully dressed, held a whip in his hand!
Randy put his finger across his lips, signaling me to keep quiet. Suddenly, I felt more than horror--I was afraid! What was going on here? "Don't talk too loudly," Randy said quietly.
"Randy!" I hissed. I was afraid. I knew Randy pretty well, or thought I did, but this? She never told me he ever hit her. Had he gone off his rocker?
"Cindy, don't panic!" he said. He seemed about to panic himself. I think he was sensing what I was thinking. "Watch this," he went on.
He walked over to Sheila and indicated to me again to keep quiet. I don't know why, but for some reason, I stood there like a statue. He took off Sheila's earphones. "OK, ready to get down?" he asked her.
"Honey, what's the matter?" asked Sheila.
"Nothing," he answered.
"Aren't... you going to do it? Whip me?"
"Let's stop now."
"No! You can't get ready and then just stop! Please?" I couldn't believe what she was saying. Obviously, this was something they did together. I'd never *heard* of such a thing! Well, I'd heard of it, but never knew anyone who'd do it! Sheila and Randy! My own best friend; my next door neighbors! I guess what I never knew was anyone who ever admitted to doing it.
"Please honey? Don't stop," Sheila went on.
"What do you want me to do?" asked Randy.
"Whip me!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, honey! Please! Now!"
"OK, I'm going to whip you. Two times." He shook out the whip. It was small--actually a riding crop. Then he swung it at her, and it smacked her right on the rear. She let out a groan. Then he repeated it, and she groaned again.
"Did you like that?" he asked.
"Yes!"
"Now what do you want?"
"Whip me again! Please!"
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes! Yes, honey, I'm sure. Again!"
He stood there for a second. "Please honey!" she said.
"Would you like someone to... *see* you get whipped?"
"Oh my god!" she answered.
"How would you like me to get Cindy in here to watch? Would it turn you on to have Cindy in here, watching me whip your rear like that?" She didn't answer. "Would it make you wet? To have Cindy see you like this?" She didn't answer.
"Yes." Her voice was small.
"Aha! You just think of Cindy right here, and I'm going to whip you two more times! She's going to watch you groan and beg just like you always do."
"Yes!" He didn't answer but swung the whip around again and whipped her rear again. And again. She groaned some more.
"Did you like that?"
"Yes!"
"What would Cindy think of you, begging to be whipped like that and getting off on it?" She didn't answer, but she was breathing louder and louder. After a little while, he looked at me and spoke again: "How would you like Cindy to take the whip and whip you herself? You'd get off on that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes!" came her breathy answer. He smiled and then reached out and took my wrist. He drew me to where he was behind Sheila. He put the whip in my hand.
"OK, this time think of Cindy holding the whip."
"Oh yes!"
"She sees you like this and is thinking about whipping you herself."
"Oh yes, honey! Yes!"
"You'd better ask her to whip you. Ask Cindy."
"Yes! Please whip me!"
"Ask her again. Beg her." Randy went on.
"Please whip me, Cindy. Please?" Randy took my hand and guided me into hitting her rear with it. It didn't come out nearly as hard as he had done. He nodded to me to get me to do it again myself. I did it.
"Did you like having Cindy whip you?" asked Randy.
"Yes! Harder! Please honey!"
"Cindy's just learning to use the whip. Thank her and ask her again."
"OK. Thank you Cindy! Please whip me again, harder." Randy nodded to me again. I did it again twice. I got better at it and did it harder.
"Was that better?" asked Randy.
"Yes! More, please, more! Harder!"
"Say please to Cindy."
"Please Cindy!"
"You know, I could kiss Cindy while she's whipping you."
"Oh my god!" she answered. He moved closer to me. I stood there--I should have stopped this. I looked up at him. He lowered his face and touched his lips to mine. Then he smiled and nodded. I whipped her again.
"She kisses nice," he said. "Would you like to kiss her?"
"Oh yes!"
"But now she's just going to whip you. You like Cindy whipping you?"
"Yes! Yes!" I whipped her again.
"I think she's beginning to enjoy whipping you. I think I'll unbutton her blouse." What was I getting myself into?
"Yes!" he answered. His fingers started down the buttons of my blouse.
"She must be excited from whipping you. She's letting me do it. Should I strip her naked?"
"Yes!"
"You want Cindy naked?"
"Yes!" He had my blouse off and was taking off my bra.
"Why? Do you like Cindy's body?" He was quietly unbuttoning my jeans!
"Yes!"
"You want to see it?"
"Yes!"
"Well, you won't see it now." I had just panties on, and he slipped them down to my knees! "But she'll be naked while she whips you!" He nodded to me to whip her again. I was getting better, and sometimes she'd groan when I did it.
"How do you like being whipped by Cindy with her naked?"
"Yes! I *love* it!"
"Right here in this room. Naked. Whipping you."
"Yes!"
"Do you want her to whip you some more?"
"Yes!"
"She's naked. What should I do to her now?" He was fingering my nipple. I was going crazy.
"Fuck her!" I almost choked.I couldn't believe she was saying this.
"What?" Randy asked, obviously playing dumb. His hands were roaming down my body. My clitoris. It was hard to remain standing.
"Fuck her! Fuck her good!"
"You want me to fuck Cindy while she whips you?" He'd grabbed a chair and was sitting right next to me! He was unzipping his pants!
"Yes!"
"Why?" His cock was sticking straight up!
"She *needs* it! She *needs* a hard fucking!"
"Your best friend? You want me to fuck your best friend hard?"
"Yes! Yes!" He drew me down onto his lap. I was completely ready. He used his hand to guide his cock right into me.
"You'll have to tell me why. Why does she need it?"
"She... she's such a little sexy thing. She thinks she has it made!"
"You think she's sexy?"
"Yes!"
"Do you look at her body?"
"Yes!"
"Do you want to see her naked?"
"Yes!" My mind was whirling.
"Do you want to lick her cunt?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"Do you want to whip her?"
"Oh god! Yes!"
"I'll have her whip you while my cock is inside her."
"Yes! Fuck her hard! Hard!" He lifted my body up and down, his cock sliding in and out. I was so distracted. But I lifted the whip again and smacked her rear with it. I was much better. Her groans were definitely louder. It seemed to me that she'd come a bunch of times. I couldn't believe it.
"Do you like it when she whips you while I'm fucking her?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"I think she likes my cock inside her."
"Oh my god!"
"You like her whipping you while she has your husband? What do you think of her?"
"Oh god! Fuck her *hard*!"
"She and your husband fucking? You like that?"
"The bitch! Fuck her ass!" He had K.Y. jelly in his hand! He was still inside me!
"You want my cock in her ass?" He had K.Y. jelly on his finger and was probing for my rear!
"Yes! Fuck her in the ass! Hard! Get her good!" His finger had found it and was pushing in! I was still riding his cock and his finger was in my rear! I couldn't believe how excited I was but I'd never had anything there!
"You want my cock in her rear?"
"Yes! Do it good!" His finger pushed further! It was too much! I managed to keep quiet as I came and came.
"You made her come."
"Yes!"
"Would you like her to touch you?"
"Oh god, yes!" Randy lifted me to standing and stood behind me. He guided me close to her. We knelt next to each other right behind her.
"Would you like her to make you come?" He leaned his head next to mine as he talked.
"Yes!" He guided my hand between her legs. My fingers were right on her vagina.
"OK, she's touching you. You like that, don't you?
"Oh god!" She was coming again. I hadn't done much more than just touch her a little. I was in a daze and just did what Randy had me do. Sheila calmed down again and Randy drew me away again.
"Cindy has to go now," he said.
"Oh god!"
"You'd better thank her." He had my clothes and pushed them into my hands. I started getting dressed.
"Thank you!"
"Say 'Thank you Cindy'."
"Thank you Cindy!" I was almost dressed.
"OK, she's going to leave now, then I'm going to put you in bed and fuck you!"
"Yes! Oh god yes!" And he guided me out of the room. The door shut behind me. I slipped out the back door and went back home. I must have sat for an hour in a complete daze.
The next day when I saw Cindy I had trouble keeping from staring at her. The things she said! She was just the same as always but I stammered several times while we talked. Right before she left, she motioned me to come close and whispered in my ear: "Thank you for yesterday." She smiled at me and left. | 3 |
6,538 | Gifts | "Wheee! It's flying!"
"Great, Matthew! Now, run into the wind and let the string out a little."
"Daddy, it's going so high!"
My wife, Donna, had shooed us out of the house so she could take a relaxing hot bath in peace. So, Matt and I were in the backyard, between the house and our now-bare cornfields, taking turns flying a kite. I enjoy watching Matthew; everything is new to him, and every new day gives him something to explore. He's a happy, self-confident kid. He'll be five next month; I just pray that he'll have a safer time growing up than I did.
"Hi! Having fun, aren't you!" Donna had just come out of the house, holding a cup of Ovaltine and another of coffee. I kissed her and took the coffee cup from her, and she went out to Matt.
"Mommy, Mommy, look!"
"I see! May I try it while you have your snack?"
"Here, Mommy!" He gulped down some of the drink. "Thank you." Donna has trained him well. I put my cup down and walked over to them. Donna was holding the stick and swaying in time to the motion of the kite. I stood next to her and curled my arm around her waist, and we turned to each other and kissed.
Looking at Donna, I found it hard to believe that she had spent much of last night ravishing me, sucking me for the first time, letting me rest, and then fucking me from above. She had never been so wanton toward me before. I enjoyed it, but I had to change the way I thought of her.
The night before last, I had told Donna of the my small part in the Second World War, of the fighting in France in the summer of 1944, and of the battles that still fill my nightmares. I also had told her of the one moment of peace I had during those dreadful months, when a sweet French girl welcomed me to her bed, held me, comforted me, and made gentle love to me with her mouth and her body. I told her how, after a terrible nightmare of war, gentle Marie would appear in my dreams to comfort me.
I had worried that Donna would reject me for my faithlessness, both during the war, and in my dreams. Instead, she had acted delightfully wild, doing to me what Marie had done ten years before. I felt as though our marriage had become stronger, and I looked at her with wonder.
"James, I just spoke with June Jordan. Their car is running again, and she's going to bring Chris over to play with Matt."
"I can handle that. Chris is a good kid. Did you hear that, Matt? Chris Jordan's coming over."
"Yay!" Matt took back the kite from Donna and started to maneuver it. While he was occupied, Donna turned back to me.
"Hon, there's a dance at the Legion Hall tonight. The Jordans are willing to have Matt stay there overnight; I'll pack up good clothes for church tomorrow. Is that okay with you?"
"When was the last time we went dancing, Donna?"
"I don't remember. Five years ago, I think. Before we had Matt."
"I think that you're right--we're overdue for a night on the town."
"Do you think we'll remember how to dance?"
"I don't think you ever forget. Besides, you don't have to do much in the slow ones."We stayed on the dance floor, and I noticed Phil and Mary Andersen step onto the floor.
I hadn't realized they were here; Phil took a permanent limp home from Korea along with his Purple Heart, and I could not imagine his dancing much, but here they were. They saw us and waved. I waved back, and I was surprised to see my wife wave back too.
"Donna, I thought you were angry at them. They interrupted our bridge game, and for what?" My voice dropped to a whisper: "So Mary could pay off a side bet by sucking Phil's cock."
"Well, in a way I'm grateful to them. After all, if Mary hadn't done that to Phil, you never would have told me your war story. You would have kept your nightmares and your pains secret from me. How can I help you then?"
"And do you mind my pleasant dreams? Can you forgive me for still thinking of Marie? Are you angry about what happened in France?"
"I don't think there's anything to forgive. She helped you survive a nightmare; I'm glad. And I really can't be angry about what Mary did, not after last night."
"Last night was wonderful. I think we have grown closer to each other, and what was the cause? Phil and Mary's rudeness."
"Yes. However, if they ever do that again on bridge night, I shall be greatly annoyed. James, I'm a bit tired; do you mind if we go now?"
"Of course, darling."
We walked to the door, and then she ran ahead of me to the car and took the driver's seat. I caught up and she opened the passenger door. "Get in," she said.
"Would you please tell me what you're doing?"
"Ten minutes. Just relax, James."
"I don't think I can."
She drove out of town along a route I didn't recognize, and ten minutes later she stopped her car near a side road.
"Do you recognize where we are?"
The moon was three-quarter full, and I looked at the roads in the moonlight.
"No. Wait. That's the road to Grayson's Quarry. Oh, damn."
"That's right. Do you remember the last time you drove me there, to lovers' lane?"
"I try not to remember that day. June 1942. That's when I asked you--"
"You were joining the army the next week, and you wanted 'Something to Remember Me By.'"
"I still remember your slap. Why are you bringing this up?"
"After you took me home, I went up to my room and cried. I thought, 'How could you say that to me?' Mom tried to pry into what happened, but I wouldn't say anything."
"You still married me, though."
"I loved you, you dim-wit. But I was the 'good girl,' and good girls say no."
"And the boys always ask anyway."
"And the boys always ask. Dad worried that you had injured me; he probably thought that you had molested me. He dragged his shotgun out of the closet and was going to go after you, but I managed to stop him. I told Dad that you hadn't touched me, that we had only argued."
"That wasn't quite true. We had kissed."
"I was trying to keep you alive and Dad out of jail. He didn't need to know that."
"They've been cordial to me, and they let you marry me."
"Nobody let me do anything. And people do fight, even if they love each other. I wanted to marry you, and that was that. And they love Matt."
"But, why did you still write me? I never knew why you didn't break the engagement. Many of us got 'Dear John' letters; I was expecting one."
"That's something you never realized about me. I had thought about saying yes. Women get horny too. Especially engaged 19-year-olds."
"Oh. You did say no, however."
"That's how we were raised, dear. You left the next week, and soon all the men my age were gone to the war. I tried to talk to some of the other girls about it, but it wasn't easy."
"Soldiers tell a lot of stories about their experiences with women. Most of them are tall tales, however. But no one ever told stories about his girl. No one ever said that his girl had said 'Yes.' And suggesting that about somebody else's girl would start a fight."
"Well, do you remember Marge Dunbar?"
"Ted's wife? The pharmacist's daughter? Quiet as a mouse?"
"That's right. Well, she said 'Yes' to Ted before Ted joined the Army."
"No. Really?"
"I'm not kidding you. She told me while we sat at the Woolworth's counter waiting for a rainstorm to let up. Of course, she could lift some 'safes' from her dad's desk."
"Oh. Well, I'm glad Ted made it back okay."
"Zoe Carter said 'No' to Miles, and Miles died on Iwo Jima. I think Zoe still regrets that she had said 'No.'"
"And you? Did you regret your decision?"
"Sometimes I did. True, it was the only one I could make. But you were gone for three and a half years! There were many nights when I couldn't sleep because I pined for you so. I'd write you long letters and then tear them up since they wouldn't fit on Victory Mail. I kept every letter you sent me in a scrap book. And I had vague fantasies of what we'd do upon your return and our marriage. I didn't know what sex was all about then."
"Well, do you know now? Is reality better than your fantasies?"
"Frankly, dear, they haven't been for a while. We've coasted for the last few years. We haven't put enough effort into it."
"Last night was great. It was the best ever. But, you're right. I've concentrated on the farm too much, and you concentrated on Matt. So, why are we here?"
"I want to give us a second chance. I want a chance to say 'Yes.'"
"Hearing that, I feel nineteen again."
Donna started the car again and turned onto the Quarry Road. The quarry had gone bust back in the 1880s during a business downturn, and had been left abandoned. It was a place of mystery for all the children of the area, and somehow it also became the rendezvous for teenagers who wanted to get away from home. Since the area wasn't good farmland, there were a few clusters of trees nearby that had not been cleared. Donna drove to one of them and parked.
We kissed and hugged, and I let my hand drift down her body to her breast. She slapped my hand away.
"James, I'm not that type of girl." She had said that to me on that last trip here.
"But Donna, we've been dating for three years, and when the war's over we're going to get married. Please?" That had been my reply.
"James, we're not married yet. We shouldn't do this. It would be a sin." She had said exactly that too.
"Donna, I'm joining the Army next week. I don't know when I'll ever see you again. I might even die in battle. Please, Donna. We love each other. How can it be sinful? You know that song--can I have something to remember you by?" I still kept to our script. This was when she had slapped me and had demanded I take her home. She raised her right hand and made a motion as if to slap me, but she stopped in mid-swing and slowly moved to caress my cheek.
"Yes, James. Let me give you the most precious gift I can give you."
I leaned over and kissed her softly. She returned it more passionately, and then we just kept kissing again and again--soft kisses, sloppy kisses, hard kisses, French kisses, and long kisses that left us breathless. Eventually, we ran out of air and fell away from each other. We looked at each other; Donna's hair had wilted, her makeup had ran, and her dress was all wrinkled, while I needed a shave, my tie was askew, my jacket crumpled, and I needed a new shirt. We couldn't be happier. We both started laughing, dispelling the tension of our memories of twelve years ago. "Let's get in back," Donna said.
We both got out of the car. I went into the back seat right away, while Donna opened the trunk and pulled some things out.
"Donna, what's that?"
"It's a special occasion. I thought we might have some wine. I also thought we might need a blanket."
"You're always so well prepared. Thank you." I took the bottle and corkscrew from her, opened the bottle, and poured it into the two glasses she held. We raised our glasses, and I toasted her: "To gift-givers!" "And worthy recipients!" We sat close to each other, held hands, and finished our glasses. Then, I turned to her and kissed her. She leaned into the kiss, and as she did, I reached behind her and started to lower the zipper of her dress. She hummed her approval.
When I lowered the zipper to its bottom, she leaned away from me and said, "Take off that jacket." I shrugged out of it and threw it to the front seat, and she reached for my collar. She made short work of my tie and quickly undid my buttons. She did the same with my cuffs. I slipped my shirt off and tossed it onto my jacket. She lifted her arms out of her sleeves, and the front of her dress fell down, revealing her brassiere.
"Donna, you're lovely."
"James, you're not bad yourself. There's something I have to ask you, though."
Suddenly, I saw a bright light from outside. "Donna, look." She opened her window a bit and looked out. "James, it's a police car. What will we do?" A man got out of the car and walked over to us.
"All right, now. It's time for you teenagers to go home. I'm going to have a talk with your parents."
"Deputy? George Stone, is that you? You really gave us a shock," said Donna.
"Mrs. Bailey?" He shined his flashlight at me. "James Bailey? What are you doing here?" George was in high school with the two of us. He was a dull drone then, and he's a dull drone now. He was one of those damnable rear-area MPs during the war and came back to become a cop.
"We're acting like teenagers. It's fun. You ought to try it sometime. You're welcome to talk to our parents, though," I said.
"James. Donna. You're acting crazy. You can't stay here. And get some clothes on!"
"We're not hurting anyone, George. Why don't you just leave us be. Are you going to report us?" said Donna.
"Just go home. What's wrong with you?"
"Absolutely nothing. Mind your own business," I said. George shined his flashlight at us again, and then Donna murmured, "I'll fix him." She started to undo her bra.
George gawked, and then he turned around and ran, crying "Jesus!Donna lowered the window all the way, dropped the bra onto the seat, leaned out, and waved at him. "Bye, George! Don't forget to call my mommy!" We heard his tires squeal, and then Donna sat back down.
"Donna, I'm impressed. I would never have envisioned you doing anything so wild, either today or yesterday." I was beginning to get uncomfortable; her breasts were right in front of me, and I started to harden. I wanted to reach for her, to hold her, to feel her, to kiss her, to rip off the remainder of her dress and to take her right away. I didn't, though.
"I think I like being wild. It's more interesting. Do you think he'll ever tell anyone?"
"No. I know the type. He's a coward, and he makes up for it by wearing a gun. He'll never mention us to anyone."
"Well, there's one wild thing I'd like to do now. What do you think Phil's stake in their wager was?"
"Well, if their stakes were comparable, then he would have--Oh!"
"Well, will you? Now? I'd like to know what that feels like."
"I don't know anyone who's done that. Except for Phil, I guess."
"I doubt the Andersens are the only people to do it."
"Well, you were willing last night; it would be ungracious of me if I were to refuse."
"Besides, you might like for me to suck you again."
I nodded. She reached for me and pulled me to her. I kissed her and started to stroke her body; I moved quickly to her breasts. "Lick them," she said. I kissed them and then started to lick and suck on her nipples. She purred. I reached around her and cradled her bottom; I couldn't feel much through her dress and girdle. She whispered, "Undress me." I was reluctant to let go of her breasts, but I pulled back and lifted her dress over her head; it joined the rest of her clothes in the front.
She unsnapped her girdle, and then turned so she lay lengthwise on the seat. I pulled her shoes off and tickled her toes, and then I moved up to her thighs to pull down her nylons. Her scent was heavy in the air; I was a little dizzy. Was this how it would have been twelve years ago?
Her nylons came off, and her girdle followed. Only her panties were left, and I stared. My eyes followed Donna's curves, followed the stretch marks that bearing Matt had given her, and reached her center. Wisps of pubic hair curled above the top of the fabric, while moisture had stained the front. I needed to see what was within.
I had a problem, though. She lay across most of the seat, and I didn't really have room to move. "Donna, I need more room. Should we go home now?"
"Now, James. I need it badly."
"We could go outside." That was brazen of me.
"Bring the blankets." I passed them to her and let her set them up; meanwhile, I pulled off the rest of my clothes. I heard her call for me to hurry, and I did. Of course, I checked first; all four doors were unlocked. And there she was, propped up on her elbows, looking at me in the moonlight, wearing only a thin wisp of pink material. I kneeled by her side and kissed her. "Hurry!"
I moved atop her in our usual position for lovemaking. She sank to the ground, freed her arms, and began to push at my shoulders. I moved back a bit and nuzzled her breasts, and she let me stay just a moment before she pushed again. I left a trail of kisses down her belly, tongued her navel, and then I reached my destination.
I started by kissing her through the fabric. I don't think she could feel my kiss, but she breathed out a "Yes!" just from the sight. I, on the other hand, could feel her and smell her scent. My cock got as hard as ever it did. I kissed her a few times through the panties, but she wanted more. I wanted more.
I reached for the top of the panties and tried to pull them down, but I had some trouble getting them past her buttocks. I didn't want to move away, and finally I just brought my hands to her crotch, grabbed onto the two leg-holes, and tore the fabric apart. A cool breeze washed over us, and she moaned. I bent my head to her.
I could have stayed there forever, just hovering over her and looking at her, but Donna grew impatient. She moved her hands to the back of my head and pushed me closer to her. It was time; I leaned into her and took a tentative lick. I heard a moan in response, so I did it again. She shuddered in response. Her lips began to part like a tulip in bloom. I licked again, this time pushing my tongue between her folds; I heard a "Yes!" in response. My followthrough brought me upward to a little button of flesh, and I swept it with my tongue; I heard a drawn-out "Ohhhh," the pitch rising and then falling. I guessed this was the place to aim.
Not right away, however. Donna had taken the trouble to arrange this; I should make the occasion last. I started circling her cunt, covering the path with kisses. I tongued the outer lips, and she shook. I licked her inner lips, and she moaned. I dipped my tongue into her cunt and moved from side to side, and she closed up her legs, fixing my head in that position. Well, it was as good a place as any to lick. It tasted great; I had worried about that. I was nearly mad with lust, but I resisted the temptation to get up and plunge into her; I just followed her lead.
I don't know how long we stayed like that; I was happy to make her wail with pleasure. She deserved it, after all. After a while, however, I heard her cries slow down and soften. I knew that she was getting stuck short of the peak, and I needed to work fast; I forced my head upward and licked that button I had found earlier. Donna's voice grew louder, and I tried swirling my tongue on her. Donna's voice rang out: "Oh yes! Lick me there! Finger me, finger my cunt! Oh, fuck!" I brought my right hand upward and pushed a finger into her; I heard her call, "Yes, do it hard!" I licked her harder and worked my finger in and out of her, and then I felt her body vibrate. Her voice turned into a wordless cry, she started to pulse around my finger, and then I felt a flood of moisture within her. She fell silent and limp in my arms.
I disentangled myself from her and moved to her side. She lay there quietly, peacefully, but she didn't react when I touched her cheek. She had fainted. "Donna, Donna, wake up," I said softly. She blinked twice, nodded her head, and opened her eyes. I looked down at her with concern, and she called my name weakly.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm just so tired. That took a lot out of me."
"I hope this doesn't happen every time I lick you."
"I wouldn't mind if it did. Oh, I'm not being fair to you."
"That's all right. There's always tomorrow."
"Could you take me home now? I'm just so weak."
I got her to sit up, and then I picked her up and carried her to the back seat. She lay down, and I retrieved the blanket and tucked it around her. She mumbled something I couldn't make out, and then she fell asleep. I put on my underclothes and my pants, checked that we had not left anything outside, and then I drove us home.
I drove slowly because I didn't want to awaken her. I was happy to have pleased her so, but I was also aching for release. It was frustrating, but I would survive. While I was driving, I thought about what we had said and done. I've never heard her talk that way before. She had never been so forceful about sex, never so active. I knew that we would have some interesting times in the future.
I think we were both overly inhibited before this weekend. I worried about repulsing her by requesting things she wasn't familiar with, and she had been trained in being a "good girl," following her husband's lead. Neither of us had brought much imagination to our lovemaking. Perhaps if she had given in twelve years ago, we would not have waited so long to break loose the way we had this weekend, but I doubt it, and it doesn't matter anyway. No one can change the past. But we could make up for lost time.
We arrived home, and I parked outside so the car could air out.
"Wake up, sleepyhead."
"James? Oh, we're home. Thanks."
"Do you need help?"
"I'm okay."
She got out from under the blanket and left the car, only to stand outside my door. I looked at her; she was still naked and still lovely. She opened the door, and I hugged her to me. "Let's go inside. I'm cold." We went inside, and she turned to me. "You dear sweet man. Please sit down." I did, and she knelt before me. "Thank you, James. Thank you for everything." She reached for my fly, and for the second night in a row she took me in her mouth. | 4 |
6,554 | Nothing Much | "Hold still," he says.
My breath stills. My heart hushed, my muscles quivering, I wait.
In the dark I wait.
Unmoving. Bound.
Unsighted. Blindfolded.
Clamped. Thrilling.
Kneeling. A supplicant. I wait.
A touch.
Nothing.
Another touch, this one long enough to feel...
Nothing.
Something. Whispering past my face, and intensely light across my breasts.
Sensation focuses to that indistinct undertone - and it stops.
"Don't move," he says.
A slight moan, a tremble of limbs, I wait.
Anticipating, I wait.
Leaning. Searching.
Silent asking.
Tied, secured.
I wait.
A touch.
Something.
Something sharp. A point, a blade, a... gone.
Nothing.
The whisper, back again.
The point, tracing my breasts.
The whisper, brushing my nipples.
I groan, the sensation flooding me.
Each move, each tremble, changing the ropes' pressure.
Each breath, each heartbeat, moving those low-placed knots.
Sensation building. Thrilling, stimulating, electrifying, moving towards an edge.
Point running down my belly. Whisper across my thighs. Teasing, tormenting, pain-and-pleasure of straining towards a spectre that laughs - then stops.
"Not a muscle," he says.
I cry out. In frustration. In sensuality. In distress. In need.
A hand.
Fingers.
Light across my thighs, then following the ropes towards the willing center, the yearning void, the unfulfilled point of no return.
I spasm. Thrill. Nerves joyous with near-ultimate release, I fall forwards to the pillows. I scream.
He covers me, one hand to my mouth, the other to my gratification. A darkness of desire takes over as the act is completed.
His neighbor asks the next day, "What were you doing to her?"
"Nothing much," he replies. | 4 |
6,566 | Roundabout | "Fuck me!"
The echo, the plea in my wife's voice, the insistent growl of her eager submission, those words excited me hard, almost terrifying me as they cut my soul. I loosened my grip, letting Andrea's golden locks start to slip from the hard knot of my fingers. She moaned low, with a melted wanton glare in her pale blue eyes. I turned to look out the window. A dim reflection stared back at me.
"Is he out there?" I asked softly.
"Who?" Andrea asked, suddenly nervous.
"You're mine," I said, tightening my grip on her hair, drawing her head back. Her mouth opened and her eyes closed.
"Fuck me," she purred.
Eight long years had passed and I had almost forgotten. Almost forgotten that hot summer night when I stepped onto the back porch at my parent's house, weary of the mini-drama that played on the big twenty-four inch television. The stars sparkled as I bathed myself in the serene darkness of the calm before the storm.
A flood of yellow light poured forth in a flash, casting a long geometric shadow over the lawn through the chain link fence that divided my parent's back yard from the house beyond. I couldn't help but cast a glance at the view through the panoramic window. I couldn't help but stare as a young woman stepped boldly into the lamp light. I couldn't help but gasp, seeing she wore a black silk chemise.
I held my breath as I realized the woman was the good wife Jane. I had met her a few times, even greeted her calmly when I had been cutting our lawn. Jane was still young, no more than twenty-five at the time, a shy girl with a pretty smile. I was only eighteen. Jane laughed happily, reacting to someone out of my view.
"Do you think so?" she asked, teasing the hem along her thigh. Insects buzzed a steady beat in dark trees, but Jane's voice rang clear above the drone, through some open screen.
I nodded my approval as I watched her, enraptured, and without thinking I pushed my jogging shorts down. Jane's husband, Ted, crossed the room and took a seat on the sofa, facing me. Suddenly anxious to stay out of sight, I ducked down behind the pine railing, peeking over the edge as Jane bent over to turn on some music. Her chemise lifted slightly as she fiddled the controls, offering me a quick glimpse of the final curve of her bottom. Ted smiled and drank from a tall glass of beer.
I thought I had completely chased those memories away, but I can still recall the way Jane looked that night with photographic clarity. She started dancing as the music faintly hummed, stretching her long legs, tossing that silky gown with each bump of her hips, giving me short peeks at her round little backside. Jane's ass never looked so delicious under the loose blue jeans she wore when she was tending her garden. Teasing her husband, she let the thin straps fall from her shoulders. The supple wings of her shoulder blades fluttered gently as she showed Ted her breasts. The silk gathered at her waist and then slipped to the floor. I bit my lip, wanting her ass, tormented to madness by the first flash of the dark curls below.
Jane turned with a smile. I will never forget that wicked grin as she rubbed her ass in Ted's face, squeezing her tits almost angrily. Her dark nipples pulsed toward me with each contraction of her hands, enticing me forward, making me ravenously hard. Jane licked her lips and ground her backside into Ted's face.
She seemed to orgasm, smiling at me in my dark hiding place. I stroked my young cock furiously. I had never seen anything like this before. Ted stood up. He laced his fingers through Jane's dark mane and yanked her head back.
"You're mine," he snarled.
"Fuck me," she said.
I watched as he did, and I soon watered the lawn with my lust brewed concoction. Time passed, an hour at most, but an eternity of images burned into my head. Ted extinguished the light. I pulled my shorts up over my still throbbing prick and went to indulge in gushing wet dreams of my neighbor, Jane.
I saw her the next afternoon in those loose blue jeans, bent over to tease her dahlias. To my experienced eye, plain Neighbor Jane now faintly glowed with the simmering fever of the bawdy Slut Jane and I found myself staring nervously, smiling and coughing as I pretended to weed the lawn. My mother laughed when she saw me sitting on the grass, jerking a dandelion out of the ground. I ignored her amusement and continued sneaking peeks at sweet Jane.
I had no plan, no scheme, no intent, but my glands assumed control of my being and I soon found ways to speak to Jane, to ask her questions, give her advice, chattering helplessly about anything that came to mind. I found myself in her path when she needed some help, when something heavy needed pushing, when some high branch needed pulling. Jane smiled prettily and said as little as politeness could modestly bear. I had watched this woman fuck ecstatically a few nights gone by, but in the light of the day, Jane still appeared a shy, beautiful girl.
A fated afternoon led me into her house. I cannot remember what task had brought me into the marital sanctum but I quickly recognized the play room from my recurring dreams. Jane brought me a glass of lemonade. I thanked her. She smiled at me. I reached for a stool she need at the same moment she reached, bringing us for one instant too close. I could almost taste the tart heat of her breath as she lightly laughed. I kissed her. She moaned. I laced my fingers through her dark hair.
"You're mine," I said. Her eyes opened wide, melted darkly.
"Fuck me," she said.
Two days later I sat on my parents back porch and watched the sun go down. Jane and Ted's house erupted with anger, cries, a harsh symphony of accusations and denials. I listened, painfully, scared as I waited, expecting to hear my name burst into their howls of complaint. A door slammed. Jane cried. I turned away, trying desperately to extinguish my tears.
An hour went by, silent, brutal, lonely. Satisfied the episode had finally ended, I exiled myself to my room, burning with shame. Their house was soon sold. I tried to forget. I forgot.
I spent a lazy hour after dinner lounging on our sofa, skimming through a short novel my brother had recommended, when Andrea joined me. I hardly even noticed her entrance at first, staying with the prose long enough to finish one more sentence and then looked up to acknowledge my wife. At my first glimpse of Andrea, my eyes opened wide. Then my heart skipped a beat and the breath fled my body.
Andrea can look simply ravishing. She did.
It was about half-past eight. The bright summer sun had only just set and the wide stretch of sky I could see through our picture window had been painted with a stroke of deep crimson. Andrea turned on one and then another of the lights in the room, transforming the glass panes into an array of translucent mirrors. Her silk dress tickled up the back of her thigh as she reached for the second switch, testing my imagination with a flurry of hungry naked dreams. Living with Andrea is a sensual feast and I have become a shameless glutton. "Hi, honey," I said as I closed my book and set it aside. Andrea smiled as she pulled some CDs from the rack and flicked on the stereo.
"Don't let me disturb you," she said. "I just wanted to listen to some tunes."
"That's great," I said with a smile. At her command, a slow, sultry rhythm filled the room. Andrea walked over to the window and cupping her hands around her eyes, she peeked out at the night sky. Leaning over, the lace tops of her stockings crept into view, stealing my attention. Andrea slowly swayed her silk-encased bottom from side to side.
As I leered salaciously at my young wife, a glimmer in the yard caught my eye, a quick burst of motion outside, something like the shimmer of a white t-shirt before it ducked down behind the hedge. I shifted on the sofa, trying to find a better angle, wondering if I had really seen anything. An anxious reflection stared back at me.
"What was that?" I said softly.
Andrea moaned softly and a shiver seemed to caress her body. I tried to look past her, through the reflected shadow of her deep blue dress and into the night, but Andrea turned, obstructing my dim view with a wiggle of her hips and a flip of her hem. Black satin panties hugged her firm bottom in that quick instant before the dress dashed back down to swing lightly across her lean thighs.
"Sure you don't mind?" Andrea said as she strolled past me, saucy and cool.I nodded, wondering if she would pull the drapes, curious if she had seen the fleeting apparition outside. I squinted slightly, still nervous as I studied the dark shadows of the night's descent once more, anxious to chase the specter from my thoughts. Distracted by the woman before me, I quickly decided there was nothing to be seen. "A squirrel or bird," I said to myself. "That it is and nothing more." Andrea smiled knowingly, and I suspected she had been playing with me, teasing my fear-torn love of exhibitionistic thrills.
Her silk-clad thighs stole and held my attention as she followed the music's slow rhythms, Andrea dancing, enticing, conjuring lust-filled desires with each swing of her legs. I stared raptly, hypnotized by the shudders of flesh, her breasts wobbling as the drum beats grew faster, cascades of her girlish inhibitions falling like a sudden shower of rain.
I leaned forward to catch her, to draw my angelic beauty into my arms. Turning, she pressed her bottom to my lips, and I kissed the rich crevice of flesh, teasing her with deep licks. Andrea laughed and shuddered, giggled and ground herself into my kiss. I stood and laced my fingers through her long golden tresses.
"You're mine," I groaned.
"Fuck me," she said.
And I did. | 4 |
6,580 | Robin And The Catwoman | "Oh, my head," Robin whispered as he stirred awake.
It took a few moments for him to fully regain consciousness. His last memory was of chasing someone across the Gotham rooftops; now he was in someone's apartment.
"I've been captured!" He screamed in his mind as he suddenly realized he was under restraints.
Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to think calmly, just as Batman had taught him. Take stock of the situation, then form a plan of action.
The room was in semi-darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the skylight. Bright blue eyes surveyed the loft. Not much to see. A studio apartment, very nondescript. Could be anywhere in Gotham City - or for that matter any city. A small bed, three dressers, small kitchenette. Then he noticed two suitcases in the corner. Someone was either just moving in or ready to move out.
Next, he again tried his bonds. No good, they were strong leather straps. He was strapped to some sort of homemade wooden table, attached to some sort of wheel and pulley system that allowed the bed to be raised and lowered. He could be turned straight up to a standing position or laid flat. Currently, he was locked into a forty-five-degree angle. If anything, it reminded him of something out of those old Frankenstein movies.
"Okay, I'm not strong enough to break out of this," he said to himself. "So let's consider rescue options."
Across the room, he could see his bright yellow cape and green gloves draped across a chair. He couldn't see his utility belt anywhere.
"Figures, that'd be the first thing they took," Robin said to himself. "The homing transmitter would make rescue all too easy."
Then the sixteen-year-old adventurer made another futile attempt to loosen his bonds. In his mind, he reviewed the events leading up to his predicament.
He'd been on the way back from making a personal appearance at the new Gotham Boy's Club over in West Douglaston when he spotted a dark figure exiting a tenth-floor window of the Diamond Exchange. He'd tried Batman on his cycle's radio, but got only static. It would be impossible to follow the figure on the streets, so he bat-roped to the roof and took off after the thief.
Despite his years of circus acrobatic training, continued and improved on by the Batman, Robin was unable to do more than keep the dark figure in sight. Whoever they were - they were good. After about ten minutes, he was about to give up; he'd lost the burglar somewhere near the waterfront. Flipping on his portable radio, he was about to check in when he caught a sudden movement off to his right. The green and red clad boy whirled around and quickly took off across the roof. He was only a few seconds behind his adversary when he suddenly felt himself falling. Robin had only a split second to realize that the rotting roof of this long-abandoned building had given way beneath him. Then he was engulfed in darkness.
"Well, Dickie boy, you really did it this time," the Boy Wonder said. "When Batman catches up to you, he's really going to read you the riot act about taking off on your own."
He really didn't want to consider the possibility that Batman wouldn't catch up to him. Or that his captor might have planned a fatal conclusion to the night's adventure.
Who was his captor? That was a good question. Was it the shadowy thief he'd chased across the rooftops? Or was it someone who'd just stumbled upon his unconscious body in that empty warehouse.
One good thing in his favor, aside from a low-grade headache and a few minor bruises, he didn't seem to be hurt. Another thing in his favor was that he was still wearing his mask, meaning that whoever had brought him here didn't know his Dick Grayson identity. Not that he was famous or anything, but he'd been photographed with Bruce enough times for someone to have seen a picture. If Bruce Wayne's ward was moonlighting as Robin, could there be any question about who was Batman?
Far off in the distance, Dick heard a clock chiming two. He'd been unconscious for almost three hours. Batman had to be out looking for him by now. But looking where?
For the next twenty minutes, that thought dominated his thinking. Without that utility belt, it was going to be pure chance that he was found. Could his captor have already left, abandoning him here? If that was the case, he might never be found.
That morbid concept was suddenly interrupted by the sound of padded footsteps on the roof. Followed by the appearance of a dark form at the edge of the skylight.
"Batman?" Robin whispered under his breath.
Half of the old-style skylight opened, and the shadowy figure dropped into the room. With a catlike grace, the silhouette landed on the hard wood floor. Still covered in shadows, it moved across the room to a light switch next to the door.
"I can tell you're awake," said a soft, melodious voice as she hit the light switch, flooding the room with light. "No sense is trying to hide it."
Illuminated by the twin rows of track lighting that covered the opposite walls, she stood revealed. Clad in a skintight dark purple jumpsuit, she wore a tight-fitting cowl with small cat ears. Although she had never been photographed, Robin had no doubt as to her identity.
"You're the Catwoman!" He said in an excited voice.
"Well, that's pretty obvious..." She responded as she walked across the room. "Any other revelations?"
As she stood in front of him, Robin couldn't help but be impressed by her purple-clad body. He'd always thought Batgirl had a hard body, but next to the Catwoman, she might as well have been a boy.
"I must've been out of my mind bringing you up here," she said as she tossed a small carry bag onto the bed. "If I was the hardened criminal they keep writing about in the papers, I'd have left you back in that warehouse. The way some of those rags write about me, I should've slit your throat, just to keep in practice."
A slight shiver ran through Robin at that suggestion. Then he told himself that if she wanted him dead, she already had ample opportunity.
"Why did you bring me up here?" Robin asked.
"I was impressed by the way you tried to keep up with me back there at the Diamond Exchange," she began. "No one's ever even spotted me on a job, and here you were on my heels for over a mile. When I saw you fall through that roof, I doubled back to see how badly you were hurt."
"To be honest, I only spotted you at the Exchange by accident," Robin interrupted, figuring better to keep on her good side. "And I was about to give up when you bolted out of that last cubby-hole."
"Well, that makes me feel a little better," she said as she smiled. "I take great pride in my abilities."
She paused as she pulled off her cowl, revealing short black hair. She looked to be about 27, with features more cute than beautiful. Running her fingers across her head, she combed it into an almost boyish style.
"Where was I? Oh yes, I doubled back to see how badly you were hurt. At first glance, your injuries looked a lot worse than they really were. You landed in a pile of garbage bags, they broke your fall. Nothing was broken, I've had paramedic training. At first, I figured I'd just call an ambulance and get out of there while the getting was good. Then I spotted a group of waterfront dregs already watching from the broken windows. If I left you there, you might not be alive when the boys in white showed up."
"Thank you, I'm grateful," Robin said emotionally. "I really mean that."
"I believe you do," Catwoman replied. "I've never killed anyone, never wanted to be the cause of anyone else's death.Unlike most of those costume clowns running around this city, I'm only in this for the money. Let them play their power trip games while they try and outfox the Police and Batman. I'm content with having never been seen, only glimpsed.
"Until now...." Robin said, suddenly feeling a little insecure.
"Until now...." Catwoman repeated.
A long silence hung in the air until the Catwoman finally spoke again.
"I guess I have to make sure that you can't tell anyone about the Catwoman," she said.
Robin's face went pale with her words, and he felt his body grow suddenly cold.
"Since I already passed on my chance to do away with you..." Catwoman said. "I guess I'll have to kill the Catwoman instead."
"What?" Robin asked, certain he had heard wrong.
"Kill the Catwoman," she repeated. "If she doesn't exist, then your description doesn't matter, does it?"
Robin let out a sigh of relief.
"I've been planning to retire the tights after a few more jobs," Catwoman continued. "I guess I should take this as a sign that it's time. No sense tempting fate. After all, I already have enough money. All safe and sound in the best banks."
"Catwoman...I...." Robin began.
He was cut off as she placed an outstretched index finger against his lips, signifying silence.
"I told you, from this moment on, there is no Catwoman," she said softly. "My name is Selina."
"Selina..." He corrected himself. "I was wondering...."
"You're wondering what I'm planning to do with you?"
"Yes."
"Well, seeing as you don't need immediate medical attention," Selina said. "I figure I'll just leave you where you are and call the police with your location when I leave here in the morning. It's not as if you're going anywhere before then," she added as she ran her gloved hand against the edge of Robin's table.
"I see your point," Robin replied.
"Interesting little toy, isn't it?" Selina noted as she adjusted the strap across Robin's chest. "The woman I subleased this loft from was heavily into Bondage and Discipline. When she went to Europe for the summer, she put most of her toys into storage, but she had to leave this one behind. Haven't had any use for it until now."
"Lucky me," Robin answered.
With Selina only a foot away from him, Dick found himself becoming increasingly aware of her as a woman. The soft natural redness of her lips, the bright green of her eyes, the enticing curve of her breasts. In his mind, he was having difficulty concentrating on being Robin. He felt himself slipping back into Dick Grayson, with a 16-year-old's hormones. He was relieved when Selina turned and started to walk away from him. Watching her as she moved, the Boy Wonder couldn't help but note - she had a beautiful ass.
"Oh, by the way," the black-haired woman said as she stopped and turned. "If you've been looking for your utility belt, it's not here. I found the micro-transmitter and the homing device in it when I carried you up here. I turned it on and dumped it across town on the Oakridge section. Wouldn't want Batman showing up unexpectedly, would we?"
Selina spent the next hour packing her belongings in the two suitcases Robin had spotted earlier. She had laid out a change of clothes, but except for the gloves she had removed earlier, she still wore the purple jumpsuit of the now "deceased" Catwoman.
"There, ready to go," Selina announced. "It's still a few hours till sunrise. No sense in drawing too much attention by leaving while it's still dark."
Robin was counting the minutes until he would be free. The sooner she was gone, the sooner he would be out of here. So intent was he on this idea that he didn't even notice at first that Selina was stripping out of the purple catsuit right in front of him.
"I hope you don't embarrass easily," she said as she pulled the form-fitting outfit down her body. "But there's barely room in that bathroom to shower, much less change clothes."
Embarrass wasn't the word for what Robin felt. The flush he felt in his reddening face was nothing to the warmness between his legs as he felt his dick growing hard. Stripped of her tight purple jumpsuit, Selina exhibited a lean, firm body that any professional athlete would envy. Her breasts, while not large, were perfectly formed, held in place by a black sports bra. Every muscle was toned to perfection, the result of endless hours in a gym. By the time she was down to just her bra and matching panties, Dick could feel his cock straining against his dark green briefs.
It was at that moment that Selina pulled off her bra, letting her small breasts pop free. The sight of those firm mounds and the small pink nipples atop them was more than Dick could stand.
"Wow!" He exclaimed softly.
He hoped that she hadn't heard, but she had. She smiled at his comment and then walked over to him. Try as he could, it was impossible for Robin to hide his hard-on.
"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," she said as she noted the large bulge in his shorts.
Giving in to temptation, Selina reached down with her fingers and traced the outline of his cock through Robin's briefs. Surprised to find that erect, it measured almost seven inches, she laughed as it jumped at her touch.
"I guess that's another reason they call you the Boy Wonder," she laughed.
Robin didn't reply, but her fingers had felt nice against his cock, even through the material of his shorts.
"You know, that also answers another question I always wondered about," she continued as she retraced her fingers in the opposite direction. "I always wondered if Batman and you were queer. I mean, why else would a grown man run around with a teenage boy unless he was buggering him. I can see that at least you like girls."
"Batman's no queer!" Robin called out.
"Well, I guess I'll have to take your word for it," Selina replied as she gave his cock a playful squeeze.
Impressed by the hardness in her hand, Selina made a decision.
"I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I have to take a peek."
With that, she gripped both sides of his green briefs and pulled both them and his underwear down to his knees. Released from the tight confines of his costume, Robin's cock sprung upward, pointing to the ceiling in all its youthful splendor.
"Wow!" Selina said. Now it was her turn to be impressed.
Rather than be embarrassed, Robin was proud that she was impressed.
"I bet you have girls lining up at your high school to have a turn at that," Selina said as she cupped his balls in one hand and ran her nails alongside the thick shaft.
Dick tried to hide his response, but for a moment, his expression betrayed him.
"I can't believe that," Selina said in surprise, "Not with a body like you have and equipment like that. No way you're a virgin."
But Dick knew that he was. It wasn't that girls hadn't been interested. Many had, and more than a few had made their interest crystal clear. Yet if was impossible to let anyone get that close. He couldn't take the chance that anyone might find out he was Robin.
Watching the expression change on the teen's face, Selina knew that indeed he was. Still stroking his erect cock, she was overcome with sudden desire.
"You know, I've stolen just about everything of great value you can think of. Cash, jewels, stocks," she said. "But I've never stolen anything as precious as a boy's cherry."
Robin looked right into her eyes and knew that she wanted him. To be totally honest with himself, he wanted her as well.
"Until now..." Selina concluded.
With that, she dropped down and took Robin's throbbing penis into her mouth and began to suck softly on it.
Robin couldn't believe the incredible sensation he felt as he felt the wetness of Selina's mouth engulf his boyhood. Every nerve in his cock was alive, and as her tongue passed along the length of his dick, it sent sparks throughout his body. Beginning at the base of his balls, Selina began to lick and kiss her way to his crown. Licking the underside of his cockhead, she brought soft moans of delight from his lips. Then she wrapped her lips around it once again and deep-throated his length.
Pushing against his restraints, Robin struggled to push more of his cock into her willing mouth. With what movement he had, he began to thrust his pelvis, face-fucking Selina. Reaching down with her free hand, Selina freed Robin's legs from their restraints. His legs now free, the Boy Wonder was able to double his gyrations, bringing a smile to her cock-filled mouth.
Already she could taste the first drops of pre-cum on her tongue. Selina knew that Robin was close to exploding. Gripping his balls and pressing on his urethra, she tried to hold him back as long as possible. At the rate he was pumping, it would only be seconds more. As her mouth finished an upward motion and had just begun to recover the crown, Selina's mouth suddenly filled with an explosion of hot, sweet, boy-cum.
She immediately swallowed as fast as she could, taking his cock deep into her mouth as a second volley followed the first. She swallowed this as well, making room for a third burst. This one she held in her mouth, moving it around with her tongue. Small drippings exited the corners of her mouth as a fourth and final salvo caught her by surprise. Boy Wonder indeed.
Temporarily spent, Robin's cock began to grow semi-soft in her mouth. Selina let it slide free, then began to lick it clean with her tongue. Less than a minute later, not a drop remained.
Standing up, she looked at Robin's no longer innocent face. She released the table locks and rotated him to a standing position. Moving closer, she kissed him. Softly at first, then a little harder as her tongue slid between his lips. As his own tongue made contact with hers, Robin got his first taste of his own cum. He was surprised that it didn't bother him, not since it had come as a gift from this wonderful woman before him."I'd unfasten you more, my Boy Wonder," Selina said as she stroked his cheek. "But I'm still not the trusting sort. Besides, the lesson is just beginning, and it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Running her hands across Robin's muscular chest, Selina began to undo the yellow laces that held his red tunic together. Opening the last one, she pulled the tunic apart as far as it would go. Then she took a firm grip on the green shirt beneath it and ripped that open too. A wide smile filled her face as she ran her nails across his naked, hairless chest.
"Nice..." Selina purred as she stroked his pectorals. "You must spend a lot of time in the gym."
Up to that moment, Dick had never appreciated the endless hours he'd spent working out in the Batcave. Her fingers felt so good as they moved across his skin. As they touched his nipples, Selina gave each one of them a playful tug.
"Like that, don't you?" She said as she continued to gently caress his nipples. "Most young men don't realize how sensitive their nipples can be."
Moving closer, she kissed first one nipple, then the other. Then her tongue began to work its magic, bringing little sparkles of pleasure to his body. She continued to tongue his now erect nipples as her hand glided down to his semi-erect cock. Taking it in hand, she was pleased to note it was already beginning to harden.
"Now it's my turn," Selina said as she again adjusted the side wheel on his tablebed and lowered him to a horizontal position.
Maintaining a firm grip on his cock, Selina raised herself onto the bed and positioned herself so that her breasts were flush with his face.
"Let's see how observant you were?" She said as she lowered one breast to his mouth.
Reaching upward with his tongue as he had watched her do a few minutes before, Robin traced the light pink outline of her aureole. Then he rubbed the tip of his tongue against the top of Selina's eraser-sized nipple. Finally, he lifted his head just a little, taking the whole crown in his mouth.
It wasn't the first time he'd sucked on a breast, but the two high school encounters before this couldn't compare. Selina's body scent was intoxicating as he covered it with his saliva. Pleased with his efforts, Selina shifted her other breast into his reach.
As Robin continued to suckle, Selina had brought his youthful cock back to full hardness. She grazed the underside of his balls with her long red nails, tweaking the small black hairs that surrounded them.
She knew he was ready to go again, but there was one more lesson he needed to learn before the final one. In her opinion, it was the most important one.
Standing up on the bed, she moved forward and squatted over his face. With her legs spread, Selina lowered herself until her bushy mound hovered right over his waiting mouth.
"OK, Boy Wonder," She said. "Let's see how good you can use that talent on this."
Robin stared for a few seconds at the hairy pussy barely two inches above him. It was his first real look at a woman's sex. That was of course if he discounted the brief look he'd gotten at Barbara Gordon when he walked in on her coming out of the shower one night she had stayed at Wayne Manor. Mousy librarian that she was, Dick was amazed to discover that she had a body almost as good as Batgirl's. What a waste he had thought at the time.
"Well?" Selina asked, snapping Robin's mind back from its wandering.
Since Robin's hands were still restrained, Selina reached down with one hand and parted her cunt lips. Lifting his head as far as he could, Robin began to lick away as fast as he could.
Selina could tell it was his first experience licking a woman. His tongue was all over the place, but occasionally he would hit the right spot. She gently took a hold of his head and began to guide him to her sensitive spots.
"Easy..." She whispered as she lowered herself so that her open cunt now rested on top of his eager mouth. "Just take it nice and slow, let your tongue glide in and out."
Finally, Robin began to follow her instructions and began to be rewarded with his first tastes of girlcum. It was very different from his own, which he'd tasted a little earlier. While his had been salty and a little tart, Selina's was sweet. Nevertheless, he found it to be a delicious flavor. Dick was sure that none of the girls at school could ever have tasted so good.
"That's better..." Selina said as she arched back and enjoyed the feel of his tongue inside her. "Not so talkative now, huh. I guess the pussy's got your tongue!"
Pinned beneath her, Dick wanted to groan at the bad pun. To think he used to like childish things like that.
Rubbing her now well-lubricated cunt back and forth over Robin's face, Selina soon covered it with a thin layer of girljuice. As she lifted herself off him, she couldn't resist licking a little of it off.
"Mmmm," She purred as her tongue licked the side of his face. "I think you're ready for the main event."
Backtracking her earlier steps on the bed, Selina moved to a point where her wet pussy now hovered over Robin's rock-hard member. Taking it in hand, she held it straight and lowered herself onto it.
With the cockhead at the entrance walls of her womanhood, she paused a moment. Her emerald green eyes looked into his baby blues. The fire between her legs flared in intensity as she saw the hunger in those eyes.
Dropping an inch, she eased his cockhead inside her. It slid effortlessly, quickly covered by the heavy lubrication Robin had produced through his efforts. Then in a quick motion, she dropped all the way and took him totally within her.
Robin gasped at the sudden envelopment of his boyhood. The wet pressure around it brought a smile of satisfaction to his face. If he thought having his boycock in her mouth was heaven, the words didn't exist to describe this incredible delight. As Selina began to move up and down on his pole, the sensations grew in intensity. Bracing her hands against the sides of the bed, Selina began to rise and drop with an ever-increasing frequency. Faster and faster, she pumped, creating a suction that was drawing the life out of his cock.
"Oh God...Selina!" Robin called out as he tried to match her motions.
At the rate she was moving, Selina knew that he would cum quickly. Few 16-year-olds had any kind of self-control. A few minutes later, she felt his body tensing. Lifting herself higher so that his cock nearly fell out of her, she drove herself down on it with a fury. Up again she raised and then down with the same abandon. Twice more was all it took as she felt the first hot burst erupt inside her.
Slamming her body down upon him, Selina grabbed his arms and pulled him to her. Her mouth sought out his, and she kissed him passionately while his seed spread within her. Holding him pressed tightly against her, she continued to pump his still firm cock until his balls had been squeezed of every last drop of that beautiful white cream.
Finally, it was done, and her hot, sweat-covered body collapsed upon his. Too exhausted to even lift herself, she just laid there, his cock still within her. Eventually, it began to shrink to its pre-aroused state and slipped from within her. So drained were they both that after closing their eyes for a moment, they both drifted off to sleep.
Bright golden sunlight flooded the skylight when Selina finally opened her eyes. Glancing upward, she saw that Robin was already awake but had made no move to awaken her. She was pleased that he still wore that broad, satisfied grin he had fallen asleep with.
"I have to tell you, kid," She said as she climbed off him. "You're really something. A little practice and you're going to be irresistible."
Glancing at the clock, Selina was shocked to find that it was already nine. She had to get out of here. Running into the bathroom, she took a hasty shower and quickly dressed.
"Give me a few minutes to get myself together, and I'll get you cleaned up afterwards," Selina called over to Robin as she zippered up her dress.
For the first time since awakening, Robin glanced down at himself and was surprised at how he looked. Ripped costume. Naked from the chest down. Dried cum caked on both his face and groin. Not exactly the image the correct young hero was supposed to project. Still, last night had been incredible.
Selina had just finished setting her other earring when she glanced out the window over the kitchen area. Her pretty face suddenly turned a cold pale.
"Oh shit!" She exclaimed.
"What's the matter?" Robin called out as he tried to jump up protectively only to be pulled back by the straps he still wore.
"No time for the luggage," Selina said to herself as she grabbed her carrybag, all she really needed was inside that anyway. "I have to get out of here now!"
Quickly moving for the door, she paused for a second next to her young lover. Impulsively, she bent down and kissed him.
"I meant what I said before, Richard, you were one hell of a fuck!" She said before disappearing out the door.
"She knew!" Robin said as he strained to try and see what had spooked her at the window. "She must've had my mask off when she examined my cuts when I was unconscious."
Richard Grayson didn't have long to ponder the thought as a tall, dark blue and gray figure appeared within view of the kitchen window. With a practiced ease, the Dark Knight threw a silk line across the alleyway and swung onto the rooftop. Appearing at the skylight, he quickly opened it and dropped inside.
At first, he ignored the bound figure in front of him. He used the first few seconds of his entry to assess his surroundings. Finally satisfied they were alone, he produced a small, sharp-edged blade from the yellow utility belt around his waist. With quick motions of his gloved hands, he cut the leather straps which had held Robin captive.
Robin sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists.Batman didn't say a word, he just took a long look at his ward and his somewhat unusual condition.
"Bruce... I..." Robin began, but was cut off by a wave of the Batman's hand.
"Later, right now let's get you dressed and out of here."
As Robin pulled on what was left of his costume and recovered his bright yellow cape, Batman ran his hand along the length of the homemade operating table.
"I'm not sure what exactly happened here," he said in a powerful authoritative tone. "But, chum, when we get back to the Batcave, you and I are going to have a long, long talk."
Robin didn't reply. Instead, he palmed a small perfumed handkerchief from the dresser and slid it into the pouch of his cape. No matter the outcome of the promised talk, it had been worth it. | 4 |
6,599 | Four | "Come! I have to show you," said Peg, pulling on my arm as soon as Larry and I had walked in the front door. She wasn't indicating Larry--just me. I glanced at him, but gave in, following Peg. I didn't see any of the other husbands around, and briefly felt guilty about abandoning Larry to Shannon and Denise. He hadn't even really wanted to come: I could tell. Well, at least he'd enjoy *looking* at Shannon. Men generally do.
"What is it?" I asked as Peg led me to the kitchen, then down the basement stairs. Dinner at Shannon's: we'd gotten this idea one Saturday when the four of us had gone out for lunch. A chance to drag...I mean *get* our husbands to a nice dinner, and Shannon could show off her cooking. I'd only been to Shannon's house once before, and was still taking it all in: she does have a way with decor.
Once in the basement, we turned a corner. I gasped: in front of us were three naked men!
They were standing, tied, blindfolded and gagged. It was the husbands. "What do you think?" whispered Peg into my ear. I stared. They just stood there and I realized they were tied by the neck to the ceiling so they couldn't sit down or even move around very much.
"Peg, what's going on?" I whispered in her ear, confused. As well as shocked.
"Isn't it great?" she whispered back. *Great?* Was *that* the word to describe this? What was I going to do?
This was the last thing I expected to find at Shannon's: come to a dinner party; find *this*, whatever it was. What was Larry going to think of all this? "Peg," I whispered. "This is *strange*. Are they OK?"
"Sure! They love it," came the returned whisper. I looked at them. They just stood there. "Come on," she said, leading me back upstairs.
Somehow I was embarrassed at those men possibly hearing me. I kept my voice down: "Peg, this is too weird. We've got to go."
"What!? You just got here: this is our dinner together."
"Larry won't like this!" What *would* Larry think? I had no idea what he would think, but I had the uncomfortable feeling that it would be that my friends and their husbands were totally crazy. Which is about what I was thinking at the time.
"Oh, I don't know about that: guys *love* this sort of thing." What did she mean by that? Larry would *like* visiting three couples with the three men bound, naked? Those guys *like* this? I supposed they must or how did they let themselves get *into* their situation. "Look!" she added, still quietly.
She'd led me to the opening to the family room and I stopped, staring at the scene in front of me. Shannon and Larry were staring at each other. Shannon was sitting in the middle of a table, her legs spread apart, her heels on the table, her elbows resting on her knees. She wore rather tight-fitting pants that emphasized her long, slender limbs and her slender, athletic body. She was staring straight at Larry, looking very serious.
And he was standing in the middle of the room, staring right back at her! Neither of them moved when we came into view. Denise just stood leaning against the wall opposite Peg and me, watching them.
Peg was indicating that I should be quiet. No one said anything, but no one seemed inclined to either. The air was definitely very tense. Shannon moved just a little, and even though it looked like she was just adjusting, I realized that her body movements were *very* sexy. She smiled at Larry. "You like what you see, don't you?"
She was obviously talking to Larry, but he didn't answer: he just stared. I could see why he was intrigued by her, but I was shocked. He seemed to be oblivious to everything but her! "Don't you?" she repeated.
"Yes," he said in a low voice.
She smiled in response, but I didn't quite like her smile. I looked away. I happened to see into the dining room, noticing that Shannon had gone all out: good china, the works. And I realized that there were only four places set! Peg touched me and indicated to me to watch again, silently.
Shannon put her legs down over the edge of the table, then stood. She moved so gracefully, like a cat. "You want me."
"Yes."
"You don't care about *anything* but *me*, do you?"
No answer.
She went on: "Right now: you care *just* about me."
"Yes."
She paused. Then she said: "Take off your shirt: right here." After another short pause, she said: "For me."
He still just stared at her. She smiled again. "You *said* you want me. Do it. Right now. Right in front of your wife. For me." She seemed almost gleeful as she mentioned me.
He did it. He started unbuttoning his shirt! She giggled a little and said "So much for loyalty!" At the same time, she ran her hands up and down her own body. Her outfit was so tight.
He had the shirt off. She moved slightly closer. "Strip," she said. I noticed that Denise was holding handcuffs and a gag and other such things.
He did it. He stood there naked. "Good boy," she said, looking him up and down deliberately. She motioned with her head to Denise without actually looking at her. Denise came up behind Larry and cuffed his hands together. He still just stood there, staring at Shannon!
"I told you he'd like it," whispered Peg in my ear. Then she pulled me back from the door while Shannon and Denise led Larry out and toward the basement. I watched them disappear down the stairs. Larry'd never looked at me.
"It's just us girls, tonight," said Peg. Then she said "Come," was dragging me again. She led me upstairs and into a bedroom. She opened a jewelry box. "Shannon wants us to wear her jewelry." She pulled out a string of pearls. "Shannon's wearing this. Try it on."
She put it around my neck and attached it. *Larry naked in the basement, I'm trying on a pearl necklace.* The necklace was beautiful. Shannon and Denise appeared at the door. "Here, try this," said Shannon, having picked out a necklace with a locket. It seemed old-fashioned, but it was seeming old-fashioned just to wear any sort of necklace. Peg was wearing a gold chain and the two of us went back downstairs. I thought about Larry in the basement. What did he think of all this?How could he stare at Shannon like that, right in front of me?
The table was absolutely fabulous: everything set to perfection. Denise came down, wearing two fine gold chains around her neck. Then Shannon walked in.
She was naked. Well, she had on the pearls and heels: absolutely nothing else. Not even rings.
"Looks nice with the pearls," commented Denise, smiling. What a body Shannon had! She told us we could sit and went in the kitchen bringing out the entrée.
Denise started taking off her blouse!
She had no bra on and sat down wearing nothing above her skirt except for the two gold chains! Shannon had gone back into the kitchen. Walking around the house, naked in heels. "Want to?" asked Peg, looking at me, her fingers on the buttons of her blouse. She must have seen my answer in my face, because she immediately gave up on the idea and sat down, indicating that I should do the same.
Well, I got used to it, sort of, and we were drinking wine, gossiping. Once in a while, my eyes would stray to Shannon's naked chest and I'd remember the guys downstairs, but it was amazing how I seemed to adjust to the whole thing.
The meal was amazing: Shannon must have been planning it for a week--the dessert was heavenly. Afterwards they said it was time for the guys to have some fun and Shannon brought out a leather strap.
I stared at the way the guys just stood there and took it, not seeming to want to escape or anything. We left the four of them lying face-down on the floor, having removed their handcuffs and told them to get dressed again. By the time they came up, Shannon and Denise were dressed too.
Larry and I were silent, walking back to the car. What I'd watched him do! What *I'd* done! Once in the car, he grabbed me and kissed me! He was so passionate I couldn't believe it! We never said a word the whole way home, and we made love over and over that night, not a word between us.
And that was our first such get-together. Now it's amazing to see Larry getting excited as we get ready to go to these things: he doesn't say anything, but I can tell. And afterwards he is *always* ready. As I am: I'm always ready for more, even after our post-dinner *upstairs* activities. I'm no longer so shy at dinner, and Shannon's let me wear the pearls. I don't have her body, but I *love* those pearls.
Afterwards we always start by adjourning to Shannon's bedroom. Peg and I like to form our legs into a scissors around each other's sex and rub ourselves together. We can sit there on the bed while we do it, resting on our arms, and look at each other's faces. Shannon will tongue Denise's nipples: Denise just *loves* that, and will come from just from that. I think Shannon would like to be licked *down there*, but none of us has ventured into *that* yet. She just gets Denise to finger her. | 3 |
6,653 | Sordid Conception - Part 2 | "How do you want it tonight, Mom?" he asked up at her.
"I'll let you decide, baby," she said, smoothing his hair off his forehead in a motherly instinct. She could almost bet money on the position he'd choose.
"In that case, Mother dear," Brad began, a big smile on his face, "Assume the position...of doggy submission!" He pulled his fingers from her pussy and sat up on his haunches, his hard penis sticking up from his hairy pubic area like a Stonehenge monolith.
Sharon's bet would have paid off. Her son just loved to take her from behind. She liked just about any position if the truth was known.
"You're so predictable, Brad," she teased, sitting up and then twisting her body over so she was in the position he wanted, crouching on her hands and knees in front of him. She began stacking the two pillows just in front of her as Brad moved between her calves, his right hand coming up to stroke her puffy pouch of pussy nestled between the top of her thighs while his left hand lay on her buttocks.
"I can't help it if I love seeing your ass like this...you got a great ass, Mom," Brad said complimentarily. His knees spread her legs wider and his fingers dipped back into her slippery slot. "I love to drive my hips into it while I fuck you."
Sharon finished stacking the pillows, smiling at Brad's bawdy talk and the way he was massaging the inside of her cunt with his fingers. Her husband never would have been able to use such language and she never would have experienced it if she'd settled down with some older suitor from town.
"You like to watch it shake while you screw me?" Sharon asked, giving him tit-for-tat. She looked back at him and could almost see his mind trying to think up a comeback.
"You know it, Momma...it really shakes when I'm throwing Big Chubby to ya!" His left hand squeezed her buttock to punctuate his statement. Big Chubby was the affectionate nickname for his penis which he used with all too much regularity.
"Oh Brad, you're such a rude thing!" Sharon said, moving her pussy back and forth suggestively around his digits, fucking herself on them. She was more than ready for Brad to put Big Chubby to use.
"You love my rudeness, Mom. So prim and proper by day but when we get in this bed...man, you like it down and dirty, don't you?" He was almost laughing at her as he drew his fingers from her satin-slick slot and moved even closer behind her, his figure now seeming to loom over her upthrust ass. His eyes were on her face as he dipped his knees slightly and slapped his stiff prick up against her womanhood. It was apparent that he wanted an answer before he continued.
"You know I'm no angel, baby. An angel doesn't sleep with her own son." Her words pleased Brad; he began to smile. She went further. "An angel doesn't get down on her hands and knees and let her son fuck her all night!"
That got him. She turned her face away from him and held her breath as he directed the tip of his cock against the flower of her pussy and pushed strongly. After all the times he had done this, he knew just the right pressure to apply to sock the fat head of his penis past the resisting ring of her pussy portal.
His hearty cry of "I'm going to fuck you all night!" completely covered her "AAAAHHHHHHH!" of pleasure and pain as he entered her. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip for the few seconds of discomfort but it went away quickly.
"Oh yeaaahhh!" Brad gasped. "Get ready to get fucked, you dirty, dirty angel."
Sharon's mouth fell open as her son began pushing the rest of his thick penis through her splayed cunt lips. It felt like a fire hydrant being stuffed up her pussy but she was used to it, welcomed it.
"Shit, I love your pussy, Mom...you take it so easy," Brad grunted as his strong hands held her ass and he shoved his hefty shaft in inch by wide inch.
"Uh...it's not that easy, baby," Sharon said through gritted teeth. He always compared her to girls his own age that he dated and fucked; those high school honeys with their thin hips sometimes hadn't reached to the point of maturity where they could accommodate her son or just didn't want to try. She'd been only too happy to cure his blue balls after those occasions.
"Sure it is...Tell me this isn't easy!" With a big final push, he sank his last three inches into her begrudging cunt in a bull rush.
"Oooooooohmigod!" Sharon squealed at his impolite charge up her. Normally if he'd tried something like that, she'd have torn into him about being crude and uncaring for her feelings. But she was so randy that she didn't want to make a point of it.
"Sorry, Mom," Brad said lamely.
"It's all right...just leave it in for a moment," she asked. She wanted her vaginal sheath to fully expand before her son started banging away.
As they stayed still in the center of her bed, she dipped her head down to look back under her body. One thing about their taboo sex that she loved was to watch her pussy getting fucked by Brad. Watching his manhood pump into her welcoming womb was so erotic!
Taking him on her hands and knees was her least favorite position for viewing the penetration but, through her dangling breasts, she could watch his testicles and that held some charm.
'They're going to give Brenda what she wants... a big load or two of potent baby cream,' Sharon thought. Brad just exuded virility and she was sure in her mind that he could knock up his sister-in-law if given the chance. She knew another thing that kept Brad coming back for more, besides his natural Oedipal yearning, was the opportunity to fuck her without a condom; she'd had her tubes tied after he was born. He swore her pussy was the first and the only one that he'd released his seed in.
She steadied herself on her left hand as she reached back between her legs with the right. Her fingertips roamed over her exposed clitoris for a few delightful strums before she dipped her shoulder a little more and took Brad's balls in the palm of her hand.
"You're ready," she heard Brad say from above and behind her. His heavy balls slid off her hand as he pulled his cock out of her cunt halfway and then pushed it back in strongly. Sharon made a grab for his swinging scrotum as it bumped up against her fingers but he was already into his second thrust, his balls escaped her as they swung away. She satisfied herself with feeling the underside of his moving shaft and her bulging, sparsely-haired labia as Brad slid his hands forward to grab her waist, his fingers digging into her skin.
"MMmmmmHHmmm.....yesssss....uhhh....uuhhh," she trilled and puffed and grunted in front of her hung son as he fucked her like a stud in the middle of her bed, the same bed where his father had lain with her for years and years. God help her, Brad was better, so much better!
Her bed began its familiar squeaking, the rhythmic squawking of the mattress coils heralding another hot coupling of mother and son. They fucked silently for several minutes, each content to just enjoy the act without expounding about the shameful sensations emanating from their sex organs.
"You got hot pussy..." Brad finally grunted behind her in imperfect English, "...fucking awesome!" His erection plumbed her nice and hard, the only speed he seemed to know.
Sharon steadied herself on both hands again, closing her eyes and tilting her head back toward her shoulders. Brad's hips smashed against her bottom again and again, sending her soft ass rippling and shaking just like he'd wanted as his rigid rod flashed in her oozing quim.
"Yesssss....uhhh....uuhhh...get me off....baby, get Momma off!" she pleaded hotly, wiggling her ass pervertedly, goading her young lover to fuck her harder. Brad didn't rise to the bait - he kept fucking her hard but didn't shift into the higher gears she knew he had.
He did however dip his hands under her hips, his body leaning over her slightly as his fingers tortured her unhooded clitoris.His fingers were clumsy, riding on her supersensitive knob of nerves, pulling and pushing her slick downy-soft cunt lips to and fro, but he knew the extra stimulation would put her into orbit.
"Ah...fuck!" he hissed close to her ear. "Squeeze my dick....yeah, that's it, Mom! Ah, fuck yeah...make it tight....then let it cum...aahhh....aahhhh."
Sharon used her deep cunt muscles on her son's pounding pud, squeezing the front half of his horse cock when it delved between them. His words and fingers were sweeping her toward a great orgasm where control of her cunt would be lost.
"Fuck me.....do it harder!" she croaked as she let her face and shoulders fall into the stacked pillows before her, afraid her arms were going to give out any second. Her son's legs pushed her knees forward a few inches, making her arch her back and raise her ass higher. He quickly straightened up, grabbing her jiggling cheeks with his strong mitts as he shifted into overdrive.
"AAAHHH.....yeaaaahh!" Brad groaned. "Hold that....pussy up! FUCKIN' YOUR TIGHT CUNT!"
Sharon hugged the pillows as her fiery fuck-furrow exploded in a juice-squirting, topsy-turvy climax. She fought to even breathe as her sex jerked and shimmied around Brad's unrelenting barrage of cock thrusts.
"UUUUUHHHGGHHHHAAAAHHHHH!" she moaned in release, just blown away by her son's powerful fucking.
Things got confusing for a while, she lost track of time, but she came out of the fuck funk feeling Brad's hands under her armpits, pulling her upper body upward.
"Get up..I want you up," she realized Brad was saying. "Yeah..I want you just like this!"
No sooner had she gotten her arms under her, than Brad grabbed her by the shoulders and began lunging into her still-shivering sex. He was laying into her so hard and pulling back on her shoulders so powerfully that Sharon thought the back of her head would bump against her tailbone!
"TAKE IT.....TAKE IT, MOM!.....AAAAAUUUUGGGGHHH!"
Mercifully, Sharon felt the hot rush of her baby's cum in her stretched cunt as he shoved in deep. His twitching tool sent her into a follow-up mini-orgasm, the two of them panting in her bed while his cream mixed with her juices in the confines of her cunt.
The world outside spun on unknowingly.
"Brad, I want you to do something for me," Sharon said later as they lay on their backs beside each other.
"God, Mom. Are you horny tonight or what?" Brad misunderstood what she'd meant, but neither had to get up early in the morning. Another go-round would probably occur if her pussy could take it. She rolled on her side toward him, raising up on her elbow and draping her arm across his chest.
"I didn't say 'something to me', I said 'for me' but I think you'll enjoy it as much.....we've got a crisis in the family."
"Yeah, what might that be?" he asked, rubbing her arm.
"Brenda and Chris have been trying to have a baby for quite a while and Brenda's found out that Chris is the problem."
"What? You mean he's got no pop-in-the-pistol?"
"Well, he's got some 'pop'," Sharon said, mimicking him, "but the odds aren't good and Brenda wants a baby....even if it's not Chris's."
Brad looked from the ceiling to her face.
"Brenda has agreed to let you impregnate her....that is, if you want."
"No shit!"
"I'm not joking," Sharon assured her lucky son, "We were talking about it when you came in today. I've seen the way you look at Brenda... I hope you don't mind me volunteering you for the task."
"And Chris is in the dark about this?" Brad asked, trying to hide his obvious interest.
"Yes. It has to be that way too. He can't ever find out."
"So, Brenda said it was O.K. for me to fuck her?" Brad's concern about Chris's feelings disappeared fast enough.
"It's not going to be like you and me, honey. It's going to have to be done with, uh, some detachment. She's just looking to get pregnant...it would be a no-frills thing."
"My cock's going to be shooting cum in her pussy and you call that no-frills?!" Brad said with a naughty gleam in his eyes. "I'd call that frills deluxe!"
"I didn't say you weren't going to enjoy yourself," Sharon said, kissing him tenderly for a moment. "You've just have to act like you aren't."
"That'll be hard, Mom. Brenda's such little sexpot....almost as hot as you," he added, his fingers moving up her arm and onto her right breast.
"Brad, you say the nicest things," Sharon sighed, moving her hand down his stomach to touch his hardening prick. "Is this because of me or because of Brenda?"
"Both of you," Brad said, rolling her on her back and moving over her. "But Brenda's not here, so you'll have to do."
'I should have my head examined for even thinking about this,' Brenda thought as she drove to her mother-in-law's house the next afternoon. But she had made up her mind to go through with Sharon's solution. It made sense in every way.
And there was that illicit element that made it even exciting. She could use some excitement if the truth be known.
Chris was a very predictable sort in bed. There wasn't a lot of variation in their lovemaking. He wanted to be sucked for a while and then he got on top and went as long as he could. That had been very exciting when they were dating, but after years of marriage, the luster was wearing off.
Brenda thought again about Brad. He had a lot of growing up to do, but there was something that was very exciting about his untamed manners. It was like having Tarzan in the family.
She squirmed in the car seat as she recalled the wild dream that she'd had about Brad the previous night. She knew enough about dreams to know that things seen or heard in a previous day often made their way into dreams. So she shouldn't have been surprised she'd have a sexual dream.
But her part in the dream had shocked her.
In the dream, she'd practically raped Brad! The scene had been his mother's bedroom, but she wasn't covered up, hiding her body. She'd been naked and pulling off a pair of shorts that Brad had on at the beginning of the portion of the dream that she could remember. The shorts had come off and Brad had had this super cock. Obviously, he couldn't have one like the one she dreamed up - it was maybe eighteen inches long! She'd pushed Brad on his back on the bed and climbed on top of him, steering his unbelievable organ right up into her ready pussy, sinking down on it until it was somehow all the way inside her. Then she'd bounced on it like a banshee until it unleashed a huge blast of sperm right where she needed it.
But she hadn't stopped there! She'd dismounted from Brad's wilting surrealistic dick and scooted back until she was straddling his knees. Then she'd taken that big, slimy dick in her mouth and sucked and jacked on it like a porno star.
She'd wanted it to get rock hard again so she could get more of his seed in her fertile womanhood. But the damn thing had gone off in her mouth, shooting blasts of wasted cum right down her throat. Whimpering in disappointment and disbelief at Brad's ability to produce so much sperm, she'd swallowed it down and kept right on sucking.
Brad's monster staff of life had stayed hard and she'd pulled him on top of her, spreading her legs wide, letting Brad ram his long prong impossibly deep in her cummy cunt. She'd started having orgasm after orgasm as he pounded her. It had been so unbelievable but so real!
Finally, Brad had hosed her innards with what felt like a quart of baby juice. Almost immediately, Brenda had felt that she was pregnant, that a new life was being born. Even before Brad had pulled out, her belly had started to grow, bulging to full-term shape in about ten seconds. Then all at once it had snapped back to its original flat state and Brad was presenting her with her baby. She'd taken it with tears in her eyes, pressing a nipple in its mouth, feeling it beginning to nurse.....
That's when she had sat up in bed beside her sleeping husband, her breath coming in waves, her body tingling with excitement.
'Brenda, you've got some imagination!' she told herself, seeing her mother-in-law's house come into view. 'This is just about getting pregnant and that's all.'
But deep down, she knew parts of the dream weren't about just having a baby.
The doorbell rang and Sharon headed downstairs to answer it. It was most likely Brenda, come to discuss things with her and Brad.
"Brad!" she called down the hallway as she stopped at the top of the stairs.
"Yeah?!" he called back and then stuck his head out of his bedroom.
"That's probably Brenda. Come down when I call you."
"Gotcha."
"And comb your hair!" she said before heading downstairs.
Entering the front room, she saw it was Brenda through the sheer curtains on the inside door.
"Hi, Brenda. Come on in," she said after opening both doors.
Brenda came in and she said to come into the kitchen and have some iced tea that she had made. Brenda and she went into the kitchen.
"You must be working today," Brenda said as she sat down at the kitchen table. Sharon was wearing her nurse's uniform.
"Yes, I'm working the overnight shift. Here you go." Sharon sat a glass of tea in front of Brenda and sat down at the table.
"Well, what did Brad say?" her daughter-in-law asked.
"Brenda, I must tell you that I have never seen Brad so serious as when I told him about your problems," Sharon began. She had to lie to Brenda to keep things on track. Telling Brenda the truth, that Brad was only interested in slipping her his salami, would have blown everything. "He sees the reasoning behind it. He said he'd would help us and he'd keep our secret."
"Do you trust him, Sharon?" Brenda asked.
"I do, dear.Brad puts on an act sometimes, but he understands what could happen to our family if this gets out. Don't worry about that.
"Then I guess, if Brad tests okay, we should plan for this coming Thursday. That's the next big day."
"Let me call Brad down, and you can talk to him about it," she said. Sharon walked over to the stairs and called up, "Brad! Brenda's here!" She then walked back to the table. "He'll be right down, honey."
Sharon thought Brenda would be a little nervous talking with Brad now that it looked like he was going to know her so intimately. But Brenda looked totally at ease, even eager to see Brad.
'Could it be that she's convinced herself so totally that this is the right thing to do?' Sharon wondered.
Brad came down the stairs, looking much more presentable than usual. His hair was combed back in a ponytail, and he was wearing a tennis shirt and nice knee-length shorts.
"Hi, Brenda," her son said with a smile. Then he slipped into his usual comedic self, putting on a serious voice, he said, "You all know why I've called you here today."
"Brad!" she said exasperatedly. He was going to joke his way right out of his chance to lay with Brenda and deny her a grandchild.
"Sharon, it's okay," Brenda said, waving her hand at her. "Some levity is what we need right now. Sit down, Brad."
Sharon was impressed by the way Brenda was acting. She seemed to be in control of the situation. Brad sat down at the table and managed to control himself for the next half hour that they talked.
Brenda impressed on Brad what a baby would mean to her and Chris. Brad laid it on a little thick, saying that he just wanted her and Chris to be happy, but Brenda seemed to buy it.
So their pact was sealed. Brenda would stop by in the morning to pick up a sperm sample and take it to the out-of-town clinic for analysis.
Sharon was a little surprised when Brenda kissed Brad on the cheek when she left. It went against the impersonal tone they had all put on the actual event.
"How was I, Mom?" Brad asked his mother when she came back from walking Brenda out to her car.
"You were fine, dear," his mother said as she cleaned the table.
"Did you see that kiss she laid on me?" he said with a smile.
"Honey, that was a very innocent kiss," his mother said with a small laugh.
"Yeah, but you didn't see her grab my ass, too!"
"Brad, I just don't know about you sometimes," she said, shaking her head but smiling. "I better head to work."
Brad wished she didn't have to run off. His mother looked pretty hot in her nurse's uniform. He made a mental note to see if she might go for wearing it one night.
"What are you going to do tonight?" she asked before she left.
"Nothing planned. It's a Sunday, so there aren't any parties. Maybe I ought to study."
"Study?" his mother said in surprise. Hitting the books was not what he did, and it was the summer anyway.
"Yeah...for my sperm test!" he said, springing the old joke on her.
"You are a comedian," his mother said sarcastically as he laughed at his own joke. Then she said, "I don't think you have to worry. From someone who's been on the receiving end, I'm betting you'll test just fine."
"Oooh, Mom. You sure you have to go to work right away?"
"Yes. So keep it in your pants."
He managed to give her ass a quick feel when she kissed him goodbye. She told him where dinner was in the fridge, and then she was gone, leaving him to think about Brenda and what was to come.
It was eight o'clock the next morning when Sharon pulled her car into her garage and went inside her house. She'd been on duty for fourteen hours at the hospital, although she'd been able to sleep for three hours during the night thanks to a rotation they had worked out among the nurses on duty. She was a little fatigued, but she would wait until after Brenda stopped by to pick up Brad's sperm sample.
She entered the kitchen to find the empty cartons of two twelve-packs of Olympia near the sink.
'Looks like Brad had some company last night,' she thought.
She looked in the living room and saw empty potato chip bags and beer cans on the coffee table. It looked like Brad and some of his friends had spent the night drinking and watching TV.
She checked the rest of the downstairs for any of Brad's sleeping friends but found none. She then went into the kitchen and took a wine glass out of the cupboard. Twirling the thin stalk of the glass between her fingers, she made her way upstairs.
She went into her bedroom, kicked off her rubber-soled nurse shoes, and went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Doing the overnight shift, she had drunk a lot of coffee, and it always left a taste in her mouth.
Taking the wine glass, she then walked down the upstairs hallway. She looked in the guest bedroom and found it empty. Likewise, the small den where she did the family bookkeeping. That only left her son's room to check out.
She knocked very lightly and then opened the door. Her son was sprawled on his bed, face down and naked. He was alone, which was something of a relief. There wouldn't be any girls to chase away.
Sharon walked to the side of his bed, enjoying the sight of Brad's nude form yet again. He was 19, but he had a more mature body. She was a very lucky woman to share a bed with him frequently.
She sat the wine glass on his bedside table as she sat on the side of the bed and shook his shoulder. | 5 |
6,662 | Jealousy | "About...10 years ago." Which would have made her 17 at the time of the barnyard romps.
"Why?"
She snorted. "Why? Because I wanted things, pretty things, and I..." She shrugged. My eyes followed the jiggling of her tits for a moment. "I have no regrets, though. How'd you like them?"
"I was surprised," I said. "I never really got too much out of the idea of watching a woman with a dog or any other animals, really. I bought them because I thought I recognized your face."
"What surprised you?"
"That it aroused me so much watching you orgasm like that, over and over, with the dogs and the horse and all. You weren't faking, were you?"
She shook her head. "I wanted to do it, but at first I was a little inhibited about doing it in front of a camera. Especially with animals." She paused. "So they gave me some pills that made me -- more relaxed about things. Anyhow, I'd like to see the tapes."
After a few seconds, I remembered to close my mouth. "You're kidding. You never saw them?"
She shook her head, her mouth filled with wine. "I was underage to see such things. The law wouldn't want me to lose my innocence by seeing such things. Can I see them?"
"Sure. I'll give them to you."
"No -- I want to see them with you, see how you react seeing me with a dog. And men." There was a clear challenge in her tone and posture.
She refilled her glass -- nearly emptying the bottle in the process -- put her feet up on the coffee table and took a sip, watching me over the rim of the glass. Her eyes were huge and liquid brown and knowing. She lowered the glass. "Well?" She smoothed the calf-length plaid skirt, accentuating the length and shapeliness of those fine legs.
"Now?"
"Why not?"
"Do you always answer a question with another question?"
"Do I?"
Game, set and match. With more than a little unease, I rose and loaded the first tape into the VCR, then sat on the couch a foot or so from Inez, maintaining what had become her comfort zone around me. But as the crude titles flashed, she glanced at me. "Why are you all the way over there? Come closer."
By the time young Inez on the screen was at the center of a swarm of men, her breathing was shallower and her nipples were clearly swollen inside the burgundy leotard. When screen Inez was being fucked by the second helper, the genuine article on the couch with me was twisting her hands in her lap and shifting from side to side. And then the first dog was fucking his knot into her.
"This is really hot!" she breathed. She grabbed my hand and used it to pull her shirt to her thighs, then jammed my knuckles against the soaked crotch of her leotard. She ground her pussy against my hand, moaning softly. "Oh, yes, I remember how it filled me..."
"Wait'll you see the Great Dane," I muttered. My cock was as stiff as a piece of iron.
Watching her younger self with the ram seemed to take some of the edge off for her, but when she saw the Great Dane hunching his massive hindquarters, she fumbled the snaps open at her crotch and dragged her panties out of the way. "Put your fingers in me!" she hissed, forcing my hand against her wet crotch -- not that I put up any resistance. I extended two fingers and they slid into her pussy. She was a steamy, swampy morass inside. "He was so huge!"
I reached over to tweak her nipples through the leotard. She shivered.
"Fuck me," she said softly, urgently. "Fuck me hard. I need to be fucked."
I looked at her, a bit surprised. Not that Inez never used such language -- it was rare, but she did when the situation merited it, such as in discussing the job market or Rush Limbaugh's relationship to accuracy -- but her tone was different. So was her face, especially her eyes. She seemed utterly consumed by lust, as if another Inez had emerged from some inner hibernation.
"Come on, fuck me, give it to me -- ream me out!" She said, her voice hoarse and her tone throaty. She pulled my hand from between her legs, drew her knees up to her chest and stripped off her panties. She sat her heels on the edge of the couch cushion on either side of her hips and thrust forward with her cunt. "Give it to me, you fucker!"
Her eyes never left the screen, where young Inez had her legs up and over the Dane's back, holding on for dear life as the huge beast shagged madly into her. She grabbed my hand by the wrist and thrust it frantically against her cunt. I easily slipped a third finger into her slick, hungry pussy.
"More! Give -- me -- MORE!"
She moaned and jerked when my pinky slid into her open pussy. Holding my forearm in both her hands, she jerked my fingers back and forth in her cunt as if she was holding a dildo. "More...more...more..."
On the screen, the overheated young woman lay back, arms wide to each side, head bobbing and shaking loosely while her hips shook in time with the thrusts from big dog. On the sofa, the overheated young woman was jabbing my hand in her crotch and ramming her cunt with my fingers.
"MORE!"
More? Inez had a very petite frame, and it simply didn't seem possible. On the other hand -- so to speak -- the young Inez on the screen was taking a dick as thick as her arm and loving it.
"Give...it...to...me!" she grunted.
I folded my thumb across my palm and watched in astonishment as she drove my hand slowly into her cunt. It was difficult getting the wide base of my hand past her pubic bones, but she kept pushing her twat forward while driving my hand inward. I used my free hand to pull her pussy lips clear, and I watched and felt my hand slide wrist-deep into her molten pussy.
"Yessss..." She began bucking her hips, fucking my hand inside her cunt and arching her pelvis downward to rub her clitoris against the side of my wrist. "Fuck it -- fuck it -- fuck it -- "
On the screen, young Inez was screaming and cumming abundantly beneath the almost motionless dog: tie time. On the sofa, Inez was softly howling and cumming abundantly. And when Screen Inez had finally taken all of the dog's hot and copious jism and seemed sated for the moment, Sofa Inez was far from finished, now pounding my hand into her. I was worried about hurting her. She wasn't worried about anything. While the Energizer Bunny might have kept going...and going...and going, this sexy South American bunny kept cumming...and cumming...and cumming.
"I want to suck your cock, swallow your cum, make you cum in my mouth, drink you down..."
The thought had a lot of appeal. However, given that I was somewhat less well-endowed than the Great Dane, getting my cock to the level of her mouth simply wasn't feasible while my hand was buried in her snatch. I pointed out this logistical dilemma to her.
"Don't care -- gotta swallow it, taste it." She pulled my hand back through the tightest part of her cunt. Her eyes rolled upward in their sockets, showing the whites. With a flick of her foot, she pushed the coffee table on its casters back from the sofa, then crouched in front of me. She unzipped me, pulled out my dick and promptly sucked it to the back of her mouth.While the screen behind her shifted to a shot of her on her hands and knees, presenting to a donkey who was being ably assisted by a chunky brunette, Inez gobbled my prick noisily, slurping and sucking very, very hard.
But Inez was not content, not by a long shot. She groped behind her back with one hand until her fingers found the empty wine bottle. She set it on its base on the floor between her legs and lowered her pussy onto it. She took the neck into her cunt and started rolling her hips -- all the time sucking away at my dick -- and gradually drove the bottle into her pussy all the way to the top of the main label.
The deeper she took the bottle, the deeper she seemed to hunger for my cock in her throat. Her head went lower and lower and then my glans was jammed through the constriction at the back of her throat and into her gullet. She was groaning and the vibrations were doing nothing to calm the bubbling in my nuts.
Inez started bobbing her head and hips simultaneously, backing my cock out of her throat until only the knob was in her mouth as she raised her hips till maybe half the bottle's neck was still in her pussy. Then she'd drive her mouth back down on my cock until her nose was buried in my pubic hair while forcing her cunt down around the bottle. And none of this was happening slowly. She was bouncing on that bottle and bobbing on my cock. And cumming.
"Oh, shit," I moaned, and my balls lurched. She held my pricktip in her mouth and vacuumed the cum up out of my balls. I spurted long and hard and then again, and Inez swallowed and sucked for more. The more I came, the crazier she seemed to get and the more of the bottle she absorbed into her vagina. By the time I was dried out, the top of the "Chateauneuf de Pape" identification was hidden inside her still hungry cunt.
She wasn't done with my dick, though, and kept sucking as urgently as before, her tongue moving against the underside of my cock and making me want to scream with that familiar post-ejaculation hypersensitivity. I just couldn't give any more or take any more.
"Enough," I gasped.
Her eyes suddenly focused, and her mouth work halted. She let my limp dick ooze out of her mouth -- and stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as she came yet again. This time, though, she'd had enough and slowly dislodged the bottle from her twat. It came out with a little pussy fart and a slurp. She set the bottle out of the way and sat heavily on the floor, knees pulled up with her arms around them. She panted rapidly for a few moments. So did I. Neither of us spoke audibly, but our eyes were in alignment.
"Geez, am I sore!" she remarked, climbing unsteadily to her feet. Her knees visibly wobbled. She placed a throw pillow on the sofa and sat carefully next to me. She took my hand in both of hers and examined it. "I can't believe I did that."
"Me neither. Especially when you grabbed my forearm and started using my hand like a dildo."
"Hmmmm. How'd you like it?"
"It was an amazing turn on."
"Really..." She seemed to be pondering that.
"And you couldn't get enough into your sweet pussy to scratch the itch, either."
She seemed to be thinking about something as she distantly said, "So I guess you know, now."
"I'm not sure." I suspected, though.
"Danny, I really like you, and I really like your company and going places and doing things with you."
"You just don't find me attractive."
"No! That's not it -- "
I stood. "Hey, my ego can handle the hit. Would you like some more wine?"
She giggled and blushed. "Not the same bottle?"
I shook my head. "I have a lovely Riesling."
"Please."
I went into the kitchen. A moment later, she stood in the doorway, watching as I uncorked the bottle and took down a pair of glasses. "I do find you attractive. It's just that -- well, now that you know about me, how can you respect me? How could you treat me?"
I stared her in the eyes for a moment. "The same, but with more touching...I hope."
Her eyes became wet. "No," she said. "No, you couldn't. You couldn't kiss me without knowing what had been in my mouth. You couldn't put it in me without remembering the dogs and goat and donkey. And yet you couldn't be with me without thinking how so many months passed when I would not do with you what I would do with animals."
I poured some wine and tried to smile gently. "Of course I could, Inez. That was a long time ago." I handed her a glass. She sniffed it, swirled it expertly and took a sip, aspirating the wine against her palate.
"This is lovely," she said. She abruptly upended the glass and drained the wine. "Danny, you're wrong."
"No, I know myself and -- "
"Not that. About the time. It wasn't a long time ago."
"But you said it was 10 years ago."
"For the film, yes. But I haven't stopped. I still do it, every chance I get."
The numbness started in my belly.
"Men always get possessive and demanding, wanting to trade attention or favors or companionship for sex, then acting like they own me. But the animals put no conditions on their affections. I prefer it -- I enjoy it more than I've ever enjoyed any man...or woman. I can just let go and indulge myself. I love the feeling when a big dog gets his knot in me and starts swelling and squirting. Nothing has ever given me as much pure, hedonistic pleasure -- and with no strings, no worries."
Her nipples were hard inside the leotard.
"I don't need men -- or women -- for sex, Danny. And that's why we can't see each other again. Because I know what you'd be feeling every time we were together." She put her glass on the counter. "I'm sorry it has to be this way." She looked truly sad. "Tell me one thing?"
I nodded mutely.
"What do you feel?"
I took a deep breath and moistened my dry lips. "Jealousy."
She inclined her head slightly. "Thank you for being honest. Good-bye."
I stood, rooted in the kitchen, as she went into the living room. I heard movements, then the door opening and closing. I slowly raised my glass and sipped the wine. It was, indeed, lovely. And I felt totally detached, numb, as if I were moving in a dream. I went into the living room and locked the door -- and noticed that the tapes were gone.
I never saw them -- or her -- again. But I cannot forget what happened that afternoon.
And, to my surprise, I still cannot erase the images from those films from my memory. To this day, when I see a pretty girl walking a large dog, I remember what Inez told me and all-too-vividly recall the scenes from the tapes. I become aroused and feel a quick rush of anger.
No -- not anger.
Jealousy. | 3 |
6,679 | Gwen & Wendy - Amateur Astronomers | "You mean that's it? Twenty miles back?" Gwen said, a little shocked.
"Yup. That's it. That's the last you'll see of civilization," I told her.
"This really is like Mars," she said.
I laughed. "It's OK. There's no phone, but there is the truck. And it's summer, so we won't get snowed in or anything. Besides, we can always walk," I said.
"Long walk. But nothing's gonna go wrong with your dad's truck, is it?" she asked hopefully.
"I doubt it. It's only a year old. And dad had it checked before we left."
"That's good," Gwen sighed. "So what's the cabin like? Real little?"
"Uh huh. One room. One bed. Mom and dad bought it before we were born. They've been trying to sell it and get a bigger one somewhere else," I said.
"Any luck?" Gwen asked.
"Not yet. Not many people want one this small, I guess."
"Are there any other cabins nearby?" Gwen wanted to know.
"Huh uh. Well, there is one on the other side of the lake, but it's pretty far away. You'd have to walk ten miles to get to it, and it doesn't have a phone either, I don't think," I replied.
"Sure hope we've got enough of everything for two weeks," Gwen said.
"I think so. We packed enough, plus mom packed more junk that I wouldn't have even thought about: extra batteries and stuff. Good thing she thought of all that," I said.
"Really. Your folks are really great to let us use the place, too."
"That's what it's there for," I said, echoing my dad's sentiments.
"Wendy? Where's the can opener?"
"In the box somewhere," I replied, shouting across the cabin.
"Which one?" she asked.
"I don't know. Try the...."
"Nevermind. I found it," she shouted before I finished.
I came out ten minutes later after drying my hair as best I could with just a towel. That was all I had wrapped around me when I went out to check on supper.
"How's it going, chef?" I said.
"Not bad, but I don't know the first thing about starting THAT up," Gwen said, pointing to the gas grill.
"Oh I know how to do that," I said, and started fiddling with the tank.
"Jeez. Why don't you get dressed first or something," she scolded.
"Doesn't matter. Nobody here but you and me," I returned.
"Oh. Yeah. I forgot," she murmured.
It only took a few minutes before we had the grill going and a couple of hot dogs roasting away. We sat on the back porch and talked. We talked about school. Where we were going to college. We were definitely going to the same college. But which one we weren't sure.
Any place that had a good astronomy school. Cal Tech was the best as far as we were concerned.
It was close enough and our folks could afford anything. Gwen and I had been friends forever. Or since junior high, at least. We met in astronomy club and that became the basis of our friendship. Over the years we had done a lot of stuff together. Field trips and so on. Mostly with our school clubs, though.
This was the first time we had been away alone together. The cabin was in the mountains two hundred miles north of the city. LA. We both had our scopes with us.
I went back inside and got dressed. Gwen had stuff ready when I came back out a few minutes later.
We ate dinner and then went back inside and unpacked the rest of our stuff. Gwen took a shower while I went back out and set up the telescopes. It was only seven when she came back out and not quite dark yet.
"Can't see much yet," I said. "Still too light."
Gwen walked up to her scope and adjusted it. She pointed it up and took a quick look. Nothing. I could tell by the expression on her face. She swung it back down and sat on the swing.
"We should get some chairs out here. Something sturdier to sit on," she told me.
"Mmm," I agreed. I went inside to look for some. I found two old wooden folding chairs in the closet and a couple of cushions that looked like they'd been through World War II.
"Have to do, I'm afraid," I said apologetically. "Can't think of everything," I sighed.
"We'll know better next time. Bring something to sit on. How dumb can we get," she stated.
"Between you and me, pretty dumb," I chided.
Gwen laughed. "But smart enough to get into Cal Tech."
"True," I said. "But that's a different kind of smart."
"Do you really think so?" Gwen asked seriously.
"Yup. My dad says so all the time. Common sense. Takes years to learn."
"I don't know," Gwen said, unconvinced.
"Look at my mom. Look at all the stuff she remembered to pack and we didn't," I said.
"But that's experience, not just common sense," Gwen said.
"Hard to tell the difference," I said.
"I suppose," said Gwen, conceding the point.
We talked more for a while, mostly about what we knew we'd see in the skies, and then fell silent.
We fiddled with our scopes. I was concentrating on the sky. Gwen was looking at the shoreline on the other side of the lake.
"Who are these guys?" she asked, breaking the long silence.
"What?" I said, not quite catching her question.
"Who's this?" she said, pointing with her finger across the lake while keeping her eye to the scope.
I moved my scope down and tried to find where she was looking. It took a minute.
"I see 'em," I said. I looked carefully at the couple walking along the edge of the lake. "I don't know. Don't recognize them," I said, not interested.
"Do a lot of people just walk up here?" Gwen asked.
"How should I know," I said.
"Well I thought maybe they lived in the other cabin and you'd know them or something," she said.
"Not really. Dad said the old guy who used to own it died two years ago and it was up for sale too."
"Oh," Gwen replied.
I turned my scope back up to the sky. Stars were starting to appear. I was starting to get into it when Gwen interrupted again.
"Check this out. I don't believe it," she said quietly.
"What? What's going on?" I asked taking my eye from the scope.
She knew it would take me time to get my scope lined up to see, so she moved away from her's.
"Here. Look for yourself," she told me.
I leaned over to her scope and peeked in. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the dark view the scope afforded. Slowly I began to discern figures moving, but I couldn't make out what was happening.
"What's going on?" I asked, not moving from the lens.
"They're in the water," Gwen said.
"So?" I replied.
"She's sucking him off," Gwen giggled helplessly.
"What?" I said, straining to understand the scene with my brain now as well as my eyes. As soon as Gwen supplied me with the overall picture I realized what I was looking at. Gwen had moved in so close I couldn't see it at first. There it was, though. Her mouth moving over him again and again. I couldn't believe it.
"Let me see," Gwen said.
I moved aside. "Let them alone, would you, you pervert," I laughed.
"No. This is amazing," she said, and went back to watch them.
"Gwen?" I said, shocked.
"Oh come on. They don't even know it. It's not hurting anyone," she said.
"You're a sicko, you know that?" I told her, and went back to my own scope. I tried not to pay any attention to her as she kept watch on our neighbors. About five minutes went by. I was awakened by curiosity.
"So what's happening now?" I asked as uncuriously as possible.
"Not much. They're done." Gwen took her eye from the scope.
"They went inside," she said matter-of-factly.
I didn't bother to ask the logical conclusion of the act that was in progress.
"Are you done playing peeping tom now? Want to look at the stars?" I suggested pithily.
"Oh come on. Where's your spirit of adventure? You can't tell me you aren't part voyeur if you want to look at the stars," she grinned.
I had never thought of it that way.
"I don't know if that applies," I said honestly.
"Does to me," Gwen said simply.
"You mean you really enjoyed that?" I asked.
"I suppose, yes. Otherwise I wouldn't have done it," she said."It was like something was drawing me to watch," she said.
"Curiosity," I said, remembering my own feeling.
"No, more than that. I wanted to see THEM. It's like I was an unwanted intruder that no one could see," she said.
"That's bizarre," I said.
Gwen just looked at me and shrugged. She readjusted her scope and went back to looking at what she had been looking at before. I gave up on her and went on looking at the stars.
It was at least half an hour before Gwen nudged me once more.
"What now? Are they doing it in mid-air?" I said.
"No. Just in bed," Gwen said.
I was caught off guard.
"You mean they're really doing it?" I said, turning my head away from my scope.
"Yes, they're really doing it," she mimicked.
"Where?" I said unbelievingly.
"In bed, I said. Take a look," Gwen said, and offered her scope to me.
Instead, I trained my own to the location of interest.
"Couldn't pass it up, huh?" Gwen kidded me.
"Oh, stop it. I just want to see...," I started but decided not to bother finishing and concentrated on positioning my telescope. When I got the picture in view, I was more or less aghast.
"Ugh," I said disgustedly.
"Really," Gwen agreed.
They were on the bed in their cabin making love. No covers or anything. He was on top. There was a lamp lit inside, which is the only reason we could see anything at all. Why they had let it stay on, I don't know. Maybe they figured, wrongly, that no one was going to be around watching them. The whole picture was quite clear. We could zoom in as close as we wanted to. I dared myself to do it and found myself trapped. I watched his cock going up and down, disappearing into her between her legs. It was long and hard. I moved back a little and looked at him. He was young, about twenty-five, and lean and hard, but not overly muscular. But you could see his biceps straining to hold himself up. I wondered if he was sweating. I couldn't tell through the scope. I moved the scope over to her face and zoomed in. She was pretty. She had long hair, light-colored. I couldn't tell if it was blond or light brown or not. I moved back down and looked at her legs. They were OK. I went back up to see her boobs. They were pretty big.
"Bigger than mine, that's for sure," I said out loud inadvertently.
"What?" Gwen said. "You don't even have one," she said.
"No, dope. I mean her. I was looking at her boobs," I said secretively.
"Oh. Yeah. Not bad," Gwen said. I could tell she had had a look at them to confirm this.
"How would you know?" I said.
Gwen didn't say anything. I figured she knew I was right and had lost the point. But just then I felt her hand close around my breast under my cutoff top.
"Gwen?" I half shouted, jumping back, surprised and laughing.
"Definitely," she rejoined, pointing at me and laughing with me.
"God!" I said. "Keep your hands to yourself," I warned her.
"OK. OK. Just kidding. I had to find out, though," she laughed.
"So now you know," I said.
Gwen had gone back to watching them. I thought about it for a second, then I did too.
They had switched positions meanwhile, and she was now riding him. It wasn't as much fun to watch because I couldn't see him anymore. I watched his face for a while and looked at his chest for a long time.
I began to wonder if he would come and then remembered he'd already had an orgasm before in the lake.
I looked down in between. I saw her leg as she rose up and down him but couldn't see much in between. I moved up and saw her upper body going up and down more than her lower body was. Her boobs bounced. Suddenly, she leaned over, and I lost sight of her. I readjusted my view and pulled back a little.
She was leaning over his chest, and he was playing with her boobs a little. I was getting bored. I thought about moving back up to the sky and thought about what I would see there. The stars seemed cold. I tried to move around to get a more interesting picture, but I needn't have. She dismounted him so quickly I thought she left. I saw his face and knew he must be about to come.
I moved my scope so quickly down to catch him that I went past and had to pull back. She, whoever she was, was there already, holding him in her hands and pumping him gently. He came a second after I focused, and she moved her head behind him but not over him. She did not want to take him in her mouth now. Instead, she licked him and held him as he spurted over her hand.
"Whew," Gwen said softly.
"Shh!" I said, as if they could hear us. Gwen muffled a laugh.
"Stop it!" I said, concentrating on what was happening. Gwen quieted down.
There wasn't much else. They kissed a lot, and it got pretty boring. I stopped looking. Gwen was already sitting on the porch swing. I got up and stretched my aching back and buttocks, reaching down to rub them.
"So you shouldn't watch that kind of stuff, huh? Make you go blind, eh?" Gwen chided.
"Oh, cool it. You're the one that got me started," I said. I went over and sat beside her.
"But you couldn't resist, could you? Admit it," she taunted.
"Yeah. But God knows why. It's so dumb," I said.
Gwen didn't reply. We swung the swing together. "Do you figure they're married?" Gwen asked.
"Probably," I answered. "Probably on their honeymoon," I added. "Why?"
"Who else does it in the lake?" I said.
"Probably," Gwen laughed.
I thought about my own folks. I wondered if they'd done it here. I tried to figure how old they'd've been when they first got the place.
"Shit! That's the year I was born," I said without thinking. I could see Gwen calculating quickly.
"You mean you figure...," Gwen started.
"Shush," I said. But it was too late. Gwen was giggling.
"God, you're unbearable," I told her straightfacedly. And then I started laughing.
"Do you think...," Gwen said, not even finishing, but pointing across the lake.
We both broke out laughing again.
"Maybe she'll grow up to like astronomy...," I started.
"And look over here...," Gwen burst out laughing.
I cracked up and bent over double to try to stop myself from laughing so hard. Unfortunately, it caused my back muscles to cramp on my side.
"Oh!" I said in laughter and pain, reaching back to hold my back and side.
"Ow!" I said again as a new cramp began.
"What's the matter?" Gwen asked, still giggling.
"Cramp," I said, putting my hand to my side. "Here, let me rub it," she said quickly.
She put her hand over onto my back and began to rub it where my hand was. I turned immediately away from her so she could push against it. She did and continued to massage my back until the pain lifted.
"Sitting too long," I said.
"I'm sure they won't have any cramps," Gwen said, nodding across the lake.
I laughed, and my back cramped a little again in the same spot.
"Wow!" I said, stiffening up.
"Relax," Gwen said, kneaded it till it began to relax again.
A half minute later, she slowed down.
"Don't stop, it's not gone yet," I said to her.
"Well then, put your feet up or something because I can't reach it this way," she complained.
I swung my legs up to the end of the porch swing and put them out under the arm. I tried to sit up straight to keep the muscles from cramping again. Gwen rubbed at the lower part of my back as best she could. It probably wasn't working too well.
"Turn over," she commanded.
I scrunched and groaned and pushed and wiggled my body over the wooden surface till I had turned over. I had to scoot up and put my shoulders on Gwen's lap for her to reach my back.
"That's better. At least I can reach it now," she said, and continued to rub my low back.
"Oh god, that feels good," I said. And it did. My muscles must really have gone into stasis sitting there that long.
"You would think we'd be used to it by now," I said.
"I don't think we usually sit and watch uninterrupted that long," Gwen remarked.
"That's true," I said. "We usually don't watch that though," I added.
"Would be a strange sky if we did," Gwen tacked on.
I smiled. Her hands felt so good I almost drifted off. She moved them up my back, and their warmth was inviting sleep. She didn't hesitate to put her hands under the back of my loose top. I didn't care. It felt good. She massaged my shoulders, and it took the ache of driving out of them. Her hands moved down my sides over my rib cage and massaged that too. It all felt good. She concentrated on my lower back with the heel of her hand. She stretched over to reach the far side of me, and I lifted a little to readjust. I turned my head inwards and looked up. Her breasts were hanging directly above me, covered only by a top like mine. They were bigger. Fuller.
I tried not to notice and turned my head the other way. But I didn't want to look at the lake. I wanted to look at her stomach up close for some reason. I turned my head right back.
"Make up your mind," Gwen said, irritated by my shifting position so much.
"Sorry. I'll stay here," I told her.
She resumed her hand motions. I stared at her bare stomach. I looked at the marks and small downy hairs and her belly button. I could not help but see the beginning of her breasts, although I did not look up at them. I forgot what her hands were doing. I was engrossed in her stomach. My finger appeared at it without my knowing I had moved my arm. It rested on her belly button.
I pushed my finger into it, trying to be funny.
"Stop that!" Gwen said, almost laughing.
I gently moved it in and out several times.
"In, out, in, out," I crooned.
"God. Stop that, will you?" Gwen laughed.
I withdrew my hands, and my eyes shifted upwards. I found myself looking at the bottoms of her breasts. They were large and nicely rounded.Guys would definitely like to hold them, I told myself. I wondered if any ever had. She had never told me. I hadn't ever asked. I tried to see her nipples. Only part of them occasionally came into view as she bent further over to rub me lower. I suddenly felt her hands go under the waist of my cutoffs.
Those cutoffs were big. They had been my dad's jeans. I had inherited them. Her hand slid under easily and went right under my underwear too. She pulled it back out again right away and continued massaging me the same way for a while. Her hand felt good still.
Warm. It moved off to the side of my hip and went further down the side of my leg, then back up and out. As she did it again and again, I went back into a small trance and found myself looking at her again. I moved my hand a little on her stomach back and forth. It was moist-sticky from being in one spot so long. It bumped across. I lifted it and turned it over. The back of my hand was dry and moved to the side of her stomach easily. It tickled her a little. She twisted underneath it.
Her hand went to the other hip suddenly and I started. I enjoyed what I was doing without much thought or concern... She kept massaging me. Her hand went down the middle of my bottom, rubbing with the heel of her hand. Then down one side and the other. Then she began using her fingers. She massaged and dug her fingers into my bottom. I was a little nervous for a second, but decided to trust her. She kept touching me and soon it began to feel good. Soon it began to feel less massaging and more touching. I still trusted her.
Her fingers slid between and she moved them apart. They slid right down to my hole and I knew she meant what she was doing, yet I could not stop her. I told myself she was still just rubbing me in a massaging sort of fashion. She touched me this way for what seemed like forever, her finger exploring over the top of my hole, threatening to go in, but only pushing at it slightly. It made me squirm and push myself down onto the hard swing. I got wet in between.
Suddenly, her fingers touched the back of my opening and nearly slid in. I was unready, unaware and unsure of what to do. I wanted to stop her then, but she put her fingers inside of me and I could not stop her. They went right in. The wetness they brought back she dragged back over my dry hole excited me to an unbelievable peak. It wetted me more and I wanted her to push in, even there. I guess she knew what I was thinking. She pressed her finger into me and I tensed. She eased up and withdrew it, then pushed again a little and withdrew again, then circled it with her fingertip. I relaxed again and her fingers went back down lower. I could not help but raise my bottom and she reached inside of me again. I sighed softly as her fingers entered me, my breathing coming faster. Her fingers pushed into me again and again till I felt myself gripping them and responding without any control on my part. I was afraid.
"Gwen please," I said weakly.
She leaned over me and pushed her fingers underneath me completely, finding my clitoris. She rubbed it as best she could, but it was awkward for her hand, I could tell. She took her hand out completely.
"I can't reach you. Turn over please," Gwen said quietly.
I twisted myself around and looked up at her.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"Playing with you," she replied succinctly.
"Why?"
"Because I am, that's all. Do you want me to finish or not?" she asked.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked, knowing that I would not stop her.
"I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't want to do it," she replied. "Do you mind?" she added.
"Maybe we'd better go inside," I said, starting to get up.
Gwen put her hand down on my stomach. "No. Just stay where you are, OK?"
Her hand came up to my face and went to my cheek. She brushed it. I looked at her eyes to see what she was feeling and saw her looking at me deeply in thought.
"It's OK," I reassured her. "I - "I faltered, "I don't mind so much as long as it's you," I told her, taking her hand from my cheek and holding it in my own.
She smiled. I put her hand down deliberately on my stomach and moved it in a circle. She smiled again and began to move her hand on her own. I reached down lower and unzipped my cutoffs and undid the snap.
"There," I said.
Gwen's hand stayed on my stomach. She touched it lightly and I found I had lost the urgency I'd had only a minute before. I put my hand up her side and under her cutoff t-shirt. I felt the side of her body and then moved directly over her breast. I felt the nipple go by under my palm. Gwen reacted by closing her eyes. I touched her breast lightly as she did my stomach. Then her hand wandered upward and touched my breasts, too. We did this for quite some time, stimulating each other gradually. At last I reached up and pulled her hand downward. I was beginning to become excited again and needed to feel her touch. She accepted my guidance and her hand floated over the top of my exposed underpants. I pushed my mound up into her hand. She smiled and rubbed the top of it, patting it gently. It made me want to come when she did that! I squeezed her breast in my hand and tried to touch her other with my other hand. It wouldn't reach easily, but I traced it before I put my hand back down again. Gwen smiled at me again, and her hand pressed harder into my mound.
"Touch me Gwen," I pleaded.
She used her fingers to press deep into my panties, but it wasn't enough. I pushed up to see if it would help. She moved her fingers lower and suddenly they slipped under the edge of my panties. They rushed across my hairs, brushing them and searching. I was so wet that she had no trouble in finding my clitoris. She rubbed it with her fingers. I closed my eyes and moved against her fingers. The more she rubbed the closer I came. She speeded up and suddenly I put my hands down on top of hers. I came, pushing myself up into her hand, holding her there. Gwen waited patiently till I lifted my own hands.
Then she closed her hand around my mound and just held it for a while.
It felt good. I didn't know what to say. Gwen smiled down at me and her hand began to move playfully around me again.
"OK?" she said.
"Mmm hmm," I murmured. Then I lifted up her hand to stop her and sat up. "Inside?" I asked.
"OK," she replied, and got off the swing.
We took our telescopes in with us. There was only one bed. We had planned on sharing it anyway.
But not, I was sure, like this. Gwen lay down and I sat beside her. I let my hand go down to her cutoffs.
"Would you like me to do you, too?" I asked.
"Of course," she said. "If you want to," she added.
I smiled back at her and rubbed her groin to stimulate her and answer her question at the same time.
I was glad she was going to let me return the favor. I thought I should. In a way I was eager to. It was an adventure and she was my best friend. I could trust her. She lay back and put her hands behind her head.
It raised her cutoff top some and I smiled at the fact that she had, even inadvertently, exposed her breasts to me. I leaned down and kissed them and looked up at her to see her face. She had closed her eyes, but I could tell from her mouth that I had done something she had wanted me to do. I molded her breasts in my hands and took her nipples into my mouth. I sucked them and squeezed her breasts gently in my hands. It felt wonderful. Her nipples got hard and I bit them a little, sliding my fingers over them wetly. I slid down slowly, licking her stomach and preparing to remove her cutoffs.
I knew what I wanted to do. She was waiting for me. I unbuttoned her cutoffs and unzipped them quickly. I tugged them down her legs and her pants came off with them. I put them on the floor and turned back to look at her. She had her eyes open and was watching me. I put my hand down on the top of her thigh and stroked it lovingly, smiling at her. My hand wandered to the inside of her leg and she closed her eyes again. I looked at her.
She was pretty. My head turned to look at her legs where I was caressing. She had slim legs. I moved my hand down and touched her toes and feet and caressed up her leg slowly. When I reached her inner thighs again, she moved her legs apart more. She lifted her knee up and I moved between them, pushing the other leg out towards the edge of the bed with my hand.
I put my hands up to her mound and moved them around, caressing her gently. I smoothed the hairs back and moved them away from the center of her. It exposed her lips and I put my finger to them, moving them lightly back and forth. I was going to play with her with my fingers, just as she had done to me. Only I could see her in front of me. This was different. She had just touched me, not seen me. I wondered if she had wanted to. I was going to ask her, but didn't. It would have broken the spell I thought. Instead I just moved my fingertip over her again and again. I knew where to concentrate at the top, and finally I was just going in little circles around her hidden button. Gwen was beginning to respond: moving her hips in a slow rhythm. I knew just how she felt. I felt it with her as I touched her and saw her expressions. I knew when it felt very good. It was fascinating to play with her and keep her and see her in that state of suspended pleasure. I wanted it to last a long time. I deliberately withheld excitement from building up too fast just to watch myself touching her privately. I moved my fingertip up to the very top of her and pulled the hood back with it, temporarily exposing her clitoris. I was so fascinated by it that I used my other hand to hold back the hood and keep it exposed while my fingertip roamed over it again and again.I knew Gwen would come quickly if I kept doing that, but I couldn't help myself. I looked at her and knew with her eyes closed tight that she wanted to come soon. I took her clit between the tips of my thumb and forefinger and slid it back into its little hood, then out again carefully. I did it again and once more. Then many times quickly. Gwen's body stiffened and her legs pressed together as I rubbed her after her climax. She gripped my hand in her thighs and held it there until the spasms between her legs subsided. She released my hand, and I smiled at her when she opened her eyes again. She just looked at me. There wasn't anything to say between us. What had happened had happened.
We both understood it.
I smiled at her again, and she let her leg fall down. I pulled the bedspread up over her and covered her, tucking her in. She smiled at me broadly, laughing silently at my motherly gesture. I sat up at the edge of the bed and undid my cutoffs. I took them off sitting there, and, leaving my underwear and top on, climbed into bed beside her.
"Thanks," Gwen said, "I needed that."
"I did, too," I said. "I've never done that before," I told her.
"Neither have I," Gwen told me. "Watching them made me horny," she said.
"Me too," I added. "How come you...," I started.
"I don't know. At first I was just rubbing your back because you needed it, but it felt good touching you, too, after a while," Gwen said.
"Oh," I said.
There was a silence.
"Have you ever done it?" she asked. "You know, with a guy?"
"No," I told her.
"I haven't yet either," she said quietly.
We didn't say much for a while. I slid down a little and began to get comfortable and a little sleepy.
Gwen looked at me and moved down beside me. We were facing each other.
She smiled at me again. I put my head down on the pillow.
Gwen put her hand up to my face and touched my cheek. I looked at her.
Her hair tumbled down beside her as she leaned on her elbow. I reached out and took it in my hand, threading it through my fingers. I did it several times. Gwen began brushing my hair from my forehead.
Then she leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I wanted to do the same for her, but she met me halfway and put her lips against mine instead. I held off for a second, but it was too late. She pressed her lips against mine, and I kissed her back. We stood back and looked at each other, trying to gauge each other's feelings. Then we kissed again, slowly. Our lips met and clung, twisting across time. Gwen's hand went down to my chest and rubbed my breasts with the back of her hand.
I did the same for her. We kissed for a very long time, touching one another gently. Then we moved closer together, and the warmth was intoxicating.
We pressed into one another and held each other in our arms. We were lovers. I touched her back and bottom, and she caressed me. I was on my back, and she leaned over me, pressing her body against mine. Our legs met and crossed, twining for warmth. I felt her hairs on my thigh and became excited. I kissed her harder, and she responded by opening her mouth to me. Our tongues played together wetly.
Our bodies mixed warmly. I relished the feeling of her breasts against mine. Gwen surprised me and climbed right on top of me, putting both her legs between mine. She lay on top of me, and we kissed more. Her hands went under my head and held it as we kissed. Mine went to her back and sides and bottom. I loved to touch her bottom. It was soft. The hairs there were downy. Further down, I could almost reach her sex. I pressed my hands lower to find it, and she pushed her body upward toward my head to help me reach her. I began to slip my fingers inside of her again. She moaned pleasingly, but slid down so that I couldn't reach her anymore.
She flipped her hair back and then kissed my neck. It tickled a little, and I giggled. Gwen smiled and kept going. She lowered herself further and kissed the bones in between and above my breasts. That felt hot and very sexy. She kissed there hard, and I sighed excitedly.
"Gwen," I said softly.
"Um hum," she said back affirmatively.
She kissed my breasts and warmed my nipples with her tongue. I stroked her hair and held her head in place lightly, letting her move it as she wished until she found my nipples. Then I would keep it there till she moved it back to the other side. She lay down and used her hands to hold and squeeze my breasts while she kissed my stomach. I became very excited anticipating what I knew was going to happen. Gwen kissed her way down my stomach, and when she reached my panties, she tugged at the edge of them to pull them down. I lifted my bottom, and she slowly pulled them from me, down just below my mound. She moved to one side, putting her legs over me, and with one hand removed them completely. I helped her by bringing my knees up. She had to go under the covers to get them all the way off. When she lay back down, she parted my legs and moved in between them even lower than before.
I was surprised to see her where she was. She lay down and moved my legs apart, looking at me in between. I watched her. She kissed my inner thighs, and I lay down and closed my eyes. I felt her kissing higher up, and then finally felt her fingers moving through the blond hairs surrounding me. She swept them aside and parted my lips. I felt a sudden rush of wetness inside. The next thing I felt was like a hot thing surrounding my clitoris. It was her tongue.
I clutched the sheet in my fingers. Her tongue lashed at me, and it was not as hot, but wetter feeling the next time. It still felt good. Very good. Gwen continued to lick me slowly, and I began to react inside. I tensed and contracted every muscle in my groin and inside of my own pussy. Her tongue made me shiver in excitement. She moved me further apart with her fingers and pushed directly on top of my button with her tongue. The tip of it moved rapidly across my button clit, and I started to build to a new level of excitement. One step closer to orgasm. Gwen kept flicking at the top of my clit until I was moving excitedly underneath her. Then she licked me hard and flat with her tongue. Her fingers took over and played with me for a second or two. Her tongue must have needed a rest. But quickly she sucked my whole organ into her mouth, and I nudged closer to climax. She sucked me in and out of her mouth, and my pelvis was rising and falling quickly, matching her sucking action. She put her hands under my bottom and held it, forcing me up into her mouth. She sucked me hard right at the top of my clit, and I came. And came. And came. It was the longest, sweetest series of orgasms I'd ever had in my life. Gwen sucked me all through it till I pushed her away in protest. She pulled herself up and lay on top of me. I loved having her there and held her in my arms. She just put her head off to one side of mine and rested there. I knew what I had to do next.
I pushed her off of me gently and rolled over on top of her. She smiled at me, and I smiled back a little, but kissed her passionately right away so we wouldn't lose the feelings of the moment. She kissed me back eagerly, and when her tongue entered my mouth, I tasted my own wetness. I pressed my body hard into hers and kissed her back the more eagerly for the taste of it. It excited me. I kissed her neck and her chest and spent a short time sucking her nipples. I kissed her ribs, sticking out above her stomach, and then licked at her belly button. But I moved quickly down. Her dark brown hairs were so different than mine I stared at them almost in amazement. I saw her peeking through and moved to kiss her. She tasted divine. I let my tongue go around her and pulled her lips apart. I sucked her and sucked her, twisting my fingers inside of her slowly as I did so. I felt her contracting around them. I put one more finger inside of her and used my other fingertip to play with her clit while I tongued it at the same time. She was throbbing inside, and her body pressed hard into the bed. I flicked at the top of her clit, and she came immediately. I surrounded her clit with my mouth and pushed my fingers deep in her. She pushed against my fingers and made them go even deeper, her pelvis shaking against my mouth. When she dropped down to the bed, I released my fingers from her and held her legs in my arms, keeping her down on the bed. I sucked her clit again right away, and she climaxed a second time. While she came down, I lay my head between her legs and just let it rest there. In a minute or two, I climbed up to be beside her. I spooned into her body from behind, and she pulled my hands up to her breasts. We covered up in the sheet and spread and went to sleep.
The next morning, we separated and showered without saying much to each other. Gwen disappeared for a while, walking out into the woods. I was afraid maybe I'd done something wrong, but then figured that it was just what happened, and she needed to think. I didn't think about it too much. I was surprised at what we'd done, but thought that we'd done what we needed to do at the time.
[chunk missing here... anyone have the whole thing?]
Alissa didn't blush, but she went quiet again. So we walked on. About two miles out, we saw some animals. Just a couple of raccoons and rabbits, but Ali, for that was what she'd asked me to call her, Ali was amazed. I think if she'd had a camera or something, she'd have felt better. But she didn't think to bring hers with her when Gwen talked them into boating across the lake. She didn't figure she was going to use it. They hadn't planned on being gone long at all, in fact.
"Do you really think we can stay out for four hours?" Alissa asked, as if I had to give her permission.
"Who cares? You're on vacation, aren't you?" I said.
"A honeymoon isn't exactly a vacation," Alissa said.
"What's the problem?""You talk like you hate it," I said.
"No, it's not that, it's just that, well, Mark and I have been living together for so long already that getting married was sort of his idea and not mine. It was like we had this vacation coming up and he wanted some excuse to do nothing but fool around," she said.
"That's a shame. You guys seem like a real nice couple, though," I prompted.
"I think he's turning into a real jock sometimes the way he hangs out with the guys and footballs and baseballs himself to death. We don't do any of the things we started out doing when we first knew each other," Ali complained suddenly.
I wasn't sure I wanted to hear all her problems, but I decided to listen anyway.
"So what the hell did you marry him for?" I said.
"Because we were already married, I suppose. That just made it official," she said.
"I think you've just made a whopper," I told her flat out.
She laughed.
I felt her suddenly not behind me. I looked back and she was standing in the middle of the trail crying. Just standing there with her hands at her sides, crying big tears. I walked back to her and put my arms around her. She clung to me and sobbed. I had burst the dam and I knew it. I tried to think, to gauge where we were. There was nothing around to offer a comfortable place to sit and talk. So I toughened up my voice and spoke to her like a drill sergeant.
"Ten-hut," I said, pushing her away from me to arm's length. She laughed again in sobs, smiling at me and trying to regain herself.
"On your way, soldier. The squirrels are waiting," I joked.
She mock saluted me and I turned crisply to lead the way again. I decided not to speak to her. Instead, I led a brisker pace, so that we could get to the mine sooner. It might just walk it out of her, too. I turned only once to ask how she was doing, and one other time to point out a hawk circling high above.
"Damn, I wish I had my camera," she groaned.
I wondered if she was a real camera buff. It sounded like it. I knew enough about 35mm cameras to photograph the night sky. Gwen and I did our own developing. High-resolution black and white film. I saw it as just another aspect of astronomy mostly.
We didn't see much other wildlife, but when we hit the brook, Alissa jumped up and down like a little kid. She said she'd grown up with one just like it near her grandmother's house. She splashed around in it as we followed it up the trail.
"You're going to regret getting your sneakers soaked," I told her.
"Oh, who cares?" she retorted, as if she no longer needed my permission. Which she didn't in the first place.
I laughed at myself as well as her. I really was the motherly type. I couldn't help it. That was my personality.He spurted once into her tongue, and she choked a little. She kept her tongue going around him, spreading his come around his cock. She swallowed and tasted it a little. Then she went back for more. She sucked him into her mouth as he grew smaller. She was disappointed. She wanted more. She had expected more her first time.
"No, we got an apartment together right away. I never had the chance to go to college. I never wanted to, not until all my friends did and graduated and got really good jobs and did interesting stuff. Then I knew what a jerk I'd been," Ali told me.
I reached for a hot dog on the fire.
"You're almost like a soap opera. When did you grow up? In the fifties or something?" I told her.
"Yeah, I know I got no brains," she said self-deprecatingly.
"So get some! Go to college and shit," I told her. "You're not exactly on your deathbed, you know. You can't be more than 25, I'd guess."
"22. Mark says it's a waste. He's got a job and so do I, and we do all right. And I ask him what about the future, and he says the same thing. He's got a job and so do I, and we'll do all right. I tell him I don't want to do 'all right', I want something better, something different, something...," she ran out of words.
"Get out now, then, while you still can," I advised her.
"Easier said than done," she said, meaning her recently rushed marriage.
"Easier done than said," I told her. "Or you'll pay forever." She looked at me dejectedly.
"Eat another hot dog," I told her. She laughed.
"How come you're so smart for somebody who's only... seventeen," she guessed.
"Eighteen," I corrected. "My dad's a Ph.D... So's my mom. Born with it, I guess," I stated plainly.
"You're lucky. You're going to college, right?" Ali asked, knowing the answer.
"Let's go for a swim," I said.
"No suit," Ali remarked dryly.
"Don't need one. Nobody here but us chickens," I said.
She looked at me. I looked back, daring her. She stood up and took off her top. I finished my hot dog in one bite and stood up, too. She was removing her shorts. I watched as I took off my clothes. It was hot enough after the hike, and the water in the little grotto was inviting. She slipped in, and I came in a minute later. The pool wasn't very big, just the catch from a small brook flowing downhill. It dropped over some rocks and made a little waterfall.
"The miners dynamited this out," I told Ali.
"How do you know?" she asked.
"Local history, that's all."
"Oh."
"They used it for washing and mining. Got the water from the fall to drink before it hit the pool," I related.
"Not very big," Ali said.
"But deeper than it looks, huh?" I mentioned.
I could see Ali testing for the bottom with her feet. The water was that clear.
"God, I can see the bottom but I can't touch it. How deep is it?" she wanted to know.
"About fifteen feet, actually," I told her. I swam over to her side of the pool.
"It's cooler down further," she said.
"Mmm hmm," I agreed knowingly.
We didn't speak for a minute.
"Do you do a lot of photography?" I asked.
"It's my favorite thing to do. It's my only hobby, really. Sometimes I spend all day Saturday out with my camera while Jack's working. I look forward to it."
"Why not open up your own shop then?" I suggested.
"No money. No idea how to run it. What else...," she trailed off.
"You're really down on yourself, aren't you?" I said.
She looked at me. Her eyes were really tired and hopeless. I moved next to her and put my arm around her shoulder.
"You really do need to get a little more self-confidence, you know. You've probably got the talent. I think you just need the drive and a little push. Maybe even someone to go in with," I told her.
She reached up and pulled my hand down over her shoulder.
"Thanks. Maybe I can convince Jack...," she started.
"Don't convince him, just DO it!" I snapped.
She let my hand go. "You don't know Jack. He's not that easy to waylay," Ali said.
There was a minute's silence.
"The water feels cold," Ali said, pulling herself up on the rocks. I swam away a little ways and then came back again. I put my arms up on her leg and folded them neatly. She was kicking her feet out in the water.
"Would you show me some of your pictures? Do you have any back at your cabin?" I asked.
Ali was surprised. "Not many. Just the last batch that I took. Nothing good, really. I mean not my best by any stretch," she gibbered.
Anyone could tell she was more than pleased I asked.
"Not to see them, no. He just looks at them and says 'They're real nice, Lissy'," she said distantly.
"Lissy," I said, turning the nickname over with my tongue, "That's nice. I like it," I said. Ali looked at me. I patted her leg with my hand approvingly and then noticed something I hadn't before.
"Do you always do that?" I said, turning my hand slightly and pointing between her legs.
Alissa blushed. "No. Jack did it the other day. He convinced me. I didn't want to at first, but it kind of turned me on when he started doing it. Doesn't feel all that bad," she said.
I'd never seen a woman without any hair down there. I saw all kinds of girls in the showers in phys-ed. But not this. I moved my hand over to just above her mound. I let my fingers run over the skin.
It was smooth. No stubble.
"Do you shave it every day now, or what?" I said, not looking up.
"Most of it. Gently. It's just like shaving your legs," she laughed, "Only much more careful."
I moved my fingers a little lower. "Can I see?" I asked curiously.
"Wendy! There's nothing to see," she blushed.
I slipped back into the water and walked around in front of her. I put my hands on her legs.
"Come on. I've never seen one like this before," I said. "Please?" I looked at her pleadingly.
She blushed again, but slowly let my hands push her legs apart. I moved my head closer to her private area. I touched the lips of her vagina and moved them a little. I looked at her from all angles, touching her and moving her around.
"I think it looks better this way," I commented, not stopping.
"Do you?" Ali said softly.
"It's easier to reach," I said, looking at her and touching her clitoris, rubbing it in a small circle. I could see she was willing.
"Is it?" she said breathlessly, looking at me distantly.
I lowered my head and took her into my mouth. She groaned. I nibbled. She sighed. I ate her clit warmingly, and she moved underneath my loving. She tasted good, and I sucked her lightly, taking her in and out of my mouth gently. Then I kissed her. All around her clit and pussy. Her juices started to flow, and I took her clitoris back into my mouth. She held on to the rock she was sitting on. I could feel her erupting, but I wanted to suck her more. She rolled through her first orgasm to her second. The next one came quickly. After that, she remained excited as my fingers entered her, and I let her clit rest. I moved my hands inside her and built her slowly back up to desire again. Then I took them away and moved from her. I climbed out and lay on the cool rock beside her.
"Now you do me," I told her.
"I've never done this before," Ali said.
"You'll do fine," I said.
She went into the water. I felt her touching my legs and parting my hairs with her fingers. She took me in, and I closed my eyes against the warm sunshine. She did a fine job. We got dressed and went back.
"So did you guys have a good time while we were gone?" I asked Gwen after Ali and Jack had left.
She didn't answer.
"What happened?" I asked.
She told me.
I told her what had happened.
We ate supper. We looked at the stars. We went to bed. Late in the night, she woke me. She cuddled next to me, and we fell asleep again that way. When morning came, I lay looking at the early morning sunshine on the cabin walls. Gwen awoke, and her hands caressed my breasts. We made love, slowly kissing and waking. She spent a long time under the covers, kissing me. I liked to kiss her. Then she spent an equally long time kissing all of my body. My back and arms, my bottom especially, the backs of my legs, and finally my pussy. She sucked me worthily and long. When it was my turn, I pulled all the covers away and looked at her body. I tried to imagine her without any hair down there. The idea excited me, but I didn't say anything to her about it. I touched her and made love to her slowly, as she had to me. I was quiet and enjoyable. Slowly we left bed to get breakfast.
We dressed without speaking much except about what to make to eat. We both went swimming afterwards. Then we went into town for supplies. We shopped and looked around a little. By the time we had lunch and came back, it was two. Jack was there when we got back.
He was alone.
"Where's the old ball and chain?" I asked sarcastically.
He took it in good humor. "Buying film. What are you guys up to?" he asked plainly.
"Not much, I'm afraid," I said, trying to gauge whether Gwen expected me to go on another long hike and leave them alone together. She signaled me no. "How about you?" I asked.
"Nothin'," he replied, and cast about as if looking for something to do.
Gwen motioned me into the kitchen area to help put away the groceries. I followed her, and she whispered to me.
"Do you think we should do it with him?" she asked.
"Don't you mean do I want to do it with him?" I replied.
Gwen looked at me. "So why not do it and get it over with. Then you'll have some experience," she said.
I thought about it.
"It's worth it," she added.
"Really?" I asked her.
She thought about it. "Well, maybe not with him, but he's not bad for a start," she giggled.
I hit her.
"I'll get out of here," she said.I was going to stop her, but she acted too fast.
"I have to go back to town. We forgot some things," she said to Jack. "Do you guys need anything?"
"I don't know, Ali's does all that stuff," he said, bored.
Gwen turned to me. "And I want to go to that place down the road that old man told us about, OK? You don't mind if I'm not back for a while, do you?" she asked.
"No. I suppose not," I said. "But don't be out all night," I told her, meaning it.
"I won't. I just wanted to see that antique shop," she said. "See you later," she waved as she went out the door.
That must have set off an automatic play signal in Jack's mind. He got up immediately and walked over to where I was.
"So what's your idea?" he said.
"Idea for what?" I asked.
"Do you want it, too?" he said brazenly.
I thought to myself what a jerk he was. But I didn't say it. I just rolled with the punches.
"Yeah. You ready?" I said.
He looked at me as if he wasn't quite expecting me to say what I had, and shrugged his shoulders.
I walked away from him towards the bed. He grabbed me two steps out and pulled me to him. His hands were like vises on my upper arms. He bent his head down to kiss my neck. I endured it. As he kissed towards my mouth I rebelled slightly. I didn't want to kiss him. He did. I shut my eyes tight. He practically lifted me off the ground. I weakened a little. His hands went to my back and they felt huge.
They were huge. And rough. They scraped my back under my shirt. He undid the snap of my bra and I felt it loosen in front. His hands went to my ribs and then down and under my shorts. They caressed my naked cheeks and I began to feel his strength robbing me of power to want to stop him. Suddenly he dropped to his knees and took my shorts down with him. I was embarrassed. He began to kiss towards my pubic area and I began to lose my balance. He pulled my shorts down and pushed me backwards towards the bed. I fell onto it and he removed my shorts and panties in one motion.
His tongue found me in no time as he pushed my legs apart. It was different. Too hurried. Less skilled or less knowledgeable. But it did what it was supposed to do. I became wet. Then he rose and removed his shirt. I looked at his chest and he told me with his eyes to remove my blouse and bra. I did as he removed his pants. I turned back to see him there before me and marveled at his cock. It was large.
Not as large as Gwen had painted it, but enough. He moved towards me threateningly, but passed my lower regions with his organ and climbed up onto the bed, straddling me. He wanted me to eat him. I licked at him tentatively and tried to get used to it, the awkward angle of being beneath him and all. He raised himself up and that made it easier for me to get it into my mouth. As soon as it was wet enough, he began to pump it in and out of my mouth. I wasn't prepared for it, but could do nothing much about it. I was inexperienced and unsure enough not to stop what I didn't like. So I put my hands on his ass and tried to manage the pumping. All it did was make it worse.
I was about to gag when he stopped suddenly and lowered himself down. He put his hands under my ass and lifted me up to give himself more room to guide his cock into my pussy. I felt him entering me and felt my own resistance to it. He pushed slowly, going in just a little. It hurt slightly.
"Stop," I told him, pulling his body forward to get him to pull it out.
He removed his cock and then went in further. It stung. Again. It hurt. Then it burned, but I knew it was broken. The seal was broken. I started to cry for it. He knew I was hurt but went on anyway. It burned each time he went in until I was finally opened enough. Then it was just very tight and very hot.
Not much pleasurable. He rocked me back and forth on him till the pain went away and it loosened and cooled a little. Then it just felt wet and a mess. But it felt better to me. He continued and I held him and he pumped me and I let it happen. It was not long before I began to push the limit and was lost in frenzy. He banged me hard and I pushed him more, till at last I was sweating and clutching at him and he buried his cock in me so hard I shook. I couldn't think about him coming in me. That was the farthest thing from my mind. He didn't. He took his cock out of me and came on my belly. I watched it spurting in fascination. I rubbed it into my belly and he fell to the side and collapsed. I laughed at his cock waving in the air like a flagpole without a flag.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
I laughed harder.
"What?" he said.
I burst out in hysterics and throbbing pain in my lower parts. I clutched at them.
Jack shook his head and got up. He left. I was still laughing and crying in mild hysterics and pain.
"I can't believe you," Gwen laughed.
"You had to be there," I said, laughing all over again. "It was just cute, but when he said 'What's so funny?' in the hurt tone of voice he did, it was all over for me. I couldn't help cracking up."
"So what did he do?" Gwen wanted to know.
"He just got up and left. Not a word. He was pissed," I said, laughing more.
"Well, I guess he won't be back here," Gwen said.
"Who cares?" I said.
"I know," Gwen said. "But now I definitely want to find somebody and do it."
"I know what you mean. With the right guy it would definitely be nice. But he'd have to do it slow and easy and know what the heck he was doing. Jack didn't know much of anything about female anatomy," I laughed.
"That's for sure," Gwen added. There was a lapse in conversation.
"Is there somebody else around here?" Gwen asked.
"You mean for this kind of thing. Not really. At least not real close. I suppose if you went into town...," I told her.
"Yeah. I suppose," she agreed.
I left my scope and sat on the swing by her. I put my arm around her. She turned to me and smiled.
"Well at least we have each other," she said, looking at me.
"Mmm hmm," I said.
We kissed. | 3 |
6,697 | My Life - In a Nutshell | "So how do your parents like Vegas?"
"Okay, I guess. They're still getting used to the heat."
"Now, they moved out there your sophomore year, right?"
"Yeah."
"You visit them often?"
"Oh yeah. Play way too much blackjack."
"Right on."
"We should meet there sometime. We'll have a place to stay."
"Yeah. I'll see if I can get some time off. When's a good time to come?"
"Probably like in September or October. It cools off a bit by then, and all the tourists are gone."
"Cool."
The waitress walked up and placed a plate in front of each of us.
"Ketchup?" she asked.
"No thanks," I responded.
"I'll take some," said Devon.
I bit into the massive burger, sauce dribbling down my chin. I wiped it out of the hairs of my goatee.
"You're styling with that goatee," said Devon, pointing with a pickle.
"Serena doesn't like the facial hair," I said. "Now's my only chance."
Devon chuckled. "You're whipped, dude."
"Yeah... I need to call her..."
Devon glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, check it out. There's a phone booth out there. Do all these greasy diners have phone booths in the parking lot like that?" He once again pointed with his now half-eaten pickle.
I snickered. The waitress looked in our direction.
"I think she just gave you the stink-eye, Dev. You shouldn't use such derogatory language when referring to greasy diners."
"Shit..."
I took another bite.
"Looks like a good storm building up," said Devon, pointing with the pickle once again. It dripped on the floor.
"Dude. Quit using the pickle as a pointer."
"What? You got a problem with my pickle?" Devon said, a little too loud.
The waitress looked towards us again.
"Oh, you really got it this time," I said, chuckling.
"Excuse me?" Devon leaned slightly over the counter. "Could I get another pickle, please?"
The waitress came over with a jar, opened it, and pulled one out.
"Thank you," said Devon with a fake smile.
Taking the pickle, Devon began to gesture out the window of the diner and babble about cold fronts. I looked down and grabbed a french fry.
"Oh shit!" Devon suddenly jumped from his stool.
"What?!"
"A radar truck and a convoy of minivans are going by!" He said, peering out the front window.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw the last of a number of matching black Plymouth minivans pass in front of the diner.
"Let's go," I said, tossing a twenty on the counter.
Devon was already halfway out the door as I picked up a couple of more fries and got up from my stool.
"Keep the change," I yelled to the waitress behind the counter as I raced out the door.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Somewhere in northern Oklahoma. We're joining up with a group of researchers from K-State and the National Weather Service."
"K-State?"
"Kansas State University."
"Oh. So, they're letting you follow them around?"
"Yeah, we saw them pass by a place we were eating at, and we caught up with them. They've got all kinds of radar and stuff. Right now, we're headed north towards a pretty good looking storm."
"Well, be careful, Cal."
"Okay, I'll call you tonight."
"Alright. Love you."
"Love you too."
I hung up the phone, then walked back into the bedroom. Flopping on the bed, I leaned over and grabbed the book I had been reading.
I opened the door to the phone booth and jogged across the truck stop parking lot. A cold wind was blowing in from the north, where a massive storm was forming.
"The temperature's dropped about 15 degrees," said one of the K-State guys, consulting a laptop computer.
"What's the windspeed?" asked Devon.
"About 40 miles per hour."
"We ready?" I asked.
"Yep. Let's roll," said Devon.
We walked over to the Bronco. Devon climbed over the tailgate.
"I'm gonna set up the tripod now," he said.
"Good idea. I'll plug in the computer."
After setting up the tripod and retrieving the camcorder from the large metal truck-bed box, Devon wriggled his way back into the cab.
"I'm glad you convinced me about this Bronco idea," he said, getting in the passenger seat. "I never realized just how convenient this would be."
"I just wasn't expecting to spend that much for the damn thing," I said, motioning to the fiberglass door assembly that separated the cab of the Bronco from where the back seat used to reside. "Hundred bucks for that, then another hundred for the box."
"Well, you can't exactly leave all of our stuff back there to get hailed on..."
Another flash of lightning illuminated the room. A crash of thunder followed several seconds later. The light patter of the rain on the window had turned into a full-fledged roar. I peeked through the slats of the window blind. The tree in front of the building was lit up by another lightning bolt. I settled back into the bed and wished Cal was here to keep me warm.
The phone rang. I picked it up after the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey kiddo."
"Hi," I said, with a note of relief in my voice. "You're missing out on quite a storm here, bucko. I need someone to protect me."
"You don't even know."
"About what?"
"About storms," Cal continued. I noticed he was slightly out of breath.
"What does that mean? Did you guys see a tornado today?" I asked, getting excited.
"Holy shit. I've got to sit down."
"Okay..."
"I saw the most amazing thing today. I mean, I've heard about it and seen it on TV and stuff, but I never thought I'd see it in person."
"What?" I said, impatiently.
"Hold on. Damn. We just got here. I'm at a truck stop south of Topeka. We just got out of the storm like 15 minutes ago. The Bronco's all trashed. We got some serious hail damage. I'm glad I didn't buy anything expensive."
"Does it still run?"
"Oh yeah, it's only dents and stuff, but anyway. They were the size of baseballs."
"You're kidding."
"No. We got some great pictures with the video camera. I hope my film will come out, though. It was kind of dark when it hit."
"When did this happen?"
"About 6:00. We met up with the K-State people at about 1:30, and followed them north into this massive storm. We didn't see much, and it looked like we weren't going to see anything, so we stopped somewhere to get something to eat around 5:30. Anyway, there's about twelve of us, and we're all in this Denny's by the freeway when one of the guys literally jumps up out of his seat and points."
"Yeah..."
"Well, we all look, and there's a whole shitload of cars parked under the freeway overpass. It was starting to hail. So Dev and I headed out to the Bronco to grab the videocamera and stuff, and all the K-State guys were freaking out about the radar unit. They jumped into the radar truck and moved it under a gas station canopy, and we all gathered under it. I'm taking pictures and Dev's using the videocamera when someone asks, 'what's that sound?' We all got quiet, then the wind shifted and we could hear it clearly."
"What was it?"
"A tornado siren. This woman starts screaming at us from the Denny's to come inside. The K-State guys want to start up the radar, but no one knows where the damn thing is, so we all took off across the parking lot. About this time, the hail really started to come down. I've got bruises all up and down my back from the stuff. By the time we got to the front door at Denny's, they're about the size of golf balls, and they're starting to shred the gas station canopy."
"Oh my god."
"We're hanging out under the front porch of the Denny's and this woman keeps screaming at us to come into their shelter, but we were all looking for the tornado."
"Jesus, Cal, you're gonna get killed."All the lights went out, and it was pitch black. The siren went off, but we weren't sure if it was because the power was out, or what, so we decided to go inside. They crammed everybody into a meat locker, and we hung out in the dark in there for about 15 minutes before we decided to go check things out. Anyway, we went back outside, and there was blue sky off to the west, and the sun had started to come out, but the thing was, the ground was covered by hail – it looked like it had snowed – and there were some the size of baseballs."
"Wow. Did the radar truck survive?"
"Yeah. The canopy kept most of it away, but the trim on it got all torn off. All the cars in the lot were smashed up. Some people's windows were smashed, but ours survived."
"That's good."
"I think it's because the windshield is almost straight up and down. That thing has the aerodynamics of a barn. So anyway, we took a bunch of pictures, and then took off after the storm."
"Why? Do you have a death wish or something?"
"No. I just want to see a tornado."
"Crazy..."
"Anyway, we were driving east, and we could see some trees down in the distance. It was way across this field. Finally, we found a road that took us toward the trees, and we came up to this part of the road that was completely stripped of pavement."
"So? Road construction?"
"No. That's where the tornado went through."
"Really?"
"Yeah. There was a path through the field, and it took a bunch of trees, passed over the road, and went down a hill through some more fields."
"It didn't get any houses or anything?"
"We didn't see any. We drove around and took some pictures, I think we got most of the path, and we didn't see any other damage."
"Wow."
"Yeah, so that's what I did today. Anything exciting happen back home?"
"Dude! That one's gone!"
"Man, it's coming right at us!" I stood up and glanced around. Most of the bleacher bums were headed our way. I climbed up onto my seat and jumped. "Shit..." I fell over backwards as the ball came within mere inches of my outstretched fingers. Two rows back, a burly man wearing a Chiefs t-shirt caught me.
"Almost," he said.
I looked to my left to see the proud owner of a Ken Griffey-delivered home run ball. He was about six.
"Nice catch," I said, rubbing his head, "to both of you," I turned to the man in the Chiefs shirt.
"Not a problem."
"Damn," I said, returning to my seat. "Almost had it."
Taking a sip of his beer, Devon nodded his head. The crowd settled back in, the home team now down by six.
"I think we're a jinx," he said.
I flopped down on the couch. "Damn. I need some sleep."
"I feel ya, man. I could sleep for a week," said Devon. He reached for the remote and turned on the TV. "So, how do you like the place?" he asked, waving the remote like a pointer.
"Nice. I especially like the entertainment center," I said, referring to the massive wall unit that contained a 32-inch television and a myriad of stereo equipment. The phone rang.
Devon answered. "Hello?"
"Just got back this morning. We went and watched a Royals game. Not tonight. We're beat. Tomorrow? Let me ask."
"You want to go to a party tomorrow?" he asked.
"Who is it?"
"Jennifer."
"Jennifer Grant?"
Devon nodded.
"Sure," I said enthusiastically. Jennifer Grant was the hottest girl that had ever shown any interest in me. Unfortunately, I left for college before anything could happen.
"Okay, we'll be there," Devon said into the phone. "Later."
"Jennifer Grant. Excellent," I said, doing my best Montgomery Burns.
Devon grinned. "Anything happen between you two?"
"No. I wish."
"I think I would have skipped college for her. Go to Longview or something."
"Yeah, well you think with the wrong part of your anatomy."
"So? She's hot."
"Yeah..." I sighed.
"Cal!" Jennifer screamed, running at me. "It's been so long!" She crashed into me, giving me a bear hug. "How the hell are you?"
"Good. You?"
"I'm great. Why don't you ever call or anything? A postcard, even? It's been like three years."
"Sorry. I've been busy," I said, almost as a question.
"Bullshit – busy. I went to college, too. You had time."
"You're right. I don't know... no good excuses come to mind."
"Whatever happened with us?"
"There was an 'us'?"
"No, but there should have been. You're so damn dense. Anyway. Look at you! You've put on some pounds," she said, pinching my side. "Quality pounds, too. You used to be so skinny. Have you gotten taller, too?"
"No. Don't think so at least. Still 5 foot 12 and a half," I said with a smile. "I did gain about 30 pounds since I last saw you, though."
"Damn. You eat all day, or what?"
"No, I'm on a liquid diet," I said, raising my beer bottle.
"Ahh... So what are you up to now? 225?"
"Please. About 190. How about you?" I asked, poking her stomach.
She lifted her t-shirt to reveal a flat, tanned stomach. "115. Haven't gained a pound since you left."
"What, have you been keeping track until you saw me again?"
"I have to stay looking good for you, hot stuff."
Devon came up, a short brunette in tow.
"You remember Mia, don't you?"
I snapped my fingers, trying to remember. Finally, I had to admit I couldn't place her. "You do look familiar, though," extending my hand to her. "Did you work at Hy-Vee?" I asked, referring to the local grocery store.
"Yeah, in the video department," she said, shaking my hand.
"That's it," I said as an image popped into my head. "Patriot Games."
"Yeah," Mia said, a knowing smile spreading across her face.
"Are we missing something here?" Devon asked. Jennifer raised her eyebrows.
"I went in one night to rent a movie. I ended up getting Patriot Games. When I got home and popped the tape in, I realized that there had been some kind of mistake."
"Yeah..." prodded Jennifer.
"He calls me up," said Mia, continuing for me. "I just rented Patriot Games from you guys, he says. Then there's this silence for a few seconds."
"I had left the tape playing while I called the store, and when I turned around, the 'action' had started," I continued.
"I hear this kind of gasp or something, then he says, 'oh my god.' He was kind of freaking me out by then, so I asked him what was up."
"She was talking to me for a minute, but I didn't even notice. I was too busy watching the tape."
"Finally, after like 30 seconds of silence, he says, 'you've rented me a porno.'"
Devon snickered. Jennifer was getting impatient. "Well?"
"I said, 'you got Patriot Games, right?' He said, yeah. I told him I was planning on taking a copy home after I got off work, so I could bring it over or something."
"Bold move on your part. You didn't even know him," said Devon.
"I did, kind of. He used to rent quite often. I noticed we had the same taste in movies, and he's a cute guy. Besides, I'd seen him at school and stuff, so he wasn't like a complete stranger. Anyway, he's like, no don't bother, that's too much trouble."
"She says, 'no I've got nothing else to do.' I was too out of it to notice she was trying to hit on me or something," I said, laughing.
"I told him I would be over in twenty minutes. He didn't argue, so I looked up his address on the computer and left early."
"She shows up on my doorstep five minutes later."
"It wasn't *that* fast."
"Oh, *it was*. Anyway, she's standing there, still wearing her blue Hy-Vee apron and everything, and she says, 'I forgot Patriot Games.'"
"I was in a hurry."
"I was disappointed."
"Come in," I said. Thank god my parents aren't home, I thought. I don't need the third degree about this strange girl I was inviting in. I chuckled to myself. I'm not sure if I could answer them.
She came in, and we stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment in the entryway.
"We haven't been formally introduced," I said, breaking the quiet. "I'm Cal."
"Mia."
"Yeah. You have the nametag..."
"You're on the computer," she said.
*Idiot*, I thought to myself.
"Would you like to watch a movie?" I asked.
She stood motionless for a moment with a strange look on her face. She didn't respond.
"Oh. Not the one you rented me," I said with a nervous smile.
"Oh. Okay," said Mia, quietly.
"We've got a bunch of older stuff," I said, leading her into the living room.
"I think I'd better go."
"Why," I said a little too eagerly. "No one's home, we could stay up all night."
She smiled.
*Damnit. Now she's going to think I want to rape her or something. Idiot!* I berated myself for my lack of experience with women.
"Okay. It's Saturday night. What else do I have to do? You want me to go get something to eat? I could go get a movie – a new release – I get them free."
"See if there's anything you like in here, and let me know. I've got plenty to eat here," I said as I walked into the kitchen. "Dr. Pepper?" I asked, holding up a two-liter.
"Sure. Oh my god, you have a great collection. Are these yours?"
"Some of them. They're mostly my parents' though."
"What's 'Ocean's Eleven'?"
"Don't know. It's one of my parents'. Never seen it. I think it has Frank Sinatra in it, though."
"Let's watch that, it sounds interesting," said Mia, reading the box, "if it sucks, we can always watch something else."
"Okay," I said, returning with a bag of chips and two glasses of Dr. Pepper. "You like ranch dip?"
"Sure."
I popped the movie into the VCR, then went to the kitchen, where I got the dip out of the fridge. "Are you at all hungry? I could make something."
"No, that's okay, I had pizza on my break. That was only a couple of hours ago," she said, consulting her watch.
We flopped down on opposite ends of the couch and fell into silence as the movie started.
I leaned forward to dip a chip, bumping into Mia in the process. "Go ahead," I said, "ladies first."Why thank you. What a gentleman," she said with a grin.
We leaned back into the couch, a little closer this time. We repeated this until eventually, her head was on my shoulder. The closing credits began to roll. She sighed.
"I hope my parents went to bed without waiting up," she said.
"Geez. Do you want to call them or something?"
"No, that's okay. They probably won't miss me. I'm sure they went to bed. They always do when I work the late shift."
"It's 12:30. Would you like to watch something else, or do you have to go?"
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Mia asked, elbowing me in the ribs.
"No. Just asking," I said, rubbing my side.
"Let's watch something else," she said, getting up, "I'll pick."
I sat patiently on the couch while she crouched in front of the movie rack.
"Can I look through your wallet?" I asked, noticing a fat leather wallet on the coffee table.
"Yeah, just as long as you don't look at my driver's license picture."
That was an automatic invitation. "You shouldn't have said anything," I said, pulling her license out of its plastic sleeve.
"Cal," she said, sounding like my mother.
I held up the license to the light coming off the TV. Jennifer Mia Collins.
"You go by your middle name?"
"Yeah. There are so many Jennifers."
I nodded my head. Height: 5' 4".
"Don't look at my weight. That was three months ago. I've lost some."
Date of Birth: 1/24/77
"You're only 16?" I asked.
"Yeah. Should I take that as a compliment?"
"Um, yeah."
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"Old fogey."
"Hey. I'm graduating this year, at least."
"Lucky you. Going to college?"
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"Somewhere west."
"What, don't you like Missouri?" she asked sarcastically.
"Uh..."
She put the movie in. I put her license back in her wallet and reached for the remote.
"What are we watching?"
"Patriot Games," she said with a smirk as she leaned into me on the couch.
The movie stopped where I had stopped it. Three rather muscular, well-hung men were frantically trying to stuff as many of one woman's holes as possible. Mia gasped.
"Wow. I had no idea."
"Yeah," I breathed.
"This is my first porno," she said.
"Mine, too."
We watched in stunned silence for the next ten minutes as a variety of men gang-banged the lone woman. At that point, the picture disappeared into a field of snow. I fast forwarded through several minutes until the picture returned.
"Whew," said Mia.
Just as she spoke, the picture became fuzzy once again, although this time, the picture was still slightly visible.
"Damn. Now we know why they returned this instead of Patriot Games," I said, "they've got a new movie for free, and got rid of an old crappy one."
"Patriot Games doesn't have hardcore sex in it, though."
"True," I said with a chuckle.
I yawned, stretching my hands over my head. Mia pulled one arm down over her shoulders. She snuggled in closer to my body.
"You're so nice and warm."
I hugged her.
The tape stopped and began rewinding. The whirr of the VCR was enough to wake me.
"Mia," I said, shaking her slightly.
"Wha... what time is it?"
"2:20."
"Shit. I've got to go."
"Stay."
"What?"
"Stay here with me. My parents won't be home till tomorrow afternoon."
"Where are they?"
"It's their anniversary, they got a room and buffet package at one of the hotels downtown."
"Oh. Okay. My parents go to church tomorrow at 9:00, so make sure you wake me in time to get home while they're gone."
"Okay," I said. "Mia? Wake up. Let's go up to my room. Just in case my parents get home early or something."
"Alright," she said, her willpower sapped by sleep deprivation.
We climbed the stairs to my room and walked in.
"Cool room."
"Thanks."
"Did this used to be an attic or something?" Mia asked, looking at the low, sloping ceilings.
"No, it's just the space above the garage. My dad and I finished it."
"Cool. Do you have anything I can wear? I don't want to wrinkle my clothes."
"Sure." I lead her to my dresser and opened a couple of drawers. "Take your pick. There's sweats and shorts in there and t-shirts in this one. The bathroom's down the hall and to the left."
I walked to the window and closed the blind. Mia grabbed something out of the drawer and padded quietly down the hall. Quickly, I stripped off my jeans and shirt and grabbed an old pair of sweats and a Blades t-shirt. The toilet flushed and Mia walked back into the room. She was wearing only a white t-shirt. Only the fact that it was one of my shirts helped it cover the important parts. She climbed into the far side of my bed without saying a word. I walked over to the wall and flipped off the light switch.
"Hurry up," she mumbled from the darkness, "I need you to keep me warm."
I climbed in and wrapped my arm around her stomach. She squeezed my hand.
"Thanks for having me over." | 4 |
6,708 | Bound for Glory | "Then deliver. Wait a second while I sit her up."
John cupped the mouthpiece and quietly said, "Don't act like you did before. Make her fight to get you to accept this. Think about it, Catherine. If you were really the girl she thinks you are, how would you really act? Here goes." "Annabelle, here she is."
"Mother, what's going on?"
"Catherine, John just gave me dreadful news about his full intentions. You will not be released anytime soon, maybe not for years, possibly decades if ever. He plans to return you to me when you can't earn money with your body, but without that critical release."
"I don't understand, Mother. What are you saying?"
"I am saying that after you deliver the baby, I will have to return you to him. I have no choice, Catherine. I swore an oath to God that I would humor this man until he released you."
"Mother, no, you can't do that! You don't know what this is like--the beating, the rapes, letting men use my body."
"I do know, Catherine, but what other choice is there?"
"I won't do it. I'll run away."
"Catherine, bite your tongue. Don't you ever say that in front of him again. Do you want to stay tied up and gagged for years, bound to a bed? He can do that, and I would be forced to help bind you. It would tear my heart out to have to drag you back and tie you, naked to a rapist's bed, but that's what the threat of running away might force upon me. That would be as good as driving a dagger in my heart. Is that what you want? Do you want to punish me for letting you go with him?"
"No, Mother, of course not. I just can't believe you would do that to me."
"You can't believe I, your mother, would place your immortal soul over your mortal body? You can't believe that I, your mother, would do anything to jeopardize her own immortal soul?"
"Oh, Mother, I'm so frightened. I want to come home."
"You will, many times."
"Yes, but I will be sent back to him as a sex slave to bear more bastards for him."
"Yes, Catherine, accept it. I told you before, you are a sex slave. It doesn't matter what you want, at least, not to your master. As long as you have a master, I have one, too. Do you think I am enjoying this? Is that what you think, that I like saying filthy words, that I like hearing about the sex he is having with my only child, my baby girl? Am I some kind of monster in your eyes, just because I will do anything at all to save your soul?"
"No, Mother, I know you're motives are righteous and pure. I know you are only doing what you think is best. I know that all you ever cared about was my fucking soul."
"Catherine, how dare you talk to me like that?"
"Like what, Mother, like a whore--a sex slave. That's how they talk, I'm sure. That's what I am. You said so yourself."
"And I meant every word. And I will not apologize for thinking only of your immortal soul. I take that as the highest compliment a daughter can give to her mother. It is all I care about, and that is as it should be. Your body is temporal; your soul is immortal. Remember what I taught you."
"I'm sorry, Mother. You are right. I'm just finding this so hard to accept. Things are so different now. Everything is upside-down. Nothing makes any sense."
"I know, Catherine, but it all makes perfect sense to me. As your spiritual guide, you must trust me, do as I say, and never, ever question anything I tell you. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Mother."
"As for your language, it is befitting a whore and sex slave, so I won't ever correct that again. That was a knee-jerk reaction. I will adjust. In fact, you should use only those vile and filthy terms, even when talking to me. A whore is as a whore does and says. Become a whore in body, mind, and spirit, and things will go easier. Time will pass faster. I will treat you like a whore for that reason--to help you adjust. You understand, don't you?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Now, whore, I want you to suck the reverend's cock while we talk. Do that thing with your throat where you lick his balls while you're sucking. Do it like the filthy whore you've become."
Catherine slipped into her childish, submissive tone and said, "All right, Mommy. I'll deep suck the preacher's cock and suck the sperm from his balls while I lick them. Was that whorish enough?"
"That was good."
"Oh, and you won't have to do the tying after I deliver the bastard and you return me. I will return willingly to serve out my time, every time. I don't want to make things any harder on you than they already are. I feel guilty enough about that as it is. If anything, I want to make amends for the trouble I've caused you."
"Good, much better. You can do that by being the best whore and sex slave any pervert ever had. That will take pressure off me to make you that way. Now, get that cock in your mouth and start sucking. Put the reverend back on."
John didn't need to pretend, because Catherine was so turned on, she dove on his cock. "Oh, God damn, Annabelle. The bitch has my whole cock in her mouth, down her throat, and she's curling my toes from the fucking suction. Oh, yes, baby! Suck that cock!"
"You make me wish I had a cock, and a cock sucker. Right now, I am happy I have a big clit and ten fingers. Oh, John, this is so much fun. Were you listening?"
"Hell yes. You were outstanding. You talk religious shit the way Catherine sucks a child molester's cock."
"My, that is a compliment. I told you I can deal with Catherine. Is she licking your big hairy balls?"
"Like a mother cat licks pussy."
"Wonderful. I've got you set, then. I need to hang up so that I can properly take care of my needs. I can't fuck myself and talk at the same time."
"Until the sabbath, then."
"Until the sabbath. It will be fun. Good bye, lover."
John hung up the mouthpiece, set the phone aside, then came a copious load down Catherine's throat. She gulped, then sucked, then nursed lovingly on his cock. He lifted Catherine off his deflating member and set her on her feet. "Surprised?"
"Totally. What a hypocritical slut she is. She gave me to you to torture and kill. Now, she's made me your sex slave for life for Christ's sake--literally for Christ's sake. She's sick, but I think she actually believes all of this shit."
"She's not sick, but her mind has been poisoned by that born-again Christian dogma. I think she has to cling to her belief that she is saving you while throwing you to the dogs. She wants to have her fun and be saved at the same time. Who can blame her? With my help, she discovered a way."
"Do you think she'll even feel any guilt for what she's doing, or thinks she's doing?"
"Who cares. You're having fun with this. I'm getting a kick out of it. Your old lady is getting a kick, having fun, and having a religious experience all in one. She won't be the first to pull the plug. How did you like her confession? Did I read her right or didn't I?"
"You cheated. You suckered me into a stacked wager."
"I know. We'll scrap the wager, but I'd like to set up another. Don't worry, there won't be any sale to white slavers. I had no intention of following through. You're my wife, remember, and you're going to be the mother of my child."
"Oh John. I love you. I wish it were true, that I was your wife."
"Maybe one day, but don't get your hopes up. I'm not the marrying type, and someday, I'll tire of you. I won't tire soon, but we're not playing the Honeycuts anymore. Nobody bought it, and that fact embarrassed the hell out of me. That's why I kept a low profile. I did that for you, Catherine. I hope you enjoyed it."
"Oh, I did. Playing your wife was a dream come true. You're right, though, nobody bought it."
"Don't feel bad, kid. It's just your age. They'd buy it in three or four years.If I were to marry anyone, though, it would be Annabelle, your mother. Those sexy pious bitches drive me bananas. Your mother is the sexiest I've ever come across.
"So you really do have a thing for her. I think that's great. I think she's sexy, too. She's also very pretty, even without makeup. Can you imagine what she'd look like all made up, wearing sexy clothes? Too bad she's stuck with my old man. I'm sure his little dick doesn't do a thing for her. After I saw what a real cock is supposed to look like, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. So, what's the bet?"
"You are going to earn your own money whether you like it or not. The money you earn fucking gets split fifty-fifty. I'm sure you'll lose it all in wagers, but I need to pay you in order to win it. Here's the bet. One-thousand of mine against one-thousand of your future earnings that your mother will divorce your father and meet us for a threesome. Furthermore, she will become a whore with you."
"You're on, buster. If you can make that happen, I'll gladly earn a thousand for you."
"Let's put a time limit on it, say one month from today, she has to be naked in bed with us."
"She can't get a divorce that soon."
"No, but she can get caught fucking the kid and have a divorce pending."
"If she gets caught by father, a divorce will be pending, that's for sure. Let's go double or nothing that she will agree to marry you. I say she won't; you say she will."
"It's done. Do you know the kid she has in mind for a lover?"
"No, I can't imagine; but whoever he is, she sure wants him badly."
John and Catherine left Pittsburg the following morning, headed for New Orleans. Along the way, they perfected their game. Catherine played the role of a runaway. John played the part of a Pittsburg preacher returning Catherine to her folks in a small parish outside New Orleans.
Their game was a simple one with a flexible course. Catherine played the part of the Catherine in her fantasy story. She was brazen, outrageous, shocking, and showed her tits and pussy at every opportunity. Whenever they were alone with an intimate group, Catherine told her story. With John's help, she refined her tale to make it more believable and more exciting. He had her drop the sado-masochistic scenes and concentrate on the incest factor. He had her fucking the men and going down on the women. He also had her bring the dog in sooner, making forced sex with the dog a regular feature.
Catherine's lewd behavior, filthy language, and her bawdy stories never failed to bring about an orgy-like atmosphere in train compartments. Regardless of the mix of people, and the mix changed often as they traveled the whistle stop lines, the people responded. Several of the groups broke out in full-fledged naked orgies, and those that didn't participate, watched Catherine take on all comers, male and female, but always, John. Between the two of them, they left a trail of spent dicks and wet pussies from Pittsburg to New Orleans.
Catherine also turned her first trick on the train. John charged two bits for the first, because he wanted to take her from being a two-bit whore to whore stardom. Five bucks became her usual and customary charge. In 1936, in New Orleans, five dollars for pussy was stardom.
After arriving in New Orleans, Catherine went to work selling pussy. The cheap hotel in New Orleans brought welcome relief. John presented Catherine as his daughter--Catherine Masterson. Those who knew John as Big John Masterson just smiled, but everyone else bought it, and they believed Catherine Masterson was a nasty little girl that put her father through hell to the delight of the staff and guests. The two planned a long stay, so they could not get too carried away with the game. The hotel was a home away from home for John. John told her, "A smart bird never shits in his nest."
Catherine did not get to show her pussy very often. She had no intention of shitting in the hotel, but she got the idea. She showed her pussy in the room to a select clientele. John was not into street-corner hustling or leaving Catherine alone with a client until he had been checked out. If marks were to put on Catherine's body, he'd put them there. No one wanted to piss off Big John Masterson.
Catherine earned one-hundred dollars and twenty-five cents in thirty-eight hours, ending at nine P.M. the following Sunday. They had the small bills spread out in two piles on the bed. John gathered both, but entered Catherine's fifty dollars and twenty-five cents in his ledger. He told her a whore's first trick is customarily all hers.
Catherine was in a terrific mood when John placed the call to her mother, so John slapped her hard in the face, sending her sprawling onto the floor. Catherine sat up, tears flowing. "What did I do?"
"Just setting the mood, Catherine. You've just been through hell--your first week as a whore. That smile on your voice had to go."
Catherine smiled back through a frown. Her face hurt. They sat side by side on the bed. Catherine played with John's cock and her own cunt, eager to hear her mother's lusty voice again. Annabelle answered on the first ring, "Hello, John!"
"At your service. Have you had a change of heart?"
"If I did, I'd control it. Is Catherine with you?"
"Yes, she's right here, sucking my cock."
"Is she naked?"
"She's always naked, Annabelle. When we go out, she wears only an overcoat. I never know when an opportunity to pick up a quick buck might happen, but she's always ready."
"Has she made you any money, yet?"
"A little over two hundred."
"My goodness. What do you charge for her various services?"
"Two bucks for a straight fuck, three for an ass fuck. Blow jobs are two. Two fifty if they want her to swallow cum. The rough stuff is extra."
"Rough stuff?"
"Yeah, you know, slapping her around, pulling her cunt hairs out, beating her, mild torture, that sort of stuff. I allow anything that won't leave a lasting mark or an internal injury. I don't want anyone fucking up my gold mine."
"She earned you two hundred the hard way. You're a cruel master, John, but then I knew you would be. The poor thing must be miserable. I'll bet she wants her Mommy. Does she ever cry out for me?"
"Quite a bit. Between you and Jesus, it's a toss up."
"I am dying to speak with her. Don't worry, I won't console her. I'm sure you'll want to listen in. I'll make this good for you."
Catherine was bouncing up and down, then whispered, "Ask her about the boy. Ask her if she followed your orders?"
"Annabelle, first, did you fuck the kid?"
"Yes, John. Several times each day. Six times today, alone. I am following your orders to the letter. I am also following the spirit of your order, John. I came to the door stark naked when he delivered the milk the following morning. He was so startled. I stood in the open doorway with my arms out and my legs apart and said, 'Would you like to fuck me?' Did I do good, John? Is that how you want me to be, like a horny slut?"
"You did great, Annabelle."
"I am insatiable and so is he. Today was the first church service I've missed in six years. We fucked in my marital bed while the service was going on. He's seventeen and he loves to lick and suck my pussy. I adore having my pussy licked. He fucks my ass. He fucks my pussy, and he loves to fuck me in the mouth. He also jacks off in my mouth while I swallow all of his virile young sperm."
"It sounds like you're having the time of your life."
"Oh, I am, John, and I owe it all to you. I am living a dream, and I am still going to heaven. I sucked my first cock, but I couldn't get it to go down my throat. That's one of the things I need to talk to Catherine about. I need to take cock sucking lessons from my daughter. Isn't that marvelous?"
"Here, talk to her."
"Mommy?"
"Catherine, how are you doing?"
"Mommy, I'm dying. They are killing me. I can't go on. I want to die. They hurt me so badly, Mommy."
"I know, sweetheart. They enjoy hurting you, don't they?"
"Yes, they love making me scream and cry."
"And I'm sure you scream and cry a great deal. You never were very brave about pain. I wish there were some way I could ease your suffering, but there isn't. I can't kiss it and make it go away, especially not if they're hurting you where I think they are. Mommy's can't kiss their little girl's cunnies, now can they? That is where they like to hurt you the most, isn't it?"
"Yes, Mommy. They torture my pussy. My pussy is so sore and swollen, all cut up and bloody. They pinch my clit in pliers and twist till I scream my guts out."
"That must hurt dreadfully. What else do they do to your poor little pussy?"
Catherine cupped the mouthpiece and said to John, "My god, she's getting off on my torture."
John said, "Then give her something to get off on."
"Catherine. Speak to me."
"I'm sorry, Mother. He pulled on my clit and the pain made me suck in my breath."
"I'll bet your poor little clitty is sore, isn't it, baby?"
"Yes. They stick needles deep into it. Sometimes, my clit looks like a pin cushion."
"I'll bet they like to fuck you with those needles in your clit. Do they, Catherine? Do they fuck you with those needles in your clit?"
"Yes, Mommy, and my pussy lips too. The pain makes me pass out."
"I'm not surprised, but I'll bet you don't pass out right away. You feel those needles getting jammed deeper into your cunt, don't you?"
"Yes, and it is awful pain, Mommy."
"Do they ever burn your pussy or your tits?"
"Sometimes, but they don't want blisters or ugly scars. Still, they can burn my pussy in many ways that won't make a blister. They heat up knives and spoons in hot water. They melt wax on my pussy. They put burning cigars very close until the surface begins to sear."
"What about your tits, Catherine? What do they do to your tits?"
"Terrible things."What exactly?"
"They pull my nipples with pliers, stick long needles through my titty flesh; they whip them, smash them in big clamps, and they put their cigars out on them."
"What do your tits look like now, Catherine?"
"They look awful, all cut up and swollen with big blisters from the cigars. My nipples look like dried minced meat. It's awful what they do to me, and the reverend is the worst."
"What does he like to do, Catherine?"
"He likes to put strong clamps with teeth on my clit and pussy lips, then lead me around on a string tied to the one on my clit. I'm wearing one right now, and...Ahhhhhhh! Oh, Jesus! Please, don't yank. Please!"
Annabelle said, "He pulled the string, didn't he?"
Catherine was crying from another slap, and said, "Yes! I want to die, Mommy. Tell Jesus to take me."
"Catherine, you calm down! Stop acting like a baby. Jesus will take you when he's good and ready. Do not, I repeat, do not ever think about taking your own life. Suicide is a straight ticket to Hell. If you think you are suffering now, take your life. You'll see you had it easy. Catherine, be brave. Endure. You must. Suffering is the path to salvation, and you should welcome the pain. Don't expect any sympathy from me. If you ask me, the reverend is being too easy on you. A whore's life should be one of suffering and torture."
"Mother, how can you say that after what I've told you?"
"I can say that because that's how I feel. Whores should suffer on Earth and burn in Hell. The fact that you are my daughter makes no difference. Right now, you are a whore. I want you to suffer, and if you should die a whore, I hope you burn in Hell. You must earn your freedom in order to earn forgiveness and salvation. If you fail, it's your own fault. I am doing all I can to win your ultimate freedom and salvation; but in the meantime, while you are a whore, you will get no sympathy from me. Now that you know where I stand on the subject, maybe you'll stop your pathetic whimpering and trying to play on my sympathies. Put the reverend on."
"John here."
"Oh, John, that was exciting, but I don't want Catherine to hear what I have to say next. Maybe you should put her in another room so we can talk openly."
"All right. Hang on." John cupped the mouthpiece and told Catherine, "Your mother is one sick bitch."
"No shit. How could my mother get off on my torture? She loves me. I know she does. Dig, John. Find out what she's getting off on and why?"
"I am just as curious as you are. Just sit still and be very quiet. Okay, here we go." John spoke into the phone. "Annabelle, I'm back. I've got her clamp string tied to the bathroom door knob. She's in the bathroom, up on her tiptoes in deep agony."
"You're so cruel. You might rip her cunt out. What a picture? I just pictured Catherine lying on the floor in a huge pool of blood with her pussy hanging on the door knob, a little bag of bloody guts with skin and a tuft of hair at the top."
"Are those the kind of scenes you imagined after handing her over to me?"
"Yes, and those scenes still turn me on. I love hearing her tell me how you tortured her cunt and tits, how she suffered, how she wants to die rather than suffer more. When you jerked her string, that turned me on as well. Hearing her scream, beg, and cry turns me on. I'd like to share the fantasy I had driving home from the train station. I have some ideas for tortures that you might like to try on her. I like tit and cunt torture, the really bloody stuff, but I know you can't do too much of that and still turn a profit. I thought of some great ones, some that will still leave her in working order. We have to mine that gold, don't we."
"I can't wait to hear them, Annabelle, but first, I'm curious, I thought you loved Catherine. What's going on?"
"I do love her. I love her and I miss her terribly. This is all very strange and new to me. Before meeting you, I never entertained such thoughts. It's the devil at work on my mind, but I am protected thanks to you. This is great being able to indulge these thoughts without guilt and without sin. I suffered greatly before we had our talk. I thought it was me thinking those awful things and taking pleasure in them. When you told me you were a disciple of Satan, that explained everything."
"The best of both worlds, huh?"
"Yes, the very best of both. I have even better fantasies now. My favorite is where you keep Catherine for years, then when she's all worn out and useless, when it is time to release her as to our agreement, you slowly kill her while you have me on the phone, telling me every gory detail. You skin her alive and cut parts off her body, minor parts, like her clit, nipples, fingers, toes, eyelids, ears, lips, nose, and all the while, she's screaming, 'Mommy, he's killing me.' I can cum just thinking about it."
"And what would be your response if I did actually do that?"
"I'd be horrified, of course; but I am prepared for that reality. In the fantasy, I work with you, prying out details, suggesting what to cut off next. Basically, you are just doing what I ask you to do. In reality, I don't know if I could actually do that. We'll have to wait and see, won't we? Don't tell me you will kill her, because then you'll strip me of my incentive to humor you to win her release. Surprise me."
"I don't understand why you'd want her dead. You can't save her soul if she dies in my custody."
"No, but I tried. I did the best I could, right up to her last breath."
"What do you think you'd say to me after I told you she stopped breathing."
"What could I say? Talking further with you would be a sin. I'd hang up."
"The show's over; the devil wins another soul. Is that it?"
"That's life. It happens all the time. Heaven isn't crowded. Only the most righteous ever make it. Catherine never had that spark, that kinship with the holy spirit as I do. I knew the devil would get her sooner or later. I've been braced for that all along. I figure if she's going to go to Hell, she may as well start her suffering now. A few years added to eternity is nothing. Those of us who are saved enjoy the suffering of the damned. It is one of the few earthly pleasures we have." | 3 |
6,759 | "My Life - In a Nutshell" (Sports Bra) | "Mmmm... sports bra," I thought in a Homer-esque way.
A tall, brunette jogger had entered the pool of light coming off one of the university campus' 'lollipop' lights, about 20 yards up the sidewalk from me. I had just exited the library and was attempting to make my way back home after a long day.
My day had started with a 7:45 physics test, for which I had been up until 3:30 AM studying. Needless to say, I was looking forward to getting some sleep as my first class the next day wasn't until noon. I had been awakened by the library's closing bell. It was now 11:05, and a cool September breeze had begun to blow from the north.
My progress was slowed considerably by my now basketball-sized ankle. Earlier in the day, during the first intramural softball game of the year, I had done my best Pete Rose impression, and had paid for it. I was safe at home, but the run I had scored had cut our team's deficit only to single digits. We lost by 15 before the head umpire decided to have pity on us.
My train of thought drifted as I thought of the cold beer and leftover pizza waiting for me at home. These thoughts quickly left my mind as the girl in the sports bra entered the next pool of light, only about 10 yards ahead of me.
I noticed she was looking at me. Staring, more like. I began to feel like I should be recognizing this person about now, but was not. I cursed my feeble mind as she quickly approached.
"Hi!" she said smiling warmly, "how was your day?"
She ran right up to me and hugged me. I was too stunned to answer. My mind went into overdrive to try and figure out who this girl was. Was she in a class? A person from my freshman year dorm? She was certainly acting very familiar with me...
"Play along," she whispered in my ear.
"Kiss me," she said, only slightly louder.
I did. She returned the favor. Damn, she's a great kisser, I thought.
As she backed away, she grabbed my hand and led me away from my apartment, cold beer and pizza. I did not mind.
She began to explain herself as we walked slowly back towards the library.
"I was about 20 minutes into my run, when I noticed this creepy-looking guy following me. I didn't know what to do until you came along. You're the first person I've seen in almost 40 minutes," she said, nervously glancing at her watch.
"I'm glad I could help," I said, almost as a question.
I looked over my shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of the offender. I saw no one.
"Don't look! That's too obvious!"
"Isn't that good?" I replied.
"Oh, yeah, I guess so," she quietly said, "Oh, my God, I've kissed you and haven't even introduced myself. And I feel like I know you so well," she added jokingly. "I'm Serena."
"Good to meet you," I said, relieved that this was not someone I should know, "I'm Cal."
"I think you saved my life. That pervert was probably going to drag me off into the woods and rape me or something," she said, in a much more serious tone.
"Oh, I'm sure that wouldn't happen," I said, trying to reassure her. "Didn't you use the emergency call buttons?" I asked, referring to the blue-lit kiosks scattered around the campus.
She explained how the library construction had forced her to take a different route, and how she had looked, but somehow missed all of the emergency phones. It was at about this time we both realized we had made it all the way back to the plaza in front of the library.
"I didn't even notice you were limping," she said with genuine concern, "what's wrong with your foot?"
"Oh, it's not that bad," trying to be tough. Truth was, it hurt like hell, and the pain that had started while I was reading in the library was getting worse. "I just sprained it sliding into home. I play intramural softball in the afternoon."
She knelt in front of me, giving me a great view down her sports bra, and put her hand on the injured ankle, then felt the other ankle as a comparison.
"You're all swelled up. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to drag you all the way back down here, you were probably headed home, too, weren't you?"
"Well, yeah..." I smiled awkwardly, trying to hide the pain in my face.
"I tell you what, I'll make up for you saving my life. I'll wrap that up for you. I'm a sports medicine major, you know." She said with a warm smile, "come on, its not that far. I live in Stewart."
"Oh, the Palace Dorm," I said. I had lived for one year in Spencer Hall, the oldest, smallest and smelliest of the dorms on campus. It was often referred to as Spencer Hell. Stewart Hall, the newest of the five dorms on campus, was a veritable palace in comparison, hence the nickname.
Having agreed to her offer, we made a left turn at the plaza and headed toward the dorms. It was a walk I knew well. While living in Spencer, I had a late evening job at the library's circulation desk. The grove of trees to the north of the sidewalk was a place of peaceful reflection during the day, but tonight, the nearly full moon gave the trees a ghost-like quality. Serena became visibly nervous. As we came to the soccer fields, we heard a rustling in the grove.
"Look!" said Serena, pointing.
I followed her finger, and saw a man standing in the shadows of the trees. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding him, I noticed his blue soccer shorts were bunched up around his ankles, his right hand furiously pounding his cock. He looked up and our eyes met. Immediately, he pulled up his shorts and sprinted into the darkness of the soccer field.
As I followed the figure into the trees on the other side of the field, I felt Serena's head on my shoulder. She was crying.
"We'll call campus police when we get to your dorm," I whispered to her.
Putting my arm around her shoulder, we continued up the hill to her dorm, as she shivered in the cooling air.
As my luck would have it, Stewart was the farthest building on campus from the library, but we continued slowly up the hill, my aching ankle complaining the whole way.
As we neared the door of the five-story building, Serena pulled out the waistband of her shorts to retrieve her keys, which she had tied to the drawstring. As she fumbled with the knot, I was able to take in her body, which was now in the filtered light of the lobby.
She stood about 5 feet, 10 inches tall, with medium brown hair that reached about halfway down her neck. She was wearing a navy blue Nike sports bra, navy blue shorts, and Nike running shoes. She looked like she belonged in a commercial for cross training shoes or something. I immediately felt guilty for ogling over this girl, who was in need of help. I smiled meekly as she finally got the keys free and looked up.
"I need something with pockets," she said, with a half-smile.
Her tears had made tracks down her cheeks, and I noticed that she had a faint sheen of sweat on her upper chest. She let me in the door first, and followed, telling me to make a right turn and go up the stairs. I allowed her to pass on the landing, and she led me to her room, number 216.
The door hung open, and her roommate was standing in front of a small TV, holding a backpack.
In a quiet voice, Serena introduced us, and her roommate, Dana, seemingly too caught up in America's Funniest Home Videos, mumbled, "hi."
Dana finally pulled herself from Bob Saget and picking up a keychain from the desk, left the room, leaving the two of us alone.
"I think I'll call campus police now," said Serena, "make yourself at home," pointing the bottom bunk against the wall, "you can go ahead and sit on my bed."
I carefully pushed aside a number of stuffed animals and tried to make myself comfortable. Unfortunately, I had to slouch to the side to keep my head from scraping the top bunk.
Serena managed to remain somewhat calm as she told her story to the person on the phone.Apparently, she was then transferred to someone else, who took a report and asked her to come to the office in the morning. Agreeing to do so, Serena then hung up.
"I'm sorry, Cal, I'm going to go talk to my RA. I'll be back in a few minutes."
After assuring her that I didn't mind, she turned left out of her door and headed toward her resident advisors' room. I got up, narrowly missing the top bunk with my head. I flipped through the channels and was shocked to see Conan O'Brien on already.
I woke up to see Serena sitting next to me on the bed, gently rubbing my chest.
"Sorry I took so long," she said with a smile, pulling a stuffed rabbit from the side of my head.
"What time is it?"
"About quarter after two."
"Yikes," I said with a grin. "Good thing I don't have class till 12:00."
"I don't have class at all on Fridays," she said, sticking her tongue out.
"Lazy bum."
"I just know how to plan my schedule. That way, I have three-day weekends every week."
"Whatever, you're just lazy."
She began to tickle me on my stomach. "Am not."
I poked her in the ribs, "are too."
She giggled quietly, as to not wake the rest of the floor, who undoubtedly had class in the morning. Stretching, her sports bra exposing more of her perfect flat stomach, she inhaled deeply.
"Damn! I stink!"
"Yeah, no shit," I said jokingly, poking her in the ribs again. She immediately rolled over on top of me, tickling me in the sides.
"So do you! Take that back!" she whispered fiercely in my ear.
"No!"
She continued to tickle my sides, but I retaliated, tickling her exposed stomach. We continued for a minute or two, giggling uncontrollably. I rolled her over on her side, giving me better access to her, but after a few minutes, we were both exhausted.
I rolled over on my back.
"I'd better go now."
"No!" she said a little too excitedly, "I mean, I still haven't paid you back for saving my life."
"Don't worry about it. Besides, you need to take a shower," I said, with a grin.
"Why don't you join me?" she said, with a smirk on her face.
"Uh..." I nearly choked.
"Come on, you chicken?" she mocked me. "No one is up. Nobody will ever know."
She leaned over, untied her shoes, removed her socks, then jumped off the bed, shedding her shorts.
I glanced at the open door, wondering if there were 20 college girls peeking in, hoping to catch a show. There weren't.
She pulled the sports bra over her head, revealing the best pair of breasts I had ever seen. Then she slid her panties down her long tan legs and put on the robe that she had grabbed from the closet.
"Come on, Cal, no free shows," she said, hitting me in the face with a spare towel.
Peeling the towel away from my head, I finally awakened from my stupor, and began to remove one shoe, while she worked on the other. Remembering the pain in my ankle, I winced a bit as she yanked my shoe off.
"Sorry," Serena rubbed my ankle as I removed my other shoe.
Finally free of my shoes and socks, I leapt from the bed, banging my head on the upper bunk as I tried to remove my shorts and stand in one motion.
"Nice one, Mr. Smooth," she said, giggling.
"Shut up."
At this point, as I removed my t-shirt, I realized my dick had worked itself up to about half mast. Embarrassed, I looked sheepishly at Serena, and she turned and walked out the door. After taking off my underwear and wrapping the towel around my waist, I noticed Serena peeking around the door with an evil grin on her face.
"Nice," she said, slapping my ass as I walked past her in the hall.
Making sure there was no one in the bathroom, I cautiously entered. Serena pointed to two adjoining shower stalls that were separated by a curtain.
"If anyone comes in, it'll look like there's two people, but in separate showers," she whispered.
She reached into the showers, turning both on, then removed her robe and stepped in. I admired her perfect ass as she stepped over the threshold to the shower, but my reverie was interrupted by her yanking me by my arm into the stall.
She squirted some soap out of the dispenser and motioned for me to turn around. Starting at my shoulders, she began to lather up my back, then down to my ass. Not yet satisfied, she scrubbed behind my ears before turning me back around, steering with my shoulders.
Leaning over, she kissed me, her breasts brushing my chest, and retrieved more soap from the dispenser. She spread the soap over my chest, until it began to foam up, then moved lower. I gasped as she reached my cock, which had reached full length by now. She massaged it, soaping it up thoroughly, then moved to my balls, which she gave the same treatment. I closed my eyes, enjoying every second of the thorough cleaning I was getting. She moved closer, kissing me again, and wrapped her arms around my shoulders as she pressed against me. Unfortunately, she kept her legs tightly closed to prevent access to her.
"Your turn, sexy," she murmured into my ear, grinding her chest against mine.
She turned me around so that I was in the stream of water. Reaching over her to the soap dispenser, as she had done to me, I motioned for her to turn around. I began at her shoulders, moving down her back, and noticing the lack of any tan lines. I re-soaped my hands and began to massage her firm ass, letting my fingers slide forward into her nether regions. She gasped slightly, so I ventured further. She opened her legs further, giving me unrestricted access to her pussy. She leaned forward, and I inserted a finger, then a second into her moist twat. She began to moan softly, and move back into my probing fingers. With my free hand, I reached around her body, massaging her firm, c-cup tits. Her moaning became more intense, and she looked over her right shoulder at me with a look of lust unlike any I had ever seen. She grabbed my hand, pulling it from her crotch, and said, "that's not going to be enough."
Turning around, she grabbed me by the neck and pulled me toward her. Raising her right leg, she grabbed my stiff rod and positioned it at the entrance to her pussy. Using the shower wall as leverage, I pushed my cock into her soap-lubricated hole. After a few pushes, I realized that my aching ankle was not going to hold up, so I turned around, and with my back against the wet, slippery shower wall, slid down into a sitting position.
Serena began to glide up and down on my engorged tool, with increasing urgency. I leaned forward and began to lick and suck her right breast, massaging the other with my left hand. Her nipples stood out against the rushing shower water and begged for my attention. I moved my to the other breast, until she grabbed my head and kissed me for all she was worth. Her motions on my cock began to quicken as she neared climax, and I could feel that I was near reaching the point of no return myself. Releasing the kiss, she began to bounce madly up and down on my cock, her breasts bouncing inches in front of my face. Suddenly, her face contorted and her pussy began to clamp down on my cock. I could hold back no longer, and we both entered a massive orgasm at nearly the same instant.
I peeked out the door to the bathroom, and noticed the clock at the end of the hall read 3:13. Serena pushed me from behind.
"Let's go. I'm freezing my ass off back here."
She flopped into the bed, her robe falling open to reveal her perfect body, which was, at this point, covered with goosebumps. She hurriedly covered herself with a comforter and tossed her robe at me.
"I thought you were cold," I said, sarcastically.
"It's warmer with two when you're naked," she said, "you are staying, aren't you?"
"Is that an invitation?" I said with a smile.
"Well, duh," was the reply.
Removing the towel, I climbed under the covers with Serena. Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind.
"What about your roommate?"
"She's at her boyfriend's." Serena replied, "she spends so much time there, I don't know why she bothers paying the rent for this place."
"Good storage I guess," I said, noticing the boxes piled up in a corner.
"It's her TV and VCR, too, so I'm glad she lives her," said Serena with a smile.
I chuckled.
"Thanks for saving my life," Serena said, then kissed my ear. "Have I paid you back appropriately?"
"Hmm... I don't know," I said with a smirk.
"Oh yeah," she said, reaching over and grabbing my dick.
"Yeah."
I rolled over to face her, kissed her cheek and rubbed her bare stomach.
"My ankle still hurts."
She smacked me on the forehead and grinned.
"We'll have to take care of that in the morning," she said, rolling over.
I put my arm over her shoulder and pulled her close.
The curtain billowed into the room as a chilly wind howled across the campus. The first big storm of the year was sure to follow, and I was freezing my ass off. Hard to believe that just yesterday, the weather was nice enough for me to take my usual jog in just shorts and a sports bra. I put my arm over Cal, who was hogging the comforter, and snuggled closer as I pulled the thick flannel sheet over my naked body.
He began to move slightly, so I asked him to go close the window. Seeming to have no resistance because of his early morning stupor, he slowly rose and made his way to the window. His bare ass looked perfect in the filtered morning light, and the view when he returned was just as spectacular. He climbed back into the bed, this time facing me.
"Good night," he said.
"Wake up, lazy butt. It's after ten already."
"So. Don't have class till noon," he said, barely coherently, "don't have to get up till 11:50."
I tickled his stomach, but it had no effect.
"Doesn't work this early," he said with a tired smirk.
"Please," I said as I kissed his forehead.
"Uhn-uhn," was the mumbled reply.
I kissed his forehead again, then his cheek. No response. I kissed his lips and licked them softly. Still, nothing. I made my way down to his neck, then his chest.Still, he made no move. Under the darkness of the sheets, I could see that his penis was hard. At least I was having some effect on him.
Suddenly, he slid down towards the end of the bed, his face inches from mine.
"Are we having a little party down here?" he asked, smiling and suddenly awake.
I smacked him on the forehead, then kissed him. He kissed back, passionately, and I rolled over on top of him. He started laughing.
"What's so funny," I asked, mildly irritated.
"I'm about to fall off here," looking toward the floor.
I realized then that only his right side was actually on the bed. Just then, our center of gravity shifted as he tried to turn back to look at me. We ended up in a pile on the floor, naked as the day we were born.
I started giggling. I wasn't cold anymore. His body acted as a perfect, body-sized heater that seemed to keep every part of me warm. Some more so than others.
He kissed me, and rolled over on top of me, farther away from the bed. I was suddenly nervous.
"What if my roommate comes home?"
"She's already here," snickered Cal, pointing toward the top bunk.
"When did she get here?" I whispered, suddenly wanting to cover myself.
Cal smiled and mouthed the word "five."
"She's been here since five?!"
I got up quickly and, as carefully as possible, climbed back into the lower bunk, motioning for Cal to follow. He climbed in, and lay on his back as I placed my head on his shoulder.
I rubbed my hand over his muscular chest, and kissed his cheek. He turned toward me, and reached over my shoulder, pulling me closer. We kissed for what seemed like ages before my hands began to wander again. I put my arm around his waist, then pulled him as close to me as possible, his hardening penis pressing against my stomach. Rolling over on top of him, I continued to kiss him as his hands roamed over my bare back and ass. I began to grind my hips into him, rubbing his cock. He moaned quietly and broke our kiss, pushing me over onto my side. He massaged my stomach with his gentle hands, then began to lick and kiss the tops of my breasts. Moving his hand up to cup my left breast, he kissed and licked in a circle around my nipple, moving closer to it on each pass. Finally, he reached the nipple and began to suck and lick it like a hungry infant. I moaned quietly as he continued, then moved to the other breast. In the meantime, his free hand moved lower, brushing through my pubic hair, barely missing my pussy.
I begged for him to move faster, as I felt my pussy begin to moisten. He looked up and smiled, his blue eyes telling me that I'd have to wait just a moment longer. His hand moved around to my ass, and I groaned in disappointment. He continued his kissing and licking route to my belly button, and finally, began to spread my legs apart with his hands. My pussy dripping with anticipation, he rubbed his nose through my pubic hair and to the top of my slit. Inhaling my fragrance deeply, he rolled me over on top of him in a quick motion, so that we were in a 69 position. As he began to softly tease my cunt lips with his tongue, I started to gently massage his balls.
His licking and sucking became more intense, and I reciprocated with his cock. Grabbing it firmly with my right hand, I began to lick the underside of his erect tool, teasing the head with the tip of my tongue.
His tongue found its way into my pussy and I shuddered. As he stroked my clit with the tip of his tongue, I felt a familiar feeling build. I released my grip on his cock and put my arms around his legs as his probing tongue, and now, fingers, started me on an orgasm unlike any I had ever had before. Forgetting I was in a dorm, I began to moan loudly, grabbing onto his legs like they were the last thing holding me on earth. My thighs clamped around his head, forcing him to keep up his ministrations. Finally, after what seemed like hours, I started to relax.
I rolled off of him, panting. His face appeared next to mine. I grabbed his head and kissed him deeply, tasting my own juices.
"Wake up. I've got to go to class now," Cal said, sitting up.
"Oh. Did I fall asleep again?"
"Yeah. Looks like you had a pretty nice dream too," Cal said with a grin, pointing to the wet spot on the sheet.
From above came a giggle.
"Yeah, a really nice dream," said Dana.
I looked at Cal with a shocked expression. He smiled back and shrugged his shoulders. Leaning over, he whispered in my ear.
"I'll give you a call."
"You don't know my number."
"I got it off the phone," Cal said, pointing to the dorm-issued phone.
He kissed me, then got up to retrieve his clothes. After putting on his underwear, he sat down on the bed and I scratched his back as he pulled on his shorts.
"Mmmm... that feels good."
"Cut it out down there. Once is enough for today," Dana said with mock seriousness.
I just looked at Cal with the same shocked expression. Once again, he shrugged his shoulders.
After putting on his shirt, he grabbed his backpack, walked to the door and blew me a kiss as he walked out.
My pessimistic side wondered if I'd ever see him again.
I opened the door, hoping no one was home. I didn't feel like dealing with the questions: where were you? why are you wearing the same clothes? My roommates were like a bunch of junior high school girls or something. Always gossiping. I quickly made my way across the living room, which was littered with empty beer cans, to my room. The pain in my ankle had miraculously disappeared. I put the piece of paper with Serena's number on it and headed for the bathroom.
After relieving myself, I went to the kitchen. I'd had nothing to eat since before my softball game yesterday at 3:30. Just as I opened the fridge door, the front door flew open.
Bryan entered, as usual, loudly and destructively. Throwing his loaded backpack onto the beer can covered coffee table, he yelled, "strike!" as several cans crashed to the floor. About this time, he noticed me, standing in front of the refrigerator, shaking my head at the spectacle.
"Hey, where have you been. Up late studying?" Sarcasm was a usual component of his speech, but this time he was laying it on pretty thick.
"Yeah, fell asleep at the library. Had to stay overnight. Got locked in," I responded, with equal sarcasm.
"Oh, and I thought perhaps the world's last remaining 22-year old virgin had scored," he said with a wide grin. "Guess not."
He turned and went to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him.
"Maybe someday, huh, Cal?" He yelled from the john.
As much of an asshole as Bryan was, he was very perceptive at times, when he wasn't drunk at least. Of course, he could have just been reaching for something to insult me with.
"Whatever, Bryan," I said, half to myself.
I returned to my room to try and finish up the homework I had forgotten to do for my 12:00 class. Hopefully, I could get it done in time to take it up to campus before the professor's office hour was over at 4:30.
Flipping my computer on, I sat down and guzzled some Mountain Dew. Last night's activity had made me very sleepy at this point, and the soda was all I could think of to keep me awake at the moment.
I decided to check my email before doing my homework, delaying the inevitable. Logging on, I discovered a message from Serena. Without wondering how she got my address, I opened up the file and began reading.
"Hi Sexy,
You left your wallet here, so I decided to look you up in the student directory. Come pick it up, and I'll take you out to dinner... or maybe you'll take yourself out to dinner ;).
Love,
S."
I felt around to my rear pocket, remembering the paycheck that was still in my wallet.
After finishing my homework in record time, I hopped on my bike, riding toward campus. Once I had dropped off the assignment, I headed up the long hill to the dorms.
As I approached Stewart Hall, I realized I had left Serena's number on my desk at home.
"You didn't!" Dana exclaimed.
"Yeah... I just had a good feeling about it though," I replied.
"I can't believe you lost your virginity to a guy you only knew for two hours!"
"It was more like three..."
Crack! Dana jumped up, looking out the window.
"Hey lover boy!"
I jumped up and ran across the room, pushing Dana from in front of the window. Looking down from our second-floor window, I saw Cal, blushing and looking around nervously.
"Let me in," he said, quietly.
I practically tripped down the stairs as I ran to the door. Almost knocking him out, I swung the outside door open with a flourish, and hugged him.
"I'm glad you came."
"I had to get my wallet," he replied with a grin.
Using his wallet as a weapon, I smacked him across the forehead.
"There!"
"What did you have in mind for dinner?" I asked, rubbing my forehead.
"I don't know, but I'm starving!"
"You'll have to drive then, 'cause I rode my bike up here," I replied, "unless you'd like to ride the pegs."
"That sounds like fun," she said with an evil grin on her face. I wondered if she meant what I thought.
Turning, she motioned for me to follow her inside.
As we climbed the stairs to her room, we met Dana coming down. She gave Serena a big grin, and then winked as she passed me.
Entering her room, I crashed into her as she suddenly turned. At that point, I noticed her eyes.
"You have beautiful eyes."
"No I don't. They're shit brown," she said, looking down.
"I love brown eyes," I said, holding her head up with my right hand.
She smiled shyly at me and turned me around with my shoulders.
"Let's go. I'm hungry!"
I looked over at the clock. It read 10:03. Cal lay quietly sleeping at my side as I ran my fingers through his hair, half-trying to wake him up. He must not have gotten much sleep in the last couple of days.
Laying back, I thought about our evening. It had gone pretty well, considering.We actually had a lot to talk about, which was nice. I hoped that our conversation had taken his mind off of my ravenous appetite, which had caused me to eat about twice as much as he did.
I climbed over Cal, pausing briefly to kiss his forehead. He still did not stir, so I continued off the bed and began taking my clothes off.
Leaning my naked body over him, I whispered, "Cal. Cal. Wake up. Hey."
"Mmphh."
"You gonna sleep in your clothes or what?"
Finally, he opened his eyes slightly.
"Probably not," he said, with the half-smile that I had already grown to love.
Sitting on his thighs, I pulled his shirt off over his head and began to unzip his jeans.
I shut off the water and climbed out of the shower, reaching for a towel. Walking out of the bathroom, I rubbed my hair dry and noticed that Serena was still asleep. Throwing the towel on the back of a chair, I walked over to the window and opened the curtains, allowing the bright desert sun to shine directly on the bed. Turning back to the bed, I noticed she was finally stirring. She looked at me with a strange grin on her face.
"You know, all of Las Vegas can see your ass..."
"I don't care," I said, turning around, "let 'em see it all!"
A pillow struck me in the face as I turned back toward Serena.
"Weirdo."
Taking a running start, I jumped on the bed, nearly bouncing her out. She pulled the medieval-themed comforter over her head as she tried to roll away from me. Now laying on her stomach, I laid down entirely on her and spoke through the comforter into her ear.
"Wake up, sleepyhead. We've got lots to do today."
"Do you know what time it is?" came the muffled reply.
"Yeah, it's 7:15."
"So let's do some math here. We went to bed at 4:00. How many hours does that leave for sleeping?"
"Three."
"Three!! No normal person can function on three hours of sleep, much less have to meet someone's parents."
She began to struggle beneath me, but I had her held down with my legs. Sitting up, I began to pull back the comforter and sheet. Rolling over, she whacked me in the side of the head with her pillow.
"Me need sleepy," she said with a tired smile.
"Not gonna happen."
I peeled the sheets farther back, revealing her naked body. About the time I had uncovered down to her navel, she suddenly grabbed the comforter from my hands.
"Cut it out!! Close the curtains."
"Aren't you the person I had sex with in a dorm shower just a few months ago? When did you get all shy? Besides, we're on the 16th floor."
"Oh."
"Come on, get up... please?"
"Alright," she drawled, "you're gonna have to help me shower, though."
"Say, you've never told me how you got this great tan," I said, running my hand over her bronzed left breast.
"I'll never tell."
"I'll tickle you."
"Do me your worst."
"Fine. Never mind then," I said, hoping to play reverse psychology. It didn't work.
"Get off me if you want me up," Serena said, poking my stomach. "Ooh, you're getting fat!"
Sucking in my gut, I got up off the bed, pulling her up by her arms.
"Let's go take a look out the window," I said, pulling her in that direction.
"Maybe when I get some clothes on," she said, still being shy.
"I'll cover up your important parts," I said, stepping behind her.
Wrapping one arm around her chest, and placing one hand on her crotch, I walked her over to the window.
"See, this is what Vegas looks like in the daylight," I said over her shoulder. The view out the east side window of the Excalibur was unimpressive -- the airport followed by vast stretches of strip malls and red tile-roofed houses.
"Great."
"Looks better at night, doesn't it?" I said.
"Yeah."
She turned her head toward me and we kissed. I steered her toward me and hugged her close, her naked skin against mine. My dick began to press its way between her legs as she rubbed her hands across my back and rear.
I began to kiss my way down her neck, and to her upper chest as she ran her hands through my hair. Her fear of being spotted gone, she pressed my head lower until I was eye level with her breasts. I began kissing and licking my way around her perfectly formed tits, finally focusing on her nipples. After administering a good sucking and kissing to her right nipple, I moved to the left, at which point she pulled my head tight to her chest.
"Bite it," she whispered.
I did as I was told and was rewarded with a gasp.
Placing her hands firmly on my shoulder, she shoved me downward. I collapsed to the floor with a thud. Crouching in front of me, she pushed my shoulders to the floor, and climbed over me, straddling my erect penis. Looking down, she positioned herself above my dick and lowered herself so that my member was flat in between our bodies. Moving back and forth in a sawing motion, she leaned over me, placing her breasts directly in front of my face.
As I sucked on a tit, she continued her back and forth motion, and I could feel her juices begin to drip onto my crotch.
She tossed her head back quickly, denying me of any breast action and began to move more rapidly. Faster and faster she went, until she began to quake with orgasm. Falling back down on my chest, she grabbed my head with one hand and kissed me deeply. With the other hand, she guided my throbbing dick into her soggy pussy.
"Holy shit! I don't think I've ever come like that before," he said, rolling over on top of me.
"Me neither," I said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Looks like you'll have to take another shower."
"Damn it," he said with a grin. "You're amazing," he said, sitting up. "Oh, look, a cloud."
Sitting up, I looked out the window. Sure enough, a lone cloud had entered our line of sight, spoiling an otherwise perfectly blue sky. I stuck my tongue in his ear, causing him to jerk away.
"Ahhh! Why do you always do that?"
"Cause I like to freak you out."
"Warn me before you do that," he said, pushing me back to the floor.
Running his hands through my hair, he bent over and kissed me. I returned the kiss, then he began to kiss his way down my neck. Turning my head with his hand, he kissed his way up the side of my neck, then suddenly moved higher and stuck his tongue in my ear.
"Aiiyyeee!!" I screamed, thrashing around.
"See?"
Tickling him under the arms, I was able to free myself from his grasp. I jumped up and sprinted to the bathroom, where I slammed the door and locked it.
"Looks like you aren't going to be able to wash those hard to reach places," he said on the other side of the door a moment later.
Opening the door, I grabbed his head and pressed my lips to his. Still kissing him, I dragged him into the bathroom and pulled his body to mine.
Serena sat on the bathroom counter, brushing my hair.
"I'm glad you decided to let your hair grow out."
"Mmm," I said, paying more attention to a drip of water that had made its way from her wet hair, down her neck, between her breasts and to her thigh.
"Wake up," she said, tilting my head back up.
"So," I said, placing my hands on her thighs, "ready to meet my parents?"
"Ughh."
The clock on my dash read 11:00 as I eased my car into traffic on westbound US 95, nearly getting run over by a Chevy Suburban in the process. Come trade-in time, I'm getting something with a V6.
"You hungry?" I asked Serena.
"What?"
"Wake up, spacey," I said, "are you hungry?"
"Sure."
Exiting the highway at Lake Mead Boulevard, I spotted the sign advertising the In-and-Out Burger location. Pulling into the parking place, I caught a whiff of the world's best burger through my open window.
"Mmmm, In-and-Out," I mumbled.
"Cal, I'm scared about meeting your parents."
"Don't worry, they don't bite," I said with a smile.
"I don't know if I should eat anything. I feel like I'm gonna puke."
I wasn't sure if it was going to be better this way. Cal had suggested we come out a day early and spend a night in a hotel, before going to his parents' house. Looking back on it, it might have been better just to meet at the dinner table or something. Oh well, too late now. I looked up at Cal, who was messily devouring a 'double-double.'
"You've got a little something in your teeth, there," I said, laughing.
Swirling his tongue around, he grinned back.
"Get it?"
"Yeah."
After eating a couple of fries, he returned to his burger.
"How long are we staying?"
"Just two nights."
Then it was off to southern Utah for us, for some camping and hiking. I hoped the weather would be nice, so we wouldn't have to be stranded in some podunk town the whole time, waiting for flooding to stop or something.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yeah. Let's do it," I said with a nervous sigh.
I looked down suddenly as I felt a warm, wet sensation around my penis. In the thin light of the morning, I could see the top of Serena's head above my crotch. Sensing that I was now awake, she looked up and grinned, then began to bob up and down rapidly on my erect tool.
"What a way to wake up," I thought as I let my head fall back to my pillow.A friend brought me flowers, she said they were lilacs,
But I've never been good with plants.
Her next presentation, a new dictionary,
She circled the word "romance."
So enthusiastic, a little bit drastic,
I shaved her name in my head.
As she beheld it, she said I misspelled it;
Need more be said?
The light filtering in through the curtains above the bed had become
brighter, and at about this point, I realized that Serena was in fact in
the guest bedroom at the opposite end of the house. Shit.
These apples are delicious!
"As a matter of fact they are," she said.
Can all this fruit be free?
I rolled over and flipped the switch on the clock radio to 'off.'
"Gahh," I gasped as cold water dripped on the back of my neck. Cranking
the faucet all the way to the left, I hoped there was hot water left in
the house. Serena had obviously already showered, as I noticed several
long brown hairs in the drain.
I made my way down the hall toward the kitchen. I could hear Serena and
my mother talking. Suddenly, they both broke out laughing. Great.
"Hello, sunshine," said my mom.
"Mmphh."
I poured myself a bowl of Wheaties, then took a seat at the kitchen
table.
"Sleep well?" she continued, hoping to elicit some sort of response.
"Sure."
"Is he always like this in the morning?" asked Serena, knowing damn well
what the answer was.
"Generally, unless it's Christmas or something," said my mom, getting up
from the table to pour some more coffee.
Serena winked at me. I stuck my tongue out at her.
Having finished my cereal, I got up and placed my bowl in the sink.
"So, when are you guys leaving?" asked my mom.
I filled the bowl with water, then grabbed a glass from the cabinet.
"Probably around 11:00," I said, looking toward Serena for
confirmation. I reached into the fridge, pulling out a container of
orange juice.
"That is, unless you want us out of your hair sooner." I poured myself
a tall glass of juice and leaned on the countertop.
"He always acts like we're trying to get rid of him," said my mom to
Serena with a smile.
"Besides," I added, "we have to hit In-and-Out on the way out of town."
The sun began to rise above the mountains, but the nylon fabric of the
tent diffused most of the light. I rolled over and tried to fall back
asleep. At that point, I realized Cal was no longer in the tent with
me. Oh well, I thought as I sprawled out over the entire floor of the
small tent.
I awoke again what must have only been a couple of minutes later,
judging by the light, a rock poking my rib.
"Shit." I rolled around, trying to get comfortable again, but it just
wouldn't happen. I noticed the smell of bacon, so I decided to get up.
The cold air hit my naked chest as I unzipped the sleeping bag. I had
on only a pair of boxers that I had stolen from Cal last night, and was
now regretting the fact that I didn't put my sweats back on after we had
made love in the zipped-together sleeping bags. Grabbing a blanket from
the corner of the tent, I made my way outside. The red sand felt cool,
but not cold on my feet as I stood erect and noticed for the first time
the sunrise over the distant peaks.
Cal sat on a rock, with his back to me, tending to the fire and
breakfast. Leaning forward, he picked up a coffee mug and took a sip.
He still did not notice my presence as I walked up behind him.
I wrapped my blanket-covered arms around him and kissed his neck. It
was cold.
"You should be wearing something warmer."
"You sound like my mom," he grumbled, turning to kiss me. "Look who's
talking!"
He slid forward on the flat rock, and I sat behind him, wrapping the
blanket around both of us. We sat in silence, taking in the sunrise and
the smell of cooking bacon. After a few minutes, I noticed my butt was
numb from the cold sandstone, and I had to stand.
"I'm gonna go put some clothes on," I said, noticing my breath for the
first time.
I puffed a couple of more times on the way back to the tent, wondering
if my ass was going to have frostbite.
"I'm going to steal your sweatshirt," I said from the tent.
"Okay."
Serena emerged from the tent, wearing my sweatshirt, blue jeans, hiking
boots, and my Rockies hat. I didn't mind that she'd stolen my hat, too
-- she looked better in it than I did.
"Took your hat, too."
"I noticed," I said, trying to sound annoyed. She didn't buy it.
"How far do we have left?" She asked, after kissing my cheek.
"About ten miles, probably. I'd have to look at the map."
We were starting the third day of a backcountry hiking trip through
Canyonlands National Park. Despite the chill, the weather had been
perfect the last couple of days, and looked to be beautiful today as
well. As the sun continued to rise over the La Sal Mountains, I could
count only three clouds in the sky.
After breakfast, I packed up the tent, and marveled at the location of
our last nights' camp site. We had pitched the tent in a large, sandy
flat, surrounded by juniper trees, and two house-sized sandstone
blocks. To the east, we had a great view of the mountains, and to the
west, about 100 yards away, was a deep crevice that led to a larger
canyon.
"Ready?" I asked Serena.
"All set."
"Good thing I didn't sleepwalk last night," I said, as we passed the
crevice.
"You don't sleepwalk."
"Sure I do," I replied, "you just never notice, 'cause you're too busy
talking to yourself."
"Whatever," she said from behind me.
I flinched, expecting some object to hit the back of my head at any
moment.
"I can't find anything to throw," Serena said, noticing my hunched over
position.
"I had a dream the other morning, in Las Vegas," I said.
"About what?" she asked, as she walked beside me.
"You were giving me a blowjob."
She threw me a dirty look.
"There might be people around, you know."
"Haven't seen anyone in two and-a-half days."
"So? You still shouldn't talk about things like that."
"Sorry," I said, wrapping my arm around her shoulder and pulling her
close.
"Good," she said, punching me in the ribs.
We entered a dry, sand and cobble filled wash, lined with high
embankments of sand and occasional 'beaches.' Reaching the shade of a
juniper, we paused for a moment, and I reached into her pack to get the
water jug.
"It's getting kind of warm," I said, pulling my pack off. "I'm gonna
take off my sweatshirt."
"Good idea," she said, and reached around to remove her backpack.
As my head popped out of the collar, I looked over to Serena. She had
removed her sweatshirt, and was shaking her head to untangle her hair.
She was naked from the waist up.
"I thought there might be people around."
"I haven't seen anyone in two or three days," she said with a smirk. She
walked over to me and put her arms on my shoulder. "I had a dream the
other night. We were having sex on a sand dune. Guess this will have
to do," she said, waving her hands at the sand embankment.
She pushed me into the sand, and as she kissed me forcefully, began to
grind her pelvis into my denim-covered crotch. Leaning back, she pulled
my t-shirt over my face and began to lick and kiss my chest. I
struggled to free myself from the shirt, but to no avail. She kissed
and licked her way to the top of my underwear, where she released my
shirt and began to unzip my jeans.
I pulled the shirt from my head and looked down. She was in the process
of removing her jeans, and revealing the fact that she was wearing no
panties. She looked up at me with a lustful look in her eyes. "Lift,"
she said, as she removed my boxers. Then, with a sudden motion, she
took my cock in her mouth. I was stunned by the quickness of it, but
then as quickly as she had started, she stopped, and moved her body up
even with mine.
Turning my head with her hands, she kissed along the side of my neck, to
my ear. Licking my ear, she whispered, "we're gonna do my dream first."
She leaned back slightly, so she was kneeling above me. I could see a
fine sheen of sweat on her breasts as she took a hold of my hard dick.
I closed my eyes as she lowered herself onto my waiting cock.
Once he was entirely inside me, I pulled his head to my chest.
"Bite my nipples," I said, barely at a whisper.
He did so immediately, biting and sucking so hard, I though he was going
to swallow them each whole. I moved slowly up and down on his dick,
then began to pick up the pace as my heart began to race. I felt Cal
begin to tense up below me. He came soon after, shooting loads of cum
into my cunt, and I came seconds after his first shot.
Noticing that I had a handful of his hair, I let Cal's head fall back to
the sand. Sweat had beaded up on his forehead and chest, and I wiped a
drop from the bridge of his nose.
The day had started freezing, but now, in the desert sun, the
temperature was probably 95 degrees. I began to giggle.
"What," said Cal, somewhat breathlessly.
"We're gonna get a nasty sunburn."
At that point, Cal's limp, sticky dick fell out of me and onto his
stomach with a 'splat.' I looked down at him and raised my eyebrows
suggestively.
"What?" he said, confused.
"We still haven't fulfilled your dream," I said as I wiggled my way down
his body.
It felt good to be back in my own bed after a week on the road, but I
just wished it could be under different circumstances. Another chill
went down my spine as Serena dripped some more aloe vera lotion on my
butt. After spending almost three hours fucking like bunnies -- dumb
bunnies -- in the scorching sun, I had an all-over burn that I would give
my left nut to be rid of.
Serena was pretty red, too, but her darker complexion combined with the
fact that she had tanned in the nude while on a vacation in the Bahamas
allowed her to escape with little pain.
So here I was, naked in my bed, covered in goopy, green aloe vera
lotion, with a chair propped up against my bedroom door to prevent one
of my roommates from walking in.Either I need to get a lock for my door, or move into my own place.
"That's the last of it," Serena said, interrupting my reverie. "Would you like me to go to the store and get some more?" she asked, holding up the empty bottle.
I looked over my shoulder at her red, naked body, still glistening slightly from the aloe vera I had applied to her skin.
"No, that's all right. I think I'm just going to take a nap."
"Okay. Do you mind if I join you?"
"That would be lovely," I said, my voice muffled by the pillow.
She climbed into the bed, pulling a light sheet up over us, and cuddled behind me.
"I love you," she said.
Hey all- here's part three of the Sports Bra story. I've decided to continue with this story, rather than making it a trilogy -- I really like the characters. Anyway, after this, the story will be known as MY LIFE - IN A NUTSHELL, after the Barenaked Ladies song. You'll notice a couple of BNL lyrics within the story, so if you represent the band, please don't sue me.
This portion of the story actually contains very little sex, but more or less sets up the future chapters. I still think it will be an enjoyable read. There is also a 'teaser' of the beginning of chapter 4.
Thank you all for your support and helpful criticisms. Thanks also to Celeste for her good rating... I hope she and the rest of you have enjoyed the subsequent parts as much as the first one.
One more thing before I get on with chapter 3. My original e-mail address, stcheese was an old one I had, and I did not identify myself in the original post. My new email address is [email protected]
Tiki J.
A crash from outside the bedroom door awakened me. I rolled over slightly, noticing the clock radio next to the bed read 10:04. We had been asleep for nearly four hours. I noticed a rumble in my stomach, but my thoughts about food were quickly extinguished as I heard quiet voices coming from the living room.
"Anyone like a beer?" It was Bryan.
A number of voices answered. It sounded like there were at least six people in the room. Surprising they made so little noise, after all, birds of a feather, and Brian was not known for his quiet demeanor.
"Are you sure this is cool?" An unidentified female voice asked.
"Yeah. Cal and his girlfriend are off camping somewhere or something. They won't be back 'til Monday."
Usually, I take little interest in Bryan. Cal ended up being "stuck" with him as a roommate when one of his other buddies transferred to USC. His other roommate, Jake, was cool, but very shy. I don't think he'd said five words to me in the three month period I had known him.
The conversation continued, but I could make out very little. Cal rustled in the bed next to me.
"Shhhh," I whispered.
No response. I sat up and leaned closer to the door.
A faint beam of light shone through the pale shade on the window. I rolled over and took in Serena's body, looking radiant as ever. The redness caused by the sunburn had already started to fade, and she looked stunning. About that time, I realized that I had once again stolen the sheets, leaving her with no cover. Her placid face showed no indication of being disturbed by that fact, so I continued to take in her body. Moving to my side, I gasped slightly as my sunburned skin stretched over my shoulders.
Serena opened her eyes.
"Hi there."
"Hey."
"Sleep well?" she asked, leaning forward to kiss me.
"Okay..."
"What time is it?"
"Little before 7:00."
"Get enough sleep," she asked with a grin.
"Nope. I think I'll sleep for another three days," I said, yawning jokingly.
"Wanna go get some breakfast? My treat."
"Sure. We can go get some more aloe while we're out. Hey, wanna play some golf today?"
I admired Cal's butt as he teed up his ball.
"Lock and load," he said as he lined up his shot.
With a fluid swing, Cal drove the ball down the fairway. The ball began to drift right and landed behind a large pine tree.
"Damn."
"Better luck next time," I said to him with a smirk as he turned around.
I walked past him to the tee box and patted his rear as he passed. Glancing over my shoulder as I bent down to place my tee in the ground, I noticed he was checking me out.
"Cut that out, pervert."
He stuck his tongue out at me.
I connected with the ball with a swoosh and thwack sound. It carried straight down the middle of the fairway.
"Lucky shot."
"Jealous?"
"Hmmph," he responded.
We hopped in the electric cart and Cal began to crazily speed down the hill toward our balls. Splashing through a puddle, he skidded to a stop in front of my ball.
"Seven?" I asked.
Serena sat across the table from me. I was totaling our scores.
"98," I said.
"Not bad. How did I do?"
"That's your score."
"Really?! I broke a hundred?"
"Yep."
"What did you get?"
"89."
"Wow."
The rain started up again as we climbed into my car. An ominous cloud overhead signaled a much larger storm than the one we had battled on the golf course. I peered over the steering wheel and looked up.
"Gonna be a nasty one."
"Why don't you give us a little forecast, weatherman?" She said with a grin.
"Well, Serena, here's the situation. A major storm front has moved in from the west, bringing with it lightning, high winds, and heavy rainfall. We've received reports of golf-ball sized hail from our reporting station..." I said as I tossed a golf ball her way.
"Go on," she said as she caught the ball.
"The National Weather Service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for the following counties..."
"All you need now is a schtick."
"How?"
"You need to be one of those goofy guys who wear a bowtie or something. You know the type."
"You're saying I can't get by on my good looks?"
"Maybe," she said, running her hand through my hair.
"Hey. You want to go chase tornadoes with me this summer?"
"What?"
"I'm going to sign up for a 'special topics' course. One of the things you can do is go chase tornadoes, then write a paper about it."
"You've got to be joking."
"Come on, it'll be fun. Driving all day, then spending the night in some podunk midwestern town, then driving some more."
"Ughh. Honestly, Cal, I think you should have stuck it out in the Geography department."
"Please. Meteorology is far more exciting than geography. Besides, I'm graduating at the end of the semester this way."
"Were you serious about hail? I need to go put my car in the garage."
I started the car.
Why did you keep the mousetrap?
Why did you keep the dishrack?
These things used to be mine
I guess they still are, I want them back
We sang along together.
Broke into the old apartment
Forty-two steps from the street
Crooked landing, crooked landlord
"Oh! I've got a story to tell you!"
We were sitting on the couch, having finished a dinner of spaghetti and french bread. I broke my gaze from the baseball game and looked into Serena's eyes.
"Shoot."
"Your roommates aren't going to be home for a while, are they?"
"Bryan is at home, shouldn't be back till tomorrow, and I think Jake is on a date."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"Who with?"
"I don't know. Some girl..."
"You haven't seen her?"
"No. Now, please, tell me your story. I'm on the edge of my seat."
She hit me with a pillow, then began.
"Last night, after we fell asleep, I heard Bryan come in with a bunch of people."
"Who?"
"I don't know. Let me finish. Anyway, they were apparently coming back from some party or something, cause they all sounded a little tipsy. So Bryan starts talking about some game. He was explaining the rules to everyone."
"A game? Like a card game?"
"A board game, I think. I'm not sure. So, they're all being really quiet, which I thought was odd."
"Especially coming from Bryan and his crew."
"So I crawled over to the door so I could hear better."
"Snoop."
"Shut up. Anyway, they were just kind of talking and joking around for a few minutes. I was about to give up at that point, but I decided to stick it out for a couple of more minutes. I guess at that point I fell asleep for a second, because..."
"You fell asleep? In the middle of all this excitement?" I asked sarcastically.
Serena glared at me.
"Do you want me to finish?"
"Yes, please. I'm sorry."
"Anyway, I fell asleep, but I woke up again, because there was this big crash."
"A crash..."
"Yeah. It sounded like someone had picked someone else up, but dropped them."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. So anyway, they started talking. They were arguing about what someone had to do if they failed a task. So apparently, the person's punishment was to tell their most embarrassing experience. It was a girl, and she was really quiet. I couldn't hear what she said. So apparently, they moved on to the next round of the game or something. I heard Bryan describe it as 'embarrassing or sexual, but not too personal, but with no contact' or something like that."
"Hmm, this is starting to get interesting."
"Yeah. So Bryan offers everyone another beer. I guess most of them took one, but anyway, they kept playing the game. The next person had to talk about pornography for 30 seconds without saying the word magazine."
"Did he do it?"
"She. Yes. She talked about porn on the internet. Stories, pictures, all that. She sounded pretty knowledgeable. Anyway, they kept going like that, someone had to talk about lingerie with out saying the word silk. Someone else had to use a condom in a non-sexual way."
"How'd they do it."
"Don't know.""I think he blew it into a balloon."
"How unimaginative."
"Yeah. So, then they moved to the next round. Bryan described it as 'sexual, mildly personal with contact.'"
"The plot thickens."
"The first person had to eat a banana in a provocative manner. Everyone was laughing. I'm not sure if that means she did a good job or not. The next person had to describe three sexual positions."
"Which ones did they do?"
"He, I think it was Bryan, said missionary, doggie style and cowboy."
"Okay."
"Okay, so the next person had to describe the sexiest piece of underwear they had. It was the quiet girl again, so I couldn't hear what she said."
"Bummer."
Serena looked at me questioningly.
"Bet the quiet girl is hot," I said with a knowing grin.
"How would you know?"
"I don't. I'm just giving you a hard time," I said, nudging her in the ribs.
"You're this close to not hearing the good part, wiseguy."
"Sorry. Continue."
"Okay, so they moved to the next round."
"What did Bryan call that one?"
"Don't know. Someone was making a racket in the kitchen. I'm surprised they didn't wake you. Anyway, I heard something about embarrassing. So the first person has to describe a sexual fantasy."
"And?" I was getting into this.
"It was the quiet girl again."
"How did it get to be her turn again?" I asked, mildly annoyed.
"Hell if I know. Anyway, the next guy had to rank the girls in the room by how well he thought they kissed. The next person was a girl named Jen, and she had to rank the guys on how nice she thought their butts were."
"Did they verify this?"
"No, that comes later."
I did a double take.
"Yeah. So anyway, by this time, there's lots of giggling and whispering. The next guy had to pose in a compromising position for a picture with one of the girls."
"What did they do?"
"I don't know, but by this point, I was getting pretty curious. They started laughing pretty loud, so I moved the chair out from under your doorknob and opened the door a little bit. They were all sitting in a circle on the living room floor. It was kind of dark, but I could make out Bryan, that guy he was with the other day..."
"Jeremy."
"Yeah, and one other guy. Then there were three girls. Anyway, they moved on to the next round. Bryan described it as sexual, tough and personal."
I nodded my head.
"Quit smirking you pervert."
"Who was watching?"
"Shut up. Bryan is next. One of the girls asks him to tell everyone the color of his underwear, and prove it. Bryan jumps up and drops his pants, he was wearing blue boxer shorts. So Bryan tells one of the girls... I think it was Jen... that she has to remove her bra without removing her shirt. She did it, then asked one of the other girls to educate the room about the basics of safe sex. One of the guys had to guess the color of one of the girls' underwear, but he was wrong so he had to take off his pants. The last guy had to demonstrate a sexual position with the quiet girl."
"What did he do?"
"Doggie style," Serena said with a smirk.
"What next?"
"The last girl had to put on a blindfold, kiss all the guys and tell who was who."
"Did she get them all right?"
"Of course not. She got them all wrong. She had to do one of the things from the next round."
"What did Bryan call that round?"
"I don't think he had a name for it, but he said something about the game being for all the marbles from then on. Anyway, the guys all got together to pick out her punishment."
"And?"
"She had to take off her clothes for the rest of the game."
"All of them?"
"No, she left her underwear on. So Bryan was next, and the quiet girl told him to rank the girls in the room by how nice he thought their boobs were."
"And?"
"And what?"
"How did the rankings go?"
"Jen came in first. I couldn't hear the other two names."
I nodded appreciatively. Jen was definitely a knockout.
"What next?" I asked.
"Okay, so Bryan ranked the girls... Oh yeah, Jen had to rank the guys on how big she thought their dicks were."
"I don't want to know."
"Of course. Anyway, one of the guys had to french kiss one of the girls. Then they moved to the next round. For the first one, the quiet girl had to rank the guys on how big she thought they were, but then she had to verify it."
"Wow."
"Yeah. So, she lined them up, and they had to drop their pants. I couldn't see much, unfortunately, but Jake's was the biggest. Then the boy with no name had to do the same for the girls' boobs. Jen ended up being the winner, although from what I saw of the other two, they weren't bad either."
"Not as nice as yours though."
"Of course not. Anyway, Bryan was saying that they technically were going to the next round, but it became mostly a free for all after that."
"What do you mean? An orgy?"
"Umm, yeah, I guess."
"Holy shit."
"Bryan had to look at the girls' breasts, then identify them with his eyes closed. Then Jake played with the quiet girl's crotch."
"While she still had clothes on..."
"Nope."
"Wow."
"Jen had to pick two other people and have a threesome."
"Oh my god."
"After that, the game pretty much ended."
"I could imagine."
"I think you already are," Serena said, glancing down at my bulging crotch.
"You had to tell the story. So what happened next?"
"Well, for a minute, everyone was kind of making out and stuff, but then Bryan said he had one more challenge for Jen."
"What was it?"
"She had to lay perfectly still and quiet while he sucked her off."
"Did she do it?"
"For about a minute. Then she couldn't take any more and wrapped her legs around Bryan and pulled him down. I couldn't see much because they were behind the coffee table, but she was definitely not being silent."
"So everyone just got it on right in the middle of the living room floor?"
"Not everyone. Jake and one of the girls did it on this couch."
"Uhh."
"Pretty good story, huh? And it's all true."
"That's it? You're just going to leave me hanging. No gory details about screaming orgasms or flying cum?"
"Gross."
"You wouldn't make a very good sex story writer."
"I like to do real stories."
"Not even a little detail?"
"Okay."
"Well?"
"Jake has a huge cock."
"Oh."
"Jen's boobs aren't nearly as nice as mine."
I nodded.
"Oh, and the quiet girl ain't all that."
I got up to go to the bathroom. Cal was staring into space. The muted TV flickered, showing an image of Larry Walker crossing home plate after hitting a game winning home run.
Walking back into the living room after relieving myself, I stood in front of Cal, interrupting his daydream.
"Want to go get a movie?" I asked.
"Sure," he said, finally looking up at me.
"What are you in the mood for?"
"Something funny."
"The Rockies won."
"Really?"
"Yeah, they just had the highlights on," I said, pointing to the TV, which showed an image of Kenny Mayne and Dan Patrick. "8-6. Larry Walker hit a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth."
CHAPTER FOUR
I sipped my beer, then glanced over my shoulder at the massive scoreboard. The count was full to Larry Walker, the Rockies were down by two with two outs in the ninth.
"Come on Larry!"
The crowd groaned as Larry grounded the ball weakly back to Rod Beck. As Beck threw to first, I turned to Devon.
"We should do this more often."
"Yeah, it's no problem for me to fly in from Kansas City to watch a baseball game."
Devon was my best buddy from high school. It had been his idea to meet up in Denver to watch our favorite team in person. I took another sip of beer and smiled.
"Well it's no big deal for me, either. How about next weekend?"
"Alrighty. It's a deal then. Should we get tickets now?"
"How about for tomorrow, instead?"
"That sounds better. We're leaving Monday morning?"
"Yeah."
"Game's at 1:30?"
"Yeah. We'll have to buy off the street again. I'm guessing it'll be sold out. Besides, even with the crappiest seats, we can move down here," I said, motioning to the mezzanine beyond the left field bleachers.
"True. Want to go hit the bars?"
"Never can have too much beer."
I sighed. The Rockies had lost again and I hadn't seen Cal. It's a bit much to expect to see someone at a ballgame, I guess. I flipped off the TV and got up from the couch. Walking into the bedroom, I grabbed the cordless phone and dialed Dana's number.
"Hello?"
"Hey. I was just wondering how long you were going to be up. I need to pick up the last of my stuff."
"I'm gonna be up for a while. Do you need any help? Company?"
"Yeah, I guess I could use some company. Want to come watch a movie or something?"
"Sure. When's Cal gonna be back?"
"Not for another three weeks. He's in Denver this weekend, but him and his friend Devon are going to take off for Oklahoma on Monday."
"How's he going to afford this little safari?"
"He got a grant or something."
"Didn't he graduate? Shouldn't he be getting a job or something?"
"No kidding. I just hope he doesn't make this tornado chasing thing some kind of career."
"Ughh. So how's it feel to live with a boy instead of me?"
"I hardly know."
"True..."
"Anyway, I'll be over in a minute."
"Okay."
"I'm glad you had the foresight to take a cab to the ballgame," I said, slightly slurring my words.
"I've got everything under control," said Devon, raising his glass.
"To tornadoes."
"To tornadoes."
CHAPTER FOUR, TO BE CONTINUED... | 3 |
6,769 | RUTH'S UNITY SEX | "Tell me Ruth, what's Sandy like?"
"Mistress Sandy is five feet ten, lean and strong-bodied, raven-haired with olive skin and forty-two years old. She's handsome rather than pretty, with a firm jaw, a wide strong brow, and hypnotic dark eyes. She used to be Elaine's mistress, but they're kind of equal now. If you're Elaine's sub, then you belong to Sandy as well."
"What about Unity, what's she like?"
"I'm not allowed to tell you anything about Unity. Sandy absolutely forbids that, it's something you must experience personally."
"She must be something else then?"
"Please don't prod me, Missy. I can't talk about it." I smiled happily, picturing Unity in my mind.
Sandy's girl Unity is not a girl, she's two - Kylie and Meredith. They're the sweetest pair of five-foot-two, twenty-year-olds you could imagine. They are not related, but you would swear they were sisters. Sandy has them refer to each other as sister subs. They have close to the same body shape: nice legs, prominent rear ends, and small perky breasts. Their faces are different - Kylie has wide cheeks, and Meredith has a slimmer face. Their eyes are dark blue and... 'dreamy'. They both have dark brown hair; Kylie's is short, and Meredith's is long. To me, there is only one way to describe them - 'adorable'. To Sandy, they're one sexual unit, never to be separated. She rarely calls them by their names, just 'Unity'. They're always touching, caressing, or hugging each other. Sandy encourages that, though she doesn't allow them to touch sexually, unless they're told to do so. The girls genuinely love each other, and they seem to love their mistress with one mind.
Sandy, a married closet lesbian, met the girls about a year ago. They'd just started college and were renting a small apartment in a building that Sandy and her husband own. He spends a lot of time traveling in his business, leaving Sandy to look after the rental properties and "her extramarital affairs".
The girls had been friends since their first year in high school, but it was a non-sexual friendship, until Sandy somehow seduced both of them.
They arrived half an hour late, which was normal for Sandy. I told Doris that since this was her first time, she had to remain in the living room on her knees while I answered the door. I let them into the foyer, Sandy kissed me as usual, and then let me undress the girls. That was only a matter of removing their knee-length dresses, shoes, and white socks. They were not allowed to wear anything else when Sandy took them out for sex. She told Unity to stay behind, and I followed her into the living room. Doris smiled expectantly at her new mistress. Sandy said nothing, just motioned for her to rise and then step up on a footstool. She walked around her, studying her body critically.
"What's your name and age, wench?" Sandy said while standing behind her.
"Doris, Mistress, I'm nineteen," she spoke nervously. Sandy had that effect on people when they didn't know her. She forced one hand between Doris's thighs and cupped her vagina, probably pushing her thumb hard against the anus. She is strong and lifted Doris's body, forcing her up on her toes. Doris gasped in surprise. She let her down again and put one hand on her stomach. Suddenly, she tore her hand away from her crotch and slapped her ass three times. Just as quickly, she let go, spun her around, threw one arm around her waist, one hand behind her head, and drew her tight, French kissing her fiercely. She then just as suddenly let go and stepped back two feet.
"Speak to your mistress, wench!"
"Tha..nk ... you ... mi.. Mistress," Doris spoke haltingly, catching her breath. She was obviously surprised but at the same time turned on. Her eyes shone eagerly, and her chest heaved rapidly, while she waited for more.
Sandy, not taking her eyes off Doris, spoke to me. "Bring in Unity, Ruth." I left quickly for the foyer. They were standing, as we had left them, waiting obediently, with their arms around each other. I took Meredith's hand and led them into the living room. Doris's eyes nearly came out of her head. The girls smiled sweetly at her, cocking their pretty heads coyly.
"Unity, this is Doris, your new sister sub, and Doris, this is Unity, my personal sub." She moved in between them, facing Doris. "Undress me, Unity, I'm going to fuck Doris." The girls undressed their mistress slowly, without letting go of each other, handing me her clothing. Doris was getting hotter by the minute, her breathing becoming palpitating. Sandy kept eye contact with her, and the girls continued to smile sweetly, eyeing Doris's body and blowing her seductive kisses. When she was naked, Sandy embraced and kissed them while they gyrated and rubbed their bodies against hers. After a minute or so, she told them to stand back, which they did reluctantly. Sandy approached Doris and gently embraced her. Doris's body was trembling with anticipation as she put her arms around Sandy's neck, opening her mouth wide, moaning with pleasure. They kissed and fondled each other passionately for a few minutes while we watched.
Sandy finally sat on the couch with Doris on her lap, motioning for the three of us to stand and watch in front of them. The girls stood with their arms around each other. "Unity," she said, "I want you to submit to Ruth, as you would to me. Kiss, and then offer your body to her." They turned, embracing, feeling each other's behinds, while looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds. Closing their eyes, their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss. Separating again, breathing deeply, lips slightly parted, they turned their faces towards me. Still breathing heavily, they turned their bodies, hugging each other with one arm, while caressing their thighs seductively.
Their minds were now totally focused on submitting to my every desire; eyes sparkling with devotion, love, and a seemingly desperate desire to have that love returned. I have a lot in common with the two girls, being timid and submissive like them. I always sensed that they loved me very much. We were not allowed to express our feelings toward each other, but some things do not have to be said. It was a total change for us, from the more demanding ways of our mistress's. They were, of course, well aware of the special relationship that Unity and I had developed, and matching us up were like granting a special reward. It was for me, and I'm sure for Unity as well. Both of them loved to fondle and dig their fingers into my ample soft flesh.
They waited for my pleasure. I reached out, and they walked into my embrace; reaching their free arms around my waist, their lips pursed, begging to be kissed. Pressing them into my breasts, I kissed Kylie first while Meredith blew in her sister's ear. They both cooed with pleasure, while pressing their bodies against mine. I switched to Meredith's lips and French kissed her while I pressed Kylie's head down to my breast. She sucked gently on my nipple, while at the same time wrapping one leg around my thigh, churning her hairy mound against my flesh. I switched lips again, and now Meredith also pressed her pussy into my thigh. I was in seventh heaven, while we continued to kiss, caress, and fondle each other affectionately.
Sandy watched us out of the corner of one eye while necking with and fondling Doris. "Ruth, my dear, I want you to spank Unity now!" I was kissing Kylie and told her to position her sister. Meredith immediately turned and bent over. Kylie leaned over from one side and held her by the hips. She looked at her sister's protruding cheeks and then smiled up at me invitingly. I kissed Kylie, squeezing her ass with one hand, and went on to give Meredith ten loud slaps. When I finished, she straightened up and threw her arms around me. She dug her fingers into my ass cheeks, kissing me passionately, while Kylie lovingly caressed and kissed her reddened cheeks. Kylie then eagerly presented her buns, and I repeated the process on her. She rewarded me with a long sucking kiss, as Meredith licked and kissed her hot ass cheeks.
"Do it again, Ruth, I love the sound of Unity's flesh being spanked. This time, sit on that straight chair and put her over your lap. I want to hear it forty times on her ass, loud and clear!" Meredith draped her body over my lap as I sat down. Kylie immediately fell to her knees, stroking her sister's back and thighs and smiling at me. I kneaded and fondled the cheeks presented to me and bent over, kissing Kylie's inviting lips. Straightening up again, I lifted one hand, preparing to let it go as Kylie caressed her sister, alternating her dreamy eyes between the cheeks and my face.The three of us stopped breathing momentarily as my slightly cupped hand smacked one cheek. Kylie counted to twenty as my hand pounded her sister's ass. They quickly changed places, and Meridith counted twenty on Kylie's ass.
I let Kylie know that she was the first half of Unity to make love to me. Meridith kissed her sister's reddened ass and helped her up. There was no jealousy between these girls. Each of them truly enjoyed the others' pleasure as her own. I got on my back with Kylie in the sixty-nine position on top of me. Meridith knelt next to us and continued to caress her sister's body. We began licking each other first around the pubes and then little by little, closer and closer to the inner lips and clits. I came almost instantly, while it took her a little longer as she sucked on my juices. Soon she drowned my face with her delicious cum, and we just lay there for a few minutes enjoying the rush.
Meridith was next and eagerly helped her sister off my body. I allowed them to hug and kiss for a few minutes. It was a sweet sight to see Meridith lovingly lick and kiss her sister's cum-soaked face, while they stroked and massaged each other. Without me saying anything, they kissed passionately, and then Kylie helped Meridith lie down on top of me, guiding her thighs carefully around my face. Kylie smiled at me sweetly as she kissed her sisters' buns. She watched happily as my tongue began to titillate the horny girl's vagina, smiling seductively, as if her pussy was still in my face. Both girls moaned as Meridith climaxed, as if they were both being licked. I came a few seconds later while my mouth was filling with her sweet juices. I then made them lie on either side, half on top of me. We then kissed gently, sharing the juices we had sucked out of each other.
I looked up at the couch where Sandy and Doris were eating each other. Doris, by the sounds she made, had come twice, but her tongue was still working on Sandy's throbbing vagina. Suddenly Sandy's pelvis began to move violently, and her thighs clamped tight around Doris's head. She wailed in her usual high pitch while her climax lasted, digging her fingernails in the firm ass above her. She then relaxed her body and began to breathe slowly. I knew from experience that her long pointed tongue was deep in Doris's hole. She always kept it there until her rush was completely over.
We continued to kiss and suck gently until Sandy came off her rush and told us to separate. Doris got up while Unity crawled on "four knees and two hands" to her mistress. Sandy, still lying on the couch, embraced Unity and kissed her gently.
"Did you make Ruth cum, sweetheart?"
"Yes Mistress," they answered in unison. "Ruth always does."
"Did Ruth satisfy my Unity completely?"
"Yes, mistress, I climaxed, twice." Three sets of lips kissed noisily while Doris and I watched.
We cleaned up and had a snack and then watched a movie. Near the end of the movie, the doorbell rang. I put on a housecoat and answered the door.
"Hi, you must be Ruth. My name is Linda. Elaine told me to report here tonight." I let her in and closed the door. This was one of Elaine's surprises. You never knew what she would do next.
"Yes, I'm Ruth. What did Elaine say you would be doing here?" She looked nervous and unsure of herself.
"I met Elaine two weeks ago. She spent a night in my apartment. She told me then that she would like me to be her sub and that she already had one. I wasn't sure then, but I called her two days ago and said that I was ready. She told me to come here tonight, as long as I would be totally submissive to whoever was here. I know she is not here. She told me that. I feel... as... I'm in a trance." She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.
I told her to wait and went back in the living room, explaining the situation to Sandy. She ordered Unity and Doris to stay as they were naked and not to pay attention to Linda when she came in. I was then told to bring her in fully dressed.
"OK, Linda, you can come in, but you are not allowed to speak. I'll show you where to stand. Don't move until the mistress orders you to." She nodded nervously and followed me. I left her standing inside the door and removed my housecoat, sitting on the floor again to watch the rest of the movie.
When the movie was over, we all turned our eyes to the new sub. She smiled apprehensively, eager to speak but held her tongue. Sandy gave her the usual 'new sub' fierce stare and pointed to a spot on the floor, in front of her. She nearly tripped as she walked awkwardly to the designated spot.
"Name and age!" Sandy spoke harshly and mechanically.
"Linda, Mistress, and... I'm... Twenty-two, almost... twenty-three, in three weeks, Mistress." She looked ready to cry.
"How many lesbian experiences have you had!" Sandy spoke, faking a yawn to unnerve her further.
"One, mistress; only once... with Elaine." She trembled a bit as she answered the question.
"What about men, how many and do you like male's fucking you?"
"Three... Mistress, since I was eighteen. I never felt a climax with another person until... Elaine... did it to me. It was wonderful."
Sandy got up and immediately lifted Linda's halter top, exposing a set of slightly drooping tits, probably C cups or better. She fondled them gently, looking her in the eyes. Linda's breathing quickened when Sandy suddenly squeezed them hard and then stepped back three steps. She crossed her arms and stared at her critically. "Lift your skirt, wench!" Sandy loves that term. She closed her eyes and lifted it gingerly, showing her nicely rounded hips, thighs, and a shaven pussy.
"Who gave you permission to shave?"
"Elaine, Mistress, she said I had to shave before coming over tonight. I did it an hour ago, for the first time."
"Turn around, wench, and show me your ass! Ruth, undress her!" I removed her clothes quickly as Sandy sat down and scrutinized her naked body.
"Bend over and grip your ankles!" Her long blond hair touched the floor as she exposed her crotch to everyone. "Spread your feet out more. That's better. Now, you tell me that you have only had one woman's tongue in that crotch. Is that right?"
"Yes, mistress, just Elaine."
"Do you masturbate, if so how often and when did you start?"
"Well... Yes... Mistress... almost every day since I was twelve. Sometimes once; sometimes four or five times."
"How many subs in this room would like to eat Linda's pussy?" Four eager hands rose. "Well now, only one experience until today and in the next hour maybe five more. What do you think about that, Linda?"
"I'll do anything you say, Mistress, anything."
"You can stand up now and come here." Sandy pointed at the floor in front of her, and she obediently got on her knees. "Kiss my feet, wench?" She eagerly did as she was told, passionately kissing both feet until Sandy ordered her to sit up. She then French kissed her, while fondling her tits, and then suddenly stopped. "Now, my little wench, it's time for you to watch Ruth cum. I was ordered up to present my ass for a spanking. Linda was told to get on her back and hold herself up with her hands on the floor, her head between my thighs. I was then told to grasp her tits. "That looks really good, girls. You're not allowed to lick her, Linda, just look at her pussy. OK, Doris, you know what to do with Ruth's ass, right?"
"Oh yes, mistress, I certainly do." She got into position and started to whack my flesh. Linda had no idea what was coming, as I squeezed her head between my thighs. It wasn't long before I began to moan, feeling my climax approaching.
"Open wide, Linda, really wide; as wide as you can. That's good. Now cover Ruth's vagina with your mouth, that's it." I felt her wide-open mouth pushed against my pussy, assisted by Sandy's hand, as I unleashed the flood of pleasure. I yelled ecstatically as Doris pounded my cheeks and Sandy told Linda to suck and swallow my juices. She sputtered a bit from the sheer volume but managed to catch her air. I stepped away and let her straighten up. She turned her head, looking at me with a stunned look, her mouth open.
"You... came when she spanked you, I didn't even get to lick..." She shook her head. "How?" I just smiled at her and knelt, kissing Sandy's feet.
"Linda, who gave you permission to speak?" Sandy spoke firmly, like a mother correcting her child. "Perhaps you need a little discipline?" She fell down next to me, kissing Sandy's feet. "Well, answer me, wench!"
"I'm sorry, mistress. I won't make that mistake again. Please punish me."
"Get up, turn around and bend over. Ruth, take the position she just had but lick the wench's twat." She closed her thighs around my head and clutched my breasts as I began to lick her pussy. Then Sandy ordered Unity to spank her. They alternated their whacks, forcing her body to twist as my tongue wiggled deep inside her delicious orifice. She began to shiver while moaning quietly in short bursts. The shiver turned spasmodic as her pelvis churned violently with the whacks. Her moans became one loud squeal, and then her body went limp. Sandy ordered Unity to stop while Linda moaned quietly with a crying sound, while breathing softly. I lowered my body and motioned for her to kiss Sandy's feet. She lowered herself slowly, nearly losing her balance, behaving almost as if she was drunk. She kissed Sandy's feet sluggishly, still breathing deeply.
"Sandy made her sit up and kissed her on the forehead. "Is there something wrong, my dear?" She shook her head. "Your eyes are dazed. Are you not feeling good?"
"That was the greatest climax I've ever had, Mistress! It was unbelievable. I feel dizzy." Sandy kissed her softly on the lips.
"Well now, it looks like Elaine dug up another nymph. You horny little wench, and you still have four more pussies to attend to before bedtime. It's compulsory, wench, what do you think about that?"
"Please, Mistress. Just tell me what to do.""She looked around at the rest of us, on our knees smiling suggestively. "I'm in heaven, Mistress. I love my new life."
"Doris, come here and sit next to me." She quickly took her seat next to her, Sandy, who put one arm around her and kissed her softly, while running her fingers through her curls. "Pull your knees up, dear, and let us have a look at your snatch. There, spread them out wide for everybody. Who would you like to lick this mound, Doris?" She kissed her again before she could answer, rubbing the body part in question. "Well?"
Doris looked at Linda, bucking her pelvis eagerly, and then faced Sandy, panting like a puppy. "Get your face down there, Linda, and don't leave the table before your plate is clean."
Linda moved her face gently into the wide-open crotch, licking it delicately at first. Sandy French-kissed Doris as she contentedly wrapped her arms around one and her legs around the other. I put my arm around the closest half of Unity, and we squeezed our bodies close, while watching the two women satisfying one.
The show lasted about five minutes, and I don't know who got more horny, Unity and me watching or the three women moaning and licking. Doris finally reached her climax, moaning into Sandy's mouth and jerking Linda's head around with her thigh headlock. Sandy playfully pushed her to the other end of the couch, telling her that she was delaying the pussy-licking schedule.
"Come on, Unity," she slapped her thighs. "Come to Mama," they scurried up on her lap, each kissing one of her cheeks. She looked at Linda's pussy-juice-soaked face, sitting on her knees waiting. "Bring up your knees, Unity, and show Linda your pussies." They cooed happily as they presented their crotches to the bewildered woman on the floor. "Unity has two pussies, Linda, finger them." She reached for the inviting pubes and caressed them. I watched enviously as she masturbated my two favored sub sisters.
Kylie neared her climax first, and Sandy ordered Linda to lick her through her orgasm. Kylie corralled her licker's head with her leg and pushed it into her hot, bucking pussy. Sandy kissed her passionately as Meredith sucked on her mistress's neck. As soon as Kylie began breathing normally again, Linda was told to switch pussies, which she did in the blink of an eye.
Sandy leaned back and let Unity 'French-kiss herself,' as Linda began licking her fourth pussy. Meredith came quickly, having been brought halfway there by Kylie's climax. Linda sat up and looked at her mistress, the juices dripping off her chin.
"One more cunt to go, Linda," she spread her thighs wide as Unity dropped to the floor on each side of Linda. Sandy moved her ass close to the edge and draped her legs on Unity's shoulders. The girls began stroking and kissing her thighs as she reached for Linda's head and drew it into her hairy cunt, rubbing her face in it. She then held out her hand to Doris and me. We crawled up on the couch on either side of her and took turns kissing her, while massaging her body. It took probably ten minutes before the high-pitched wailing from Sandy signaled the start of her climax. Doris was French-kissing Sandy, giving me time to lean down and whisper to Linda.
"Keep your tongue fully inserted and hang on tight to her hips, even if you think she is finished. She will let you know when you can remove it." The wailing got louder, and each one of us did our part to make her climax complete. She began bucking her pelvis while thrashing her limbs wildly. Doris and I each squeezed one of her tits while she squashed both our faces into hers, tonguing one and then the other. Her loud wailing turned into soft moans, and her body relaxed. Everyone continued to kiss and caress, and then suddenly the thrashing and wailing exploded again for a few seconds. Another five or ten seconds of gentle caressing, and then another wild performance. The cycle repeated itself about five or six times, with each explosion diminishing and the pauses getting longer. We continued to stroke and kiss our mistress, and after a minute or so, she opened her eyes. She kissed Doris and then me, lifting her arms away from our shoulders, letting us sit back on the couch. She lifted her legs off Unity and reached to kiss one set of lips and then the other. Finally, she reached and clasped Linda's head and pushed it away from her vagina.
"Get that tongue out and put it in my mouth." She leaned toward her as Linda rose on her knees, until Linda's tongue entered Sandy's mouth. She sucked the juices of her tongue and lips, relishing the taste of her own climax. She pushed her head back a bit, kissing and licking the wet face and neck. "Would you like to do this again sometime?" She pushed Linda's head back, eyeing her quizzically.
"Forever, Mistress. I want to be your sub forever, for as long as you want me. Please?"
"Good, now you and Doris will sleep with me tonight, and Unity, you'll sleep with Ruth." My eyes opened wide as Unity got up and embraced me, cuddling their bodies against mine. I had never before been allowed to spend a whole night with Unity.
"What's the matter, Ruth, is there not enough space in your bed for Unity?"
Unity cooed sweetly as I squeezed 'her' and kissed 'both sets of lips'. "Don't worry, Mistress. 'She' won't take up hardly any space at all."
FINI | 4 |
6,785 | Tender Years | "Are you sure you want to do this?"
With an unsure voice, "Yeah, it's not like we're lesbians or anything." A nervous laugh that didn't last long.
There was a few seconds of awkward silence while the two teenagers looked at each other, before Caroline bent forward and pressed her firm lips to her best friend's. They pulled away and lay back onto the bed looking up at the ceiling.
It was Lisa who spoke first, turning her head on the pillow facing Caroline's. "If we are going to do it, then we should do it right?" She had a peculiar smile on her lips. Her friend didn't answer, "I understand if you don't want to?"
"I want to!" A little too quickly. She also turned her head facing her pretty friend, "OK, I'm ready." She looked and felt nervous.
Sitting up, "I'll turn off the lights and close the blinds." Lisa did, with a quickness and excitement shown by her movements, but those signs were missed by her friend.
They lay for several long minutes in the dark, before Lisa turned onto her stomach facing her best friend. They could just barely make out the shape of the other's face, but could not see any features to tell if the other was happy or not. Inching her way up the queen-sized bed, Lisa placed her face right above the other's. In the dark, her friend could not see her barely contained excitement or trembling anticipation, but could feel the warm breath upon her face. While Caroline bit her bottom lip with nervousness, questioning her motives and feelings of what she was doing.
Slowly, so as not to hit her friend, Lisa bent forward and, with beginner's luck, placed her lips upon the others. The young girl wanted this to be a perfect kiss. In fact, Lisa often fantasized about this very moment and would practice what to do with her pillow late at night.
Caroline felt the closeness of her friend before she felt the moist, soft lips touch hers. At first, neither moved. Then Lisa kissed softly and slowly, her mouth opening gently and a tongue softly sliding into her friend's mouth. It was an expert kiss made perfectly by young women who knew how she liked to be kissed. Even Caroline forgot her nervousness and massaged her friend's tongue with her own, and soon even sliding it into the mouth of her best friend, tasting and testing everywhere. Lisa's head turned perpendicular to Caroline's, the perfect angle for locking lips.
Lisa was in heaven, this was better than her fantasies, she felt an electricity right down to her toes. While Caroline forgot everything and her attention was completely focused on her lips.
They broke apart, neither knowing who did it. Lisa flopped back down onto her side of the bed catching her breath.
It was Caroline who spoke first, "That wasn't so bad?!" Her voice was uneven, nervous, excited.
"No, it wasn't." Lisa couldn't control her voice properly either.
After a few more awkward moments before Caroline spoke up, "Good night Lisa." She turned away, her back towards her friend.
Lisa didn't reply, she didn't want to go to sleep! In fact, her body was trembling with desire. Since they had first met, Lisa had been attracted to Caroline. The attraction grew into something more, until the teen often thought about her friend when she fantasized. Both had boyfriends, and both were still virgins, they told each other everything. But the way Lisa felt was the only thing she had kept from her friend. When Caroline first agreed to the kiss, Lisa knew she was in love, that she would be the happiest girl alive if only her friend reciprocated. The kiss had been originally Lisa's idea.
For over half an hour, Caroline could not sleep, but lay in a frightful stupor. The question that kept running through her head was, "Am I a lesbian?" If it was just the kiss she could be able to answer that question, but the most frightening thing for the young girl was that she had enjoyed it. Tears almost came to her eyes when she realized that she was sexually excited, her vagina was extremely wet and was even dampening her panties and inner thighs. That scared her more than anything else, and would give anything to stop the thoughts and feelings running through her head. Never once did she wonder about her best friend's motives, but did wonder if Lisa was feeling in the same way.
Minutes dragged into a full hour, neither spoke, nor did they sleep. Caroline's body began to tremble, it felt like it was electrified with cold electricity. Lisa only stared at the dark form before her imagining with hot desire, fantasies that she wanted to come true.
Though the two teens would never forget what they felt, they would surely fall asleep eventually. The tall, blond, blue-eyed teenager may perhaps become a lesbian, or just liberal-minded about her sexuality. This encounter only enforcing her suspicions that she was more attracted to girls than to guys. While Caroline, a short, black-haired, petite girl would try to forget the one step towards an open sexual relationship with another woman. She would probably marry, have kids and be happy. But late at night when she couldn't sleep, her mind would wander back to her best friend Lisa and the kiss they shared.
But the night wasn't over!
The temptations that had pressured Lisa into conning her friend to kiss her were also moving her towards something more. Caroline felt the hand lay upon the top of her raised hip and shivered. At first, she thought it was the stray hand of a sleeping partner. She was wrong!
Lisa may not be able to see the best friend in the darkness, but could easily conjure a picture in her mind. When she lay her hand upon the other, she could "see" it as if it was bright as day. So in her imagination, she could see the attractive curve of the small body, specifically the hourglass figure created by the tiny waist. Her hand rubbed upon the cloth-covered skin to the small of Caroline's back and then up to the neck and head. She rubbed and massaged back and forth, feeling every curve and texture of the muscular back.
Caroline barely breathed for the five minutes that this was happening. Her body stopped trembling, but sexually, she was getting more excited than she had even thought possible.She enjoyed the gentle touch of the other girl, her body wanting more. When Lisa pulled her hand away, Caroline almost moaned in despair. She turned onto her back, her head facing her friend yet again.
The tiny girl wanted to taste her friend's lips again and was disappointed when the hand returned. It rubbed along her neck then downward to her small, pointy breasts. No one had ever touched her there before. The hand cupped and molded the soft bosom gently, bringing a wave of delight to the tiny girl. This time, Caroline didn't try to conceal the moan she let out or the trembling that began again. The hand left her breast too quickly to rub down her stomach. Lisa's rapid breathing was loud, but her friend could not hear it because of her own.
Then the hand lay over the damp mound of Caroline's sex!
Caroline groaned loudly and spread her legs to accommodate her friend's hand, which was pressing down. The palm agitated the already enlarged clitoris, bringing a wave of electrified passion through the little dark body. Lisa could feel the heat and moisture that coated her hand. For the first time, what she was attempting to do scared her young, virginal mind, and she pulled away from her friend.
They just lay there frozen, Caroline excited and hungry, while Lisa confused and unsure. This time, it was the hyper-excited Caroline that took the initiative. She rolled over against Lisa, placed one leg over and between the longer ones of her friend, one hand on the large breast of the blonde, and her lips pressed forward.
That first intimate touch by Caroline wiped away any cobwebs in Lisa's mind, and her body reminded her how excited it was. She could feel the heat of the crotch against her bare leg and the moisture covering her skin. Her nipples pointed into the small palm, the breast too big for the tiny hand. The lips hungrily kissed her, the tongue forcing itself into her mouth. The small girl was truly in an excited state, her body taking over from her mind. Lisa had control of herself, but still wanted the same end. The tall girl began to press her pelvis upwards into her friend's thigh and began to return the kiss. Lisa moved her hand down to cup Caroline's right buttock, making her hips move in time with her own.
Caroline tried to stop herself, but couldn't. It was as if she was watching herself do these things from afar. Her body responded to the maneuver of her best friend, and they began to rhythmically press their crotches against the other's thigh. Both were very close to an explosion, which Caroline had never felt nor knew much about. Yet she desired!
It was Lisa who wanted to feel her friend's bare skin, desiring the touch of her naked crotch against her own sensitive thigh. She began to moan into the open mouth of Caroline's, her tongue spearing around Lisa's.
They were like two animals mating in the dirt, striving for an orgasm, using their partner to achieve it. One of the rutting beasts was beyond her senses, while the other was totally in control of herself. Yet both would look exactly the same if viewed from a third person, if anything the small animal on top looked like she was in control. Only thing in control of her was her sexual hunger!
Caroline achieved an orgasm first. The spark of the explosion started slowly, then quickly spread outwards to every inch of her body. It took control of her muscles and her mind. Like a thunderbolt shooting through her, starting at her aching vagina. Caroline bit into the soft neck of her friend to stop herself from shouting out, instead she only groaned loudly. She couldn't tell how long it lasted, but when it was over, she lay over her inert friend, exhausted and spent. It was her first orgasm with another person, and it was the most delicious thing she had ever felt!
Lisa felt her friend clench above her just before she started to spasm, every muscle moving independently. The realization that Caroline was spending put Lisa over the top. Her own orgasm was much less explosive but about as satisfying. Many times had the tall blonde masturbated to the fantasy of making love with Lisa; every orgasm she ever had was with the image of her best friend on her mind. She held the small dark girl tightly until they both stopped jerking with spasms. Lisa bent forward and tenderly kissed Caroline's forehead.
Both girls had quivering muscles and sweaty bodies. In fact, both of their tops were clinging to their now sweaty bodies, sticking them effectively together. While their bottoms were sticky for another reason!
This time, the girls fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms! | 4 |
6,810 | My Mom's a Babe | "NOT A WORD, JUST GO TO YOUR ROOM AND PACK!"
Mom was in a foul mood. Mom and Dad had been planning this holiday for ages, and the day we were due to go, bang! Dad's office called - an important client wanted some work done like yesterday, and they wanted Dad. I guess it was kind of flattering they chose him, and it made his promotion all the more certain, but was Mom interested? No! Dad just managed to get out of the house in one piece, leaving me to face the music. I didn't want to go to the coast; I'd have rather stayed at home with the guys from school and surfed the net. I was about to say so too, when I saw that look on Mom's face. You know the one, the one that says, "Just you dare step out of line, mister!"
"Yes, Mom!" I ran to my room and packed everything I needed in about 10 minutes flat.
The drive was long and boring. I sat staring out of the window and wondered if I could survive two weeks away from my PC. It was late evening when we arrived, the sun was just going down; a few people walked the beach. It was that in-between time when people were busy preparing for the night ahead after an exhausting day relaxing on the beach. Mom had calmed down by now and was beginning to regret what she had called Dad. She knew it wasn't his fault, and he was as disappointed as she was. Why did this always have to happen?
As we were on holiday, Mom let me have a few beers while we watched TV. We were both surprisingly tired. I fell asleep on the couch, well, that's where I was when I woke up the next morning. The sun poured in through the wide beach house windows, and the delicious smell of eggs and bacon wafted from the kitchen. I swung my legs off the couch and stood up. SHIT! The whole room jumped 3 feet to the left; I sat back down again as my head began to spin. Mom walked in with a beaming smile.
"Well, mister, I thought you could handle your drink?"
"Get a doctor, Mom! I think I'm dying!"
Mom handed me a glass full of white fizzy water. "Ugh!" it was awful.
"You'll survive, have some breakfast, you'll feel a lot better."
After wolfing my breakfast down and drinking several mugs of black coffee, well, that's what they do in the movies, my head felt lots better, my stomach felt worse. Eventually, my body decided I was too young to die just yet, and I felt okay by about lunchtime. I decided to see what the outside world looked like; I went out onto the front porch. My jaw hit the floor, my eyes bulged out so much they hurt - wall-to-wall female flesh, everywhere!
"So you found the door at last!"
I turned to face Mom, "O man." Mom was walking towards me, almost wearing a white bikini. Two tiny white triangles covered her nipples, leaving nearly all of her large white breasts uncovered. My eyes moved down her body; her bottom half was equally exposed. A thin strip of material covered her pussy, held in place by thin ties on each side. Mom was about as naked as you could get with your clothes on.
"Don't be such a prude, Terry!"
I closed my mouth and smiled.
"Wow! Mom, I bet you're the best-looking woman on the beach."
"Why, thank you; this was supposed to be a surprise for your father. I guess he'll just have to wait until next year now."
"Oh! Mom, you're a real babe. I bet all the guys on the beach will go blind looking at you."
Mom smiled at me.
"Well, they're out of luck - you can tell them from me, this babe is private property, the property of the Carlson family."
"You bet, Mom!"
As Mom walked indoors, I just couldn't help looking at her ass, the bikini disappeared between her firm cheeks. Oh, fuck, was I hard. Mom reappeared 5 minutes later with a tube of sun cream, her tits jiggled as she rubbed the cream into her skin. She slid her hands over her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze as she smoothed in the thick white sun block. I limped to my room, trying to hide my hard-on, and jerked off over a mental picture of my mother!I was disappointed that I couldn't see much of her pussy, as mom's hand was in the way.
"Ooooooooh!"
Mom's chest was thrust out, as her breathing became heavier, her hand worked on her pussy faster and harder.
"Nnnnnnnnghgh!"
Mom's whole body went stiff, then seemed to judder as she came. Silently, I crept back to my room, wondering what new opportunities tomorrow would bring.
The following day, mom asked if I was going out anywhere. I told her I was going to wander into town and would probably be gone for 3 to 4 hours. This was a lie, as it was just so obvious that mom didn't want me around. We said our goodbyes, and I walked until I was out of sight of the house, then turned around and crept back in. I watched as mom hung some towels along the front of the porch, making sure that no one on the beach could see her. She sat on her beach towel and took off the top of her bikini, quickly followed by the bottoms. She smoothed the sun cream over her body, paying special attention to her nipples and pussy. Mom lay on her back, legs open wide, fingering herself. By now, my prick was as hard as iron. I went to my room and loaded my auto-focus pocket camera. On the fourth attempt, I managed to get the film in, and I crept downstairs. Mom had finished playing with herself, and disappointed, I had to think of what to do. Mom had dozed off; her slow, rhythmic breathing caused her still-excited breasts to move up and down. I walked out onto the porch and took the first of 36 pictures. How I was going to get them developed was something I would have to figure out later.
I let mom doze for an hour; I changed into my trunks, re-loaded my camera, and walked onto the porch.
"Hi, mom!" Mom looked up at me, still half-asleep.
"Wow! You look really great!" I raised the camera and fired off 3 shots.
"Nooooooo!" Mom suddenly remembered she was naked, as she sat up and tried to cover herself, I fired off several more pictures.
"W, What are you doing here?"
"The town's dead, so I came back early."
Mom had her right hand over her pussy and her left hand covered her right breast. Her left breast bulged over her arm, fully exposed. I fired off some more shots. Mom was flustered; she didn't know what to do.
"Stop that! NOW!"
"What's wrong, mom? You look beautiful."
"That's not the point!"
"Who's the prude now! Anyway, these will show dad what he's missed."
Mom thought for a moment, then smiled, "He'll be really pissed, won't he?"
"Sure! And I bet he doesn't miss another holiday, that's what you want, isn't it?"
Mom grinned, "Okay, mister; how do you want me?"
This was amazing; it has got to be a dream! I got mom to kneel with her knees about a foot apart and cupping her breasts with her hands. I slowly made the poses more daring, holding just her nipples, she pulled her heavy breasts upwards. She knelt on all fours, pulling her ass cheeks apart, displaying her tight asshole. Legs spread as wide as she could get them, mom held her pussy open. I moved closer as she tweaked her clit. Mom's moans became louder as she pushed her fingers deeper into her wet pussy. I let mom get on with the show as I took more pictures.
"O Terry! I'm cumming, your mom's cumming!"
"Unnnnnghgh!"
Mom's whole body shook, then went limp; she lay there, fingers still inside herself, smiling at me. I took the two last pictures on the roll.
"If you're going to lay in the sun, I'd better put some cream on you!"
"You do whatever you want, Terry."
I stood over mom and pulled my trunks to one side, releasing my hard cock. Mom's eyes widened; she was about to stop me.
"It's only fair, mom! I watched you, you should get to watch me!"
She relaxed as I started pumping my prick with my hand. She watched every movement, and mom licked her lips in anticipation. As I wanked, I knelt down, now straddled over mom's belly. My right hand pumped harder, and my left reached out and began teasing mom's right nipple. She made a small cooing sound but made no move to stop me.
"Here it comes, mom, here it is!"
My first jet of cum landed on mom's tits. I managed to move forwards slightly. The second and third squirts hit her face, at least half going into her open mouth. She licked her lips and swallowed. I reached down and pushed all the cum still on mom's face into her mouth. She sucked my finger as it slid between her lips, then using both hands, I massaged the white, sticky blobs of cum that were on her tits into her skin until it had all been absorbed by her body.
"O boy! That was really great, mom!"
"Glad to have been of service, sir!" she said sarcastically. "Now how about a proper rub down before I burn out here!"
I picked up a bottle of sun oil; mom had used up all the cream. I poured some onto her belly and began rubbing it in. With slow, deliberate motions, I covered her body with a layer of shimmering oil. Saving the best for last, I had only mom's tits and pussy to do. Mom gasped as I poured the cool oil over each of her nipples. As I massaged her breasts, her nipples returned to their previous state of excitement. I loved it as they puffed up; her whole areola formed a perfect brown dome that stood an inch high, tipped with mom's erect teats. Mom opened her legs; I poured oil directly onto her pussy. Mom groaned and wiggled her hips. I slowly massaged her lips, my fingers brushing against her clit as they found mom's hole. My fingers slid into mom's pussy with ease, lubricated by sun oil and pussy juice. Her pussy was ready and willing.
"Not just yet, baby! Do your mommy's back first."
Mom rolled over, and I started again. By now, my prick was hard and ready for action, but I didn't mind. I was sure I was going to fuck mom, and I knew that she was worth the wait. Her ass looked at me, inviting me to touch it. The oil ran over her cheeks as I poured it on. I placed the bottle between her cheeks and watched mom wriggle as the oil ran between, over her asshole, and onto her already wet pussy. As I rubbed her ass, I let my hand slide between her ass cheeks and started to massage her anus; I felt it open slightly and grip the tip of my finger. Mom raised her ass, and I pushed; mom groaned as my finger went inside her. As I finger-fucked mom's ass, I pushed in two fingers. Mom began frigging herself. It wasn't long before mom climaxed, as her body jerked, her ass seemed to suck my fingers as deep as they could go.
"O Terry, you've been real good to your mom today, let me rest now, okay, baby?"
Mom must have seen the look of pure lust written all over my face turn to frustration and disappointment.
"Don't worry, baby! Mommy will give you a real treat tonight!"
I winked at her and went inside to jack off yet again.
It was mid-evening, and I was getting the idea that this treat was never going to arrive. Mom had gone upstairs about 10 minutes ago, and I waited. Eventually, mom re-appeared. She had her bathrobe on, a towel over her arm, and a bottle in her hand.
"Time for your treat." Mom spread the towel on the floor. "Come on, get your clothes off; I'm going to give you a massage."
I took off my clothes, not really knowing what to expect. Mom made me lie face down; she stood behind me, so I couldn't see what she was doing. The next thing I know, Mom's straddled my back and is rubbing some sort of oil into my shoulders. As I enjoyed the soothing massage, it struck me that I couldn't feel any of mom's clothing against my skin, and my back felt slightly wet just where her pussy was. My prick jumped to attention; mom was naked. Oh boy, this was going to be good.
Mom worked her way around my body; she was massaging my butt when I felt more oil running down my butt crack and over my balls.
"Oh mom, Oh mom!"
I jerked as her fingernails brushed against my balls and started to tickle me between my balls and anus. Oh man, that was good. Mom's finger slid between the cheeks of my butt. No, she wouldn't; her finger forced its way into my well-oiled anus. It hurt a bit, but wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I felt mom kissing the cheeks of my butt as she pushed two fingers into my virgin ass.
Mom's voice was deep and sexy, "Turn over, you little shit."
I lay on my back, looking up at mom's tits. Did they look big from down here! She poured oil all over her tits and used them to massage my chest; I was in heaven. Mom worked her way down my body, soon my hard prick was being smothered in breast flesh, and every now and then one of mom's hard nipples would rub against the head of my cock.
"Oh mom! I can't take any more! Ooooooooo!"
I was getting near to cumming, and mom knew it. She started wanking my prick.
"Come on, Terry, cum for mommy, cum for mommy."
My prick started to throb; my balls were ready to release their load. Oh god; mom's warm mouth closed around the head of my prick. I came straight into her mouth, mom sucked as I came, she wanted every drop and she got it. As my cock started to soften, I watched mom lick it clean.
"That was the best, mom! What a babe."
"I'm not finished with you yet."
Mom sucked my prick, making it hard in double-quick time. What a turn-on. She moved around into a sixty-nine, her juicy pussy was just inches from my face. I opened her pussy lips and looked at the little fleshy button that was her clit; her hole was moist and pink. Without really thinking, I thrust my tongue into her, I just wanted to taste her juices, I heard a muffled groan. I licked her clit, and then I sucked it into my mouth and massaged it with my tongue. Mom's sucking went up a notch. Her juices began to flow into my mouth.
"You taste so good, mom, you taste real good!"
Without warning, mom rolled off me and straddled my legs, her tits looked enormous, her nipples rock hard. She positioned my cock at the entrance to her pussy.
"Is this what you want, Terry?"
"Yes!"
"Are you sure? There's no going back!"
"I wanna fuck your juicy cunt, mom!"I couldn't believe what I had just said; mom's pussy gripped the head of my cock, I watched as her soft, sexy pussy slowly ate my shaft. I grabbed a tit in each hand and squeezed them hard as mom bounced up and down; I matched mom's rhythm and thrust up as she came down. We rolled over so I was now on top, with mom's legs over my shoulders, I fucked her well and hard.
"Nnnnnnghgh! Fuck me, Terry, fuck your mom!"
Mom was moaning like it was going out of fashion, my prick plunged in and out of her cunt, covered in her juices.
"I'm gonna cum! Mommy's gonna cum, baby!"
Mom's pussy gripped my prick as she came, my balls shot their load right on cue, I felt so good filling my own mom with a belly full of cum. We lay next to each other exhausted, mom leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, we kissed for about five minutes, exploring each other's mouth with our tongues.
"Oh, baby! That was good."
"I love you, mom."
We both cleaned up and went to bed. A dream had come true; I couldn't wait for tomorrow.
The next morning, mom was sitting on the couch wearing just a white blouse knotted around her waist and her bikini bottoms. She was reading one of the naturist magazines I had left out.
"Hi, mom."
She looked up as I walked towards her.
"Terry; I think we should talk."
I kissed her, pushing my tongue into her mouth, mom didn't pull away.
"I don't think this is right!" she gasped as I pulled away.
I sat beside her and slid my hand inside her blouse, I felt her nipple respond as I rolled it between my fingers.
"Of course it's right, mom, we've never been closer; and I really enjoy giving you pleasure and making you cum. You do enjoy cumming, don't you?"
"Mmmmm! Of course I do. Ooooooooo! It's just that you're my son and. Nnnnnnnngh! Fuck me! Oh, Terry, I want to feel you cum inside me!"
Who was I to disobey my loving mom? Her clothes fell to the floor as I sucked greedily on her nipples. Both now naked, I told mom I wanted her doggie style, she got onto all fours and wiggled her ass at me.
"Please fuck me! Please!"
Without any thought of foreplay or discomfort to mom, I grabbed her hips and thrust forward.
"Aaaaaaaaghnn!"
I drove my prick right into her pussy as far as it would go. At that moment in time, she was just a cunt begging to be fucked, and I fucked her. Harder she panted as I pounded my prick into her. Gradually her juices made her pussy nice and slick. I smeared her asshole with her juice and pushed my thumb into her ass.
"Nnnnnnnnnngh! That's it, baby, fuck me like a slut! Oooooooooo!"
I pulled my prick out of her pussy and placed it on her lubricated anus.
"No, Terry! Not there! Please! Nooooooo!"
I pushed hard, mom resisted at first, but I managed to get the head of my cock in her ass. She tried to crawl away; I kept hold of her hips and lunged forwards.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaghggh!"
My prick forced its whole length into her bowels; I fucked her ass just as hard as I fucked her pussy. As mom became used to the sensation of a prick fucking her ass, she started to enjoy the wanton feeling it gave her.
"Oh, Terry, treat me like a whore! Nnnnnnnnngh!"
Mom was near to cumming, so was I.
"Oh, baby! Let me be your cunt, Ooooooooo! I'll do anything, just keep fucking me!"
My prick bulged inside her as my hot cum hit the insides of her belly, mom couldn't hold back any longer.
"Mmmmmmmgh! Nnnnnnnghgh!"
We collapsed in a heap on the floor, cum dripped out of her ass onto the carpet.
"Lick it clean, mom!"
Mom licked my prick clean, running her tongue all around its head, sucking my balls. I was in charge now; this is where the holiday fun really begins... | 5 |
6,849 | Showtime - Catch a Falling Star | "You look sensational, Bridget." He gleamed. "Why thank you, Steve." She beamed. "But I bet you say that to all the girls." Steve smiled, "You're running with a high class crowd, but you are unique." He lifted her chin and kissed her tenderly, her response was warm and firm. "Boy does that ever sound familiar." They both looked up to see Jennifer and Sarah leaning over the railing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a pair of smaller than would be wise towels, from down here he could see both of their muffs quite clearly. Their wet hair wrapped up in a set of seemingly bigger towels. Sarah turned to Jennifer in a mocking tone, "You're so special my dear." Jennifer replied in like, "You're my only love." They gestured and laughed. Steve and Bridget smiled at them, "I'm almost old enough to be your Father, and I can come up there and paddle both of your butts." The girls descended the stairs, "You wish." Sarah challenged. "You had your chance." Jennifer followed. Steve stared at them, trying not to think how seductive they looked in those towels, while he was in Bridget's arms. "You young kids today." He said shaking his head. They ignored him and each gave Bridget a kiss hello. She released Steve and looked around the room. "Looks like you girls did okay today." Jennifer smiled, "Ya we got some really cool stuff." She held up a cute little red dress, for Bridget to see. "Very nice taste." Steve's tongue almost touched the floor when he envisioned how she would look in the outfit. "We'll see you guys at 9PM sharp, here's the directions to my Dad's place, and the phone number." Sarah took the paper and nodded. "See you there." She replied. "Well you all ready Steve?" He grabbed his jacket and offered his arm. Bridget slipped her arm through his. "Mind your manners now." Sarah smiled as she kissed him like a mother. "And eat all your veggies." Jennifer said condescendingly. Steve smirked and turned to make a quick grab for their towels. But the girls being younger and faster they saw it coming, and put their arms around their waists, quickly stepping back out of reach. "Pervert!" They shouted at him. Bridget pulled Steve towards the door, muttering something about child molester. The pair got in her sky blue Cadillac. Steve asked her like a teenage kid if he could drive. She gave him the keys, "Be gentle." She smiled. "Aren't I always?" Steve replied. Bridget rolled her blue eyes and shook her head. The car was a dream to drive, but then again weren't they all. As they drove through L.A. and followed the highway through the San Fernando Valley, Bridget chatted about her famous family. Telling Steve about their past and present relations. Aunt Jane was coming to dinner and Winona's parents too. She told him who was coming to the reception later. It sounded like an Oscar alumni reunion, except it was Uncle Jack and Uncle Dennis, instead of Mr. Nicholson and Mr. Hopper. Steve smiled, "And me without my autograph book." Bridget looked at him daringly, "Don't be so tacky." She gazed fondly at the man she was to introduce to her family, and friends, a man she barely knew but had come to love and trust so quickly. What was it about this virtual stranger that so captured her admiration, and a desire to be close to. Could it be his confidence, charm, sensitivity, or maybe it was his sexual prowess. "Wait a minute, what if he's bisexual?" She thought to herself. "No he couldn't be, Oh God that's why he seems so perfect." Then again she and the other girls were bisexual, but that was different she reasoned. Steve caught her staring at him, "Penny for your thoughts?" She smiled generously, "Oh nothing." He glanced over at her, "You're a good actress Bridget, but not that good." She looked out the window trying to seem nonchalant, "Mind if I ask you a personal question?" He looked over and grinned, "Sure go ahead." She looked back at him her piercing blue eyes full of worry, Now please don't be mad at me for asking but, are you...." Steve glanced over at her "Great he thought one of those questions." He listened for the safe to drop. "Bisexual?" It took a second for the question to actually make it to his brain. He glanced at her a couple of times, realizing that either answer might be appropriate. He decided on the truth in a diplomatic manner. "Well I've never done it with a man before, if that's what you're asking." Bridget took that as a no, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. "What made you ask that?" He smiled. "Just curious, I mean you are quite sexually active, yet you're also quite reserved and very sensitive towards others." Steve grinned, "Let's just say before I met you ladies I was almost a priest, and as for being sensitive, it only applies to those I care about." She smiled warmly, since I'm taking you to meet my family, "Is there, anything about you I should know?" She queried. "You mean do I have any strange habits, history of mental illness, weird beliefs?" She nodded, "Don't make it sound so bad." A sly look came over his face, "Well I believe in U.F.O.s, I like to clip my toe nails at the dinner table, oh and I think Elvis is still alive." Bridget frowned, "Cute, really cute." Steve shook his head "Bisexual, really. Wait until I get you alone, or maybe I'll just take you on the table during the appetizer, that should make the dinner conversation more interesting huh?" She made a face at him, "Now you're just being crude." Steve glanced over "Sorry, I guess you can't just pick up a tabloid, and read about my life history, or surf the net, and find a fan page on me huh. I promise I'll tell you more about me when I get a chance." He looked over at her soft form as the sun light bounced off her golden hair, her sea blue eyes stared at the rows of orange trees as they went by. "Bridget?" She turned her face slightly as if caught in the middle of a daydream. "Huh?" Steve continued, "Will you be going back to your house in New York any time soon?" She shook her head. "Not till maybe next March." "I've been thinking, I really don't need to be back in New York until Monday, maybe I could take the next two days off and take kind of a long weekend." Bridget shrugged her shoulders not wanting to appear to eager. "Do you have any idea as to what your plans are?" She said casually. He shrugged, "I don't know, I thought maybe we could..." Bridget wondered "Well I don't know, I have an interview and photo shoot tomorrow with a magazine. I was going to spend the weekend with my Dad in Cancun. Ever gone horseback riding?" Steve shook his head. " My Dad has a 300 acre ranch in Colorado. It's wonderful up there this time of the year, and I have a mare named Carmel, interested?" Steve thought for a second,"Well if your dad doesn't mind it sound great." Bridget let out something between a squeal and a purr as she undid her seat belt and slid across the seat to give him a big hug. "Now Bridget mind the State Transport safety regulations." He lectured. "I'm sure my Dad will let me take you to the ranch." She said, like a sixteen-year-old, who was hoping to get her Father's permission to borrow the car. "We're almost there, turn up this next right," Steve pulled off onto what looked like a dirt road that went on for a mile. "How big is this place?" He asked. "Only two hundred acres or so, we grow oranges here, and keep a small stable of horses. I usually bring Carmel down here for the winter. There's the driveway." She pointed out. Steve pulled up to a stone gateway with an old style wrought iron gate.There was a camera atop one of the posts, and a small control box with a key card slot and speaker. Bridget leaned across Steve as she inserted the card and entered the code. Steve wanted to slide his hand up her dress, but was mindful of the camera pointing down at them. Wouldn't want to make a bad first impression on the hosts. Instead, he used his left hand, which was under her body, to cop a cheap feel of her breast as she moved in front of him. She finished entering the code and pulled back from him. "Charming, I'm bringing home exactly the kind of guy my Dad always warned me about." Steve smiled as the gate opened and he drove through.
The driveway itself was long, over a hundred yards, ending in a parking circle big enough for twenty cars. The house was a popular Spanish-style three-story structure with the usual red-tiled roof and white adobe finish. Bridget pointed him to a parking spot. Turning off the engine, he handed her the keys, and she kissed him on the cheek. "What was that for?" Steve queried. "Luck, just relax and don't let anyone intimidate you." Steve began to worry.
They got out of the car and walked up the wide front steps. About halfway up, the door opened, and the family came out to meet them. Bridget ran forward and gave her Dad, Mom, Stepmother, Aunt Jane, and Uncle Ted big hugs. Then she turned around as Steve reached the top of the stairs. "Everybody, I'd like you to meet Mr. Steve Colt." She then introduced Steve to her family, most of whom he knew by reputation except for her mother Susan and stepmother Becky. Steve was really shocked to meet Ted Turner, owner of the biggest media corporations in the world, including Fox, Time/Warner, and CNN. He had just donated one billion dollars to the United Nations. Peter Fonda shook Steve's hand and then gave him a big hug, like one of the non-pretentious, down-to-earth characters he always played. "I can only offer my family's thanks for saving our Bridget's life and that of her friend. We're gratefully indebted to you, Mr. Colt." All Steve could think of saying was, "You're welcome, and call me Steve." Bridget's mother Susan gave him a bone-crushing hug that only a mother can give, and her stepmother and aunt were a bit more gentle. Steve could see that Jane Fonda still managed to retain a hint of her younger glamour. Ted gave him a firm, strong, manly handshake. Peter ushered them all into the house, "You're the first ones here. Winona's family should be here soon."
The inside of the house was decorated in a Western country motif. It was large and open inside, with one wall dominated by a large stone fireplace. The living room had the typical high ceiling and heavy wooden beams. A set of stairs went up on one wall to an open second floor. Opposite that, at the back of the house, were a set of large sliding doors that led out onto a huge wooden deck. The group settled into the living room, and Peter ushered Steve over to the bar, "Care for an apéritif?" Steve gave a slight nod, "Scotch on the rocks, please." Peter held up a bottle of 50-year-old whisky. Steve nodded. "Ted?" Mr. Turner looked up from his conversation with Bridget and Susan, "Ya, thanks." Mrs. Fonda and Jane went into the kitchen, and Steve could hear them rattling pots and pans. Peter poured the drinks, handing one to Steve and one to Ted, who came over and got it. Steve noted that Peter had a club soda. Just then, the phone rang. Peter excused himself, "That reminds me, I do have an important call to make before dinner, if you'll pardon me, Steve." Steve smiled, "Of course."
Bridget popped up off the couch, "Would you like a tour of the house?" He nodded, "Sure, this is a great place." She looked over her shoulder at her mom, "Wanna come with us?" Susan shook her head, "I'll wait here for our other guests, but you two go ahead." She took Steve by the arm and dragged him down the hall. The place was huge, with seven bedrooms, four baths, a large rec room, two kitchens, a screening room, and a den. The last room Bridget took him to looked like that of a teenage girl, with a white four-poster bed complete with canopy and matching dresser drawers. It was painted pink with pictures of horses on the wall. "This was my room when I came to visit Dad, after they got divorced. You know you're the only guy I've ever been able to get up here." Bridget giggled. Steve smiled and pushed her towards the bed, but she pressed her hands against his chest. "NO, Don't even think about it. My parents are right downstairs, Steve!"
His arms enfolded her buttocks, picking her up off the floor. Bridget moved her hands up his chest and around his neck. Her dress rode up high on her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist. They closed their eyes and moved their lips closer, "Oh God, I can't believe I'm doing this..." She whispered. He walked over to the bed, pulling down the short zipper at the back of her dress. Bridget got down from him and slipped the straps from her shoulders in a provocative manner. The dress slid down her pale form and gathered in a bunch around her ankles. She stepped out of the material and turned her back to him. Stretching her hands up, she grabbed the top of the bedpost where it joined the canopy. Steve kneeled behind her, pulling aside the crotch of her purple satin bikini panties. His tongue made her shudder with expectancy, and it only took a few laps to ease her passion. He got up and unbuckled his pants, woody ready as always, raring to go. Reaching around the front, he rubbed her stomach with one hand and opened her panties with the other. Leaning forward, he pressed the dome of his cock against her vulva. Still clutching the bedpost, she arched her back and impaled herself on the tip of his dick. "Ohh yaaa!" Bridget quietly moaned. Steve pleasured her with the rest of his prick as it slipped into her warm, inviting vagina, like a shell into a breech. Knowing they had but a few minutes, they rutted silently like a pair of dogs. His fingers played her clit and nipples like piano keys. Steve stroked Bridget long, hard, and fast. Their hearts beating faster, Bridget's cunt snapped down on his cock with a vice-like grip. "Ohhhhhh ...fuck Steve II'mmm....cuummmiing." He shot his load into her womb, which took it like a warm drink. "BRIDGET!!!" Her mother's voice stopped them cold, like a Lada hitting a cement wall at 100 mph.
She called from downstairs. "CUUUUMMMING MOTHEEEER!" Bridget screamed back over his shoulder, out of breath. They quickly cleaned up with some Kleenex and got dressed. She gave him a quick kiss and smoothed her dress. The two tromped downstairs to see Winona and her parents standing in the front hall. The two families had met before on several occasions, mostly at the Oscars or other awards ceremonies, this was their first private get-together. Bridget could feel a bit of his semen trickle down her left thigh as she walked over to meet them.
Winona was dressed in a stunning form-hugging black dress that ended just above the knees. The outfit was sleeveless, with straps that tied around the back of the neck, leaving it backless. The front was modest with a high neckline. Bridget greeted her lover and her parents with a polite kiss. Steve followed her like a shy child. Winona stepped up to him, giving him a social peck on the cheek. "Very nice to meet you again, Mr. Colt. I'd like you to meet my parents, Cindy and Michael Horowitz. Mom and dad, Mr. Steven Colt." Steve almost collapsed under the force of Winona's mother's hug, and her father must have shaken his hand for a full thirty seconds. They were even more down-to-earth than Peter Fonda; they looked like aged hippies. Then Susan came out of the kitchen and announced that dinner was ready, so Peter and Becky ushered everyone into the dining room. The girls followed behind everyone else, "You'd better get that just-fucked look off your face before your mom sees it." Winona whispered. Bridget struggled to hide the smile. "And while you're at it, you might want to do something about the snail trail down your leg." Bridget stopped and looked down at her legs. "Gotcha." Her friend smirked.
The room was large and well-lit by the natural light coming through the large tinted windows along one wall. Steve was seated at the head of the table, with the girls on either side. Next to Winona sat her mother, father, and Becky. Next to Bridget sat her mother Susan, Uncle Ted, and Aunt Jane. Peter took his seat at the other end of the table. As the group sat, Peter asked Winona's father to give the blessing. Saying a short Jewish prayer, he thanked God for the food as well as the timely intervention of Steve into their daughter's lives.
Dinner was already on the table, and everyone was told to dig in. The menu had been carefully prepared not to offend the Horowitz's sensitivity, but since they weren't orthodox Jews, it wasn't a real problem. The dinner conversation began with Steve telling them about himself and his family. Mr. Turner was really interested in Steve's career with Jane's Magazine. "That magazine is the 'Vogue' of the military community. Tried to buy it once, couldn't get enough shares for a hostile takeover." Everybody laughed like the boss had just told a joke. Before the discussion got too deep into his military career, Steve managed to direct the conversation to safer ground. By engaging the families in questions about themselves, being careful to avoid interview-type questions like "How did she get started in acting?" Steve was right about Winona's parents; they were into the Hippie scene long before it was a scene. Her father was strangely enough a librarian, and her mother was some kind of a scholar of Buddhism, Hinduism, anything that was spiritual and exotic. (I said exotic, not erotic. Get your minds out of the gutter.)
Eventually, the table talk came around to the "accident." They had heard the girls' version of what happened that fateful day.But they eagerly wanted to know Steve's side of the story. By this time they had just finished dessert of Baked Alaska, which Bridget had made herself. "All that talent and she can cook too." Steve grinned innocently. Bridget blushed under the double-edged compliment. It took most of Winona's acting ability not to start giggling, "And how about you Winona, are you any good in the kitchen?" Steve turned to ask, smiling. "Oh, I can manage pretty well, thank you." She smiled back casually as her shoe connected with his shin. Steve didn't even flinch.
"Winona is a great cook, Steve," her mother interjected, "She does a wonderful thing with zucchini."
"I'd like to try that sometime," he said with interest.
"Mother!" Winona whined. Steve smiled politely, "I'd like to try it sometime." Winona smiled back at him and gave him another kick under the table.
Steve sipped at his coffee, while giving his account of the tale, easily downplaying any heroics, simply because there were none. Also, he didn't want to upset the girls by dredging up bad memories, especially Bridget. The only amazing part of the story to him is that he was there at all. "Nevertheless, we're all thankful you chose the road less taken." Peter Fonda raised his cup and made a toast to Steve.
"Listen, after dinner we have a small reception planned, nothing big, only about seventy people, all very dear friends we'd like you to meet. Hope you don't mind," Peter asked.
"Not at all. Bridget already told me about it. I'm flattered," Steve countered.
"If we're done here, let's all adjourn to the veranda," Becky suggested.
Out of habit, Steve got up and carried his plate into the kitchen before anyone could say anything. Bridget and Winona smiled and followed suit. They could hear their parents behind them gossiping. Steve looked around the immense main kitchen for the dishwasher. Hearing the fall of approaching footsteps, he turned to see the girls. "Okay, I give up, where do these go?" Bridget nodded, "Sinks over there." It took ten steps to get to the sink. "Your families seem to be a nice bunch," Steve said, rinsing off the dishes in the sink. "We're glad you approve, Mr. Colt," Winona said quietly, mindful of the echo that kitchens carried. "They like you too, should have seen the looks on their faces when you left the room," Bridget whispered.
Just then, the ladies headed by Susan came into the kitchen, "Oh, Bridget, you shouldn't let Steve be doing that!" Steve could remember hearing other mothers say that before, but not quite in the same context. Bridget looked over at her mom, "He insisted," she replied weakly, taking a glass and putting it in the machine. Steve turned around, "It's all right, ma'am. Something about doing dishes helps me relax." Becky smiled, "Nevertheless, you're the guest. Why don't you girls take Steve outside, and we'll be along in a few minutes." The girls led Steve out to the back of the house, where they found Ted and Michael discussing Asian economics out on the deck. The two men looked over and waved. "Where's my Dad?" Bridget asked curiously. "Upstairs," Uncle Ted motioned. She turned to her friends to excuse herself and returned inside.
The deck, which was on the lower level, was about thirty yards long, the same length of the house, and ten yards wide, with a short set of wide steps in the middle leading to the garden. The garden had a winding stone path which looped around the two large stone fountains and numerous plants, trees, and flowerbeds. It went back fifty yards from the edge of the deck, ending where the orange orchard began, with its rows of orange trees as far as could be seen. The sun was just about to set over the mountains in the distance.
Winona and Steve sat down at a nearby table, "I never did ask how you two became friends," he pondered. She smiled, "Well, typical story, we met at an audition. I had just arrived in L.A. a month before, didn't really know anyone. She invited me over to her mom's place, and that was it." Steve scratched his chin, "Who got the role?" Winona grinned, "Drew Barrymore. But Bridget's got her Dad to get me into a couple of more auditions, and after four months, I got my first paying job. She's a really strong person, it's not easy when people expect you to be part of a legacy. In a way, she had a tougher start than I did, always being compared to her father or grandfather. It took her awhile to get over that, she just needed time. Her family gets like that, did you know that her grandmother committed suicide, and also the woman she's named after, her Dad's stepsister?" Steve shook his head, "You're not saying that Bridget is..." Winona waved her hand, "No, but sometimes she does let her feelings get the better of her." He smiled grimly, "This should be an interesting weekend." Winona blinked, "You're not going back to New York?" "Colorado, if her Dad approves," he shrugged. She smiled secretively, "Thanks, it'll do her a world of good." Steve looked at her, "I don't know how I'm going to explain this to the others." Winona put up her hand, "I'll tell them, I'm sure they'll understand." Steve grinned, "Even Conan?" She laughed, "I'm sure Alyssa will be okay with it, but if not, you'll have to face her on your own." He frowned, "Ouch, I'd rather be thrown to the lions."
Bridget appeared in the doorway, her Father right behind her. She came out, he motioned for Steve to come in. She gave him a little smile as they passed. Peter took Steve into his den, like the rest of the house, it was decorated with old West artifacts. Steve closed the door as he entered. Peter sat on the oak desk and gestured for Steve to sit in one of the padded red leather chairs. He couldn't help but notice the large oak gun cabinet in the corner. It had glass doors, he could see at least two hunting rifles with high-powered scopes, several shotguns, a couple of old Remington repeaters. "After the accident, the girls stayed with us at the ranch for a week. Bridget would wake up in the middle of the night, upset, scared." Steve looked surprised, "Is she okay now?" Peter nodded, "She's improved, but... well, Becky and I think it might be a good idea for you two to spend the weekend at our ranch in Colorado. My daughter seems to feel comfortable with you, more settled. Miss Ryder also thought it might be good for her to spend some time with her, if you could take the time." Steve stood up, "I understand, near-death experiences can be quite traumatic. I'd be delighted to spend the weekend with her." Steve could hardly believe he had said that in front of her Father. Peter stood up and they shook hands, "We'll make travel arrangements tomorrow." Steve turned to head for the door, "One last thing, Steve." Peter placed a hand on his shoulder, "Oh, oh." Steve thought. "Here's the 'if you touch my little girl, I'll have your legs broken' speech." Instead, Mr. Fonda said, "Bridget thinks this is her idea, we'd like to keep it that way." Steve smiled out of relief, "Very good."
By the time they rejoined the group, the deck was set up with food and drinks. A few of the guests had already arrived, it was 8:45 PM. The patio lights clicked on. Becky handed Steve a drink, "Is it all settled?" Steve looked at her and nodded, "Listen, we're planning to make a small presentation to you, but prior to that, we'll introduce you simply as Steve, a friend of the Horowitz's, okay?" He smiled, "I'm not much good at this pretend stuff, but I'll try."
As the guests drifted in, Steve talked with Winona's parents, this kept him out of the way, since most people would be engaged by one of the Fondas or Miss Ryder. Steve was careful to watch when one of the girls arrived. Heather came first, with Alyssa in tow. Heather was dressed in white, and Alyssa in black, very nice dresses with matching patterned jackets. They showed little cleavage and not too much leg. Jennie arrived next with Tiffany Amber Thiessen, Shannon Doherty, and Tori Spelling. They looked to die for, well, Jennie did. She was wearing a demure red skirt with a white blouse and matching waistcoat. Tori was wearing a loud yellow one-piece dress that was cut quite low in the front; Steve couldn't believe the size of her breasts, they had to be 38DD at least. Tiffany was a bit more daring in a black skirt and black sheer blouse with a nice lacy bra slip underneath. Her breasts were almost as big as Tori's. Shannon, on the other hand, was very conservative in her ocean blue pantsuit. The last of the girls to arrive were Sarah and Jennifer. Sarah looked dashing in a light cream-colored dress with small white birds; the dress was sleeveless, but a large blue patterned scarf covering her shoulders was tied in a knot at the front. Jennifer wore a deep green skirt with a dark blue blouse and jacket, looking almost grown up. Steve was a tad disappointed she wasn't wearing that little red number, but glad she had the sense not to. That would have caused a lot of whiplash, not to mention marital disruptions tonight. Not one of the girls looked his way, but he knew they had seen him. Steve saw a few famous faces in the crowd, including Jack Nicholson, who made an entrance, Glenn Close, who was elegantly attired as always, and Robert Redford, who looked so plain and short. He could see Al Pacino trading jokes with Gary Oldman. Sigourney Weaver was taller than he expected, and she was one of the few stars to come straight over to Winona's parents; Steve was surprised at the firmness of her handshake. Mary Stuart Masterson was just adorable, and he hoped he could work her into his private club. Charlie Sheen arrived with Ginger Lynne, and they must be back together. Man, did she ever look good in real life. (Not that he ever watched those kinds of movies.) Steve hated to admit it, but the former porn star could even make Heather look plain. Steve tried not to stare at her too much, if the girls caught him, it would be, "Asta la vista, baby." They'd cook his bacon real good.sauntered forward slowly, every guy in the room looking at her luscious form. It was like Marilyn Monroe herself had just walked in. Stopping in front him she held out her hand, he took it gently, "Mr. Colt, my name is Alyssa Milano." Steve tried to keep himself from being drawn into her deep hazel eyes. "I'm not an official spokesperson, or anything for Amnesty International. But on behalf of all those in need of sanctuary and protection, I would like to thank you for your wonderful compassion." It was a touching speech, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on both cheeks. Some of the women began to cry. "You're most welcome, Alyssa," he whispered.
Many in the audience thought it was just a quick stunt by Alyssa to get attention, even so, some like Mr. Spelling gave her credit for fast thinking and guts. Mr. Horowitz produced a small camera and asked if it was okay to take a picture for the family album. Steve was a bit uncomfortable, but since the Fondas went along, he didn't object. Steven Spielberg volunteered to take the picture, the women sat in the front with the men standing behind them.
The crowd broke into one last round of applause, and Mr. & Mrs. Fonda announced that there was a buffet on the deck. Many people came forward at once to shake Steve's and hug the girls. Jack Nicholson and Dennis Hopper were first in line, it took twenty minutes for Steve to work his way out of the melee. The girls all managed to get Steve alone to talk shortly after, their responses were, "Are you nuts?" from Jennifer and Sarah, to "That must have hurt." from Heather and Alyssa.
Jennie walked Steve out of the room under the pretense of telling him all about PETA. She took him to an empty bedroom. Steve closed the door behind them and locked it. "That was without a doubt the most noble, and foolish gesture, I have ever seen in my life. One million dollars is a lot of money, even to me," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You know I can't keep the money. Someone finds out I have a bank account in the Cayman Islands, there would have been a lot of questions to answer, and maybe if they got lucky or were thorough, they would have found out about all of you, and I'm not going to risk that." He leaned down and tasted her full lips. "Nevertheless, my furry friends and I are indebted to you, $250,000 is more money than PETA has had in the last two years put together. You knew I was involved with them, didn't you?" she said inquisitively.
He smiled, "It's my job, remember." She broke the bond and stepped back from him, "Well, my furry little friends want to thank you personally." Jennie cooed as she lifted her red skirt to reveal the black stockings, garter belt, and red thong panties she was wearing. "Well, like what you see?" She purred. "Woof?" He replied. Dropping the hem of her skirt, she walked out onto the balcony, it was at the side of the house. The darkness of the night enveloped them. Jennie stood looking out, her soft white hands gripping the wooden railing. Steve stood behind her as she widened her stance, he lifted up the back of her skirt. She reached back and unzipped his pants, extracting his meat, stroking it gently. Steve knelt down behind her and licked Jennie from her waist to her snatch and back again. His tongue making her shiver as it glided down the crack of her ass, kissing her vulva at each contact. A wetness seeped from between her legs, as a moan escaped her lips. She pushed his head into her sex as he ate her hors d'oeuvre. When she was wetter than a fish, Jennie turned around and sank to her knees. Steve stood up, placing his hands on the rail behind her. She looked up and gave him a glamorous smile of white perfect teeth as his cock entered her mouth. He rocked back and forth on his heels as Jennie wrapped her tongue around his dick in her usual proficient manner. After a few gentle sucks and quiet licks, Jennie stopped short before she got a mouthful. Not that she would have minded, but this time she wanted him to cum in her cunt.
Steve helped her to her feet and turned her around. Jennie raised the back of her skirt for him, exposing her white tight ass for his viewing and entertainment pleasure. She spread her feet wider as he penetrated her cunt with his manly rod. "Ohhh yaaa..you brrring out the tramp in meeee. Treat me like your private whore, and take me like a bitch.." Steve stepped in closer as Jennie took his length, he put one hand around her waist and the other on the railing beside hers. Jennie wiggled around on his cock like a hooked fish as Steve thrust her slow and hard. Their lips kissed in a search for lust. She let out little gasps each time her pussy settled at the base of his cock, flexing her trimmed long legs as she was fucked from behind like a whore in an alley. Her vaginal cavity rippling with pulses of sensation. As she felt her lover drive her cunt walls apart again, and again. Only to have her tightly wound pussy press the foreign object back.
Steve grunted as his thrusts became faster and higher. Poor Jennie was being lifted to her toes, even in the two-inch heels that she wore. Fortunately, the fear of being discovered at any moment heightened her emotional erotic sensitivity, her pelvis heaved violently as her orgasm erupted, when Steve set off her G-spot, almost bucking her off the balcony. Good thing they had a tight grip on that railing. "Here's another donation for you to take to the bank, Miss Garth." Steve's cock emptied the last of its reserves into Jennie's open womb, spreading warmth throughout her entire body. She collapsed into his arms, pivoting on his still ridged penis, while he nipped at her neck. Feeling himself soften within her, Steve withdrew his spent prick and let her skirt drop back into place. Jennie turned around and kissed him deeply with a passion of a thousand angels. "I'll keep that one for myself," she mused. He held her hands as she bent down on her knees and took his limp cock into her warm mouth once again. Jennie's talented tongue licked their juices from his dick as she deep-throated him several times. If he had any more to give, he would have cum down her throat in a second. Steve helped her up and put his arm around her waist as they walked back into the room. "Thanks, Jen, that was unforgettable." She smiled slyly, "For a quarter of a million bucks, it had better be." She shook her blonde locks, "The things I do for charity." They both laughed and headed back downstairs. Jennie squeezed her thighs together as she felt his cum leaking from her pussy.
Heather met them in the hall. "And where have you two been, or should I ask?" Jennie smiled "I was just telling Mr. Colt, more about how PETA works, and thanking him again for his financial assistance." Heather looked down the long hall and gently backed Jennie against the wall. Smiling at her, she placed a hand on her leg and moved it up under the smaller blonde's skirt. Jennie's eyes went wide as she watched for someone coming. "Heather," she whispered. Steve froze, not sure of Heather's intent. Jennie let out a small yelp as the older woman inserted a finger into her still wet, cum-soaked pussy, and twirled it around. Heather pulled it out quickly and brought the slimy mixture to her lips, "Mmmmmmmmhh, not a bad year," she grinned evilly. Jennie sighed, "Well, if that's what you wanted, why didn't you just ask?" She said, raising her skirt. "Shit!" Steve whispered, "What are you two doing!" The girls looked at him and grinned, "You just keep watch, tiger, you had your fun," Heather told him. She then sank to her knees and proceeded to lick his cum from her friend's dripping snatch. Jennie widened her stance and leaned back against the wall. Using her hands to open up Jennie wide, Heather probed deep with her tongue, licking the sperm from Jennie's walls.
"Mmmmh..yaa, get it all, Heather," she said, bucking on her friend's face. Jen had another smaller orgasm. Heather was careful not to smear her makeup, after she was done, she gave Jennie a wet, tongue-wrenching kiss that made Steve green with envy. "Thanks, Heather," Jennie said dreamily. "What are friends for," she responded, "By the way, Patricia Richardson is outside asking for you." Jennie nodded. "Come on, Steve, I'll introduce you to around some more," Heather offered. "Oh, one more thing," Heather cautioned as she pulled her hand out of her pocket. "Breath mint?" She said, offering them to Jennie. They both giggled. Jennie replied, taking two, Heather took one herself, as did Steve, shaking his head. "Thanks again, Steve, really, you're the greatest," Jen said, giving him a parting kiss. He grinned widely, "Worth every penny, Miss Garth." Her hand swung out at empty air as Heather yanked him away.
Heather escorted Steve down the hall, "Well, you're quite a hit tonight. The women think you're adorable, the men are respectful, but they have their suspicions." Steve flinched. "About the money," she continued. "Some suspect you're secretly wealthy, others think you're trying to con your way into the Fonda /Turner fortune." Steve laughed, "Anymore interesting gossip?" Heather grinned, "They're trying to figure out which one of the two you're sleeping with. Many think it's Bridget, others suspect Winona, the rest are convinced you're too nice of a guy, so you must be gay." Steve looked at her sternly. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I didn't start it," she giggled. "Maybe you could flirt with me a bit and I could...." She looked at him sideways, "You'd love that, wouldn't you." He grinned sheepishly, "Just a thought."
Entering the main parlor, they discovered most people had gone outside. Tori Spelling, Meg Ryan, and Mira Sorvino were sitting on a couch talking. Glenn Close was nearby with Danny Glubber, and Jack Lemmon. Steve made a beeline for the trio on the couch, "Behave yourself," Heather whispered. Steve answered out of the corner of his mouth, "Yes, mother." Meg Ryan looked up as they approached, "Hi, Heather."cute button nose and ice blue eyes. Heather made the introductions, Steve almost looked at Tori's tits while shaking her hand they looked a lot bigger up close. Mira Sorovino was a slim elegant figure, extremely attractive in her short white front buttoned dress. Although her boobs were much smaller than Miss Spellings, her long sexy legs more than made up for it. He was surprised how intelligent she was, Tori was a little lacking in that department, course she didn't need brains. As Steve was talking to the girls, Bridget came over with Eric Stoltz and introduced them. Heather and Meg excused themselves going outside to get some air. After a while Bridget noticed that Tori was flirting with Steve, casually adjusting the straps of her top, spilling wine on her breasts, giving him little "Fuck me!" looks when she thought Bridget wasn't looking. Bridget made the excuse of wanting to Steve to meet someone else and pried him away from the group. "Nice girl that Miss Spelling." He mused as the walked out of earshot. Bridget groaned and mumbled something about,"Silicone brain implants."
Out on the deck people were eating, some dancing to the low blues music piped outside. A cool breeze swept through the night, as the garden glowed under the soft exterior lights hung in the trees. Looking for the others, he saw Sarah talking with Jennifer Jason-Leigh, and Helen Hunt. Winona was eating at a table with Val and Joanne Kilmer, while Jennifer was dancing with Johnny Depp and Alyssa was dancing with Brad Pitt. Bridget pulled Steve out onto the dance floor, it was "Strangers in the night." She felt soft and light in his arms, "Hey you're a pretty good dancer." She exclaimed. He smiled, "Officer training school, and you're very good yourself." She blushed, "Finishing school." People remarked how well they moved together. "Enjoying yourself?" She asked timidly. "Your family has some very nice friends. I can't believe who I met tonight, I shook hands with Clint Eastwood, Sigourney Weaver kissed me!" He smiled like a schoolboy. Bridget smiled, "Uncle Clint, gave me my first pony on my 10th birthday." Steve looked at her, "Uncle Clint!" They moved closer together almost touching, he could see the pale moonlight reflecting from her eyes. She couldn't see a damn thing in his.
The song ended and the two walked over to the railing. They gazed out at the garden, fountains trickled water, into the small ponds, which glimmered in the soft light. "Whose that down there with Heather and Jennie?" Steve asked. Bridget peered at the three standing at the bottom of the lawn. "I don't know." Steve saw something that didn't quite look right. "Do Jennie and Heather smoke?" He asked casually. She shook her head. He held Bridget by the upper arm, and whispered into her ear as he turned her around towards the house. "Go find your Father, get him out here now." A look of bewilderment dropped over her face. Before she could ask why he was gone. Bridget went back into the house. Steve turned and left, walking quickly down the steps to the lawn. Taking the snaking pathway around the flowerbeds and fountains. He was ten yards away from the trio, the man had his back to him.
Bridget found her dad in the kitchen with Steven Spielberg and Uncle Ted. Peter smiled at her when he saw her come in, then frowned as he saw the look on her face. All three men stopped talking, "What's wrong honey?" He inquired. "There's this guy outside, at the bottom of the garden with Jen and Heather. I don't know who he is." "Steve thinks there's something wrong, he's gone down there to..." BANG!! BANG!! They all turned to look in the direction of the sounds, Bridget ran for the door before anyone could garb her. "BRIDGET!" Peter yelled after her, then he and Ted ran too.
The sound of gunfire rang out the people on the deck froze, and looked around, Robert Redford spotted the gunman first. People rushed to the rail like witnessing a car accident, some ran back into the house. Becky went inside and called 911. Bridget came out rushing across the deck running towards the steps to the garden. Sidney Portier swept her up in his arms as she tried to rush by. "LET ME GO, LET ME GO!!" She screamed. The large man wrapped her in his strong arms. "No it's to dangerous, you can't help them!" He yelled in his thick accent, stroking her hair as she cried sobbingly into his chest. The other's Alyssa, Sarah, Jennifer and Winona, stood clutching the rail like statues disbelieving the event unfolding before them. One at a time they began to quietly weep.
Heather spotted Steve coming down the trail, "STEVE!" She screamed. The man turned as Steve broke into a charge. The first two shots were fired in rapid succession, the first one winging his right arm, the second penetrating near the shoulder. Steve staggered sideways under the impact of the bullets. Jennie screamed, "NOOOOOOOOO!!!" The gunman fired again, the third bullet torn into the left side of Steve's chest. He went down on his knees, then flopped over onto his side. Steve recognized the pistol, it was a nickel plated snub nose .38 caliber revolver. He had fallen ten feet away from the assailant, the girls were another ten feet beyond him. The man walked over to Steve to see whom he had shot. He bent over for a close look, "Nobody." Then he turned back towards the girls, terrified their eyes soaked in tears they pleaded, for Steve's life. The man a tall thin goofy, looking fellow, with mousy blonde hair. As the man turned away Steve kicked out with his legs, striking him behind the knees. The man went down like a puppet, sprawled on his back. Steve tried to get up, raising himself on his good left arm. Jennie and Heather rushed forward, but not fast enough. The man sat up and pointed the gun at them, they backed off a few feet away from Steve. The man stood up, watching the girls he moved back a bit so he could see Steve, "Asshole! Mind your own fucking business!" He yelled. Then he shot Steve in the leg, the first one missed so he fired again. The bullet ripped into Steve's upper thigh. Steve screamed some expletive, which the author feels is too foul to repeat here. The girls screamed something even worst. Steve thought how many shots did he fire? Was it five or six? In all the excitement, he kind of forgot. (Apologies to Dirty Harry)
The man turned quickly pointing the gun at Jennie and Heather. Steve slumped back down to the ground, the loss of blood sapping his strength. The girls were screaming at the lone gunman hysterically now, their makeup running black lines down their faces.
The crowd on the balcony watched in horror, as man aimed the pistol at their two helpless colleagues. The girls clung to each other like frightened orphans. "I just wanted you to like me!" the distraught man yelled as them. "Now look what you've made me do! We could have been friends, instead you betrayed me. You're whores nothing but high priced whores. Slutting yourselves on TV night after night, teasing me with secret messages, taunting me! You don't deserve my worship, now you'll pay both of you!" Steve closed his eyes and began to pray, if he was going to die what was about to happen was not the last thing he wanted to see. | 3 |
6,917 | On the Holodeck | "Come on in, Jessie," the boss said as Jessie knocked on his door. "Please take a seat."
"What's up, Boss? Am I in trouble?"
"Not exactly. I'll cut straight to the chase. We are worried about you, Jess. Since... you know... since the accident, you've been less than your usual productive self."
"I'm doing my best, Boss. It's just hard to concentrate sometimes."
"In this business, Jessie, lack of concentration is a major problem."
"So what are you saying to me?" asked Jessie.
"We want you to take some time off. We think you need time to grieve. When Demi died, it was a shock to us all. But you tried to just carry on, against the advice of others. You need time to get over what happened properly."
"I can't take time off. What shall I do?"
"That's up to you. Find some way to help you get over Demi, take a vacation, spend all your time in a Holodeck, whatever. Just do whatever you need to come back here and back to working the way you did before."
"I can't afford to take time off."
"It'll be a paid sabbatical. You don't have a choice. As of tomorrow, I don't want to see you here for another month. Is that clear?"
Jessie arrived back at his house. What was he going to do for the next 30 days? All his material for his project was at work, so he couldn't do that. He didn't have enough credits for a holiday. His only option was to run an immersive Holodeck program, to try and "get away from it all."
Over the next few days, he tried many different programs, but none of them could hold his interest. Even the best-selling crime series, "Franklin Jones Investigates," he found boring. He hated to admit it to himself, but he missed his dear Demi. He figured he needed to see her again, to touch her, to smell her.
"Computer," he said as he entered the Holodeck, "do you have enough data on file to create a facsimile of Demi Huskley?"
The computer answered in a soft, sensual female voice, "There is enough data on file to create an accurate physical facsimile of Demi Huskley."
"How accurate?" asked Jessie.
"To within 1%," the computer informed him.
"Then do it."
"Working... Working," the computer repeated as it began to build up the Hologram version of Jessie's wife.
Slowly the image came into focus. Her long black hair cascaded down her back. Her breasts swelled out in a divine manner, and with her rounded hips, formed a delightful hourglass figure.
"Computer, much as I like seeing my wife naked, perhaps you should put some clothes on her."
"Select outfit," said the computer.
"Something casual... Jeans and T-shirt."
The clothes appeared on Demi's form, covering up her assets. Jessie was slightly disappointed, but at least he could look at her without a permanent hard-on. He walked around her static figure, admiring the way she looked.
"I always liked you in Jeans, Dee. Your ass fills them just right."
He walked back around to the front, smiling constantly.
"I wish I could talk to you. There's so much I need to tell you. I've missed the sound of your voice so much."
He stood admiring this copy of his dead wife. Suddenly he had an idea.
"Computer. Can you make her speak, so that I can have a conversation with her?"
"Yes. A copy of Demi Huskley's vocal pattern is on file. This can be used to simulate her voice."
"Do it. Have her interact with me." He waited a few moments until the computer told him that Holo-Demi was ready to speak.
"Demi? I've missed you."
Holo-Demi stood soundless.
"Did you miss me too?" Jessie asked.
"Yes." It was definitely Demi's voice, but it sounded hollow, emotionless.
"How have you been?" Jessie wanted her to reply in full, to have a conversation with her.
"I have been dead," said Holo-Demi. Jessie nearly broke into tears.
"Computer. You've got it wrong, this is all wrong."
"Is it not Demi Huskley's voice?" asked the computer.
"Yes, it's her voice, but she sounds like you. There's no emotion in her voice."
"It is what you asked for. An interactive copy of Demi Huskley using her vocal pattern," said the computer.
"That's not what I meant," said Jessie. "Could you incorporate the personality subroutine from 'Franklin Jones Investigates' into this program, and adapt it to produce a copy of Demi's personality?"
"It would require a large amount of data of the chosen subject," said the computer.
"Would 50 or so hours of home video data be enough?" asked Jessie.
"It would."
"How long will it take?" questioned Jessie.
"The integration would take 2 hours 7 minutes," the computer informed him.
"Fine. I'll be back in 2 hours. Place Demi in the Martian restaurant program for when I return."
While he waited for the computer to finish its task, Jessie took a long bath to freshen up. He picked out his best suit and did his hair. If he was going to see Demi again, he wanted to look his best. When he got back to the Holodeck, the program was already running. He opened the door and went in. The Martian Restaurant program created an atmospheric restaurant overlooking the red Martian skyline.
He approached the bar and saw Demi sat on a bar stool wearing a slinky black velvet dress. She had two glasses in front of her filled with what looked like rum and coke.
She turned around to greet him as he approached. "Hi, Jessie. Where have you been? You're over five minutes late."
It was perfect. Exactly what the real Demi would have said.
"Sorry," he said, "Traffic."
"I got you a Malibu and Coke," she said, "Your favorite."
"Thanks," he said. He was speechless. After so long, here he was having a drink with the most perfect of God's creatures.
"You look radiant," he said, "and I love that dress on you."
"Thanks," she said with a smile, "I brought it specially."
The waiter walked up to them and coughed politely. "Your table is ready, Sir, Madame. If you would care to follow me."
He led the couple, walking arm in arm, to their table. They ordered food and wine, which came promptly. There wasn't much conversation between them as the night wore on. Jessie was just glad to be in the company of the woman he had loved for 12 years. They ate their meal, then danced the night away in the restaurant's disco.
At a quarter to one in the morning, the music from the disco slowed down to smoochy numbers as the place prepared to close for the night.
Demi and Jessie danced close. He held her tightly against him, cupping her ass cheeks in his hands. Her hands were around his neck as they kissed passionately, exploring each other's mouths with their tongues. He moved his hands up her body, following the contour of her hips. As his hands reached the swell of her breast, he moved his hands around to her back, then back down to her bum.He squeezed each cheek of her bum in turn. She moaned as they kissed.
The final song ended, and the couple left the dance floor to finish their drinks. The program was coming to an end, and Jessie didn't want to leave his wife.
"Computer," he said, "freeze program."
Everything around Jessie came to a standstill, even Demi. It was like standing in a waxworks museum.
"Computer, how much of this program is left?"
"You should escort your guest to her car, then the program ends."
"Shit," he paused, "Tell you what. Search the Adult files on the network. Find a program that involves two lovers going to a hotel room after a meal."
"Searching... Searching... Search complete. There are 6 such programs on file."
"Great," said Jessie, "Merge them into one and add it to the end of this program. Add in the adaptive subroutine I wrote, then continue program."
The computer responded, "Working... Working... Working... Program complete."
As the computer voice faded away, the scene surrounding Jessie came back to life.
"Come on," said Demi, "Let's go back to the hotel and have another drink."
"Okay," said Jessie, "I'll get the coats and meet you outside."
That's what he did. He fetched the couple's overcoats from the cloakroom, then met Demi outside the restaurant, where she had already hailed a taxi.
"Quick," she said, "the meter's running."
Jessie jumped into the back seat of the cab beside Demi. As soon as he was in, the driver set off for their hotel. For the entire journey, Demi and Jessie made out in the back seat. They kissed, and their hands explored each other. The driver enjoyed the view in his mirror. By the time they got to their hotel, Jessie's erection made it difficult for him to walk. Demi noticed.
"What's wrong, Jess? A little excited?"
They made their way up to their rooms, groping each other in the elevator. No sooner had Jessie closed the door behind them after entering the room than Demi fell to her knees and pulled at the zip to his trousers. She reached inside and searched for his dick. She found it, and in its current state had a little trouble getting it out into the open.
"Hmm," she moaned as she examined the trouser snake. She looked at it from all angles, licking her lips in anticipation.
"I love you," she said, then slowly wrapped her lips over the head of Jessie's straining prick.
Jessie threw his head back and closed his eyes as she worked him over. The real Demi had loved to do this too. She slipped it into her mouth further, until it was all the way in, her nose touching his belly, and his balls hitting her chin. She stayed there, seemingly motionless, but inside her mouth, her tongue was furiously licking and stroking along the length of his shaft, and around the bulbous head.
She began to move her head back and forth, slowly at first, but then increasing pace as she used her hand to stroke it too. Her other hand cupped his balls, massaging them gently.
It had been a long time since Jessie had been in this situation, and he came quickly and with force. Demi swallowed every last drop, milking him dry. She took his shrinking dick out of her mouth and stood up in front of Jessie. She kissed him full on the lips, and he could taste his own sperm. She broke off from him.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you too," replied Jessie, breathless.
"How about that drink?" she said as she went over to the mini-bar, leaving Jessie standing by the door, his shriveled cock hanging out of his fly.
He tucked it back inside his pants and joined Demi who was now sitting on the bed with two drinks. He sipped the drink as he stared into his wife's emerald green eyes. He was lost. In heaven. He had fallen in love all over again. He knew that this was bad for his mind, he was supposed to be trying to get over Demi's tragic death. Yet here he was about to make love to her for the first time in ages. Surely some psychologist somewhere would be able to justify it. He was saying good-bye.
They finished the drinks, and placed the empty cups on the floor. They looked at each other, and began kissing again. As they did, they also tried to undress each other. Demi pushed Jessie's jacket off, and began to unbutton his shirt. Jessie pulled the straps of her dress down off her shoulders. Demi ran her fingers through the hair on Jessie's chest as it was exposed by his open shirt.
He pulled her dress down, exposing her breasts, covered in a tiny black lace bra. He reached around her back and unclasped the snaps of the garment. It fell away, revealing the milky white domes, with their big pink nipples. Jessie's hands cupped her tits, and his fingers began to flick at her nipples.
She pushed his shirt off, throwing it to the other side of the room. Her hands fell to his belt buckle. She undid it, then opened up his trousers. Her hands went inside, searching for his dick. Meantime, he moved his head down and began to suck first at the left, then the right nipple.
She moaned, enjoying the sensation Jessie was giving her. She stood, and slowly she slid the dress all the way down, past her ankles, and she kicked it off to the side. Jessie looked at her admiringly. She wore no knickers. Smiling at Jessie, Demi lay down on the bed, her hands above her head and one leg lifted up, bent at the knee. The look in her eyes said just one thing, "Fuck me."
Jessie stood and got rid of his last remaining articles of clothing. Then he climbed up the bed to where Demi lay. As he reached her, she put her arms around his neck, and pulled his head towards her for a kiss. She parted her legs for him, and he reached down to guide himself inside her.
As his dick penetrated her, parting the red lips of her pussy, she gasped. Slowly he filled her up, pushing inside her as far as he would go, stretching her. He began to grind his hips against her, sliding back and forth. She moaned as he pulled out, and gasped as he forced his way back in. They kept a steady rhythm, and were lost to their own passion.
Presently, she rolled him over, trying not to separate from him as she did. She was now sat on top of him, straddling him. Once she was comfortable, she began to ride him. She started slowly, and increased in tempo as her pleasure grew. She built towards orgasm, and as it approached she began to buck wildly, impaled on Jessie's dick.
As she stopped cumming, she fell down on top of Jessie. Breathlessly she said, "I love you."
He said nothing, but kissed her hard for a few seconds. Then he rolled her over, moving his hands underneath her arse, lifting it to give him easier access. He was close to his own orgasm, and wanted to pound his beautiful wife as hard as he could. There was no slow build-up this time. He just rammed into her as fast as he could. His pace was furious, and with each inward stroke, Demi gasped loudly, as if the air was being forced out of her lungs.
Within minutes, he was shooting his sperm deep inside Demi's womb. He collapsed on top of her exhausted.
"I love you, Demi," he said.
She rolled onto her side, and he scooped up beside her, draping his arm over her. As she fell asleep, the computer voice boomed around the room.
"This program has reached its conclusion."
"Damn," said Jessie.
He climbed out of the bed, Demi now motionless. As he dressed, he said, "Computer," then paused, "Save program as 'Demi 1'. I think I'll be running that again."
With that, he left the Holodeck as the hotel room, and Demi, faded and vanished. | 3 |
6,921 | It's Hard to be a Man | "You're going to have to stall Patrick," Abigail said over the phone. "I won't be able to get there before he does."
"But what do I do?" Ian replied fearfully.
"Just talk about anything. Just keep him occupied for as long as possible. I'll give the signal to Amanda. With luck, she can get out in time without meeting Patrick or alerting Hank. Now move!"
Ian headed as quickly as he could down to reception. His heart was racing. What was he going to say to Patrick? He was the last person on Earth Ian wanted to talk to. It meant having to face up to having had sex with a man.
The minutes passed slowly, and Ian was beginning to hope that Abigail had got it wrong and Patrick had gone somewhere else. That hope was dashed when he saw Patrick's car pull past reception and into the car park.
Ian tried to act casual as his boss walked into reception. He had to keep Patrick from realizing what he was doing. Despite himself, his mouth dropped open when he saw what Patrick had on.
His boss was wearing a short, and rather tight, black mini-skirt, a revealing blouse, and a dark jacket. He also had several rings and bracelets on. The effect was topped with makeup and clip-on earrings. Patrick turned to look at Ian. "Hiya," he said brightly.
"Uh...hi," Ian managed to reply.
"Are you okay? You're looking an odd color."
"Sorry, I was just thinking about what happened last time we met." Idiot! he berated himself, couldn't you find something else to talk about?
"It's disturbing you, isn't it?" Patrick asked softly.
"Well, yeah, obviously. I mean you're a man after all."
Patrick shook his head. "Not anymore. I'm a woman now and I always will be. Anyway, Hank doesn't have a problem with my body."
"Of course he doesn't! He doesn't know you're Patrick!"
Pretending not to notice what he was doing, Patrick brushed back the jacket, revealing the curve of his breast through his blouse. He was amused to see Ian's eyes flick over his curves. "Look, Ian. I'm a woman, a very sexy one in fact, and I turned you on so much you lost control. It's hardly your fault. It's a pity I'm with Hank; you're not bad looking yourself." Patrick moved closer and was amused to see Ian stumble backwards. "Don't worry, I don't bite. Unless you want me to." He turned and walked over to the elevator.
It took Ian several seconds to recover and remember what he was supposed to be doing. He barely had time to catch up with Patrick before the elevator doors closed on him. "You... you shouldn't deceive Hank like this. It isn't right."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not deceiving him. I'm exactly who I appear to be. Anyway, what are you going to do about it? Tell Hank?"
Ian was silent. Of course he couldn't tell Hank. He'd never be believed.
They arrived on the fourth floor, and Patrick set off as fast as he could on his high heels towards his office.Patrick's stomach gave another lurch as he remembered how he had escaped by giving Ian a blowjob and then breaking free.
He couldn't turn back into a man just yet; the clothes he had on were too obviously feminine. He calmed himself down, dried his eyes with a tissue, and started driving again. He would go back to his apartment and dress in his male clothes. Then he'd burn every piece of female clothing in the place.
Ian rode his motorbike the few streets to where Abigail and Amanda were waiting.
"Did Hank see Patrick turn male?" was Amanda's first question.
"I don't think so," Ian replied. "He seemed more worried about what Patrick would do when he found out. He wasn't too happy you'd disappeared either."
"Typical," Amanda remarked, "he wanted two women at once and now he's surprised he's lost both."
"The big question, though," Abigail pointed out, "is: Has this worked? Are we still dealing with 'Rebecca', or is Patrick back in charge?"
"I hope it worked," Ian said fervently, "I do not want to go through that again."
"You two get some rest," Abigail said. "You've done everything possible for one night. I'll go over to his apartment alone and see what sort of state he's in."
Amanda was a little reluctant at leaving at that point. She wanted to know if her plan had worked. Ian, however, was only too happy to get home and relax.
Abigail's car was still playing up a little, but it worked well enough to allow her to reach Patrick's apartment building. She knocked quietly at the door to his apartment and waited. She wished her own psychic powers were good enough to see if he was in there or not.
She knocked again and waited nervously. She was about to leave when she heard a movement behind the door. Then the door opened a crack and she was relieved to see Patrick's male face poking around it. He looked so forlorn that she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
Without saying a word, Patrick let her into the apartment. They looked at each other in silence for several long seconds. Finally, Patrick spoke, "You three planned that, didn't you?"
"Yes," she admitted, "it was Amanda's idea, but we all went along with it. It was a desperate move, but we had to do something. I'm really sorry, Patrick."
He sighed and slumped down in an armchair. "I don't think I've ever been so happy than I was this weekend. Everything was perfect. Or so it seemed at the time. Now I can't believe a quarter of the things I've done in the last few days. I was totally and completely in love with Hank. I would have done anything for him. Anything! I was even playing with the idea of getting pregnant! I thought that would bind us together forever. I probably wouldn't have seen him for dust if I had told him he was going to be a father." Patrick's hand flew to his belly. "You don't think I did get pregnant? We didn't use any protection!"
"It probably doesn't matter. You're a man right now and even if... something did happen... it probably disappeared when you turned male."
Patrick managed a weak smile, "That's probably a good thing. I don't think I'd make a good Mom." He was uncomfortably aware that a part of him was upset by the idea of a lost child.
"I really, truly, am sorry about all this," Abigail told him. "We will do everything we can to sort this out, but it is going to be a few weeks before we can perform the ceremony again."
"I'm stuck like this for several more weeks?" he asked despairingly. "I'd forgotten the strain it took just to stay male. I can feel the pressure already building within me."
"Perhaps you should take the next few weeks off work. Just until everything is sorted out."
"I can't do that! There's far too much to do."
"It can wait," she replied exasperated, "Your health is more important."
"Don't worry, Abigail. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, but I want you to call either me, Amanda or Ian if you need help."
"I will," he replied. He felt a little reticent at going for Amanda or Ian for help, but it wasn't like he'd have much choice. He would have to depend on these three considerably over the next few weeks. He hadn't needed to be supported like that since before he had gone to University and it hurt his male pride a little.
Abigail didn't want to leave Patrick alone, but he insisted. He said he had a lot of things to think through so she left him to it.
After she had left, Patrick returned to the main room and sat back in the chair. His emotions were a jumbled mess and nothing seemed certain anymore. His affair with Hank went against every fiber of his being and yet, it had felt good to be held in those powerful arms.
He winced as he remembered how he had tricked Ian into freeing him. He was a good few years younger than Patrick, but he was so cute. Patrick wished he could stop those odd little thoughts entering his head. He knew it wasn't a sign that he might snap back into sex-kitten mode, but it showed that his whole perception of the world had been permanently altered.
Soon, he was going to have to change into a woman again. Every second spent male meant he had to expend effort to stop himself changing sex. He was going to have to spend most evenings as a woman to give himself the mental energy to last the day at work as a man.
This was a battle he could win, he decided. All he had to do was hold back the female desires for the several weeks necessary. Then, when fully male again, the female desires would slowly disappear. A part of him didn't truly believe he had the stamina. The way he had so disastrously lost control before deeply worried him. The knowledge of what could happen if he slipped again only increased his determination to resist it.
He allowed his body to turn female again. He was relieved to find that his mind didn't change as well as his body. It looked like 'Becky' was gone for good. He just wished that his male body felt half as comfortable and familiar as this one did.
The office was filled with a tense atmosphere the next morning. Everyone was worried about something different, but it all led back to 'Becky'.
Hank was worried about what Becky might have said to Patrick. She had been a weird girl, but very good in bed. He still couldn't make any sense about what Amanda had been up to the previous evening. It was almost as if she had been trying to drive a wedge between himself and Becky, but why would she want to do that? He wondered if Amanda really was available. It would be best to leave that well alone as he was probably in enough trouble over Becky as it was.
Ian was terrified about meeting Patrick for the first time since his boss regained his senses. How would Patrick react to what he and Ian had done together?
Susan was wondering what the hell was going on with everyone and how it could affect her job.
Outside in the car park, Patrick was trying to calm himself down before heading up to the office. He had let his body become mostly female so he would be able to concentrate on driving. Now he had reached work, he gathered his will together and concentrated until his body turned fully male again. He adjusted his clothing and then headed inside the building and into the elevator.
He worried over meeting Hank again. How could their friendship survive the intimacy they had shared? Even if only one of them knew they had been intimate with the other.
"Hiya, Patrick!" Hank said smiling broadly as Patrick walked into the office. "I was sorry to hear about your cousin." Hank's eye was bruised and swollen.
Patrick remembered the cover story he had given as Becky to explain his disappearance. "It's okay, we weren't that close, but there was no-one else to deal with everything." He frowned at Hank's black eye. "What happened to you?"
"Oh, that," Hank said and laughed a little nervously. "I...uh... walked into a door."
Patrick couldn't help but smile at the lame excuse. "I hope she was worth it."
Hank relaxed a little. He assumed by Patrick's attitude that his friend and boss had no idea what had happened between him and Becky. "She was."
Patrick looked up at the rest of his staff. He saw Ian at the back looking nervous. "Right, we've got a lot to do, and no time to do it in. So I need one-hundred and ten percent effort from all of you today."
He headed into his inner office and sighed at the mountain of work. It had certainly built up while he had been playing the bimbo. He settled down behind his desk and relaxed his control on the lower half of his body.
Within a few seconds, his hips widened as he felt a by now familiar pulling sensation in his crotch as he turned physically female. He squirmed in his chair to get comfortable and then turned to the reports.
Despite his attempts to concentrate on the files, he couldn't help but return to thinking about his condition. It was only natural that his female form would feel more comfortable than his male one as he had spent so much time in recent days as a woman.
As the hours passed, his headache started to return with a vengeance. If only he could be a woman and keep his job, he thought to himself. Then he wouldn't feel so sick all the time. It was, of course, impossible as his female self did not officially exist, had no qualifications and had no job history.
Was being a woman so bad anyway? As long as he kept his own mind instead of becoming Becky again. Sex on the opposite side had been fantastic. Patrick looked through the glass partition at the rest of the office. He'd always see Hank, Ian and perhaps all men in a different way from now on. He could now see the beauty in men's bodies. He found himself scanning male bodies just as much as female ones. That was discomforting to him, and he hoped that his bisexuality would fade in time. Even if it did, he doubted it would be a door that would ever fully close.
By lunchtime, his headache was getting serious.He knew he'd need to take time out and rest in his female form at Abigail's bookshop. Patrick would have preferred to have set an example to the rest of his staff and work through his lunch break, but he knew he'd never survive the day if he did.
Barely able to keep his body male, he headed down and out of the building and over to Abigail's shop. Patrick sensed someone following him and he turned to see Ian a few feet behind him.
Ian looked embarrassed. "I-I need to talk to you."
Patrick nodded. If anything, Ian was more disturbed about what had happened between them than Patrick was. "Okay, let's keep walking. I need to get to Abigail's for a break."
Ian clearly didn't want to say anything in public, so they walked in silence the short distance to the New Age bookstore.
Abigail smiled as she saw Patrick enter. "How are you?"
"Splitting headache, but other than that, I'm okay," Patrick replied. He could see she was surprised Ian was with him. "Could I ask a favor?"
"Of course," Abigail replied.
"Ian and I need to talk in private and..."
"Say no more," Abigail interrupted. "Go on upstairs."
"Thanks, Abigail."
Abigail smiled at Ian as he passed her on his way upstairs. He smiled back nervously and then followed Patrick up the narrow stairs to Abigail's apartment.
Patrick slumped down in an armchair when he got there and undid the top few buttons of his shirt. Ian was about to ask Patrick why he was doing that when Patrick's body started to writhe and change.
Ian's jaw dropped open as he watched his boss' body turn female. He had never seen the change up close before. His eyes ran over the voluptuous woman's body enclosed in a male suit with a mixture of horror and lust. Despite himself, Patrick's feminine form was turning him on. He consciously avoided looking down Patrick's exposed cleavage. This only confirmed that the decision he had reached was the right one.
Patrick broke the silence, "So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked in, what seemed to Ian, a devastatingly sexy female voice.
"Well..." Ian started. "I can't get over what happened, and being around you and Hank every day only makes it worse. I've decided to resign. It'd be better for both of us if we didn't see each other."
"You don't need to do that," Patrick replied quietly. He could see how much pain Ian was in. "The last few days have been traumatic for all of us, but we can work it out. In time everything will get back to normal."
Ian realized his gaze had slipped down to Patrick's barely concealed breasts again. He looked away and shuddered. "You don't understand. Part of me doesn't want anything to change; it wants you so much. That's why I have to back off." Patrick took in several long gasps to try to calm himself down. "I gotta go," he said abruptly before bolting for the stairs down to the shop.
"Ian, wait up!" Patrick called, but Ian didn't listen and was out of the shop as fast as he could go.
Patrick walked over to the window and watched Ian run off. He could feel tears in the corners of his eyes, but couldn't quite work out why he felt so sad. | 4 |
6,933 | The Oldest Profession (?) | "You don't agree, do you?"
"It's not that I don't agree, I just think 30 is rather a large number for her to handle. 30! Every day. She'll soon get worn out."
"I don't think so, she's young and fit. She'll cope. Anyway, she's really got no choice. And more to the point, nor have we. That's the number we get, so that's the number she'll have to handle."
"I was just thinking that we might start her off more gently."
"Look at it this way. If we reduce the number, then we'll have to put the prices up, and if we do that, then we'd end up with fewer numbers. It's a vicious circle. You need a critical mass of customers to keep the place going. Remember, most of our clients come via word of mouth. The only other alternative is to hand over some of hers to one of the others, and I don't think they'd be too pleased. They had to cope, and so must she."
"I suppose you are right. It just seems a lot, considering she is so inexperienced."
"She'll get the experience soon enough. If there's one thing this type of work is good at, it is in providing on-the-job training."
They both laughed at this.
"Hmm. Yes, okay. So have you discussed it with her?"
"No. She'll do what she's told. As I said, she really has no choice."
"It makes you wonder what makes these girls want to do it."
"Money, kudos, lots of reasons. Young women are very susceptible; they see an older woman doing it and they envy them their lifestyle. Then they get sucked in, and before they know where they are, they are stuck, and they find they can't get any other type of employment once it becomes known what they've been doing."
"But it always ends up with the reality being so different from the perceptions."
There was a shrug from the other side of the table.
"What can I say? Every job has its own mystique, and so has this. As it happens, I know exactly why she came here."
"Why?"
"Her stepfather."
"You don't mean that horrid little man who was always asking about how much she'd earn?"
"That's the one. It seems that he is unemployed, and her mother died years ago. So he sees the girl as his meal ticket. For what I can gather, he pressured her into it; he told her that it was the only sort of work a girl with her qualifications could get."
"Poor girl. Fancy having to hand your earnings over to him. Anyway, couldn't she have been a typist or something?"
"She wouldn't earn anywhere near the money she gets here. Anyway, don't look a gift horse in the mouth; she came just at the right time, we needed someone else after we lost Molly."
"What happened to her? I never did find out."
"Overwork, they said. There's only so much abuse a girl can take. Still, it was a pity, as she was very good. Now she could cope with 30 easily; she's often dealt with more when the situation demanded it."
"Rather her than me. I couldn't think of a more tiring job."
"Like every job, you get used to it in time."
"I don't think I ever could."
"I agree it's not the job for everybody. Especially in view of the social stigma that is now attached to it. In some countries, it is regarded as performing a valuable service to the community and as such, it is regarded as a worthwhile profession. Like in Holland, for example."
"It's a long time since I've heard it called a profession, especially in this country."
"It used to be, before the government changed everything and gave it such a bad name. Whatever they say, it is the oldest profession in the world. And it is perfectly natural. Most of us do it at one time or another."
A smile.
"Not with 30 at a time."
"True, but then again, that's why she is paid so much."
"I think she earns every penny, rather her than me. Anyway, changing the subject, is her room prepared?"
"Yes, Molly left everything as it was. All she needs is there."
"Did you redecorate? If I recall, the room is a bit shabby."
"They don't seem to mind. Anyway, they don't come here for the decor."
"Surely if the rooms looked nicer, we'd attract more clients."
"Catch 22, I'm afraid. You attract more, and then she'd have to cope with more."
"Hmm. I see what you mean. Can you answer a question for me? It's something I've always wondered about, do they get any pleasure from it?"
"Some don't and some do. It's hard to say. The ones who do are obviously the most popular, so we try and encourage it."
"I can't see how anyone could enjoy it."
The headmistress smiled across at the new school governor.
"Which is probably why you are not an infant teacher in a private school." | 5 |
6,977 | Moon Part III | "Get out of here." The words were spoken coldly, emotionless, forcing their way out between the lips of Janet's mother. The door slammed shut- "You two sluts get out of my house!" Moon and Janet separated their naked bodies in a rush, their minds racing, dressing as quickly as they could. They were both cold with shock, and Janet started to cry, the shock of it hitting her like a ton of bricks.
"Mom-"
"I don't want to hear it- you know I don't like your goddamn bisexual shit, and now I catch you fucking that slut in my house! Get the FUCK out of here!" Janet's mother was yelling, banging against the walls and throwing objects in a tantrum. Janet and Moon heard glass shatter against the door of Janet's room, and Moon shivered in fear. Janet's face was white.
"We've been going out for a long time, Mom- we haven't been just fucking--" Janet's words came out in short shrieks of sobs, and Moon was crying too. They were dressed now, and Janet was getting furious at her mother's prejudice, throwing her closet doors open and tossing her favorite clothes on her bed.
"I SAID I DONT FUCKING WANT TO HEAR IT! GET THE FUCK OUT!"
"FUCK YOU!"
Janet was surprised by the severity of her words, but she knew she meant every word as she started to throw clothes into her backpack. She took some makeup- concealer, eyeliner and lip gloss- and tore the pictures hanging on the walls, tossing them angrily into her backpack. Moon was standing helplessly, her beautiful face contorted in pain and anger. She was gathering up Janet's belongings and stuffing them into her backpack, too, knowing what Janet liked the best from their long friendship. Finally, Janet threw her black lipstick on top of the whole pile, and tenderly put her small stuffed puppy in the front pouch of the bag. She took a thick wad of money from the top drawer of her dresser, and shoved it down her front jeans pocket.
Janet's mother was in her bedroom now, still screaming and yelling in hysterics. Janet's father was woken by the noise, and he could be heard trying to calm down Janet's mother. There was another loud shattering of glass, and a few minutes later, Janet's father opened Janet's door.
"Honey, you know your mom doesn't mean it, she's just upset-" his face was tearful.
"I love you, dad, but I'm getting the fuck out of this twisted household.." Janet said bitterly, tearfully, hugging her father and walking out of the bedroom- heading to the front door. Moon looked at Janet's father pitifully, saying in a small, mousy voice-
"I didn't mean to cause trouble, sir.."
The face of Janet's father was sad, and he gave a tight smile before he turned and walked away. Moon ran to catch up with Janet, and got into Janet's car just as the tires of the 1989 Ford Probe squealed out of the driveway. They were alone in the cold night.
"Hon.." Moon said softly, and Janet was hiccuping with sobs. "Let's go to my house.. we can get cleaned up and calm you down.."
"YOUR mother didn't give you this kind of shit." Janet was gasping between words, and was indeed trying to calm herself down unsuccessfully.
"My mom was married to a woman for 11 years.."
Janet was silent with surprise.
"You know my aunt?"
Janet nodded. Moon went to visit her aunt every few weekends, staying with her. Janet used to joke about how her aunt had joint custody of Moon due to the frequency of her visits.
"Well, she's not really my aunt. She's my mom's ex-wife.. She raised me with mom until she was about 8 years old."
Janet was quiet, concentrating on the dark streets of the city, paying no homage to the stop signs or speed limits. In a city that never slept, it was 3am, and everyone was at home asleep. Or having sex. Janet didn't particularly care at this moment. She sighed, and her sigh was caught in a choking sob. She flicked on her turn signal, beginning the trek to Moon's house.
"I'm sorry.." Moon sighed quietly, and wiped a tear away from her cheek. She reached out for Janet's hand, and squeezed the clammy fingers.
"It's not your fault. You know what happened when she found out I was bisexual," Janet said quietly.
"No, I don't."
"Well.. this girl came over to my house when I was about 14. And we started to flirt a little, and we kissed a little. We were trying to piss her boyfriend off. Anyway.. she was in my lap, and I was cuddling her, when mom came to the basement and saw us. Well, she didn't say anything then, but when I talked to her later, she called her a slut. She called me a slut. She said that bisexual people were only sluts that didn't give a flying fuck who went into what hole."
"Ah, Janet, I'm sorry.." Moon's tone was sympathetic.
"Stop saying that!" Janet snapped, then softened. "Sorry.. none of it's your fault.
Anyway.. she was in my room. There was this stereo that I had just bought, for about 125 dollars, and she picked it up and threw it at my head. It broke. I still have some pieces. She threw all my CD's, and tapes at me.. smashed most of them beyond recognition."
Moon was silent for the rest of the ride to her home.
Janet pulled the vehicle in Moon's driveway, and parked it. They both got out, and pulled their backpacks out with them. A light in the small trailer flicked on, and a face appeared in the window. Moon's mother, Jenny- her face was surprised at her daughter's girlfriend and her daughter coming home at 3:30 in the morning.
They were greeted at the door by Jenny's waiting sentence- "what happened?" The look on both of these girls was woeful, and Janet was still sniffling and crying. Jenny ushered them inside, dressed only in a T-shirt in the cold trailer.
"We had a little ... falling out with Janet's mother." The sentence was as blunt as a hot knife slicing through butter, and Jenny's face went wide with concern. Janet said nothing, and dropped her bag onto the floor of the tiny living room.
"Did she find out?"
"She came in when we were doing it," Moon said quietly, matter-of-fact.
Jenny sighed. This sentence, if uttered to Janet's mother, would have evoked a horrific, beast-like response. However, Moon's mother was incredibly liberal (too liberal- Moon had to raise her younger sister practically by herself), and in fact supported their relationship. That's the way she was at, at their age. Janet collapsed on a couch, weary. The last hour had felt like 50. Moon opened the fridge door and handed Jenny and Janet both beers, opening one for herself with a sizzle.
"And well," Moon continued, "She said for both of us sluts to get out of her house.. So I guess.. Well.. I don't know what's gonna happen now."
Moon's face was tense, serious, and she lifted her beer and swallowed a quarter of the can in a gulp. Janet followed suit, and Jenny sipped the beer quietly. Moon sat next to Janet, pulling her close, holding her. Janet's body was rigid and numb with shock.
"Wonder if she wants me back." The sentence was more of a statement than a question, and she was shaking her head as she said it. Neither Moon nor Jenny offered their opinion. Janet finished drinking her beer, holding the cold can in her cold fingers. She reached over and took Moon's beer, draining the rest in a few minutes.
"Well you know you can stay as long as you want to, Hun- any friend of my daughter's is a friend of mine.." Jenny offered quietly. Janet nodded. "I'm tired.."
"You want to go to bed?" Jenny asked gently. Janet nodded, and Moon nodded too. She reached up her hand and gently wiped another tear off of Janet's cheek. Janet's expression was cold now, and numb.
"What's going on?" Moon's brother, awakened by the noises, had snuck into the living room.
"Go to bed!" Moon growled at Rob, and he made a face at her, starting to leave before he noticed the beer. "HEY!"Mom, if she gets to have beer-"
"She's got 4 years before she's legal, and you've got 11." The sentence was tired and well-worn from Jenny's mouth. Rob gave an "Aw!" and left.
Jenny stood up and said, "I'm going to go check on Angel and go back to bed. Holler at me if you need anything." She left the room. Janet watched her leave, then stood up. She went to the pantry, pulled out a vodka bottle wordlessly, and walked to Moon's room. Moon followed silently.
"When you're Russian, drink as the Russians do..." Janet gave a weak smile as she took a healthy gulp and laid down on Moon's bed, head supported by a posturpedic pillow. Fire raced through Janet's throat in the comforting way it did anytime Janet felt unhappy, and Janet reveled in the feeling.
Moon took a drink from Janet's flask and undressed for bed. She put on a long shirt that reached to her mid-thigh and crawled tiredly underneath the covers. Janet slumped her shoulders as she sighed, took another swig. She sat up for a few minutes, taking a few shot's worth of vodka quickly and easily before she set the bottle on the floor to take off her pants and shirt. She got underneath the covers with Moon and placed her cold feet on Moon's calf.
"HEY!" Moon laughed, pulling away. Janet grinned, stuck her feet between Moon's thighs, and held Moon as she squealed. When her feet were warm, she released Moon's arms and turned on her side. Moon snuggled close to Janet, spooning her small body tightly, and put her arms around Janet's small waist, pulling her close. Janet pushed her body back slightly to cuddle against Moon. Moon pushed Janet's hair away from her neck and kissed the back of Janet's neck comfortingly. Moon murmured softly, "I love you," and Janet took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Janet was held by Moon until she drifted into a slightly drunken sleep, her rest that night plagued with nightmares and sweat.
to be continued... | 3 |
6,989 | An Eye Full | "I've got to run over to the bank, Gary. Keep an eye on things for me." Ted saluted as he pushed open the backdoor of the restaurant.
"Sure, Ted," said the young cook, tossing his spatula with a flip through the air. The heavy door slammed shut. "Adios."
Gary turned and opened the tall chrome refrigerator behind him, and inspected the boxes of frozen meat. "Should be plenty," he said to himself, considering the evening ahead. He worked his way around the kitchen, checking for lettuce, bread, and potatoes. He stirred the chicken stock on the small stove and took a quick taste.
"Hi, Gary," said June, tying her red apron behind her waist. Walking around the chrome counter, Gary grabbed the thin brunette and kissed her. "Gary!" June said emphatically, laughing in his grasp. "Not now."
"Ted's gone. No one can see." Gary nibbled her throat.
"Not now!" she said, twisting free of his pawing hands. "Don't make me report you." June glared menacingly at the sandy-haired youth. Gary smiled stupidly.
"Aargh. You've won this battle, Miss Harper," he said dramatically, walking back to start working on his soup. "But tomorrow night, after the movie, you'll be singing a different tune, I think. Eh, my pretty? We shall see. We shall see." Gary looked back at the waitress and raised his eyebrows.
June straightened her black skirt beneath the thin apron and twisted her smile, as if questioning his provocative conclusion. "Tomorrow's another day," she finally said, and pushed the swinging doors to take her place on the floor.
"I'll see you wanting me, my bony-legged wench," Gary said, remembering quite well the night before last when June had come over to his apartment, when she had simply thrown herself on him. Gary breathed deeply, indulging his hunger by recalling vividly the image of June straddling him on his sofa, grinding her cotton panties over the ridge beneath his trousers, lifting her t-shirt up to press her little tit in his mouth. Gary sighed and looked out the rectangular gap at the restaurant floor. June stood wiping ashtrays, talking with Alicia. If only Steve hadn't picked that moment to come home. Gary adjusted his prick through his trousers as he stared at the thin girl, imagining the scrawny body beneath her uniform.
Gary put down his spatula and walked back to the men's room. Closing the door, he unzipped his fly and fished out his heavy dick. A thick stream of piss shot into the bowl of the dingy toilet with a gurgle. Gary sighed as he relaxed in the release. He shook his sturdy prick when a door slammed. Gary smiled. Reaching over, he turned off the light and knelt down, carefully working his head beneath the small sink. His paper hat fell onto the floor. Gary pressed his eye to the jagged hole in the plaster surrounding the silver gleam of pipe. The trap felt cold against his cheek as he twisted to get a better view into the ladies' room. She tossed a gym bag against the far wall and reached up to unsnap her jeans.
"Maureen's changing her clothes," thought Gary, "Sweet Jeezus."
Of all the waitresses, Maureen was the Queen. Gary licked his dry lips, watching as she unzipped the deep blue denim. Absolutely gorgeous and unbelievably bitchy, Maureen invariably collected twice the tips any of her colleagues managed to get. She was invariably attentive, thoughtful, and sickeningly sweet to the patrons. Gary longed to kiss the soft pucker of her belly-button as the creamy triangle of tummy appeared from behind the opened fly.
She reached back and began to pull the jeans down from the back, slowly over the tightly gripped hips. Red welts of constriction marred her waist where the denim had bit her smooth skin. Gary twisted a little more, pushing his face hard against the wall, letting his cock hang into his hand's grasp. The matted jungle of her pubic hair finally slipped into view and the jeans began to descend more rapidly. The thick scent of sex permeated the small bathroom. Gary's prick turned to steel.
Maureen stepped out of her jeans, while Gary stroked his cock steadily, amazed at the vision. She stood up straight and folded her jeans. The lips of her cunt were a dull red, puffy, wedged between the crease of her lean thighs. Maureen placed her folded pants on the toilet and stood a moment. Gary held his breath. Long, delicate fingers played with the patch of golden fine hair, combing the curls with her coral pink nails, working the snarls from the floss. Gary noticed a faint white stain, a dried dollop of salt just below her navel. Maureen rubbed at her pussy, a quick furious flurry, and when her fingers moved away, Gary stared at the pink nub of her freshly aroused clit.
"Mmm," Maureen murmured, grinding her hips slightly, "tonight he's going to lick me, or that's the end for him. I won't be left unsatisfied forever." Gary jerked his cock wildly.
Maureen turned around. Gary's heart pounded with a dangerous intensity as he stared at her round, high ass, white and gleaming in the sharp incandescent light. She leaned over to unzip her gym bag, pressing the scarlet lips of her pussy thick between her creamy thighs, glistening damp in the furrow. Maureen bent down further, and a short burst of air erupted from within her pink hole. A thick white drop drizzled slowly down her thigh. The dark dot of her asshole winked between the heavy globes of her bottom. Gary felt the excitement welling within him, anxious to explode.
Maureen stood up and stepped into her black skirt. As she lifted the linen up over the roundness of her ass, Gary noticed the heavy pink stain of fingered slaps over the creamy flesh of her right cheek. "Oh my my," he said, imagining some hung stud fucking Maureen from behind and smacking her pretty bottom. Maureen zipped the skirt and turned around as she adjusted the waistband. Gary smiled, realizing the import of the crimson circles below Maureen's knees. She sat down on the lid of the john and pulled black thigh-highs up the length of her lean legs.
Maureen lifted off her t-shirt as she stood again. Gary shifted to get a peek at the dark circles of her nipples, tightening in the cool air. Her heavy breasts hung low, full soft liquid tits drooping as she picked up her starched white blouse and lace bra. Gary rubbed his hard prick angrily as the last glimpse of Maureen's beautiful secrets vanished behind the cups of her brassiere.
"She's not wearing panties," he thought. "Wouldn't the guys go wild if they knew that." Gary stroked himself, delighted.
"Gary," said Ted as the door opened and a flood of light rushed into the dark bathroom.
"No," said Gary, trying to hide his throbbing cock while he stood. He smacked his head hard against the sink and fell back onto the floor with a scream of pain.
"What in the hell is going on in here?" he heard Ted shout. Voices of howling laughter and enraged shrieks echoed through Gary's aching head. Another light went on. Someone shoved him deeper into the bathroom and helped him to stand. The door had been closed, but the laughter continued to pour through the thin wall. "Get your pants on and then get your ass into my office," growled Ted.
Gary sat down in the plastic chair, his face blazing with shame, his thoughts lost in the buzz of confusion. Ted began to yell at him, profoundly, angrily, seriously, speaking a language of fury that Gary hardly understood. He heard Ted tell him he was fired, and he stood up to go. The other cook, Jack, ran over as Gary picked up his jacket.
"Were you peeking at Maureen? I want to hear," Jack whispered quickly.
"Back on the line, Sampson," howled Ted.
"Lucky shit," said Jack with a laugh.
Gary walked between the racks of cups, glancing over at the floor of the restaurant. June glared murderously at him. Gary tried to think of something to say, but pushed open the back door and stepped outside.
As he walked home, Gary's spirits sank. A dry wind bit at his face. He climbed the stairs to his apartment. Everything, it seemed, had gone wrong. Gary dreaded looking for another job, applications and interviews which would want to know why he had been fired. He could still hear the laughter, could still feel the heat of his shame. June would never forgive him. She cared too much about appearances to let something like this slide. Gary tossed his keys on his dresser and fell despondently into bed.
"Fuck," he said. "What an awful day."Gary hugged his pillow for a moment, trying to drown out the sound of the mocking laughter, the ridiculous moment when he had been lying on the dirty bathroom floor, his dick shriveling with the pain, hearing the girls screaming at him, furiously.
And he remembered the bend, the beautiful moment when Maureen had bent over to pick up her skirt, when the lips of her pussy shimmered just two feet away, so wet, so hungry, so soft and so fine. Gary unzipped his pants and he smiled.
Malinov
Power belongs to those who dare. Sapere Aude. | 4 |
6,996 | Girls Loving Girls Part 2 | "Hi, Lisa." Brenda held the door open. The petite seventh grader smiled and walked in, a small gym bag hung from her right hand.
"You guys are really great to let me come over," Lisa said as she stood in the foyer and looked around.
I could see her from the living room. She was dressed in short denim cutoffs and a Nike pullover. Her long blond hair was tied in a ponytail, and she wore white tennis shoes, no socks. Her legs were long and firm and starting to take shape; the two little mounds on her chest were developing nicely. Brenda was right, she did have a cute ass, and it definitely filled out her snug shorts. My pussy tingled at the thought of licking it.
"Come on in, Lisa," I called. She walked into the living room, sat her bag down, and plopped down on the couch beside me. "You hungry?" I asked.
"No, thanks, Karen, I ate just before I came over." Then she turned and looked at the TV. "What are you watching?" she asked with a startled expression.
I had one of my dad's X-rated video tapes playing in the VCR, the ones he and mom kept hidden and didn't think we knew about. I had located a hot scene just as Lisa arrived.
"Oh, this," I said nonchalantly. "We rented a couple of movies for tonight. You like adult films?"
As Lisa stared at the screen, two girls and a guy had just undressed each other. "Yeah, I guess," Lisa said, transfixed on the images. One girl knelt in front of the guy and put his dick in her mouth while the other girl crawled under her friend and ate her.
Brenda came over and sat on the other side of Lisa. "This movie is guaranteed to get you wet," she said.
"Yeah?" was all Lisa said, sinking back into the couch and slipping her shoes off.
"You don't mind if I turn the lights down, do you, Lisa?" I asked.
"No," she said, never taking her eyes off the sex on the TV screen.
As the movie continued, the scene got hotter: the two girls were doing each other in a sixty-nine while the guy screwed the one on top from behind. The girl on the bottom licked her friend's cunt and the guy's balls at the same time.
It didn't take more than a few minutes before I saw Lisa move her hand down between her legs. I tried not to let her know I was watching, but this was definitely promising. The hotter the movie made her, the better our chances of getting her out of those little tight shorts.
Lisa reminded me of some girls we had fun with last summer. Brenda and I were counselors at a girl's camp in the mountains. One night we wound up looking after six twelve-year-olds while the rest of the kids went on an overnight campout. It started raining, so the eight of us were stuck in one of the cabins. The girls were all restless and horny, and the conversation quickly turned to sex. One of them had smuggled in a copy of Penthouse and started reading the letters out loud. One story was about two cheerleaders who took a shower together and wound up making love. This brought a lot of suggestive comments about what would happen if we all showered together. Then we looked at the pictures and decided to vote on the best ones. The winner was a pictorial showing three lesbians in a hot tub doing what girls do best.
I was getting really turned on, and I told the girls I had to go pee. I motioned Brenda to follow me into the bathroom, and when we were alone, I suggested we sneak off to one of the other empty cabins and make love. To entice her, I put my hand down my jeans and slipped a finger into my already wet hole. I offered it to her, and she licked it clean, saying it tasted tempting. Then she pulled her pants down and sat on the toilet. As I watched her pee, she spread her legs so I could see the golden stream shoot out. We liked to watch each other pee, and I always got a tingle seeing her wipe herself. Lucky tissue.
As she pulled her jeans back up, she said that after what she saw earlier, we might have more fun staying there. I asked her what she meant, and she told me that two of the girls went outside on the porch to smoke a cigarette. After a few minutes, she went to the window to see what was taking them so long, and she saw them making out and feeling each other up. I immediately saw her point; my pussy moistened at the idea of eating something that young and sweet.
When we came out of the bathroom, the girls were still looking at the pictures in the magazine. This time it was a series of shots of a girl laying on her back in a bathtub letting the water shoot onto her pussy. Everyone agreed they had to try that as soon as they got home.
Brenda had a couple of joints, and we all sat around and smoked them. Then someone suggested we play strip poker. To make it interesting, we decided that the loser of each hand had to let another girl remove the article of clothing.
Brenda lost the first hand on purpose to break the ice. She picked me, and I pretended to be her boyfriend. I slowly unbuttoned her shirt, seductively sliding it off her shoulders. Then I went behind her, reached around, and playfully fondled her breasts, pinching her nipples through her bra. The girls called out for more and cheered me on. I pulled one side of her bra down and flashed them a nipple. This brought more cheers and applause.
I lost the next hand, so I stood up and made Brenda kneel in front of me and pull my jeans down. Like a guy shoving dollar bills in a stripper's garter, Brenda stuck a few playing cards in the top of my panties and asked me what she got for her "money". One of the cards was an ace, so I put it down the front of my panties and rubbed it on my wet pussy. I took it out and let her sniff. Then she passed it around, and the girls all agreed I smelled sexy. I told them they could sniff me for an ace and lick me with a full house. I'd go down on any girl that could come up with a straight flush. A couple of the girls frantically shuffled through the deck, trying to put the right combination of cards together. We were laughing so hard we cried.
Everyone really got into the game, whistling and clapping, yelling "take it off" or "go all the way".
I lost another hand. Brenda removed my bra and teased my nipples until they were hard and stuck straight out. Then she hooked her fingers in the sides of my bikini panties and slowly pulled them down until my bare slit was showing. Just the week before, we had started shaving each other's pussies. She tried to taste me, but I pushed her away, saying she only paid to sniff, not to lick. That brought tons of laughs and catcalls. I pulled my panties back up, telling the girls I hadn't technically lost them yet, but I'd still give them something to look at. Pressing the thin silk crotch together, I stretched it so it disappeared between the folds of my pussy; my lips stuck out on each side.
When I sat back down, I spread my legs so everyone got a good view. It made me so wet knowing seven girls were mentally eating me.
The effect of the grass was really kicking in now, and everyone was acting silly and having fun. The comments were getting very sexual, bisexual to be exact.
One of the girls lost the next hand. While her friend pulled the girl's shorts off, Brenda announced that all this was making her so horny she didn't care which one of us fucked her as long as it was soon.
Each time it was our turn to strip a piece of clothing off one of the girls, Brenda and I would "accidentally" touch them between their legs, brush their nipples or whisper something sexy in their ears.
By the time we were all down to just panties, everyone was masturbating, and the air was thick with the smell of wet pussies. Then a couple of the girls started French kissing and playing with each other.
One of the girls, a pretty little redhead with pink lace panties, had been staring at my partially exposed pussy for the last few hands. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes and the wet spot between her legs that she wanted to fuck me. Acting like there was no one else in the room, she stood up and slipped her panties off. Then she came over and sat in my lap, wrapping her legs around me. She held her panties up and asked me if I wanted a sniff. With our eyes locked on each other, I brought them to my nose, breathed deeply, and licked her girl-cum off the crotch. She smelled and tasted heavenly.Then she said that if I wanted, I could lick the real thing. We kissed passionately and she ran her hand down between my legs. The other girls were going crazy watching us, and the last of their panties flew off.
Brenda went and turned out the lights, and the next thing I knew there were naked girls everywhere. I had never heard so much slurping and sucking and moaning in my life. In the dark, it didn't matter who was with who; it was a pussy-eating frenzy. My little redhead was so turned on, the first time I touched her clitoris, she screamed and climaxed. I remember at one point having two girls sucking my nipples, one eating me, and one sitting on my face. It was so much fun showing them how to please each other. The best part was when we all formed a daisy chain circle and everyone "ate at the Y".
Eventually, we paired off and found an empty bunk. I lost count of how many times I came that night because the girl I slept with was having the first orgasms of her life and she was insatiable; we fucked for hours. When she finally fell asleep, I laid there for a long time with her in my arms listening to the erotic sounds of the other girls making love.
The next morning, I awoke from a wonderful wet dream to find my little redhead was back in my bed. She had her warm mouth on my breast and a finger in my pussy. I pulled her mouth to mine and she tasted delicious. She said good morning and asked if I was hungry. I told her I was starving and she giggled saying she had something for me to eat.
Then she got up on her knees, straddled my face and lowered herself down on my mouth. Soon, her cries woke up all the others, and it didn't take long before the sounds of girls loving girls filled the cabin. Finally, when everyone had climaxed one last time, we got up and came together in the middle of the cabin. At some point during the night, we had all made love to one another. Now we lovingly pressed our naked bodies together kissing and hugging. The girls would be going home that day so we promised that next summer we would have a reunion.
My little redheaded still calls me once or twice a month to talk about the night we made love. We always wind up masturbating together on the phone.
Thinking about how much fun I had with all that fresh girl-candy made my pussy ache as I sat next to Lisa and watched the porn flick. I was really turned on, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lisa rubbing herself.
"This is making me so hot," Brenda said and stood up. We wore only T-shirts and panties and Brenda pulled her shirt over her head. She slipped her panties down and slid them off purposefully bending over so Lisa got a full view of her ass and sex. Her nipples stood out like pencil erasers as she sat back down, this time right next to Lisa. God, she played dirty, I thought with a smile.
"What are you doing?" Lisa said. Her voice was more puzzled than alarmed as she looked at the naked girl beside her.
"I don't know about you," Brenda said, "but I'm so fucking horny." She started caressing her breasts and rolling her nipples between her fingers. "Does this bother you?" she asked Lisa. "If it does, I'll stop."
"Well, no, I guess not." Lisa was not attempting to hide the fact that she was rubbing herself now, and Brenda's beautiful, naked body so close to her only seemed to add to her arousal.
"I think you've got the right idea, Brenda," I said and pulled my shirt off. Without standing up, I slipped my panties under my ass and down my legs. Then I tossed them at Brenda who held the crotch up to her nose. "Smells like somebody wants to fuck," she said and playfully tossed them back at me.
"Are you guys always this . . ."
"Horny?" Brenda said.
"Definitely." I added.
"Sometimes we get so turned on," Brenda said, "we do each other."
Lisa's eyes grew wide as she looked back and forth at our naked bodies. The timing was perfect as the movie changed to a girl-girl love scene. It was obvious I had picked the right tape; there were two beautiful, young girls French kissing. Lisa watched intently as they got into a sixty-nine and went down on each other.
"Don't you just love having your pussy eaten like that?" I said as I looked at Lisa.
"I've never . . . ." she said softly.
Her little body must be on fire by now, I thought. Her hands were between her legs, her fingers fighting their way under the edge of her shorts.
Brenda leaned over and whispered in Lisa's ear, "That'll be a lot more fun if you take your pants off."
Without hesitating, Lisa wiggled out of her shorts and panties, and pulled her shirt over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts, the size of ripe plums, looked delicious. When her fingers went back to work, I looked down at the most beautiful little hairless pussy. Lisa's fingers moved in and out, her head back slightly, her breathing heavy. The sight made me light-headed.
Brenda winked at me and I knew what she was thinking. In less than ten minutes we had managed to get Lisa to take her clothes off and masturbate in front of us. This was too easy.
Phase two of our seduction of Lisa was about to begin. So far, it had been each of us doing our own thing. Now it was time for group involvement.
When the movie ended, I stood up. "I feel like dancing," I said and went over to the CD player. I put on a grinding rock song and moved back in front of the two naked girls. As the song started, I did my best slut dance; a lot of bending over and squatting down so Lisa could see what was between my legs. She stared at my crotch as I ran my hands up and down my body. Then I reached out and said, "Lisa, come dance with me."
She gave Brenda a hesitant look and then turned back to me, not sure what to do.
Brenda ran her hand up the inside of Lisa's thigh lightly touching her pussy and whispered in her ear, "Let's see how wet you two can make me."
I danced over and took Lisa by the hand. Pulling her off the couch, I brought her to the middle of the room and started dancing beside her. She caught on quickly and it was obvious she had a little slut in her too. Soon she was rubbing up against me, teasing me with her ass and sliding her hands seductively over her body and down between her legs. I could tell Brenda was thoroughly enjoying our little game. Lisa was definitely aroused; I could smell her pussy and it drove me crazy.
The song ended and a slow song started. Lisa took a step toward the couch as if she was going to sit down when I grabbed her hand and pulled her back. "Want to drive Brenda crazy?" I said. "Let see how sexy we can slow dance together." I turned her around so she faced my sister and pushed my crotch against her ass, pressing my tits into her back. Moving my pelvis in a slow, sexy motion, I placed my hands on her hips and guided her in sync with me. Lisa quickly followed my lead and we moved over to dance just a few feet in front of Brenda. My sister already had her legs spread and was masturbating, her eyes glued to the spot between Lisa's legs.
The music was perfect: slow and steamy. I felt Lisa reach behind and start rubbing my hips and thighs. She slid one hand down between my legs and played with my bush while she used her other to stroke herself. Then she closed her eyes and let her head drift back to rest on my shoulder. I kissed her neck and ear, whispering how fantastic her body felt against me. "Do you like it too?" I asked.
"I love it," she answered, never opening her eyes.
Her finger found my slit and I trembled at her touch. I lightly pulled her chin around and our lips met. I slid my tongue into her mouth. She tasted so warm and sweet!
We kissed as I felt her finger slide easily into my wet hole. Then Lisa let out a heavy moan. I looked down to see Brenda on her knees, her head buried in the little girl's crotch. My hands went up and cupped Lisa's breasts and I closed my mouth over hers exploring the inside with my tongue. It was all I could do to keep from falling, I was so aroused.
Finally, I led her to the couch and laid on my back pulling her down on me. She kissed me passionately, her tongue in my mouth. I pulled her knees up spreading her open for my sister. Brenda lay between my legs and sank her face into Lisa's ass while she fingered me. I ran my hands all over Lisa's body, trying to taste and touch as much of her as I could.
I was dying to eat her but I let Brenda have the first taste. I could tell from their moans that both girls were really getting off.
Lisa's hips ground into me and her breathing became heavy. Suddenly she let out a gasp and her body stiffened. I continued kissing her face and neck as the orgasm washed over her. She lay on me, breathless, covered in sweat, her eyes closed.
"God, I never felt anything like that before," she said after a few moments.
"Just the first of many, my sweet little lover," I whispered to her.
Brenda moved up and lay beside us, kissing me then Lisa. Our mouths were close and the three of us kissed together. I could taste Lisa's juice on my sister's mouth; it was intoxicating. I had to have Lisa or I was going to explode.
"Trade places, sweetheart," I said to her. She moved over and let me up. As I worked my way down the couch, Brenda got up on her knees and straddled Lisa's face. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Brenda's legs, pulling my sister down to her eager mouth. At the same time, I lay between Lisa's legs and spread her little-girl cunt open with my fingers. Then I put my hands under her ass, pushed her legs up and brought my mouth down on her. The sensation of tasting this delicious twelve-year-old was almost more than I could take. I ran my tongue up and down her slit, trying to taste her pussy and lick her ass all at once.I raised up to see Brenda, her head thrown back, eyes closed, her fingers caressing her nipples in a deep sexual trance as Lisa moved her tongue in and out of my sister. Lisa was totally ours now, her body completely overcome with the forbidden pleasures of girl sex.
We climaxed together and finally lay back on the couch. Our bodies were covered in sweat, our faces and cunts dripping with girl-cum. The room was filled with the smell of wet pussies.
After resting for a few minutes, Brenda said, "I'm going for a hot shower. Want to join me?"
"Sounds nice," Lisa said.
We each took her by the hand and headed up the stairs. | 3 |
7,001 | Stacy's Senior Year | "Do you remember Peter Jenkins?"
Sharon looked up from her position on the bed, where she was skimming through the latest National Enquirer. Gary was sitting in front of his computer with an old Greenwood school yearbook open in his lap.
"Huh?"
"Jenkins," Gary repeated. "Peter Jenkins. He was in grade twelve when you were in grade nine." He turned and handed over the old school yearbook, pointing to a picture. "That guy. He went out for Stacy for a little while, but she broke up with him."
"Oh... that's right. He's the one who got so drunk at the Prom that he vomited all over himself; they had to throw him out."
"That's him." Gary took back the yearbook and gazed at the picture. "He was fucked up over Stacy for months: a real basket case."
Sharon glanced back at her National Enquirer for a moment, but then turned her attention back to her boyfriend. He must have something in mind, even if it was taking him a little while to get to it.
Gary just stared intently at the picture for a moment, saying nothing, and then went back to work on his computer.
"Yeah?"
Maybe a little prodding was necessary.
"Nothing special." He hit the return button on his computer, saving some work. That done, he turned back to Sharon.
"I heard he was working up in Point Hope."
Sharon waited silently for the other shoe to drop. This time, it was not long in coming.
"I was just thinking," he mused, gazing again at the yearbook, "that maybe we're being a little greedy, keeping Stacy to ourselves up here in Bakersville. Wouldn't it be nice if we could get him back together with his old high school flame... at least for one night?"
NUMBER 52 - 56
The game was over, and the players had long since showered up and left the building. Biff Talbot led his four friends into the now-deserted locker room. Together, they made up the first-string offensive line of the Greenwood Bulldogs, the football team at Greenwood High. As offensive linemen, they had not been picked for their speed, dexterity or intelligence. No; they occupied the position they did on the football team because of their size. The smallest of them, Billy Paxter - "little Bill" - was 6'2" and weighed just over 240 lbs. He received a lot of ribbing on the team because of his size.
Being an offensive lineman, even a good one, was not a particularly glamorous position. It was pretty much all grunt work - "down-in-the-trenches" kind of stuff. The type of football that won games by attrition, not by spectacular solo efforts. Hence, all the attention... all the acclaim; all the girls went to the players in the flashier positions, such as the quarterbacks and wide receivers and the like.
Until today.
Grinning his big, stupid grin, Biff flipped open the door to one of the unused lockers at the end of the wall.
"Holy shit!"
Stacy flinched at the sudden brightness.
She had been crouched in the locker for almost three hours, ever since the end of the game when Barry Packard had hustled her into the locker room just as the final few moments expired on the clock. Barry hadn't been "using" her since early January, when he had started going steady with another girl at school, but he hadn't forgotten Stacy either. Particularly when Neil had "explained" a few things to him. At first, he had been a little depressed at the knowledge that Stacy had only been fucking him because she was being forced to do so. Then he got angry; the bitch wouldn't give him the time of day unless she had to! At least he was seeing Heather now. And, he thought, philosophically, Stacy was such a slut these days, he didn't really want to fuck her anymore. She was used goods. Who knew where her pussy had been?
Nevertheless, although he might not want her anymore for himself, he could always do favors for his buddies. Stacy hadn't complained when he told her what she was to do, not that it would have done her any good. He had been quite prepared to "insist". She had just stared down at the ground and nodded her head silently when he had told her what she was going to do; all five guys were "new meat" (Sharon's term). Each fuck would bring her closer to the end of her ordeal.
"Get in," Barry ordered, opening up a locker. "Hurry."
Stacy hesitated slightly - the locker was pretty small - but then she obeyed. Making certain she had a firm grip on the small flask (red wine this time), she wriggled ass-first into the locker, facing outwards. Her tight little cheerleading costume - green, sleeveless blouse and white skirt - rode up on her thighs, exposing her bare pussy to the open air. Barry, unable to resist, reached down and fondled it, slipping his middle finger into her snatch and wiggling it around. Stacy had not yet ingested any of the wine, and thus squirmed away. Barry didn't notice.
A few seconds later, Barry stepped back to take a look. Stacy was wedged backwards into the locker, crouched on the heels of her feet, with her thighs splayed open. 'Looking good' he thought. 'Just one more...'
"Hold on," he muttered, moving away out of Stacy's line of vision. Stacy waited nervously. The game must be over by now. Any moment there would be...
"Here we are."
Barry had returned with a couple of dildos a foot long.
"I know how hot you are," he muttered, bending down. "I wouldn't want you to get lonely down here while you're waiting." He reached under her crotch and slowly inserted one of the dildos handles into her dry pussy. Stacy squealed and tried to wriggle away, but the silver tube slid quickly up into her pussy until about eight inches of it was lost from view. Barry propped it up on the base of the locker. Stacy tried to push herself away, but was only able to move up about four inches before her head hit the top of the locker; she was now effectively impaled on the handle until she left the enclosed space.
Leering, Barry passed the other to her.
"This is for your mouth," Barry instructed her. "When my buddies open this locker, I expect you to be tonguing it the way you sucked my cock a couple of months ago."
Stacy looked up at him from where she crouched in the locker, her eyes watering with humiliation. "If not," he continued, unrelenting, "I'll have to complain to Sharon." He smirked at her. "We wouldn't want that, would we?"
A tear trickled down Stacy's cheek as she nodded.
"How about a demonstration?" Barry suggested.
Stacy hesitated momentarily, but then brought the handle up to her mouth and began tonguing and licking it. She closed her eyes as she did so, trying to imagine that it was a real cock; that she was anywhere but here...
FLASH!
Stacy's eyes flew open. Barry was standing in front of her with a polaroid camera. He took another picture while she stared at him in panic and then lowered the camera.
"Looking good," he laughed.
Stacy turned red, but continued sucking hungrily at the handle as she had been ordered to do.
Still laughing, Barry moved forward and slammed shut the locker door. Inside, Stacy pulled the handled out of her mouth and reached down for the thermos, wincing as the slight movement caused the unwelcome visitor in her pussy to grind itself in a little further.Stacy had remained in the cramped confines of the locker for the next three hours before Biff and the rest of the linemen arrived. It had been quite hot in the locker room, particularly as the boys were showering, and by the end of the three hours, her entire body was damp with sweat. Her skirt was bunched up at her waist, and the shirt of the cheerleading outfit, never all that concealing in the first place, was now plastered to her upper body, clearly revealing her rock-hard nipples.
She had gone through most of the wine in the thermos, more from thirst than anything else, and she was almost unbearably horny. More than once during her stay in the locker, she had been tempted to burst out and grab one of the cocks that floated so temptingly across her limited field of vision (there were small ventilation slits in the front of the locker), but common sense - and a good dose of fear - had won out. There were over twenty boys in the locker room. And she still had some pride left. Her sluttishness was not yet common knowledge at Greenwood, and she desperately wanted to keep it that way. Only another fifteen or so guys to fuck.
So, in the end, she had to settle for sliding up and down on the now-slippery handle Barry had stuck in her pussy. By doing so and wriggling around as much as she could, she managed to bring on several small orgasms in the course of the three hours as the boys of the football team showered and changed, unsuspecting, all around her. At one point, she was afraid that her moans would give her away, but she was unable to stop herself from sliding up and down on the metal "cock".
So instead, she stuck the second handle in her mouth and began to suck, thus muffling any noises she might have made. Three hours passed slowly...
"Holy shit!"
Stacy Richards squinted up at the surprised football players from inside the locker. Her cheerleading outfit was plastered to her sweat-soaked body. Her pussy, clearly displayed from in between her splayed thighs, sucked hungrily at the shiny metal cylinder as she slid herself up and down on it. Her hands clutched another metal cylinder - barbell handle, Biff realized - and slid it suggestively in and out of her mouth, between her shiny, wet lips. Her charm bracelet jingled quietly as she moved the metal handle up and down, all the while making quiet moaning sounds around the object in her mouth.
Biff tore his eyes away from this incredible sight and turned to his equally stunned friends.
"Guys," he chortled, "I give you... Stacy Richards. She's ours for the evening."
"Jesus."
They couldn't believe it. Stacy Richards; the Stacy Richards who had been flaunting herself in front of them from the sidelines these last three years; the Stacy Richards who had teased them, yet only gone out with the quarterbacks and other stars; the Stacy Richards of their dreams. Bill moved forward first, reaching into the locker.
"Wait," Biff told him. Barry had given him some instructions. "Just wait a second."
Biff moved forward and looked down on Stacy. She looked back up at him, tears of humiliation burning in her large, green eyes; tears of humiliation... and something else. He reached down and gently took away the barbell handle she had been sucking on. She moaned softly, but didn't resist as he slid it out from between her lips.
"Stacy," he said quietly, "is there something you'd like to say?" Despite what Barry had told him, Biff still couldn't really believe she would say it. Once again, he was surprised.
"Fuck me," she moaned, eyes closing as she ground the second handled deeper and deeper into her sopping pussy. "I need your cocks."
This was enough for the guys, and they surged forward. Biff, however, held them back again. One more thing...
"What do you say?" he asked the desperate girl.
She looked up at him for a few moments, but then glanced away, unable to meet his eyes.
"Please..."
"What? I didn't hear you."
Stacy looked up at him, lips parted. "Please," she said, her voice louder. "Please fuck me. I need you all; I n-need your cocks in me. Please fuck me... p-please shoot your sperm into me. Please..."
And they did.
Friday afternoon. 3:45 PM. The school cafeteria was almost empty, as most of the students at Greenwood had, typically, declined the opportunity to hang around the school after classes. The weekend beckoned, and, with the wonderful late spring weather, the beach was exerting its almost magnetic pull on the teenagers of Bakersville.
The cafeteria was not, however, completely deserted. Three students sat, quietly talking, in a corner table. Gary, as usual, did most of the talking. He was also the one who handed out the latest round of money from the sale of pictures to various magazines. May had been a good month for them as far as picture sales went. Stacy had now unwittingly adorned the pages of over a dozen magazines across the country, with more to come. It was only a matter of time before she found out - before someone in Bakersville saw some of the pictures and spread the news - but they didn't really care. Their time with Stacy was nearly done anyway.
The main cafeteria door opened and Karen walked in, followed closely by Ashley. The two girls had spent more and more time together over the last six weeks as Karen tightened her hold over the older girl. Like Stacy, Ashley was the victim of blackmail, and, as had been the case with Stacy, events had quickly moved beyond her control. Since the incident which put her in this vulnerable position in the first place, there had been any number of events which had deepened Karen's hold on her. All Ashley could think of was the end of the school year and freedom. All Karen could think of was how nice it was to have such a beautiful girl as Ashley as a personal slave, and how hard it would be to give it up.
If she gave her up...
"Wait here," Karen ordered, moving towards her three friends in the corner. Obediently, but not without a flash of anger, the tall brunette sat down on a bench near the door.
"What's up?" Karen asked as she approached. "Neil said you wanted to meet."
"Just the final plans for tomorrow night," Sharon told her. "The football party." She looked over at where Ashley sat, staring at the floor. "Everything's cool with her? Did she cause any problems?"
Karen plopped herself down beside Neil. "No," she answered. "No problem. We'll be there."
"Great," Sharon smiled. "I've got the perfect costume picked out; the guys are gonna love her." Neil chuckled at this, but Karen only frowned.
"Listen," she said tentatively, "she's not gonna get... you know... hurt or anything like that?"
"Ha," Neil laughed. "Just get her brains fucked out. That's all."
"No," Karen ignored him. "I mean like, beaten, or... well... you know."
"Huh uh," Sharon shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's just a party; the guys on the football team at BCN just want to celebrate the end of the season with a big blow out. Stacy was such a big hit the last time, they want her back again." Sharon looked over at Gary who didn't react. "I offered them Ashley as well because you said you wanted the money. They were willing to pay twice as much for two girls."
Karen looked undecided.
"There's not a problem with that, is there?" Gary asked. Karen looked over at Gary, meeting his intense stare for a few moments and then looking away.
"No," she answered finally. "I just don't want her hurt. That's all."
The table fell silent for a few moments.
"OK then," Sharon stated. "That's settled. You'll meet us at my house at eight to get the girls dressed."
"Yeah," Karen told her, getting to her feet. "We'll be there." This said, she turned and walked away towards the waiting Ashley. She walked straight past her and out the door. After a confused glance at the three teenagers in the corner, Ashley scrambled to her feet and followed her out.
"What was that all about?" Neil muttered.
"Dunno." Sharon shrugged her shoulders.
Gary laughed. His two friends turned towards him. "It's spring," he explained, grinning.
"Huh?"
"You know," Gary insisted. "Spring. Birds and bees and that sort of thing."
His two friends stared at him, blank looks on their faces.
Gary sighed.
"I think our Karen is falling in love..."
When Peter Jenkins had called to invite her to a party up in Point Hope, Stacy had jumped at the opportunity. Peter was two years older than her, and had been a senior at Greenwood when Stacy had been in grade ten. They had gone steady for a little while - about nine dates altogether - but Stacy had eventually dumped him when the current captain of the football team had expressed an interest in her. She had never really seen much of Peter after that; she knew that he didn't get another girlfriend that year, but never really thought about it. In her mind, the split-up had been entirely natural, and, if it bothered him, well... he'd just have to grow up a bit, wouldn't he?
Thus, when he called her up, she had not hesitated to accept his invitation. He had moved to the nearby town of Point Hope after graduation, where he worked as a clerk in a department store. For Stacy, it represented the chance to get away from her present situation; to go to a party with people who didn't know her and wouldn't force her to have sex with them. It sounded perfect.
She even bought a new dress for the occasion. A sleeveless green dress with little ruffles on the shoulders. It matched her eyes perfectly, and, she thought, it made her look a bit like a little girl. She had made a mental note to do her hair up into a pony tail.It was the sort of look that used to drive the guys wild back when she had enjoyed that sort of teasing. Now, of course, she was obliged, as often as not, to put out, so the cock-teasing was not as much fun as it used to be.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, she could be her old self. No one in Point Hope knew her or went to Greenwood. It would be just like old times.
Peter showed up at 7:00 PM as planned. It was almost a two-hour drive to Point Hope, so he wanted to leave fairly early. She had been ready a good fifteen minutes before he arrived, but she still kept him waiting downstairs for almost half an hour; it was just like old times.
He hadn't changed much. Always rather short, the last couple of years had seen his body fill out quite a bit until he was beginning to show a bit of pudginess. Obviously, the clerking job at the department store didn't involve much physical activity. Stacy felt herself sneering a bit as he led her out to his car - a somewhat battered Toyota Tercel; he was turning into a bit of a slob. The way he looked now, he couldn't be getting too much attention from any girls; that was probably why he had turned to his old high school girlfriend for a date at this party. No doubt he'd be so overwhelmed at having such a beautiful date as herself, he'd do whatever she wanted. What a schmuck!
The drive up the coast to Point Hope was not particularly scenic. The only nice part of the drive came just as they passed by the Point Hope Maximum Security Penitentiary and crested the hill leading down into the town itself. Point Hope was a quiet little town nestled against the beach below the sandstone cliffs. The view from the top of the hill was little short of spectacular.
Stacy, however, had seen it all before. Besides, she was having too much fun annoying Peter. The two-hour drive had been marked by small talk and long silences, but Stacy had quickly discovered that Peter was still easily upset by talk of their brief relationship a couple years earlier in high school. He had flushed an angry red when she had brought it up earlier in the trip, and had, since then, shut up almost entirely. Stacy, however, was enjoying herself immensely. She made a point of bringing it up as often as possible. By the time they arrived at the party, she was in a great mood, and Peter was quiet and sullen.
Peter fought to remain patient as he led Stacy up the walk to the front door. This had better be worth it!
He had received a phone call from a guy - some kid - at Greenwood, telling him something about Stacy's recent activities, and about her "weakness" for alcohol. The caller had suggested that once she had a couple of drinks in her, she would do anything, and that 'wouldn't it be nice if the two of them got back together for a date.'
Peter wasn't sure if he believed him, but it was worth a try. Stacy had been an incredible bitch to him in high school, and any chance to get even was well worth attempting.
Since the phone call, he had been experiencing this recurring fantasy...
Stacy quickly realized that she was overdressed for the party. Most of the guests seemed to be blue-collar workers from a local fish packing plant; the majority of them wore nothing more fancy than jeans and t-shirts. Stacy was the only woman there in a dress. She was also the only one young enough to be in high school.
Peter immediately brought her a glass of punch. When she sipped at it, Stacy discovered that it was a bit strong for her taste, but not too bad. She took another, longer, drink from the glass. The way things were shaping up at the party, a couple of drinks might well be called for. The whole idea of coming to this party with her ex-boyfriend was beginning to look like a bad idea. A little alcohol never hurt anyone; she finished the drink. Peter brought her another one and stood talking with her while she finished that one as well.
He asked her to dance.
At first, everything went well. The music was up-tempo and the dancing was fun, despite her inappropriate dress. After a while, though, she began to feel a bit queasy. It must have been the punch. In fact, she realized suddenly, if felt a little like...
A new song started. A slow song.
Peter pulled her close, into his chest; instinctively, she draped her bare arms over his shoulders and they began to dance, slowly revolving around the dance floor. As they danced, Stacy began to experience the now-familiar feeling of disassociation as the room started to spin. She closed her eyes and held on to Peter's shoulders, trying to fight off the dizziness. The drug! They had drugged her; Gary must have arranged this.
Panicked, Stacy tried to disentangle herself, but she was unable to do so. Her limbs failed to respond properly, and it was all she could do to hold onto her dance partner in order to keep herself from sinking to the floor. Around and around they went, each revolution sending Stacy's perception spinning, until all she was aware of in the room was Peter. There was nothing else; just a blur of sound and a solid object she could hang onto.
She felt the warm tingling begin in her groin.
"Stacy..."
A voice! Her eyes opened and struggled to focus on the face in front of her. Peter? Everything else was a blur.
"Do you remember going out with me in high school?"
Remember? Of course she remembered. Stacy nodded in the affirmative, still trying to focus. Why was he asking? The tingle in her groin grew stronger.
"We went on nine dates," Peter murmured to her. "Nine dates..."
Stacy felt one of his hands leave her shoulder, slide down the back of her dress and latch onto her ass. She felt that she should make some objection, but...
"And all I got was one kiss," the voice continued. "One kiss..."
The blonde teenager tried to focus on what Peter was saying, but the hand on her butt was making concentration difficult. She felt the hand pull away...
"One kiss..."
...and begin pulling the zipper of her dress down her back. She tried to wriggle free, but her arms remained wrapped around Peter's shoulders.
"I don't think that's fair. Do you?"
"N-no." Stacy discovered that she could speak, although even her own voice seemed distant to her. The zipper was now all the way down, and she could feel the cool air of the room on the small of her back. The feelings of arousal increased, spreading up from her crotch into her belly. Involuntarily, she ground her lower body against Peter as the dance continued.
"So," Peter continued, "we're going to work through those dates now. All nine of them. As they should have been."
Stacy tried to shake her head, no. Not here; she wanted him to take her to a bedroom or something... do what he wanted there, but not here. Not in front of...
"First date," he whispered, his tongue licking out at her ear. "A kiss would be nice."
Retreating from her ear, he brought his lips down against hers. She moaned softly, parting her lips, but he quickly pulled away. That felt so good, but not here. Please, not here.
"Second date," he continued. One of the straps of the dress slid off a shoulder. She tried to shrug it back on, but it just slipped further down her arm.
"Maybe some tongue."
This time, he thrust his tongue into her willing mouth. She kissed back, unable to do anything else as a wave of lust surged through her body. Oh god...
The kiss broke, but the dance continued.
The dance continued through the "third date", where he copped a feel of her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Her nipples hardened immediately when he ran his fingers over them.
On the "fourth date", he removed her bra, unclipping it from behind her back and sliding it off. By now, her dress had slid down off the other shoulder, uncovering her back all the way down to the top of her ass and leaving her breasts partly exposed...
More of the same on the "fifth date". Some heavy necking while mauling at her now almost-naked breasts. By now, Stacy was panting with lust, all thought of where she was and who she was with having fled her mind. All that mattered was...
The dance. She missed what he said on the "sixth date", but by the end of the "seventh", she was grinding her crotch against him with abandon...
"Eight date," he panted, hoarse. "It's time you felt my cock."
She didn't need to be told twice. Groaning with lust, she disentangled one arm from around his neck and reached down to his crotch. With an ease born of much practice, she pulled down the zipper and slid his cock free of his pants. It was already damp and rigid...
"Ninth date," he gasped. "You need to be fucked." He looked at her. "Beg for it."
"Please fuck me," she moaned. "I need to be fucked. Please put your lovely cock into me, Peter. Fill me up. Please..."
Peter could take no more. He had been dreaming of this moment for over two years. With a cry, he shoved her back against the wall, pulled one of her legs up, and shoved his cock straight into her dripping pussy. The dress, bunched up at the waist to allow him access to her pussy, fell forward, abandoning any pretense of covering her breasts.
Stacy didn't care.
Holding onto his shoulders, she wrapped both legs around Peter's ass and fucked him right back as he drove her again and again against the wall. She drooled and slobbered and squirmed out her lust, all the time moaning and crying for him to fuck her harder.
He obliged...
The last trembling vestige of orgasm rippled though her beaten body. Groggy, she looked up from the floor where she sat, propped against the wall. Just as she did so, a flash went off... and then another.
Dazed, the blonde teenager looked around.She was lying, practically naked, against the wall, her green dress a shapeless mess around her waist. A group of people - the guests at the party - were standing around, looking down on her and laughing. A few of them had cameras and were using them. She heard the words "slut" and "whore" in the conversation.
Were they talking about her?
Just as had happened before, the orgasm seemed to have burned away the effects of the drugs, leaving Stacy clear-headed and sober. Sobbing with embarrassment, she stumbled to her feet, her breasts bobbing merrily, clutching her dress around her as the crowd laughed.
Another flash went off.
The dress didn't seem torn, and she quickly had it back over her breasts, but she was unable to zip it up on her own. Eyes downcast, she pushed her way through the crowd, looking for...
"Peter!"
He was standing with a couple of guys near the entrance to the kitchen, drinking a beer. "What... what are you..."
He looked over at her and smirked. "I'd heard that you had become quite a slut since my days at Greenwood. I just wanted to see if it was true."
Stacy stopped talking and began to cry. Yet another flash went off.
"Stop it," she cried, spinning around to strike out at whoever was taking the picture. The blow missed, however, and she succeeded only in letting the front of her dress flop forward again. Two pictures were taken of her re-exposed breasts before she was able to cover up.
Furious, she turned back to Peter. "Take me home," she ordered. "Now."
Peter just laughed. "Are you kidding? Get home yourself, you slut." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. "Take this," he said, handing it to her. "There's a bus depot just down the block. There are buses to Bakersville every couple of hours."
Stunned, she held the ten-dollar bill in her hand, staring at him. Eventually, she turned and stumbled through the laughing crowd to the door, still holding her unzipped dress around her.
"And Stacy," Peter called out from behind her.
She turned; maybe he was going to give her a ride after all.
"You were worth every penny."
The crowd roared with laughter as Stacy, tears running down her face, ran out into the cool night air... | 4 |
7,014 | Psion | "She has potential."
The white doctors surrounded the small teenager who was laid across a sterilized metal table, making notes on their clipboards and adjusting the machines that recorded her progress. One pushed his glasses over the bridge of his nose and remarked, "I still think we should perfect this technology to work without a human."
Another looked at him, bemused. "Until we can find a way to translate the human mind into a code that a computer can comprehend, we will have to do it this way. The only thoughts we can get are the top thoughts, the clearest ones, the ones that are voiced aloud in their minds."
"But..."
"Hush! Yes, it's very precarious, but all of the living ones except one are dead now. The living ones were too dangerous. Not controlled enough. This way, we can turn the psionic abilities on and off."
The doctor with the glasses frowned. "Unless we lose control. You have to understand that we're dealing with human minds here. In every instance in history that the mind has been underestimated -- Hitler, for example -- we have been strongly defeated. I just want us to remember that and to keep our goals realistic."
One of the monitors started beeping. A tired, pale nurse glanced up at the doctors as she flipped it off, the look on her face somewhere between grave and grateful. "She's conscious."
The teenager started to open her eyes slowly, and then jerked awake with a start, sitting straight up on the table with a gasp. Her head was reverberating with voices, strange voices, voices that she did not understand.
She understood. But it was too much.
"Quick, turn the chip off!"
beep beep beep beep --
"Her mind is overloading --"
beepbeepbeepbeep
"I can't! Computers are going down..."
"TURN THE FUCKING THING OFF!"
-- She -- oh, so many voices --
***
"We've turned off the microchip for now, Raira. When you passed out, your temperature had shot up to 102 degrees and your EEG was going crazy. Now, as you know..."
Raira stared dumbly at the desk the tall ebony Baig sat behind. The chip was turned off, but the voices hadn't gone away. And there were voices now, muted ones, telling her to get away from this Baig, to escape while she could. He felt dirty to her. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and lifted her knees up, holding herself.
Her eyes were still reeling from the shock of the sterilized white and silver of the medical center, and the cold, bright room she sat in at the moment wasn't much better. Her head was almost empty now. The explosion of noise was gone again, and Raira hoped deep in her heart that it would never return, but she knew it would return. She knew what they were going to make her do and what they wanted her for. She knew she was the first in a long line of intergalactic spies.
"You're the first intelligent being we've done this experiment on, and I think we overestimated the power of your mind."
Raira opened her mouth, her dry, cracked lips creaking as she started to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why me?"
"Excuse me?" The man said, leaning closer to her.
Raira spoke louder, her voice squeaking and cracking. "Why did you choose me? What did I do? I've never broken a Galactic law before, sir, it was the very first time and I hadn't eaten in days" --
The man cut her off abruptly. "This is not a punishment, Raira. This has nothing to do with your stealing provisions, although it did help us to get in touch with you with the cooperation of your government. Rather, this is a privilege. All of us working here at the medical center would be delighted to have this kind of technology working within us. You were chosen because you are an orphaned Earth female, so you have no emotional connections with..."
Raira cut him off just as abruptly as he had. "Because I have no feelings? Because I'm not a Baig? Because I'm a freak? Or maybe because you thought I had nothing to lose?"
"Listen, Raira, I'm here to help you. Orphans have all but been eliminated from Earth in the last millennium. You were a rarity, you beat the odds, Raira, by millions of trillions to one. Why are you convinced this is an elaborate setup?"
She grew angry, her cheeks turning scarlet and her eyes flashing harshly. "Because it is! You're just using me as a fucking spy because you killed every fucking psion you had left"--
"Someone get the nurses in here, please," the man spoke calmly into a microphone. Raira started screaming louder and louder, screaming to be heard, telling them about what she knew, what she knew about them, what she knew about herself. Her final scream before they dragged her out of the door was, "I know what you're trying to do to me! I know you killed those psions!"
The Baig rested his chin on his hand, his brow furrowing. As soon as the door shut behind the hysterical Raira, he picked up the microphone again. "How the fuck did she know?"
"Beats me. We'd better watch her -- she isn't reacting the way we had anticipated," a disembodied voice replied from the microphone.
He chewed on his lip for a few seconds, and then slammed his fist on the desk. The desk shook underneath the wrath of the Baig. "We've got too much at stake. We'll have no choice if she doesn't start responding positively. There are other Earth test subjects."
The voice crackled in the air. "But, sir, we've only got a few days left. If we were to eliminate her, now would be the ideal time, sir."
He stood up and paced the office floor. "No, I don't think so," he mused softly, almost to himself.
"Sir?"
"We'll keep her."
***
She blinked as the artificial morning light seeped into her eyes. She'd been asleep again. She could still hear a faint trace of the voices echoing in her head, and she turned her head to the side of the pillow, trying to block them out again. She knew it wouldn't work. She hiccuped softly as a tear traced a path down her cheek, and she wrapped her arms around herself, curling into a protective fetal ball.
She was a psion now.
THEY controlled her, by a tiny microchip that was implanted just above her right ear. THEY wanted her to spy. But it wouldn't work, she wouldn't tell them anything she heard, and they would kill her, marking off another failure at getting the subjects of their totalitarian government to work against each other. Each other was all they had left. Worlds were shattered, in ruins, or uninhabitable for the next few half-lives. The Baig had taken over the Earth government when the humans had finally accepted them, and made a Galactic government that supposedly involved all the races in the universe. But all the races knew that you wouldn't get anywhere in politics if you didn't go along with the Baig, if you didn't pretend to love the Baig, if you didn't pretend that you weren't feeling disgust and nausea every time you looked at their pitch-black skin and gazed at the greenish tint of their teeth. But most of all, if you pretended that you didn't notice what the Baig was doing to the livelihood of the other races, if you didn't notice the Evil that radiated out of them, then you might get somewhere in your life.
Otherwise, be eliminated.
They'd almost succeeded in ruining the galaxy. They were close to succeeding now, and Raira was damned if she would be a tool. She'd known about their practices ever since she was a little child, when Earth's psions started disappearing one by one. Raira's mother had been one.
"They're killing us, Raira," her mama had whispered softly as she gazed out the window to an Earth that was not yet ruined by radioactivity. "They're plucking us out, one by one, to try and get us to spy for them. When they fail, they kill us. I can hear the other ones screaming in my head. I'm next."
Raira, not understanding, had buried her head in her mama's breast and wailed her hunger. The cool breeze lifted the window's curtains up, billowing into the kitchen, and Raira's mother started to weep with frustration and sadness as soon as she inhaled the fresh night air she knew she'd never smell again.
Raira had never understood.She hadn't understood even when they had taken her mama in the middle of the night. They'd done it silently, and they'd thought they were unheard, but Raira, a small child of seven, had woken up and felt the bond connecting her mama and herself being torn savagely, being pulled and stretched before it finally snapped and her mama was gone. She was alone then, truly alone, as so few people left on Earth were alone. She spent the next few days wandering the streets, crying for her mama to come back to her. Strangers would look at her and tsk-tsk sadly, remarking on what a shame it was, and whispered cruel assumptions to each other about who her mama must have been to be so rudely taken away from this baby. She'd been a street child ever since.
Well, now she understood. The chip had woken up a part of her that was asleep deep inside her, had stirred it and nudged it, and suddenly the dormant volcano became active with an explosion. How could she hear? The chip wasn't on.
The sterilized doorknob turned. Raira's head snapped to the side, her eyes narrowing in hate as she watched the knob slowly turn until the door clicked and swung open. The Baig was back, medical clipboard in one hand, a tranquilizing laser in another. He made a hand signal as soon as the door closed and locked, and with a burst of activity, her mind exploded.
"Are you calm now, Raira? You had a bit of an episode there. Now, I'm here to explain to you what your next mission is to be."
Raira turned her back to him, refusing to look, trying to block out the darkness that invaded her mind. He ignored the motion and continued to talk, ignoring her. "As you know, you can now read minds, basically. You can probe into them, take a look around. It's kind of like breaking into a computer system. Some minds will be simpler, some will be harder."
He took a seat on Raira's hard mattress. She recoiled away from him. His evil slunk around the room, moving with him, with his air. He looked straight into Raira's eyes and smiled. "Read my mind."
She shuddered. "I would rather not. I can smell your aura from across the room."
His smile darkened. "Read my mind, Raira." He lifted his hand slightly, letting her see the tranquilizer gun. She closed her eyes and WISHED, as hard as she could, WISHED to all the gods of good and evil alike, that she wasn't here right now, being forced to read a Baig's mind.
"You won't be able to get in, Raira. Our minds are too strong for you."
She slowly let her concentration focus into a ball, and then set it to float free towards him when it was large enough. She shivered as the ball bumped into a turgid, tangled mass of confusion and silence alike. She turned her concentration in another direction, where it met the same wall. She cried aloud in frustration, and PUSHED as hard as she could, PUSHED into him with all her mind's strength and then broke through his barrier with blinding speed --
He gasped and his hands shot up to grip his head in pain, and the last thing Raira saw before she passed out was the gun lifting up to point at her --
***
"All right, Raira, are we ready to discuss your assignment?"
Raira glared at him, silent. Her chip was turned off now, and her own psionic powers were still much weaker. She could still hear muted voices echoing in her head. They didn't know what happened to her, didn't know that the chip and the procedure and the whole thing had woken up the power she'd inherited from her mother.
She just had to get stronger.
She could overtake them.
She nodded slowly, peering at him through slitted eyes. He sighed, and leaned back. "You've been quite a difficult case, Raira. You should realize the gravity of this situation. The future of the Galaxy rests on your shoulders..."
_I shrug,_ Raira thought to herself.
"Now, this is your assignment. Tonight, you are to attend the speech of the Galaxy Prime Minister. As you know, he is up for re-election. All you have to do is sit and listen with your mind. Probe around a little bit. Is that okay, Raira?"
_As if I had a choice._ "Yes. That's fine," Raira said in a low growl. The Baig looked slightly surprised at the malice in her voice. "Raira, we know you can be a sweet girl. Why don't you be a little more nice to me in the future?"
"Because you speak to me as if I was a child, and then expect to use me as a spy. Because you're Evil," she replied in a whisper. He sighed and stood up. He offered his hand for a handshake, and she turned her head to look the other way.
He left the room.
***
She ran her hands over her dress uneasily, trying to get used to the feel of the fine fabric stretched across her skin and of her inner thighs rubbing together. She'd never worn a dress before, at least, not since her mama died. The one she wore now was a fantasy dress, the kind she'd only seen in holograms of fashion shows and prestigious balls. It was a dark shade of brown in a shimmering fabric that caught the light every time she moved. The dress had no sleeves or straps, and Raira still had no clue as to how it stayed on her body, defying the laws of gravity. She supposed it was her breasts holding the dress up, the slope of her mammaries creating an arch for the dress to rest upon. The bodice was cinched tight around her, and loosened considerably at her hips, sweeping to the floor in a graceful waterfall of silky fabric, flowing down her body as smoothly as if she was a tall whiskey glass.
Raira turned around to face the mirror, shutting her eyes tightly. Finally, she pried open a reluctant eyelid to gaze at her reflection, and both her eyes widened with surprise.
She looked nothing like the street rat she'd grown up as. Her body looked voluptuous and curvaceous, even though Raira had gone hungry most of her life. She supposed she'd eaten more in the last month than she thought, for now her curves were filled out and she was rather buxom. She blushed when she saw the prominent way her nipples poked through the fabric, and moved her hands over them, trying to get the nubs to deflate. Her hair was swept up in an old-fashioned bun and pinned in place with a diamond-studded hairpiece that she could see when she lifted a small hand mirror behind her and used the mirror in front to look at the one in back. Her hair was woven in auburn waves that the dress showed off beautifully, and in front, a single wisp of red hair cascaded down the side of her pale, freckled face. Raira looked closely at her face. She hadn't seen many mirrors in her life, but she was certain that this wasn't how she normally looked. Her clear, green eyes were surrounded by a smoky brown, and when she looked especially close she could see that the lashes were dyed a dark brown also. Her skin shimmered slightly in the light, and she could feel a powder of some sort brushed across her skin. Her lips were full and pouting, and while that was natural, the light bronze shade resting on them was not.
Raira turned around and took an unsteady step toward the door. Her ankle wobbled from side to side, and she almost fell when her ankle buckled and pitched her off of the side of her heels. She leaned down and sighed, slipping the heel back onto her foot. She stood tall now, her jaw set. The doorknob turned with clicking sounds.
"Raira? Your escort is waiting."
The small, mousy nurse who had peeked her head in the doorway of the classy bathroom had looked bored. When she'd caught a glimpse of Raira, her eyes widened. "My, Raira, you do look nice!"
Raira blushed, momentarily forgetting why she was all made up. She remembered herself, then, and squared her shoulders resolutely. She strode out of the room, still a bit surprised by the unfamiliar feel of the silky material swishing around her legs, caressing her thighs and kissing her ankles. She felt her body start to swing from side to side as she walked, her hips swinging out against the restraints of the fabric and coming back in a gentle circle. It was an involuntary reaction to the way the dress behaved on her body.
A handsome gentleman waited by the entrance to the ballroom where the nominations for presidency would be held in. A shock of noise slammed into Raira's ear, and her hands moved up quickly to block her ears from the sudden noise, but the noise didn't stop. She swallowed hard and grimaced as she glanced around at the thick crowd that was gathered in the hall and ballroom. He looked at her curiously, his chocolate eyes questioning her own, and she smiled shakily at him, standing awkwardly. He offered his arm.
"Oh!" Raira made a face and slipped hers through his. She wondered what other basic rules of etiquette she would forget on this night. He looked almost as nervous as she did, and she hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was morally wrong, before probing into the surface of his mind, poking into his thoughts without any resistance.
She was shocked. The surface of his mind was uncomfortable and warm and sticky, and unquestionably erotic. She probed deeper, wondering at the source of his arousal. He looked over at her uneasily, and she felt a new flood of arousal. It was she who turned him on! She chuckled to herself, feeling a bit guilty for finding humor in this man's discomfort, but she had to admit it was funny. _I guess that makeup and dress really did work,_ she thought, _because he's about ready to jerk off._
_God, I'd just die to have her fucking my cock..._ the thought was clear and passed through the mental link like electricity, clear even through all the mental noise of the crowd. She blushed a deep shade of red when she realized that he was thinking it, and another thought shot to her mind, but she blocked it out before it made it all the way. She wanted to enjoy her evening, and his thoughts were starting to make her uncomfortable.
***
"How is it going?"Well, at least we don't have to worry about sexual tension."
The voice was sarcastic, with a hint of laughter in it.
"Good. Keep monitoring her."
* * *
Raira crossed her legs as they sat and pulled out the fabric that was between her legs. She looked around at the inventory of people, Baig and Earthling alike. Rich, influential people who, together, cooperated to rule the Galaxy. The Earthlings who cooperated with the Baigs were just as bad as the Baigs - they were the evil ones of the human race. Hitler would have been a Baig. They were all people who ate a seven-course dinner every night, as they sat smoking with their friends, making small jokes about how the Galaxial taxes were putting them into the poorhouse. People who had looked at Raira in the streets once, and frowned, turning their heads away, tsk-tsking "What a shame... We need to rid our city streets of these vagrants."
She glanced around, and a man caught her eye. He was alone, and adjusted his jacket slightly before sitting down on his chair. He felt good. He seemed to radiate virtues and change. She tried to divert her attention away, but she couldn't. He was amazingly handsome, a shock of thick black hair resting on his head above his flawless features. He had classical looks, the kind of face that you saw in texts about Greek mythology. His face, while beautiful, was serious and contemplative.
The microphone crackled. Her head snapped up and about to look at the speaker on the stage, blue curtains draping behind them. Raira turned her head again, oblivious, to gaze at the man. Her escort looked at her curiously, turned his head, and seeing nothing, turned again to look at the man who had caught her attention so. She started to probe into his mind, feeling guilty, but too compelled to learn about him to restrain herself.
He felt refreshing, like a swim in a cool lake on a steaming hot day.
"May I -- excuse me, ladies and gentlemen --"
The pandemonium started to decrease.
"May I have your attention?"
He felt new. He felt like a baby.
"Please, ladies and gentlemen, Baigs and Earthlings..."
The auditorium quieted, its silence broken only by an occasional whisper, cough, or sneeze. The man wasn't mitigated by the monotonous tone of the speaker. Unlike most of the people in the crowd, who were calmly being hypnotized, their minds quieting, his own mind rose in volume and determination.
"As you know, the elections for the new Galaxial Prime Minister are coming up. There have, surprisingly, been no opponents against Baig Jo`uxy Jante, with the exception of Earthling Mohammed Azeledith. We all mourn his death, but..."
The man set his notepad on the floor and started to rise.
His mind silenced with clarity.
_He's going to change it,_ Raira thought. Joy leapt in her.
"Excuse me." The man was soft-spoken.
_He's going to run against Jante!_
"I'd like to make a proposition."
_He's our only hope!_
Suddenly, before her eyes, the man withered like a flower that went dry too soon, crumpling to the floor with a painful cry.
_No_
The audience erupted in anarchy.
"I'm a doctor"--
"Let me through!"
She stood and ran towards the man at a blinding speed, knowing it to be too late, but refusing to acknowledge the fact. His mind was blank, all activity ceased. No bursts of electricity crackled between his neurons and synapses, and no essence of good radiated from him anymore.
He was dead.
Her mind flooded with warm, wet tears.
***
"That was close."
***
Raira wept.
***
"Who let it get this close?"
"Briggs, sir."
"Well, damn it, if you'd been monitoring her correctly, we could have caught it before he even stood up."
"Sir..."
"Now she knows something's wrong."
"She already did, sir."
Silence. "Shit."
***
The gentleman walked up behind her and took her gently by the arm, his fingers cold and wet with anxiety. His brow was furrowed together in concern, and he pulled her lamenting form away from the death scene. The bustling nurses greeted them at the doorway. They were dressed in their evening gowns, looking worried and fussing over the small shaking body. One checked her pulse as the other found her temperature.
"Let's get her home. She's had a lot of excitement tonight."
***
"Okay, Raira. Last night was good, so tonight, we're going to send you to a place you might feel more comfortable in."
Raira glared at the Baig with hate, the very core of her being still cold and numb with shivering shock.
"We'll send you to a bar downtown for a little while. Don't worry, you're old enough to drink." The Baig winked humorlessly at Raira, and she felt her stomach reel from him.
"I'm a recovering alcoholic."
"Well, they have other drinks. But, we want you to relax tonight. Just practice your skills, get stronger and better."
Raira clenched her teeth together at the Baig's confidential, conspirational tone. Talking to her as if they were friends. As if they were kin Earthlings. "You can wear normal clothes if you want, if you didn't like the dress last night."
"I liked it fine."
"Well, that's a little... how shall I say, out of place for this bar. In your room, there's a closet. Explore it."
"I have."
He felt his irritation rising like an indomitable belch, and he fought to keep it down. When he felt himself starting to lose the inner battle of control, he stood and left the room.
***
Her outfit was simple, much like the clothes she'd worn on the street but less trashy, less torn, less ragged. The clothes were loose and familiar on her body. The old-fashioned soft, worn cotton of her dress hung listlessly around her slim hips, the fabric fading into a dark green sweater that ended just below her midriff, showing off the curve of her breasts. She tucked her crimson hair behind her ears and left the room. A nurse waiting outside the door gave her a perfunctory glance, and nodded her approval.
Raira was free for the first time in months, and yet she was not. She could walk. She could explore. But every move was being tracked, observed, regulated, supervised by the small demon seed behind her ear.
She walked out into the bustling street, the cars whizzing high above her in the brisk night air. She felt self-conscious for a moment as a stranger walked past her, his eyes analyzing her from the very bottom of her feet to the top of her hair. She shivered, and gathered her concentration, keeping her thoughts as close to her as she could. She didn't want to invade any stranger's minds tonight.
Not after last night.
Her boots clanked on the sidewalk as she trudged on toward the bar. She could see the bar glowing alone down the block, its conspicuous flashing neon screaming aloud into the night. Noise flooded her ears, real noise, real music, and the end of a song faded away and quieted. People congregated outside around the building, drinking, smoking, enjoying the crisp, cool air. They were all Earthlings, Raira noted with a dizzying sense of relief. Family.
She headed toward the door, where a tall, broad man wearing the bar's uniform stood. She gazed at him, challenging him as she pulled open the door. His muscles bulged and tensed against his shirt, and his mind felt hard and tough, but the rugged exterior melted a bit when she gave him a dazzling smile and passed through the entrance unscathed.
The bar was dim with smoke and colored lights. Seedy. There were tables and barstools and there was a luminous dance floor illuminated by dozens of different colors flashing and moving around the throng of people who pulsed and undulated to the beat. Their combined mindset was brash, erotic, and with a tinge of anger, bristling up against Raira's own mind. She felt at home now - this reminded her of Earth's seedy nightclubs she'd frequented. The crowd's mood changed drastically with the music, adapting to it as if it was the music that had always been playing. The music started to fade out from a hard, driving song, and became soothing, smooth, slow and calm. The crowd calmed. Raira closed her eyes and hummed along, her shoulders relaxing and her body swayed as she stood on the sidelines.
***
"How's it going?"
"Doing fine, Sir. She is at the location, and apparently having a good time."
"Good. We should have him nailed in a few minutes."
***
Her mind wandered free. She let the music lift her, and she drifted away on the gentle waves of the notes. The sense of peace and community brought her to a higher level of inner ecstasy, as her mind explored and wandered. She could tell deep inside that the chip wasn't making her feel this strongly. It was herself.
She opened her eyes and kept swaying, absorbed deep into the peace. Fortissimo. Quiet, haunting.
His hazel, inquisitive eyes met her own.
Crescendo. The music increased subtly in tempo, stepping up the intensity just a bit.
She gazed back at him. His mind was... clean, organized. Not jumbled.
_Don't think about it!_ The thought pierced through the air to her, the franticness of his thought punctuated with wide, fearful eyes, pounding into her brain with the force of a rocket crash. Her heart quickened.
The music went faster, louder. Piano forte. Climbing frantically in pitch. Forte! Allegro! Hard and fast, driving and beating, she was sucked into him. He was fascinating. His eyes gazed back into hers, and his face was soft in admiration, his lips slightly parted.
She went to him, pushing through the crowd in a dreamlike state, drifting on the cloud created by their mind forces. He smelled good, free of smoke and smog and alcohol. His mind felt good. She stood close to him, and moved her body to the beat, not particularly paying attention, absorbed in their combined emotions.
He moved close to her, putting his hands on her waist and swinging his body in synch with her own.She shivered in excitement as his cool, soft skin touched her cheek, a slight neglect in shaving caressing her surface. He whispered in her ear, his hot breath gasping against her lobe.
"You must not think about my mind. Just know I am there."
She understood, even though she didn't know what was going on, she understood what he wanted. She closed her eyes and let her emotions take over, her body dominating her senses.
He continued to whisper, and his arms encircled her waist, pulling her close to him. She felt dizzy with excitement.
"You're the girl I dream about every night."
She sighed, her flustered mind finding it a most difficult task not to think about him.
"In my deepest, most beautiful dreams, night after night..."
Ahhhhhhhh...
"These dreams that leave me wishing for abolition of reality..."
Her chest pressed against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she almost let her lips graze his neck, for they were right there, wanting to kiss him.
"These dreams that leave me soaked in my own sweat when I wake..."
His hands traveled down her hips and touched her thighs gently.
"These dreams that leave me lonely all day, for the companion of the night, for the presence of that woman once again..."
She kissed him on his neck. His skin prickled in response. His hands tightened on her thighs, his fingers digging into her skin. She was hot with needy lust, and light-headed with the gentle way he touched her mind.
"You're one?"
"Shh. We'll talk about it later. For now... let us dance."
And they danced, in every respect of the word. He held her close to his body, and embraced her mind in soft warmth, comforting and soothing her in ways nobody had ever done before. She'd led a long life that needed solace and rarely ever got it. She loved the emotions it invoked and reveled in them, able to forget, momentarily, that she'd once sold her body for food, that she'd once lived in a cardboard box in the worst parts of Earth, that she was trapped, a captive of the totalitarian government. She felt him stiffen against her, and forced herself from nudging into his minds, finding out what he liked about her. He sensed what she wanted, though, and started to whisper in her ear once again.
"You're beautiful. I've been watching you while you've been dancing, and I've been finding out about you, Raira. You're like a tragic heroine, and you're so strong, it's admirable."
She blushed and he looked into her eyes, strong and serious, and leaned close to her. Their lips hovered before each other, too shy to kiss, until finally, he lowered his soft mouth onto hers. He held her tighter and she wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself up to his lips, letting him seduce her with his mouth. His tongue flickered against her pout. She nibbled his bottom lip, and he ran his tongue along her lips experimentally before slipping the smooth, slippery warmth into her mouth. She took hold of his tongue with her mouth and sucked at it as if it was his cock, and he unconsciously thrust his hips against her, letting her feel his teeming hardness. She moaned into his crevice. Finally, they broke the exhilarating kiss, his breathing hot and hard. He continued to whisper.
"I know what they're doing to you." She jerked, startled, her mind racing like a ship gone mad and buzzing and nearly screaming in fear that the whisper had gotten through to the Baigs. He quickly reached into her panic-stricken conscious, and restrained her, holding her thoughts together in a tight, impenetrable ball.
"Raira, shh, it's okay."
She swallowed a gulping gasp and buried her head in his neck. He caressed the curve of her backbone, running his fingers along the thin ridge.
"I feel like I know you," she whispered to him, her voice trembling, barely audible over the softly playing music. "I feel like you've been here for years."
He smiled sadly. "Perhaps I have, and we never got a chance to find out. I'm the last one left alive, you know."
"Why did they kill so many, Jeffries?" She gazed up at him, and he smiled. "I didn't tell you my name."
The revelation dawned on her slowly, and her eyes widened in a laugh. "I didn't even try to get it from your mind."
He nodded to her. "I know."
She let him lead her off the floor and up a rickety stairwell, the steps groaning and creaking above the calm-again music. They walked together, their minds singing an ancient, forgotten tune, their feet instinctively working together so they wouldn't have to let go of each other.
She couldn't let herself think, couldn't let herself be sucked into the thick swirling vortex of familiarity she longed to be in. She knew it had something to do with the chip.
They entered a small, nondescript room. Posters of the bare galaxy covered the walls, and there were thousands of random pieces of papers tacked up on the walls. Some had come loose and fluttered to the floor where they lay untended. The scent was stronger now, his intoxicating scent. She was bathed in the warmth of it all. She was home. It was silent, for the room was soundproofed. The only sound was the beautiful music that echoed only in their minds.
He murmured in hushed tones still, caressing each word as it rolled off his tongue in a baritone that rumbled gently against her neck. "You have to trust me."
She nodded.
"I'll explain everything."
She gazed into his eyes, which were as green as the forests on Earth once had been, tinged with gold around the ends. Hazel, that color was called. His hands traveled up from her waist, squeezing and stroking her body. She could feel his mind aching, wanting to be with her. But it wasn't a wanting like the man who had been her escort yesterday, but a deep, true wanting. Love.
He nuzzled her, the cold tip of his nose making her shiver. He held her close to his beating, warm body, whispering to her.
"Close your eyes. Let your mind go blank. No matter what, don't let your mind interrupt."
He lay her down on his bed, the soft mattress recoiling with the weight of their two bodies. He lay on top of her, her legs spread around him, and buried his head into her hair.
The chip. He was inside the chip.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on seeing nothing but black, black as far as she could see. His hands caressed her and made gentle waves of warmth reverberate through her body. The sensation of his body pressed against her, of his mind mingling with her own turned her on. He was hard and firm along her body, and she shifted to feel him better. He squeezed her and kissed her neck. She could feel something happening in her mind, but didn't think about it.
His hand crept along her thigh, gently traveling to where their bodies met. He slipped his fingers underneath the dress, caressing her bare, warm skin. She shivered with the shock of human skin against her, caressing her, and then sighed with the intimacy of the moment. It seemed that only the two of them existed anymore, wrapped and bonded into each other's world. She shifted her body against him, wishing that he'd rub his steel hardness against her.
Quieter. It was quieter inside.
He rubbed the length of his hardness through their clothes against her mound as he simultaneously ran his finger along the band of her panties. She gasped as the tip pressed against her wetness that was concealed in layers of clothing. She'd almost forgotten that he could read her mind, could respond to every urge and need that reverberated through her hot, hormone-ridden body.
She moved her hands down from his back, where her fingernails had been passionately digging into his flesh, and ran her palms down his ass, feeling the firm flesh against her fingers. She pressed him against her, encouraging him, begging him mentally to rub against her harder.
He did so, his cock pushed hard against her clit, thrusting up and down against her. His breath was hot and quickened in her ear, and she responded to his motions by straining her pussy against him, hungry for him. She pushed harder into his mind, blending and merging with him, and together they were enveloped in a utopia of pleasure, drifting in and around the soft corners and bends of hot, pulsing sensation, closer and closer to each other. His need blended with her own, and her arousal heightened his, each meter higher that they flew, they brought the other one up twofold.
She could feel his excitement, could feel the sensations that surrounded his cock intensify as she drifted deeper into his mind. He let her in carefully, opening the entrance wider a millimeter at a time. He was hot and hard, pulsating, throbbing, wanting her. The knowledge made her want him even more, want to satisfy every need that he had.
Suddenly, she let up, driven by a hunger. Her hands traveled to the front of his body, feeling his broad, hard chest, and purred softly. She felt his excitement grow when she dipped her hands down to his waist and pulled urgently at his band. He lifted his waist up slightly, still nuzzling and kissing her neck, and giving her silent images of all the things he wanted to do to her. Her excitement surged, and she could feel his desire to give her anything she wanted. Her fingertips grazed the hard mass that was tenting his pants, and she slipped her hand in, past the band of his pants, grasping his cock. It jumped in her hand, warm and velvety and so unbelievably hard. Her mind was flooded with teasing agony of his excitement, and it drove her higher as they shared the excitement between them. He was barely able to control himself when she strained her pussy against him, turned on by his feelings. He could barely restrain from devouring her, and she liked that. Being wanted like this turned her on. They were caught in a delicious loop of need, hunger, and pleasure.She made a guttural sound in the pit of her throat, breathing hard through her mouth. With one hand, she caressed and felt his manhood, her fingers running up and down his stiff shaft and swirling around his silky head, playing with the precum that was running out of the tiny hole at the tip, rubbing the glans just below the mushroom cap. She wrapped her fingers around his cock, squeezing it tightly. He sighed in her ear.
The chip was gone. She was with him alone, yet the euphoric feelings of stimulation weren't gone.
She didn't care about that now, cared about nothing more than his taking her and making hot, rapid love to her. But she wanted to explore his body and his mind further, and when his finger pressed against her clit, she heard him think about what a wet, warm pussy she had, and his cock jumped in her hand. She squirmed against him and gasped when he responded to what she wanted.
He rubbed her clit softly, tentatively at first, and then stronger when her mind screamed in response. His mind was frenzied now, his excitement being pushed up higher and higher with every moan and twist she made underneath him. He released his finger from her clit against her protests, and she wanted to pull his hand back and have him keep going, until she realized that he'd known what she really wanted - his fat, stiff cock driving in and out of her.
She lifted her arms up and he stripped her dress over her head and she urgently wriggled out of her burdensome panties, his own quickly following suit. The discarded clothing landed, piece by piece, on the floor next to the bed. He lifted his body up and gazed at her.
"You're beautiful."
She sighed. "I think I'm in love with you."
He laughed softly, a tinkling music in her ear, a warm wave of love in her head. She loosened her mind from the tight ball it was before, letting it expand and float free around his mind. His mind grew more vulnerable as his guard let down. She could tell it wasn't something he did often, from the way that he had to coax and urge it to fade.
He was pulsating, sighing and gasping at her mental touches. She prodded and explored as he leaned down to suckle her nipple. She felt him roll it around his tongue, and heard him sigh and groan mentally at the feel of the hard nub in his mouth. She pressed against him, encouraged by his excitement, and pushed her bare pussy against his engorged cock, the tip of his cock just barely touching the outer edge of her clit. She pushed her mound against him and explored his mind again. She felt his consciousness gently, putting pressure here or there when she had an instinct that it would feel good. She realized that he was responding physically to her mind, and continued to investigate his sexuality. Finally, she embraced a hot throbbing rhythm of his mind, and pushed at it, working with it. He gasped and his teeth clamped down on her nipple. His cock surged, pressed against her pussy, and she moaned aloud at the sensation when his mind cried for a release. She was hungry for him, and her desperation was clear. She reached down and pushed at his waistband, tugging them the rest of the way down from their previous position on his thighs. He lifted an arm, not lifting his face off of her nipple, and pulled them off for her, his bare, hot cock resting heavily on her stomach. She squirmed underneath the touch, gasping in unrequited pleasure. Her body was enveloped in a needy heat. His cock touched her clit. She let out a gasping moan, shuddering with the desperation. She let her body work in conjugation with his mind's needs, and his face contorted in pleasure as well as her own. Her excitement mounted as his breathing grew harder and more frantic. _Raira I need you...!_
He wrenched his mouth off of her painfully hard nipple and bore down on her, kissing her hard, his warm, slippery tongue pushing against her lips. Their arms intertwined, hands locking together as he rubbed against her harder and harder, his cock becoming more and more lubricated by the trickle of sweet nectar every time her pussy lips and clit traveled the whole length of his shaft.
She couldn't take it.
_I need it in me..._ she cried in her mind, and he groaned back to her, showing that he needed her hot, wet flesh wrapping around his own as much as she needed his rigid piston slamming into her.
He untangled an arm from hers and reached down, gripping the base of his cock. He rubbed the tip at her entrance, and she bore down on it, moaning his name aloud when she felt his swollen head pop in, and he started to work his cock inside her with short, loose thrusts of his hips. She cried his name when her mind flooded with his arousal, and she could feel how it felt for him, her hot walls constricting around his long shaft, her juice smoothing the hot journey they made together. His head tilted back as he felt her own pleasure at his thrusts inside her, in and out, faster, harder. His body started to thrash with her own. She rocked hard against him at the sensation, straining to push her pussy against him, moaning and gasping. She felt so full everywhere, her mind, her heart, her sex. He pushed in to the hilt, his cock twitching inside, and her pussy clenched at him, pulling him in deeper, milking him. His mouth was open wide in excitement, and his eyes were narrowed as he gazed at her. He slowly drew his cock out and slammed it back in with the pounding rhythm of their minds.
"Oh, oh..."
Suddenly, his mind touched and then squeezed a bare, sensitive, needy spot on her own.
"Oh!"
His cock slammed into her and his pubis pushed against her clit, the hair tickling her. His excitement mounted, and he wasn't able to continue to hold back the rushing torrents of his heat when he felt her orgasm thundering toward her at ninety miles an hour --
"Oooooh, GOD!"
They exploded together, the fragments of their orgasm falling down around them like a star reduced to fine dust, and a softly shimmering, peaceful white surrounded and embraced them...
He still held her against his body when she woke, and she murmured assent to him. His eyes fluttered open.
"How did you do it?"
He smiled sleepily. "I changed a few wires around. It's off for good."
"Did anything get through?"
"I don't know. I doubt it."
Startled as she felt a tear trace a whispery path down her cheek, she leaned close to kiss him, her throat choking with gratitude. He pulled his body close against his. _Raira_
_Jeffries_
_I know you, Raira... I don't know how_
_I love you, Jeffries_
She wondered again how he, a psion, had gotten past the government's notice. He looked at her and she blushed, knowing he could read her thoughts. He smiled. He didn't mind.
"I haven't. They just don't know which one is me yet. All they know is I appear at this bar sometimes." The words were sudden and loud in the crackling silence of the bedroom, and she gaped at him in surprise.
"You should be dead, Jeffries, you know that."
He nodded. "They sent you here to find me. And you did."
"But..." Raira tried to gather her thoughts, tried to make sense of it all. "Why did you bring me up here? Why did you make love to me?"
He leaned over to kiss her as gently as a raindrop on the tip of her nose. "Because I felt an immediate attraction to you when I laid eyes on you. Because we're made for each other in the literal sense. You felt it, too, when we made love. When we came."
She nodded.
"For me, it's worth dying for. You're worth dying for. You're free now, and we can be together. But it isn't without risk. They could find you again. They don't know you're psionic, and may just let you go."
His eyes turned dark. "But not me."
She felt her insides melt, felt her heart choke and her eyes well up with tears. He held her close to his, her ear pressed against his beating heart. "Don't cry, Raira. I'll always be here."
"Why did they kill so many psions?"
"Because we were dangerous to them. They couldn't control us completely, Raira, even if we did willingly cooperate which no self-respecting Earthling would do. They were afraid we'd be able to bring down their government by reading their minds alone. They think of us as thieves, able to slip into their mind and steal their secrets."
She frowned, turning the idea over in her head.
"Their grip on the Galaxy is too tight. We don't pose any danger to them anymore. We used to."
False mirth once again returned to his face, and he winked knowingly at her. "Anyway, they have no idea it was me. Now, as we speak, they think you were just making love to some greasy bar hopper. There's no place in the Universe we can be free, but there are places we can hide. I have a ship... we can go anywhere you desire."
"Like?" She snuggled against him, reveling in the hard warmth of his body.
"A distant, remote star system, far off into the heavens..." his eyes grew starry. "BN-4, perhaps. Or Albion. Or Kini-Wa."
He nuzzled her and his lips nipped at her. "Or heaven, right here with you."
A slow smile crept across her face and she kissed him happily, clasping his body close to hers. They lay there, asleep in each other's naked arms and minds, until the morning sun came with its brash illumination.
"She's still not back yet."
"All right. Proceed."
Their minds danced together, twirling around, playing, laughing. Finally, they woke, blinking their eyes against the harsh light. Raira pressed her body against his, and they lay together in silence, feeling the soft, bare skin interacting. Raira broke the spell of mind play by kissing him before she rolled out of bed. He moaned softly when she left, taking her warm comfort with her, and she giggled, staring into his eyes, infatuated.
"Are we leaving tonight?" she asked quietly, the hint of a smile teasing her lips.
"Today, dearie. This morning," Jeffries whispered."Where do you want to go?"
A sad look took over Raira's pretty, delicate features. "A planet that looks like what Earth used to." Tiny, uncontrollable pools welled up in her big, green eyes.
"Oh, hon..." he got up with an effort and embraced her. They stood, naked, in the cold morning, their bare feet recoiling against the hard vinyl bedroom floor. He rocked her in his arms, and she held back her tears, opening her eyes wide, refusing to let them spill over onto her pale cheeks. She felt him comfort her, felt him tell her, "It's okay to cry... I cry..." She felt him gulp against her body, and she felt his spirits start to sink with hers. She resolved to cheer up and gazed up at him, her eyes firm and resolute.
"Here, I know something that'll make you feel better," he told her, in a tone that let her know he wasn't taking no for an answer. "I know a planet we can go to. Why don't you go and get some clothes, a lot of clothes, and food, and come back in a few hours? We'll leave from my ship. It's small, but..."
"No space is too small with you." She smiled and pressed her ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. They stood for a few minutes, leaning against each other, before he gently pried her off of him with soft laughter.
He stepped over to the tiny plastic dresser, opening the top drawer, one hand still holding her waist, fingers sunk amiably in her hip's flesh. He took out a thick wad of money and handed it to her. She started to protest.
Jeffries blocked the protest from her mind, kept it from forming on her lips. She suddenly felt as if she'd been bounced back. The phrase, 'I'm rubber and you're glue...' came to her mind, and she chuckled. "Thank you."
Raira dressed in the clothes she'd been in yesterday, a slight smell of excitement clinging to them, a scent that made her giddy and warm inside. She bent over to pull on her socks, and she laughed when she lifted her head up to see his cock hardened and pointing at the sky. She wiggled her ass appealingly at him, letting his eyes travel up and down the length of her ass, before she stood up straight and stood by the door with a lingering glance. She didn't want to leave.
"Now get out of here," he told her with a sheepish grin, chasing her off. She closed the door reluctantly behind her, slipping the wad of bills inside the lining of her bra.
***
"Is he in position yet?"
"Yes. Awaiting approval from proxy."
"Fuck approval. Go now."
***
A silent scream reverberated throughout the silent universe.
***
Raira's fingers fumbled at the cold brass doorknob, frantically trying to fit the key into the hole with her trembling hands. The lock clicked. The door swung open. The scene that greeted her broke her heart.
He lay in the middle of the floor. Dead, naked as the day he was born, his arms, his chest, his face, the blood no longer pumping through the veins, his fingers, his lips, his legs, his heartbeat gone. She fell to her knees and screamed in agony, choking on her own misery, strangling as the darkness of hopelessness closed in around her, its cold, unwelcome fingers caressing her, molesting her.
Suddenly, noise thundered and pounded through her head. Her tear-stained face jerked up in surprise, eyes hard and angry, hands clenched into fists.
The Baig sat on the bed, a malicious grin splayed across his face.
"You!" she cried, her wail of torment echoing off the walls of the small apartment. He just grinned harder at her, his lime-tinted teeth glinting in the light. She tried desperately to shut down the chip again, to stop the noise and the Baig invasion of her mind.
"Why?"
He didn't answer her.
Louder, this time. "WHY?!"
He looked down at her and tsk-tsked his tongue in pity. "Poor you. Down on your knees, clutching the dead body of the only person who ever cared about you. He told you why."
"He never hurt anybody, and you know it!"
"Nevertheless, we know something even better now, and he told us."
She was blinded with confusion. "No. He couldn't have been working with you."
His laugh echoed through the cold air. "No! He wasn't working with us, god forbid, we gave up on psions decades ago..." his words slowed, and his eyes slitted as he glared down at her.
The chip flicked off.
"So, you're a psion, eh? This changes things a bit."
She shook her head. "No. No!"
The Baig cracked his knuckles nonchalantly. "You can't deny it now. We did a little test on you that we never even thought of doing before we implanted the chip. Little Orphan Raira is a psion."
A deadly calm washed over her, bathing her in the soothing, salty waves, as she finally arrived on her mind's shore. She smiled wryly and lowered her head to her lover's chest. She let her psionic powers accumulate, and they flew together slowly at first, gaining speed, concentrating into a tiny ball that had enough power to explode an atomic bomb.
Yes, she was powerful enough.
Her mind burst into millions of pieces, shattering her soul. The Baig gasped in shock as the fragments of her short, confused life flew wildly about the Galaxy, spinning and spinning into the infinite blackness. Finally, she had the peace she'd always wanted and needed. | 4 |
7,017 | LOVE BOAT: Cum Aboard | "Hey, no minors behind the bar," Isaac said. His dark face was stern, but Vicki could hear the teasing in his voice.
"It's OK," she said, smiling up at him. "Dad... I mean, Captain Stubing, said I could clean up back here. Actually, he ordered me to." She giggled as she backed away from the bar's overhang and stood up. "I wanted some spending money for when we reach the island, and he said I had to earn it."
Isaac smiled broadly. "Well, then, get to it, girl," he said, and walked back to the far end.
With a grimace, Vicki squatted down again and crawled under the bar, pushing her dust rag into the nooks and crevices.
She was concentrating on getting all the way into the tight corners of the narrow shelves, so she wasn't aware at first of the three girls who had climbed up on the high stools at that end of the gleaming wooden bar. It was only when one of them spoke Vicki's name that she lifted her head in surprise -- only to bang it on the bottom of the bar's top. She sank down, rubbing her head.
The girls must not have heard the thump over the clanging and banging of the calypso band nearby. They kept chatting, talking loud enough to be heard over the music even down where Vicki was.
"I know, she's just so dumb, isn't she? Like, really, who does she think she is? Walking around in that stupid uniform half the time? Like, I'm sure, she's, like, driving the boat, right?"
The shrill, whiny voice set Vicki's teeth on edge. As she struggled to decide between getting up to confront the girls or staying quiet to hear it all, another one chimed in.
"Like, for sure. And did you see what she was wearing yesterday? Like, gag me with a spoon! A one-piece! Like, nobody wears one-pieces except old ladies and fatties. Gross!"
Under the bar, Vicki looked down at herself. She had on a loose-fitting pullover and a pair of shorts, both in a riotous pastel pattern. She poked at her stomach. Maybe it wasn't as flat as some, but she was a long way from the plump kid she was when she first got on the boat three years ago -- or was it four now? Her musings were interrupted by more chatter from above.
"Like, you are so right! Can you believe she actually tried to TALK to us? To US?" All three girls burst into laughter. "Like, we're going to waste our time talking to some fat baby who probably hasn't even done it, like, once? Like, come ON! She probably couldn't even get a guy to kiss her!"
"Like, yeah!" said another girl. "Like, she'd go, 'Oh, I love you, let's do it,' right? And he'd go, like, 'Grody to the max, babe!'"
With another burst of laughter, the girls finally got Isaac's attention, and he strode down to their end of the bar and poured a round of Diet Cokes.
As they left, he heard a snuffling sound from underneath the bar. He bent down and saw Vicki, sitting on the floor with her knees tucked up to her chin.
"Hey, what's wrong, girl?" He reached out a hand and helped her to her feet.
"Nothing," she said, gulping back a sob. Turning her back, she slipped through the doorway to the corridor. Isaac looked after her, puzzled. "What about the cleaning?" he called out.
"I'll finish it later," she shouted back to him as she scurried away.
It was much later, just after the bar closed for the night, that Vicki slipped back in. She was embarrassed about what had happened earlier, so she said nothing to Isaac, who had his back to her as he polished glasses and set them on the bar top. When a couple of wine glasses tinked together as she moved them aside to dust, however, he turned around.
"Vicki! I didn't hear you come in. How are you feeling?"
She mumbled a reply and kept on with her dusting, but Isaac had been a bartender too long to give up so easily. With gentle questions and subtle proddings, he worked her around into one of the bar stools and soon she was pouring out her heartache.
As Isaac knew, Vicki had first come aboard as a pudgy 12-year-old, happy and giggly but more of an ornament than a real part of the crew.
In time, she had become a cherished member of the boat's family, not just because she was the captain's daughter, but more because she had been a friend to so many others. And she had grown into young womanhood, losing her baby fat and blossoming into a comely maiden.
But, her sobs made clear, inside that shapely body remained the heart of a fat girl, forcing cheerfulness but always desperately afraid that people would stop liking her.
Probably spending so much time among the perfect bodies on display on a cruise ship hadn't helped, Isaac suggested. "You're a beautiful young girl," he told her, "really you are. OK, you're not as thin as some of these kids hanging around the pool, but so what? You look great just the way you are!"
Vicki blinked back a few tears as she looked across the bar at him. "Sure, you say so. But you're my friend. You have to say that. Just look at the way all the boys hang around all those girls at the pool. They don't hang around me that way."
"Maybe they're just too dumb to appreciate you," Isaac said, taking hold of her hands to grab her attention. "They're kids! At this age, all boys know is what they see on TV and in the movies. Give them a couple of years until they outgrow it. Then you'll see. It takes a mature man to appreciate what you have to offer."
Vicki laughed bitterly. "By the time they appreciate me, I'll be too old to care! Isaac, I haven't even had more than a few kisses, and most of those were just pecks. Every other girl my age who comes on this boat has had romances and, well (she ducked her head down) -- well, they've been around." She looked up suddenly, blushing deeply when she found herself staring directly into his eyes. "I mean -- I mean -- oh, Isaac, don't you understand? I'm a virgin and they all know it. I can feel their eyes when I walk by. They can see it, I just know it! And they laugh at me." Pulling her hands free, Vicki dropped her head to the bar top and sobbed uncontrollably.
Isaac came out from behind the bar and, taking hold of Vicki's shoulders, led her over to one of the bar's couches. He sat down beside her and rested her head on his broad shoulder, patting her back as her sobs slowly diminished.
Finally she got back her control and pulled back. The vinyl upholstery crackled slightly as she squirmed her way into the corner of the couch.
Isaac reached out a hand and tenderly raised her chin, bringing their eyes together.
"It's really important to you, isn't it?"
Vicki blinked in uncertainty, but then her lips slowly parted. "You mean -- yes, yes it is." She ducked her head and seemed to be on the verge of tears again."Well, if it's that important, then as your friend there's only one thing I can do," he said. Vicki raised her head, and her mouth fell open in shock.
Isaac was unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his smooth, brown chest. He tossed the shirt aside and reached out to the young girl, who was paralyzed. Smoothly, he undid the few buttons below her collar and pulled the shirt up. In a daze, Vicki lifted her arms and let him lift it free.
Bending toward her, Isaac pressed his lips to hers. His curly mustache tickled her face, but soon she was paying more attention to the hot tongue pushing its way between her lips. He pushed her back on the couch, and she trembled as she felt his chest make contact with hers.
At last, he broke the kiss. "Oh, Isaac," Vicki whispered.
He silenced her with a finger to her lips. "Hush, girl. If we're doing anything you don't want, you just tell me. But if not, you just lay back and enjoy. I'll show you how much a real man appreciates a woman like you."
Vicki closed her mouth and lay back. Deftly, Isaac unhooked her bra and drew it away, exposing her small, firm breasts, capped by nipples quickly growing firmer. He drew first one, then the other into his mouth, nibbling and licking at them. Vicki began to writhe in delight.
Then Isaac moved lower, slipping her shorts and panties off and tossing them aside. Gently spreading her legs, he began to lick his way up her thighs. When at last his tongue reached her cunt, her tunnel was already hot and wet with her secretions. She let out a long, deep sigh as he spread her open with his hands and slid his tongue into her.
His attentions quickly had her gasping and bucking, but she knew she wanted more. Grabbing his shoulders, Vicki pulled Isaac up to her and kissed him deeply.
"I want you," she said, and her voice was deep and firm. "I want you, oh, God, I want you now!"
Without another word, Isaac got to his knees and pulled down his shorts. A long, thick black cock sprang free. Vicki stared at it, fascinated, as Isaac yanked his shorts down the rest of the way and kicked them off.
"Will you ... be gentle?" she said, as he moved forward and began to rub the head of what looked to her like an enormous dick against her pussy lips.
"Always, girl, always," he said, and moved it in. Her lips parted easily, but still she gasped again as the thick rod spread her apart. A quick thrust broke her maidenhead easily, and soon she was eagerly meeting his every thrust with one of her own.
Isaac propped himself on his strong arms as he plunged into her tunnel again and again. Vicki's young body twisted underneath him as she bucked her hips up, trying to take him in deeper and deeper on every thrust.
"You're no virgin, now, girl," Isaac grunted as he pounded away.
Vicki smiled, almost a grimace as his cock sent shockwaves through her. "I'm glad it was you," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "I've always watched you at the bar. You knew that, didn't you? Your hot, black body, so strong and smooth. I think I wanted you from the first.
"And now I've got you!" She grabbed him and pulled his face to hers, plunging her tongue into his mouth in a lingering kiss. Her legs rose, and it seemed that his cock buried even deeper into her.
"And I want all of you," she said as they broke their kiss. "I want all of your cock in me! I want you to fuck me harder! Please! Please, fuck me!"
The harsh words coming from Vicki's sweet mouth drove Isaac's passion higher, and he began to slam into her. The couch was becoming slick with their sweat and juices, and Vicki's body began to slide around under the pounding. At last, Isaac pulled her up to him and sat back, his cock still plunged deep into her.
His hands massaged her small breasts as she rose and fell above him, wiggling a bit on each downstroke when she saw that it pleased him.
And then Isaac took hold of her around the waist and began to lift and lower her, faster and faster, until he bellowed out, "I'm coming, girl!"
"Yes, Isaac," Vicki shouted back to him, her lips only inches from his contorted face. "Cum in me! Fill me up! I want all of you! Oh, fuck, I want it all!"
Isaac's hot cum exploded out of him, jetting into her eager cunt and spilling out the sides.
As his cock began to shrink, Vicki continued to ride him. "Not yet," she urged him, "not yet! Please, I want more!"
Isaac lifted her off him as she protested. "I've got no more," he insisted, but Vicki eagerly grabbed for his cock, rubbing the slick rod desperately.
Even as Isaac tried to push her away, his cock began to stiffen again -- not much, but enough to make Vicki smile up at him smugly. "See? I think you've still got some left in you!"
Isaac sprawled back onto the couch, laughing. "OK, girl, maybe you're right," he said. "But you've got to help. Here, let me show you."
He pulled her hands away from his cock, motioning her to bend over it instead.
"Now purse your lips," he said, but Vicki opened her mouth wide instead.
"You want me to put that in my mouth?" she said, her eyes opening wide.
"I did it for you," he reminded her.
Vicki nodded and bent down. Under Isaac's instructions, she pursed her lips. Holding his cock in both hands, she slowly sucked the tip into her mouth. As he led her through it, she licked and sucked and stroked. His cock began to thicken under her ministrations, until she couldn't take it all into her mouth. Still, she kept up a rhythm, her face bobbing up and down over Isaac's lap as her short brown hair formed a curtain around her busy mouth.
Then Isaac pulled her off and had her kneel facing the end of the couch. He crawled up behind her and inserted his now-stiff cock into her throbbing cunt again. Bending down, he began to massage her ripe breasts as his dick slid deep into her. Vicki's ass moved with him, forcing him into her to the hilt. The bristly patch of hair above his cock scraped against her butt cheeks as he drove his rod into her.
This time they came in unison. Isaac groaned deeply as another stream of cum burst out. Vicki was quieter, but her body arched and writhed for several minutes until she collapsed to the couch, Isaac dropping on top of her and then rolling to one side.
The next morning, Vicki slipped away from the chores her father had assigned and dropped in on Isaac at the bar. She caught his eye as she walked past the stools and sat down on a couch -- their couch. A strong odor rose; she quickly recognized it as the industrial-strength cleanser Isaac kept behind the bar. She smiled.
It was a busy morning, so it was several minutes before Isaac could break away from the customers at the bar and come over to her. He had a worried look on his face.
He bent down to talk to her, but Vicki spoke first, keeping to a whisper. Isaac had to keep his ear close to hear her over the band, and she playfully licked him. He jumped back, rubbing his ear and then quickly pulling his hand away and looking around quickly. No one else seemed to notice. He moved back, but kept a safe distance from Vicki's mouth.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, frowning as she saw his long face. "I just couldn't help myself. Look, I ..."
Isaac broke in, speaking quickly as he noticed one of the customers at the bar turn around and wave an empty glass at him. "I can't talk long. But I'm glad you came in. There's something I need to tell you. I ..."
This time Vicki interrupted. "I know what it is. You want to tell me that it was a one-time thing and you don't want to have an affair with me. Hey, that's OK, Isaac. I understand." Even as she spoke, Isaac could see her blinking back a tear. Over his shoulder, he heard a shout from the bar.
"OK, OK, I'm coming," he called, but turned back to Vicki. She was smiling mysteriously, and suddenly Isaac realized what he'd said. He smiled briefly, then set his face in a serious pose. "This is serious. We'll talk about that -- that other thing later. But I wanted to tell you to get down to the Doc. Now that you're, uh, experienced, he should be giving you something. You know."
Vicki's eyes glistened. "The Pill?" Her voice cracked. "Isaac, does that mean ... ?"
"Not now," he said. "We'll talk later. Sorry. Gotta go."
Vicki had to run off, too; she knew Captain Stubing would be coming around soon to see how she was doing. Her chores kept her occupied most of the day, but late in the afternoon she finished and made her way down to the doctor's office. | 4 |
7,033 | Girls Loving Girls part 1 | "Karen, I'm going for a hot shower," Brenda said as the movie ended. "Want to join me?" She got up from the couch and stretched her arms over her head; her breasts pushed her T-shirt out as it rode up, exposing her bare navel and tiny bikini panties. It was Saturday, and our parents were away for the weekend. My seventeen-year-old sister and I (I'm sixteen) had decided to spend the evening at home watching TV. The main reason: neither one of us had a date.
"Sounds inviting," I said. "You get started while I clean up." I watched her head up the stairs, her long, tanned and slim legs, her bare feet padding on the carpet. Then I picked up the empty popcorn bowls and soda glasses and went to the kitchen. The movie we rented was sexy with lots of nudity. Brenda and I had been lying on each end of our large living room couch. My hand had slipped down between my legs a few times during the really hot scenes, and I could tell from Brenda's squirming that she was enjoying herself too. By the end of the movie, I was definitely turned on and wet. I knew from Brenda's suggestion of the shower that she was as horny as I was.
Taking a shower together was not unusual; we loved being naked and touching each other. When we were younger, it was innocent, sisterly stuff: inquisitive fingers exploring under a nightie or a bathing suit. But as teenagers, there were times when it went a lot further. Like the first time Brenda made out with a boy. She raced home to tell me. I wanted to know how it felt, so she showed me. From then on, we would practice our kissing techniques on each other before we went out on a date. Sometimes I wondered which I liked more, making out with my sister or my boyfriends.
We shared a large bedroom with two beds, but in the winter we often slept together. Many nights, we would snuggle up to get warm, and our hands would wander, caress, and search. It was so erotic to fall asleep with our bodies entwined and my hand between Brenda's legs or hers on my breast. One night, I woke up to feel her finger in me. She must have been having a very wet dream; she was fingering me in her sleep. I thought it was so adorable and returned the favor, awakening her from her slumber with a warm, wet orgasm.
The memory sent a tingle down between my legs as I finished cleaning up the kitchen and headed upstairs to our parent's huge bathroom. It had a whirlpool and double-headed shower. I could see Brenda through the steamy glass shower doors. She had her head tilted back, letting the hot water wash over her face. Her small breasts pointed straight out. As she turned around, I could see the V-shaped patch of fur over her crotch that pointed like an arrow to her slit. I had trimmed it for her only a few days before and called it my "get to the point" design.
I pulled my T-shirt over my head and pushed my panties down my legs. The crotch was still sticky from playing with myself while watching the sexy movie. Sliding the glass door open, I stepped inside as the steam rushed up and surrounded me.
"We need a washcloth," I said and turned to get one.
"Wait, Karen." Brenda held my arm. "Just your hands."
"You're such a bad girl," I said as she pulled me into the two streams of water.
Brenda handed me a bar of soap and turned to face the marble wall. "Do my back."
I lathered up my hands and rubbed them in big circles over her back, starting at her shoulders and working my way down. Brenda leaned forward, placing her hands on the wall; her head faced down between her arms as the hot water sprayed over her. I increased my circles to include her ribs and hips, letting my hands reach around to sweep over her breasts. Every second or third time, I would stop on her nipples and give them extra attention; they hardened at my touch. I ran my hands along her arms, stopping to gently clean her underarms. My sister was very sensitive there, and had told me that when I kissed or caressed her underarms, it sent sparks shooting down between her legs. I hoped it was working now.
From there, I lathered up the soap again and worked my way down to her bottom. And what a thing of beauty: tight and perfectly shaped. Brenda's clothes clung so nicely to it; I know because I watched it just as much as everyone else did when she walked down the hall at school.
Brenda and I loved to play little sexy games when we were in public. Like at school, we would go into a stall in the bathroom and finger each other. Then we would switch panties. During the next class, I would push the wet crotch of her panties in me. What a turn-on it was to smell her pussy on my fingers and know her sticky girl-cum was mixing with mine.
We were always seeing how much we could get away with. Once in a crowded elevator on our way up to our father's office, I was squeezed in close behind Brenda. Without anyone knowing, she reached behind and slipped her hand under my mini-skirt. By the time I realized what she was doing, her finger was around the edge of my panties and into my pussy. I was so flushed I almost fainted. As the doors opened and we stepped out, she licked her finger. "My favorite flavor," she said with a wink. I was destroyed for the rest of the afternoon.
But I always got her back. Like the time our family sat at the table eating dinner and our mother was discussing some important school event with Brenda. I sat across from my sister, and while she tried to talk, I slipped my bare foot up between her legs and rubbed her crotch with my big toe. Paybacks are hell, I thought, as I watched her squirm.
As the hot water created a steam cloud wrapping itself around us, I leaned forward and kissed Brenda's back. Then I lathered up again and rubbed her beautiful bottom. Running my slippery hand up and down her crack, I could tell she was getting aroused. Her breathing deepened and she spread her legs for me.
"Get it really clean," Brenda said, smiling over her shoulder.
"Expecting company?" I asked.
"Only that nasty little tongue of yours."
"My, aren't we horny tonight." I squatted down and ran my soapy hands along her legs, enjoying the feel of her soft inner thighs. While I stroked them, my eyes never left that gorgeous ass right in front of my face, particularly her puckered little hole. It looked like a small flower, and I remembered the first time I saw it up close. We were in bed one night exploring each other's bodies using only the glow of a flashlight. Brenda lay on her stomach and stuck her bottom up. She reached back and spread her cheeks so I could see her hole, asking me what it looked like. I told her I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world, next to her pussy of course. That night we spent hours just sniffing and licking each other's bottoms.
I continued washing Brenda's legs, working my way up until I was stroking her pussy from behind. She moaned at my touch. Then I took my thumbnail and softly scratched her anus, causing an immediate contraction of her cheeks. I pushed the tip of my thumb against her little hole and let it slide in about the depth of my nail. Brenda responded by pushing back, trying to force it in further. With my thumb inside her, I stood up and let my hips press up against her ass. Spreading my legs slightly, I brought my pussy against the back of my hand and started a slow pumping rhythm as my thumb slid in and out of her while I massaged her cunt.
Next, I leaned over so my breasts lay against her back. I reached my other hand around and cupped her left breast, taking her swollen nipple between my fingers and giving it a firm squeeze. I pushed my pussy against my hand, forcing my thumb up inside her rectum as far as it would go.
"God, that feels so good," she managed to say as she met my thrusts. "Just the right size." Her words were slurred as her breathing quickened, her body trembled, her stomach sucked in and out. I know my sister well; she was going to come fast and hard. I loved the feel of my cunt pressing against my hand, but right then I was thinking only of her; all I wanted was to make her come.
God, if I only had a dick.
She climaxed with a shudder, gritting her teeth and jerking her head up and back. She made a low moaning sound as she closed her eyes, the steaming water washing over us.I slowed my thrusts and tried to support Brenda to keep her from sinking to the floor, her legs shaking, her body limp. Slowly she recovered and caught her breath. As I took my thumb out of her, I gave her pussy a few loving strokes and covered her back and neck with kisses. She straightened and turned around, her eyes glazed over with sex.
Brenda wrapped her arms around my neck and locked her mouth on mine, her tongue shot out in a hot, wet kiss. It was not a sisterly peck but a passionate, "fuck me" kiss. Our breasts pressed together wet and slippery, soft and wonderful. We shifted slightly so our pussies could grind against each other's thighs; our hips moved in a wanton, lustful motion.
Finally, we broke the embrace and I took Brenda by the hand. "Let's dry off and go to bed," I said.
"Is that a proposition?" she asked with a giggle.
"Let's just say I heard you were an easy lay."
She kissed me again while she slid her hand down my stomach to my pussy, her middle finger resting between my folds. Then she whispered into my ear, "We're wasting time talking when we could be fucking."
Shutting off the water, we opened the glass doors and stepped out. Brenda grabbed two large towels and we dried each other off. I was so turned on I wanted to pull her down on the floor and eat her right there. But before I could, Brenda threw her towel over my head.
"So you think I'm an easy lay, do you? Well, little sister, if you want to fuck me, you've got to catch me first."
With that, she ran out the door and down the hall. Tossing the towel aside, I raced after her, thoroughly enjoying her girlish laughter and the sight of her bouncing ass and long legs as she disappeared around a corner.
Down the stairs we ran, two naked girls chasing each other like dogs in heat. The sight would have given any boy an instant hard-on and any girl a wet crotch. We raced around, me catching her only to have Brenda slip out of my grasp and sprint to the next room. Finally, she ran back up the stairs, heading for our parent's room and their king size bed. By the time I caught up, Brenda had yanked the covers off and threw them to the side. Then she scrambled onto the bed and positioned herself with her back to the headboard. I stopped a few feet away to catch my breath.
"Is there something you wanted, young lady?" she said nonchalantly as if she had just noticed me for the first time.
I squatted down with my arms resting on my knees. Then I slowly ran my hands along the inside of my thighs until they were at my crotch. Brenda kept her gaze locked on the spot between my legs as I spread myself open. I was so wet that when the cool air hit my hole, it gave me a rush.
We liked to use our parent's big bed when they were out of town on business trips. We would fill the room with the sweet scent of our lovemaking and I often wondered if mom and dad could smell all the girl-cum that had dried on their sheets.
I gave out a little growl and went down on my hands and knees, my cunt throbbing and flared wide open, ready to be eaten. I slowly crawled toward the bed and at the edge I growled again and climbed up the side until I was poised like a cat on the far corner.
"Is the lioness hungry?" Brenda asked.
I growled again, deep and sexy.
Brenda brought her knees up and spread her legs apart. Then she reached down with her fingertips and opened herself to me. I could see drops of moisture on her short fur, the inside of her sex glistened. "Here's your dinner, pussycat, hot and pink, just like you like it."
I crawled forward until I was directly over her crotch. Her scent filled my nostrils. I was so turned on, my body shook, my eyes blurred. I bent down and kissed her pussy with the same passion I would have kissed her mouth. Then I lowered myself onto the bed, the coolness of the sheets felt wonderful on my naked body, still sweaty from our chase. As Brenda wrapped her long legs around my head, I devoured her like a hungry animal; licking, sucking and drinking in all the love juice that flowed out of her.
I reached up, took her nipples between my fingertips, and squeezed them as I licked her. She moved her hips in unison to my thrusts and her soft purring quickly turned to moans as her climax built. Brenda ran her fingers through my hair, pushing on my head to force my tongue deeper. Finally she stiffened and squeezed me tight with her legs as the orgasm rocked her. I slowed and opened my eyes, looking up at her. It was the most beautiful sight I could imagine as I watched her drift in and out of the blissful haze.
"Come here, sweet baby," she said, holding her arms open. I crawled up her body licking and kissing as much of her salty, damp skin as I could. When our lips were inches apart, she wrapped her arms around my neck and we kissed, trying to eat each other with our hot mouths. My lips and cheeks were covered with her cum and she seemed to relish licking it all off.
"I love making you come," I said between kisses.
"Really, I hadn't noticed."
We both giggled as we continued planting kisses all over our faces.
"You've been doing all the work," Brenda said when we finally stopped to catch our breath. "Now it's my turn."
"Heads or tails?" I asked.
"Tails, of course," she replied and scooted out from under me.
Still on my stomach, I waited until she positioned herself behind me before I pulled my knees in and stuck my ass up. I could feel her warm breath as she sniffed me like a puppy. Then she ran her tongue up and down my crack using the tip to tease my asshole before moving down to lick my pussy.
"You smell so good," she said between licks.
"Good enough to eat?" I asked with a wiggle.
Her answer was a loud moan as she pressed her face into me and ate my pussy.
Brenda knew how much I loved being eaten from behind and electricity shot through me when her tongue went in my pussy and her nose pushed on my anus. I reached back to spread my cheeks and she rubbed my legs and ass, her experienced tongue doing exactly what I liked. "Oh, you're such a fucking, nasty girl!" I said through clenched teeth.
Suddenly the phone rang.
"Shit!" Brenda said looking up. "Don't they know we're busy?"
Slowly I swung around out of breath, my chest heaving. "It could be mom or dad. We've got to answer it." I took her face in my hands and pulled her mouth to mine. I could taste my pussy all over her.
"Fuck!" she said as we broke the kiss.
"Hold that thought." I rolled over to reach the phone on the table beside the bed. "Hello." I listened for a moment and then held my hand over the receiver. "It's Mrs. Cummings from down the street," I whispered. "She's been called into an emergency shift at the hospital and her husband's on the road. She wants to know if we could babysit Lisa tonight?"
"Lisa?"
"You know, her twelve-year-old."
While I talked with Mrs. Cummings, I watched Brenda as she slowly slipped two fingers in and out of her pussy. She knew she was driving me crazy as she brought them up and licked off her juice. With a wicked smile, she stuck her fingers deep inside her again and then offered them to me.
"Cut that out, Brenda," I whispered. "We have to decide. Do we want her over here or not?"
"Well," Brenda said between licks, "how can we have fun when there's a twelve-year-old around to watch?" Then she paused for a moment and said, "Unless..."
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I said slyly.
"Maybe we could have some three-way fun." Brenda reached over and ran her hand down between my legs.
"Is that all you think about?" I said, pushing her away.
"Oh and you don't?"
"Mrs. Cummings," I said with difficulty as Brenda played with me. "We'd love to help you out. Just send Lisa on over and don't worry about a thing. She'll be in good hands."
Brenda laughed out loud at that last comment and I found it hard to keep a straight face until I hung up. "You have the dirtiest mind of anyone I know," I said. Then I leaned over and put my lips to her ear. "Besides, what if I don't want to share you with some little twelve-year-old cunt."
Brenda ran her fingers through my hair. "Remember, lover, what's between my legs is yours anytime you want it." She kissed me hard, then said, "Now I wonder what it would take to get in Lisa's panties?"
"She is kind of cute." I casually played with Brenda's patch of pubic fleece.
"I saw her in a two-piece not too long ago," Brenda said. "She's got a nice ass and her tits are just starting to come out."
"Then let's get dressed and be ready to eat, I mean greet her."
We both laughed as I rolled off the bed and reached out my hand. Brenda took it and we headed down the hall arm-in-arm. "What do you wear to seduce a twelve-year-old girl?" I said.
"Now who's got the dirty mind?" she said and ran her hand down my bare ass.
End of part 1.
Send comments to: [email protected]
Read all my stories at: www.mrdouble.com/candykane.htm | 4 |
7,053 | The Challenge | "Mistress, are you all right?" asked Andrea, concern and worry on her face.
"What?" answered Erica, struggling back to consciousness.
Erica realized that she had fallen asleep at her desk, resting her hands on the desktop, her arms for pillows. She had gone into the library to write a report on that new girl, Janet Davis, whom she had used the previous weekend. Then she had dropped off to sleep, exhausted.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm tired," answered Erica.
"I'll get you some coffee, Mistress. Then we have something to discuss," replied Andrea as she left the library for the kitchen.
Erica wanted to get to her feet to follow Andrea, but found that she was too tired even to do that. She had used Janet all weekend, and now here it was Sunday afternoon, and she felt like she had run the NYC Marathon!
"Here's some coffee, Mistress," said Andrea after she returned and handed Erica a steaming cup.
"Thank you, Andrea," replied Erica as she sipped at the black liquid, the heat and caffeine restoring her.
"You're welcome, Mistress."
"What do you want to talk to me about, Andrea? And please take a seat."
"Thank you, Mistress," answered Andrea as she sat in a library chair directly opposite Erica, "it's about Janet Davis."
"Go ahead."
"Why are you training her?"
"Sally suggested that her friend wanted to try something new, since her sex life was a bore. Which was what she told me verbally, and in her written bio."
"Do you really believe that, Mistress? That a normal heterosexual woman who is bored with her vanilla sex life would suddenly decide to serve a Dominatrix? Plus the fact that she has no experience in the scene."
"What of it?"
"She must have had some boring sex life then. I would have thought that you would have been at least more curious before you placed her under the lash," commented Andrea.
"Are you questioning my judgement?"
"Yes, Mistress, when it concerns your reputation as a Domme," pointed out Andrea.
"What else? I know that look in your face, Andrea, out with it."
"What happened Saturday night?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," answered Erica.
"Did Janet tire you out? I know how you train new slaves, Mistress. And you wimped out on using the whip on her. That is, unless you want her to become Tiffany's lover?"
"I felt that she had been used enough," answered Erica.
"All right then, I suggest that you compare her training records to those of the others. You will find that she hasn't received nearly enough use as compared with the others at the same stage of their training."
"Thank you, Andrea, for bringing that to my attention," said Erica.
"I think that if a new girl like Janet can tire you out, I suggest that you see a doctor, Mistress."
"Next week, Andrea," answered Erica, afraid to go back to a doctor.
"Tomorrow, Mistress. Please?"The car horn behind her had startled Erica back to the real world, and she pressed on the gas to get moving into traffic. She pulled over into a McDonald's and ordered coffee, and wished for a drink instead.
Death.
She had cheated death when Stephanie had saved her life, inadvertently placing her on the path to submission when she had been a painslut to Mistress Martine. Then, in a strange twist of fate, she had saved Stephanie from serving Lauren, who had learned all of the wrong lessons from their common Master, Daniel.
Erica had died twice, but as Alana Peters. First after the car accident that had placed her on the path to D/s. Then in her Amazon trip to Brazil when she abandoned her former life to become Erica Riken. She swallowed, and wanted a cigarette.
After finishing her coffee, she drove the remaining distance home and told Andrea that she wanted to be alone in the library. Fortunately, she had no sessions today. Else they would have been canceled also.
'I don't want to be an object of pity,' Erica thought to herself, 'a Domme who can't hold a crop.'
For the first time in years, she buried her face in her hands and cried. Tears fell from her eyes, into her hands. They leaked onto the desktop blotter through her fingers, falling like raindrops.
Part Two: Janet Davis
July 1992
"It's been a long time," said Karla.
Erica had called Karla to investigate Janet Davis, to have him dig into her past and provide a full biography for her. They met in a parking lot to exchange money for his work.
"Have you done what I asked?"
"Yes, here it is," he said, handing it over, "pretty small fry, don't you think?"
"That's my affair," answered Erica.
"Janet Davis, secretary. Earns eighteen thousand a year. Works in Manhattan. Drives a ten-year-old Plymouth. Hardly the type to circulate in your circles, don't you agree?"
"Thought you didn't ask questions?"
"I don't," replied Karla as he opened the car door, "see you next time."
"Thanks."
'If there is a next time,' thought Erica.
It was Saturday morning, and Janet would be helping Andrea with the household chores. She was treated like any new prospect: kept naked, collared and wearing bracelets, and her feet locked into punishing five-inch high-heels. Before she had left the house, Janet had been paraded in front of Erica. Andrea had bathed and perfumed her, and Janet seemed eager and ready to serve. Her naked skin was freshly marked from the session that she had undergone the previous evening.
Sally had told Erica that her friend was a little sexually inexperienced. She should have said that Janet was very sexually inexperienced, that had been a great understatement and Sally would one day pay for her inaccurate remarks.
The house seemed like a prison, and Erica had wanted to get away for a while. She went to a restaurant and got a booth all the way in the back, away from others. There she ordered a Coke and sat reading Janet's file.
Middle-class upbringing, public schools, Queens College. Parents dead, one brother in Colorado. No serious debts, disdains jewelry, dresses well (worked at Macy's starting in High School), owns an old car. Takes the train every day to work in Manhattan.
The very life that Alana had wanted to have was an anonymous one that would have left her free to enter the world of submission. But Erica had not been free, really. Serving Daniel, unable to have Keith for her Master, finally discovering that her true talent had been as a Dominatrix.
Once Erica had gotten Karla's report on Janet, she had wanted to demand the reason for why she had wanted to serve a Mistress. If necessary, she would beat the reason out of her, then send her packing.
'No,' Erica thought to herself in silence, sipping at her Coke, 'I knew nothing about submission either until I met Martine. I could afford Martine, couldn't I? But Janet certainly can't afford the fee that I usually charge the rich women of Greenwich to beat their bottoms.'
"Want some lunch?" asked the waitress, a pretty brunette.
"No thanks, just thinking. Please get me another Coke?"
"Sure."
Erica stared at the ice cubes floating in the brown liquid, watching them swirl around in the glass.
'I'm going to train Janet like all the others, even if I'm sick and she will be my last slave. She deserves a good Mistress that will love and respect her, even if I can't love her in return. Maybe I'll respond to treatment, maybe my energy will come back so that I can take her to bed. She's the first slave to ever wear me out, and she's not even trained yet.'
Erica placed a few dollar bills under the empty glass and walked out into the July heat. She couldn't wait to get home as she got behind the wheel of her BMW. When she got home, Andrea had Janet waiting for inspection, but Erica wanted to place her file in the safe first. Then she would see Janet, alone.
"Enter!" called Erica.
"Yes, Mistress," answered Janet.
Janet walked in the library slowly, measuring each step in the heels that she was forced to wear. Erica noted that the woman had managed to become used to being kept naked after only a few weeks. Good, that was the first and hardest hurdle to jump. After that, being used physically and sexually would come quickly.
"Kneel."
"Yes, Mistress Erica."
"Have you ever served a Mistress before, been whipped or cropped?" asked Erica.
"No, Mistress."
"Ever been spanked by another woman?"
"Not until I came to serve you, Mistress Erica."
"Why do you want to serve a Mistress, Janet?" asked Erica.
"My sex life with men was unsuccessful, so I wanted to try something new. Sally has told me of how she enjoys submission, so I wanted to give it a try," nervously answered Janet, as she swallowed a huge lump in her throat.
"Just like that? You knew that you would be whipped, cropped, and sexually used, yet you still wanted to serve a Mistress?"
"Yes, Mistress Erica, those are my reasons."
"It's all right, Janet. They are quite good enough for me, and I said last month that I was satisfied with your interview," explained Erica, "now I want you to get on my lap, because I want to use a hairbrush on that bottom of yours."
Erica rose from the desk chair, picked up the brush, then seated herself on the leather couch. She watched as Janet did as she had been ordered, presenting her naked bottom for Erica's use.
"Are you submissive Janet?" asked Erica.
"I want to learn submission, Mistress Erica," answered Janet.
Erica fondled Janet's firm breasts, holding the globes in her right hand. She then placed her hand between Janet's legs and felt the already wet sex. Her slit was moist and wet with excitement!
"Are you going to behave?" demanded Erica.
"Yes, Mistress."
"You're such a good girl, Janet."
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
The hard wood of the brush smacked against Janet's upraised bottom, making her flinch with each stroke. Even though each stroke was harder than the one before, Janet resolutely remained seated on Erica's lap.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
"That's enough for now, Janet, I'll be using you tonight in the Dungeon after Dinner."
"Thank you, Mistress," cried Janet as she got shakily to her feet.
"You've done very well, Janet, for a new girl in so short a time," complimented Erica.
"Thank you, Mistress."
"Now go help Andrea in the kitchen with Dinner."
"Yes, Mistress."
'Yes,' thought Erica, 'I shall train her with love and understanding. If she's so eager to learn submission then I must train her.'
"What is your safeword, Janet?"
"Mercy, Mistress."
"Make sure that you do not forget it," advised Erica.
"Yes, Mistress!"
Janet was on her knees in the Dungeon, her hands bound above her head to the ceiling chain. Her breasts protruded, and she was sweating from the use that she had already undergone earlier.
Taking a wooden stool from the wall, Erica sat down in front of Janet and held a crop in her hands, flexing the leather-covered bamboo in her gloved hands. The crop had a leather pad at the end, which was what would be used on her. Erica could see how Janet watched the pad with anticipation in her eyes.
"Hold out your breasts."
Janet did so, and her reward was to have them struck several times lightly with the crop. She did not flinch, cry out, or draw back. Instead, she remained in place and took the crop on her pretty well-formed breasts, which bounced slightly after each impact.
"Very good, Janet."
"Thank you, Mistress."
Erica got to her knees and began to lick and suck at Janet's erect nipples, making the woman moan in response. What the crop could not do, Erica's mouth would do instead.
"Ah!" cried Janet.
"Slut!" commented Erica, her mouth full of Janet's breast.
Erica then placed one of her hands between Janet's legs, and the slave opened her legs to facilitate the entrance of Erica's fingers into her love box. Janet moaned as her Mistress probed her privates.
"Do you want to be my slave?" asked Erica.
"Yes, Mistress."
Erica could smell Janet's sweat from her use, but it wasn't the scent of fear. Rather, it was of pleasure, for that was what she wanted.
"Andrea shall have you tonight, Janet. Only after you have proven yourself to me shall I take you into my bed," stated Erica.
"Please Mistress, make love to me?" asked Janet, disappointment in her voice.
"Not yet, Janet, not yet."
On Monday morning, when it was just Erica and Andrea in the house, Erica had ordered a cheese omelet for breakfast. Instead, Andrea cooked two scrambled eggs and a small steak. Erica ate everything in silence.
"What's wrong, Mistress?" asked Andrea, "why are you taking those iron pills, vanishing for hours, then eating beef constantly?"
"That's my affair, Andrea."
"Then why didn't you take Janet to bed on Saturday night, she certainly earned it?""All right, then, Andrea, sit down!" commanded Erica.
Andrea sat in one of the dining room chairs, next to Erica. She waited in silence.
"I'm sick, Andrea. I have leukemia, I may be dying," said Erica as she broke down in tears, "and I'm so scared."
"Mistress," answered Andrea as she held Erica close to her, as the Domme cried, the tears falling from her eyes.
Part Three: Excalibur
October 1992
The treatments had begun to work and Erica had started to feel normal again. Her energy was returning, along with her sex drive. Mistress Erica had returned to her regular schedule and habits.
Until the phone call had come from Dr. Anderson. Even with the treatments, it was just a temporary respite. She was still seriously ill, and had just three years to live.
Andrea was preparing lunch in the kitchen when Erica walked in. She was just about to tell Erica that lunch would be ready soon.
"Mistress?" asked Andrea.
Erica removed a can of Coke from the fridge, then opened it and sat on a chair. She took a long swallow before she began to speak in a soft voice.
"That was Dr. Anderson, Andrea. I'm dying. I may feel better now, but it's just temporary. I'll start to decline again, become weak and sick again. If you want, I'll release you from your contract. Being a nurse wasn't part of the contract that we signed."
Ding!
"Lunch is ready, Mistress. Chicken pot pie," stated Andrea.
"Let's eat together in here," said Erica, "screw formality for once."
"Yes, Mistress."
Mistress and slave sat down to an informal lunch of salad, pot pie, sodas, and finally cake. Erica stayed in the kitchen after eating, just to talk and have some company.
"You know," said Erica, "the funny thing is that I died twice already."
"Mistress?" questioned Andrea as she did the dishes.
"Just a figure of speech, Andrea."
"Perhaps you could die again, and live once more, as someone else," suggested Andrea, "but have someone take your place."
"I wish that I could do that, Andrea."
* * * * * *
"Wake up, Andrea," insisted Erica as she shook her slave awake.
"What's wrong Mistress?" Andrea looked at the clock and saw that it was three in the morning.
"What did you say after lunch?"
"About what?" sleepily answered Andrea.
"Dying and living again?"
"If you were to die and have someone take your place, Mistress," Andrea answered, still half asleep.
"Yes, that's it!" said Erica as she sat down on Andrea's bed.
"What?"
"I love you, Andrea."
"Yes, Mistress," replied Andrea, convinced that Erica had finally gone crazy, somehow.
* * * * * *
"Sit down, Andrea. I have a question to ask you. What do you think of Tiffany Gray?"
Erica and Andrea sat in the kitchen after breakfast, sharing another pot of coffee together. Outside was a dark gray winter sky.
"Selfish, unstable, a liar, I have never trusted her, Mistress. I have even suggested that you cease being her Mistress."
"Yes, Andrea, I remember. What do you think of Janet Davis?"
"Eager to please you and learn, faithful. Willing to submit to you in all things. The best slave you've had in a long time, Mistress. I'm sorry that I ever suggested that you shouldn't train her."
"Perfect then. Tell me, Andrea, if you died, would anybody miss you?"
"You know that I'm all alone in the world, Mistress. I was an only child, and my parents are dead."
"So if you vanished into a harem, you wouldn't be missed?"
"No, Mistress."
"How would you like to join me then in death and rebirth?" asked Erica.
"Wait a minute, Mistress. You're not thinking of doing what I suggested yesterday are you?" questioned Andrea.
"Yes," answered Erica, sipping her coffee, "yes, and I need your help. Janet must be trained and quickly while I still have the strength to do it."
"Between Janet and Tiffany? How?"
"A competition both financial and in Dominance and submission. Each to be awarded a portfolio of stock, they have to run the house for a year supervised by Blanca Sanchez, their activities monitored by her also then the winner gets the estate. Plus the loser as her slave," Erica described in detail.
"Tiffany will cut her to pieces, Mistress," stated Andrea.
"That's why we have to train her correctly, now don't we? When I loan Janet to Stephanie, I'll tell her not to place Janet on the rack, for example."
"She will, anyway, you know how much she loves a new girl. And Janet is just the sort that she desires."
"I'm counting on it, Andrea," answered Erica.
Part Four: The Final Plans
May 1993
It was only by her strength of will that Erica had managed to retain enough strength to continue training Janet. She had given many of her other slaves and paying clients to other Dommes, simply because she no longer had the energy to service them all.
Some of her wealthy clients were bitterly disappointed, complained that she had serviced their submissive needs for years. That Erica had been the perfect Dominatrix, and that they would gladly pay her anything to continue.
Erica had never been a Domme for the money. She had been quite well off from the family estate before she had began as Mistress Erica serving the needs of the elite in Greenwich CT. Over the years, she had taken her earnings, and placed them into the stock market.
In 1987, she had made a killing by suddenly liquidating everything in the family's stock portfolio, including stock that had been held for generations. Weeks before the crash, she had sold everything, sensing that the market was simply too high. In just one decision, she had increased her cash position many times, and she had called on Blanca to keep her name out of the Wall Street Journal.
Strange how in 1980, when she had done her first deal as an investment banker, she had wanted an article about her in the Journal so very much. Now, in her position as Domme, even though she had amassed a vast fortune in her own name, publicity was the last thing that she had wanted.
She had bought portfolios of stock again for both Janet and Tiffany, and had arranged for brokers to handle their accounts, beginning after her death.
Enough money had been siphoned off into accounts into the Cayman Islands that would provide her with enough money to live on in the time remaining to her, and to set Andrea up with a comfortable estate as well. She could have used Switzerland for numbered accounts, but the Caymans were a lot closer.
Somehow the prospect of her own death no longer frightened her as it did almost a year earlier. Creating the competition between two of her slaves had given her a purpose and goal to continue living. She would even live the year to see who would win the competition.
Janet's slave training had been almost rushed to an incredible degree. Used herself one week, she had been allowed to use other slaves the next. Every week that Erica had called to arrange for her Friday night pickup, she had been afraid that Janet would refuse her. Instead Janet eagerly sought to please her Mistress, having no idea of what was in reality being planned for her.
Even when Stephanie had scared her half to death by placing her on the rack, Janet still wanted to serve a Mistress. It was only icing on the cake when Stephanie had allowed Janet to use her own slave Camille for a transgression.
'I'm sorry, Janet,' Erica thought in silence. 'I'm going to place you in a test that you know nothing about, possibly endanger your life, in a competition with a woman that you think of as your lover and friend, Tiffany. Please forgive me?'
Janet had been bound and whipped into a sexual frenzy, her body covered in stripes every week. Her pussy had been shaved for months now, with Andrea shaving her each Sunday on her departure. Janet had never commented or protested to Erica about that new violation of her womanhood.
Erica wondered sometimes just how much internal strength that the woman really had, her personality certainly didn't betray any indication of the nerves of steel that Janet must possess. Her choice of Janet against Tiffany would place two almost exact opposites against the other.
Janet was cool, calm, and determined. Tiffany was emotional, easily excited, and possessed a short attention span.
Tiffany would no doubt regard her sudden wealth as a gift from heaven. Janet would be far more suspicious about her sudden change in status.
Even more so when she was fired from her job, and would find the clues around the house that Erica would have left for the two of them. It would not take long for them to realize that they were in for the test of their lives.
'Forgive me, both of you, for the ton of bricks that are about to fall on you,' thought Erica, 'but I don't want to go out as an object of pity, a sick Domme dying in a few years.'
The week before, she had used Tiffany alone in the house, giving Janet the week off. Now it was Janet's turn, and Erica was determined to use her in the most sensual manner possible, as a last parting gift to her final slave.
Erica had also made it her business to bring Janet to a few parties and clubs to show her around. She wanted others in the D/s community to know that Janet was her slave, but for far different reasons than normal.
"Mistress," interrupted Andrea from the library door, "Janet has arrived."
"Thank you, Andrea, you may conduct her into the library after you take her coat."
"Yes, Mistress."
Janet was soon seated in front of Erica. She was wearing a white blouse, plaid skirt, and red hose and heels. Holding herself stiffly, waiting for the first orders of her Mistress.
"What did you do the previous weekend, Janet?" asked Erica.
"I went out on Friday and Saturday nights as you ordered, Mistress. To a local bar and a disco."
"What happened?"
"Nothing, Mistress. A few men tried to pick me up, but none of them appealed to me.""So you disobeyed my instructions to go home with a man to have sex so that he could see your marks?"
"Yes, Mistress," Janet truthfully answered.
Erica had her followed the whole two nights, and all of the contacts she had made had been reported back to Erica.
"You have disobeyed my instructions, Janet. You do realize that this will mean a severe punishment?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"I shall use you harshly and make you cry, Janet. I shall leave your flesh marked more heavily than usual, for the crime of disobedience."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Strip," ordered Erica.
Without any hesitation, Janet rose to her feet and silently and quickly removed all of her clothing. She folded all of her clothes neatly on the chair that she had just occupied, and soon stood naked in front of Erica.
"Get up on one of the other chairs," commanded Erica.
Janet did as she was told, her knees resting on the leather cushions, holding onto the top of the chair with her hands. Her breasts pushed against the seat back cushion. She waited for Erica's next move.
From the desk drawer, Erica removed a paddle, which she held in her right hand. She slapped it against her left as a display of power.
"Do you consent to your use, Janet?"
"Yes, Mistress Erica."
"What is your safeword?"
"Mercy, Mistress Erica."
Erica rose from the desk and stood behind Janet. The paddle was offered to Janet's lips, and she kissed it without having it ordered to.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
"Thank you, Mistress!" cried Janet after five harsh strokes that quickly reddened her bottom.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
"Thank you, Mistress!"
Erica placed her hand against Janet's bottom, and the red flesh was hot from the ten strokes. She then placed her hand up between Janet's legs to her shaven sex, and probed within.
"Do you miss your pubic hair?" asked Erica.
"Yes, Mistress," cried Janet.
"How does having your sex like this feel?"
"I feel naked, even when I'm wearing clothes," answered Janet, "when my panties rub against my pubes, Mistress."
"Does this always remind you of me?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Get off the chair and take your clothes to Andrea. She will outfit you and place you in the Dungeon for my use. Do not disappoint me this weekend, Janet."
"No, Mistress."
"Go!"
Erica watched as Janet fairly ran out of the library, naked and holding her clothes. There was no longer any doubt; her submission was now total to her Mistress.
Erica had dressed in a sleeveless Catsuit with just a pair of modest matching black heels. She had placed a belt around her waist to accentuate her figure, from which she had hung a pair of gleaming stainless steel handcuffs for effect.
In the Dungeon was Janet, already bound against the whipping post. Her legs were locked open about two feet, her hands behind her back that was against the wooden post itself. Andrea had placed a leather strap above her breasts and one around her waist, welding Janet to the device.
"Helpless, aren't we?" asked Erica upon her entrance.
"Yes, Mistress."
"I'm going to strike you with a crop on your breasts and stomach, with the rod itself. It will hurt and mark, but only for ten strokes. For the crop and paddle will only be your warmup for tonight."
"Yes, Mistress."
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
"Thank you, Mistress!" cried Janet, tears flowing from her eyes, for Erica had struck her tender breasts.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
"Thank you, Mistress!"
"Very good, Janet," complimented Erica, "hang her from the ceiling, Andrea. Janet shall be flogged tonight, then whipped tomorrow."
"Yes, Mistress."
When Janet was hanging by her wrists, Erica made certain to place clamps on her nipples and shaven sex, making her moan with each application. She cried out, but did not ask for their removal.
"Perhaps I shall use clothespins on you next time, Janet. They can provide quite a bit of agony as well."
"Yes, Mistress," cried Janet.
"Kiss the flogger."
Erica had chosen a heavy leather flogger. It would hurt fiercely, and mark immediately as well.
"Two weeks ago, I used you lightly. Do you remember?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"I shall make up for not using you properly, and last week as well."
"Thank you, Mistress."
"You shall count each stroke, and thank me after every five."
"Yes, Mistress."
"One!"
"Two!"
"Three!"
"Four!"
"Five, thank you, Mistress!"
The only sound in the Dungeon was the heavy thud of the flogger and Janet's counting of each stroke. Her body bound, and now punished severely by Erica, Janet instead hung proudly in her chains.
"Six!"
"Seven!"
"Ten! Thank you, Mistress!"
Erica watched in admiration as her slave soaked up every heavy stroke of the flogger. Just a year before, Janet had known nothing, indeed had not been spanked since childhood. Now she was a true slave in sub-space, able to divorce her body from her mind.
"Eleven!"
"Thirteen!"
"Fifteen! Thank you Mistress!"
There were no tears in Janet's eyes as she was flogged, she merely strained against her bonds. Her pretty breasts with the clamps on her nipples shook with every stroke from the flogger.
"Eighteen!"
"Twenty! Thank you Mistress!"
Erica paused briefly to run her fingertips over Janet's heated and punished flesh. Janet was going to be severely used this night, but she did not cry out. Instead she awaited Erica's next move.
"You're very beautiful, Janet," complimented Erica.
"Thank you, Mistress," panted Janet in response.
"Just a few more strokes, Janet."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Twenty-one!"
"Twenty-three!"
"Twenty-five! Thank you Mistress!" gasped Janet, her chest heaving.
"Twenty-seven!"
"Thirty! Thank you Mistress!"
"Thirty-three!"
"Thirty-five! Thank you Mistress!" cried Janet, tears falling from her eyes.
"Thank you, Janet," said Erica, as she kissed her slave on the lips, "you're very brave, and loyal."
"Mistress..."
Janet's body was covered in fresh red marks and drenched with sweat. Her hair that had been so nice earlier in the night was now a mess of tangles. But the girl had never looked so proud under Erica's lash before.
"Andrea, release her, give her a bath, then have her in my bedroom in an hour or so. I want to have my slave show her appreciation in the arts of love," ordered Erica.
"Yes, Mistress," answered Andrea.
"I love you, Janet," said Erica.
"I love you too, Mistress."
Erica left the Dungeon, not even bothering to have Janet kiss the flogger that she handed to Andrea on the way out. She made it back to the library, then sank into the chair, exhausted from the ordeal that she had just inflicted on Janet.
'I'm dying,' Erica thought to herself as she buried her face in her hands, then began to cry alone.
Erica entered her bedroom, to find Janet waiting naked on the floor. Her hands were locked behind her back, her collar chained to the ring-bolt set in the wall.
"Are you ready to make love to your Mistress?" asked Erica.
"Yes, Mistress Erica!"
Quickly, Erica removed the shoes and Catsuit, and underneath she wore a lace black bra and panties, which she quickly removed. While Andrea had been bathing Janet, Erica had fallen asleep. She had needed a short nap to recharge before sex.
Erica sat on the edge of the bed, and allowed Janet to begin by servicing her while she was still bound on the floor. This way, all she could use was her lips, tongue, and teeth to bring Erica to orgasm.
Quickly Janet began to work on Erica's love nest, her lips touching Erica's sex lips, her tongue probing deep inside her love canal tickling her love bud. Janet pushed herself against Erica, inhaling the scent of her secretions, knowing that she was satisfying her Mistress.
"Ah!" cried Erica.
It had not taken Janet long at all for Erica to be stimulated into orgasm as Janet tickled her clit time after her. She threw her head back and moaned, her bottom bouncing on the bed.
Erica then pulled Janet onto the bed, and quickly released her hands. She then lay down on the bed and opened her legs to admit Janet once more to her sex.
With only that pause, Janet began again to satisfy her Mistress. They both moaned in pleasure as Janet brought Erica one orgasm after another, all of her energies and training directed at the singular goal of pleasing the Mistress.
"Ah!"
"Ah!" cried Erica.
Sweat poured off Erica's body as she bounced on the bed, screaming her pleasure from one orgasm after another. Janet held onto her thighs, and continued to bury her face between Erica's legs.
Finally, Erica was spent, her breaths ragged from the waves of pleasure that had washed through her like a tidal wave. She lay on the pillow, unmoving.
"Are you all right, Mistress?" asked Janet.
"Yes, Janet," Erica lied, "just a little jet lag I returned from California yesterday."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Come here, Janet, I want to hold you in my arms, for you are truly my best and most loving slave."
Janet did as she was instructed, and held onto Erica. Why was her Mistress sweating so much?
"Let me make love to you, Janet."
"Yes, Mistress," said Janet.
In contrast to Janet's hurried lovemaking, Erica began by playfully sucking on Janet's nipples. Her arms enfolded Janet, their scents mingling together as one.
Erica then began to suck at Janet's pussy, and slowly brought her to orgasm, her tongue tickling Janet's clit. Her languid lovemaking continued, until Janet shook with one climax after another.
"Janet, would you like a drink?" asked Erica.
"Yes, Mistress."
Erica got two glasses of water from the bathroom, and they both drank together.
"Thank you, Janet," said Erica.
"For what, Mistress."
"Everything," answered Erica as she closed the lights, then threw the sheets and quilt on the bed, then she joined Janet under the covers.Erica was asleep within minutes, leaving Janet puzzled by Erica's lack of energy. Janet lay on her back and let sleep claim her too, the taste of Erica still upon her lips.
Erica awoke with a start. Sunlight poured through the windows, and Janet was no longer chained beside her. Instead, she was alone in bed, naked under the covers as she had fallen asleep during the night.
"Mistress?" asked Andrea from the door.
"What time is it?"
"Ten, Mistress Erica."
Andrea entered the bedroom, carrying a tray in her hands. She placed it on the bed after Erica sat up.
"Where's Janet?"
"Chained in the kitchen, Mistress. Since you couldn't awaken, I took her, gave her a bath and breakfast, and told you had a case of jet lag. Then I brought up a tray for you."
"Oh god, Andrea. It's the end. I can't continue," cried Erica as she buried her face in her hands.
"Just one more night, Mistress. One more use of Janet, that's all. Here's your juice and pills."
"Thank you," answered Erica as she drank her orange juice, then downed her medication and iron pills.
"You're welcome, Mistress Erica. Breakfast is scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee."
"Thank you, Andrea. Janet wore me out twice last night, once in the Dungeon, then later in bed."
"I know. You were dead to the world, literally," answered Andrea, concern evident on her face.
"I just hope that I have the energy to use her again tonight," said Erica.
"Then I prescribe a bath, then you dress in your pajamas and spend the whole day in bed. Janet will bring you lunch, and Dinner can be like normal downstairs."
"Thank you, Andrea. Is the slave now giving her Mistress orders?"
Andrea reached over and kissed Erica on the forehead, then on her lips.
"Get some rest, Mistress. Before I place a collar around your neck and lock you to the wall myself."
"Yes, Mistress Andrea."
Later on, Andrea checked on Erica. She had showered and put on her pajamas, then had fallen asleep again. Lunch was forgotten as Erica slept into the afternoon, to be awakened much later for Dinner, her stomach rumbling from hunger.
"What's for Dinner?" asked Erica after Andrea had awakened her.
"Rib Roast, Mistress. Medium Rare."
"Thank you, Andrea. Set the table for three, I want you and Janet to eat at the same table with me. We'll drop ceremony tonight."
"Yes, Mistress."
As Erica dressed for Dinner, she watched as snow fell outside. The peaceful whiteness brought back memories of her playing in the snow in the estate during childhood. Erica chose a Gucci dress with one shoulder strap that she usually wore to affairs.
She had ordered that since Janet and Andrea were to share her table, they were not to wear Maid's uniforms. Andrea wore a simple blue dress, and Janet wore a blouse and skirt, though she still had the collar around her neck.
Andrea carved off three ribs and served Erica first. In addition to the roast was salad, roast potatoes, and steamed green beans. Plus a bottle of red wine to top off the meal.
Janet looked surprised to be dressed and share the table of her Mistress. She ate silently, only speaking when spoken to by Erica or Andrea.
Dessert was a chocolate cake and coffee, and afterwards Erica adjourned to the library to do some paperwork.
"I want Janet downstairs by nine," ordered Erica to Andrea.
"Yes, Mistress."
'I hope that I can perform tonight,' thought Erica to herself in the library.
For simplicity's sake, Erica wore a Dominatrix dress in black PVC that covered her arms, but not her legs. She had taken to storing some of her fetishwear downstairs so she wouldn't have to run upstairs each time.
The Domme dress was similar to a Catsuit, except that it ended in a dress instead of tight fitting legs. It was quite attractive, and once when she had gone to a disco, she had seen a woman wearing it. Erica wondered if the woman knew the true origin of the dress.
She stared at herself in the mirror, depressed. Her career as a Domme was over at age 36 from exhaustion. Erica had wanted to do so much, and just when she had established a name for herself, she was dying instead.
Dinner was one of the best that Andrea had ever made, the roast had indeed melted in her mouth. Erica wondered if next she'd start to gnaw on car bumpers for iron.
"Do you submit to your Mistress?" demanded Erica.
"Yes, Mistress."
"Kiss the whip."
In order to save time, Andrea had hung Janet from the ceiling in advance, her arms and legs opened by spreader bars. Erica had always disliked those Dommes who went right into using a slave without any preliminaries first.
But there was now no time left, none at all to waste.
"Yes, Mistress," answered Janet.
Erica drew the whip back and began to strike Janet with a series of light methodical strokes. Unsure of how much energy she had left, she wanted to make whatever she did last as long as possible.
Janet had already been well marked the day before, so she didn't have to be as intense. Still, she knew that Janet remembered her previous times under the lash. She was certain that Janet was already suspicious of her lack of energy, and any failure of performance now would only confirm her suspicions.
"Do you accept my use of you, Janet?" asked Erica.
"Yes, Mistress Erica."
"There will be no need to count tonight, Janet. After I use you, I shall take you into my bed again."
"Yes, Mistress."
Erica then began to whip Janet, and she secretly dreaded what would happen if she should fail. But then a strange thing happened, her body suddenly became alive with strength, her muscles energized as they had not been for months.
'What's going on?' Erica asked herself.
The whip struck Janet again and again, and Erica could see the effect that it was having on her. Each stroke left a mark behind as the whip wrapped itself around her body.
"Ah!" cried Janet.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
The whip continued to strike Janet, and Erica noticed that her slave had begun to sweat. Glistening droplets ran down her body, reflecting in the lights.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
"Ah!"
In the past Erica would have stopped, and felt the overheated flesh of her slave. But now if she stopped, perhaps Erica would be unable to start again. So she continued with the whip, never breaking Janet's flesh but instead leaving welts behind that would last for some time.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
"Ah!"
Erica looked briefly between strokes at Andrea, who was captivated by her performance. In her mind she had kept careful count of the number of strokes that she had delivered, mindful of the number that she knew that Janet could safely take.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
"AH!"
It was the sudden change in Janet's voice that alerted Erica to the fact that Janet was close to her limit. Erica wanted to continue, to use the newfound energy that her body had provided. But instead she knew that she had to follow Janet's limit.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
Erica had delivered twenty-five strokes, all without breaking the skin or making Janet bleed. A splendid performance, given that Janet's body was now covered in red welts.
"Thank you, Janet," complimented Erica what she ceased, "kiss the whip."
"Yes, Mistress."
Erica reached between Janet's legs and found that her sex was sopping wet.
"Slut! Do you want to make love to your Mistress?"
"Yes, Mistress Erica," quickly answered Janet.
"Andrea, I'll be in my bedroom. Have Janet there in half an hour," ordered Erica.
"Yes, Mistress."
When Janet was conducted into Erica's bedroom, she found her Mistress naked on top of the quilt. Her legs open, a dildo and crop on the night table.
"Please your Mistress," ordered Erica, "now!"
Janet immediately set to work on Erica's sex, her arms free from any bondage. In fact, Erica had not chained her in any way, leaving her slave free.
Erica soon moaned and bucked with a satisfying orgasm, her bottom bouncing on the bed. Her body covered with sweat, she soon turned over and began to use Janet.
Her tongue quickly drove Janet to sexual madness, bringing her to climax as well. Then Erica slipped the dildo inside Janet's pussy, then began to suck her breasts and kiss her on the lips.
Under Erica's fierce attentions, Janet soon had one climax after another, with her mouth, sex, and breasts stimulated by her Mistress.
"Ooooooh!" cried Janet, "Mistress!"
Erica continued bringing Janet to orgasm, wearing her slave out. Each climax seemed to give Erica herself new strength.
Finally, Janet dropped off to sleep after they cuddled and kissed under the sheets. Next Erica slept soundly, naked against her slave.
During the night, Erica awakened to look at Janet's face in the moonlight that was streaming through the window. On her face was the look of a slave who had been given both pain and pleasure by her Mistress, who was smiling in pleasure as she slept.
'Janet, forgive me,' thought Erica.
Part Four: Death and Rebirth
June 1993
"Are we both packed?" asked Erica, nervous as hell.
"Yes, Mistress, everything's done," stressed Andrea for the second time.
Erica had used both of her slaves for the last time, and had removed some of her fetish and regular clothing from the Mansion. Next she had left clues, an empty envelope from Janet's company in the bottom of the library desk, a letter in the computer.
The will and codicil had been drawn up months before, along with the package of documents that Blanca would give to Janet and Tiffany.
Every last detail had been attended to and gone over several times. Erica and Andrea had tried to second guess how Janet and Tiffany would respond once they inherited the estate, then realized that they were in a deadly competition with one another.Finally, the trip to Mexico, their deaths in the mountains in a plane crash (which would be faked, complete with a plane that Erica had purchased for that reason). Then going into hiding, and the new identities that had been created.
"Mistress, why did you leave your journals in the safe?" asked Andrea.
"Because if Janet finds them, she'll read and cherish them. Tiffany will probably ignore them at best, burn them in the fireplace at worst."
"Who do you think will win?" questioned Andrea.
"Janet."
"Tiffany will cut her to ribbons, Mistress. I believe that Tiffany will be the winner."
"No, Andrea, that's where you're wrong. Janet has nerves of steel, even if it's not obvious. She will win, mark my words. I just hope that I'm alive one year from now to see that come true."
At the gate, a black limousine had pulled up. Erica hit the button to admit the car.
"Black, how fitting," commented Andrea.
"Come, Andrea. Death awaits."
The End of Chapter Fourteen | 4 |
7,078 | Sandra and Ana.....an experience to be told | "My life is in shambles! I fucking want someone to love, dammit!"
Her face was so kind-looking. You know the kind of look that makes you feel soft in their presence? Sandra's eyes were full of tears. She was a lonely single mother of twins trying to make it in life. Working a job that paid enough to survive if the cat wasn't hungry.
"I am so fucking sick and tired of finding losers!" she said, staring at me. We sat face to face on the old couch that sagged on the back patio. The sun was just hovering over the frail tree tops. The heavy tree limbs swayed as the summer breeze swirled in and out at our feet, moving grass trimmings in little whirlwinds.
"Well, maybe you need to quit looking at losers in bars," I said in a gentle tone.
"Easy for you to say, you are never looking for anyone!"
We sat there and drank our iced tea in silence. Sandra had been someone I knew for what seemed like forever. I loved who she was and how she thought. She was pushing forty and felt like she was aging alone. This was the first time I noticed her beauty. Her hair draped her naked shoulders in colors of browns, like the fall. Her mouth was perfectly shaped. I loved her smile. Sandra's eyes were a vivid, jealous green.
As she went on and on about her absent love life, I watched her movements. Graceful she was, like a mature ballerina in full bloom. Her hands danced in the sunshine as she cursed each lover before the last. Her breasts were small and ripe. I felt as though I should have reached out and touched them.
"You always have masturbation," I said, interrupting her in mid-sentence.
"What? Where did that come from?" she asked, as her voice softened as she waited for an answer.
"I don't know, I always hear women talking about how great masturbation is." I blushed. I could feel the blood moving into my cheeks, filling them with warmth.
"What do you mean? Hearing women talk about it??? Don't you masturbate?"
I moved my body towards its center and felt as though I would crumble at any minute. I was so embarrassed. I just let her know that I didn't do this. I had tried many times to get it right, but somehow never got the gist of it. I felt foolish with my hand in such a place, and worse, alone!
"Well..." I said, hesitating.
"Well, what?" she paused, trying to catch my eyes.
"I never got it right, so I gave up!" I laughed an uneasy laugh. I crossed my legs and had the major physical defense thing going on by now.
"Let me teach you, Ana," she said with a soft, pitiful smile. Okay, was she joking or what? Teach me? How the hell could she teach me to masturbate? Geez, I was a 28-year-old woman...
"Okay, teach me, Sandra, tell me all the great secrets," I said with great sarcasm.
Just then, she put her hand on top of mine and squeezed. She stood in front of me and began to undress. First, she twisted her locks on her head, driving a pencil through it with care. Then I watched her untie the small blue bows that rested over her shoulders that held her dress up.
"Look at me, Ana, feel my soul. Be a part of who I am," she whispered. Now I knew she wasn't playing with me. She was serious, and I was pleased. Her eyes locked with mine as she untied the right bow first. Holding her dress to her chest, she untied the left bow with the other hand. Still holding her dress, she held her hand out to me, I placed mine in hers, and followed her inside.
I watched her move as we walked inside. Sandra's hips swayed from left to right. She was a thin woman with great shape. Her back had spatters of freckles here and there that made me incredibly aroused. I traced her spine from her neck to her panty line with my middle finger. She giggled like a schoolgirl. As she led me into the bathroom, I became a bit puzzled. I thought we would end up in the bedroom. I sat on the commode and watched as she lit a candle. She smiled. I smiled. Then Sandra turned to the bathtub and began running the water.
"Mildly hot, not too hot. You never want it too hot," she said as she looked over her shoulder. Still holding her light blue printed dress to her chest, she stood in front of me on the most beautiful maroon rug. I had a bad habit of looking down when I became nervous and studied the details of this rug. "Up here, look at me, watch me, try to learn from this, Ana."
"Okay. I am a little nervous. I don't think I have ever been so intimate with a woman."
"Oh, keep your eyes open, it will happen one day. I can tell. You are open, but you need someone to lead you," she said as her hand touched my shoulder.
Sandra stepped back and released her dress. The soft pastel material slid down her body and gathered around her ankles. Her breasts were incredible. I looked down.
"Please don't look away, Ana, be with me, try to feel me with your soul."
"Okay," I said, starting at her neatly pink-polished toenails, then up her legs, passing her panties and up to her breasts. Aah, her breasts. Small in form but so perfectly created. Her nipples were large and stuck out, inviting my warm mouth to caress them. But I stayed still. Her skin was unblemished and taut for her age. Creamy white and soft-looking. Our eyes met. Time stood still.
"I am feeling kind of weird here, Sandra," I said, trying to find an escape.
"It's because this is new to you, just relax," she said in that sensual, soothing voice I have heard before.
Sandra ran her fingers across her tummy, then, slipping her fingertips under the elastic band of cotton panties, she slid them off, slowly, real slow. I thought I would go mad, until I saw the blonde fur that was so neatly manicured. She watched me squirm on the commode, knowing she was making me crazy. Then she stepped her feet apart. With one hand, she slid two fingers across the lips of her sex, not entering, just teasing. I felt my own sex begin to grow with wet fluid. I wanted to touch my own sex, or touch hers. Her sex was so beautiful that I imagined eating an overripe peach when the juices drip down the sides of your face. I wanted to run my tongue up the slit and find the place where she would scream my name out to the gods. She smiled and turned, stepping into the warm water. Her well-shaped legs draped the sides of this old, discolored porcelain Victorian bathtub. Then she let the water drain out a bit. I was confused.
"Watch me, Ana, this is the heavenly part of masturbation, or cheating," she laughed.
She leaned forward, turning the water back on, adjusted the flow and temperature, then slid down, slamming her ass against the foot of the tub. The water flow hit her sex with some amount of force. I was dizzy, looking at the black and white tiles, and counting the shampoo bottles in a frenzy. I was so aroused.
"Okay," she said, looking back at me, "I am going to do my thing, and you watch me. If you want, you can come closer."
"Okay," I said, not moving a muscle.
Her hands moved about her tummy, touching and gliding. Her nipples were erect and sat on top of her like Hershey's chocolate, only in a white, creamy color. Then she opened her sex. I had to be closer. I moved towards the tub and knelt next to her. She smiled and touched my cheek. I was lost, and she knew it. I saw pinks and mauves, like an artist had painted the soft tissues lining her sex. The water hit her clit and moved it back and forth as she slipped her finger deep in her sex. I wanted to taste her. Her moans were light, and I knew she was climbing with intent. I moved my hands towards the water, her eyes opened. Her hand moved around mine as she moved it towards her sex. I cupped her sex just so I could feel her heat and her passion. I began a soft, gentle rub along the length of her front side. Then I stood and bent over the tub and tasted her. The water splashed on the floor and drenched my clothes as it hit my head and ran down my neck. She moved back a bit, and I swirled my tongue in a feather-light flick. Her voice became deeper as she moaned for me to move faster. Her hands around my neck and the water flowing was a beautiful sight. I grabbed her legs and turned her around, first entering my tongue in her sex, then drawing it along her clit. My fingertips twirled her nipples between my fingertips when I heard the cry.The cry of orgasm. The satisfaction that I had wanted to feel all the years of my life.
I toweled her off that night and pampered her like a queen. I poured her a cup of red wine and fed her grapes. We didn't say much to each other that night. It wasn't about being woman and woman, it was about spirit with spirit. Being one with one another.
She and I are still very good friends and are both very sensual. We never speak of that summer night, nor do we ask ourselves why we did it. But sometimes when I am in my garden, I can smell her sex among the fragrance of flowers that grow there.
1997 | 4 |
7,082 | The Swing Man | "She said no."
"Definitely no?"
"I would have to say yes, definitely. If it's any consolation, it wasn't because it was you. I just think the whole idea made her uncomfortable....I think she thinks it will hurt our marriage."
"That's too bad. If you ask me, it would only make it better....well, damn.....listen the offer is still open if you want to come out. Carmen's definitely up for it."
"Really?...I thought it was a package deal."
"I would have liked that, man. You know I've always had a thing for Stella, even if she is a prissy little thing. But, it doesn't mean you have to sit around on your hands....it's time to live a little. You've earned it."
"You are so right...I'll call you tomorrow after I think about my alibi."
"All right, talk to ya then."
Jonas Elliot placed the phone back on its cradle and stared out the window wall of his 19th story Century City office. It was a relatively unsmoggy day in Los Angeles, and he could see the blue Pacific way out beyond Santa Monica.
'Well, just when things were getting a little dull,' he thought. 'My brother makes me an offer I can't refuse? The lucky son-of-a-bitch shouldn't be the only one having fun. I'll just drive out and screw this new chickie.'
He opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out the Polaroid Lance had sent him. Carmen was one hot looking woman. In the photo, she was wearing a skimpy white bikini that contrasted nicely with her deep tanned skin. Long, dark-brown hair with some blonde highlights.
'She must have some Latin blood in her...maybe even some black ancestors,' Jonas mused, trying to remember who she reminded him of. Then it came to him - Paula Abdul, the singer. His daughter had pointed her out to him at a Kings game a couple of years ago. Carmen's face had that same look, the full lips, longer legs though. And Carmen's chest was much bigger, obviously she had had some work done.
"I'm going to enjoy doing that," he said out loud. He could almost kiss Lance for even bringing up the idea. He'd been talking to his brother at a cook-out at his Brentwood home several weeks ago, and Lance, who was ten years younger than he, had started kidding him about slowing down at his old age of 41. Of course, he was referring to the number of women he was sleeping around with behind Stella's back.
Years ago, Jonas had sold his soul to the Devil - namely the former owner of the law firm he worked for, Stella's father. Jonas had seen the opportunity of marrying his way to partner status. He'd tried to remain faithful for five or six years, even had a child because Stella wanted one so bad. But temptations were around every door, and once Stella's father passed away, leaving him firmly entrenched in the law firm, he'd begun to open some of those doors.
He'd been discreet, and the thrill had been good. Finding willing partners had not been a problem; he worked out at the LA Sports Club several times a week and was in pretty good shape. 6'1", black hair with a smattering of gray, a mustache that was going grayer faster, good definition on the chest, legs in pretty good shape from racquetball.
Women wanted him and didn't care if he was married. Clandestine motel meetings with secretaries, an occasional female lawyer or even some escort girls. He'd pay for it if it was good stuff, no problem with that. Hell, he had enough money to retire on comfortably even if Stella found out and took him for half.
Anyway, Lance had been kidding him about whether he could still get it up. He'd remarked to Lance that he was getting enough on the side, but he did wished he had Lance's life once in a while; Lance's life seemed to be a string of parties and loose women, many of them in their 20's.
Lance had gotten sort of serious and had taken him aside and told him that he had fallen in with a crowd out in Palm Springs that liked to swing, wife-swap, fly in call girls from LA or Vegas. There was a lot of money in Palm Springs, old and new, and Lance had made some connections and gotten invited to some parties, swinger parties. His good looks and the ability to bring some hot girlfriends had made him a regular. And he said they were always looking for new faces, preferably people with money to minimize the chance of someone going to the press.
So, that's how he had arrived at where he was today. He'd tried to talk Stella into trying a little swinging with Lance and Carmen to begin with. He'd known the odds were stacked against him, but he'd pitched the idea with all his might. If Stella would agree, their marriage would have gone up to the point that he could stand it. Of course, Stella, the ice queen, had vetoed the idea before it saw the light of day.
'Well, you can't teach an old dog new tricks,' he thought, knowing it applied to Stella and himself also. He put the picture of Carmen back in his drawer and got up and walked to the window, rubbing the back of his neck as he pondered how he should proceed.
Jonas waited three days before he took the plunge.
He'd originally thought he might tell Stella he was going to San Diego on an overnight business trip or maybe to Vegas for a convention. But he was worried she might try to call him, and the whole secret would unravel. Talking it over with Lance, they had decided he should just drive out one work day.
"Just drive the hell out...tell your office you're at a meeting and you'll call in for messages. Easy as pie, Jonesy," Lance promised.
"You know, I think that's the best.....I should get out there around lunchtime. Let me buy you two a lunch.....someplace nice."
"Shit, partner! The only thing you'll be eating when you get out here is a little Carmen pussy!"
"Lance, I better not be wasting a day driving out there.....your little piece of ass better put out," Jonas said.
"Buddy, this is a sure thing! Carmen can't wait to get it on with you....I've shown her your picture, too. Know this...when you get out here, you will be getting your noodle wet."
He'd tried to act like himself the next morning. He got up, showered, went downstairs and said good-bye to Stella like a thousand other days. He took his briefcase and went out and got into his Lexus sedan. He'd put some things in the briefcase that he normally would not have - a toothbrush, another bottle of his usual cologne, a pair of underwear and some condoms. He wasn't sure if he'd need any of it, but it was there if need be.
He drove south into Century City and went up to his office briefly. He put on a show of having forgot some papers for a meeting that he had to go to and hurried out, saying he'd call in for messages.
Then, it was out on the freeway and he headed east toward the desert.
The drive was almost two and a half hours; he'd done the trip faster in the past, but he wasn't going to risk getting a ticket.
'That's how they caught Son of Sam,' Jonas thought and chuckled at the analogy. Him, an attorney, worried about leaving clues.
The desert heat was shimmering across Highway 11 as he came within view of the outskirts of Palm Springs; it was probably already in the low 90's.
It had surprised him when Lance had moved to Palm Springs from Florida a year ago. Lance only said that he liked the heat and the desert, but Jonas was pretty sure he'd had to leave Florida to avoid some trouble. He had an idea that Lance might have been running drugs; he led a somewhat extravagant lifestyle for a man with no high school diploma.
Whatever he was into, Jonas loved the guy. Especially if Lance was going to start throwing some tail at him.
He pulled up in front of Lance's condo and shut off the car. He got out, looking around the lush manicured grounds of the community. He removed his suit jacket and tie and left them in the backseat. Taking his briefcase, he walked toward the front door of the condo, and Lance came out before he was halfway there.
"Jonas, welcome to Shangri-La," he said, dramatically waving his arms back at his place. His brother was dressed for the weather in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless mesh football jersey. His longish hair, mustache and scruffy beard gave him a Hell's Angel-like look, at least that early in the morning.When Lance wanted to clean up, he melted some hearts with that smile and his hair done back in a ponytail. "Hey, you could have left the briefcase at home...you're not going to be taking a deposition, for Christ's sake."
"Maybe it's full of money," Jonas kidded him as they shook hands. "You know how I hate to be in your debt."
"Yeah, well, believe me, you are going to be after today. Come on in before the neighbors get the idea that I'm respectable."
Jonas followed him to the door and then entered as Lance ushered him in. Jonas walked down the entrance hallway, passing the stairs that led to the two bedrooms above and stopped at the doorway to the living room, which was to his left. It was empty, so he turned to see where Lance would direct him.
"Go ahead and set your case down there inside the door," Lance said. When Jonas straightened up from doing so, he saw Lance was standing on the bottom step of the stairs. "Come on up," he said with a grin.
Jonas followed Lance upstairs and into his bedroom where he saw Carmen for the first time. Lance's bedroom had a small solarium off one side, and he saw Carmen, wearing Wayfarers, laying on a towel-draped, wood slat sun chair in the patch of sunlight that came down through the rectangular chimney-like room.
It was a nice private set-up and Carmen was topless. He had been right about the non-authenticity of her breasts; real breasts don't stand up like that. They were beauties. Jonas guessed they were maybe 38Cs, like softballs with skin stretched over them. Beautiful, flawless bronze skin capped by half-dollar-sized pinkish aureoles. She had on a bright blue bikini bottom, the kind that rode high on her hips and then plunged down between her legs in a V pattern. Her legs looked like she had been into weight training at some point in the past; her thighs were powerful-looking but her calves looked small.
"Look at that little honey," Lance said in a whisper. "Acting like she don't know we're here watching her." Jonas turned to look at his brother. "That's right, I told her you had arrived. She's just giving you a little show...oh, look at that."
Jonas looked quickly back at Carmen to see her slowly dragging the fingers of her right hand down her stomach. As they both watched, Carmen ran those fingers under the front of her bikini bottoms, tantalizingly slow, as she also moved her feet onto the solarium floor, one on each side of the chair. Then, with the junction of her legs on display and half of her hand hidden in the bikini, Jonas saw her fingers begin slowly moving. Carmen was obviously indulging herself in a little self-stimulation, and Jonas certainly felt stimulated himself.
"What a cock-teaser!" Jonas said in a complimentary way.
"She don't tease, bro....she puts out, don't you worry," Lance promised as he walked over to the solarium door. He opened it, and Carmen raised her head to look at him, drawing her hand from her bottoms, as he said, "He's here, baby."
"Oh..great!" Carmen gushed, certainly sounding surprised.
Carmen sat up and swung her shapely legs into a pair of open-toed heeled shoes and stood up as Lance walked back toward where he stood. Lance gave him a wink.
Carmen came into the bedroom, taking off her sunglasses. Her face was flawless, with high cheekbones, manicured eyebrows that arched unnaturally over a pair of grey-blue eyes, and a dazzling white smile. She walked toward him. She hadn't made any attempt to cover herself, and Jonas found himself beginning to grow in his pants.
"Hi, Jonas...I'm Carmen," she said simply, extending her hand.
Jonas shook it, of course. "Carmen, it's my pleasure...to meet such a beautiful woman."
"Well, he's quite a charmer, Lance," she said, her eyes flashing with mischief as she stared up at Jonas. The picture had made her look taller, but she was maybe 5'6" in person. "And such a tall drink of water," Carmen continued as she moved closer to Jonas and slid her arm around him.
Jonas let his left arm circle her neck, and his left hand came down on her shoulder, the skin feeling unusually hot and oily from her sunbathing. She smelled like a piña colada and felt so soft. He wanted to throw her down and fuck the shit out of her, lunch or no lunch.
"I can tell I'm going to enjoy your brother," Carmen said to Lance and then looked up at him, "I hope your offer still stands for lunch...I'm starving."
"Yeah, sure," Jonas said, running his hand down Carmen's side, his fingers just reaching around enough to graze the outside swell of her left breast, "I can't promise that I wouldn't tip over the table." Jonas let the little vixen know that he was aroused at the contact they were having.
"Oh, we can't have that, honey," Carmen said, giving his side a squeeze and pressing her right tit into his side. As she said this, her right hand traveled up from the front of his thigh, where it had been lightly laying, and her palm ran across his groin where it couldn't help but encounter his coiled, stiffening member.
"Ooooooo.....I think I've found something here!"
"You sure have, darling," Jonas said, moving his groin into her hand. Jonas saw her head tilt down to watch her palm move back and forth across a now undeniable tent in his pants. He looked at his brother, and he was headed for the bedroom door.
"I just got a little work to take care of before we go eat...uh, it looks like you two will be OK for a few minutes," he laughed knowingly as he disappeared down the stairs.
Jonas felt Carmen's hand move up onto his belt buckle, and her fingers went to work undoing it. "Jonas, I think Lance would like me to take care of you before we go....you don't mind, do you?"
"That may be the world's dumbest question," he said, rubbing his fingers across her lithe back as she skillfully undid his pant's button and unzipped him with her one hand. She hooked her fingers in the front of his underwear and yanked them down far enough for his penis to pop out.
"Big dicks must run in your family," Carmen said as her hot little hand latched onto his semi-erect and felt its weight.
Jonas was in heaven. Carmen was certainly not a shy one!
"Sit down on the bed and I'll work a little magic," Carmen promised. "We'll calm this thing down so it won't bother us during lunch."
Jonas sat on the edge of the bed, hardly believing how quickly things were happening but happy it was as Carmen dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands pulled his pants and briefs down to around his knees as her eyes locked on his.
"Do they call you Jonas because of this whale-sized dick?!" she said hotly as her small hand wrapped around his drunkenly swaying dick and began jacking it. It only took four strokes to get it rock-hard. He was about eight inches long and pretty thick. He could only smile at the thought of what the afternoon would be like.
"Let me see you get that thing in that pretty little mouth," Jonas suggested as he ran a finger across her full lips and off her chin. Any thoughts of Stella, his family, repercussions, anything.... went right out the window. He had a gorgeous lady jacking him, and it felt so good.
"Well, this is just going to be a quickie, so don't try to impress me with your stamina....remember, I'm hungry," she said with a wink and scooted closer between his spread legs. Her hot mouth stretched over his bulbous dickhead, and she began sucking him.
"Jeeezzzzzuusss!" Jonas groaned at the incredible sensation of young lips wrapped around his dick and the exotic sight of Carmen's lovely face looking up at him. He fell back on his elbows on the bed, and Carmen began jacking him in her mouth.
"UUnnnnngghhhh!" he groaned again. Carmen wasn't making love to his dick, she was jerking on it like she was milking a cow! "That's it, you nasty girl...aaahhhhh....you are one fucking hot cocksucker....shiitttttt......can't you get more than that in your mouth?"
Carmen made a little mewing sound around his thick stick and shocked the hell out of him by doing a quick deepthroat on him. Her lips just kept right on sinking, and he felt his cockhead being pushed and bent forward to get a little ways down her throat. Just as quickly, she drew her mouth off of him and smiled devilishly as she kept jacking him.
"Does that answer your question?" she said and gave the underside of his shaft a long slow lick from the bottom to the glans. With her mouth back on top, she started sucking and jacking him again.
Jonas was going to shoot soon, he just couldn't hold back. He imagined himself just letting go....imagined her pulling off and his cum flying all over his lap and on his shirt....oh, Christ! the shirt! He couldn't go home with a cum-stained shirt!
"Wait!" he gasped, as he tried to sit up and begin unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom. Carmen took her mouth off his ready-to-pop prick. "This is the only shirt I brought."
Carmen brushed his hands away and said, "Don't worry....Carmen's not going to let anything get on your shirt.....ooooo, come in my mouth and I'll swallow every drop!" Her hand strongly milked his organ again.
"All right, baby, get your mouth over it and I'll blow the back of your head off!" Jonas halfway kidded her. This sexpot was going to make him shoot his nuts through his dick.
She took him in her mouth again and swallowed him to the back of her throat in a long slow descent, moving her head up against his stomach to get the proper angle. Jonas felt her hand cup his balls and lightly squeeze them. Jonas just had to come for his voracious cocksucking slut. It was everything he'd dreamed.... just having sex for the sake of having sex, no strings, no commitments.
"Carmen, get ready!......Here it comes, baby," he warned her unnecessarily.
He felt her lips slide back up to just underneath the rim of his crown, and her hand started jacking him, and he just let go.Three days' worth of his cum shot up into Carmen's skillful mouth, and she just kept right on jacking, both of them moaning in his brother's bedroom.
"AAAAGGGHHHHH!" Jonas shuddered as his brother's latest talent swallowed all he could give her. He could feel her concave cheeks mold themselves around his trembling shaft as she sucked him off. He thought he'd never stop coming; it was like he was supercharged or had thrown the switch to a reserve cum tank. His nuts actually hurt when he was through.
He came out of his post-sex stupor to find Carmen licking her lips over his slick dick tip. She gave him a knowing look and milked another drop of pearly discharge out of his pisshole with a strong tug on his deflating dick. Her tongue lapped it up like a white chocolate treat.
"Oh, shit...that was.....mind-blowing," Jonas complimented her.
She kissed the bottom of his wilting wand and said, "I might have to skip lunch, you devil....hold this for me." Jonas held his dick up off his shirt as she walked in the bathroom and came back with a washcloth which she handed to him. She leaned down and gave him a quick kiss.
"I'm gonna take a quick shower....tell Lance he better change, I'm not gonna be long." She headed for the bathroom, and Jonas mopped up his crotch as he watched her ass jiggle out of sight.
'Can you believe this shit?!' he thought to himself as he pulled his pants back up. 'Fuck, what a little sex doll...so at ease with the whole thing...hi, how are ya....come in my mouth!'
He went down the stairs feeling particularly light on his feet and found Lance sitting on the couch in the living room.
"Did I tell you?...did I tell you?" he said, bounding off the couch and punching Jonas in the arm. Lance seemed as excited as Jonas had been upstairs.
"Lance, how you are able to still walk is beyond me," Jonas said, feigning exhaustion as he sat in a chair. "Where the hell did you find her?"
"Yeah, she's a ballbuster, all right.....I met her at one of those parties I told you about. Some guy flew her up from Puerto Rico for this party...and I took her home," Lance said proudly.
"This guy didn't have a problem with that?"
"Who knows? Hell, the guy was doing two blondes last time I saw him."
"You're talking an orgy, right?"
"I don't know any other word to describe it, Jonas...bodies going at it right and left."
Jonas had to find a woman to take to those parties. Lance had said they were strictly a couples thing...no singles were allowed. He'd hire a girl if he had to.... the problem would be keeping it from getting back to Stella. Well, he'd think about that later.
"Carmen said you should change. She's taking a quick shower."
"Great.....welcome to the swinging world, my brother," Lance said, slapping him on the shoulder before running upstairs.
They went to eat lunch at Giordino's, an out-of-the-way Italian place. Carmen turned a lot of heads in a tight white miniskirt with a bib-like top that left her stomach bare and white, heeled boots that came up almost to her knees; she sure knew how to package herself. They got a booth in the back, and Carmen made a point to sit real close to Jonas.
They ordered some drinks, and Carmen rubbed his leg while they waited for them to arrive.
"So, Carmen, tell me about yourself," Jonas said, openly looking down her top.
"Well, I liked sucking you off earlier," she said, and they all laughed at her little declaration.
"I was thinking a little further back than that," Jonas said, "Where did you grow up?"
"In Panama."
"Really?!"
"Yes, my father was an exporter, an Italian, coincidentally. My mother was Brazilian."
"Brazil..... I knew you had some Latin blood. I bet your mother was a beautiful woman.... to have such a beautiful daughter."
"Lance, why can't you say such sweet things?" she teased his brother as the waiter arrived with their drinks.
"Jonas has always had the silver tongue," Lance conceded. "I got the good looks."
"From where I'm sitting, you both look good to me," Carmen said, raising her drink in toast.
"Well, at least we got that out of the way. We're all good looking," Jonas said laughingly as the waiter came back.
"Are you ready to order? An appetizer, perhaps?" he inquired.
"Yes," Carmen said, "these two strong men will each have an order of oysters on the halfshell. That'll be all."
The waiter went away smiling.
"You believe in that oyster stuff, Jonas?" Lance asked, looking at Carmen.
"I'll take any help I can get."
"I think you are understating your capabilities," Carmen said, her hand flirting with his crotch again. Jonas took her hand in his to keep it from causing any more commotion.
"Are you always like this?" he asked Carmen.
"Always," Carmen promised.
"Carmen, tell Jonas how you got into swinging," Lance said, sipping his drink. "You'll love this, Jonas." Jonas gave Carmen his full attention.
"I was living in Panama and wanted desperately to get out. So I got a job on a cruise ship; they used to dock at Colon. The job was shit, housekeeping stuff, but I knew the ship traveled to Florida and all along the Mexican coast, and it was exciting to see other parts of the world. So, we dock in Miami and take on a new group of passengers. I worked the early morning and afternoons, so my evenings were my own. One evening I got tired of sitting around, and I put on my best dress and went walking up on deck. Anyway, I met this couple that was in one of the rooms I cleaned, the Jordans, and they invited me back to their room, to give me a gift for the fine job I'd done. Well....when we got to their room, I soon found out they were swingers."
"The plot thickens," Jonas said, giving her hand a squeeze.
"We had a wild night. They were so open about it and very attentive to my needs, if you know what I mean," Carmen said wickedly.
"The two spent all night taking turns with her," Lance chimed in, dropping his voice a bit. The nearest other patrons were two booths down. He continued painting the picture for Jonas. "The wife does her first...Carmen's first female lover...and then the husband climbs on, does his business...then the wife goes down on her, cleans things up....let's Carmen get a little practice in," Lance wiggled his tongue at Carmen, and Jonas got the picture, "then the husband's ready to go again..."
"I think he gets the picture," Carmen purred.
"Yeah, well, tell him the rest," Lance said, draining his drink.
"So, work the next morning was hell, I think I'd gotten about an hour's sleep. The next night I just slept in. I'm cleaning the swinger's cabin the following morning, and the wife comes back and asks me to join them again that night. She didn't have to do much of a sales job...I was certainly up for it."
"Sounds like the Jordans had a hell of a good cruise," Jonas said, getting turned on by the scene Carmen was painting.
"So I'm back in their cabin," Carmen continued, "right after dinner, and we're getting into it, and the guy tells me they aren't the only swingers on board...the whole hallway had been booked by a swinging club! So Mr. Jordan gets on the phone, and other couples start showing up, and .... clothes start coming off."
Carmen steered his hand onto her bare knee and covered it with her hand.
"There I was, a sixteen-year-old 'native' girl.....the men were lined up to three to four deep. I was the flavor of the night....after that, I was hooked. I just fell right into the whole hedonistic lifestyle."
"Is that a story or what?!" Lance said and crunched some ice between his teeth. Jonas had to admit that it was; his trousers were tented up again.
"So how did you get into the US?" he asked, massaging her leg.
"The Jordans sponsored me. Filled out all the forms, told the nice immigration people that they just wanted to help me get a start, help me get an education......when all they really wanted was to fuck my brains out......mmmmmm, those were some good years."
The waiter came back with the two orders of oysters, breaking the erotic spell Carmen had woven over him.
"Eat up, boys," Carmen giggled as she twirled her hair.
An hour later, they were back at Lance's condo.
Lance opened the door and deactivated the security system as Carmen led Jonas back upstairs. They were all pretty well horny from the ride back; Carmen, sitting in the passenger seat, had been busy with her hand in Jonas's lap while Lance had scooted up behind her seat to drape a hand down her top. All a result of more Carmen stories during lunch.
"Unzip me," Carmen said when they were in the bedroom, keeping her back to Jonas as she shook her ass at him. He quickly unzipped her tight skirt and slid it down her legs, exposing the thin straps of her thong panties and her gorgeous, soft butt. Jonas turned his palms away from himself and pressed them into her downy derriere, digging his fingers in and lifting her up slightly.
"That's the spirit, Jonas," Carmen said, spinning in front of him and whipping her top open, holding it out like a pair of wings. "Feel these, baby."
He grabbed her high-riding knockers and squeezed them together, using his thumbs to rub her stiff nipples. Carmen pulled her top off her shoulders and let it drop behind her before moving against him, bringing her arms up around his neck as he continued to play with her tanned tits. He could tell she wanted to be kissed, and he lowered his face to hers. Carmen kissed like she gave head - real well. Her tongue was in his mouth like a shot as he let his hands drop down her sides and pulled her against him.
"Save some for me, Jonesy," he heard Lance say, and he broke their kiss to look over at his brother, who had his shirt off and was unbuttoning his jeans. Carmen had made them promise they would both fuck her together when they got back...the idea of doing two brothers turned her on.
"I'm more than you two can handle!"Carmen challenged them as she pushed herself away from him and flopped back on the bed, scooting to the middle of the king-size spread, the heels of her boots digging into the cover. Apparently, she was going to leave them on.
Jonas began to take his pants off as Carmen let her legs flop open. The small cloth of her thong hid her charms, but he could see she kept herself neatly trimmed. He laid his pants carefully over a chair and turned back to find she had bunched the material of the thong with her right hand, reshaping it into what amounted to a large piece of dental floss. Jonas could now see she had trimmed her muff in a narrow, three-inch strip that terminated in the top folds of her sex, right around the hood of her clitoris. She began pulling the cloth through her pussy lips as she eyed the progress of their disrobing. | 5 |
7,097 | Buffy The Vampire Slayer (Cordilia and Willow [ff]) | "Do you guys feel hypnotized? Are we supposed to feel hypnotized? Do you think we were hypnotized? 'Cause I don't feel hypnotized," rambled Willow Rosenberg.
Buffy and Xander stopped walking and just stared.
"Willow, the guy was a fraud, although the monkey was kind of cool," stated Xander, "right, Buff?"
"Definitely," agreed Buffy. "I'm not really one to fall for that 'Ooga wooga, you're under my control' mumbo jumbo. Slaying legions of the undead, yes; Marvo the Marvelous, no."
Xander rolled his eyes. "You couldn't have just said 'Yes, Xander, you're so right?'"
Buffy gave him a look and tried to suppress her laughter.
The trio's hypnosis discussion, or lack thereof, was interrupted when Cordelia approached them.
"Oh look. It's the..." Xander scrambled to find his words of insult, but Willow spoke before he could finish.
"It's Cordelia."
Xander looked at Willow.
"Yes. It's Cordelia," he said pointedly.
"Look," began Cordelia as Xander sighed in impatience, "I really need some extra credit for my Psychology grade. Miss Alexander said I could get some if I interviewed this mental-"
"Hypno-mentalist," corrected Willow.
"Exactly why I'm here," continued Cordy, "I was wondering if you could give me a hand with it, since you're so...sciency."
After a brief interlude of Xander's sarcasm, Willow and Cordelia went off to find the hypnotist. An hour later they met up with Buffy and Giles in the library.
"So, the hypno twins are back," announced Buffy, "How'd it go?"
"Boring as could be," uttered Cordelia, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, even I was losing interest," remarked Willow, "He kept going on and on about expressing your true self and there was this ball, I met the monkey. His name is Harpo."
Giles tilted his head thoughtfully, "This, um, hypnotist... what was his name?"
"Marvo the Marvelous," chimed the entire group, somewhat surprised with each other.
"Yes, I do recall researching his methods in the past. He uses simple techniques to appear authentic. His personal methods, however, have proven to be quite successful."
Buffy grabbed her bag. "Well, that's great Giles, but I've got a ton of trig to do, so I'm off."
"Yeah, I've gotta book, too," replied Cordy. She turned to Willow, "So, you'll help me write up my paper review?"
"Sure. Just let me know when."
"How 'bout tomorrow. After school? My house?"
"Okay."
"Great." Cordelia hurried out of the library.
Xander looked at Willow, "Tomorrow is Friday..."
"Yes, that's the day that comes after Thursday, which is today," Willow stated.
"I know that. But Cordelia always goes to the Bronze on Friday. We go to the Bronze on Friday. Do you see where I'm going with this."
"Maybe she's planning to speed type and then go to the Bronze after. That's what I do." Willow gathered her things and booked out of the library.
"But Cordelia's the social queen. Something's not right." Xander turned to see that Giles had gone into his office, "And I'm talking to myself, like an idiot."
Friday mornings were always hectic at Sunnydale High School. The students were eager to start their weekends, and the teachers were just as anxious to send them on their merry ways so that they too could begin their weekend rituals. Buffy and Xander were discussing the previous evening's events, which involved Buffy and, what else, a vampire. Cordelia turned the corner and began to approach them. Buffy looked at her and did a double-take. Cordelia was dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Xander noticed Buffy looking at something and turned to see Cordelia.
"The queen of fashion dressed like that," Xander commented, "If this is a dream, please, just let me sleep five more minutes."
Behind them, Willow approached from the opposite end of the hall. They both met Buffy, Xander and Giles at the same moment, and seemed to take a minute to look at each other.
Later that day, Cordelia was searching for Willow. School was out and she wanted to get her paper written so she would have time to go to the Bronze. She opened the door to the music room, not sure if Willow was a band geek, but one could never be too thorough. Someone was playing a lilting Tori Amos tune on the piano. Sure enough, it was Willow pounding away on the keys.
"Wow, I didn't know you could play," Cordelia commented, startling Willow.
"Oh! I... uh... don't play much around people... or never around people."
Cordelia slowly walked to the piano bench. "Do you think you could teach me something?"
"Um..." Willow felt funny, but she wasn't sure why, other than feeling completely nervous about the whole situation.
Cordelia sat down next to Willow.
"Well, this here is middle C," Willow pointed to a key. "And you put your hand here," she took Cordy's hand, placing it on middle C. She placed her hand on top of Cordelia's, surprised at the dizzying effect she was getting from the feeling of Cordy's hand under her own.
"What is going on in here!" belted a voice from the doorway.
The girls turned to see Principal Snyder.
"School is over. That means go home!"
Minutes later, they were in Cordelia's car on their way to write the psychology paper. Cordelia pulled into the empty three-car garage of her high-class Sunnydale home.
"Wow. This is beautiful," exclaimed Willow, as they entered the house.
"Yeah, but it gets old after a while. Especially the Golden Swan Fountain," Cordy pointed to a Golden Swan Fountain and giggled. Willow began to giggle, too. Cordelia grabbed her hand, "C'mon, I'll show you my room."
"Are we being too rambunctious? Won't your parents get kind of... parenty if we keep being silly?"
"They're off in Rio or somewhere this weekend. Again."
"Oh."
"Here, this is my room," Cordy opened a door to reveal a simple, but nicely decorated room.
"This is nice."
"I like simplicity. It makes life easier, especially when I have to keep up the popular thing. It's such a drain."
"Then why do you do it?"
"It's just the way I am, I guess. But enough about me."
Willow blinked. Did Cordelia Chase just say "enough about me"?
"Cordelia, are you feeling all right?"
"Never better. I actually feel kind of... freakie yesterday..."
Willow nodded, "Me too."
They stared at each other for a minute. Willow took a step closer to Cordelia. "You don't think that Marvo really..."
"Really what? Surfaced our inner feelings?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know and I don't care. All I know is that I've felt this way for you for a long time..."
"Felt... this way?" Willow leaned forward and kissed Cordelia softly on the lips.
"Forward much?" remarked Cordelia as Willow broke the kiss.
Then Cordelia wrapped her arms around Willow and leaned in for another. This time the kiss was more passionate. Willow slowly slid her tongue into Cordelia's mouth. While their tongues danced in fiery intimacy, Willow's hands moved along Cordelia's body, down to her waist, pulling her closer, then up to her breasts, where she ran her thumbs across Cordy's erect nipples. Cordy broke the kiss, reached down and pulled off her shirt to give Willow better access. Willow smiled, gleefully, and pulled Cordy to the queen-sized bed.
Willow tugged at Cordelia's top. After a short while, they had both successfully removed all of each other's clothing. Willow laid Cordelia down and hovered over her. They kissed again. Willow began to kiss Cordy's neck and shoulders and then moved down to the May Queen's perfect breasts. She kissed them and began to lick one as her hand explored the other. Cordelia's moans of approval persuaded her to continue on this voyage. As her lips continued, her other hand moved down between Cordy's thighs. Willow heard Cordelia's sharp intake of breath and smiled. "You know, Cordy. I could stop now if you want..." Willow teased, playfully. "Don't you DARE!" was Cordy's response. Willow slowly began to stroke Cordelia's inner lips.It was hot and wet inside the realms of the cheerleader's womanhood. Willow slipped in a finger. Cordelia moaned. As she continued this movement, Willow kissed down Cordy's stomach to the patch of curls leading to Cordyland. Willow breathed in the sweet scent of Cordelia. She lowered herself into Cordy, her tongue probing deep inside, eagerly tasting the fashion-conscious popularity guru.
Cordelia arched her back as Willow replaced her finger with her tongue. She had never felt so good. Not even when she was nominated for Junior Miss Sunnydale. Willow continued to caress Cordy's insides with her tongue, quickening the pace. Cordelia's breath became sharper and faster; she pressed her hips into Willow's face. Willow slid her finger in alongside her tongue, rubbing in alternate motions. "God, Will! Don't - ever stop!" Cordy's body was white-hot. Her breath was quick and sharp as she convulsed on the bed. Willow felt her tightening around her tongue and finger. She remained there until Cordelia relaxed, then kissed her way up to her mouth and planted a kiss on her lips. They held each other, peaceful, just happy to lie in the arms of each other. Willow smiled slyly, "Betcha never thought I could do that." Cordy smiled back, "You'd be surprised what I've thought about you." "Oh really?" Cordelia just grinned and ran her finger down Willow's chest. "I've had my eye on you for a long time, Willow Rosenberg." She kissed Willow with driving force and then moved down her body, kissing here and there until she reached Willow's wet, throbbing hot spot. She ran her tongue along the outside of Willow's crotch. Willow groaned in approval. Cordelia then thrust her tongue inside, eager to taste what she'd been dreaming about for so long. She lapped in increasing speed as Willow writhed and spasmed. Willow was already hot from the excitement she had been able to give Cordelia, and it wasn't going to take much more to send her over the edge. She pressed her hips into Cordelia as she began to move her tongue in circles. This was enough for Willow. Her body tightened as she was washed in a wave of hot/cold electricity. Cordelia resumed her place next to Willow. After Willow regained the ability to move again, she snuggled closer to Cordelia and kissed her softly.
That night at the Bronze, Buffy and Xander wondered about Willow and Cordelia.
"Do you think they'll show?" asked Buffy.
"It's not like either of them to miss a night of frolicky fun. Besides, this is Sunnydale, land of the Hellmouth, what else is there to do," Xander remarked.
A voice came from behind them. "Hi, guys! Sorry we're late."
They turned to see Willow, wearing what looked to be a Todd Oldham original. Buffy tilted her head, puzzled. "Where'd you get the cool dress, Willers?"
"Oh, Cordy lent it to me..." Willow replied, matter-of-factly.
Buffy and Xander looked at each other, mouthing "Cordy" questioningly.
Cordelia approached the group with two bottles of Aquafina in hand and handed one to Willow, "Here you go, love."
Willow took the bottle and set it on the table. "Thanks, but right now," she said, grabbing the other bottle from Cordelia and setting it on the table as well, "I want to dance."
She took Cordelia by the hand and led her out on the dance floor.
Buffy and Xander just stared.
Xander spoke first. "Oh-"
Buffy interrupted. "-my"
"god!" they both finished.
THE END | 4 |
7,098 | Girls Loving Girls Part 1 | "Karen, I'm going for a hot shower," Brenda said as the movie ended. "Want to join me?" She got up from the couch and stretched her arms over her head; her breasts pushed her T-shirt out as it rode up, exposing her bare navel and tiny bikini panties. It was Saturday, and our parents were away for the weekend. My seventeen-year-old sister and I (I'm sixteen) had decided to spend the evening at home watching TV. The main reason: neither one of us had a date.
"Sounds inviting," I said. "You get started while I clean up." I watched her head up the stairs, her long, tanned and slim legs, her bare feet padding on the carpet. Then I picked up the empty popcorn bowls and soda glasses and went to the kitchen. The movie we rented was very sexy with lots of nudity. Brenda and I had been lying on each end of our large living room couch. My hand had slipped down between my legs a few times during the really hot scenes, and I could tell from Brenda's squirming that she was enjoying herself too. By the end of the movie, I was definitely turned on and very wet. I knew from Brenda's suggestion that she was just as horny as I was.
Taking a shower together was not unusual; we loved being naked and touching. When we were younger, it was innocent, sisterly stuff: inquisitive fingers exploring under a nightie or a bathing suit. But as teenagers, there were times when it went a lot further. Like the first time Brenda made out with a boy. She raced home to tell me. I wanted to know how it felt, so she showed me. From then on, we would practice our kissing techniques on each other before we went out on a date. Sometimes I wondered which I liked more, making out with my sister or my boyfriends.
We shared a large bedroom with two beds, but in the winter we often slept together. Many nights, we would snuggle up to get warm, and our hands would wander, caress, and search. It was so erotic to fall asleep with our bodies entwined and my hand between Brenda's legs or hers on my breast. One night, I woke up to feel her finger in me. She must have been having a very wet dream; she was fingering me in her sleep. I thought it was so adorable and returned the favor, awakening her from her slumber with a warm, wet orgasm.
The memory sent a tingle down between my legs as I finished cleaning up the kitchen and headed upstairs to our parent's huge bathroom. It had a whirlpool and double-headed shower. I could see Brenda through the steamy glass shower doors. She had her head tilted back, letting the hot water wash over her face. Her small breasts pointed straight out. As she turned around, I could see the V-shaped patch of fur over her crotch that pointed like an arrow to her slit. I had trimmed it for her only a few days before and called it my "get to the point" design.
I pulled my T-shirt over my head and pushed my panties down my legs. The crotch was still wet from playing with myself while watching the sexy movie. Sliding the glass door open, I stepped inside as the steam rushed up and surrounded me.
"We need a washcloth," I said and turned to go get one.
"Wait, Karen." Brenda held my arm. "Just your hands."
"You're such a bad girl," I said as she pulled me into the two streams of water.
Brenda handed me a bar of soap and turned to face the marble wall. "Do my back."
I lathered up my hands and rubbed them in big circles over her back, starting at her shoulders and working my way down. Brenda leaned forward, placing her hands on the wall; her head faced down between her arms as the hot water sprayed over her. I increased my circles to include her ribs and hips, letting my hands reach around to sweep over her breasts. Every second or third time, I would stop on her nipples and give them extra attention; they hardened at my touch. I ran my hands along her arms, stopping to gently rub her underarms. My sister was very sensitive there and had told me that when I kissed or caressed her underarms, it sent sparks shooting down between her legs. I hoped it was working now.
From there, I lathered up the soap again and worked my way down to her bottom. And what a thing of beauty: tight and perfectly shaped. Brenda's clothes clung so nicely to it; I know because I watched it just as much as everyone else did when she walked down the hall at school.
Brenda and I loved to play little sex games when we were in public. Like at school, we would go into a stall in the bathroom and finger each other. Then we would switch panties. During the next class, I would push the wet crotch of her panties into me. What a turn-on it was to smell her pussy on my fingers and know her sticky girl-cum was inside me, mixing with mine.
We were always seeing how much we could get away with. Once in a crowded elevator on our way up to our father's office, I was squeezed in close behind Brenda. Without anyone knowing, she reached behind and slipped her hand under my mini-skirt. By the time I realized what she was doing, her finger was around the edge of my panties and into my pussy. I was so flushed I almost fainted. As the doors opened and we stepped out, she licked her finger. "My favorite flavor," she said with a wink. I was destroyed for the rest of the afternoon.
But I always got her back. Like the time our family sat at the table eating dinner and our mother was discussing some important school event with Brenda. I sat across from my sister, and while she tried to talk, I slipped my bare foot up between her legs and rubbed her crotch with my big toe. Paybacks are hell, I thought, as I watched her squirm.
As the hot water created a cloud of steam that wrapped itself around us, I leaned forward and kissed Brenda's back. Then I lathered up again and rubbing her beautiful bottom. Running my slippery hand up and down her crack, I could tell she was getting aroused. Her breathing deepened and she spread her legs.
"Get it really clean," Brenda said, smiling over her shoulder.
"Expecting company?" I asked.
"Only that nasty little tongue of yours."
"My, aren't we horny tonight." I squatted down and ran my soapy hands along her legs, enjoying the feel of her soft inner thighs. While I stroked them, my eyes never left that gorgeous ass right in front of my face, particularly her puckered little hole. It looked like a small flower, and I remembered the first time I saw it up close. We were in bed one night exploring each other's bodies using only the glow of a flashlight. Brenda lay on her stomach and stuck her bottom up. She reached back and spread her cheeks so I could see her hole, asking me what it looked like. I told her I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world, next to her pussy of course. That night we discovered just what a turn-on it was smelling and licking each other's bottoms.
I continued washing Brenda's legs, working my way up until I was stroking her pussy from behind. She moaned at my touch. Then I took my thumbnail and softly scratched her anus, causing an immediate contraction of her cheeks. I pushed the tip of my thumb against her asshole and let it gently slide in about the depth of my nail. Brenda responded by pushing back, trying to force it in further. With my thumb inside her, I stood up and let my hips press up against her ass. Spreading my legs slightly, I brought my pussy against the back of my hand and started a slow pumping rhythm as my thumb slid in and out of her while I massaged her cunt.
Next, I leaned over so my breasts could lie against her back. I reached my other hand around and cupped her left breast, taking her swollen nipple between my fingers and giving it a firm squeeze. I pushed my pussy against my hand, forcing my thumb up inside her rectum as far as it would go.
"God, that feels so good," she managed to say as she met my thrusts. "Just the right size." Her words were slurred as her breathing quickened, her body trembled, her stomach sucked in and out. I know my sister well; she was going to come fast and hard. I loved the feel of my cunt pressing against my hand, but right then I was thinking only of her; all I wanted was to make her come.
God, if I only had a dick.
She climaxed with a shudder, gritting her teeth and jerking her head up and back. She made a low moaning sound as she closed her eyes, the steaming water washing over us.I slowed my thrusts and tried to support Brenda to keep her from sinking to the floor, her legs shaking, her body limp. Slowly she recovered and caught her breath. As I took my thumb out of her, I gave her pussy a few loving strokes and covered her back and neck with kisses. She straightened and turned around, her eyes glazed over with sex.
Brenda wrapped her arms around my neck and locked her mouth on mine, her tongue shot out in a hot, wet kiss. It was not a sisterly peck but a full-blown "fuck me" kiss. Our breasts pressed together wet and slippery, soft and wonderful. We shifted slightly so our pussies could grind against each other's thighs.
Finally, we broke the embrace and I took Brenda by the hand. "Let's dry off and go to bed," I said.
"Is that a proposition?" she asked with a giggle.
"Let's just say I heard you were an easy lay."
She kissed me again while she slid her hand down my stomach to my pussy, her middle finger resting between my folds. Then she whispered into my ear, "We're wasting time talking when we could be fucking."
Shutting off the water, we opened the glass doors and stepped out. Brenda grabbed two large towels and we dried each other off. I was so turned on I wanted to pull her down on the floor and eat her right there. But before I could, Brenda threw her towel over my head.
"So you think I'm an easy lay, do you? Well, little sister, if you want to fuck me, you've got to catch me first."
With that, she ran out the door and down the hall. Tossing the towel aside, I raced after her, thoroughly enjoying her girlish laughter and the sight of her bouncing ass and long legs as she disappeared around a corner.
Down the stairs we ran, two naked girls chasing each other like dogs in heat. The sight would have given any boy an instant hard-on and any girl a wet crotch. We raced around, me catching her only to have Brenda slip out of my grasp and sprint to the next room. Finally, she ran back up the stairs, heading for our parent's room and their king-size bed. Brenda yanked the covers off and threw them to the side. Then she scrambled onto the bed and positioned herself with her back to the headboard. I rushed in and stopped a few feet away to catch my breath.
"Is there something you wanted, young lady?" she said nonchalantly as if she had just noticed me for the first time.
I squatted down with my arms resting on my knees. Then I slowly ran my hands along the inside of my thighs until they were at my crotch. Brenda kept her gaze locked on the spot between my legs as I spread myself open. I was so wet that when the cool air hit my hole, it gave me a rush.
We liked to use our parent's big bed when they were out of town on business trips. We would fill the room with the scent of our lovemaking and I often wondered if mom and dad could smell all the girl-cum that had dried on their sheets.
I gave out a little growl and went down on my hands and knees, my cunt throbbing, ready to be eaten. I slowly crawled toward the bed and at the edge I growled again and climbed up the side until I was poised like a cat on the far corner.
"Is the lioness hungry?" Brenda asked.
I growled again, deep and sexy.
Brenda brought her knees up and spread her legs apart. Then she reached down with her fingertips and opened herself. I could see drops of moisture on her short fur, the inside of her hole glistened. "Here's your dinner, pussycat, hot and pink, just like you like it."
I crawled forward until I was directly over her crotch. Her scent filled my nostrils. I was so turned on, my body shook, my eyes blurred. I bent down and kissed her pussy with the same passion I would have kissed her mouth. Then I lowered myself onto the bed, the cool sheets felt wonderful on my naked body that was still sweaty from our chase. As Brenda wrapped her long legs around my head, I buried my face and devoured her like a hungry animal; licking, sucking and drinking in all the love juice that flowed out of her.
I reached up, took her nipples between my fingertips, and squeezed them as I licked her. She moved her hips in unison to my thrusts and her soft purring quickly turned to moans as her body built to a climax. Brenda ran her fingers through my hair, pushing on my head to force my tongue deeper. Finally, she stiffened and squeezed me tight with her legs as the orgasm rocked her. I slowed and opened my eyes, looking up at her. It was the most beautiful sight I could imagine as I watched her drift in and out of the blissful haze.
"Come here, sweet baby," she said, holding her arms open. I crawled up her body licking and kissing as much of her along the way as I could. When our lips were inches apart, she wrapped her arms around my neck and we kissed, trying to eat each other with our hot mouths. My lips and cheeks were covered with her cum and she seemed to relish licking it all off.
"I love making you come," I said between kisses.
"Really, I hadn't noticed."
We both giggled as we continued planting kisses all over our faces.
"You've been doing all the work," Brenda said when we finally stopped to catch our breath. "Now it's my turn."
"Heads or tails?" I asked.
"Tails, of course," she replied and scooted out from under me.
Still on my stomach, I waited until she positioned herself behind me before I pulled my knees in and stuck my ass up. I could feel her warm breath as she sniffed me like a puppy. Then she ran her tongue up and down my crack using the tip to tease my asshole before moving down to lick my pussy.
"You smell so good," she said between licks.
"Good enough to eat?" I asked with a wiggle.
Her answer was a loud moan as she pressed her face into me and devoured my pussy.
Brenda knew how much I loved being eaten from behind and electricity shot through me when her tongue went in my pussy and her nose pushed on my anus. I reached back to spread my cheeks and she rubbed my legs and ass, her experienced tongue doing exactly what I liked. "Oh, you nasty girl!" I said through clenched teeth.
Suddenly the phone rang.
"Shit!" Brenda said looking up. "Don't they know we're busy?"
Slowly I swung around out of breath, my chest heaving. "It could be mom or dad. We've got to answer it." I took her face in my hands and pulled her mouth to mine. I could taste my cum all over her.
"Fuck!" she said as we broke the kiss.
"Hold that thought." I rolled over to reach the phone on the table beside the bed. "Hello." I listened for a moment and then held my hand over the receiver. "It's Mrs. Cummings from down the street," I whispered. "She's been called into an emergency shift at the hospital and her husband's on the road. She wants to know if we could babysit Lisa tonight?"
"Lisa?"
"You know, her twelve-year-old."
While I talked with Mrs. Cummings, I watched Brenda as she slowly slipped two fingers in and out of her pussy. She knew she was driving me crazy when she brought them up and licked off her juice. With a wicked smile, she stuck her fingers deep inside her again and then offered them to me.
"Cut that out, Brenda," I whispered. "We have to decide. Do we want her over here or not?"
"Well," Brenda said between licks, "how can we fuck when there's a twelve-year-old around to watch?" Then she paused for a moment and said, "Unless..."
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I said slyly.
"Maybe we could have some three-way fun." Brenda reached over and ran her hand down between my legs.
"Is that all you think about?" I said, pushing her away.
"Oh and you don't?"
"Mrs. Cummings," I said with difficulty as Brenda played with me. "We'd love to help you out. Just send Lisa on over and don't worry about a thing. She'll be in good hands."
Brenda laughed out loud at that last comment and I found it hard to keep a straight face until I hung up. "You have the dirtiest mind of anyone I know," I said. Then I leaned over and put my lips to her ear. "Besides, what if I don't want to share you with some little twelve-year-old cunt."
Brenda ran her fingers through my hair. "Remember, lover, what's between my legs is yours anytime you want it." She kissed me hard, then said, "Now I wonder what it would take to get in Lisa's panties?"
"She is kind of cute." I casually played with Brenda's patch of pubic fleece.
"I saw her in a two-piece not too long ago," Brenda said. "She's got a nice ass and her tits are just starting to come out."
"Then let's get dressed and be ready to eat, I mean greet her."
We both laughed as I rolled off the bed and reached out my hand. Brenda took it and we headed down the hall arm-in-arm. "What do you wear to seduce a twelve-year-old girl?" I said.
"Now who's got the dirty mind?" she said and ran her hand down my bare ass.
End of part 1. | 4 |
7,144 | Tommy Fucks Meg's Brains Out | "Ha! All hail Meg the Conqueror!"
Tommy looked up from his recliner. "Hey. There's a plate in the microwave for you."
"Gee, you sound tired. I was really hoping for some victory sex," Meg grinned as she climbed Tommy's chair and straddled his legs. As Meg rubbed his shoulders, she gave him a quick kiss. "The data looks great, and just in time for the next proposal. I hate cutting things close, but geez, it feels so good right now!"
Tommy sighed inwardly. This was not a good time. Lightning had struck Howard Hall, and the computers at work were a mess. It was that much more frustrating that he had to wait until the FedEx guy showed up tomorrow before he could continue bringing things up. Tommy rested his hands on Meg's thighs and let her give him a lingering kiss. His cock stirred, but Tommy's head was doing the throbbing.
"Meg, honey, not tonight. The building got zapped by lightning, and I've spent all day trying to ferret out potential catastrophes. I need to get a fucking industry job; academia is bullshit."
Tommy saw Meg open her mouth to answer. Meg had an answer to everything, but she stopped herself. Thank god for that, just let me piss and moan for a while, Tommy thought to himself. Meg looked down at Tommy. Fuck, she's disappointed. Meg leaned down and burrowed her arms between him and the recliner, giving Tommy a vigorous hug.
"I'm sorry you had a bad day," she whispered in a small voice.
"Yeah, me too."
Meg cuddled against Tommy for a moment, but he could sense she was getting restless.
"Your dinner is in the microwave, Meg."
"Thanks, what is it?"
"Enchiladas."
"Okay, I'll be back in a sec."
Meg pushed herself up and off the chair. She looked a little comical trying to avoid kneeing Tommy or sinking a hand into his gut for support. Tommy watched as she nearly skipped into the kitchen. Damn, it would have been really great tonight...
"Ummm... Tommy?"
"Yeah?" Tommy winced with the pain of shouting.
"Do you want these enchiladas?" Meg looked sheepish as she stood at the entrance to the kitchen, holding the plate of enchiladas out in front of her.
"What's wrong with them? I thought you liked enchiladas."
"I do, but you put jalapenos in. I'm not fond of jalapenos, and I'll get heartburn."
"Fine, give them to me. What will you have?"
"Oh, just a peanut butter sandwich or something. Tell you what, when you're finished with those, what do you say to a little back rub upstairs? Make you feel better?"
"Meg... If you give me a back rub, I'll fall asleep. You sure you want that?"
"The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you'll feel happy and rested. If I'm too worked up tonight, I'll just visit with B.O.B., okay?"
B.O.B. is what Meg calls her vibrator, Battery Operated Boyfriend. Meg had a plan, Meg always had a plan. Tommy used to say that he didn't understand women; Meg's response was, "Just do exactly what we tell you to do, and everything will be fine." What the hell, if she wanted to give Tommy a back rub, he was game. Tommy took the plate that she offered him and finished her dinner.
Upstairs, Tommy lowered himself onto the bed with a groan. He buried his face in the pillow. He felt Meg straddle his bare ass and settle herself down before starting the massage. She had changed into a nightgown, and Tommy felt her damp pussy rub a little against him. Coursing blood warmed his groin.
"Uh, Meg, I'm not going to get to sleep that way..."
"Sorry, sweetie," Meg got up on her knees and leaned over Tommy's back.
Meg had small, strong hands. She often used just the heel of her palm to avoid pinching. Tommy felt the woman kneeling over him infuse warmth into his neck and shoulders, and leaning her weight into it as she worked his lower back. Tommy slipped into oblivion.
The street light still glimmered in the window when Tommy felt his cock enveloped in a warm, wet place. He rolled his shoulders and felt great. The blood surged, and the familiar ache demanded release. The blanket had been cast aside, and Meg smiled at her lover as she devoured him. Tommy disengaged her from his cock and pulled her up to him. She silently mounted him, her own urgency apparent. Meg lifted and then plunged herself down, again and again. Tommy thrust his own hips up to her, but he needed more. He needed to move his body, to push its limits. Roughly, he rolled Meg over and braced his arms on either side of her shoulders. Meg grabbed his hips and braced her feet, ready to meet his thrusts. This was a tense, muscular fuck. Meg had spread her legs wide to take Tommy in, and he could feel her follow his lead, match his rhythm.
Meg was gasping and sweating, her strong little hands kneading his ass. Tommy heard only animal sounds from his own mouth. One hand left a cheek to slip between them, and Meg began rubbing her clit. The pitch of her cries modulated to ever higher keys. Her dissonance begging for a resolution. Tommy simply thrust harder and faster, surrendering to the engorged bull within himself. Their cries mixed in a chaotic crescendo, and Tommy drove himself inside one last time. During his shuddering release, Tommy thought he heard Meg give a high-pitched squeal like the sound of burning hydrogen. It sounded odd, unnatural.
"Meg, sweetie, that was great." Tommy rolled over to one side of Meg's hot, damp body.
"Uh huh," she gasped. The early morning lights now outlined her features. Tommy leaned on his side as he stroked her hair.
"Ugh!... Shit! What is that?" Tommy jumped as his hand touched something warm and slimy on Meg's pillow. He reached for the lamp on the nightstand. The harsh yellowish glare displayed before Tommy a gray, jelly-like mass marked with deep grooves and dimples over a smooth surface, almost like a... like a...
"My god, it's a brain!" Tommy jumped back from the sight and fell off the bed.
"What's the matter?" Meg leaned over and looked down at Tommy with wonder and confusion. She didn't look right; her gaze conveyed an emptiness. Meg's eyes sparkled with neither shrewdness nor clever impishness. Whatever it was she had before was gone. Tommy's stomach dropped. It couldn't be...
"Meg? Did I hurt you? When we were...? Come here, let me look at your head."
Meg's head looked fine. Her tangled hair remained, her skull was intact. She didn't seem to be in any pain. It couldn't be *her* brain, Tommy thought. He examined her expression, vacuous. This was not good.
"Meg, do you know what that is on your pillow?" Tommy was getting a little frightened.
"I don't know." Meg looked around the room indifferently. She looked at Tommy's naked body and down between his legs.
"Snickers! I know what that is! That's your willy, I know what to do with that." Meg giggled as she got on her knees.
Tommy felt his heart pounding. Meg's brains couldn't have popped out of her head. She's a good actress; this is just a prank, he hoped.
"Stop it, Meg, this isn't funny. And I'm going to take you and this... thing to the emergency room. Just in case."
Tommy ran down to the kitchen and fetched a small picnic cooler and the cold packs from the freezer. He ran up the stairs two steps at a time to the bedroom. Meg stood naked before the full-length mirror, running her fingers in small circles over her taut nipples. A childlike smile greeted Tommy in the reflection.
"This feels good!"
"I know it does, sweetie, now let Tommy put your brain in the cooler, and we'll go see a doctor, okay?" Tommy stood over the pillow and gently lifted the mass and laid it in the cool space. "You're going to have to put your clothes on."
"I don't want to! This feels good."
"Too bad."
"You're mean. I hate you."
"Fine, you hate me. We're going to the hospital."
Tommy managed to get Meg into the car, her brain lying by her feet in the footwell. He had only put on sweatpants, and soon Meg was lying in his lap, her fingers wrapped around his cock through the fleece.
"Meg, stop that! I'm trying to drive."
"But I want to see it get big. I like when it gets big," Meg sobbed. She balled up her fists and let out a grating wail. "I want to touch it!"
"Fine! Fine, go ahead and touch it..."
By the time they reached the hospital, Meg had stroked and kissed Tommy's cock like it was a pet hamster, leaving a hot, angry cherry Popsicle in its place. Tommy was afraid to get out of the car. He grasped it in his own hand, hoping to get off quickly there in the parking lot.Meg watched with fascination, leaning in very closely.
"Meg, get back, please."
Too late. Tommy shot out onto Meg, who cried out as some of the fluid hit her eye. Once again, she crumpled into a sobbing heap.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit. Meg, come on. Time to go see the doctor."
"My eye hurts!"
Tommy wiped Meg's face with the corner of her bathrobe, hoping the nurses wouldn't notice. Meg continued sobbing as they entered the emergency room, her hands covering her face. Her bathrobe slipped open, and Tommy hugged her close while he tried to close it.
The triage nurse stood up. "What's the matter?"
"My eye hurts!"
"Ma'am, take a look at this," Tommy cried as he handed the woman the cooler.
The nurse opened the cooler. "Oh, Lord!"
The room erupted in shouts, and Tommy and Meg were escorted to an examining area. Meg pulled away whenever someone tried to touch her eye. Tommy tried to tell the attendants in vain that it wasn't her eye that was the problem. A resident rushed from behind the curtain just as the nurses had restrained Meg on the bed. Her robe lay open, and Meg's exposed body heaved and strained against the women's hands. The room was quiet as the medical staff realized there was no blood and the only thing wrong seemed to be redness around one eye.
The triage nurse spoke first. "Is this some kind of joke?"
"I swear, the stuff in the cooler is hers! It's her brain!"
The resident chimed in, "Sir, this woman is perfectly normal. There's no wound--"
"But it was right there! After we... and now she's stupid!"
"Sir!" The nurses were a Greek chorus of outrage.
"Maybe the lady would like to explain for herself?" The resident turned to Meg. "Ma'am, is there anything the matter tonight?"
"My eye hurts! I was playing with Snickers and it squirted me!"
"Snickers?"
Tommy pulled the resident aside and whispered, "It's what she calls my..."
"I see. Did this happen before or after she lost her brain? And sir, I don't comment on patients' personal lives, but taking advantage of a mentally retarded woman..."
"Listen, she's a scientist! Here's her purse! Here's an old name tag from a conference in Rome, what else can I show you... Shit... she woke me up this morning, and we were having sex... wild animal sex, you know, and then..."
"... You fucked her brains out? You really expect me to believe that?"
Tommy stared at the resident. That was it. Tommy had fucked Meg's brains out. Defeat mocked him like those forty-five minutes in the Small World ride watching three Peruvian dolls going up and down, singing that damn song in Spanish over and over. The resident looked at Tommy and then at Meg's exposed body.
"I suppose we could give her a CT scan to see if everything is okay..."
Before Tommy and a technician cajoled Meg onto the apparatus, she happily exchanged her bathrobe for a hospital gown. With a bit of shame, Tommy felt Snickers come to attention as Meg displayed the open back of the gown in a fit of lascivious delight.
"You can see my fanny now," she giggled. "Do you want to play again, Tommy? I want Snickers again."
"Not now, Meg," replied Tommy as he tried to avoid the gaze of the CT technicians. If only Meg had been that eager about public sex before, Tommy thought.
"I like the doctor. Do you think he'd like to play with us?"
"I don't doubt that he would," Tommy replied before he considered how sarcasm would be understood in Meg's current state.
"I'll ask him."
Great, Tommy thought. Just great.
The resident walked in; Meg hopped over and gave him a powerful hug. She then turned her backside to the doctor.
"Look, you can see my fanny!"
"Yes, uh, yes I can."
"Doc, let's just get this over with, okay?"
With the promise of a chocolate-covered Snickers and a cherry Popsicle from the doctor, Meg allowed herself to be placed on the apparatus. She soon tired of lying absolutely still. Tommy looked at the video screen and grabbed the microphone.
"Meg! Stop playing with yourself!"
Meg tried to look around, but her head was braced against any movement. She muttered in a sulky voice, "How did he know?" Meg shouted out to nowhere in particular, "Tommy, I don't want Snickers anymore! Snickers is yucky! You hear me? Yucky!"
The bench moved far too slow for Tommy, his fingers tapping an irritated staccato on the counter. The resident tried to make conversation. "Um, Mr. Dubois? Perhaps you can tell me why she wants me to give her a cherry Popsicle?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"I suppose not," stammered the young resident. "I admit this case has been rather unusual. Wait, here come the images... look at that!"
"What? What are we looking at?"
"Mr. Dubois, from what I can tell, Dr. Kruger here has no cerebral cortex! That must be her brain in the cooler! I'm amazed she can function at all, there must be enough left for her to speak and that's it!"
"Oh shit, now what?"
"Well, these later images show that she does still have her cerebellum and probably her hippocampus, etc. which all control more basic functions. Dr. Kruger still can experience anger, fear, and...sexual urges. She's no longer able to execute more involved cognitive tasks."
"Well, can we put her brain back?"
"Oh, I don't think so. I'm not a neurologist, but I doubt that brain you've got there is still viable, and she seems to be functioning adequately..."
"You call that adequate?"
The resident paused, "Mr. Dubois, if I were in your situation... I don't know, I guess I'd sit back and enjoy it. Meg is quite affectionate."
A voice came over the speaker, "Can I get out?"
"Of course, Meg. We'll move you back out now..."
Tommy tried to let it sink in. Meg was now an airhead, quite literally. Stupid and horny as seventh-grade detention hall. Freed from the scanner, Meg bounced over to him.
"I want Snickers!"
"I thought you said you didn't like Snickers, that Snickers was yucky."
"I didn't say that. You're a liar. I want Snickers."
"Meg, not here, when we get home you can have Snickers."
Meg ignored Tommy, "Doctor, I want you to play with us, come on!" Meg kneeled in front of Tommy. "See Doctor? You can see my fanny. You want to play with us?"
The resident smiled at Meg and then at Tommy. "Yes, Meg's quite affectionate," he chuckled as his hand went to his belt buckle.
Tommy tried to sit up, but Meg held his cock with a kung fu grip. "You can't be serious! We're in a hospital! You're supposed to be in the emergency room!" Tommy's head swam as Meg's head bobbed around his cock, the doctor beating the counter tempo into her backside.
"Meg, stop! Please!"
"What is the matter with you? You love this in the morning." Meg looked up from between Tommy's legs. They were in bed together, the early light streaming in from the east.
Tommy sat up quickly, and his head swam until the blood caught up with him. He looked around the room, at Meg, and then at her pillow. On it were only a few fine brown hairs. Tommy felt a sharp pain in his abdomen.
FFFFFRRRRRRRPPP.
"Oh god, Tommy! You couldn't have waited?... oh christ, and I'm right here. This is so gross... It was those enchiladas, jalapenos are a tool of the devil, you know."
"Oh, man, Meg, I'm sorry!" Tommy began laughing in spite of himself, "But that would explain the crazy dream I had, I dreamt I fucked your brains out."
"That's a crazy dream? Gee, thanks Tommy."
"No, you lost your brains when I fucked you, just popped right out."
"Well, I can imagine losing my mind from your lovemaking, but brains popping? ... so what happened?"
"You were this complete airhead, a horny airhead. It wasn't so bad..."
Meg smacked Tommy with her pillow, "First you fart in my face and now you're dreaming of airheads, this is turning out to be a great morning!"
Tommy restrained Meg with an enormous bear hug, "Actually, it sucked. I really wanted your brain back."
Tommy gazed down into Meg's most sentimental, Precious Moments face, "You mean that?"
"Yes, I do," he said, kissing her nose softly.
"If you're in the mood for some wild victory sex, I think I could forgive the farting incident."
"I'd like that." Tommy dipped his head and sucked the tender skin behind Meg's ear as she straddled him.
"Why am I suddenly in the mood for a cherry Popsicle?" | 3 |
7,186 | Awakenings | "Omigod..." Kathryn gasped breathlessly as she felt another rising crest wash through her body.
Her body covered with sweat, she couldn't believe the ecstasy her quaking form had experienced over the last quarter hour. Never in her life had she imagined that another person could make her feel this good.
When she had first stepped into Yolanda's bedroom, and then to her bed, she had expected the experience to be similar to that brief moment with Sally. She couldn't have imagined how far beyond that it would quickly reach.
Despite her desire to try and return the brief pleasure that Yolanda had given her downstairs, the older girl directed her to just stretch out on the bed and relax. There would be time enough later for her to take a more active part.
The room was lit by the light of a dozen candles, spread out across the room. Shadowless light that reflected off the now nude form of the South American woman. As she stood there, Kathryn had a few moments to fully admire the artistry of her friend's body. She would quickly discover that unlike other more conventional works of art, this one could produce more than a passing reaction.
Following her friend's instruction, Kathryn had climbed onto the large platform bed, her dress left on the floor next to it. She'd taken hold of the waistband of her plain yellow panties to remove them but was interrupted.
"No, I'll do that," Yolanda said as she reached down and stopped her.
Joining her friend on the bed, Yolanda straddled her and began to rub her neck. As her fingers worked, she leaned over and began to kiss her way down her back. She started at her neck and slowly traversed the warm flesh with both her fingers and lips, whispering quiet terms of endearment as she went.
As she moved, her hand drifted alongside Kathryn's breasts and traced a fine line down them with her nails. When she reached the top edge of Kathryn's bikini briefs, she took hold of the waistband with her teeth and pulled them down, exposing the plump pale cheeks of Kathryn's ass. The woman beneath her lifted herself a few inches off the surface of the bed to allow Yolanda to draw the briefs down and off her legs.
"You have a beautiful ass," Yolanda chuckled as she looked down at Kathryn's left cheek. On impulse, she kissed it.
A new series of kisses followed as Yolanda covered both cheeks. Her tongue left a shiny trail that began just at the crack between her valley and went down and across to the hairy red mound on the other end.
Stretching out her fingers against those mounds, she exposed Kathryn's sex and pressed her tongue deep within it.
"Ooooo" Kathryn moaned as she again lifted herself to give greater access.
With all the skill she'd gained over the years since she'd discovered other girls at the age of fifteen, Yolanda played her new lover's pussy like a musical instrument. Each motion of her slippery tongue sent little charges through her friend. She savored the taste that coated her tongue, a delight she'd dreamed of since the day she had walked into Moore and Rand and met the women now laid out before her.
As much as she wanted this to go on forever, she knew there were still many pleasures she wanted to share with her friend.
She spun Kathryn over and turned her own body around so that the redheaded woman would have access to her own cunt. She easily slid the remains of her own underwear to the floor and once more climbed on top.
Still quivering from what she knew was just the first of the night's joys, Kathryn stared in fascination at the sight of her friend's naked cunt only a few inches from her mouth. It was beautiful, she thought. The scent of Yolanda's sex was almost overpowering, and to her delight, she learned with her first lick that the taste was all she hoped it would be. Yolanda lowered her pelvis, so that Kathryn could have easier access to her wet cunt. She gave Kathryn free reign, allowing her to set the pace of her actions.
Slowly at first, Kathryn licked her lover, exploring her womanhood, savoring her taste. Then she began to quicken the pace until she reached a rhythm that sent little ripples throughout Yolanda's body. As they slowly built in intensity, Yolanda knew they would eventually lead to orgasm.
Satisfied that Kathryn was comfortable and well on her way, Yolanda turned her attentions back to the now saturated mound before her own mouth. Parting Kathryn's lips, she quickly went back to work and expertly matched Kathryn's rhythm. Their bodies were in sync as they heaved and sweated in a building passion.
The rising waves of ecstasy filling her body told Yolanda that Kathryn was definitely a diamond in the rough. What would she be like with some more practice? As she felt herself cresting, the twenty-seven-year-old pressed her cunt down against Kathryn's face, while simultaneously driving her own tongue as deep inside Kathryn as it would go. Their orgasm was almost simultaneous, and as powerful as any Yolanda had experienced.
They laid there wrapped in each other's embrace for a few moments, simply enjoying the warmth of each other's body. Kathryn swore that she could feel the beat of Yolanda's heart as their bodies pressed together as the noise of both their labored breaths filled the room.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Yolanda said as she stepped into the bedroom carrying a breakfast tray filled with various foods. "I wasn't sure exactly what you like in the morning, seeing as you seem to live on tea and danish in the office, but I'm sure there's something here that you'll like."
Kathryn rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she adjusted to the sunlight filling the room. She couldn't believe it was morning already. The last thing she remembered was that she and Yolanda were making love for the third, or was it fourth time. She remembered the heat of their bodies as she held each other tight, their pussies on fire as they rubbed them against each other until they'd exploded in an exhausting orgasm. After that, she must've collapsed from fatigue.
"It all looks marvelous," she said as she took a small morsel from the tray Yolanda had set down on the bed. "I've famished."
"I've no doubt that you are," Yolanda said as she sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed Kathryn on the cheek.
"I have to say last night was incredible," Kathryn said as she took a sip of tea.
"You're not going to get any argument there from me," Yolanda smiled as she took a taste of her coffee.
"I do love you," Kathryn said, repeating her statement of the previous night.
"I know you do," Yolanda replied as she set the coffee cup down. "And I feel the same way about you."
"Why do I have a feeling that there's a 'but' somewhere in that statement," Kathryn said.
Yolanda smiled.
"But..." she began. "I want you to make sure you're going into this with your eyes wide open."
"I am," was Kathryn's simple reply.
"Not right now you're not," Yolanda corrected her. "Maybe a month from now you could say that, but not this morning. Right now you're riding the wave of some really great sex, and that's fine. As long as you can recognize that for what it is."
"I guess you're right," Kathryn said as she thought about it.
"So we just take it a step at a time," Yolanda said as she crawled into the bed next to Kathryn. "And if this all turns out to be is a little lust, well I'm sure we can deal with that too," she added as she kissed Kathryn on the lips.
"I think I need a shower," Kathryn abruptly said as she became aware of her body's reaction to the previous night's exertions.
"Yes, you do," Yolanda grinned. "I've already had one, but I'd be happy to help wash your back."
"Just my back?" Kathryn smiled back.
Kathryn didn't make it home for lunch that Sunday afternoon, or dinner for that matter. She showed up for work Tuesday morning in a dress she borrowed from Yolanda.
By the end of the week, she had told Eric that it was over between them, and he took it with what she concluded was a sense of relief. He never confirmed her suspicions about him and Tracy, but three months later, the two of them were married. And it was only five months later that Tracy presented Papa Foster with his first grandchild.
Angela's rise to the top suffered a fatal setback when her boss suffered a heart attack one cold January afternoon. Thankfully, it wasn't during one of their private consultations.Her replacement, a no-nonsense woman named Joan Miller, quickly had the former assistant reassigned to a position more in tune with her office skills, or lack thereof.
It was no real surprise to most that the position of administrative assistant that opened with that reassignment was offered to Kathryn. She had proven time and again what an asset she'd quickly become to the company.
What did come as a surprise was both her decision to turn down the job and then resign from the company. She explained in resigning that she'd been offered a position with Southstar Enterprises. Few of her associates had ever heard of the company, but a quick computer check by the curious would find it described by the industry journals as a rapidly expanding computer support company.
What few friends she still had at Moore and Ryan wished her luck -- and happiness at least.
Kathryn assured them that she was sure she'd found both. | 4 |
7,211 | Hired Help | "Can you explain why we are going to a wedding?" she asked. "On a Sunday night?"
"It's not exactly a wedding, actually," he said. "It is a renewal of marriage vows. It is their anniversary, and it coincidentally happens to fall on a Sunday this year."
This answer did not satisfy her, but she decided to change tactics. "Who is getting married? Or getting renewed, anyway?"
Richard led her over to the ring of keys in her room and unlocked her maid's outfit. "You have actually already met the man. Henry and his wife Vicki are going to be the guests of honor," he said as he unzipped her black latex French maid's costume. Richard next unlocked her shoes and detached the garters from her rubber stockings.
"I bet you already have something picked out for me to wear," she said.
"That's one way to put it," he said as he unrolled her rubber stockings down her legs. "In fact, you are to be one of the bridesmaids."
She was confused by that. "I don't understand," she said.
Richard had taken everything off of her except for her chastity belt and rubber corset. He unlocked the chastity belt and then started to loosen her rubber corset. "Don't worry about it. Just take a bath, make yourself pretty, and by the time you're done, I'll have your outfit ready.
She followed his directions, and sure enough, by the time that she was done, Richard was waiting there, in her bedroom. He was wearing a skintight rendition of a tuxedo done in shiny leather, complete with leather tie. Her outfit was laid out on the bed.
First, Richard picked up a pair of purple thigh-high boots. They looked to be made of shiny vinyl, and the heels were at least six inches high. They closed by lacing up the front.
Jennifer sat down on the bed so that he could put them on her legs. It took him fifteen minutes to lace them up her legs. "How do they feel?" he said.
She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. "Actually," she said, taking an experimental step in them, "They seem fine." In fact, they felt like they gave her more support than her stiletto shoes. It was a bit less difficult to walk in these, she decided.
There was only one other piece to the outfit. It looked like a frilly purple bridesmaid dress, done in shiny purple vinyl. It had a high neck and long sleeves, but there were two small holes in the front that were about where her nipples should be.
As she stepped into it, she saw that in the back it had the lacings of a built-in corset. Sure enough, her nipples protruded through the holes in the dress. As Richard slowly tightened the corset, she could feel her nipples starting to protrude through their holes.
"Oh, god!" she said as he tugged his last time. "How tight is that?" she asked.
"Just a touch above twenty inches, when fully closed," he said. "It is fully closed now."
Jennifer looked at herself in the mirror now. Purple vinyl extended from her neck to the floor, with long sleeves. Her breasts almost seemed to be bursting out of the outfit through the two small holes in the front. The corset gave her an ever so tiny waist, which was emphasized by the flare of the full skirt below.
"Let's go," he said, offering his arm for her. She took ahold of it, and accompanied him out of her bedroom. No chastity belt, she noted mentally. Maybe tonight...
There was a limousine waiting out front. "Don't worry about the driver seeing you," Richard said. "He's from Fantasy Supreme."
"If you say so," she said.
Richard guided her into the huge back seat first, then sat down beside her. As he shut the door behind them, the limousine started to slowly move.
Jennifer slowly moved her hand over to Richard's leather-covered crotch. "Can we play on the way there?" she asked.
Richard shook his head, but did not jerk her hand away. "He's less than fifteen minutes away. I would really rather not."
Jennifer sighed against the tightness of the corset that was built into her vinyl dress. "All right," she said, but she did not remove her hand. She left it there, moving it ever so slightly, for the entire trip.
Her efforts were rewarded as she felt his penis slowly hardening on the way there. By the time that they stopped, it was as rock hard as she had ever felt it.
Richard seemed to be moving a bit uncomfortably as he exited the limo. He offered his hand to assist her out of the car.
Jennifer saw that they were at yet another mansion. The sun had nearly fallen, and a cool breeze that swept by put goosebumps on her exposed nipples.
Richard escorted her up the path that led to the front door. He knocked on the door, and it opened almost immediately.
"Come in," said a woman dressed in a satin French maid's outfit. It was very similar to the one that she had worn, Jennifer noticed. She wore five and a half inch stiletto heels and fishnet stockings. The skirt of her outfit dropped lower than Jennifer's, but was just as wide. She guessed that there was a corset underneath it. The outfit did not go up her neck, but stopped a bit below that.
Richard helped her through the doorway. Jennifer immediately saw that there was a second woman dressed almost identically to the first. However, this woman was nearly five inches taller in height.
"You can follow me," this one said in a lower, huskier voice. They followed this satin French maid through the hallway and gestured for them to go through an open double doorway.
The maid turned and walked back where she came from. "Henry and Vicki have two very talented servants," Richard whispered to her as they walked forward. "The one that first greeted us is Becky. The one that led us here is Arnold."
"Arnold?!" she said with an excited whisper. "That was a man?!"
"Indeed," he said. "In fact, if I'm not mistaken, Becky and Arnold were married themselves a couple of months ago."
Jennifer's brain did not know how to handle this information. She was so confused that it took her a few seconds to start looking around the large ballroom that they were now in.
Three large crystal chandeliers illuminated the long rectangular hall. Jennifer and Richard had entered at one end of the hall. There was a long red carpet ahead of them, which ended at a small raised platform.Soft music was playing in the hall. Jennifer could see that there were two tuxedo-clad men standing near the end of the aisle on one side, and two similarly dressed women on the other. "It's already started," he said. "I'll show you to your place. Remember, stand still and be quiet. For me," he said, looking into her eyes.
"For you," she repeated, looking back. She kept looking at his beautiful eyes and supported herself against him as they traveled down the aisle.
He stopped, and she turned to see where they had ended up.
To her right, there were two women that she did not recognize. The one furthest away was no older than she was, while the nearer one was perhaps in her mid-thirties. Both were dressed as she was, in the purple vinyl bridesmaid dresses, complete with holes for the nipples and built-in corsets. From their height, she guessed that they were wearing similar high heels. They both looked at her, but were standing still and at attention.
In front of her, there was a metal pole built into the floor. It came up about two feet, and then ended in a rectangular metal block. Two dildos protruded upward from the block, just inches apart, and there was something on the block between the dildos. It looked like both phalluses had been well lubricated.
Jennifer gave him a questioning, somewhat alarmed look. "Just like the red dress," he whispered. "You can do it." This *is* just his kind of kinky thing to do, isn't it! Jennifer thought. He'd *better* appreciate this!
Jennifer lifted up her dress and turned around. She moved so that her crotch was right over the two phalluses. Carefully, she sat down, letting both of them find an orifice. "All the way," she heard him whisper.
Finally, she was all the way down on the two dildos. They felt cool, and slid inside of her more easily than she could have believed possible. The feel of the dildos was starting to make her hot. When she was done, the flesh between her pussy and anus was now touching the cold rectangle of metal. She was surprised to hear the low hum of a mechanical device. To her surprise, she felt the pole underneath her start to slowly move up.
Jennifer shot him a panicked look, but Richard smiled reassuringly at her. The dildos could not go any further into her, because the metal plate acted like a very narrow seat for her. She kept going higher and higher and higher...
It stopped only when her legs were fully extended out underneath her. If she unbent her knees at all, she felt her weight start to concentrate uncomfortably in that tiny region of flesh that touched the metal. As she was already standing on her tiptoes in these six-plus-inch stiletto heels, there was no way that she could get the dildos out of her.
I'm stuck here, she thought to herself. Richard, still smiling, took a place across from her, some fifteen feet away.
By the time that this was done, the next procession had come down the aisle. But this was not a couple. Instead, it was just one person in a bridesmaid dress like her own, being escorted by Becky the French maid. But the nipples poking through the holes in the bridesmaid dress looked fake, somehow. The corset looked to be very tight around the waist, but the final figure was not that dramatic. And the face...
It had enough stubble that she knew that it had to be a man. And... it looked like one of the men that Richard had over that Friday night... John!
There were two poles with dildos left on her right side that were not occupied. Becky did not lead him over to the poles. Instead, she unscrewed the front dildo from its socket and replaced it with something resembling a penis sheath that would stick out horizontally instead of vertically. After she had done this, he picked up his dress and turned around. Jennifer could see that he wore matching purple patent boots that had heels at least as high as her own, if not higher. John rolled his eyes at Jennifer briefly, sighed, and slowly sat down on the rear dildo. When he was done, Becky reached under his dress and guided his penis into the sheath that now was a part of the device.
Just as had happened to her, the pole started to raise up. As this was happening, Becky turned and walked back up the aisle. Jennifer noticed that there was no one standing across the aisle from him.
Let's see... Jennifer tried to remember the names of the people here while she shifted and tried to find a more comfortable way to stand.
The first man was Collin, the young man that she had remembered. He stood across from the woman that was Jennifer's age. Then there was Ben across from the woman in her thirties. Then Richard of course, looking at her as she fidgeted. She felt herself actually blush at the attention.
On my other side is John, the bridesmaid. That leaves... she wasn't able to remember the last one.
A couple walked down the aisle. The name Adam came to mind. A woman in her late twenties held his arm and traveled down the aisle with him. She was dressed as the rest of the bridesmaids. She seemed to be walking unsteadily in her footwear.
Adam guided her to the last empty double dildo pole, and helped her get on it. That one too raised up, and made her stand up at attention as Adam took up a place across from her.
The music changed to a wedding march. Jennifer looked towards the entrance, and saw a pair that was very slowly traveling down the aisle. Jennifer looked the other way, and saw that Arnold, the very convincing transvestite French maid, was standing on the platform waiting for them.
A low hum started in the dildo in her vagina. Jennifer looked over to Richard. He only put his finger to his lips and shook his head.
The vibrations grew in intensity as the couple made its way down the aisle. She thought that she heard vibrations coming from both sides of her, as well. Jennifer looked at the woman on her left, and saw that she was clenching her teeth. John on her other side was fidgeting and twisting back and forth, setting his vinyl skirt swaying.
Jennifer was having a very hard time staying silent and keeping still when the bride and groom walked by. The groom was wearing a metal-studded leather collar, shiny black leather gloves, and a pair of black leather shorts. There was a hole in his shorts, and his erect penis was standing out at attention, with a slight upward angle. In his hands, he held a chain that connected to a leather collar around the bride's neck.
The bride caught Jennifer's attention. There was a very filmy white veil over her, but it was so translucent that Jennifer could make everything out underneath it. The bride was wearing a white leather harness around her head that had a built-in leather blindfold and a gag. Below that was a white leather posture collar that kept her from slouching her neck.
She wore a brassiere, of sorts. It consisted of two strips of leather about three inches wide that tightly circled the base of each breast. They were held in place with straps around her back and her shoulders. Each nipple was pushed against a small metal ring that was held tightly in place by four chains that connected to the leather breast wrap.
At her waist, she wore what was either a very wide white leather belt, or a very narrow white leather corset. It looked to be cinched very tightly, and there was a noticeable bulge of flesh both above and below it. At both sides of the belt, there were wide white leather arm cuffs attached. The bride's wrists were firmly restrained there by the cuffs.
From the front, the bride looked to be wearing a white leather hobble skirt that extended from waist to floor. But as she passed, Jennifer saw that almost all of the back was cut away. There were buckling straps in back at the waist, at the knees, and at the ankles. But other than that, her entire backside below the waist was open for viewing.
Jennifer also saw that the bride was wearing white patent shoes with over six-inch-tall heels. Her backless leather skirt was buckled so tightly that she could only step three or four inches at a time. So that's why she was taking so long, Jennifer thought. Jennifer also noticed a strap that went through the bride's butt cheeks, that did not seem to be a part of the skirt. Jennifer concluded that the poor girl was probably wearing a chastity belt under all that, as well.
The two of them slowly marched by as quickly as the bride could inch along. Behind the bride, tending the bride's long veil, was the French maid Becky, in her black satin uniform and black stilettos. She now had a cord around her throat that had a key on it.
The trio finally stopped in front of the platform. The vibrations in her groin were becoming unbearable. Just as Jennifer shifted forward enough to get the vibrations away from her clitoris, the one in her anus started to quiver ever so slightly.
"Dearly belusted," the pastor/French maid said. The voice was either that of a high-pitched man or a low-pitched woman. "We are gathered here today for a joyous event. We are here to witness the joining and coupling of this man and woman. Look, all, and witness the bonds of attraction that join the two of them.
Bonds of attraction.. oh god! Jennifer had to stifle a moan and clench her teeth. She looked over and saw that Richard was grinning at her like a fiend.
"Witness her bridal finery! Is she not an object of lust? And witness his fine show of manhood! Does he not lust for her?"
The male French maid looked down at the two of them. "Let us recite our vows, and take them to heart. You, Henry, do you take this woman..."
"Yes! Anytime! Anyplace! As often as possible!" the groom blurted out.
"I'm not done yet," said the pastor/maid.
The four assembled men chuckled.None of the girls (or John) chuckled at all. Jennifer assumed that they were trying to keep the fires in their groin at bay.
"As I was saying," continued the pastor, in his satin maid's outfit, stiletto heels, and fishnets. "Do you, Henry, take this woman, Vicki, to be your wife and slave?"
"I do!"
"And do you promise to use her as you will, to express your lust and your deepest fantasies with her, and bring her pleasure like none seen before on earth?"
"I do!"
"Vicki, I would also ask you to recite your vows, but you cannot right now. So I will recite them for you."
"I, Vicki, promise to be a willing and sexy companion for Henry. I will dress to keep him as horny as humanly possible. I promise to couple with him as frequently and as frantically as the limits of my flesh allow. And I promise to bring him pleasure like none seen on this earth before! Grunt once if you agree."
There was a single grunt from the bride. Jennifer was frantically clutching at her dress with her hands, trying to stay under control. She was sure that her juices were dripping down the pole and were now probably pooling on the floor.
"Is there a key for the bride?" the pastor/maid Arnold asked.
"There is," said the French maid Becky. She took it off of her neck and handed it to Henry.
"You may disrobe the bride," the pastor/maid instructed.
Henry threw back her veil and quickly unbuckled her hobble skirt. As it fell to the floor, Jennifer saw that she had guessed right. The bride wore a white leather chastity belt under the backless hobble skirt. Eagerly, he put the key into the heart-shaped lock in the front of the belt and removed it from her.
"You may now take the bride," the pastor/maid Arnold instructed. "And the assembled masses can now voice their pleasure at the event."
Almost in unison, the five purple-dressed women and one man let out groans and moans of pleasure. Henry had already lowered his bride to the floor and was now frantically thrusting away inside of her.
"Remember, guests!" said the maid/pastor. "No fornicating on the grounds except for the bride and groom. If you truly must, please leave. Of course, you are all welcome to witness the blessed event for as long as you like."
Jennifer saw the older gentleman Ben go over to his companion and bodily lift her off of the dildoes. The woman staggered as Ben eagerly led her out the door.
All the others left except for Richard and the male bridesmaid John. He was grunting and groaning in his predicament just as desperately as Jennifer was.
There's no one to let him down, Jennifer thought. She looked over to Richard, who, Jennifer thought, should have taken her off of her stand and hauled her out to the car. But instead, he just stood there and smiled as the two vibrating phalluses brought her made her scream as she reached an orgasm. Maybe that was a bad idea, Jennifer thought as the tightness of the corset affected her after her screaming orgasm and made her head swim. She felt herself starting to fall...
And felt Richard's strong arms catch her bent torso. He straightened her out, then lifted her off of her double dildo restraint.
Jennifer did not actually pass out from the experience, but felt lightheaded. She staggered along in the heels that were impossible to walk in now. She caught a glimpse of the bride and groom still going strong as they left. The two maids were nowhere to be seen as Richard pulled her into the limousine and closed the door to the vehicle.
The lightheaded feeling was almost gone after just a minute of riding. "So," she said to Richard. "We're no longer on the grounds. Is fornicating allowed now?"
He smiled at that as he unzipped the fly on his leather tuxedo pants. "Driver, take the scenic route back," he said. Richard threw up her dress, and even with her soaking wet crotch, she was a bit startled by the force he used to push her down on the seat and thrust his rock-hard penis inside of her.
She floated higher and higher as he had his way with her. Jennifer felt detached from her body, almost like she was an observer. Her chest labored against the built-in corset, and her legs waved their purple spike-heeled boots in the air.
Two orgasms swept through her in quick succession. She thought that she felt him ejaculate, but she was so lost in her own experiences that she just wasn't sure. Richard paused afterwards to use his lips and tongue on her exposed nipples. She felt an erotic chill pass through her body as he sucked and played with the two tender points of flesh.
He now dove below her dress, and she felt him probe her drenched pussy. With lips and tongue... he only toyed with her. For minutes and minutes, he brought her ever so slowly up to another moment of ecstasy.
Jennifer heaved and flailed in her corset. But Richard was patient... his tongue stayed just millimeters away from that spot that she knew would give her release.
Suddenly, he was thrusting inside of her again. The intensity of the long-overdue climax, with the tightness around her chest, was just too much for her. Jennifer rolled her head and started to lose consciousness yet again.
Maybe I'll get to do this with Richard sometime *without* a corset, Jennifer thought as the last wisps of consciousness fled. | 3 |
7,227 | Educating Darren | "You mustn't get too excited yet, or you will spoil everything. But don't worry, I will let you come before you leave here, I promise," she said, realizing that he was far too aroused to have taken everything she had just said in.
"If you lie down on your back over there," she pointed to the spot, "I will play with it some more. I know you want some more, don't you?"
"Yes, Madam," was his response, and she positively glowed in triumph.
"Oh, how sweet, you remembered the correct form of address. I knew you could do it if you tried. Of course, the right motivation helps too, doesn't it?"
"Yes, Madam."
She gave a little chuckle, as if she were enjoying her own private joke, and then clicked her fingers and pointed to the floor again.
He did as he was told because he was desperate for her to continue. He wanted her touch, and his only chance of that was to do as she said. Nothing else seemed to matter at this point.
As soon as he was in position, he heard her click her fingers again, and Alise appeared carrying what appeared to be a large plastic box, which she placed on the ground behind his head. He then felt his head being lifted and placed in position inside the box. He tried to struggle, but it was too late; he heard the clicking of catches as a perspex sheet encased his neck. He found himself looking up at what appeared to be the underside of a toilet seat. The lid was still down, and it was barely an inch or two from his nose. He had been permanently attached to this receptacle.
As she lifted the lid, Caroline's next words confirmed his worst fears, "I'm afraid watching you go has made me want to go too!" | 4 |
7,285 | Mr. Bounders Gets Car Jacked | "I will always love you," the country singer drawled, while Steve turned on the right blinker and eased onto the exit ramp. Headlights from the other cars whizzed past him as he got off the freeway towards Greenway Avenue, then accelerated to make the yellow light.
In his shiny sport utility vehicle, Steve Bounders represented that young segment of the American population who possessed blow-dried hair, wire-rimmed glasses, the slightest hint of a pot belly beneath his crisp navy suit, and a freshly shaven look that said, "I just got my M.B.A. and this shiny Gucci briefcase, so don't mess with me." Yes sir, Mr. Bounders was on top of the world.
Anyway, the Explorer rolled down the deserted 8th Street, heading home towards a lovely wife and a warm meal. Steve was tempted to run a stop sign with nobody around, but he pulled to a halt anyway for the full three seconds. Suddenly, a figure had yanked open the unlocked door of the passenger side and jumped into the truck.
"What the f..." He turned towards the assailant.
A hand rose to cover his eyes, and he felt something hard jammed into his ribs. A feminine voice said, "Look straight ahead and drive, Mr. Bounders, or you can watch me do an appendectomy for free." Mr. Bounders had no idea what an appendectomy was, though he suspected there was no such thing. Either way, he knew that he had better watch the road and step on the gas. His voice quavered as he said, "Lady, you can have anything you want. Anything! You want this watch? Rolex! You want the Brooks Brothers outfit? My wallet, credit card, checkbook, anything, okay!?"
"Just drive."
As they curved around the city park, Steve felt a tug on his pants, and the next thing he knew, someone was holding his scared little jimmy with very, very long nails. "Woah! Hey!!
Whatever it was poked harder into his side. "Keep driving."
Unexpectedly, a woman's head, swirling with green, pink, and blonde hair, fell onto his lap, and warm lips engulfed the length of Mr. Happy, who was really more of a Mr. Scared right now. Mr. Bounders was too frightened out of his wits to appreciate this impromptu kidnapping of his appendage, and nearly swerved into an incoming police car from the shock of it.
"Lady, what the HELL are you trying to do?"
She replied with his dick still in her mouth, "Pow-er and shut the engine off or I'll bite your dick off." Then, he felt teeth...
Her incisors and the words "dick" and "off" were enough to convince Mr. Bounders to pull into one of the city park's car lots and shut off the engine. Candy's head began to rise, and with the movement of her tongue and the graze of her teeth, his breath caught in his throat. It took a few more bobs of her head and his uneasily growing erection to jolt him into reality. Mr. Bounders gingerly placed his hands over her head and tapped her.
"Ugh... pardon me, miss...ooh....may I ask what is going on? Ow!"
The hand with the nails released its hold, and Steve saw it reappear in front of him, holding what appeared to be a white business card. The front of the card was for some insurance company, but the hand flipped over and he saw something handwritten in blue ink. Alternating between the median and the card, his eyes followed the words:
"Honey, I am so tired of you coming home and jumping me like some horny cow. I'm swamped with work tonight, so I've hired Candy here to get you off before you arrive. There's pizza in the oven and some beer in the fridge. Don't knock on my office when you get back.
Love, Leanne."
"Leanne?" he asked incredulously, "Is this for real?" He loved his wife for her passion and the occasional kink, but this was...this was nuts! His nuts, more precisely, at the mercy of a total stranger!
Candy hummed a most deliciously emphatic "umm-hmm..." and hunched over to take even more of his stiffening length in her throat. She didn't dare let him out of her mouth for fear of allowing him a split second to escape, so she maintained her capture of his most cherished organ. Mr. Bounders' hands tried to ease her head away, but every time he applied pressure, he got a warning nip that achieved a lightning-quick result. Resigned to his fate, Mr. Bounders lay his hands on her delicate shoulders and rubbed them absentmindedly while her lips, teeth, tongue, and throat worked their charm.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" exclaimed Mr. Bounders, as he felt several fingers dig beneath his fly, and out flopped Mr. Happy's cousins, Ernie and Bert. Candy's hot pink nails strummed dangerously across the wrinkled sac. He tried desperately to pull his testicles away from her hand with inner muscles he never knew existed, but between the threat of her teeth and those nails - they had to be fake to be so sharp, didn't they? - there really was nowhere to go. He flipped on the radio and heard someone sing:
"And another one bites the dust. And another one bites and another one bites and another one bites the dust." Nope. Wrong station.
He could feel Candy giggle at the song, bouncing him against her throat. While her fingers scurried across his balls, Candy's salivating mouth continued to rise and fall against its prisoner. She let her tongue twirl around the head, felt the tug and sway of flushed skin, then stroked his underside with a deft, lingual flip. He could smell peaches wafting up from her bobbing hair.
Squick, squock, squick, squock. Well lubricated, her lips rode his shaft, her tongue bumped his across his phallic bulb and slid along that short ridge of skin below. The windows of the Explorer fogged, and the interior cabin echoed the thrush of heavy breathing, while crickets chirped outside.
"Women can tell the kind of man you are by the way he drives his truck."
Oh, good. Hadn't heard that song in a while. "Yeah and all of that," Mr. Bounders muttered. His hands held the steering wheel in a death grip while he gazed ahead with wide eyes like a possessed race car driver. Candy tittered, but kept trucking as she hummed along with the crooning singer for several minutes.
Squick squock. Squick Squock. Squick squick squick. Hmmmm.... hmm.... her mouth vibrated with the chorus.
He stared without seeing at the shadowy trees, and then whimpered a bit as she rose up with suction, up to the tip of his dick, and caught the flesh of those miniature lips in the light vise of her teeth. She held him like that, pinched and barely breathing; the rest of his skin, glistening wet, chilled in the open air, while she kneaded his balls with the palm of her hand and his dick with her thumb. "Ooh... owww... ooooh.... uhm, miss? Miss Candy? I just thought you'd want to know that I'm about t...OH, GOD OH LORD!"
At that moment, her fingers closed tightly into a fist with his testes still inside, while her mouth softened into a hot oral groove that plunged down, cascading over his head and venous trunk until her lips crashed against his base. Candy's entire mouth - lips, cheeks, and all - gripped him forcefully, and her tongue insistently undulated in waves while her throat tried to swallow him again and again. Poor Mr. Bounders! He thought Candy was surely going to suck his prick right off! He unsuccessfully tried to warn her that he couldn't hold back any longer; "Please! I... God!... I can't... you know, Miss Candy, I'm about... huh UH.. to... UGGNNNGHHHHH!!!!!!!" Thrashing and writhing, Mr. Bounder could think of nothing but the explosive ecstasy of her simmering mouth. His eyes rolled back and his throat constricted. She continued massaging his scrotum and milking him with her tightly clamped mouth, hanging on for dear life. With her middle finger, Candy wedged a knuckle against his perineum, bracing against his jerking hips as he pumped into her gullet.
"Thank God I'm a country boy!" Strum, strum, strum went the radio.
Despite the soundproofing inside the truck, Mr. Bounders' little rodeo imitation had banged Candy's head against the steering wheel several times while his feet mashed the pedals in triumphant elation. Drivers passing by heard the horn go off sporadically, and saw the brake lights flashing. It looked as if someone had set off a car alarm, but nobody bothered to stop and check. One patrolman, however, was strolling around the park and noticed the commotion.He cautiously approached the tinted windows and turned on his flashlight, but saw nothing in the glare of its reflection. Probably just another damned park squirrel running across the roof.
Mr. Bounders was terrified by the bright light, and he had hidden himself by pulling his suit jacket over his head. He didn't dare peek up until he heard the last footstep fade away. When he got up the nerve to look around, Candy had already left the truck, leaving only the white notecard and an empty tube of lipstick on her seat. | 6 |
7,297 | The Reality of Virtual Possession | "Well then," Dr. Ronald Ketchum said to the beautiful woman seated across from him. "That about covers it all for my purposes."
Diane Alverson smiled broadly at the tall, slender research physician. In her public persona, she was known as Lady Mystique, a top-level LPC, or Licensed Personal Companion, who was board-certified for any gender interaction by the state Board of Health and Public Welfare. "I think you have finally gotten the nuances down completely, Ron. Quite amazing, actually. I am only glad that your design is much too expensive to be put into mass production. Folks like me would be out of a job," her mobile features curled into a classically winsome pout.
"No need to worry about that, Diane. It is just basic research right now. Maybe we can use parts of these designs to help people with specific problems, but the computer processing components are simply too far beyond the means of the average wage earner for the technology to be generally profitable. Likely to stay that way for some time, too," Ron answered as he stood and offered his hand to the tall blonde courtesan.
She shuddered delicately. "Well, that relieves my mind," she said dramatically before her face turned mischievous. "Today was very nice," her husky voice stretched the word 'very' out, rolling the 'r' in a catlike purr. "Very nice indeed. You just call me the next time you want to run more tests like the ones today, darling. Don't noise this about, but I'll even give you a special rate for my time. It just feels too good to be considered work."
At the door, Diane kissed Ron on the cheek and offered her own in return. "Thank you, Diane. You have been a great help."
Ron returned to his desk and reviewed the notes from the debriefing interview with Diane as well as the medical computer logs from the testing. It seemed that he had, in fact, succeeded - at least from the feminine perspective. All the LPCs now agreed that his system was at last effective. Unfortunately, another ramification of his decision to use only the best women available in his test program had been that there was very little money left in the budget to pay male professionals of any rank for their insights and comments. Well, he thought, he'd tested the device himself, and it had worked for him. Which was all that was really required for what he had planned since the moment he had first conceived the project.
Quietly, he sat back and reconsidered all the data, all the results and all the potential ramifications of what he planned to do. No, this device had not been designed for sale to the general population. Ronald had a very different, very personal motivation for developing this technology.
Tonight, he told himself grimly. Tonight he'd find out if he had been successful in achieving his true, but undocumented goals.
~-------------~
Ronald stood outside the room that housed his Virtual Environment Immersion Device. With the exception of a pair of running shorts, he was nude. Moving to the table beside his control console, he picked up what appeared to be a mass of spaghetti wire with small, circular plastic disks.
Carefully, he unwound the clump of wires and positioned the disks so that the small metallic contacts on the one side of each were facing inward. The whole thing fit over his head like a surreal hat. Standing in front of the mirror he'd installed for this very purpose, Ronald began affixing the small electrodes to specific spots about his head and down the back of his neck near the juncture of his skull and his spine. The wire web tightened to hold the disks in place.
The disks were, in point of actual fact, the part of Ronald's brainchild that were unlikely to ever become inexpensive enough for it to become generally profitable. Each of the supersensitive disks included a nanocomputer chip that, by means of quantum chaotic designs, exceeded the computing power of late twentieth-century supercomputers by several orders of magnitude. The wire mesh provided nerve-like connections between the super computer chips, further increasing the actual computing power by several times more.
Ronald stepped back to the control console and powered up the networks and ran a final set of diagnostic pre-checks. Everything checked out.
"Are you ready, Love?" he called to the other side of the chamber.
"Yes, Ronald. As ready as I will ever be," was the soft, feminine reply. Ronald could hear the fearful hope tinged with nervous anxiety in her voice.
"And you remember how the control functions work?"
The answer to his question was a soft chuckle. "How could I dare to forget? You've been beating that to death now for weeks. I think I could operate these things in my sleep."
"Okay, then," he answered, trying to sound confident and assured. "Let's do it."
Quickly, before he could think again of what might go wrong, Dr. Ronald Ketchum, MIT PhD in cybernetics and Harvard Medical School-trained neurology specialist, strode through the door of his immersion chamber.
The inside of the chamber was a featureless cube that, with the exception of the one door into the chamber, was pure unrelieved silvery white - floor, walls and ceiling. Light seemed to issue from every wall, from every corner without any apparent source in the chamber. With measured tread, Ronald moved into the very center of the chamber and then just stood for a few moments, gathering his courage.
It had to work. Failure was simply unthinkable. It *had* to work.
Closing his eyes, he took one last deep breath, and was barely able to whisper. "Computer, execute program DarkLove."
"Running," was the softly inflected, androgynous voice of the "Vicky", the bastardized name derived from the acronym of "Voice Command User Interface", or VCUI.
Suddenly, the eerie room lighting was gone, and the chamber was plunged into a stygian darkness. The effect reminded Ronald of the movie theaters of his youth, where the house lights would go out just before the projector was turned on to light up the silvered screen.
The first noteworthy effect of program DarkLove was the appearance of burning torches affixed to each visible wall. Their fiery light flared to illuminate parts of the room, and to shadow others. With the return of light, Ronald was able, for the very first time, to actually see the world he had created - first in his fantasies, then in a computer and finally here in this room. The formerly smooth, featureless walls were gone, replaced by walls made of rough, uneven stone that looked like they had been hewn out of solid rock.
As his vision continued to adjust to the flickering red light, he began to make out other constructs that now occupied the seemingly much larger space. There were chain shackles hanging from steel rods hammered into the stone walls and into the ceiling overhead. A brazier filled with glowing red coals occupied one corner of the dungeon, an old-fashioned standing pillory rested against one wall, and what appeared to be a medieval torture rack stood against a third wall - a now blank wall where the door through which he had entered had seemingly disappeared.
While his rational mind knew that everything he now saw was all hologram and illusion, it still *seemed* real. Much of that reality was the result of the computer disk web on his head.The electrodes sensed and then modulated the electrical signals flowing in his brain so that he saw, felt, tasted, smelled, and heard what program DarkLove *told* him to sense. He could feel the dry heat emanating from the brazier, could smell the burning wood, and could feel the chill to his bare feet from the cold, damp rock floor of the dungeon.
"Hello, slave." The voice that spoke was sultry, female, and amused. Ronald slowly turned to face the owner of that voice.
The woman was tall, standing several inches taller than his own six feet. Her figure was slender yet womanly, and she was dressed to show it off. She wore a white blouse that left her shoulders bare while billowing sleeves adorned her arms. Her waist nipped in to where a wide black leather belt formed a demarcation between her modest but shapely breasts and her flaring womanly hips. Black trousers hugged her long legs only to disappear into the cowled tops of a pair of high-heeled knee-boots.
There was just the faintest hint of a smile on her face as she purposefully closed the distance between them. With great solemnity, she took him in her arms and kissed him thoroughly. Deep emotion racked her, and Ronald could feel her trembling as she hugged him with all of her considerable strength. "God, I have missed this," she murmured against his mouth. Desire flared between them, and Ronald's arms started to come up to return her embrace, only to have her catch his wrists in her hands. "Not so fast, my slave. This is *still* my game, and we will *still* play it out by my rules," she said with a teasing lilt in her voice.
"And I can see that you have already forgotten one of those rules, you naughty boy," she said, looking down at his waist. "How are you supposed to be attired when ordered to present yourself to me, slave?"
An embarrassed flush fired Ronald's face, and he hastily shucked out of the running shorts. "I am to be nude, Mistress Ellen, so that any part of my body is available to you and your pleasures."
She nodded. "Too bad you did not remember until prompted, pet. That is a demerit already, and we haven't even started yet." She paused, looking around her slowly to take in the facilities of the dungeon, before speaking loudly. "Computer, execute program safeword."
"Running. The slave will state his safeword aloud for voice print identification."
Ronald swallowed to clear the lump in his throat, and failed. "My safe..." his voice broke, and he coughed, before all but yelling "My safeword is steadfast."
"Acknowledged and voice print logged," responded the main computer. "The next time either participant speaks aloud the word 'steadfast', Program DarkLove will be terminated by this facility. Continuing program DarkLove."
"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's see what we can do in your little play land, my love." Her eyes rose upward to where a set of shackles dangled down from the rock ceiling. Thought became deed, and Ronald quickly found his arms pulled tautly above his head.
Again, he knew that the chains were not really there, but the neural network in his helmet inhibited signals from his brain that would allow his arms to lower or to move beyond the limitations of the virtual bindings. Real chains could not have bound him any more effectively than the commands that restrained his brain and nervous system. Such was the power and the influence of the Virtual Environment Immersion Device.
Mistress Ellen slowly circled her bound slave, her hands touching him and exploring him again and again - a feathery graze across his taut stomach, a teasing, almost painful pinch of his nipples, a kiss on the neck just behind the shell of his ear, a fondling squeeze of both asscheeks. "You are a magnificent animal, darling slave," she whispered into his ear as she continued to squeeze his butt. "I am going to enjoy this so much."
"I will do my very best to give you pleasure, Mistress Ellen," he whispered back.
"I know you will, dear," her voice was warm with the special emotion they were sharing. "You always have. Now, let's begin, shall we? First, a little warmup, my love." The hands on his buns slipped away.
*SMACK* Stinging fire lit his right asscheek, which was immediately followed by a matching burn in the left. After the first shocking swat, Ronald let himself ease into the rhythm of the spanking. Mistress Ellen had always been an artist at this type of play. The blows were not too fast nor too slow; their intensity neither too hard nor too soft. Gradually, she struck a spark inside him, which she carefully fanned into a warming fire.
"My hand stings, darling," she complained. "Where's my flogger?" she demanded. Immediately, the requested tool appeared in her hand. "How very thoughtful," she said as the long strands of soft deer hide cut across both cheeks of his bottom.
The fire she'd lit mere moments before flared hotter, and Ronald found himself becoming aroused and erect even as tears streamed down his cheeks. Mistress saw it, too, for she stepped around him and gripped the hard length of him in her free hand. "Very nice, slave," she said as she leaned over and kissed him again. "I am going to enjoy that...later. However, I think it is just a little too early for such presumption on your part, and you are already facing at least one demerit's worth of correction. Your training has slipped," she tsked at him in mocking sympathy. "Well, let's see if I can take your mind off that unsightly swelling, dear."
The "devil-take-the-hindmost" glint in her eyes should have warned him, but as she had just pointed out, he was out of training - on many levels.
A whistling hiss was all the warning he received before an icy-cold line of fire seared across his buttocks. His agonized scream died a-borning in his chest when his breath was stolen by the next slash that sliced him right in the very tender crease between buttock and thigh.
Mistress Ellen strutted back into his field of vision. A look of triumphant pleasure lighting her lovely face, and a rattan school cane swinging loosely from a leather wrist strap held in her strong right hand. "Aw, look," she said in feigned dismay as she lifted his now limp cock with the tip of the four-foot-long implement, "It wilted, poor thing."
With only the merest flick of her wrist, she sent the tip end of the cane snapping across the twin balls hanging low in his scrotum. Ronald's eyes bulged, and his scream of surprised pain resounded off the dark walls of the dungeon, as he did a graceless jig, trying vainly to lift his legs into a protective fetal position.
Mistress Ellen simply stood there, slapping the cane against her leather boot, savoring his suffering, savoring his endurance. When he'd calmed, she stepped up to him, her nose scant millimeters from his. "Well, my darling slave. That was quite a display on your part. I thoroughly enjoyed it. So much, that I want to do it again. I am going to give you four cuts of the cane on your lovely ass, and then, I am going to give you another tap on your family jewels." She took his chin in her free hand and ravaged his mouth with another needy, hungry kiss, letting him feel her excitement. "Only you can stop me, little man. If you don't safeword, I will make the next few minutes terrible for you, and I will *love* every moment of it. So, what are you going to do, lover?"
Ronald wished he had not done his job of programming neural feedback quite so well. Over the intervening years, he had forgotten that his beloved Mistress was something of a sadist - a loving one, but a sadist nonetheless. His ass felt like she had sliced him clear to the bone, and his balls felt like they were growing larger and more painful with each breath. That no real harm was being done to him was immaterial - the pain induced by computer stimulation of his nervous system was real and inescapable - unless he safeworded.
She had not moved as he fought his private battle with the hurt and the anticipation of worse yet to come. Her chin came up in a royal challenge, daring him to continue and inviting him to quit.
It would have been so easy to yell out his safeword...and so dishonest. Because he knew he could handle it, if he was doing it for her. Wasn't this why he had built this device? Wasn't this why he had offered himself up to her? For her pleasure, for her fulfillment? He answered himself with a nod before lifting his head to meet her challenging gaze. "I...will...endure, Mistress," he rasped out.
Her eyes warmed, and she kissed him again, more softly and lovingly this time, before offering the cane to his lips. "Then kiss the instrument of your trial, slave, and then ask me for the first cut."
Ronald kissed her cane, and then watched her move behind him once more. He felt the cane laid across his quivering buttocks. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath. "Mistress, may it give you pleasure - may I have the first cut, please?"
And she took him into hell. She held the cane against him after landing each stroke, letting the hurt sink deep into him, giving him time to recover his wits sufficiently to appreciate the burning pain and to anticipate fully her next strike. By the time she finished the fourth cut, he was bellowing his anguish, his eyes closed tightly against the hurt and so he missed her stepping quickly around in front of him.
He did not miss the final "love-tap" to his balls.
Only sheer force of will kept him conscious as the computer-stimulated pain drove him nearly mad. But he held on, and he endured for her.
"Lower the ceiling chains," she ordered in a loud voice.
In response to her command, Ronald felt his arms go slack in their bonds, and he fought not to crumple to his knees. Ellen pressed down on his shoulders until he understood and knelt before her. "Caning you has gotten me incredibly hot, darling."she explained as her shaking hands fumbled at the closing of her pants. "Dammit," she growled in frustration, "I wish these pants were off." In an instant, her pants simply disappeared, and Ronald found himself on eye level with her trimly furred Venus mound. "My, but that is handy," she purred as her hands went to the back of his head to pull him to her. "Pleasure me, slave," she growled. "Do it well, and we might just forget your demerit. Otherwise, you will pay for that demerit with another session with the cane."
The threat was not necessary, for Ronald had been dreaming of this moment since he had first known the Virtual Reality Immersion Device was viable. Hot woman enveloped Ron's face as her hands threaded into his sweaty hair and pulled him harder into her sex. Everything the artificial intelligence system had learned from the LPCs fed into the sensations he was savoring at that special moment. The soft, musky scent of her, the sweat-salty, juicy-sweet taste of her, the ticklish scratchiness of her pussy hair on his nose and cheeks, and the soft moans and sounds of her arousal and her pleasure.
He felt her begin to grind herself harder and faster into his face and then felt her vaginal muscles begin to spasm beneath his questing tongue. Quickly, he pulled back against her fingers pulling his hair and slid his mouth up to her clitoris. Taking the hard, erect bud and gripping it between his lips, Ronald began to rapidly brush the hard, pointed tip of his tongue back and forth across her. A very satisfying squeal told him his strategy was effective.
Suddenly, everything stopped for one, two, three heartbeats, and then Ellen shattered, exploding into a climax that both exhilarated and humbled him. Determinedly, Ronald rode with her gyrations, seeking to prolong her pleasure as long as possible.
She finally stopped, her body shuddering, her breaths coming in short, panting gulps, her eyes wide with shock and arousal. "Chains off," she ordered. Ronald felt the chains on his wrists disappear moments before Ellen pushed him onto his hands and knees. "That was very well done, darling, and to show my appreciation, I am going to forgive that demerit and do something that you will give you pleasure."
She walked around in front of him so that he could see her. In one hand, she held a harness from which hung a long, very thin dildo, of the type used for anal penetration, and in the other dangled a thin leather bracelet. Ellen slipped back behind him and then laid down on his back. He could feel the hard points of her nipples digging into his back as her hands slipped around him to find and tease his renewed erection.
"Excited, are we?" she purred into his ear as she continued to stroke his heated length. "Well, I want you to stay that way and not waste this lovely hard-on. As I said, I have plans for that later on, so we'll just make sure you don't have any unfortunate accidents that would deprive me of those pleasures."
Ronald felt rather than saw the strip of leather surround his cock and balls at the root and then become very, very tight. "That should keep all that lovely man juice where it belongs until I decide otherwise," she said with smug satisfaction.
Her weight lifted off him, and then he heard the rustle and snap of latex gloves being pulled on. A cool, slick finger slipped between the cheeks of his still burning ass and probed for his anal pucker. She found it on the first try and was soon sliding that finger in and out of his ass. A second finger slipped in when he wasn't expecting it, which in turn was shortly followed by a third as his body first relaxed, then accepted and finally began moving with her slow, even strokes.
When the fingers left him, he knew what was coming next. Strong hands gripped his hips, and something hard poked at him between his buttocks, missing the still open hole. "Reach back and guide me into you, slave," Ellen hissed, her arousal peaking yet again.
He had always been shamed at the pleasure he felt when she unmanned him by fucking his ass. Now, the humiliation was particularly exquisite as he willingly participated in his own violation. Once he'd seated it at the aperture of his ass, the harnessed dildo easily slipped past the weakened ring of muscle under her weight. He felt the toy slide in deep, filling him, and then felt it slide out, leaving him feeling empty and oddly bereft. Ellen began fucking him with long, smooth strokes, and soon had him thrusting back to meet her. Their movements stimulated his prostate, and soon he felt the granddaddy of all orgasms building in his guts.
It never happened.
Ronald groaned as his body tried to climax, and was prevented from doing so by the unyielding ring of leather about his genitals. Ellen felt his ass spasm, felt him gripping at her phallus. Smiling to herself, she let his moment of crisis pass as she continued her gentle rape of his ass. Once she he had calmed, she sheathed her toy in him fully, tickling his tenderized cheeks with stray pussy hairs that were not covered by the harness.
"Well, darling, if you are trying to climax on me, you must be ready for the next phase. Computer!" her soft, teasing tones changed to sharp command as she addressed the main computer. "Change dildo. New style - Lifelike. New length - 8 inches. Maximum diameter - one and one half inches. Include testicles filled with body temperature lubricant. Execute."
"Running." Ronald's eyes bulged as the hard lump in his ass instantaneously lengthened, curved and thickened. The new width alone was at least three times the old one.
Ronald whimpered in discomfort as his body worked to accommodate the vastly larger cock. "Too much for you, tough guy?" she asked, her words dripping with mock concern.
He wanted to lie to her, to tell her that it was too much, and to beg her to return to the smaller, more manageable toy, but he couldn't do that. "Almost, Mistress," he choked out between the deep breaths he was taking to try to relax his tortured bottom. "But I can handle it." He hoped he could, anyway.
"Reach back and grip my balls, sweetheart," Ellen ordered softly. It was difficult and awkward for him, having to reach so far back between his legs with one hand while maintaining his position with the other, but he finally managed it. "Now, listen carefully, slave. I am now going to fuck you really hard until *I* orgasm. I'm going to be far too self-involved to worry about your poor little ass, so your job is to squeeze my balls whenever you feel you need a little more lubrication. I wouldn't let my grip slip, dear slave. The ass you save will most definitely be your own."
With only that warning, she pulled back from him sharply, nearly pulling the two kidney-shaped nodules free of his grasp. Somehow, he managed to hold on and then firmed his grip into a squeeze as she stroked back in. He almost sighed in relief as the soothing lubrication coated his rectum. The pace rapidly increased as did the power of Ellen's strokes. Ronald's eyes nearly crossed as his body attempted yet another orgasm only to be frustrated once again by the tight leather ring.
"Oh, god, it is so good," Ellen groaned. "So very, very good. Feed me, darling. Be strong for me."
Then she went mad.
Ronald's grip on her balls failed as she began spasmodically jerking into and out of him, her strokes no longer smooth, her hands no longer firm and steady on his sweat-slick flanks. Grimly, he gave up trying to recapture those wildly dancing balls, and instead braced himself with both hands, trying to drive back and meet her furious strokes - trying to push her ever higher.
When she finished her climax, she collapsed against his back. She did not move for a very long time, causing Ronald to worry she might have gone to sleep. Then, she began to move, and once again, her hands crept around his torso, and he felt her buckle something about his waist. When she stood up, he realized that the rubber phallus was harnessed deep inside his body.
Before he could quite assimilate what that meant, Mistress Ellen's hands were on him, urging him over onto his back. He looked at her in stunned silence. Her hair was wild, her eyes were wide and just a little bit crazed, and her nose was flaring in her passion.
And then she was stepping over him, straddling him between her legs. "I have got to have you - NOW!" the last word coming out as an angry scream, as she gripped his rampant cock in one hand and guided it into her as she mounted his prone body.
Ronald whimpered at the sheer joy of having her body engulfing him, possessing him. Her nails ravaged him, digging sharply into his nipples as she began a slow, arching ride. Every stroke she took his full length into the hot core of her woman's body and ground her pelvis into him on each out stroke. Every few strokes she would slide down to kiss his mouth, or to nip playfully at the throbbing pulse in his neck.
Helpless to resist her, Ron fought a losing battle to maintain his control, to make the pleasure of this long anticipated mating union continue indefinitely.
But it had been too long.
A particularly fast down stroke lit his fuse, and he began to arch into her thrusts, to drive himself deeper and deeper into her. The force of his desperate thrusts as his body again attempted to orgasm triggered her own climax. With her last rational thought, Ellen reached down and released the catch-lock of constraining ring about his cock. Shouting his triumph to the heavens, Ronald pumped his very soul into her womb.
They lay there on the cold stone in the flickering light of the torches for a long time, cuddling and whispering promises to one another. Finally, Ellen sat up. She leaned down and gave him a loving kiss. "Thank you, my darling. I think that is enough for the first attempt.It has been the most wonderful gift anyone has ever given me, but likewise, it has also been a very long time. I am not used to such intense activity and I am exhausted.
"We can do it again whenever you want, my love," he promised fervently.
She smiled very tenderly down at him and let her hand gently stroke the sweat-dampened lock of hair out of his eyes. "I know, darling, and we will again very soon," she whispered against his mouth before breaking the kiss and saying in a much louder voice, "Computer. Program DarkLove complete. Terminate Program DarkLove."
"Working," was the response.
Once again, the absolute darkness descended on the room, this time to be replaced by the light that had pervaded the room when he had first entered. Still lying on his back, Ronald forced himself to look around. The dungeon had vanished, no longer anything but the myriad bits of data floating about on the main computer's storage disks.
He was alone in the room, but that was only to be expected. Slowly, Ron stood up and felt the cooling puddle of semen that had splattered onto his stomach begin to trickle down and then drip to the floor. The almost overwhelming fullness in his ass was gone; the sensations of having been thoroughly anally ravished, and of having been thoroughly thrashed and caned were only a memory. With the exception of the spilled semen and his still rapidly beating heart, there was no physical evidence of what he had just shared with Mistress Ellen.
Feeling fatigued himself, Ron turned to the door that had once again appeared and walked out of the chamber.
Outside, he moved over to where his wife Ellen rested upon the special couch that provided the cyber-neural connection to the main system computer. A soft sound caught his ear, and he realized it was Ellen. She was crying softly. Frightened that something had gone wrong, that she had somehow been hurt by her direct mental connection with the powerful computer, he rushed over and knelt down beside her.
"Love, are you hurt? What is wrong?" he asked frantically, but she was too choked up to answer him.
Finally, she regained control enough to speak, although the tears still fell. "Oh, Ronald, that was so beautiful. I never thought I would feel those things again, never feel the heat of you as I flogged you, or the love of your mouth on me, or the depth of your caring as you filled me with your cock. And I did feel those things," she sobbed harder. "You made me whole again, and I love you so."
Ronald began to gently remove the computer web helmet from her head, all the while stroking her long silky tresses. "I am glad, my love," he responded. It *had* worked. And using Diane's basic body and physio-neurological attributes as the basis for his beloved's virtual reality avatar had worked better than he'd even dared hope it would. It had been the striking similarity between the two women that had prompted Ronald to use the lovely LPC as his primary test subject and, more importantly, as the secret model for the Mistress Ellen avatar, and it *had* worked.
Sitting down beside her on the couch, Ronald continued to stroke her head until the tears ran their course. "Better now, my love?" he asked softly as he leaned down to kiss her gently.
"Better than I have been in five long years, darling," she said, a yawn interrupting her. "Except I am so tired now."
"Ready for bed?" he asked. At her affirmative response, Ronald kissed her again and then, with great care, lifted her frail body off the couch. Holding her close and letting her head rest on his shoulder, he carried her over and settled her into her chair. Still flush with success and basking in his wife's love, he then stood and took the handles of her wheelchair in his hands - the wheelchair that had been, until now, the only freedom her paralyzed body had known since the accident five years before that had left her without movement or feeling below the neck.
"It was so wonderful, Ronald, to move and feel again, even if it was all in my head. It is too bad it is only in that one little room."
"Soon, my love, I will have our house configured so that you can move about the whole house, at least via your avatar. We can even have guests over. And we can make the chamber into whatever place you want to visit."
"I can't believe you did this... it's incredible."
"I had a great incentive, my love. No one loves like you. Could I do less?" He already had the plans necessary to equip an entire house with his technology, a place where she could live in a true-to-life virtual reality beyond the limited confines of her unresponsive body and her wheelchair.
Why stop there?, he asked himself sternly. Hell, if he could make her brain think she was moving, if he could make her brain "feel" again with his little chips and wires, then he could also find a way to extend that to her real body. His computer networks could do for his wife what her severed spinal cord could no longer do for her. It was the next obvious step in the program, expensive to be sure, but in the end, well worth whatever the cost.
His wife *would* walk, feel and make love again, and his Mistress *would* bind, tease and whip again - and in the un-virtual reality of the so-called real world. He had just proven that he had the technology. Now, it was only a matter of time and work and love for him to finish the job properly - and he definitely had those attributes in hand.
"I love you with all my mind, heart and soul, darling husband and slave," Ellen said softly, rolling her head and eyes backward, trying to look him in the eyes.
"As I love you, beloved wife and Mistress," Ronald responded reverently, "As I love you."
"Ronald?" she asked, and he thought he heard just a touch of mischief in her voice.
"Yes, Ellen?"
"Can you make a corset in the computer? So that for all intents and purposes, it would look and feel like the real thing?"
Ronald's heart skipped a beat at that question. Mistress Ellen wearing a corset had always been one of his unfulfilled fantasies because the Mistress always maintained that the domme was not the one who should be uncomfortable during a scene. "Why yes, Mistress. It would be a simple matter to scan a corset design into the computer and then program the neural net to provide the sensory input for the wearer."
"Excellent, my slave," she said with evident satisfaction. "Do it before our next scene. If you are going to give me an entire house to roam, I will need a maid to help me keep it clean and tidy." She grinned to herself. Let him stew on that for a moment, she thought happily.
"A... a maid, Mistress?" Ron asked, not certain he had heard her correctly.
"Of course, darling. You will be just *perfect* for the role. Also, I expect you to start practicing your French immediately, ronnie. I will help you, of course, by monitoring and assessing your progress, and by providing you with rewards, incentives and disciplines as I think appropriate to your effort and achievement."
"Thank you, Mistress," he said, just a little shakily and not entirely convincingly.
Gotcha, she thought. Time to remember who surrenders and who accepts power in this relationship, darling. "I think we will call you Veronique." She let the name slip out slowly, as if tasting it and finding it just right. "Oh, and do make the corset very tight, darling. I do insist that my personal French Maid be a *very* sexy little slut."
Why am I surprised?, Ronald thought. She *is* still the Mistress. That chair only held her body; it never chained her mind. Probably just gave her more time to think, and now, I have restored to her the power to act on those thoughts.
He just shook his head, letting the images of him stumbling about in high heels, stockings, a corset, a wig and a feather duster tumble across his mind. She was wonderful, and he cherished both Ellen the wife and Ellen the Mistress.
"Oui, Maitresse," Ronald replied using the extent of his currently very limited French vocabulary before adding, "Very Oui." | 5 |
7,305 | The Ballad Of Wrangler Jane | "Honestly, Wilton Parmenter, sometimes I don't know why I put up with you," the pretty blonde woman thundered as she stormed out of the Captain's quarters. With a quick leap, she threw her leg over the chestnut mare tied outside and hopped up and onto it. A strong pull against the reins unhitched her.
"But Jane..." stammered the young man in cavalry blue who followed her out the door a few seconds later, only to be cut off as he tripped over a loose floorboard on the porch. Falling forward, he somersaulted over the hitching post and into the dirt street, knocking himself unconscious.
"Captain!" cried out Morgan O'Rourke, the troop's senior NCO, as he ran across the compound, followed close behind by Corporal Agarn.
At the sound of the Sergeant's voice, the buckskin-clad woman turned the horse she had just mounted and looked down on the sprawled officer.
"Is he all right?" she asked the Sergeant as he bent down and examined his commanding officer.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head, Wrangler," the Irishman said. "He just had the wind knocked out of him. A little cold water will bring him right around."
"Do me a favor O'Rourke," she said as she jerked the reins and aimed her horse at the main gate. "Give me a few seconds to get out of here before you do."
With that, she spurred her horse and galloped the length of the fort. She didn't even look back before she disappeared out the main gate.
"She was sure fired up about something," O'Rourke noted.
"Guess we'd better wake the Captain up," Agarn said.
O'Rourke pointed to the nearby horse trough, and the Corporal responded by filling his light-colored hat up with water from it.
"You know, if we put the trough back over there," he said, pointing to the empty space in front of the hitching post with the water-filled hat, "he'd at least have something to break his fall. At least it always used to."
"Good idea, Agarn," the taller man replied. "Have Vanderbilt and Hoffenmeuller move it right after lunch."
"Sure thing, Sarge," he answered as he poured the water onto the face of the unconscious Captain.
"Blluu...bluuu...Jane...I..." Wilton Parmenter gasped as the icy coldness snapped him awake.
"Easy, sir," O'Rourke said as he and Agarn helped the now soaked Captain to his feet.
"Where's Jane?" he asked when he noticed that her horse was gone.
"She shot out of here madder than a bear in a hornet's nest," Agarn said as he slapped his now wet headpiece against his trousers. "That must've been some dilly of an argument the two of you had."
"Agarn!" the Sergeant snapped in reproach. The Corporal quickly shut up. It wasn't often that Morgan O'Rourke lost his temper, but when he did, the last thing Randolph Agarn ever wanted was to be on the receiving end of it.
"To be honest, she was somewhat angry, Captain," O'Rourke said in a milder tone. "But she did make sure that you were okay before she took off."
"It really didn't start out as an argument," Captain Parmenter said. "We were just chatting, and then out of the blue, Jane suggested how much nicer it would be if she just moved in here with me."
Both NCOs just listened quietly. If the Captain felt like sharing his problems, then they'd be more than willing to listen. The same would be true if he just wanted to be left alone.
"I quickly explained that it was impossible. I mean, we've only known each other a little over a year now. It'll be at least another year before we even get engaged. What would people think if they knew we were living together? What would my mother say? They all think we were...well...you know."
O'Rourke was genuinely surprised at the Captain's admission. He wondered if he was misinterpreting it. Since the Captain had brought it up, it seemed only fair to inquire.
"I take it then that you and Wrangler have never...what I mean is that the two of you..." the broad-shouldered Irishman asked.
"Certainly not," Parmenter said quickly. "We'd have to be married to do that."
O'Rourke took a deep breath and could see the same thought reflected in Agarn's eyes. Wilton Parmenter was naive about a lot of things. He had become the commanding officer of F Troop and Fort Courage based on his turning a retreat into a successful cavalry charge in the closing days of the Civil War.
O'Rourke himself had risen to the temporary rank of Captain during the war, only to drop back to Sergeant following the peace. He had preferred it that way. Parmenter, on the other hand, was the youngest son of one of the premier Army families. His medal had been big news, and with it came the promotion and F Troop. Yet, from what he had heard from someone who had actually been there, that order to charge had actually been a sneeze.
Still, even knowing his background, O'Rourke found this new piece of information unbelievable. Over two thousand miles from his Philadelphia home, the Captain was still trying to live by the rules of polite society. Out here in the badlands, there were few white women available. Far fewer that looked as desirable as Wrangler Jane. There wasn't another man in five hundred miles, O'Rourke included, who wouldn't run to her bed if she had offered. Yet she had offered far more than that to the Captain, and he had turned her down. Incredible.
"If you like, Captain, we could have Dobbs and Duffy ride out after her," the Sergeant said, changing the subject. "She was headed away from town, out towards the Hakowie camp. It'll be dark in a few hours."
"No, better let her get it all out of her system," the Captain said as he turned and headed back into his office. "She'll be all right. After all, she rides and shoots better than any man in the troop."
With that, he closed the door to his quarters behind him.
Morgan O'Rourke stood there for a minute, staring at the hard wood door. He didn't say a word until Agarn reminded him that they had to get the latest shipment of O'Rourke Enterprises souvenirs off to Dodge City.
"Incredible," O'Rourke softly repeated to himself before talking off after Agarn towards the NCO club.The Thrifts, of course, were welcome in the finest homes of New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. That girl had died in the bed of a man whose name she couldn't even remember. In her place had been born Wrangler Jane.
If she had been born a man instead of a woman, then her life would've been much different. Then her qualities would have been appreciated. She sometimes wished that she had been born such. She would've been much better off. Of course, then Wilton would've had to have been born a woman instead as well. But that might've suited him too. He would make a better woman than man.
A sudden sound from behind the long row of bushes caused her to crouch down and pull out her six-shooter. The quick, fluid motion of which was the envy of every man she knew. Tying Sparkle's reins to the shrub, she carefully moved to higher ground.
Stepping slowly, she silently climbed an outcrop of boulders, giving her a view of the riverbank below. Looking down, she saw the source of the noise.
Standing naked in the shallow edge of the water was a young Indian maiden. Her long black hair stretched down to the cheeks of her ass. She was very pretty by both white and Indian standards. Small but full breasts stood firm in the late afternoon sun. Her entire body was a sun-kissed brown, showing that she spent a great deal of time like she was now. Between her legs was a small batch of black hair. Jane wondered if the smallness of the area was natural or if the maiden trimmed it as Jane did her own. She couldn't have been, Jane guessed, more than 16 or 17.
Wanting to get a better look, Jane carefully shimmied down the rocks. The girl's back was now to her, so she took a chance and bolted to the edge of the bushes. Stepping on a dry twig, Jane was certain that she had given herself away. But the girl never turned.
Now secure in her new vantage point, the 25-year-old sat quietly and watched. And as she watched, old familiar, but long-buried feelings, once more surfaced.
The soft-skinned girl ran her wet hands up and down the length of her body. She pressed the roundness of her breasts, rubbing the small nipples until they were hard.
Under her buckskin blouse, Wrangler felt her own nipples stiffen. That was the unspoken reason she had felt at home. Aside from being more man than many men she had met, she also sometimes felt a man's attraction for a woman. It was years before she learned to accept those feelings. Even longer before she had acted on them. One night in Dodge City, she had paid a young prostitute to sleep with her. It had been one of the most exciting times of her life. But she had been determined not to become a frequenter of whores. She remembered all too well the look of disgust the harlot had given her when she left her room the next morning. Still, the unnaturalness of the act hadn't prevented her from taking the money.
Instead, she had buried the urges. It had been easy enough. After all, most of the women she met out here in the West were either whores or settlers' wives. Neither of which held much attraction for her. Of course, there was always the occasional daughter that would catch her fancy, but those opportunities usually never presented themselves. They wanted husbands, the sooner the better. Most nights she would satisfy herself with their images in her mind.
Then she had found Wilton Parmenter. A man feminine enough to not be bothered by her masculinity. If only he wasn't so tied up in the propriety of things.
The small hands of the Indian girl were now situated between her legs. Wrangler knew that if she could get closer, she would be able to see that the girl had her fingers up inside herself. The look on her face was proof of that. The wetness there must be the equal of Wrangler's own.
Finally, not able to keep still any longer, Wrangler slid her own hand down into her trousers. A soft moan escaped her lips as she gently stroked her moistness. It felt so good. Memories of that girl in Dodge filled her mind's eye. Those and the thought of how much more wonderful it might be to actually touch the warm softness of the girl before her.
Standing up, she took a few steps out into the open. The Indian maid was again turned away from her and didn't see her at first. Then out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the buckskin-clad figure.
Yelling out something in a language Wrangler didn't understand, the Indian dove down towards a loose squaw's dress left on a nearby rock. Rather than trying to cover herself, she emerged from the pile with a long knife in her hand and assumed a combative stance.
Wrangler reacted automatically to the appearance of the knife and had her gun in hand without even thinking about it. There they stood, less than a dozen feet apart, with weapons drawn.
"This is silly," Wrangler thought as she looked down at the gun and then at the knife in the maiden's hand. "And it could turn into something dangerous very fast."
With that, she reholstered her weapon and held both her hands up and palms outward. She shook her head and let her hat fall free, revealing her long, tied blonde tresses.
"You are a woman," the maiden said as she lowered the knife.
"My name is Wrangler Jane."
"The trading woman from the fort. I know of you," came the reply. "But I always thought you must be old and ugly to have such a name."
"Hardly," Jane said dryly.
"I am Singing Deer, daughter of Roaring Chicken of the Hakowie."
Jane thought for a moment and remembered meeting the old medicine man at some function or other at the fort.
"I've met your father," she said.
An awkward silence held for a few seconds until Singing Deer said, "I have never seen hair such as yours, the color of the sun. It is very beautiful."
"Thank you," Wrangler said.
With that, she reached up and pulled out the leather thong that held it in place and let her hair fall around her shoulders.
"That is much better," commented the maiden.
"I didn't mean to disturb your privacy," Jane said, trying to think of something to fill the void. "I didn't think that I was that close to the Hakowie Camp."
"The camp is still two hours' walk from here," Singing Deer said as she dropped the blade and stepped closer to Wrangler Jane. "I sometimes come to this place to be by myself and think."
"And to please yourself," Jane said without thinking as her gaze shifted from the small brown breasts to the dark wet patch below.
Singing Deer paused for a moment and then continued, "As the daughter of the medicine man, I am promised to whoever becomes the next Chief of the Hakowies. But as Crazy Cat will most certainly tell you, it will be many, many moons before Wild Eagle goes to the happy hunting ground. Until that time, it is written that no man may touch me."
"Can't be much fun," Jane said.
"It is not," the young girl said softly.
"Well, I can understand that," Jane said sympathetically. "But maybe I can help."
The tall young woman looked confused as Jane's smile grew brighter.
"I may not be touched by a man, not even a white man," she repeated, thinking that Jane was planning to take her into town.
"But I am not a man," Jane grinned, thankful for the first time in her life that she was able to say that.
Softly rubbing her hand against the moist mound between Singing Deer's long, tanned legs, Jane quickly replaced the look of confusion with one of delight.
Taking the quiet moans as encouragement, Jane removed her hand and reached up and undid the laces of her blouse. Singing Deer watched in fascination as it fell away, exposing the large, pale pink breasts beneath. Even more fascinating to her was the blonde bush that was revealed when Wrangler's pants joined her shirt on the ground.
Jane sighed as Singing Deer reached out and placed her hands against her melon-sized mounds. The nipples were rock hard, and the touch of her slender fingers sent shivers through Jane's body. The younger woman experimentally ran her fingers back and forth across them, delighting in the soft sounds emanating from the white woman's throat.
Wrangler looked into the girl's eyes, quickly losing herself in their depth. She hesitantly lowered her mouth to the Indian's. It was a light, tentative kiss at first. She knew the Hakowie, like most Indian tribes, had never had a kissing tradition. She was unsure how Singing Deer would react.
Feeling the soft pressure of her kiss returned, Jane pressed her tongue against the opening of Singing Deer's mouth. The younger girl opened her mouth instinctively, and quickly tongue met tongue.
While their tongues slid back and forth, Jane cupped Singing Deer's breasts. Then she bent down and replaced her hands with her mouth. The caress of her warm mouth sent a string of words running from the Hakowie that Jane didn't understand. The tone, however, was unmistakable. That and the slight pressure against Jane's head as she was again guided to the hard, dark brown nipples.
Wrangler nuzzled at each breast for a while longer, then began a journey downward. A light film of saliva marked the trail of her tongue as it moved down Singing Deer's stomach and across her belly button. Lower she went, nibbling her way to the girl's womanhood.
Reaching the now thoroughly saturated patch, Jane took a moment to relish the aroma. An aroma she hadn't savored for a long time. She kissed each thigh, again and again, before moving on to her prize.
It began as a flicker. Then a touch. Finally, a long, loving caress. She could feel Singing Deer's body react to each stroke as she ran her tongue across her clit over and over.
Singing Deer began to buckle and spasm as Jane increased the intensity of her tongue's attack. She slid her free hand down between her own legs and slid first one, then two, and finally three fingers within herself. She quickly matched the tempo of her fingers to that of her tongue.Sweat ran down the Indian's body as she shook with each new ecstatic jolt. She could feel the rising crest within her and knew that her first orgasm at the hands of another was near.
Wrangler darted her tongue in and out of Singing Deer's tunnel of love, causing the waves of pleasure cascading up and down the younger girl's body to double. The harder Jane moved her tongue, the faster the waves repeated.
Faster and faster the waves washed over Singing Deer, each bringing her closer to an explosion. Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to delay the fire within her so that she could enjoy each second.
With a yell, the Hakowie maiden climaxed as she had never done by her own hand. Her small body shook for endless seconds as she took in every aspect of her rapture.
Jane followed with her own orgasm seconds later as her fingers covered with her wetness. A much softer cry on her lips.
Both women collapsed to the ground, entangled in each other's arms. Silently they lay there, caressing and kissing each other's body.
Time passed slowly as the rays of the sun faded on the horizon. The silver moon replaced the golden sun in the sky and a chill appeared in the air.
Singing Deer built a fire and Jane produced a couple of blankets from her saddle roll. Together, they huddled naked beneath the blankets, keeping each other warm.
They spent the night talking and making love once more. This time Singing Deer brought the same pleasure to Jane that Jane had brought her.
By early morning when Jane dropped her newfound lover off within a five-minute walk to her home, they had already made plans to meet again in a week. In that time, Singing Deer planned to teach the other women of her village what she had learned.
Wrangler Jane, on the other hand, had made a promise to herself that one way or another, Wilton was going to give her what she was due, even if she had to tie him down first to do it. | 3 |
7,344 | Shields | "Shields down to 5 percent, commander," screamed the Weapons officer.
"Engine room, divert more power to the shields."
"I'm sorry, Commander. The inversion chamber has been damaged. I don't think Aaaaaaaaaaaargh...."
There was a crash, and the ship shook and tumbled through the sky like a leaf before the inertial stabilizer dampers kicked back online.
"Engine room, damage report? Where are you, Sneed?"
The voice sounded faint. "He's dead, sir. They're all dead. We're all going to die."
Danajane was terrified. What had she done to deserve this? She was a scientist, not a fighter - a very junior geological mapper, and this was her first tour of duty. This was supposed to be a simple surveying expedition, mapping out the geology of a promising-looking planet which, hopefully, could be used to provide much-needed colonization space for a burgeoning human population. Then came the signal for them to return to Station Theta. The peace talks with the Morgons had broken down, and rumor had it that their 6th battlefleet was in this quadrant.
So they had dropped their survey probes and hightailed it. They were only two light-years away from the station when, one by one, the entire Morgon battlefleet had materialized. In front of them, behind them, around them. They had fought the good fight, but were hopelessly outgunned by the strato-destroyers.
Suddenly, there was a huge crash and a rolling wave of flames as the doors disintegrated under the rays of the Morgon firethrowers. Danajane clasped her hands over her head and sank to the floor, screaming, as the battle raged around her.
"How many prisoners?"
"One?"
Harkass raised his left mandible. "Just one?"
"They fought hard, Sir, and there were no other females on board."
"Bring her to me," Harkass snapped.
She was paraded, shaking and terrified, in front of him. He looked down at her and then buzzed closer. She had a small, compact body, with a fresh, radiant beauty. A fresh peach at the peak of perfection. But to his eyes, she was puny and weak and would be hard-pressed to withstand the rigors of her forthcoming servitude.
"So, little one, what is your name?"
All she could hear was a series of grunts, whistles, and pops, none of which were very intelligible.
"I'm a scientist, not a fighter. Please don't hurt me."
"Get the translation phones, Skark. How these puny creatures ever hope to colonize space when they can't even perform simple translations is beyond me."
They placed the phones on her head. They were a bit awkward, as they had been designed for races with three ear cavities, but they sufficed.
"Who are you?" Karkass asked again.
"My name is Danajane, and I am a scientist from the survey vessel..."
"SILENCE. I am not interested in where you are from, just what you are. Are you a virgin?"
"What? Er, I, er, why do you want to know?"
Missilwhips are very effective. Designed for herding the stubborn, thick-skinned, and tempestuous missilcows, they proved devastating across the backside of a stubborn little human female. Danajane screamed piteously as the formic acid from the million little needles punctured her flesh. It was like being stung by a thousand jellyfish at once.
"I am getting angry. Now, are you a virgin?"
"Yes," she whimpered.
A collective sigh went up over the amorphous blob that formed the bridge crew of the Morgon destroyer.
"Strip her."
"No, please," screamed Danajane, fearing the worst, even though she knew that Morgons bred by osmosis. A single, controlled shot from the firethrower burned her clothes off, without so much as singeing a single hair on her body.
Harkass gazed at her nearly nude crotch. Most of the female captives had thickets of hair down there, but now he had one with just a small clump of fiery red tufts to match the blaze of her head. Fire red, it seemed appropriate somehow.
This one can be the new bridge shield. He was looking forward to thinking about her when he engaged the puny galactic fleet they had dispatched against him.
"Bridge forward one position," shouted Harkass.
A cloud of pink gas descended on her and bore her away.
The other females looked exhausted. They hung in their harnesses, covered in sweat and gasping for air.
Danajane was quickly maneuvered into position to match that of the other females in the long, dismal corridor. Her arms were strapped onto poles that stuck out from the clammy wall of the ship, and her backside was positioned on a U-shaped seat. Then her legs were bent down and strapped at the thigh, knee, and ankle, leaving her spread wide in humiliating shame. A tube was positioned just in front of her mouth. They then spent some time lining up a bulky-looking machine over her body. Finally, they strapped her waist firmly to the side of the ship. The pink cloud dissipated, and she hung in her straps.
One by one, the dazed women regained their composure. Then the one opposite raised her head and regarded Danajane.
"So you are the result of the fight, hey?"
"Yes, I'm Danajane. What are you - er, we all - doing here?"
"I am Firstgun Top, formally known as Seethmantrica. What is your position?"
"What do you mean?"
"What did they say before you were brought down here?"
"Er, 'Bridge forward one position,' I think."
"So you will be a busy girl. A very busy girl. You are not a virgin, are you?"
Danajane blushed. "Er, yes. Why does everyone want to know?"
One of the other women laughed, a bitter, ironic cackle. "It is Harkass's Joke, putting a virgin into Bridge Forward one. He knows she will be in pain; it strengthens the shield."
"Don't mind Cargocover two. She's been here too long."
"Er, Seethmantrica, can I ask you a question?"
"Don't call us by our previous names; it is forbidden. I am Firstgun Top, and you are Bridge Forward One. Do you understand?"
"Yes?"
"So what is your question?"
"Why are we here?"
"A good question, Bridge Forward One. We are supplying a very valuable commodity for the Morgons. You see, they need a certain compound in order for their shields to be effective. They searched the universe for it, then, by chance, they found a unique source of that compound, which was available in liberal quantities when the conditions were right. They needed the compound for use in their continuing war with the Quageelers. Which is why they were bothering to negotiate with the Humans at all. They had a basic understanding between the two species, but then the talks broke down because they couldn't agree on the quantity of the compound generators that were to be supplied."
"Has this compound got anything to do with why we're here?"
"It has everything to do with why we're here."
"Why? What is it?"
"Pussyjuice," said Seethmantrica.
"Do you have them on scanners?"
"Yes, Commander Harkass."
"Composition?"
"Forty-two vessels, of which 19 are Strato-class destroyers."
"Good, then we will have a good fight today."
Briefly, he thought of Red, then he gave the order. "Raise Shields."
"What's happening?" screamed the terrified girl as the clanging of the alarm reverberated through the ship.
"You'll see," cackled Cargocover two.
Danajane tugged at her straps when she felt the machine between her legs suddenly throb into life. She looked around, searching frantically for some escape. She noticed that most of the girls were looking at her. Seethmantrica had her eyes closed in concentration. Suddenly, they snapped open.
"Relax, Bridge Forward One. It will be easier."
The probe rammed into Danajane, sundering her carefully hoarded virginity like paper. It was stiff and rough, like a very hard sponge.It lingered for a brief moment, then it started pumping frantically. Danajane twisted and turned as best as she could in the bondage, but the probe was brutal and relentless, pounding away at the center of her being as it tried to draw her precious fluids from her and into the shield mechanism. Meanwhile, the massage units kicked in, massaging every part of her body with warm fur. Her breasts received the most attention as they were gently kneaded while the nipples were teasingly sucked.
Wildly, she looked around and saw that most of the girls were similarly engaged. Soon, their moans of pain were replaced by moans of lust as the machines did their work.
A fire started to build in her belly. Onward and upward, it roared until it seemed like her body could contain it no longer, and she orgasmed in a welter of juices.
The bridge took two hits simultaneously. The shield value dropped alarmingly.
Deep, deep down in the bowels of the ship, the young girl writhed in hopeless lust as the probe doubled, then tripled, its speed. Her head shook, whipping her hair backwards and forwards across her sweaty red face. Her feet drummed a tattoo as the orgasm hit, creating a white hot supernova of pure ecstasy.
The machine was rewarded with a gout of precious cream, and the shield value slipped up by ten percent. The probe thundered on.
The battle raged for hours, with the ponderous fighting ships pounding each other like drunken bare-knuckle boxers. Finally, the Morgons started to yield as one by one, their shields lost their effectiveness or, in some cases, died completely.
Eventually, Harkass called off the fight, and his ships cloaked and hyperspaced out. He wasn't worried about the battle. There would be others, and he would be better prepared next time. He'd captured nearly two hundred new shield generators to replace those too worn out or sick to provide adequate cover. These he left behind to be integrated back with their species.
Just as he engaged the drive, he glanced up at the bridge forward one shield indicator. It still read 100 percent. He clapped his spartucles together. He was looking forward to testing her in the many great battles to come. | 4 |
7,414 | African Dreams | "Dean!" called Mark. He squinted in the bright light of the African noonday sun as he searched for his son. He listened closely and over the whine of insects, he heard a peal of laughter emanating from a clump of trees thirty feet away.
Mark sighed and started to trudge over the uneven ground towards the grove. There was no way he was going to go through this every evening; he would have to buy a tracker program. Of course, he could have turned the room off and not bothered hunting his son down. But he had read in far too many books that doing that could harm the development of the child. He was dubious of many of the claims made in those books, but these days he couldn't afford to add to his weighty problems.
So he walked in the sweltering heat, as he always did, to recover his son from a world that didn't exist. At least he wouldn't have to worry about being burnt by the sun. It was programmed to be fully safe for all ages, and Dean hadn't even got a tan, despite all the hours he spent in the room.
Finally, he reached the trees and peered into the darkness under them. "Dean? Come on, it's past your bedtime."
"Don't want to!" A petulant voice replied from less than five feet away.
"Don't start now, Dean, please! It'll all be here for you tomorrow."
Receiving no reply, Mark pushed into the dense growth. Something was moving just a few feet ahead. "Dean! Come here this instant!" He pushed through the grass and something large stood up in front of him.
It roared straight into Mark's face, and he fell back in fright, instinctively balling up on the floor.
Then common sense took over, and he felt embarrassed and angry. He looked up at Dean's laughing face as his son sat on top of the lion's head. "You're funny!" Dean remarked delighted.
Mark counted to five and then stood up. Of course the lion was no threat, but even after the last few weeks, it was still almost impossible to convince the primitive sections of his brain of that fact. Dean made no attempt to hide again, perhaps aware that he had pushed his father as far as he should.
Mark picked his son off the lion and said "Door," loudly enough for the computer to register.
"Door!" Dean mimicked as the exit from the room and the route back to reality appeared as if by magic.
The house lights seemed dim after the African savannah. But then, that only matched Mark's feelings for the house. Once it had been a home, now it was just a house. Empty and cold.
Mark pushed those thoughts from his mind and put his son to bed. After he closed the door of Dean's room behind him, Mark dreaded the evening ahead. As he had dreaded all the evenings for months now.
This was the time when the house seemed the most empty. When Dean was up, even when in that playroom of his, Mark could fool himself that everything was alright. That Helen had just gone out for a few minutes. That she would be returning from doing the grocery shopping soon. That she wouldn't be run off the road by some drunk fucker--
Mark cursed his treacherous mind and headed back to the stairs. Helen's death had ruined every memory he had of her. The six years of happiness and love were now overlaid, like an oily film, with the memory of that day when his world shattered.
His psychiatrist told him that one day he would be able to remember the good times unsullied by her death, but Mark didn't believe him.
He looked in on his own bedroom, but couldn't face the prospect of sleeping there that night. He would have moved into the spare room, but for the fact that if he did that he knew he would never go into his and Helen's bedroom ever again.
Blazing sunlight was leaking round the door of Dean's playroom. He had forgotten to turn the thing off. Something stopped him in the process of shutting the VR room down, and he stepped inside. It'd be better than staying in the house with all those painful memories of Helen, and he'd still be close by if Dean needed him.
He closed the door behind him and suddenly he was alone in the middle of Africa. He looked around him and he had to admit it was totally realistic. It should be too at the price he had paid for it.
Mark tried to decide which way to go, but anything interesting looked miles away. A smile crossed his face. Why walk?
"Guide," he said, and an eight-foot tall pink dinosaur appeared beside him.
"Hi!" it said enthusiastically. "What do you want to do today?"
"Basic menu," growled Mark. The dinosaur faded and was replaced by a rotating triangle six inches along each side and hovering eye level above the ground. If anything that 'dinosaur' made him shudder more than the lions.
"Give me a Jeep," Mark told the guide and waited.
It took the computer several moments to analyze his request and decide what he probably wanted. Then it produced a Jeep straight out of the second world war, even down to the markings.
Mark shrugged. It wasn't what he had in mind, but it would do. "Give me a road in that direction," Mark said, pointing in a random direction. This was an easier command to process, and a perfectly straight length of tarmac stretched into the distance from his feet.
He climbed into the Jeep, started it up and roared down the road as fast as he could go. Animals looked up warily as he passed, often moving further away from the strange metal beast.
The novelty soon palled, however, and Mark wondered what to do next. Maybe he should call up an Indy Car circuit and go racing. Just as he was about to call the guide, he noticed something odd in the distance. What looked like a white tower.
He turned off the road and moved over the uneven ground towards it. The tower proved to be closer than it had first appeared and seemed to have a long flat overhanging piece at the top and a ladder at the back. It was a diving board.
As he got closer, he could see that it came with a pool as well. It was insanity to have a pool there, of course, but then this wasn't reality. Mark wondered if it had been included in the program as a joke by the programmer.
Still, Mark's curiosity was piqued, and he stopped the jeep by the pool and walked over to it. The sun was still very warm, and the water seemed very cool and inviting. Mark stripped to his underpants and cautiously eased himself into the water. He didn't want to risk diving in just in case the pool was only a visual illusion and he crashed into the ground. It would be an appallingly stupid way to die and he wasn't sure the playroom would protect him.
But the water seemed real and it was certainly refreshing. Mark lazily swam a few lengths and then dived down to the bottom of the pool. He touched the bottom and then came back up for air. This was actually quite fun. Perhaps he should spend some more time in here after Dean had gone to bed.
"You finally made it then," a voice behind him remarked. "I was beginning to think you'd never come."
Mark shivered. Nothing in the world could make him turn around at that moment and face the person who had just spoken. He knew that voice. He knew that voice very well. It was a voice engraved on his soul and he had never thought he would ever hear it again.
"Well," said the voice again, "aren't you going to say hello."
Unsteadily, Mark turned around in the water and looked at the other person. "Hello, Helen," he said.
His wife was wearing her favourite white bikini. She smiled at him and then dived gracefully into the water.
As he watched her stroke through the water towards him, he tried to work out how she could be there. She was dead. He had had to identify the body himself. How had she gotten into Dean's program?
Helen surfaced right in front of him and she put her arms around him. Mark was paralyzed by two powerful emotions running through him.On the one hand, he knew she was dead and he felt like he was holding a corpse. But on the other, it was obvious she was warm and alive, and it was Helen.
"W-what are you doing here?" he asked.
"I'm here with you and Dean, of course," she replied as if he should have known that. "Where is my little bundle of joy, anyway?"
"He's gone to bed," Mark said quietly. It was Helen; there was no doubt, but how had she got there?
"We played all afternoon together," she told him. "He's got your smile, you know."
Dean had done this, Mark realized. He had probably asked for his Mommy, and the ever-helpful pink dinosaur had gone and analyzed some of the home movies in the House memory and created Helen. Dean was still too young to truly understand what had happened to his mom, but her absence had obviously driven Dean to create her in the playroom. No wonder he spent so much time in there.
Mark knew he should delete this program from the playroom and have a long talk with Dean. Painful as it would be, his son couldn't continue to lean on this virtual mom. It would damage his development.
Helen leaned in and kissed him. Mark opened his mouth in surprise, and her tongue met his. Dear God, he thought, she even tastes the same. His body reacted just as it always did, and she gently pressed her pelvis against his hardness.
Instinctively, his hand slipped around her waist and held her slim form to his. The desire and the loneliness crashed over him, and tears started to run down his face as he held her.
"Shhh, it's alright," she said as she gently stroked the back of his head.
"I've missed you so much, Helen."
"I know, but I'm here now."
Her hand snaked down between them and tugged at his briefs. Slowly, she eased them over his swollen member and then down.
Mark's fingers ran slowly over his wife's body and then slipped under the bikini bottom. She looked at him and smiled, "I'm already wet."
Mark couldn't help but laugh back, "Of course you are. We're standing in four feet of water." He pulled her bikini bottom off, and she removed her top at the same time.
He ducked down just below the water line to reach Helen's nipples. They were as deliciously dark and inviting as he remembered. His hand stole between her legs and gently parted her lower lips.
Helen wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave a small contented sigh. Mark could feel his own pent-up urgency growing, and he knew he could hold back no longer. He scooped his hands under her thighs and lifted her. In the water, it felt like she weighed nothing at all, and it was no strain to carefully lower her onto his manhood. Almost infinitely slowly, she slid down and down until he was fully inside her.
For the first time in months, he was complete again. His wife's long, smooth legs were wrapped around his waist, and he held her tightly. He was almost afraid to start thrusting as that meant he would have to pull away from her to start with, but then the two of them started to slowly move together in perfect harmony. Her sensuous inner warmth stretching and separating to admit his firmness inside.
It had been far too long since they had been together like this, and Mark was quickly growing to his climax. He could sense a similar urge in Helen as if this program also felt the same longing.
Their movements increased in speed. Now her fingernails were digging deep into his back, but he didn't care. It just proved that she was feeling as excited as he was. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and it was easy for him to feel her nipples digging into him.
Her own thrusting faltered and stopped as her orgasm overcame her, but Mark just redoubled his own efforts. He was so close to his own climax. Then he too orgasmed, and he buried his face into his wife's neck as he pumped his seed into her.
Mark had no idea how long they remained locked together like that, gently kissing and caressing each other. Eventually, Helen pulled back. "We're going to get all wrinkled if we stay in here much longer."
"I don't care," Mark replied.
"Well, you're not a woman. You don't care about your body as much as we do." She gracefully lifted herself out of the pool.
Mark managed to retrieve his briefs from the floor of the pool and then followed. Apparently, while they had been making love, some sun chairs had appeared around the water's edge. Helen lazily rolled into one and sighed, "This is the life. Do you remember the last time we made love in the water?"
"Yeah, it was just off that secluded beach in the Caribbean."
"I tried giving you a blow job and I almost drowned!" She giggled.
Mark stopped and looked at her closely. How did she know that? It certainly wasn't stored anywhere in the house memory. "I suppose it wasn't one of my better ideas."
"I always wanted to go to Africa, you know," Helen said wistfully.
"That's right, we kept putting it off until Dean was older. Then we ran out of time and you... you were gone." He fought to stop himself from crying again.
Helen got up and walked over. "I know it hasn't been easy. If I had any say in the matter, I would never have left you and Dean. But I didn't, so I did. Did you buy this room for Dean?"
"Yeah, he loves it here. I'm not so sure I did the right thing doing it though."
"Nonsense, it's good for him. I was watching him earlier playing with his friends. Without this program linked to the net, he would never have known they existed. You should spend more time in here with him, though."
"Yes, dear," he said in a mock-contrite voice.
She smiled. "I mean it. I know how badly my death hurt you, but you mustn't let it build a wall between you and Dean." She let that sink in for a moment before saying, "Look at that sunset! Isn't it magnificent?"
Mark turned in the direction she was looking. The sun was near the horizon, but he could have sworn it was nearly noon just moments before. "The sun's nearly gone," he said.
"Yes, but even though you won't be able to see it soon, it'll still exist. And, in time, you'll see it again."
Mark pondered that strange remark as he watched the sun slowly slip beyond the horizon in a blaze of yellow and orange. "I really wish we'd made it to Africa to see this for real," he remarked after it had gone. "Helen?"
He turned around, and even in the twilight, he could see he was alone. Of Helen and the pool, there was no sign. He yelled his wife's name at the top of his voice, but there was no response except the sound of insects in the night. "Basic menu!" he snapped, and the rotating triangle cursor reappeared. "Return the pool," he commanded.
"Unable to comply," the menu said.
"The pool that was right here. Bring it back."
"This program contains no pools. One can be added at a small additional charge of--"
"Shut up," Mark told the computer tiredly. He tried quizzing the computer several different ways, but it flatly denied the existence of any pools or recreations of Helen in its database.
"I'm going to have a very long examination of your software," he growled at the room. Time was moving on, and it was getting late. He decided he would do it the next morning. "Door!"
The exit from the room obediently appeared, and Mark stepped through it. He looked back into the darkness of the African program before turning it off. The vision faded to be replaced by a small, plain white room. Slowly, he closed the door.
"Mommy?"
The voice was Dean's. The door to his room was open, and Mark quickly strode to it and through. Dean was awake and looking up at the other person in the room. Helen was now wearing a long, flowing summer dress. She looked up and smiled at Mark.
His jaw dropped at the sight of her, and a lump blocked his throat. How could she be here? In the VR room, was one thing, but Dean's bedroom was quite different. There were no holo-projectors outside of the playroom.
She gently kissed Dean's forehead, "I love you, sweetheart." She looked up at Mark, "And I love you too."
"Helen, I--"
"Shhh," she replied gently, "remember what I told you, my love."
And then she was gone as if she had never been there.
"Where's Mommy?" Dean asked. "Where Mommy go?"
He sat down beside her and rubbed Dean's head. At last, he understood what she had said in the playroom.
"You or I can't see her, but she will always be with us and looking after us." He tucked Dean into bed and sat with him until the boy had drifted off to sleep before going to his own bedroom.
The house still seemed empty, but Mark was at peace. It wasn't forever, and he now realized that he had never been truly separated from Helen and that he never could be.
And one day - maybe decades from then, but one day - they would be together again. | 5 |
7,427 | The Back Rub | "Marty, it's not the end of the world. Although, it did feel like that for a while. Still, I wouldn't be here tonight if she and I were still together."
Marty cocked an eyebrow at me.
"Well, it would have stopped with the back rub...I think." That brought me back into her arms.
Marty reached between us and said, "We still have a problem here and it doesn't seem to want to go away."
"True enough, my lady. But them's the breaks. I think I'm negative, but I can't prove it even to myself."
"You were very good to me tonight, G. I'm going to do what I can."
"Tell you what, Marty. Let's take a break and have something to eat. Some food, I mean." With that, we both started to get up. "No, you stay here. If I can't find what I need, I'll ask Fleur."
I was really glad I had brought the food. Marty didn't keep much of a supply of high-energy food in her apartment. A lot of lettuce, though. Of course, that's why she had the figure she did. Arranging my little tidbits on a serving platter, I decided that another bottle of wine was also necessary. And, I was getting tired of the CD I had selected an hour ago.
I didn't exactly waltz back into her bedroom. Naked men and swinging dicks can't dance (among other things). The scents of Marty's orgasms and the candles had permeated the entire apartment. (At least, the candles had; I wore enough of Marty's to smell it wherever I went.
Hungrier than we both realized, the food on the platter didn't last long. The quiet in the apartment closed in around us. Even the street noises were far off.
"The one thing I'm a little low is an adequate selection of fruit. We'll have to make do with the grapes and the pears." Sitting facing her, I realized again how truly beautiful she was in her natural state.
"This is a treat I learned from my friend, the ex-restaurant owner," as I smeared some Gorgonzola cheese onto a grape. Offering it to her, a small piece of cheese dropped off to land on her belly. Grinning and saying, "I'll get it," I bent down to lick it off her pale olive skin. Once there, I could see no reason to leave and I widened the strokes of my tongue until I approached her mons.
"If we can't fuck," I said as I looked up her torso to her face, "there is one thing I'd like."
"Name it and it's...we'll see," was Marty's two-part rejoinder.
"No," I replied as I rubbed my beard into her equivalent. "No, you will like it. Do we have a deal?"
Once again, I saw Marty pause and think over what had happened tonight. She had two glorious orgasms just because she had agreed to a back rub.
Nodding her head in agreement, Marty looked directly at me.
Scooting up beside her, now, I leaned over and said, "I want you to sit on my face. I don't know any other way of saying it. At least then," and I smiled, "I get to hold onto the bed."
Trying not to laugh at my comment on her hand holds, Marty asked me, "Why?"
"It's great for both of us. You control where your body is; I get to be where I want for as long as you want. Besides, tongues don't get tired and soft quickly. They get sore, but they don't get tired. And I can cheat. I've got lips, beard and, as a final option, my teeth."
"Ooh...I don't know about the last."
"No biting, I promise."
"Uh...how do we work this?"
Gathering up the remains of our bedside picnic, I motioned her away from the head of the bed. Crawling into the warm, and slightly damp, place in the middle of the bed, I plumped two of her pillows under my head.
"That saves wear and tear on my neck."
"You've done this before, haven't you?" said Marty as I arranged myself.
"Not with you I haven't," and I reached out to bring her down for a kiss on the end of her nose.
"What about our small friend here?" Marty ruffled my penis through my pubic hair.
"Let him find his own girl. He can take care of himself."
Gradually, we fell into the same exchange of tongues, in my mouth and then in Marty's. I knew that she would like this and it was one of my all-time favorites. While we kissed, I ran my hands back and forth across those wonderful breasts of hers. Marty was of slim build, but that only served to enhance the attractiveness of her breasts.
When I could feel her nipples beginning to stiffen under the tweaking and pulling of my fingers, it was time to move to center stage.
"Marty"
"Ummm. Do I have to move?"
"Sit up here with your legs on either side of my head."
Plopping herself down as directed, Marty wiggled her bottom and vulva on my upper chest. "Come a little closer and sit up straighter. I can't believe you've never done this."
My first lick was from the bottom of her vulva to her clitoris. With our previous lovemaking, Marty had responded to my initiatives. This way, she could guide me to the spots needing the most attention. True to my word, I started to reach up and grab onto the iron bars of the headboard.
Marty's body began to move up and down as my tongue worked into her vagina. I could taste the new flow of her arousal as I tongue-fucked her. My hands were happier smoothing the skin on her buttocks and hips. Every now and then, as I concentrated on the upper reaches of her vulva, I slid my fingers underneath her butt and stroked along her labia.
When I felt her hands cover mine, I knew I was in for a ride worth remembering. But, my hands had better things to do. Marty's vagina was completely open to me now. I ran her labia between my thumbs and index fingers while I focused my tongue and lips on the tissue around her clitoris.
Gradually increasing the sucking pressure of my mouth, I circled her clitoris with my tongue. Marty's hips were now moving in an intricate sideways pattern to complement her up and down motions. With more and more pressure from her, I started to stroke the length of her clitoris. I wished my tongue were longer so that I could press the rougher skin of her "G" spot with the end of it.
Above me, I could sense Marty's torso swaying in time with her hips. She began to fiercely press her genitals into my face so I added more pleasure for her by lightly brushing the fingernails of my left hand over her anus.
That was it!
Her thighs slammed against my head and the trunk of her body jerked to the demands of her orgasm. I was grateful that my head had sunk into the pillows. Cauliflower ears may be the honorable sign of a boxer; they don't do anything for a lover's appearance.
With my lips suctioning around the top of her opened vulva, I flicked the tip of my tongue across her clitoris just as she relaxed from each contraction of her orgasm. Each time, it triggered another. I kept a steady pressure outside her vagina while the middle finger of my left hand poked at the tight sphincter of her anus.
I didn't know whether these were individual climaxes or merely a series of mini-orgasms. I also had no idea how many. When your partner is experiencing that much rapturous pleasure, who counts?
Suddenly, Marty forced her body away from all of my attending parts. As she fought to regain her breath, I could see a deep flush across her face and upper breasts. With her mouth wide open, Marty hurriedly dragged air into her oxygen-starved lungs. I'm sure there was a pool of her vaginal come on my chest.
"Oh FUCK! That was unbelievable!"
Collapsing down on me, I could feel the pounding of her heart. Running my hands over her back, I let Marty come down from her high.
Grabbing my ears in each hand, Marty stared into my eyes. "Do you have any idea what that felt like?" she stammered.
"No, my love, but it sure was great being part of it." was my honest answer.
"What did you call me?
"My love. Why?"
"Do you?"
"Have for months now.I couldn't tell you because I thought it might mess things up at work.
"So that's why you went to these lengths when I called you this afternoon?"
"No...not entirely. It was also because you called me Babe. That's very special to me, Marty. Just like you are."
"Special? Well, I have something special for you! Except I don't think I can move."
Holding her loosely in my arms, I started to chuckle. This magnificent woman, this wondrous female had nothing more to give me. I'm not entirely altruistic. But if you can't fuck, then any man would want his partner to have the most glorious orgasm possible.
In the wavering light of the candles in Marty's bedroom, I knew that, truly, I had not expected all of this to happen. I was the one who had received the gift. To be part of the entire evening was more than enough. To have initiated and to be part of her thundering orgasm, that was a true lover's reward.
But Marty was not done yet.
"I'd like to wash my face but I have a better idea. Why don't we have a shower?" I asked her.
"You're on!"
The soothing hot water didn't have its normal calming effect. There was a lot of woman to lather, rinse and stroke. Marty was equally attentive to making sure all my body parts were squeaky clean.
Standing in the steamy bathroom, I would never again look at Marty as purely a business woman. Taking turns, we patted each other dry. Standing behind her, I reached for her hands. Looking over her shoulder, I watched our faint reflection in the mirror as I rubbed her hands against her breasts.
Together, we walked back into her bedroom.
Throwing the beach towel into her hamper, Marty bent over to straighten the sheets on her bed. I couldn't resist cupping the lips of her vulva as they peeked out between her legs. Marty couldn't resist moving herself back against my hand.
"G," Marty swung around until she was sitting, cross-legged on the bed. "How do you want it?"
Looking at the impish look that took years away from her, I ran my forefinger down her jaw. "We talked about that, didn't we?"
"But we never finished and, from the look of your little head, he hasn't finished either."
"No, we use these." Saying this, Marty opened the drawer to her bedside table. "You might have forgotten them; I didn't." Triumphantly, she held up a box of condoms.
"Hey," I exclaimed. "My favorite brand!"
"Are they really?"
"Well, no. But they'll work, won't they?"
"Yeah...and they taste nice too!"
Trust an expert to cover all the senses. Marty pulled me over by the most available part and stripped the wrapping off one of the condoms.
"I'd like you to come in my mouth but that's for later, for some other time. Tonight, you can have me any other way."
"Oh - ho," I thought. "Later." That promised more than I thought likely when that guy downstairs wished me "Good Luck."
There's something awfully sensuous about a lover putting a condom on you. Much stroking first, little kisses up and down, fingernails running through your pubic hair to tickle your scrotum. I saw her mouth open as she bent her head to my penis, and then close.
"Later."
"Later," she agreed. "Come. Lay down on the bed and let me pleasure you."
I didn't need a second invitation.
Marty began leaving a trail of kisses up my left leg. As she extended her upper body towards my chest, she gently swung her breast over my legs and groin. It didn't take long for this friction to harden her nipples. I looked up at her face, as she settled her legs down on either side of me.
Marty's pelvis ran her labia along my condom-covered penis. Leaning closer, she offered one hard pointed breast to my lips. I sucked in her nipple. Gently holding the nipple with my lips and teeth, I milked the ivory flesh of her breast as if I were really suckling. Having tenderized that teat, I switched to the other.
Marty's eyes were closed as she sank down onto me. Her hip movements were becoming more insistent as her labia opened up and the friction stimulated her clitoris. A couple of times, the head of my penis would bump against her pubic arch. Once, it was about to enter her vagina but Marty shifted enough so she could continue rubbing me with the lubrications of her arousal. By then, my hips were moving back and forth as well.
Marty opened her eyes. "G."
"Yes, love."
"It's time for you to come."
"Good. Because a few more swipes like that and this card's tapped out."
Marty flexed her pelvis and magically scooped me inside her. Sitting more erect, Marty placed her hands on my chest. We both paused, savoring the feeling of our joining.
"This is going to be good, G."
Kneading her fingers through the hair on my chest, Marty lifted up and simultaneously squeezed my penis in her vagina. Relaxing her internal pressure, Marty dropped back down. Wiggling her hips, she brushed her clitoris against the root of my penis.
Lifting again, she repeated the same sequence. "Hold onto me," she instructed.
I placed my hands where her hips bulged out on the downstroke. My thumbs mimicked her movement, up her abdomen when she lifted, down when she descended.
Her pace began to pick up as she fucked my penis deeper into her. When she bottomed out, Marty began to squirm around almost as if her clitoris wasn't getting enough stimulation. At the top of the next stroke, I moved my left hand to her buttocks and tried to hold her there. I was very close.
My right hand moved to the front of her abdomen, pressing into her and allowing me to stroke her clitoris with my thumb. I was now pressing her towards me, from behind while exerting an equal force, away from me, with my right hand.
Marty began to tremble so I began rubbing around the base of her clitoris. As my thumb moved faster, I couldn't wait any longer. I started to come and let her slam down onto me, still stimulating her clitoris. This time, I could watch her come as the orgasm rippled through her. With a part moan, part groan and part scream, Marty let her orgasm take over.
The mouth of her vagina was so tight on me that each pulse of my own ejaculation rebounded, building both of us higher.
No, I didn't shoot enough ejaculate to blow up the condom like a balloon. I do think that I passed out for a few seconds though.
The sound of our breathing must have made interesting hearing in the next apartment. It took forever for both of us to catch our breath and begin to slow our heartbeats. I really hadn't expected such a hard come from Marty. This was going to be one challenging woman to stay even with.
"God damn, Marty. Do you know how good that felt?" I echoed her earlier question.
Blinking her eyes open, Marty looked down at the smile on my face. "Next time, I give you the back rub."
The End | 5 |
7,475 | Red Rain | "So," I hemmed nervously, "this is nice."
It was like something out of the Twilight Zone. The three women I was having dinner with might as well have been clones, each at a different stage of development.
I was seated at the head of the dining table, with Camille on my right and Casey at my left. Stacey, the older girl, was next to Casey, further down along the table.
At least the food was excellent: spaghetti in a rich red sauce that had bits of sausage in it, with stuffed mushrooms and garlic bread on the side. There was a bottle of Corbel, too, but Camille was drinking most of it herself.
"So, uh, Casey, you like baseball, huh?"
Casey, who had just slurped up one long noodle, liberally spattering her face with tomato paste, just rolled her eyes as if I'd asked the stupidest question on earth. Stacey snorted loudly.
"Our father likes baseball," Camille answered sharply.
"I do, too!" Casey insisted.
"You know," I interjected, "I couldn't help wondering..."
"Daddy wasn't invited," Casey said, answering my question before it had been asked in a small, sad little voice.
"Father remarried after mother died," Camille explained, seeing my curious look. "I don't get along well with her."
"Stacey says Barbara's a 'cunt'!" Casey added. Both her sisters shouted at her in unison.
"You little troll!" Stacey added, punching the girl in the arm.
"Stacey!" Camille barked furiously, banging her fists down on the table hard, rattling the china. I suddenly wished she wasn't hogging all the champagne.
Casey murmured darkly, rubbing her arm.
"You know," I said, again desperate to change the subject, "this meal is terrific!"
"Get used to it, Stud," Stacey muttered. "Everything else she makes tastes like bat barf!"
Camille didn't say anything, but she glared murderously at her younger sibling. In spite of the tension, Casey giggled a little at "bat barf."
Camille poured herself another glass while the rest of us quietly stared at our plates, occasionally shoveling a forkload of pasta into our mouths.
"So tell me, Stud..." Stacey began.
"Will you please stop calling him that!" Camille snapped.
Undaunted, the girl ignored her sister and looked me straight in the eye.
"So how did you two meet?"
"At a party, actually," I said as Camille knocked back half of her refreshed flute.
"Were you drunk?" she asked, giving Camille a dirty look from the corner of her eye.
"Not particularly," I answered. Camille had her hands in her lap, curled up into tight little fists. I reached under the table, took her left hand in my right, and gave it a reassuring little squeeze.
Stacey seemed disappointed, and quietly went back to her dinner. Casey carefully placed both hands around her glass of milk and lifted it to her lips. When she set the glass back down, a deep, heady belch escaped her.
"Good one!" Stacey laughed.
"What do we say, Casey?" Camille said sternly.
"Sorry," the little girl answered meekly.
"Jesus, Camilla," Stacey shot back, angrily. "Like you're so perfect you never burp or cut the cheese!"
Camille glared at Stacey, but the girl went on, addressing me directly.
"I hope you know your girlfriend shits milk white chocolate!"
A stunned silence fell over the table.
"Is that with... or without almonds?" I asked, batting my eyelashes innocently.
Stacey's jaw dropped open, and Camille looked at me with open shock. Then the teenager broke into a wild, almost hyena-like, laughter. I joined her, chuckling affably, giving Camile's hand another squeeze. Casey joined in, not quite getting the joke, but not wanting to be left out.
Even Camille managed a tight smile at her own expense.
We ate the rest of the meal in good spirits. As Camille got up to bring out the sherbet, I felt a sudden urge to try again with the small talk.
"So, what time is Camille taking you two home tonight?"
"She's, uh, not," Stacey replied, her eyes darting around evasively.
"I'm not what?" Camille asked, returning from the kitchen.
When I told her, she made a strange face.
"Well, Casey is staying until Sunday," she explained, looking intently at Stacey. "And I just assumed Stacey would just drive herself home."
"I, uh, didn't see a car out there..." I said nervously. Stacey gave me a dark look and Camille's tension returned with a vengeance.
"What happened to your car?" Camille demanded icily.
"Geez! It was just a little fender-bender! You don't have to get all postal about it! Carly's going to pick me up at ten!"
"You mean your stoner friend?"
I shifted in my chair, suddenly very uncomfortable. I caught Casey's eye and we regarded each other, embarrassed.
"Wanna see my baseball cards?" she asked quietly. I nodded eagerly, and she took my hand and led me away from the burgeoning war zone.
She led me to the stairs, and for an instant, I had a horrifying vision of her calmly leading me by the hand down the stairs, to that place of darkness; her piping, melancholic voice the last thing that I would hear as the door slams shut, saying, "We look like everyone else."
Thankfully, she led me up the stairs instead, to the second bedroom which had, up until then, registered in my consciousness as little more than a closed door next to the bathroom.
The room was much like her sister's next door, save for the fact that the furnishings were all obviously reproductions, instead of genuine antiques, and all painted in a matching white. There were pennants on the walls, all Cubs, and a bookcase whose shelves were filled with binders on the lower levels and a few assorted plastic figurines on the upper ones.
"This isn't my real collection," she said, stressing the word "real." "These are just my doubles. My real collection's at home."
She picked out a binder and we walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of the pink, quilted comforter. I looked at pictures of people I didn't know, and listened to stats I could care less about. The more she went on, the more she relaxed.
"Do you get to see a lot of games?"
"I used to, all the time," she said, the glum quality returning to her voice. "But now daddy spends all his time with Barbara." She said the name like a child's taunt.
"So... I guess you stay over here a lot?" I asked, looking around the room again. After all, sweet as she was, she did represent a possible hitch in my blossoming sex life.
She shrugged. "Every other weekend or so. I think Camilla wants to be my mommy."
I looked down at her, surprised at her insight.
We sat quietly for a moment, the binder still open in her lap. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my billfold.
"You wanna see something?" I asked, unfolding the worn cowhide.
She nodded, looking between me and the wallet with avid curiosity.
"Okay," I began, "this is a true story. Before I was born, my parents lived in New York City..."
"Yankees!" she said, breaking into a heartbreakingly innocent grin.
"Exactly," I said, returning the smile. "Anyway, my grandfather was a taxi driver. Was his whole life. And people were always leaving stuff behind in his cab. Jackets, money, umbrellas..." I left out used condoms and hypodermics.
"The day I was born, right before he got the news, in fact, he was cleaning out his cab from that morning, and he found this - " I handed her the card, and her eyes became as big as saucers - "wedged down into the back seat."
The card had been bent in half, the corners were dog-eared, and the border had severe foxing, but none of that mattered to her.
"Joe DiMaggio," she whispered reverently. I nodded.
"My grandfather always kept it in his wallet after that. Considered it his good luck charm. When he died he passed it on to me."
I saw the way her eyes sparkled, the way her tiny hands trembled as she held the ratty old thing, tenderly, yet clinging to it for dear life.
"You like that, huh?" I asked. She looked up at me with newfound respect and nodded solemnly.
"You can keep it, if you like."
"Jordan, no!I looked over at the sound of Camille's voice and saw her standing in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, looking at me in the same awestruck way that her sister was.
Casey jumped off the bed, calling out to her sister and brandishing her newfound treasure like the Holy Grail itself.
"Look Camilla, look! Joe DiMaggio! Joe DiMaggio!"
I laughed and stood up slowly. Camille was saying "Yes, that's nice," without ever looking at the card. Instead, she kept her eyes on me the whole time.
"I can't let you..." she began.
"Aw, it's pretty beat up. You can barely make out the autograph."
Casey shrieked with excitement and immediately began thoroughly inspecting the card for the faded remnants of ink.
"Jordan, it must still be worth..."
Ignoring her, I turned to Casey.
"Hold out your hand," I said.
She did, giving me a funny look, and I gave her a quick low-five.
"Slapjack," I said in the parlance of my own childhood, "no tradebacks!"
"What's that mean?" she asked, puzzled.
I dropped my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, but not so low that Camille couldn't hear me.
"That means she can't make you give it back."
Casey started dancing around the room, while Camille still glared at me with resigned irritation. I smiled and gave her a fleeting kiss. She sighed, gave me a look that indicated she didn't know if she wanted to hug me or punch me in the nose, and then leaned in and gave me a second, longer kiss.
"It's past your bedtime!" she said loudly, resting her forehead against my chest.
"Awww!"
"Say good night to Jordan, please," Camille said, pushing herself away from me reluctantly.
The little girl walked over to me and stared up with those huge, sad eyes.
"Good night, Jordan."
I smiled warmly back at her. "Night, Casey."
Then Camille shooed me from the room as she began giving orders for Casey to prepare for bed.
I strolled down the stairs with a goofy grin on my face. There was a cool breeze through the living room, and it carried a smell I still remembered from college.
Stacey was on the back deck, the joint clenched between her lips. She looked over her shoulder at me as I stepped through the open sliding glass door.
"Pretty expensive bribe for your girlfriend's kid sister, don't you think, stud?" she asked, taking a long drag.
She exhaled a cloud of noxious smoke and tried to smile at me seductively.
"Makes me wonder what you've got for me!"
"You heard all that, did you?" I asked, leaning up against the rail beside her.
She nodded, and offered me the cigarette.
"Want some?"
I shook my head and she shrugged her shoulders as if it were no skin off her ass.
"I don't know," I mumbled, turning to stare out over the placid, gray surface of the lake. The air was cool, but it had lost the bite of the previous days' chill.
"Maybe it was a bit much, but fuck it! By the time I have kids, baseball will be so far out of it that they won't even care who Joe DiMaggio was. Hell, I only really know about him from the card, and 'Mrs. Robinson.'"
"Who's Mrs. Robinson?" Stacey asked. I turned my head slightly, to see if she was yanking me. She wasn't.
"So tell me," I said, turning back to face her; leaning up against the rail on one elbow, "why do you enjoy busting your sister's balls so much?"
"Maybe because she always acts like she has balls," she said, taking one long, final drag. She flicked the remainder away towards the lake; a cascade of sparks flitting through the air before being swallowed up by the night.
"She's a bitch," she said, blowing out a last, billowing plume up into the air. "She deserves it. You could do better."
"Why? You know someone who's available?"
She smiled enigmatically, and was on the verge of responding when the distant crunch of tires on the gravel drive interrupted; followed by the grating bleat of a horn.
"Gotta jet, stud," she said, backing away, still smiling. "You watch out for those almonds, now. They get stuck between your teeth!"
She winked, and disappeared around the prow of the house. A few seconds later, the car tore out of the drive loudly, with a gratuitous flourish of the horn.
Silence slowly settled down over things again. I turned back to the lake and lost myself in its depths for a while. Eventually I heard Camille close the sliding glass door behind me. She took one breath and swore sharply.
"God damn her!"
She leaned up against the rail next to me and sighed mournfully.
"Well, I guess I should be happy it's just weed and not heroin... yet, anyway."
I cocked my eyebrow and looked at her sidelong.
"What are you? Joe Friday? Weed!"
She laughed, too. "Mary Jane!"
"Whacky Tobaccy," I said in a slow, southern drawl and we both broke into laughter that lasted a long time.
When the laughing had run its course, she sighed and took my hand.
"Walk with me," she said, leading me down the steps. We walked hand in hand along the shore, moving steadily away from the house.
We kept going until her house was just a vague, dark shape at the end of the beach. We stopped a few yards before the strand gave way to hills and grass and the shoreline curved back towards the more densely packed beach houses.
The moon was waxing, but it still wasn't very full. Starlight reflected off the mirrored surface of the lake and frolicked in the depths of her eyes.
"I want to do something," she said, biting her lower lip and glancing back anxiously at the house. I turned my head and looked around. Even if Casey were to wander out onto the deck, she still probably couldn't see anything clearly that far away in the dark.
"Take off your pants."
I didn't need to be told twice. In seconds my khakis, only one of two pairs I owned, lay in a wadded heap in the sand, along with my briefs.
Camille put her hands on my shoulders and gently eased me down onto the cool, gritty sand. I laid on my back, staring up at her with breathless anticipation. Billowing her long skirt like a tent, she stepped astride my bare legs, and let the fabric of the skirt cover my nakedness, the hem reaching all the way up to my chest as she squatted down over my cock.
"Just so you know," she informed me, grunting from the strain on her legs as she held her position, "I did not go through dinner bare-assed! I took them off before coming out on the deck!"
With that, she awkwardly began thrusting her uncovered pussy around; blindly trying to connect with my penis.
When the head of my dick brushed up against the moistened lips of her sex, I shuddered and had to suppress a sudden, premature eruption. It took a little more, entirely thrilling, fine tuning, but finally she was able to steer me inside of her, and with a last, heavy sigh, she dropped on top of me unceremoniously, our pubic bones banging together painfully.
She didn't lose herself in passion, as she always had before, but rather rode me with a look of fixed concentration on her features, sitting bolt upright, her whole frame trembling a little from the exertion. The only complaint I had was that the sand dug into my ass mercilessly.
After a few minutes of thrusting and groaning, she slowed her already leisurely pace and looked me directly in the eyes.
"Hold very still," she said, deadly serious.
She began lifting herself up off my cock, stopping halfway. She kept herself in that position, again, showing the obvious strain of doing so.
She smiled, a chilling, wicked smile.
The orgasm hit me, literally hit me, so fast and so hard that I lost all conscious awareness of everything around me for several minutes afterwards. It was as if she had, in one unbelievable maneuver, managed to envelop my cock, my balls, my thighs, my pubis - all of it - in the searing, wet juices of her womanhood. The hardest hit was the penis itself, experiencing a rush of heat and wetness unlike anything I'd ever felt in all my life.
I lay there on the beach, dizzy and gasping for air.
Camille chuckled to herself and lifted her body off of mine. As her skirt swept away, the dampness, which had so warmed and thrilled my entire lower region a minute previously, started to turn cold and clammy when exposed to the night air.
I suddenly realized just what she had done, and it sent a second chill racing through me. I began to squirm, my ass sloshing around in the soaked sand.
Camille leaned into my field of vision, cheeks flush, eyes bright and grinning from ear to ear.
"Still think people who get off on watersports are freaks?" | 4 |
7,523 | Hired Help | "'Why?' is never an easy question," he said.
"Try," Jennifer said as she slicked her sweat down the front of her rubber dress. Now there was a watery sheen over her breasts. That felt kind of interesting, she thought, as the movement had moved the rubber warts in her outfit against her nipples.
Richard took a long look at her shiny, slick red bosom. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning," he said.
"My father, Andrew, was very 'into' corsets, rubber, high heels and the like," he said. "So much so, that he married a woman who would cater to his every wish in that regard. He was fortunate to have the means to indulge his fantasies.
"I can remember her clearly," he said, "I must have been, maybe six. My parents thought that I was tucked away in bed. I heard something, and cracked the door open.
"I saw my father dressed in rubber from head to toe. And my mother wore a black rubber French maid's dress, with long black rubber stockings, long black rubber gloves, and stiletto heels. Her waist was so tiny... later I learned that it was very corsetted. I saw them both disappear into their room.
"My curiosity got the better of me. I snuck out and went to their door. They left their door open just a crack, and I was able to watch my parents having passionate sex while attired in their kinky outfits. My mother was tied to the bed while my father ravished her.
"My mother passed away two years later," he said. Richard's voice started to choke. "My father was heartbroken. He cried so much at her funeral... I had never seen him cry before."
"I'm sorry," Jennifer said.
Richard continued as if he did not hear her. "My father was never the same man after that. For almost two years, he went through the motions of life, with almost no joy or pleasure. It was during this time that I discovered my father's collection of pornography, and his stash of sex toys and kinky outfits. By the time that I was ten, I had tried out a dozen butt plugs, walked around in my mother's high heels, and masturbated to the sight of women in rubber and heels.
"Then," he said, "My father started to date again, if that was the correct term. He would bring women into the house. They would stay a few days to a month or two. I managed to catch a glimpse of them on occasion. They were dressed up like my mother used to. But... I never saw the same look of enjoyment on their face. Later, I learned that he used his money to attract them, and the girls dumped him when they had sponged off of him for long enough. There were exceptions, but few.
"I... had oral sex with my first woman when I was fourteen. This woman was one of the exceptions. Named Victoria, she was a dominatrix. I spied on them twice. The first time, she had my father kneeling down on the floor as she made him lick her boots. The second time, he was tied to the bed, blindfolded and gagged. A chastity belt was on him. That was the time that she found me.
"'What are you doing here?'" she had asked me out of earshot of my father. I stammered and stuttered. 'I don't do this for an audience, only for participants," she said. Victoria whipped out a pair of handcuffs and fastened my hands behind my back. As my father moaned in his bedroom, she led me to the sitting room. She sat down, spread her legs wide, and commanded me to lick her pussy." Oh, god! thought Jennifer. No wonder he's so far out in left field when it comes to sex!
"Victoria repeated that about a dozen times. Each time, she would come over and tie my father up. Then she would come for me and have me use my mouth to give her pleasure. She was a very good teacher, actually."
Jennifer remembered the time that he had performed oral sex on her. It certainly was the best that I'd ever had! she thought.
"I'm not sure why Victoria stopped coming over. My father's next girl was not a dominatrix. In fact, when I spied on them, she was always dressed up from head to toe in rubber or shiny vinyl, and tied to my father's bed.
"One day, when I was listening through the door, I heard the phone ring. After finishing, my father said 'I have to go for a couple of hours. I think you'll be able to manage for that long,' he said.
"I raced back to my room and waited for my father to leave. When I was sure that he was gone, I went back to my father's room and slowly snuck inside.
"The woman was there, in a full body suit that covered her from head to toe. Her eyes were hidden by the hood, and she was breathing through a tube in her helmet. High heels were locked onto her feet, and the only part of her flesh that was visible was her pussy. Her narrow waist was obviously due to a corset underneath the rubber.
"I'm not quite sure why, but I used Victoria's lesson first. With my tongue and lips, I had her squirming against her bonds. I heard her moaning through her breathing tube. Then, when I was done with that, I climbed up onto the bed and mounted her.
"I had sex with her three times. I was fortunate in that there was a window in the room that would let me see my father's car approaching. When I saw it coming, I pulled out and headed for my room.
"If my father ever found out about that, he never told me. And three years later, he died as well. There was a pileup on the highway... and my father did not survive."
Jennifer closed his briefcase and put it on the floor. She tossed his papers onto the top of the briefcase, and wormed over to him. She put her rubber-encased arms around him, and pulled him close. "That must be painful to remember," she said. He did not pull away from her.
Richard nodded, but did not elaborate. "I was left, just fifteen years old, with all of my father's money and possessions. It was very awkward for me. I had always had private tutors when my father was in charge of my education. My father had named my second cousin my legal guardian, and he was actually rather nice to me. He had his own sizable fortunes and was not interested in manipulating mine. He showed up when a legal guardian was needed, but didn't meddle in my life.
"I was not exactly the socialite. I spent my time designing bondage and fetish outfits, as well as handling the portfolio that my father left me."I learned how to do self-bondage in some very elaborate ways. When I was twenty-two, I had the idea to acquire partial or full ownership in a company that would cater to my particular tastes.
That company was Fantasy Supreme. The company headquarters and production facilities are just across town, actually. However, I was not and am not the sole owner of the company. The five men that were over on Friday are the other five stockholders. We each have about equal holdings in the company.
To tell you the truth, it is not the most profitable company that I own. But it seems to be consistent in its balance sheets from year to year. In fact, all parts of your maid's outfits and the rubber dress that you are wearing now came from Fantasy Supreme.
There was a long pause in his narration. "What about your wife?" she asked as she tried to adjust the plugs inside of her rubber-encased body. All she accomplished was to stimulate herself a bit more.
Richard took a very deep breath before answering. "I met my wife three years later at the company Christmas party of Fantasy Supreme. She was a new hire, and was rather amazed by all that she was seeing."
"Susana?" Jennifer asked. Richard nodded.
We talked for the longest time that night. We had our first date two days later. I slowly started to show her the things that turned me on. She was hesitant at first, but it didn't take her long to really get into it.
But... I guess that we were two people that saw what we wanted to see in the other person. That wasn't clear until we were married, about two years after we had first met.
I tried to let her find her innermost fantasies. I succeeded. Unfortunately, they did not mesh well with mine. I wanted all of the trappings of a life of fetish with a great deal of sex to boot. As she became more versed in the possibilities, she found herself adoring the lifestyle of a dominatrix.
She constantly wanted to be in charge, while I wanted more balance in our relationship. Also, her main pleasure was derived from keeping control of a man in all ways... which included long periods of enforced sexual abstinence. I... did not like that.
"How do you think that I liked it?" she asked.
Richard smiled. "It is one thing to have a chastity belt in anticipation of a reward at the end. It is quite another not to know when or even if your other half is going to relent.
Two years after that, we finalized our divorce. In the end, it was an amicable parting, I suppose. She had signed a pre-nuptial agreement that left her with a comfortable nest egg.
That was a year ago. I have dwelt alone here since then. I have been looking... for something to compare to that first year that Susana and I had together. The joy of exploration, the closeness, the trust...
This reminded Jennifer of the letter from the personal service to Richard. "So," she asked, with her red rubber arms still around him, "where do I fit in?"
Richard snorted with a twisted smile. "Originally, I just wanted someone to help out around the house and indulge a few of my voyeuristic fantasies. I never meant for it to become more than a business relationship."
Jennifer rolled her eyes. "What do you expect? You put my body on display, and expect me not to think of sex with the handsome man who happens to be my employer? Maybe there's some impropriety, but dammit, I don't care! I'm not staying here for the money anymore. I'm here because of you."
Richard stared at her. "Be careful what you say," he said. "I have some very definite and stringent requirements in a companion. Most women are rather put off by it, while the remainder seem more interested in my checkbook than in me."
"Why don't you give me a chance?" she asked. "I'm here, right now, and willing. No waiting."
"I... have been burned already. It is not that easy for me to believe... that there is someone interested in me for my own sake."
"You just don't understand," Jennifer said. "I've never had a person that really wanted me. My mother told me day after day how worthless I was. Every boyfriend that I had when in school and when I was out on my own just wanted a live blow-up doll to screw silly. Whenever I asked for just a little more, they were gone.
The way that you looked at me that night... with that hunger in your eyes. That hunger was for me, I'm sure. I've... never had anyone look at me like that. And... well, when you finally did get to business, you didn't leave me hanging. Every other boyfriend I had would get me that close... and be done with it. Half of them snored."
Richard thought about this for a long time. "I... am not sure. I want you to really know what you're getting into. Remember," he said, looking her in the eye, "you can leave at any time. Just say the word, and I will release you from your contract. You will of course be paid the higher wages."
Jennifer had not thought of the contract in quite a long time. By her estimation, she was probably due for three or four thousand dollars. "I'll remember that, but I don't think that I will be taking you up on it."
"I have to be sure... don't expect our relationship to change. I *have* to be sure."
She looked at him. "Can you at least drop the pretense of me being here to do the chores? You could hire a couple of people to do all of that much more efficiently than I could do it. Then you would have more time with me. Why don't you just admit that you like to see me dressed up for your pleasure, and that you really wouldn't mind throwing me to the floor and taking me right now? Come on! Why don't you do what you *really* want to do with me?"
"There are some practical difficulties with that," he said. "But..." A smile came across his face. "There is something that comes to mind..."
Chapter 12
There was a buzzing in her crotch and anus. Jennifer moaned and tossed her head. Sweat was again rolling down her body, slicking the front of her red rubber hobble dress.
She was seated in a leather chair. The back was low enough that her arms could both be behind her. This was necessary because they were now encased in an arm binder made of matching red latex. Her stiletto-heeled feet were tied to the legs of the chair, and the end of the armbinder was fastened to the back legs of the chair.
Richard had unlocked her outer dress long enough to run a wire from her chastity belt down and out the bottom of her skirt. Additionally, one of her hands in the armbinder was now clutching a button that she could press. The wire for this control was strung out the top of the armbinder.
Both wires ended in a metal box with an LED readout that she could clearly see. '00:49:57' was on the readout. Every second, the last number decreased by one.
This box fed power to her chastity belt through the wire that ran up her dress. And the button in her armbinder controlled the box... in a way.
Richard smiled at her as she writhed and moaned. They were in his den, and he was pretending to do serious work. But he spent most of his time watching the wriggling Jennifer in her torture device.
He had told her the rules. "You can turn off the vibrations at almost any time by pushing the button that you have," he had said. "And when the time runs out, your ordeal will be over. The button will stop the vibrations for ten minutes," he said. "But if you use it, *twenty* minutes will be added to the timer. And you will not be able to use the button to stop it for five minutes after the vibrations resume."
Jennifer gritted her teeth and labored against the rubber corset that constricted her waist. Dammit, on this one the dildo *and* the butt plug both vibrate! And these things against my nipples are just icing on the cake!
She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the clock. She was getting closer, closer...
A wave of pleasure shot out from her overstimulated genitals. She kicked out violently, but succeeded only in moving the chair a fraction of a millimeter. "God..." she said aloud.
The vibrations continued, and she found herself overwhelmed. "Aaaa!" she said as she pushed the button.
The vibrations stopped immediately. She opened her eyes, and saw the readout on the box. '00:43:21' it said. She let out a gasp when she saw it change to '01:03:21'. "Oh, god," she said aloud. "I'm losing ground."
She looked over at Richard, and he was grinning widely. "This device teaches endurance," he said.
"Don't you know what I'm going through?" she said. Sweat simply ran down his face.
Richard brought over a glass full of beverage with a straw in it. Jennifer drank greedily as he offered it to her. "Actually, there is a similar device for men that I've invented," he said. "I've tried it out on myself. Most interesting. Except that, with the male version, there is a sensor at the tip of the penis. Whenever there is an ejaculation, it has the same effect as you pushing the button."
"Has anyone ever told you that you are a pervert?" she said, between sips through the straw.
"Repeatedly," he replied. "But compliments will not get you out of this. Only a high tolerance for pleasure will get you anywhere."
She drained the glass dry. "I'm still thirsty," she said.
"I'll get you some more," he said.
He returned several minutes later with a refill of lemonade. Richard also carried a full pitcher of the stuff in with him.
"What if I can't run it down to zero?" she asked, just before she sucked greedily on this beverage.
"Then you will just have to do it again tomorrow," he said, "until you get it right."
With that statement, the current flowed into her belt again, and the torture of pleasure resumed.
She knew that she had used the button at least eight times.Richard kept the lemonade coming as she asked.
"00:01:07," she saw. An orgasm was ravaging through her body as her eyes were fixed on the readout. "Please," she said pathetically.
"00:00:44." She kicked violently against her restraints, but only succeeded in pulling on her ankles. She tried to spread her legs wide to reduce the pressure on the devices within her, but the rubber hobble skirt kept her legs tightly together.
"00:00:18." Another one shook her to her very core. She twisted violently in her chair, and Richard could see her bosom heaving against the rubber of the dress and the rubber corset underneath.
"00:00:00." Finally! She felt the vibrations within her cease. There was a wild, crazy smile on her face as she looked over to the seated form of Richard.
"Very good!" he said. A wave of a very different kind of pleasure went through her. Maybe I impressed him, she thought eagerly. He walked up and started to undo the restraints that kept her attached to the chair.
A few minutes later, the armbinder was gone, and the dress was unlocked. She stood up and allowed him to unzip her. She was surprised to see a puddle of sweat on the floor below her dress. Jennifer was surprised that he unlocked the chastity belt and started to untie the rubber corset.
The inside of the dress was drenched. And then there was the other layer underneath. "Go upstairs and get cleaned up," he said, after he had removed the corset. Perspiration was dripping from the inside of the corset to the floor. "I'm sure that you would appreciate a bath right now."
He was so right! Jennifer let the jets of hot water massage her body. She closed her eyes and felt relief spreading through her body.
Her eyes traveled around the bathroom. She idly rummaged through a pile of towels that was within reach.
She felt something underneath the pile. When her hand emerged, she was clutching a fetish and bondage magazine. There was a six-inch wooden ruler being used as a bookmark. "Wonder how this got there," she said. It was an old wooden one that had probably been there a long time.
Suddenly curious, she got out of the bathtub and went back to her bedroom. She found her black stiletto shoes and measured their heels.
"Five and a half," she said aloud. She then measured the red heels that had so recently imprisoned her feet. "Five and seven-eighths."
She put the ruler on her dresser and returned to the bathtub. She dried her hands and idly paged through the magazine.
Jennifer was drying herself off when she heard her bedroom door opening. "Yes?" she said.
Seconds later, Richard appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. She saw that he was wearing a long, full-length bathrobe that went all the way to the floor. "I took the liberty of ordering out for dinner. If you would care to join me?" he said.
"Certainly," she replied.
"It is a formal dinner," he said. "You will need to dress appropriately."
Jennifer rolled her eyes for the briefest of moments. "I take it you've already picked something out?" she said, putting the towel down. She was now fully naked, less than six feet away from him. But Richard was calm, and there was no burning desire in his eyes.
"Out here," he said as he walked over to her bed. She followed, and saw him holding up what looked to be a one-piece bodysuit made of shiny black rubber in one hand. Even the stiletto heels were built right into the outfit. In his other, he held up a black rubber corset.
It took him fifteen minutes to lace the corset onto her. When he was done, that familiar constriction around the waist was once again fighting against her every breath. "Sit on the bed, would you?"
Richard unzipped the back zipper and started to put her left leg into it. There was some sort of white powdery stuff on the inside, and her leg slipped in rather easily. Jennifer saw that the crotch on this outfit was open. She was half expecting some diabolical sex toy to be inside of it. No chastity belt... she could feel herself becoming hot, as she guessed what he might do to her... later.
Jennifer's left leg was now all the way in. Richard repeated the process for the right leg. "You'll need to stand up now," said Richard.
She did, and nearly fell over. Richard grabbed ahold of her by her corsetted waist and kept her from falling over. These heels are even higher yet, she thought. They *have* to be over six inches tall.
Now he guided her right arm into the sleeve of the outfit. To her surprise, she found that the sleeve was bonded to the outside of the outfit, running straight down her right side. The sleeve ended in a thumbless mitten. Next, he put her left arm into the matching sleeve. The last step was to zip the outfit up in the back all the way to her neck.
Jennifer turned around and looked at herself in the mirror. She was encased in skintight, shiny black, with stiletto heels over six inches high attached to each foot. The opening at her crotch revealed a vagina that was moist and ready. There was the narrow waist and very perky breasts. Her hard nipples were showing through the rubber fabric. And her arms looked to be glued to her sides. She tried to move them, but only saw the rubber twist some in response to her efforts.
Robert put one arm around her waist and guided her out of her room. I was just getting used to the other heels, Jennifer thought to herself. Then he changes the rules on me!
Soon they were in the dining room. A full dinner was laid out on the table, with a single candle lit in the center of the table. "Oh, how romantic," she said.
"Thank you." Richard guided her to a chair. Jennifer gingerly sat down. There was enough give in the rubber of her sleeves to allow her to sit comfortably.
Richard now took off his bathrobe. She saw that he was wearing the tight black rubber pants with the built-in sheath for his penis. Jennifer remembered what it was like the last time that she saw him wearing them... and she felt even wetter down at her crotch.
As he sat down, she asked a question. "It is going to be tough to eat while wearing this," she said.
"I don't understand," he said, with a hint of playfulness in his voice. He picked up her fork and put a bit of the salad on it. Carefully, he guided it over to her mouth. "I think that your mouth will work just fine, actually."
Jennifer took it into her mouth and ate it. "That's good," she said after finishing her mouthful.
A long dinner ensued, with Richard feeding her each and every bite of food and every sip of wine. He ate off of his own plate as well. Jennifer was sweating inside of her outfit, but did not mention it. The excitement of the situation was overriding it.
"What's for dessert?" she asked.
"Hmmm..." Richard said. "I must have neglected to order that. We'll have to improvise, won't we?" he said.
He pushed his chair back, but instead of standing up, he knelt down on the floor. Within seconds, he had crawled under the table and had found her dripping vagina with his mouth.
"Oh, god!" she exclaimed. She slid down in her chair and spread her legs wide to give him better access to her privates. He was methodical in his explorations of her. First, gentle nibbling with his lips. Then his tongue started to probe, first up near the top and only very slowly moving down toward her most sensitive parts.
"Please!" she said, rocking her hips back and forth. He was bringing her close... so close...
She panted against her corset as he backed off his stimulation ever so slightly. "Ooooohhhhh!" she moaned aloud.
Suddenly, his tongue attacked her clitoris with a vengeance. Within seconds, an orgasm wracked through her body. She clenched her legs together around his head, trying to get him to stop as she groaned in pleasure.
Richard apparently took that in good grace, and brought his probing tongue back home. He backed away, and when she next saw him, he was standing up by the table taking a sip of wine.
"I thought that our little training session this afternoon was supposed to increase your tolerance for pleasure," he said. "Apparently, it has its limits."
"That was *wonderful*" she said between pants. Jennifer looked at him, and saw that his black rubber-coated, half-hard penis was rapidly becoming fully erect. It stood at attention and pointed directly at her.
"Oh, my," she said, staring directly at it. When her gaze returned to his face, she saw that look of lust, that look of *intensity* returning to it.
"Am I in trouble?" she said in a girlish tone of voice. Richard did not reply, but bent down and picked her up. She kicked her stiletto-heeled feet in the air feebly as he carried her to his bedroom.
Richard put her on the bed, then reached down below the bed. He brought out a three-foot-long bar with a cuff on each end. With a quick efficiency, he fastened her legs to the spreader bar. When he was done, her legs were held apart at an angle that was a touch greater than 90 degrees. "Oh, god!" she said as she felt her groin muscle start to protest.
Moments later, he was on top of her, thrusting his hard and erect manhood into her wet and ready pussy.
Richard was relentless. If he ever ejaculated, she did not notice it. After her first orgasm, he gave her a few seconds of pause. Then, he was back on her, thrusting away.
"Oh, godohgodohgod!" she screamed against the tightness of the corset as the second orgasm swept through her. Richard stopped for an even briefer period of time before resuming again.
It was in the middle of her fifth orgasm that the tightness of the corset finally overwhelmed her, and she passed out.HIRED HELP
by Dark One
Chapters 11-12
-30- | 4 |
7,527 | Ornery | "Dubois here," Meg heard over the pay phone.
"It's me, Meg. I'm at the airport. You still working?"
"Yeah, shit, I didn't realize it was so late. We're installing the upgrade on the network this weekend so that we don't disrupt the faculty too much."
"If you're busy, I can take a cab."
"No, no, no, I'll be there. O.T. can finish up. We were almost done anyway. Let me finish a few things and I'll be over there," Meg could hear the smile in Tommy's voice, "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too. See you then."
Meg sat outside the small terminal and pulled a book from her bag. It would be difficult to guess when Tommy would arrive. She had read at least one chapter when Tommy pulled up in his Saturn. Meg considered the curiosity that Tommy was the first man she had dated for any length that could afford a new car. It was also the first new car Tommy could afford to buy. They were becoming adults, imagine that.
Meg rolled her bag to the curb while her big man unfolded himself out of the driver's seat. His gut was getting more pronounced, and she herself was feeling more than a little overfed after a week with family. They both needed exercise, and Meg knew what Tommy's solution would be.
"What are you grinning about?"
"Oh, nothing. Just imagining you trying to climb out of that old Civic you told me about."
"It was a good car! It served me well."
"Oh really? That must have been the first ten years."
Tommy shut the trunk after loading the suitcase. Meg placed a new soft-sided briefcase in the back seat and stepped into the passenger side.
"Is that what I think it is?" he asked.
"Yep, it's a laptop. Dad gave it to me. I had made a random comment about wanting one..."
"Geez... He just gave you a laptop?"
"Well, it's a 'belated graduation/help Meg get a real job' gift," Meg chuckled quietly. "I had really wanted a trip to Europe, but I had to start the postdoc right away... Anyway, that's just how Dad shows he cares, to not accept his gifts would be a slap in the face..."
"So how was dear old Dad, how does he feel about us living together? Did he give you a hard time?"
"He doesn't know, I mean about the relationship part. I've had male roommates before, so unless you told him... He didn't comment," Meg looked at Tommy as he drove. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Meg's postdoc position would last another nine months, and then she would have to find a faculty appointment somewhere. Whether Tommy would come with her was still uncertain, it was clear he was satisfied with the status quo. She hadn't told her father because she didn't have anything to tell. "Besides, I like to pick my battles. He was concerned about the job situation."
Tommy was silent for a moment, "So you haven't said anything about the vacation. Did you have fun?"
"Oh, I guess it was all right, if you like emotional minefields..."
"Surely you're exaggerating," Tommy's eyebrows furrowed as Meg watched him drive. It was rush hour in the college town, complicated by the presence of moving vans. The kids were back. Those in academia will tell you that college towns would be perfect, if it weren't for the students.
"Well, not that much. We just had to get used to each other again. If it had just been me and my dad, or me and my brother and his family... You put that many strong-willed people in one room and... and don't call me Shirley."
"Ha! I was wondering if you'd catch that. So what did you do?"
"Well, things ran a lot smoother when I kept my mouth shut and stayed in the kitchen."
Tommy laughed, "As it should be, woman!"
Meg didn't answer right away. "Yeah, I suppose."
"What's the matter? You sound depressed or something."
"I'm just tired, it's ragweed season back home, and I got a headache on the flight. I just need to rest."
They were sitting at a long light and Meg became lost in her thoughts. Visiting her family was a strain, walking on eggshells like that. The idea of a minefield wasn't far off. Like the lush, green countries of Southeast Asia, they appeared a peaceful family with no trace of the open hostilities of the past, but a careless word during a stressful moment could detonate the buried animosities. In the midst of this, Meg had felt the ground give way beneath her as she dropped into a forgotten cave. She had seen at her feet that once familiar subterranean pool of rage. Meg had gazed into its still depths, she knew the taste of it, pure, dark, and bitter. She felt shame, for mixing her metaphors, and for knowing the pool still existed, that forgiveness and understanding had not caused the pool to fade away, or at least diluted its potency. She wanted desperately to be free of it; Meg did not want such a terrible resource from which to draw the power to hurt others. She knew she would ultimately hurt herself and end up alone. Gratefully, the now latent anger felt as distant as a dream, Meg could not get close enough to see her reflection on the jet surface.
Tommy was watching her, "I missed you." He smiled down at her and squeezed her knee gently.
"I missed you, too." Meg tried to look relaxed as she smiled up at him.
"I'm going to have to call O.T. when we get home."
"I could have gotten a cab if you needed to work."
"No way! I plan on making you squeal tonight," he grinned. "What's your pleasure?"
"It's up to you. I've gotten out of the habit of making the decisions this week. You can make the call."
"Be careful what you wish for... With that kind of attitude, I might request something very special. Hehehehe..."
"Such as?"
"Such as... a little sub/dom?"
"Gee, I should have known."
"I should have known, SIR."
"Well, considering I've been practicing all week, now is as good a time as any." Meg blew her nose vigorously. "Damn allergies."
"Do you want to wait until you're feeling better?"
"Nah, you're lucky to get me while my resistance is down. Just let me take something for the headache and get cleaned up. That should give you enough time to think stuff up."
"My dear, I've been thinking stuff up since the seventh grade!"
They pulled up into the driveway, and Tommy carried in Meg's bags as they walked into the house. Meg walked up the stairs and grabbed her bathrobe before heading to the shower. She could hear Tommy talking with O.T., his assistant, while she pulled out the pain reliever from the medicine cabinet. Meg sat on the edge of the bathtub, unable to decide whether she wanted a shower or a bath. She ached from sitting in the cramped plane, but there was also the issue of time. Besides, she'd probably fall asleep in a bath. This night was going to be for Tommy, so she set the water to cool, and took off her robe. As Meg was stepping into the tub, she heard a quick rap on the door and turned to see Tommy's head poke in.
"Meg, guess who called, while I was talking to O.T.? Brian Lefevre... I invited him over... Remember how you once said you could imagine a threesome with him? This is going to be great!"
Meg looked stunned for a moment, trying to decide how to react. She wanted to know if Tommy had already told Brian about their speculations, how long he had known, how he had reacted. Meg paused.
"As you wish, Master." Meg lowered her eyes and held still, making no attempt to cover herself as Tommy stared at her.
Meg couldn't see the slow, wide grin appear on Tommy's face, but she could hear it in his voice. "Oh, this is going to be good." The man continued to look at the naked woman in front of him. Meg did not move.
"Sir?"
"Huh? Oh yeah. Yes, Margaret?"
"May I be allowed to finish my shower, Sir?"
"Oh, of course. Please continue, Margaret."
"And, Sir?"
"Yes, Margaret?"
"Does Master have any special requests as to what his humble slave shall wear?"
Tommy paused. "I know, that thing we bought last month. And those shoes you have... uh... you know the ones... Damn, I wish I had a leash!"
Meg's eyes flickered for a moment before she said, "If it pleases you, Master, I do have a velvet choker that may give the impression of a collar."
"Oh, it pleases me very much... but I'll let you get ready."
Meg stepped into the shower in a lighter mood. She was a performer at heart, especially when costumes were involved. Whether or not the actress was ready for this little improvisation, they all would have to wait and see. Meg was hardly submissive ordinarily, but she was a trouper and knew when to back off for the sake of the ensemble. But how far would Tommy take this? Meg felt a tug in her gut and told herself to treat it like a game, that if it didn't work out, so what?One night, give him what he wants.
Refreshed, Meg stepped out of the shower and toweled off quickly before scurrying into the bedroom. She brushed out her hair and saw that the summer sun had brought out the red highlights in her otherwise mousy locks. Meg had let it grow, and the months-old, but expensive perm gave her a relaxed cascade of warm, soft, wavy hair. Sometimes you get lucky.
Meg dug into her lingerie drawer and pulled out the 'thing.' At first, it looked like a baby-doll nightie, with sheer black fabric swinging below the bra portion. But the cups were merely crescent moons, stiff with padding and underwire. It would support Meg's ample breasts while exposing all of the nipple and most of the pale, round flesh. Meg liked the jet beading that dangled from the not-even-demi cups, giving a Victorian look. Meg had hoped that they could have found one whose skirt was more opaque, to obscure her 30+ year old hips and belly, but hey, you do the best with what you've got.
Meg slipped on the matching thong and searched for the velvet choker. She then pulled out a clutch purse with a removable chain strap. Slipping the choker through a wide ring at the end of the chain, Meg was now leashed. Since the velvet strip was held closed with velcro, it was a collar in appearance only. Any real resistance on her part would destroy the illusion. Small comfort once Brian showed up, since Tommy and he were both over a foot taller than Meg.
The woman's hand trembled a little as she applied her makeup. After a few dabs of perfume, Meg stepped into the high black suede pumps. She turned to examine the saucy slave in the mirror, so different from the bespectacled scientist Meg knew herself to be. It was funny how the color black worked for her, it set off her ivory skin. She never looked sickly, even in her artsy malcontent days. Meg decided she had stalled enough. She opened the door to the upstairs hallway.
"Are you almost done up there?"
Meg took a deep breath. "I am ready for you, Sir."
"Lord, I do like the way you say that. Come on, let me have a look."
As Meg walked to the head of the stairs, the light from the living room below caught her. Tommy was looking up at her as he blinked in disbelief. Meg could just see the camera in Tommy's head panning up from the stilettos to the thong, pausing to zoom in her now stiff, exposed nipples and then to the collar. Tommy's smile told it all, he approved.
"My, but you are a saucy wench, Margaret."
Meg quickly dropped her eyes at the sound of her full name.
"Thank you, Master."
Meg stepped down the stairs slowly, unsure of her footing as the trembling returned. At the foot of the stairs, Tommy waited silently. Meg handed him the free end of the chain.
"My leash, Master."
"Ah yes, Margaret. Come over here, Margaret. Let me look at you."
"Yes, Master."
Tommy led Meg to the sofa facing the television. Anticipating, Meg picked up a pillow.
"Margaret, did I tell you to pick up a pillow?"
Meg's eyes flickered, but she kept them lowered. "No, Master."
"Why do you want the pillow, Margaret?"
"To kneel on, Master."
"Did I tell you would be kneeling?"
"No, Master."
"And do you trust your master so little to assume that I would not think of your comfort?"
"I trust you, Master."
"Then give me the pillow, Margaret."
Tommy took the pillow and tossed it on the floor, "Bend over, Margaret."
Meg felt her face flush with anger as she bent over.
"You understand I'm doing this for your own good, you need to understand the rules," Tommy reached out to caress Meg's exposed ass. Meg felt a jolt of pleasure from the touch of skin on skin. She felt his hand leave and then a quick rush of air before the sting of a slap. Meg hadn't been aware she was holding her breath until she cried out.
"It's really for your own good," Tommy said.
"Th-thank you, Master," Meg's body shook as she felt her control of the situation slip away. She tried to remind herself that she could stop this at any time. Meg took a few deep breaths to calm down. Tommy sat down on the sofa.
"Margaret, now you may take the pillow and kneel before me. I'd like to look at you for a while."
"Yes, Master," Meg replied. She stooped over to pick up the pillow, and her breasts dangled beneath her. Meg placed the pillow on the carpet in front of Tommy and began to kneel down. She stopped.
"Master?"
"Yes, Margaret?"
"May I take off my shoes, Sir? The heels will dig into my thighs."
"Yes, Margaret, go ahead. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Meg felt the heat rush to her face, but said nothing but a soft "No, sir." That boy better be enjoying this and be damn grateful, she thought. Meg stepped out of her shoes and kneeled on the pillow, she tried to will the muscles in her neck and shoulders to relax. Meg could feel the weight of the chain pull on the velvet choker. She kept her eyes focused on Tommy's shoes and her hands in her lap. Tommy moved his feet apart and Meg heard him unzip his pants. Meg tried in vain to look through her lashes at Tommy's lap.
"Do you want to watch me stroke my cock, Margaret?"
"I only want to do what pleases my master."
"You look so sexy like that, Meg. You've got me so hot right now."
"It pleases me to know I arouse you, Master." It was true, Meg could hear Tommy's voice thicken with excitement and his breathing become shallow and raspy. Therein lied her power, and Meg felt herself relax. She didn't have to see him stroke himself, Meg could picture it in her head. She felt her pussy tighten in response. Meg waited for the next command.
The doorbell rang.
"Stay, Meg!" Tommy stuck his hand out as if Meg were a pet. "It's Brian, oh fuck, I wish he had waited about five minutes and then he would have seen a beautiful sight... Not that you don't look fabulous right now, Margaret." Tommy tucked his erection into his pants and zipped up, hopping to the door.
Meg brought her hand up to adjust the bra and thought better of it, men had this thing about disheveled women, and Tommy would take another whack at her for moving. Meg had no intention of being 'disciplined' in front of Brian. Oh god, Brian, Meg thought. She just decided not to think about it, what ever will be, will be.
Meg would have killed to see the expression on Brian's face as he walked into the room. Actually, she could only see that his long legs stop just short of the hallway.
"Uh... Is this some kind of a joke?" Meg heard him say.
Meg risked it, she had to see. She slowly raised her head, keeping her lids low... really going for effect. Her heart stopped a moment as she gazed fully into the handsome man's face. Oh god, Brian was beautiful.
"Good Evening, Master Brian."
Meg felt herself ooze between her legs as Brian seemed to drink her in. Brian was currently single because yet another beautiful, charming, intelligent woman got tired of waiting for him to commit. Brian was young, it was understandable. Once Tommy introduced Meg to his friends, they always talked and flirted. Brian made girls feel like they were the only woman in the world, let alone the room. Brian cracked a grin, and Meg was released from his spell. Tommy didn't comment on her impertinence as Meg lowered her gaze.
"All right, where's the video camera, you guys can't be serious!"
"Video camera! I knew I forgetting something! Shit, too late now really..."
Brian slowly walked around the couch to take a closer look at Meg.
"Can I touch her?"
Meg laughed in spite of herself, this getting a little silly now. However, she could feel her legs begin to cramp. She tried to work them out somehow without moving.
"I think she's getting stiff, maybe we should let her walk around or something," Brian said.
Meg flinched a little again, chafing at being spoken of in the third person or more correctly, third pet. She kept quiet.
"Okay, Margaret, you can stand up. Turn around so Brian can get a good look at you."
"Yes, Master."
Brian looked from head to toe as Meg displayed herself to him, still keeping her eyes lowered. The young man's erection was evident.
"I'm serious, can I touch her?"
"Sure, but right now I need her lips around my cock. Have I told you that Meg gives incredible blow jobs?"
"No shit?"
"Margaret, bring your pillow close to the sofa. Are you ready to please your master?"
"Yes, Sir." Meg really did like the feel of a cock in her mouth. She was good at it and was proud of that. Meg bent over to give Brian a clear view of her ass as she moved the pillow forward. She smiled when she heard a guttural "Oh!" behind her. Meg knelt between Tommy's now bare legs. He had scooted himself to the edge of the sofa, giving her easy access to him. Meg reached one arm around his thigh and hip for support as she bent over. Her behind stuck out like an invitation.
Meg began. She lightly grasped the shaft to hold Tommy's cock steady as she ran the tip of her tongue lightly over the cockhead, licking up the precum. Meg ran her tongue in circles at the crown where the head met the shaft. Tommy's cock throbbed in her hand and Meg took the cockhead into her mouth and sucked it lightly as she rubbed her tongue against it inside her mouth. Meg took another chance and smiled up at Tommy, she was in familiar territory.
"Oh god, baby, take it all now. I can't hold out much longer!"
As Meg tilted her head, she could see Brian standing over her, watching her suck Tommy. Meg heard the insistent soft slap-slap as he stroked himself. Meg tilted her head and relaxed her throat as she sucked Tommy's cock deep into her mouth. She kept her tongue rubbing against the shaft as Tommy began thrusting, Meg felt the head pop back into her throat. Now she had to stay focused, to remember to breathe carefully... Meg just heard Brian's slap-slap...
"I want to fuck her, Tommy. I'm going to take that wet pussy of hers hard," Brian was breathing heavy.
"Not yet, Bri..."Oh god, baby... shit... She might... might tense up... oh fuck!"
Meg felt the bitter taste swirl a little up to the back of her mouth, but for the most part, Tommy came deep in her throat. He shuddered beneath her. Meg continued sucking on Tommy's familiar cock until his hand came to rest on her head. She pulled herself up, and Meg smiled up at Tommy.
"Does that please my Master?"
"Oh yeah... let me catch my breath... Bri, what's your pleasure?"
"Brace yourself, woman. I'm coming in."
Brian grabbed Meg's hips roughly, and she felt his cock press between her lips. She was pretty slick, and Meg reached between her legs to guide him in. Brian was not quite as thick as Tommy, and Meg gripped his cock with the walls of her pussy to compensate.
"Oh god, you're loving this, aren't you, Meg? This is what you *really* want, isn't it?"
Brian fucked her fast and hard as Meg braced herself against the sofa. She was still positioned between Tommy's legs, and she looked up at him. He smiled at her and brushed the hair from her face. Meg was so focused on squeezing Brian's cock that her orgasm startled her. Her hands slipped, and her legs trembled. Brian pulled her up, and Meg bounced like a ragdoll until the young man came into her shuddering cunt. Meg came to rest kneeling with one arm on Tommy's thigh, and Brian slumped over her.
"Shit, Tommy, she's like a fucking milking machine or something!"
"That's my Meg!"
Meg felt spent. On other nights, she could outlast Tommy, although she wouldn't speculate about the well-conditioned Brian. Meg let her head and arms drop to the floor. She stayed there, feeling the sweat cool and her throbbing heartbeat slow.
"Meg, get up," Brian commanded.
She stayed put.
"Bri, leave her alone, she's tired."
"She hasn't wrapped those hot lips around my cock yet. Meg's loving this, can't you see that?"
"Okay, okay, Bri... if you want it that badly," Meg started pulling herself up onto her shaky legs, wetness dripping down.
Tommy stood up, "Meg, sit down! Meg is done when I say she's done, Bri!"
Meg's voice sounded deep and angry, "Meg is done when *I* say she's done!" The men were stunned into silence. Meg glared at them and then exhaustion took over, she sunk down into the sofa with a grunt. "Unhhh... and I'm done."
Brian had the look of angry embarrassment, "Yeah, well, sorry... I guess I'd better go... and .. um..." His expression softened, "You were great Meg, really."
"Thanks, Bri, maybe I can suck your cock another time, eh?"
Brian laughed a little, "Yeah, maybe. Good night you guys."
Meg had already begun drifting off to sleep when Tommy lifted her off the sofa. She could hear him grunt as he carried her up the stairs.
"You don't have to do this... I can walk."
"It's okay, I'm sorry about Brian."
"I'm sorry that I didn't let you 'defend' me, I guess I don't do submissive well."
Tommy gave a soft chuckle, "Heh, you were fighting it every minute... except when you ate my cock like an ice cream cone."
"Does it bother you? That I'm not submissive and I get angry like that?"
Tommy had laid Meg in bed, and as she unhooked her garment, he slid into bed beside her.
"No! I'm amazed you went as far as you did tonight. Thanks a lot, Meg, for trusting me. Now go to sleep."
"Yes, Master." | 4 |
7,534 | HypnoWho | "Jenny, can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Good. It's Daddy talking to you. You trust me implicitly. Do you understand? You'll listen to every word I say and you'll trust me in everything I tell you."
"Yes," Jenny answered from deep in her hypnosis-induced slumber. Thornton had a sudden twinge of guilt about what he was going to do, but it was quickly swept away.
"Jenny, you know that the lesbian lifestyle is not looked upon favorably by most of the people you know. And you have some reservations about not being accepted by your friends and family once they find out. This is true?"
"Yes."
"Jenny, you only have one hope of not being an outcast. I am that hope... you trust me and love me, and you know that I love you. I am the man that you have been searching for all your life. Jenny, you must answer me truly now. Have you ever thought about making love with me?"
"Yes... I was young," Jenny answered, adding on the last to signify that her subconscious mind knew such a thing was wrong. Thornton knew that most all girls had sexual thoughts for their fathers during the awakening sexuality stages, and he used that past thought and expanded it.
"Jenny, I know you know that ordinarily such a thing would not be possible. But you now see it as the only way to not become an outcast. You will make love with me as a way to reaffirm your heterosexuality. Every time we make love, it will alleviate your anxieties, and you will feel good about yourself. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"I am the most desirable man you've ever met. You've already experienced taboo love with another woman, so it will be easy for you to set aside your inhibitions with me. You will desire my touch, you will give yourself fully to me, and trust that what we do is good and right. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"When you awaken, you will make your desires for me known. You will not fear rejection; you know that I want you as much as you want me. You know that together we can have a full, erotic relationship, and neither of us will have any regrets." Thornton's dick was growing into a full-blown erection as he thought about Jenny confessing her implanted desires for him in just a few minutes.
"Now, Jenny, I'm going to say a word to you. I want you to remember this word. When I say it to you in the future, you will again relax and go into this deep sleep, without fear. The word is Bougainvillea. Repeat that for me please."
"Bougainvillea."
"Very good. You will awaken when I count three, feeling refreshed and confident in the relationship you are going to start with me, but not remembering that I have spoken to you. One, two, three..."
Jenny's eyes fluttered open, and she again saw her father beside her. His face looked so caring. She realized that he was everything she had ever wanted in a man. If she could be with him, everything would work out. She somehow knew that he wanted her, too.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, baby, what is it?" Her father reached a hand out to stroke the side of her face.
"Daddy, I've got these feelings for you. I know they are wrong, but I can't help it. I think you've got the same feelings for me. I've seen the way you've been staring at me." She covered his hand with her own and turned his palm to her mouth and kissed it. Looking back into his eyes, she continued, "Daddy, I don't want to spend my life without a man. I want to have children... I just feel that if I'm not with you, I'll lose all that. Please show me how good it can be. I need you. I want you. Tell me you want me too."
"Jenny, you know I do. I'll help you, baby."
Her father leaned over her and brought his mouth down on hers. Jenny kissed him back tentatively at first, but then with more passion as she let her hang-ups go. She knew this was right. She felt his strong hand moving over her breasts now, teasing her small nipples awake. Knowing that he would soon be inside her, loving her like any other woman, made her juices begin to flow.Jenny brought her mouth down onto his lips and kissed him as she hunched further up his body and reached between them. Her fingers wrapped around his swollen member and raised it up to her ready notch. As the fat head slid into her pussyhole, she whimpered into her father's mouth. She slowly pushed backward and his shaft began to disappear between her wide-stretched labia.
"Oh, Daddy! Oh, it's filling me up!" Jenny gasped as she brought her mouth off his. She could feel his hands pulling her asscheeks apart as she impaled herself further on him. His lips were on her neck and travelling down the tops of her tits. She raised herself back up on her arms and pushed back hard, packing her pussy full with all the hard dick she could accommodate.
Immediately, her cunt exploded in a toe-curling orgasm. Jenny tilted her head back and sobbed as she ground her hips up and down like a stripper looking for a tip.
Thornton felt his daughter's cunt grip down on his prick hard and then begin milking it as her cuntal muscles rippled in release.
"Oh, that's it, Jenny! Let it go! I can feel you cumming! Oh, that's a good girl! Yeah, work it out, there's more where that came from."
Jenny's panting began to lessen until finally she was back down from the pinnacle and once again conscious of her position over her handsome father with her very juicy cunt stuffed with his cock.
Thornton reached up and pulled her head down and kissed her lovingly as he flexed his prick in her relaxing hole. Their eyes met and he knew she was ready for more.
"It's never been like this," Jenny sighed as she began moving on his cock, slowly relinquishing three inches or so before reclaiming it again up into her sex.
"We're just beginning, baby. I promise I'm going to make you forget all about Amanda this summer." He gave her a short hard thrust and she squealed in appreciation.Lisa walked quickly down the hall to her room.
'I can't believe I did that,' Lisa thought as she replayed how she chickened out on telling Jenny that she was beautiful and desirable and sexy and if she ever thought about experimenting, just to see what it would be like, I've thought about you that way, etc. She planned it all out, moving the towel. But she'd lost her nerve.
'What did you expect her to say? Yes, I have thought about sex with you, Lisa. In fact, let's get naked right now and roll around on the floor!...Well, at least Jenny hadn't caught on,' Lisa rationalized, as she changed for dinner.
Later, after dinner, Thornton was leaning against the kitchen counter talking with Stevie as she finished loading the dishwasher with the few plates from dinner. Closing the washer door, Stevie moved in front of him to grab her wine glass from the counter and her husband swept her into his arms.
"Have I told you how sexy you are, lately?" Alec said as his hands swept down to grab her ass through her dress slacks. He felt suddenly guilty for not giving Stephana enough attention.
"Hmmm, I think you told me that several times on Friday night," Stevie said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and let her long body lean against him.
"Our guest really got you going," Thornton said as he nibbled her ear and remembered how flushed and primal Stevie had become during that night's three-way with Jasmine. Stevie leaned her head back and looked at Alec.
"It was the best. Tell me you're planning on bringing her back for more."
"Maybe," Thornton teased as he handed Stevie her wine glass and refilled it from the nearby open bottle before continuing, "but maybe you'd like to try someone else." Thornton didn't have anyone in mind but he wanted to see what her reaction would be.
"OH!" Stevie laughed. "It's that easy, is it? Well, let me put my order in." She giggled as she sipped her wine.
"You'd be surprised how easy it is. So go on. What kind of woman should I bring home for us next time?"
"Oh, let's see.........I think I'd like a really hot blonde. Have you got a catalog?" Stevie giggled again as she ground her hips against his.
Thornton knew that although Stevie was joking, it was probably a window to her deep desires. Maybe she'd had a thing for one of her friends or maybe she'd been thinking about someone since Friday night. So now all he needed was a sexy blonde, preferably with experience pleasuring other women.
Just then, Jenny walked in carrying a plate with some leftovers for her cat which followed closely at her heels. The sight of her triggered some of the lewdest thoughts he'd ever had.
Jenny going down on Stevie while his wife sucked his cock....Stevie and Jenny in a hot 69 while he jacked off over them.....his wife sitting on Jenny's tongue, facing him, holding his daughter's ankles, pulling her lovely legs wide and watching as he filled Jenny's pussy with........
Stevie moved away from him as she heard Jenny's footsteps and it snapped Thornton back to reality. But just as quickly, he realized his reality was what he made it.
'Who am I kidding? That is where all this is heading. No more putting people under every time he wanted to have sex with someone else in the house,' he thought.
Jenny turned to get up from where she'd placed the plate on the floor and saw them. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you guys were in here." She swept her blonde hair back over one ear and gave them a knowing smile.
She left the way she had come in.
"You OK, honey?" Stephana asked Alec. A strange look had come over his face; he looked like he was a million miles away. | 4 |
7,558 | My Inheritance | "I have a message from Bert. Andy is to hear it with you," Mary said quietly in the unique voice of a trance, as she knelt in front of me. Andy sat down by me, but Lisa, who had never been present when a trance message was given, started to leave. I pulled her down by me, telling her to stay with us because she was very much a part of this family. She hugged me gratefully as she curled up against me.
In a moment, Mary began.
"Hello, son. It is me again. I knew you would get this message one day, but I had no idea of the timing. The only way it could be accessed is if either Mary or Andy or both were pregnant. You lucky guy! Remember what I said about telling my grandchildren about me.
Davy, Mary has a secret, a secret only she and I knew. Because it made her very distraught, I programmed her not to remember it. When I began making plans to give her to you, I decided to reveal the secret. You will have to handle it, but it is better handled than left buried. Sorry. It is not something I could correct in my lifetime.
Approximately ten seconds after this message is over, Mary will remember everything. Be prepared, Davy.
Kiss the kittens on their sweet little pussies for me, son. I love all of you very much. Goodbye again."
Mary was quiet and still as I counted off the seconds. None of us moved for what seemed an eternity. Her eyes opened, but they did not see us. She burst into tears as her hands flew to her face.
"Oh, my God! My baby! My baby!" she screamed.
Repeating "my baby, my baby," she sobbed and rocked back and forth, arms around her middle, tears flowing in rivers. She was hysterical.
It frightened me. It frightened all of us. I had never seen Mary like this, out of control, her agony so severe it wrenched out her heart with every breath she took. When she realized Andy was beside her, she wrapped her arms around her tightly, digging her nails in. Andy was gasping for breath she was being held so tightly, her own face showing her fear and distress at her mother's desolation.
"Oh, God! My baby, my baby!"
She ignored any attempt to placate her. Immediately, I thought of programming her to stop, but something told me to let her cry out whatever demon was in her. I had no idea it would be almost twenty minutes of gut wrenching sorrow before she began to calm down.
Have you ever seen a loved one with a devastating loss, an inconsolable sorrow? Remember how it hurts you to see them hurt so much? We were like that for Mary.
I thought her sorrow must be about Andy and the baby, my baby Andy was carrying. All sorts of horrible thoughts crossed my mind: diseases, genetic abnormalities, anything you could imagine being wrong.
Mary was spent, but her body was still wracked by sobs, when she finally released Andy and sat back, wobbling she was so exhausted. We all three had been crying with her. She was in such pain, seeing her was painful for us. Andy and Lisa had both been near hysteria themselves, but as Mary began to quieten, so did they.
"Why didn't you program me not to hurt?" she said accusingly, her eyes red and swollen as she stared at me.
"You needed to cry it out."
"Please, promise me you will program me to make the pain go away," she pleaded.
"If you want that, I will do it," I said, holding her for comfort. "But, what is it?"
"Could I have some tea, please?" was her response.
Resisting the urge to order her to tell me, I sent Lisa to make herbal tea. The tea helped soothe all of us, but I could stand it no longer.
"Is something wrong with Andy's baby? My baby?"
"Oh, no! It is nothing like that. Oh, God."
Sobbing, she pulled Andy back into her arms which made Andy and Lisa start crying again.
"Mary! Calm yourself and talk to us! Tell us what is wrong!"
She nodded and took a series of deep breaths. Then, she began.
"Andy, I told you your father was abusive. He was a cruel man, a very cruel man. When I became pregnant by him, he told me he was going to take you away from me and I would never see you again. He had abused me mentally and physically, so when he threatened me legally, I was very afraid of him."
"Mother, I would never let that happen."
"Honey, you were a fetus. You were not going to prevent anything. Oh, Andy, you do not know what it is like to be with a cruel man. It is absolute hell for a woman. You have only known Bert and Davy, both of whom are wonderful, dear, men. That is the reason Matt frightened me so much. He was cruel, like your father."
Mary sipped at her tea, still restoring herself to equanimity. The rest of us were speechless.
"Then, we found out something which changed everything. I was pregnant with twins. Twins, Andy. I made an agreement with your father when we determined both the babies were girls. I would keep the first born, name her Andrea and give her my surname. That is you. Andrea Mathews. He would take the second born and name her Angela. He would give her his surname. Anderson. Angela Anderson. She is your twin sister, borne eleven minutes after you."
The room was deathly quiet, our collective breathing the only sound. We all were in shock!
Andy had a twin sister, a sister none of us knew about until that moment. My mind was reeling.
"I don't understand," Andy said mechanically. "Do you mean that you gave birth to two babies and I am one of them?"
"Yes, honey. I gave birth to twins. You are one. Angela Anderson is the other."
"Go ahead! Finish the story," I said.
Andy looked at me with disbelief, not comprehending what she had heard.
"Part of our arrangement was neither of us would ever try to contact the other's child. He has kept that bargain and so have I. I never saw her. I do not know if she is an identical or a fraternal twin. I do not even know if she is alive."
Mary started to cry again and I held her to me.
"Oh, Davy, Bert saw how much I was hurting. He offered to find her and bring her to me. He said he would program Donald to be a eunuch missionary in deepest Africa so he could not harm us, but I was still afraid. I was so terrified I would not let Bert help me. So, he programmed me not to remember."
"Donald is my father?" Andy asked, still in shock over the news.
"Yes, Andy. Donald Anderson. He was from Chicago. All I know about his family is he had an older sister who was married to a lawyer. Her name was Patricia."
"You mean besides a father and sister, I have cousins?"
"You might. Oh, Andy, let's not get our hopes up! I could not stand another disappointment like that. We don't even know if Angela is alive. If she is alive, she might not want to see us."
Andy pounced on me with an intensity which equaled her mother's hysteria of minutes ago. She grabbed my shoulders and shook me as she spoke.
"Find her! Find her now, Davy! You must do it!"
"I will, sweetheart. I will."
"No. I mean now! Get up and do it now!"
"Andy. Settle down."
"Damn you! Now!" she screamed as she hit my chest with her fist.
While, as you know, I love Andy with all my heart and would do anything for her, I had enough female hysteria for the moment. Her hysteria was not helping address the problem, in any event.
"Kitten Andy. Programming adjustment. You will be calm about your sister. You will not worry about finding her, trusting me to handle the situation. Kitten Andy. Programming terminated."
Andy wobbled and fell against me, wrapping her arms around me for support. I held her until she pushed back to look up at me.
"It is wonderful you will handle this for us so I don't have to worry about it. Thank you, Davy. I know you will do what is right."
It was said sweetly and lovingly. There was not an ounce of tension or anxiety in her voice or body.She brought her lips to mine in a gentle kiss.
"Program me the same way, please, Davy," Mary said softly.
"Me, too," Lisa added.
One of the disadvantages of being the tom cat instead of the kitten is no one programmed me to relax while someone else worried about it. Once again, I silently thanked Uncle Bert for having Andy program me to think deeply, clearly, and calmly, which she did that first day I met her.
After programming Mary and Lisa, I took some deep breaths and concentrated on the problem. By dinner, my attorney in Denver had located a private investigator in Chicago. When I talked to him, I offered double his regular rate, and he started immediately.
Our whole world had changed.
Suddenly, there was a new woman in our lives. This would not be a kitten I could fuck and forget, not unless I reprogrammed Mary, Andy, and Lisa to forget what they had only just learned. While the idea of another Andy was tremendously appealing, another kitten in the household did change our relational equilibrium.
I lay awake in bed that night, Andy to my left, Mary to my right, with Lisa to her right. I felt Andy's hand steal across my chest.
"I can't sleep," she whispered.
"Me either. Let's get up."
As we tried to slip out of bed, Mary and Lisa announced they were still awake. Soon, all four of us were in the living room with a large bowl of popcorn between us, talking about what was happening.
The programming to be calm and let me worry about finding Angela, the natural sweet happiness of my kittens, the knowledge a detective was at work, and the passage of some time, had restored us all to the positive well-being we normally enjoyed.
Once again, we laughed together. By now you know, the laughter we shared is as important, or more important, than the sex we shared. Laughter is the music of love.
Of course, as always, Andy was an imp.
"You know, sweetheart. I am a twin. You have twin sisters. I could be carrying twins right now, and we would not know it yet," Andy said, stuffing popcorn in her mouth. "And, Mom gave birth to twins, so when she gets pregnant, they could be another set of twins. Then, if Angela gets pregnant by you, well. Think, Davy. Three sets of twins at one time. Lisa's baby would make seven, or eight, if she has twins. Eight newborns. What about that?"
Suddenly, I was horrified that all of them were unprotected and liable to get pregnant. I never thought about eight babies at once.
Andy laughed at my expression and patted my cheek with a soft hand greasy with popcorn butter.
"I wonder what she is like?" Mary said half to herself.
We all wondered that, and the conversation quickly became speculation about Angela.
Think about it!
Was Angela an identical twin? Or, a fraternal twin, looking no more like Andy than any sister born at a separate time? Was I going to find a new Andy or someone entirely different? Was she married or engaged or what? What would be the differences between Andy and Angie? What impact had living with her father had on her?
The happy mood of the evening was contagious. Soon, we all were giggling. And, when we giggle, we touch. Then, Andy started talking about her own pregnancy again. She bit off the end of the pickle she was eating and sat up, cupping her breasts in her hands and staring down at them.
"Mom, did your boobs grow when you had me? I mean, had us?"
"Yes. They were gigantic. You know, Andy, you have to dispose of all that milk regularly. One baby probably cannot take it all."
"Oh, I bet I know someone who will help with that," she said, leering at me. She leaned over to dangle a nipple in my face.
"Want to practice suckling my tits?" she asked, pushing her nipple against my mouth.
I wanted to, and I did. She moaned and pushed her breast harder against me.
"Mom? Is he doing it right?" Andy asked breathlessly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I am getting horny from this. Does that happen?"
"Not with all women. It did with me. I wanted to be fucked after most feedings."
"I thought maybe the way he was sucking might make me horny but not make my milk flow."
"There is a right way and a wrong way to do it. He would have to suckle my breast for me to be sure."
"Well, let him," Andy retorted.
Mary moved to let her breast dangle over my mouth. I suckled. Then, Lisa wanted to know what it felt like. So, we ended the evening with me suckling breasts, "just for practice" as Andy said. No, we really ended in the bedroom as we always did, but you guessed that, didn't you?
I wondered if there was a way to keep one or all of them in milk forever. I have heard mother's milk is very healthy.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Andy's D-cup breasts twice as big, with so much heavy and rich milk it oozed from her nipple. I fantasized her leaning over me, her huge breast dangling above my face, as I leisurely sucked. She was moaning in sexual need as her sweet, hot milk flowed into me. Ummm. Nice fantasy. I was looking forward to making it a reality.
It took a week for the PI report to come in. When he called about nine in the morning, I immediately called Mary at the store. She made me promise not to say anything to the others until she got home. When she arrived, the four of us sat at the kitchen table as I gave them the report.
"Donald Anderson died four years ago. He was married once. His wife died in childbirth leaving him a baby girl to raise ("Bastard," Mary muttered). Angela Anderson, his only child ('I am his child', Andy interrupted) lives with Patricia Anderson Caldwell, Donald's sister, and George Caldwell, her husband, in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. George Caldwell is an attorney. His wife, Angela's aunt, is Angela's legal guardian. Angela has just completed her freshman year at the University of Michigan. The Caldwells have two natural children, Elizabeth, who is nineteen, and George, Jr., twenty-one. Both are students at Michigan. No picture or description of Angela was given."
"What now, Davy?" Mary asked.
"I could not get a charter on such short notice, but I made reservations on a commercial flight. Go pack."
On the way to the plane, I adjusted their programming to allow them to enjoy the excitement of finding Angela, even if it meant they were harder to handle. Is that love, or stupidity, or what? Whatever it was, it was greatly appreciated by all three of them. I never lose when they are grateful. Believe me.
We flew first class, the four of us occupying the first row. After the seatbelt sign was extinguished, they huddled on one side, gossiping and giggling. The three of them chattered like birds all the way there. I tried to nap, but I could hear them. Does she look like me? Is her hair long? Is she sweet? Pregnant? Married? Smart? On and on, questions never ceasing. By now, they had thought of every possible question about her, but they liked to discuss them over and over.
The flight arrived at Wayne County Airport, which serves the greater Detroit area, about five. We rented a Cadillac and drove the interstate past downtown Detroit into The Pointes. The Caldwells lived in a lovely home near Lake St. Claire. It was six thirty when I rang their bell.
A tall, distinguished-looking man with graying hair answered. He was wearing a white shirt, tie, and suit pants, indicating he had not changed since he came home from the office. His eyes scanned us, stopping when he came to Andy.
"What is the matter, Angie? Forget your key?" he said.
All three of my kittens gasped at George's misidentification. His color paled. His eyes scanned us again, slower and harder this time, stopping a long time to study Mary. Then, he focused on Andy again.
"You are not Angie, are you?"
"No, sir. I am Andy, her twin sister. May I call you Uncle George?"
The man looked as shocked as we had been when we first heard the news. It seemed an hour, but, actually, he recovered fairly quickly, and a warm smile covered his face.
"Yes, Andy, you can. You better come in," he said as he opened the screen door for us.
He hugged each of the women as they entered, holding on to Andy a long time, which I presumed was an uncle's love and not because her delicious body was pressed hard against him. Excusing himself, he asked us to wait.
As we stood in the living room, the three kittens were holding hands, excited and anxious expressions on their faces. I told myself to be calm. In a moment, George returned with a tall, thin, and elegant woman whom he introduced as Patty, his wife. Without speaking, she stared open-mouthed at Andy. Tears forming in her eyes, she took Andy in her arms and hugged her.
For the next hour or so, we talked to George and Patty. It was clear they were two kind, decent people who loved Angela and had her best interests at heart. They were as surprised to find Angie had a sister and a mother as we were to find out about Angie.
"Don told us Angie's mother died giving birth," Patty said during the conversation. "Obviously, that is not true."
"No. It is not," Mary replied. She told them of the arrangement to separate the girls. And, she told Patty of her brother's cruelty. Patty looked very pained.
"I knew my brother had a mean streak, but I never guessed he would do something like this. Mary, I am so sorry."
Patty was being sincere. It seemed nature had played a mean trick on the Anderson children, giving Patty most of the good and Donald most of the bad. That happens sometimes.
Finally, Patty asked. "What do you want of Angela?"
"I want her to come live with me, with us, I mean," Mary replied. "I want my daughter."
"Let me ask a question, if I may?" George said, in his best lawyer's tone. His face turned a bit red. "I am not criticizing, you understand.You are lovely people, but your lifestyle. We are conservative sociologically, and I see...
None of us helped him out. We waited for him.
"I see three very sensual women," he said.
"George!" Patty interjected.
"They are, Patty. I see three very sensual women who live with one man. Those women have identical necklaces with kitten charms, and rings on their thumbs. We only want the best for Angie. I mean, could you tell us, well, how she would benefit from being with you?"
"Look at us! Don't we look unbelievably happy? Don't we look healthy and well-loved and cared for? Don't we appear to be a wonderful, tight-knit family?"
"You do, Lisa. By the way, exactly how do you fit in?"
"She is my sister," Andy said defiantly, holding Lisa's hand.
"Your child, Mary?"
"No. But she and Andy are just like sisters. Lisa will be a sister to Angie, too."
"And you?" George said, looking at me.
"I am not Andy's sister," I replied flippantly.
He gave me a dirty look.
"Look! We have a legal responsibility to Angie. And we love her as if she were our own."
How was I to answer the question? I could program them to not worry about Angie or to forget she even existed. I was ready to do just that, but an idea struck me. Guessing from George's age that he would remember the communes which were popular a while back, I gave him this answer.
"We are a commune, except we bathe and cut our hair," I said with a smile. I was not sure they were going to like that answer, but George grinned for a moment before continuing.
"I remember the communes. Free sex and all that. I do not think Angie would like that kind of arrangement."
"Oh, we don't have free sex. Davy is the only man who fucks us," Andy said with a bounce in her voice. Then, she blushed and squirmed in her seat.
"She probably will not want to go," George continued. "She is very happy here. She has made many friends. And, never forget, she will be very shocked, and quite possibly hurt, by the existence of a mother and a twin sister."
Andy's face fell. A tear rolled down her cheek as she pleaded with him.
"Please, Uncle George! Let me talk to her!"
I could see George relent a little. Andy gave him that sick puppy look and batted those big, blue eyes at him. All you men know that look. And, all you women use it whenever you think it will help.
"Uncle George, when can I meet my sister?" she said in a plaintive tone.
George lovingly stroked her head.
"They called this afternoon. Angie and my son and daughter are driving in from Mackinaw Island. They should be here in another hour or so."
"Can we wait?"
"Let us talk to her when she gets in. She needs some time with this, Andy. She will be horribly shocked. Why don't you come back for breakfast? Say, nine in the morning?"
George could not be persuaded to let us stay to meet Angie. I grudgingly admired how he maintained his resolve in the face of three pleading and very determined women who used every female trick to break him down. I finally had to order the three of them to leave, which they did with tears and grumbling. We drove down Jefferson Street and checked into the Westin Hotel in the Renaissance Center, taking a two-room suite with a king-sized bed. We ordered seafood salads with pie for dessert from room service.
The four of us talked for hours, letting our excitement run down in the process.
Our speculation on what Angela was like had been modified since we now knew she looked exactly like Andy. George had mistaken Andy for Angie when we first arrived. But the repetitive speculation continued.
"The important question," I said, "is whether she will want to go back to Colorado with us."
"How much formula do you have with you?" Andy asked.
"Enough for five people."
"If we have to program everyone in the family, she is coming home with us."
Andy's strident voice and determined jaw faded. She looked a little embarrassed as she crawled into my lap and pressed herself against me.
"Am I being too pushy?"
"No. You are not."
"You know how much I love you. You know I would walk away now and never mention her again if you wanted me to, even without you changing my programming."
"Yes, Andy. I know."
She smiled very lovingly at me. Her eyes were soft and wet. Then, she got that gleam in her eye, the one saying she had the winning hand and knows it.
"I know you love me, love the three of us, so much you will make sure she comes with us whether she wants to or not. And, I know you will not program us to forget her."
"Yes, Andy, my precious kitten. I love all of you that much."
She kissed me, softly at first, but with increasing ardor.
"If you love us that much, why don't you take us to bed and prove it."
To be continued... | 4 |
7,578 | "Dream A Little Dream" | "It was just a dream. Go back to sleep, ok?" I buried my head into the pillow, ignoring her babbling chatter about crazy nightmares.
"Carl, are you listening?" she asked.
I tried to fake being asleep, but she just nudged me even harder, jamming her cold fingers into my ribs, until I gave up any hope for sleep.
"It was so vivid!" she said. "It was like a huge vortex of colors, you know, like a TV in my head."
"What was?" I groaned as I tried to act interested.
"The dream."
"What was it about?" I asked.
"You were in it," she said.
"Okay, so what was it about?" I asked, getting tired of playing twenty questions.
"I can't really remember." She licked her lips and embraced me. "It was kinda sexual, though."
The mood was catchy and I found myself aroused. I felt the soft swell of her breasts against my bare chest. My face was buried in her long red hair, the smell of her consumed me and I fought the urge to ravage her.
"You wanna do it?" she asked.
"Uh, okay," I said. As usual, I was confused by her strange behavior. It was only hours earlier that she had fought off my attempts at romance, feigning a headache. Sometimes, I think I know her. Then, she throws me for a loop. I think women do that just to keep us men from truly understanding them. It's like a rule or something.
"Are you sleepy?" she asked as she stroked my chest gingerly with her fingertips and played with my chest hair. "I mean, I don't want to keep you 'up' or anything." She grasped my crotch in her loving hand.
"Not anymore."
"Are you hungry? We could have a midnight snack or something."
"Not really," I said, noticing that it was well past midnight already.
"Have you ever had a dream that was so intense that you...?" she asked.
"That I what?" I asked in total confusion. I was perplexed. Even when I was totally awake, she could perplex me like no other person could with her vague questions and silly conversations, but maybe that was why I loved her. Even after two years, she was still a mystery to me on some levels. I like mysteries, and I love being a good sleuth, especially a sexual sleuth. I like to find out what excites her, what tantalizes her, and most of all what she needs, desires, and wants from me in the bedroom. And, I don't think she has ever really complained.
"You know --" she said.
"Oh," I said, as I finally realized what she meant. "Yes, when I was younger I used to have wet dreams, why?"
"I think I had one," she said.
"How could you have had a wet dream?" I asked. Remember that I wasn't quite awake yet, so my brain was really slow to realize what she meant.
"Women can have an orgasm while they dream silly! We don't always need a man -- duh!" she said. "Actually, if it wasn't for the fact that you had that silly thing between your legs, we wouldn't need you at all."
She emphasized her words by cupping her own breasts, stroking the fabric of her negligee around her stiffened nipples that poked enticingly through the thin garment. I had never really witnessed a woman masturbating -- except maybe in a movie. I just sat there with my jaw gaping, my heart pounding and my loins straining the front of my boxers.
"Actually, I don't need you at all," she said.
This kinda shocked me a bit. Actually, I had never really thought about it before, but of course, she didn't need me -- men in general -- to have a "good time." It made complete sense, although, like any man I was self-centered, so I tended to think of myself as Mr. Orgasm Maker.
"You don't need me at all, eh?" I asked in disbelief.
"Nope." She grinned mischievously as she ran her hands, up and down, her thighs, parting her legs as she ran her slender fingers over her glistening mound, softly rubbing the soft curly hair above her coral nether lips.
"I see, well then I guess that I am replaceable?" I asked.
"Hmm, no you're not replaceable, but you aren't needed."
I watched in awe as her fingers found her clitoris and she circled it, rubbed the tiny nubbin, and groaned a sexy moan with passion. Her middle finger slid between the soft folds, and dipped into her. I watched as the finger disappeared like a tiny cock as it went in and out. I could see the excitement in her movements and her need to climax.
"Oh, I see," I said, pouting in a playful puppy dog manner that gets her every time.
"Aww, my poor baby," she giggled and playfully extended her shiny finger to my lips. I could smell her musky scent, strong and feminine, as I kissed her hand. I sucked upon her finger, nibbling gently.
She gave up on her masturbatory explorations and straddled me. She lifted her negligee off and presented me with two warm handfuls of soft, pillowy flesh. Each one was topped with a crinkled nipple of larger than average size. I suckled on one, while I cupped the other in my palm, kneading the dangling breast that jiggled and bounced with each movement.
"You know, I don't really need a man to do this," she said.
"Yes, but how about this," I said as I positioned my erect member at the entrance to her wetness.
"Mmm, I dunno, I think they make replicas of those, don't they?"
"Yes, but they don't have the same skills."
"Why don't you prove it?" she replied.
She engulfed the entire shaft within her wet slit, and proceeded to grind her hips in rhythm with my upward thrusting.
"Not bad," she said with a grin.
"Not bad? Not bad?" I asked.
We both started giggling, which caused the most exquisite sensations. Her breasts heaved with each breath, and a serious look came over her face. I had always loved the face she makes when she is just about to come. First her nose crinkles, and her eyes glaze over with pleasure, then she contorts her mouth into this pleasurable grimace.
I wasn't that far from the point of no return, myself.
"Oh god," she moaned.
I held her tight, bucking my hips up into her as we came simultaneously. We were one animal moving together as our bodies gyrated, up and down, in orgasmic frenzy.
"Now, what were you saying about not needing me?"
"Well, you have your uses, I guess," she said. "Could you get me a glass of water?" | 3 |
7,591 | The Interview | "Very good indeed," the woman repeated, "now let's test how good you are at switching roles. Are you up for one more test?"
Jennifer knew that even the question was part of the interviewee's test, and replied that she would be happy to 'take another call'.
"Jennifer, this is the operator. We have a gentleman on the line who has asked that you not have his name. Will you take the call?"
A challenge, Jennifer thought. "Yes," she answered.
Again, a moment's pause, as if the line was truly being switched. Jennifer lowered her voice a little, trying to make her greeting sound like a purr. "My name is Jennifer," she said to the silent receiver, racking her brain on what to say. "I'm here just for you. Anything you wish. What would you like, honey?"
Silence.
"Well, let me describe what I'm doing right now. I'm laying on my couch, completely naked, running my fingers over my body. My skin feels soft and smooth to my hands, and I like caressing myself."
"My breasts are so sensitive, and just touching them sends shocks of pleasure down my body. I'm licking my finger now, and rubbing it over my nipples. The wetness is making them peak, and they feel so incredibly good."
"Would you like me to bring myself to orgasm? For you? Just for you?""I'd love to masturbate for you," she purred. As she expected, she received no answer. Still silence. She continued on.
"Now I have one hand on my breast and I'm rubbing my clit with the other. It feels so good, but I want both my hands in my lower regions. I like to enter myself. First with one finger, then two...oh...yes, it feels so good. My other hand is on my clit... The rubbing feels so good..." She moaned, getting louder between words. "Oh, it feels so good... When I close my eyes, I can almost feel you inside of me... Pumping in and out... Like my fingers. You feel so good." Her breath was coming in gasps as she rubbed herself toward orgasm.
"...Oh...I can feel you inside of me...so deep...oh..." she screamed as she went over the edge of orgasm.
Silence. Then "you're hired," the woman on the end of the line broke in, "when can you start?"
Chapter 3:
Jennifer's First Call
The phone rang in the quiet apartment, and Jennifer sat up in bed and put her book on the night stand.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Jennifer?" a voice asked.
"Yes, this is she."
"Jennifer, this is the operator. I have a woman on the phone. Her name is Julie. She wants to speak to a lesbian or bisexual woman. Will you take the call?"
"Yes," Jennifer answered, "Put it through."
"Hello?" a timid female voice on the other end of the line.
"Hello Julie?" Jennifer said gently, "My name is Jennifer. I'd like to get to know you better. Can you tell me what you want?"
There was brief silence on the line. Jennifer sensed the hesitance came from embarrassment. This was confirmed by the tone of her voice when Julie finally started speaking. "I've never done this before," she almost whispered, "but I've always been interested in women and this seemed safe...." her voice trailed off.
Jennifer laughed softly. "I understand Julie... There was a time when I was like that too. But now I've been with a number of women, and it is wonderful."
"Oh, tell me," Julie nearly begged.
"When I am with a woman Julie, I like to start slowly. Feel their body against mine... feeling her skin, and its softness. Kissing a woman is wonderful, soft... different from kissing a man... indescribable. Then I move down and try to cover all the sensitive places on her body. Breathing softly in her ear, kissing and biting gently on her neck, down her collarline, and then to her breasts."
Jennifer could hear the breathing on the other line. Julie was breathing fast... encouraged, Jennifer continued. "A woman's breasts are so beautiful. I like to use my hands and mouth and kiss and suck on her nipples, biting softly and then harder, listening to her moan in pleasure." A moan came over the phone, from the other end of the line.
"Pretend it's you, Julie. My hands are on your breasts, and my mouth on your nipples. Now I'm moving downwards, kissing my way down your stomach, and just short of your clit. My tongue reaches out, just touching your clit lightly. I can feel you jump." Julie moaned on the line, and Jennifer could hear the faint sounds of her masturbating. "My tongue is moving around your clit. And then down further, pushing inside of you just a little, and then backing out again. And back to your clit, moving faster and faster... And I can taste your come. You taste so good. Oh Julie, you are so beautiful."
The sounds on the receiver told her that Julie was having an orgasm, and she corresponded her comments with the sounds of her orgasm. She waited, while Julie's panting breaths became more normal.
"Thank you Julie," Jennifer smiled in her voice "you truly are beautiful."
Chapter 4
Jennifer's Calls
"Put it through," Jennifer answered the operator.
*click*
"I am Mistress Jennifer," she began, assuming a firm, strong voice. "I believe you asked for permission to speak to me?"
"Yes, Mistress Jennifer." He sounded young, possibly in late 20's, early 30's. Older than her but young by her standards, however there was no need for him to know that.
"Well?" she demanded, "What is it that you want?"
"Please Mistress," he pleaded, "I wish only to serve you. To fulfill your desires. To worship you as my Mistress, if you will allow this worthless slave."
"And get something out of it for yourself in return," she stated shrewdly. 'Humiliation'-- she made a mental note to herself.
"Are you already hard?" she asked, still keeping her tone sharp and demanding.
"Yes, My Lady," he whispered, as if fearing yet craving her wrath.
"And were you given permission?" she asked, knowing full well it was a rhetorical question.
"No" his voice barely audible.
"No, Mistress!" she sharply corrected him.
"No, Mistress."
"Where are your hands?" she requested.
"One is holding the receiver, and the other is on my thigh, Mistress"
"Good." Be careful not to give him too much praise. She continued, "I want you to put one hand on your penis. Begin stroking it slowly. But you are NOT to cum. If you feel that you need to cum tell me, and I will decide when you will be given permission. Understand?"
"Yes....Mistress," he answered, a slight hesitation in his voice.
"Yes Slave?" she prompted, picking up on the hesitation immediately. "What is it?"
"I have ice next to me, My Lady," he volunteered.
"How handy," she purred. "Ok Slave, cradle the receiver between your shoulder and neck, so that both of your hands are free. With the one hand, continue stroking yourself. And with the other, I want you to press an ice cube to your balls. And hold it there until I say."
She heard his breathing becoming more ragged, and decided to persist with the ice he had offered.
"Now," she continued, "move the ice cube up to rub your nipples, first one, and then the other. SLOWLY. Then bring it back down to your balls, running all over them."
His gasping was audible now, and she could tell he was getting close to orgasm. "Mistress," he gasped out "Mistress please, might I be allowed to cum? I'm so close...."
"Not quite yet," she answered. "I want you to switch hands. Use the one that has been holding the ice to stroke yourself, and with the other pinch your nipples. HARD!"
He moaned into the phone, fighting for control.
"You may cum, slave." And with permission given, she heard an immediate groan over the phone line.
"Thank you, Mistress Jennifer," he gasped, still catching his breath.
She put down the receiver. | 5 |
7,602 | (Dimitri)"Celebrity Hypnotist Chapter 6" | "What type were they?" Bart interrupted once more.
"Geez!" I cried out, "You want to hear this story or not?" To tell the truth, I had been beginning to enjoy telling this story, and Heather Locklear had been a highlight of my career that I hadn't thought about in some time.
"Come on, man, it's the little things that are important. What kind of panties did she have?"
"Plain white, very sensible," I replied. Bart looked disappointed.
"They weren't like, frilly or something?"
"No," I said with a grin, "I'd remember anything like that."
"Damn... I mean, she was married to Tommy Lee and that fucker's into some heavy shit..."
- You don't know the half of it, - I thought. At this point, Tommy was still 'happily' married to Pamela Anderson, - If my information is right, he'll end up in jail before the year is out. -
"...and now she's married to Richie Sambora," he gave a little sigh, "Damn, figured she'd at least wear a thong."
"You're not going to go kill yourself over this, are you?" I joked to him, "Or would you like to hear the story first?"
He smiled at me, and my mind cried out in triumph. I was actually convincing the son of a bitch I was his friend.
"Sorry, buddy," he said, "Go ahead."
...she gripped her panties and slowly, casting what looked to be a sly, almost expectant look my way, she pulled the sopping material down over her hips and revealed to me a closely trimmed thatch of pussy hair.
"Very nice," I commented as she stepped free of the soaking wet material and stood before me, her beautiful, long white legs presented for my inspection, for my approval? They certainly passed muster.
As she began to lower herself down to the ground, getting ready to spread her legs and let me fuck her, I gave her yet another surprise.
"Not so fast," I said, "You did that so well you've whetted my appetite for more... let's see those tits of yours."
I saw her face turn red, but suspected that she was secretly pleased, that this was turning her on as much as it was turning me on.
Getting back to her feet, and flashing the pink pleasure of her inner pussylips as she did so, she slowly slid the gray jacket off and carelessly let it fall to the ground, where it lay in a crumpled pile. It was soon joined by the tie and then her shirt, which she unbuttoned slowly, letting me get only glimpses of the white material of her bra before sliding it down over her back and down to her elbows, then letting it drop.
Her breasts weren't as large as some of her co-stars on Melrose, but they were certainly more than a handful and looked pleasantly plump.
Reaching behind her back, she gripped the clasp of her bra and released it, unfettering her breasts and letting them free. There was a slight sag to them, but they still held up high on her chest, and they certainly appeared to be real.
"Like what you see?" she asked with a slight grin.
"Why Ms. Woodward," I remarked, "If I didn't know better I'd say you were enjoying this."
She smiled slyly, "Well Ro... Mr Delgado, I love sex, I always have... but usually I run things. However, I can handle being taken along for a ride, there's no reason I can't enjoy this."
"Why Amanda," I laughed, standing up and approaching her, my now slightly less hard cock bobbing up eagerly when it saw her naked body, "I must say you have the right attitude, you'll go far."
Sliding one hand around her neck and the other around her waist, I pulled her forward and kissed her. Her mouth opened, and before I had a chance to get my tongue into her, she was exploring my mouth, her tongue sliding over mine and against my cheeks.
- Well, well, Amanda wants to take control, - I thought, and pushed my own tongue past hers and into her mouth. As I did that, I slid the arm around her waist down over one of her beautiful, firm asscheeks and cupped it, giving it a good squeeze.
Breaking the kiss, I began to kiss down her neck, nuzzling her shoulder before kissing down the curve of her breasts and taking one of her erect nipples into my mouth. For a few seconds, I sucked on that magnificent mammary, then I broke away and stood up, facing her.
Her body was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, and she was breathing heavily. Her arms were at her sides, but were twitching about; she wanted to slide her hand between her legs, but was obviously scared to show any sign of weakness. "Happy to be taken for a ride my ass!" I thought, well, she was going to be whether she wanted to be in the driver's seat or not.
I came forward quickly and grabbed her by the waist, pushing her back until she came up against the wall - not hard, I'm not an animal, unlike that freak Gary Cole (*) I didn't get off on hurting women - my arms slid down and gripped the inside of her thighs, then lifted them up until she was almost doing the splits. My cock was pressed up against her belly for a few seconds as I got my balance, then I slid my hips back, then pushed them against her hot, wet and steaming pussy.
She let out a cry that was half pleasure, half anger at not being the one in charge, then gave in to the sensations and just enjoyed the fuck.
I was extremely relieved to feel that her pussy was not only not loose, but actually extremely tight. I found myself wondering if maybe she'd had one of those operations where women got their boxes tightened up (like that chick in The Godfather, the one who'd only been able to fuck guys with monster dicks, like Sonny Corleone), I didn't see any other way that she could possibly have a cunt this tight... still, I was definitely not complaining.
After the initial penetration, I just let myself digest and sort out all the sensations and emotions running through my body for a second, then began to slowly pull my cock back out of her tightly clasping pussy. I got to the point where it seemed I would pull free of her beautiful cuntlips, then I plunged back in, letting out a moan of pleasure as I felt her magnificent cuntlips giving way before my shaft. I began to slide my cock in and out of her tight, gushing pussy even faster, pumping at the star with all my might, letting her have it. Each thrust pushed her back against the wall, and her face was contorted in pleasure and desire, her blond hair hanging over her face, her eyes closed as she let out moans and grunts of desire as I fucked her harder and harder, faster and faster.
"Yes!" she squealed, "Huh! Uh! Yes! Give it to me! Yes!" she squealed, giving in and letting me take control, her body bounced loosely as I fucked her, my cock slamming to the hilt deep inside of her cunt. Her tits were bouncing up and down in front of my face, and with some effort I was able to catch one in my mouth and began sucking on her erect nipple as I continued fucking the star of Melrose Place for all she was worth. She squealed in excitement as I fucked her again and again, her tight cunt gripping eagerly around my swollen shaft.I was pumping into the woman who had revitalized Melrose Place with everything I had, fucking her tight pussy as I sucked on her tits and pounded her against the wall again and again with every thrust of my cock deep into her cunt.
To keep her off-balance and remind her I was in control, I suddenly pulled her from the wall, my hands sliding under her thighs and cupping her asscheek, I turned her about and carried her over to the long, wooden table. I lowered her down so she lay with her back down on the table, and then I was fucking her in earnest again.
Heather moaned in excitement as she felt my thick cock pushing past her slit, sliding down past the folds of her outer cuntlips. I grinned down at her as she cupped her own breasts and began to pinch her nipples, kneading her firm but pliant breasts as I fucked her on the table.
"You are fucking tight!" I growled, shoving my engorged member deep into her gushing wet pussy, filling her to the brim and then some.
Her beautiful ass-cheeks were pushing hard against the table, it was smooth and warm from the sun shining on it (we had used a sunlamp to make the sensations more real for Heather's 'fantasy').
Her own fingers, sensitive and experienced, knowing what to do to make her feel good, were sliding over her breasts, making circles around her sensitive nipples, down her waist - which sent a shiver of delight through her body, she shuddered in excitement - and then down to her clit, joining my thumb, which was pressing into her lovebutton even as I filled her up with my hard cock.
As she brought her hands back up and slid them between her lustrous locks of hair, I lowered my chest down so her beautiful breasts were pressed hard against my pectorals.
Now Heather was so far gone with ecstasy that she was thrusting her hips up hard against mine, grinding them against me so that she could get as much of my cock into her eager, juicy cunt as she could.
"Do it! Do it to me!" she cried out, "Please! I want it, I want it so bad, fuck me! FUCK ME!"
My cunt clasped down around my dick so hard I thought she would rip it off, her back arched and her head forced back, her eyes sealed shut she let out a scream of pleasure that rocked throughout the boardroom. To say she had just cum would be an understatement.
My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my face, my teeth were grinding against each other and I could feel all the blood rushing out of my body and down to my cock, it seemed like I was swelling up inside of her pussy, her hot, sweet, tight pussy, and I knew I couldn't hold it much longer. I began making hard, fast strokes, my balls slapping against her asscheeks as I fucked the Melrose Place Star. She had spread her legs wide and was eagerly slamming her hips up against my pelvis, crying out for more, begging me to fuck her even more.
"GAAAKKKK!!!!" I cried and grabbed her hips tight, pulled her forward even as I slammed my own hips as far forward as possible, grinding the base of my cock against her tight, gushing pussy.
BAM, BAM, BAM, I fired shot after shot of sperm deep into her pussy, it fired from my cock and into her and I felt all the strength go out of my body with it. After my final shot I let out a gurgle of pleasure and collapsed on top of her.
"We have a deal?" she asked me, buttoning up the crumpled, wrinkled mess of a shirt.
"You have my word, I won't buy up all your stock," I laughed, then looked her over with a smile, "You were certainly worth it."
She returned the smile, then walked out of the room. The moment she left a post-hypnotic command would make her return home and forget what had happened until that night, when she would 'dream it', this would then enable her to store the information in that part of her brain where unimportant dreams and fantasies were placed, this way there was no unnatural suppression of memory that could resurface later.
Still, there was one more thing I had to do.
I pulled a cell-phone out of my pocket and flipped it open.
"Mr Rodriguez," I said into the non-functioning prop, "This is Robert Delgado, have you thought anymore about selling the five percent of stock you own?"
I pretended to listen for a second.
"No? Well, I'll be sending you a fax soon you should see, then give me a call."
As I closed up the cellphone I turned to where I knew a camera would be facing and smiled.
"After all, I only promised not to buy ALL the stock!"
"Shee-it!" laughed Bart, slapping the table, "Yes damnit! That's what I like to hear!"
I grinned, it was kind of fun, letting down my guard like this and chatting away about my greatest accomplishments... after all, it didn't matter, when I was finished with him, he'd be in no shape to tell anyone anything.
"You should have done her ass, though," Bart said, "That would have been fucking awesome!"
"Yeah, well," I responded, "Back then I didn't even think about that kind of thing, it was pussy and mouth, mouth and pussy... still, I've got no regrets, the description doesn't do her cunt justice, it was fucking tight!"
Bart smiled, "Shit man, I can't wait till I do my first celebrity, I wonder who it'll be."
"That's what I've been wondering," I replied, "You wanta do one, it'll have to be soon, after what happened to me tonight the Organisation will probably be keeping me on a shorter leash."
"Somehow I don't think you're the kind of person who wears a leash," said Bart.
I laughed, "Well, if it makes them feel better to think they control me, let them think they do."
"Tell me," he said, "What happened tonight?"
So for the next hour or so I told him about the Bat-Orgy (**) and he listened, rapt.
"Man," he said finally, when I had finished, "It's not been a good day for you, has it?"
"Forget about that," I replied, "Tell me, who do you want first, whose going to be your first piece of celebrity ass?"
He smiled, "Tell you what, pal, have you seen the movie I Know What You Did Last Summer?"Bart and I had cleaned up the mess he had made, storing the photos and journals back in the Safety Deposit Box and hiding it away in my wall safe (the little fucker even had the combination to that!) and then Bart hid himself away as soon as the Operative showed up.
It was remarkable, I thought, that already Bart trusted me enough to leave me alone with an Operative who could easily call in assistance to take him out... maybe I was as much of a charmer as I knew Kevin Spacey to be? Or maybe I'd gotten so used to hypnotizing people I was able to do it without even realizing it. Whatever the case, I had no intention of severing our relationship just yet, I was actually enjoying myself, walking the edge whilst knowing I could pull away at any second with no ill-effects.
Anyway, back to JLH.
As I said, she seemed pretty in a waifish sort of way, but hardly the incredible, beautiful sex-goddess I'd expected from Bart's description... and then I saw her body.
Wow! If ever there was a real-life equivalent to all those comic book women, this was it. She had long, smooth legs, an incredibly tight little ass, an impossibly skinny waist and HUGE TITS!!! Her body seemed like sex personified.
The rest of the movie sped by, I was truly surprised by the revelation of who the killer was... although in my defense they didn't exactly make him a suspect until the second before he was revealed. I didn't really give a shit about any of that, though, I had been hanging on, waiting to see Jennifer naked, and then finally came the shower scene at the end. She stood in a tiny towel, her cleavage alone had probably caused ten or twenty million adolescents to walk hunched over for the next couple of hours, talking on the phone.
"Pisses you off, don't it," commented Bart finally.
"After all that," I said after a few seconds, "You don't get to see her naked at all?"
"Nope," responded Bart, taking the tape out of the video - the anti-social bastard hadn't bothered to rewind it I noticed - he grinned at me, "Not even her ass."
"You know what she is, don't you?" I asked.
"Sure do," laughed Bart, leaning back in the couch and munching up the last of the popcorn, "Used to be a lot of her sort back in my neighborhood where I grew up, we called 'em cock-teases."
"When a girl walks around like that in a movie and doesn't show anything, you know what she's saying," I muttered, "She's saying, 'look at this... well, look at what you can, you'll never have it,' she is a fucking tease!"
Even as I said this I had to hide that smirk, because in truth I respected Ms Hewitt for not showing herself naked. So she had teased the country... shit, the world! and not shown anything, that just made her like me, she knew she was in a superior position to the plebes, and she knew she could flaunt as little or as much or herself as she wanted and damn the consequences. She wasn't a part of public society, she was above it.
"Nothing for it then," I said, looking Bart in the eye, "You and I are going to show Ms. Hewitt she can tease whoever she wants, just not us."
Of course, it wasn't as simple as all that.
First off I had to find an old supply of pills I had used before some of the Organisations specialists discovered a way to make me sterile, then I had to convince Bart to take them.
"Listen," I told him, "If I hypnotize her, she'll never remember what happens... but tongues might start to wag when she gets pregnant!"
After much grumbling he agreed to start taking the pills (after making me have one too, to make sure I wasn't trying to poison him), and he got even angrier when I said he'd have to take them for a week or so before we could be sure they had taken effect.
"It'll take about that long to set this all up, anyway," I told him, "I want to get Jennifer on the pill as well, so all our bases are covered, plus I've got to set up the hypnotism and plan the way we're going to do things... you want this to be done quick, or right?"
And again he assented.
"And besides," I said to clinch things, "Tomorrow I've got a meeting with The Head, Tom and Alec that I'm dreading, and I need to get some sleep!"
He agreed, made himself comfortable in the spare room and went to sleep.
Despite my protests to needing to be ready for tomorrow's meeting, I was awake into the wee hours of the morning, planning.
The Next Day.
"The bit where Kim licks the cum off Nicole's face, and then kisses her, that was awesome!" Alec was exclaiming.
Tom nodded with a grin I found to be more than a little condescending, although today I knew he was just trying to act like a little kid whose just gotten a new toy and is trying to pretend he's only slightly impressed.
"I must admit," he said, "The bit where Nicole got up and demanded to be triple-fucked was a real shocker... but I loved it! Especially at the end when the three of them came all over her," he gave a little laugh. At that precise moment the guy reminded me of those preppy sons of bitches who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth and the closest they got to work was asking the Butler to ask the gardener to trim the hedges, "Why didn't you tell us you were going to do that?"
"Well," I replied with a sly grin, "I couldn't expect you to enjoy the movie if I gave away the ending, could I?"
We all laughed, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief. The taping we had got had been more than enough for the films we were going to make, and we'd been able to edit out the photographer. Tom and Alec shook my hand a few more times and forced us all to smoke Cuban cigars during the second screening of the Bat-Orgy. (I detested any sort of smoking, but pretended to find them delicious merely for the sake that my position was precarious.)
Finally they left, and I was left alone with The Head.
"It's not good," he said, "Things are bad."
"Shit, here it comes," I thought, "Thank Goodness for my insurance policy."
"Yep, we found those two Operatives lying dead in an adjacent warehouse, their throats slit and their clothes removed."
"Shit! I was home free, I wasn't getting any of the blame, the Operatives had been killed so I was blameless! It never even occurred to me till later to think why they'd been killed... maybe some gang members had stumbled on them and taken exception to a violation of perceived territory, who cared, I was safe!"
"Thank goodness you acted so quickly or we could have had a major scandal on our hands," The Head remarked, "And you did a fantastic job on the Bat-Orgy... I just wish you could have taken all of them at least once."
I grinned, "I did remember? In the preparation (***) sequence."
"Yeah, but for your personal use only, that was the deal you made with Tom and Alec," he sounded wistful, but if he expected me to lend him the tapes he was sadly misguided... I hadn't inserted my special 'insurance policy' in those tapes, as I did with everything that held evidence of my 'work.'
"Anyway, will you be available for the Post Academy Award Orgy? It always works better when you're there... Kim Basinger is going to win Best Supporting Actress you know."
"Not this year," I replied, "My cock is willing, my body is weak, I'm gonna take a week or so off."
"Typical," he laughed, "I try to get you to go on holiday and you bring me new ideas, I ask you to be at work you want to go on holiday!"
But the comments were good natured, the guy obviously didn't hold me to blame for the events at the end of The Bat-Orgy, and he understood that after stress like that, any ordinary person would want a holiday.
Except I wasn't ordinary.
As I left the Office I detoured down to Information/Collection, each Organisation Building had one of these sections, with the information on most celebrities, stars, politicians etc available on the Closed Organisation Network (CON), or in files, dossiers and the like.
I accessed a terminal and used my backdoor password to login without leaving a record. From there I instructed the surveillance cameras to loop back the last five minutes of tape (the system was fully automated, the tapes being checked every 24 hours, and happily at this early hour, Information/Collection was deserted) while I printed out all the information I could on Jennifer Love Hewitt.
Having finished, I collected all the information up and left, safe in the knowledge that none were the wiser.
And up in the fully automated security room, Kevin Spacey had been watching what I was doing with great interest.
End Chapter Six, Part Two Of Four.
Requests, Compliments and Criticisms to:
[email protected]
(*) For those who haven't read the rest of this series, Gary Cole was the infamous Celebrity Rapist, murdered by the Organisation after being arrested for attempted rape.
(**) Ahhh yes, the infamous Bat-Orgy, Chapters Four and Five of the Celebrity Hypnotist series, available upon request from: [email protected] with Chapters 1-3 and any other stories I've written.
Chapter Four Of This Series
</DOCUMENT_TEXT> | 4 |
7,627 | Blindside | "They don't give a damn
about any trumpet playing band
it ain't what they call
rock and roll.
And sultans
Yea the sultans play Creole. Creole."
-- Dire Straits, "Sultans of Swing"
The woman at the bar scanned the crowded room with a disinterest that bordered on contempt. Her long fingernails tapped idly on her wine glass as she considered the people around her.
"Sheep," she thought contemptuously. "Every last one of them."
To her eye, every person moved as though carrying a great weight; their shoulders slumped, their eyes drooped, their smiles and laughs forced, as if each of them were being ground under the great wheel of life.
"Sheep," she thought again. "Bored, unimaginative sheep."
"Excuse me, but can I buy you a drink?" A man, no, a boy, asked her.
For a moment, the woman considered her suitor. He was tall with short, straight blonde hair, that together with his tanned skin shouted for all to see, "California sun worshiper." He really was quite cute in a boyish way, and he was just young enough to avoid the sheep pen. His eyes at least, panicked though they were awaiting her answer, held the glimmer of life.
For another moment, she considered. "I already have one, thanks," she said, dismissing him with a tone that brooked no argument.
"A dance then?" the boy asked.
The woman sighed. Just like the young to miss such an obvious signal. She didn't have either the time or inclination to teach this boy the rules of the game.
"No."
Dejected, the boy drifted away into the milling crowd and was soon as out of sight as out of mind. The woman turned her attention back to the crowds. There had to be someone here who could liven up the night. Then, in a booth across the bar, she spied someone who caught her eye.
His shoulders were not slumped. He leaned forward at the table, scanning the crowds just as she was doing. Though he was a bit older than she normally preferred, there was nothing sheepish about him. His eyes probed the crowds like a hawk looking for prey; she could almost imagine the multitude of details he observed and then discarded. Finally, a wolf in the fold.
She turned to the bartender and said a few words.
A few minutes later, the man, carrying a fresh drink, walked over and took the seat next to her.
"It's not often a beautiful woman buys me a drink." He inclined his head slightly and raised his glass in salute. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," The woman answered, a small smile gracing her features.
"I'm Steve Whiley."
"Katie Bairn. But you can call me Kate."
"Nice to meet you, Kate. Do you always buy strange men drinks?"
"Only the ones that look like fun," Kate smiled.
"I'm a terrible dancer."
"Are you a good lover?"
Steve paused a moment and considered the forward remark before smiling, "Have you ever met a man who didn't think he was God's gift to women?"
Kate laughed, "A few, but they were gay and were thus God's gift to men."
Steve joined her in laughter before taking a sip of the gin.
"You didn't answer my question," Kate prodded.
"Given my obvious bias, I guess that's something you'll just have to find out for yourself."
Kate smirked. She had picked very well. Some men found an aggressive woman intimidating; some, like Steve, not only played the game but pushed back.
"Your place or mine?"
"I've got a bachelor pad around the block."
"Bachelor pad, eh?" Kate pondered, rubbing her lip. "I'm tempted to say mine."
"But?"
"But my place is a half hour away, and since I'm dying to find the answer to my question, I guess your place is the lesser of two evils. You do have a 'droid, don't you?"
Steve nodded. "Keeps the place livable anyway."
"You'd better stop before you charm my panties right off me," said Kate, acting the part of a dreamy-eyed lover with a tone that dripped sarcasm.
Steve laughed and finished his drink in one huge gulp. "Your rules, Kate. I feel like I've just grabbed hold of a tiger's tail."
"Does that disturb you?" Kate asked seriously.
Steve leaned forward and winked. "When I've got a tiger by the tail, I bypass disturbed and go right to excited, especially considering the shape of the tail."
Kate leaned forward and patted Steve on the cheek, "Good answer."
"Good tail," Steve answered appreciatively as they stood and prepared to leave.
"Where's the moose head?" Kate asked as she surveyed the tiny apartment.
"No room," Steve grinned as he poured them drinks.
Kate maneuvered through the crowded room cautiously, pausing occasionally to study an interesting knick-knack, or to run her gloved finger over a particularly dusty shelf. She was scanning the titles in the bookshelf as Steve handed her a glass.
"You like mysteries," Kate noted.
"You could say that. I'm a P.I. by trade."
Kate turned and considered Steve carefully, her eyebrow arched in surprise as she studied him. "A private dick?"
Steve grinned. "Tonight, anyway. Tomorrow I belong to the public again."
Kate took a step closer to him and ran her finger playfully along his chest. "You must be very big in your field."
"The biggest dick I know," Steve answered playfully.
Kate grinned coyly. "No doubt." Her hand went lower until her palm pressed against a growing bulge in Steve's pants.
"Impressive. Do you have a bed in this shoe box or shall we just do it standing up?"
"Oh, I have a bedroom," Steve said, motioning toward a door across the room, "but I think I should ask if you'd like the sex to be as fast as the seduction."
"Oh no. With sex, one should always take one's time. How kind of you to ask."
"I've got an eye for details," Steve answered.
"A good quality for my Dick to possess."Kate grinned as she took his hand and pulled him into the bedroom.
***
Steve's clothes were discarded as quickly as Kate had picked him up, and he slid onto the bed, waiting for Kate to join him. Kate, though, took this opportunity to slow the pace down and stripped slowly, as Steve watched appreciatively from the bed.
The tasteful, even elegant dress and gloves were slowly removed to reveal an exciting and thought-provoking (among other things) garter and exquisitely cut lingerie. Kate's eyes darted up playfully, ensuring that her performance was appreciated. Her eyebrow arched, and she smiled smugly as she noted Steve's ready and willing cock standing in salute.
Standing at the foot of the bed, she sensuously raised one leg and rested it on the bed, giving Steve an impossibly good view of the flesh peeking out from under the delicate lace work of her lingerie.
Snap, snap.
Kate unhooked the stocking leisurely and, with deliberate sensuality, began rolling it down her long, perfectly shaped leg. Steve's eyes followed her hands with anticipatory expectation. Kate uncrooked her finger, and the stocking fell to the floor. The remaining stocking was removed with equal care.
With her legs spread, Kate pushed her not-inconsiderable breasts together before unhooking her clasp. She removed the bra, revealing two exquisitely shaped breasts.
Steve whooshed in excitement. "Nice," he said appreciatively.
Kate smiled. "I'm so glad you approve."
With everything but her panties removed, Kate ditched the erotic strip show and dove onto the bed with an acrobatic twisting leap that had her landing on her back next to Steve. He started to take her in his strong arms, but she lightly diverted him as she raised her hips and, with one smooth effortless motion, removed her panties and cast them across the room.
"Are you ready now?" Steve asked, attempting to sound amused, his gasping breath shattering the illusion.
Rolling Steve onto his back, Kate towered over him as her legs parted around his waist. "The question is," Kate mocked, "are you ready?"
Her hands dove down and wrapped themselves around Steve's throbbing cock. She tugged lightly at the foreskin, sending an electric thrill of pleasure through her waiting lover.
"Hmm. Looks like my private Dick is ready for a case."
"Ughhha" Steve grunted incoherently as she squeezed him playfully.
"The case of the purloined pussy" Kate bubbled.
"Our intrepid hero runs along the desert plains," Kate said as she rubbed Steve's glans against her belly.
"Braving the plains, unshrinking from the task at hand, the private dick enters the bushlands," Kate teased as she lifted up, allowing Steve's straining tip to be brushed by her soft, downy tufts of pubic hair.
"Emerging from the bushlands, our private dick stands before a valley, and he quivers with anticipation, knowing his quarry is near," Kate flirted as she ran his shaft through her outer lips. Despite herself, she let out a small gasp as Steve's glans ran over her swollen clit.
"Well, what d'ya know. Dick found pussy," Kate smiled as she lowered herself onto Steve.
"I like this case!" Steve gasped.
"Hmmm. I thought you might," Kate answered mischievously.
With seductive allure, Kate lifted her arms high, emphasizing for the moment her wonderful breasts, before letting her fingers run through her long, luxurious hair. Her hips began to roll in a circular motion, the motion moving Steve in and out of her, not by large amounts but very, very quickly.
Kate's fingers let a strand of hair fall, then slowly traced a path to her breasts. As she fingered her erect, sensitive nipples, she began to raise and lower herself, still with that same circular motion. Her head arched back, and a long moan escaped her as she followed the threads of pleasure she was weaving.
Steve's hands grasped her athletic waist, just for the pleasure of the contact. The sight of this gorgeous woman moving over him, playing with her breasts, was almost as stimulating as her warm, moist pussy pulsating around his shaft.
"Oh yes!" Kate groaned. "Yes!" she cried as she leaned forward, straining to follow the building pleasure.
As Kate writhed over him in orgasmic ecstasy, Steve's senses exploded.
***
The darkness was complete and total. In the dead of night, under cloudy, moonless skies, a figure moved. In the still night air, soft muffled puffs and clops from the suction cups bound to palms and knees mingled with the other noises of the city, as the burglar slowly crawled up the ten-story building. It was an old technology, but sometimes it was best to go with the tried and true, especially when most security systems could detect an antigrav field. At the top, the burglar secured a rope and threw one end over the edge.
The door on the roof of the building looked simple enough, but the burglar studied it carefully for almost a minute before pulling out a long thin wire with two clips. The burglar pushed one end of the wire through an almost nonexistent crack between the frame and the door. The glue at the end bonded instantly with a metal contact. Near the bottom of the door, the burglar pushed the wire through another crack. Only after the circuit had been bypassed did the burglar pull out a set of intricate tools and begin to pick the lock.
The door opened silently, and the burglar peered in cautiously. Only the pinnacle of professionalism restrained a sigh of relief: there was no security camera -- the stairwell wasn't monitored. A black, booted foot moved forward, and then stopped, just an inch above the floor. The boot pulled back, and the burglar knelt down to study the floor just inside the doorway. A pressure pad, a very well-disguised one. Under the black mask, the burglar smiled.
There were easier ways to steal the diamond, but this was the most challenging. The designers of the security system had laid their trap like a chess master lays out his pieces, waiting for the trap to spring. But a queen was nimble. Carefully stepping around the pad, breathing fast with anticipation and feeling the adrenaline rush of excitement, the burglar entered the building: the game was afoot.
At the heart of the building, near the center of the fifth floor, the burglar hugged the wall and waited. Two very alert guards were guarding the door, but before anything could be done, one left for the restroom. There was nothing to do now but wait until he returned.
After an eternity, he did return. From the sound of it, he had brought coffee for his partner. As they were distributing the cups, the burglar stepped out from around the corner. Before either could possibly see what was happening, the burglar blew into a small tube. One of the guards swatted his neck as if stung. The other guard's expression turned from puzzled to concerned when his partner sank slowly to the floor. Before he could react, a second small dart thudded into his neck and the world went black. It had taken less than a second.
The traps at the door were elaborate and complicated, but not infallible, and the security system remained blissfully unaware as the door opened into a small, simple room. On a pedestal in the center of the room stood the diamond; flawless, beautiful, and under the carefully trained spotlights; throwing rainbows across the room. To the casual observer, the spotlights were set to enhance the beauty of the stone. To the cold, calculating eyes of the burglar, those rainbows were being observed by sensitive optics, waiting to sound the alarm if for any reason the dazzling spectrum of light changed in even the smallest detail.
Overhead, a security camera slowly panned the room. In the basement, the image of the burglar filled the monitors as a guard sat slumped over in his chair, the flashing "Security Disabled" light reflecting off his cheek.
Security, though, was never a device, always a system, and a system has many parts. The burglar had taken care of building security; all that remained was the room security.
It was almost trivial.
Almost.
Ten minutes later, a black-clad figure slid down the rope and, on reaching the ground, disappeared into the darkness.
***
"Revisiting our top story: Early this morning, the Vandleberg diamond was stolen from Danzil's Auction House. Police investigators say they currently have no solid leads, but believe this was the work of the pygmy bandit, so called because of the blowgun-style tranquilizer darts used to subdue the guards. The Vandleberg diamond was to be auctioned this morning, and the diamond was estimated to have fetched over one million new dollars. This is the twelfth time the pygmy bandit has struck. Police estimate the dollar value of the combined thefts at over fifty million new dollars worldwide." The radio blared, rousing Steve from blissful slumber.
He listened to the report groggily, leisurely making the transition from sleep to alertness. Leisurely, until he remembered his guest and last night. Blindly, he felt around his bed. He was alone.
What a strange woman. Usually, it was the man who left.
Sighing, Steve opened his eyes and sat up. He paused at the doorway when he saw Kate sitting in gloriously nude splendor at the small table, reading the morning paper as she sipped coffee.
"Good morning," she said as she noticed him. "You slept well."
"I had good reason," Steve smiled.
"I've got to leave in a bit, but I wanted to ask you before I left if you'd like to get together tonight."
"You mean, this isn't a one-night stand?" Steve asked.
Kate considered him a moment. "It can be if you want. But I think you're," she cast about for a word, "convenient."
"When you flatter me so outrageously, how can I refuse?" Steve asked.
Kate smiled and patted his hand patronizingly as Steve joined her at the table.
"Tonight, though, I think we'll use my place."
"Oh?" Steve asked."Let's just say, it's hard for a woman to get comfortable here."
Steve slapped his head in mock chastisement. "So it's not me! It's my decorating skills!"
"Exactly." Kate smiled.
They shared breakfast before Kate excused herself. As she headed down the hall to the elevator, she opened her purse and checked to be sure the diamond was still there. It never hurt to be cautious. One wouldn't want to lose a million-dollar diamond.
***
"Mr. Whiley?" the man asked as he stepped into the office.
Steve rose and smiled as he offered his hand and said, "The same. What can I do for you?"
"Sam Greene. I represent Vincent, Foster, and Thanes."
"The insurance company," Steve said.
"Yes. You've heard of the Vandleberg burglary?"
"It's kind of hard to miss, considering it's the talk of the town right now. Your firm didn't perchance insure the diamond?"
Sam shook his head. "No. Fortunately that burden belongs to another firm. We do, however, insure the Starburst Ruby, and it will arrive in LA in three days. Considering the skills of the person who stole the Vandleberg diamond, you can understand perhaps why we are a bit nervous."
"Of course," Steve said.
"We'd like to hire you to work with our security experts."
"Security isn't really my field."
"But you do have experience in the area, and you have a certain reputation. My employers feel that you would be a considerable asset in protecting our charge."
"And if I accept, what kind of role did you have in mind?"
"You'd be a consultant. Able to come and go as you please, and pass along recommendations to our chief of security. We think your biggest asset is your ability to profile criminals."
Steve nodded. His ability to profile criminals had developed over many years of tracking down serial killers and terrorists. The skills he lacked in security would be balanced by his feel for the criminal mind, understanding what drove him, how he worked. The insurance company had done their homework.
"A thousand a day, plus expenses. How long do you need me?"
"Thirty days. That's how long the diamond will be in town."
Steve let out a long, low whistle. "You're not expecting a volume discount, are you?"
Sam smiled broadly. "The Starburst Ruby is priceless. The current owner purchased it for almost half a billion new dollars. The insurance premiums on the stone are generous. Your fee is more than acceptable."
"Maybe I should make it two thousand a day, then," Steve laughed.
"Maybe, but I don't think you should look a gift horse in the mouth."
"Good advice. When do you want me to start?"
"This afternoon."
Steve frowned. "Let's make it tomorrow morning. Best to get a fresh start, and I have a date tonight."
"An expensive date, to lose a thousand dollars for."
"She's worth it," Steve said firmly.
Sam shrugged and began pulling forms out of his briefcase for Steve to fill out.
***
"You look distracted," Kate said over dinner.
Steve looked up sheepishly. "Sorry."
"Thinking about tonight?" Kate said coyly, running her fork in figure eights through her pasta.
"That too," Steve smiled.
Kate's eyebrow arched dangerously. "Too? You mean there's someone else?"
"Something else. I got a new case today."
Kate leaned forward eagerly. "Wanna tell me about it?"
"Can't. Sorry."
Kate pouted. "You don't trust me."
"Would you trust me if I told you all about it, knowing that my clients expect me to keep my trap shut?"
Kate smiled warmly, "Kinda like, how can I trust you if they can't?"
"Exactly."
"I can live with that."
The conversation lagged a little before Kate looked up and said, "You never told me you were famous."
Steve laughed. "If I were really famous, you'd know I was famous."
Kate laughed. "Well, I don't follow Hollywood that closely. I did watch Zero G this afternoon, though. I wondered why your name seemed familiar."
Steve shrugged. "That film's been nothing but trouble. People are terribly disappointed when they see the real thing."
Kate leaned over and said conspiratorially, "Then those people never had you flat on their back."
"Most people wouldn't want to have me on my back."
"I like a discriminating man."
"How fortunate for me."
"Are you done yet?"
Steve looked down at his half-finished plate, then at the beautiful woman staring at him, her lush, red lips parting slightly with desire.
"Yes," Steve said.
***
Kate collapsed onto Steve, her skin wet with perspiration, panting in deep long breaths as she came down from her orgasm. As she rolled off him, Steve kissed her lightly on the lips, then lowered his head to suckle her still erect teat.
"Hmmm," Kate hummed as she ran her fingers through his hair.
Inspired by the exhilarating sex, Steve began to work his way down, fully intending to give her at least two or three more orgasms to pass the time.
Kate's hands stiffened around his head, pulling him to a stop. "No. Please."
Steve looked up puzzled.
"I appreciate it. But really, I'm done."
Steve sighed and snuggled up next to her. "It's the control, isn't it?"
"Are you investigating me?" Kate asked. She smiled but she sounded annoyed.
"No," Steve said quickly. "Just an observation."
Kate frowned. "I don't think there's anything wrong with being on top of things."
Steve laughed at the pun. "Do you hear me complaining?"
"Not exactly."
"None at all. I'm just trying to find out how to please you as much as you please me."
Kate smiled and traced a finger down Steve's side. "You please me just fine, Steve. I don't sleep with just anyone twice, you know."
"I'm trying for a third."
"Then stop observing."
"I'm a detective. I'm naturally curious. And, other than the fact that you're the best woman I've ever slept with, I know nothing at all about you."
Kate sighed. "Fine. I need to be in control because when I was young I wasn't. I was raped when I was fifteen. I swore I'd never be that helpless again. It's a promise I've kept."
"I'm sorry," Steve said quickly.
"No you're not," Kate chided. "You're naturally curious."
"You're right," Steve sighed. "But you know, letting someone please you isn't really losing control. Look how easily you stopped me, with just two words."
"I am _not_ going to get into a sexual psychology discussion with you. I like who I am just fine."
"I like you just fine too," Steve smiled. "I just thought talking about something would be better than staring at the ceiling for the next half hour."
"Just my luck, to find the only guy in the whole city who doesn't roll over and fall asleep after sex."
"You inspire me."
Kate studied Steve for a moment, wanting to open up to him, wanting, even needing to share herself with him. For a moment. Then the moment passed.
***
Steve studied the case files before him, as a mental image of the burglar slowly began to take shape. Physically, he'd be between five feet and five foot five. Shorter than average. He'd be thin, in excellent shape, and acrobatic. The basic physical profile was easy, extrapolated from the size of passages used, and the physical demands necessary to elude the other traps. Other than general build, the profile offered few clues that would let Steve pick him out of a crowd.
The psychological profile, however, was a wealth of information. This thief thrived on danger. Time and time again the easier paths were discarded in favor of more challenging routes. But the burglar wasn't stupid. He took risks, but always avoided the foolproof traps. Without doubt, the thefts were always meticulously planned.
Planning required information. Before the thief could steal the jewel, the thief would first have to steal information.
Steve punched a few numbers into his terminal and an attractive blonde appeared on the screen.
"Good morning, Steve," she said.
"Morning, Candice. How's the love life?" Steve asked.
"Other than Jimmy the super-geek, pretty boring," Candice sighed.
"I thought you liked nerds."
Candice grinned evilly. "Oh, they're cute enough, but they just don't get the juices flowing like you do."
Steve smiled at the obvious bait. "I'll send Jimmy a pair of handcuffs, blindfold, and a supergizmo dildo 9000 with instructions."
Candice sighed. "I take it you don't have time to pay a visit?"
"Sorry, lover. Got a new case."
"Business before pleasure. What do you need?"
"You," Steve grinned, "But that will have to wait. I need you to break into Vincent, Foster, and Thanes's security systems. What I need are a few traps to alert me if someone follows you."
Candice thought for a moment. "That's not going to be easy. There are a million ways to break into a computer."
"I have faith in you Candice," Steve said.
Candice sighed. "Credit my account the usual fee. I'll have it all set up for you by this evening."
"Have it alert you too," Steve said. "I'll need someone to trace the hack, and you know me and computers."
"Yeah, so does the DOD," Candice laughed. "Later, lover."
The screen went blank and Steve transferred one thousand dollars to Candice's account - double her usual fee. His clients would, of course, pick up the tab.
***
Steve woke to the soft chirping of his phone.
"Yeah?" Steve grunted.
"We've got a hit," Candice said, "turn on your portable."
Steve staggered out of bed and rooted around his things until he found his briefcase and pulled out his portable. The screen flashed to life with a brilliance that momentarily dazzled him.
"Ohh, he's good," Candice was saying.
A red dot flashed on the map on the screen, the location of the insurers.
"I'm tracing him now. It's not going to be easy, it looks like he's using blind relays to mask his location," Candice mumbled as the city map dissolved into a national map and a line drawn from LA to New York.
The map dissolved again to be replaced by a world map and lines began bouncing back and forth over the globe.What their prey was doing was similar to taping two public telephone handsets together. You could trace the call to the public telephone, but then you'd have to trace where the second telephone was going. More and more lines began to appear until the map was literally covered in red.
"There's too many!" Candice howled in frustration. "By the time we get through all the relays, he'll have what he wants and be long gone! We should cut him off now."
Steve pondered groggily for a moment. "No. Let him have the information."
Candice frowned. "Steve, I can't tell you anything about this guy. When he's through, he'll know everything about their security system."
"No, there's two very important things I've learned about him. He knows as much about the security system as I do."
"And?" Candice prompted when Steve drifted in thought.
"And he's going after the Starburst Ruby."
"I don't see how that helps you," Candice said, glancing at the ever-growing red lines of the trace.
"Forewarned is forearmed."
"He's gone," Candice said.
"Thanks, Candice. I'll talk with you later."
"Be careful with this one, Steve. This guy's so smooth, your bullets may just slide off him."
The screen went blank as she cut the connection.
Steve glanced around Kate's bedroom and discovered he was alone. The clock said the time was three-fifteen in the morning. Wondering where Kate was, he got up and searched the spacious apartment until he found her in the study.
"Steve," Kate said as he entered the room. "You're up early."
"I missed you," Steve said as he slid up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.
She clasped his hands in hers. "I couldn't sleep, must have been all that excitement earlier. So I decided to get rid of some old e-mail."
"Sounds terribly boring. Let's go back to bed, and you can fuck me unconscious again."
Kate smiled. "Would you settle for a blowjob?"
Steve sighed in mock resignation. "I'll suffer, but only for you."
Kate smiled and grabbed his butt as they walked back to the bedroom.
Three weeks passed, and slowly the case files yielded the burglar's profile. The profile was mostly probabilities and likelihoods, but one thing was certain. If the thief struck, it would be in two weeks, during the next new moon.
Steve went over the security blueprints with a critical eye, the eye he thought his prey would use. Over the weeks, two clear paths had emerged, both converging on a single point.
Steve left the paths clear. He didn't want to spook his quarry. He knew the day and he knew the place. And there was something missing in the security files the thief had stolen. The files made no mention of Steve Whiley.
"I like you, Steve," Kate said as she ran her palm over Steve's chest, her fingers lightly ruffling his chest-hair.
Steve smiled. "I like you too, Kate. Really, a stronger word comes to mind."
Kate frowned. "No. You don't understand. It's... It's not easy for me to say that. I thought you'd be just another one-night fling. Then I thought it was just for the good sex. But I like you, Steve. I haven't said that to anybody in a long, long time."
Steve considered her a moment, noting a look of what might be fear mixed with vulnerability on her face. Tenderly, he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
"Thank you. I like you too. You're a good friend, a very good friend."
She took his hand in hers and held it next to her. "We talked once about control."
"We did," Steve said cautiously. "It wasn't your favorite subject."
"I think maybe friends shouldn't have to worry about such things," Kate said, her voice quivering as she fumbled for the words.
"Really, it's OK," Steve said soothingly.
"No," Kate sighed. "No, it's not. I want you to fuck me, Steve."
Steve's eyes probed her as he felt out the dangerous new turn in their relationship. In many ways, Kate remained a puzzle wrapped in an enigma shrouded in mystery. But he did know that what Kate offering was almost akin to a virgin offering herself to a man. _Change me_
"Are you sure? Really, Kate, you don't need to prove anything."
Kate smiled weakly. "I know. I want this."
Kate rolled over and pulled Steve on top of her. Given the charged atmosphere, Steve was almost not up to the task. Almost.
She spread her legs for him, wrapping her thighs around him as his excitement at the beautiful woman below him manifested itself.
Feeling him grow large against her belly, Kate whispered, "He didn't look a thing like you."
"Kate..." Steve paused, "Have you ever talked about this with anyone?"
Kate shook her head, no. "Will you listen?"
"I don't think now is the best time..."
"Please?" It was a plea.
Steve sighed and pushed against her entrance. She was moist, but not terribly so. Steve suspected it was mostly from their earlier play. He also suspected that even if she were bone dry, she would have insisted. For some reason, tonight she wanted to relive that time. Slowly, gently, he began to move in a soft rocking motion. As she began to talk, Steve moved within her, not for the sake of sex, not to meet the demands of lust, but to keep alive the warm, comfortable sensations. As the tale grew darker, more horrifying, Steve's movements became an attempt to stay erect because for some reason she needed him inside her.
"I was fifteen. Fifteen and a half. I was such a virgin. My parents and school were so draconian, I hadn't even learned how to masturbate. It was a private school - very exclusive. It was late afternoon. It had just rained, and the air was clammy. The kind of air that would soak your shirt just by standing outside. It was hot too. Really hot. I shouldn't have been out jogging, but I was on the track team at school. I wanted the practice."
"The hiking trails wound through the woods. I always used to like them, they were so pretty. Especially in spring. There were even deer and squirrels that would come up to you if you had food for them. That day, there was a man on the path in front of me. He wore a long, dirty overcoat. His hair was greasy looking, and he had an unkempt beard. I was scared of him the moment I saw him, but I was moving fast, and I figured I'd be by him in a flash."
"When I was close enough to smell the stale smoke and alcohol that surrounded him, he pulled a gun on me. I should have turned around when I first saw him, I never suspected a gun. I even kept running for a second because I really didn't know what was happening. But he told me to stop and then I did know. The path there almost touched the road and he led me out to his van. The kind with no windows in the back. He made me get in."
Kate's voice had an almost detached quality, and her eyes stared at an unseen point in space, though her hands continued to stroke Steve's chest as he gently rocked above her.
To tell of that day was to relive it all over again, but Steve's comfortable presence, the feel of his clean, soft skin against her palms, the feel of his slow, gentle movements within her, gave her strength.
She was a proud woman, strong and independent. As horrified as she was to be reliving this terrible moment, she was even more shocked to discover how vulnerable she really was, how much she really needed Steve here, now.
"He drove me someplace, I don't know where. I don't know how long he drove. I was in the back curled into a ball, trying to pretend this wasn't happening to me. I was so scared. I didn't think it was possible to get more scared, but then he stopped, and I knew there was something worse than being scared. He told me to get undressed. I just sat there, crying on the floor. When I didn't do what he wanted, he slapped me," A trembling hand went up to touch her cheek, feeling the decade-old sting anew.
"I stood up and got undressed. His eyes on me felt as dirty and oily as his hair. God, he was an ugly man. When he reached out to me, I cringed, and he hit me again. He felt my breasts, they weren't very big, but that didn't stop him. Then he felt my pussy, and I pulled away from him. This time he didn't slap me, he hit me, hard enough that I fell to the floor."
"He dropped his pants. I'd never seen a penis. It was a small thing really, three, maybe four inches. But it was the first penis I ever saw, it was erect, and it looked huge and monstrously terrifying. He knelt over me. I didn't understand what was happening. I kept thinking 'My God, what's he going to do?' Even when he aimed his penis at my pussy, I didn't understand. Then he pushed."
Kate trembled, and her voice broke. Steve paused in his movements until Kate opened her eyes, and with a light, trembling touch urged him to continue.
"It hurt. But it wasn't a monstrous hurt. It was a sharp sting, the feel of dry flesh on dry flesh. I think I was too terrified to really feel pain. He tore away my virginity and my innocence. Then he started moving, and it stung when he did, like rubbing an open wound with dirty hands. It seemed like an eternity, but really, I don't think it took all that long. Then he finished."
"If he had stopped there, I think it would have been easier for me later on. But he didn't stop. He had felt my virginity, and for some reason, for some sick, unknown, perverted reason, he began to finger me, using my own blood as lubricant. At first, that's all he did. But then, I started getting excited." Kate turned her head as a tear fell down her cheek onto the pillow.
"The bastard made me cum. He fingered me to orgasm." Kate's voice was so pained Steve winced to hear it. "He made me fucking enjoy it. ARRRGH!" Kate howled in frustration. "It wasn't enough that he controlled what I did, controlled my body, but he took the last bit of control I had left. That was the real rape."
Slowly Kate opened her eyes and turned to stare up at Steve. Her glare was ice-cold and harder than diamonds.But the look of compassion, of shared outrage on Steve's face stopped her. And slowly she let go of the death grip on her emotions and began to cry. Steve pulled her up to him and hugged her hard as he felt her tears run down his shoulders.
"It's OK," Steve said softly as he held her. "It's not your fault. When I worked for the cops, I learned lots of rape victims get sexually aroused. It doesn't make it right."
"I know," Kate whimpered as she pounded her fist against his chest. "I know."
"Did they ever catch the guy?"
"I don't know. For years I tried to forget about him, or at least ignore him."
"So you kept it all bottled up."
"I was too ashamed to tell anyone. But I thought a friend, a real friend, would understand."
Steve stroked her hair lovingly and looked her in the eye as he replied, "A real friend does. It's not your fault. You're the same Katie I knew before you told me, and I love you just as much."
Kate's breath caught. "Love?"
Steve frowned briefly at the slip. It was true though. Katie was everything he admired in a woman - beautiful, articulate, intelligent, and endlessly exciting. It wasn't love at first sight, but it was a love that had grown as bit by bit she revealed herself to him.
"Too heavy?"
Kate laughed and whipped away a tear. "I just told you the most depressing story, and you're worried proclaiming your love for me is too heavy?"
"So I'm a considerate bastard. Sue me."
"Are you going to lay me back down and finish what you started, or are you going to get all mushy on me?"
"Can't I do both?" Steve grinned.
Kate sighed, as she at first submitted to Steve's movements, then slowly she began participating. With Steve above her, she yielded much of the control, but gained instead a trust. A trust that was well rewarded, as for the first time, they made love.
"I've got to be away for the next three nights, Kate. I'm sorry."
"Your case?" Kate asked idly, somewhat relieved since she was not sure how to tell Steve she needed some time to herself.
Steve nodded. "It's gonna get hot and heavy over the next few days. I really won't have time for anything else."
"Nothing dangerous."
Steve smiled and shook his head. "No. Nothing dangerous. Just time consuming."
"Well, be careful."
"Your wish is my command."
Kate stared at the computer screen, going over for the thousandth time the details of her plan. This would be the last heist. She had more money than she'd ever need. But it was never about the money. It was never about pretty baubles, though both were nice fringe benefits. It was always the thrill of the hunt. Always the sense of danger and fear. Tokens of the danger and fear she had felt so long ago, but on a job she was in control.
The last week with Steve, though, had changed many things she once took for granted. She didn't always need to be in control, for one. It was even fun. As the days passed by, and her bond with Steve grew deeper, the need for this job grew less and less within her.
For a moment, she paused to remember the first time she had let Steve suck her. It was almost the ultimate loss of control. The total yielding to her partner's timings, her partner's whims of direction and speed. The first few moments recalled those terrifying moments as the rapist's fingers circled her clit. But this time it was different. This time she was loved. This time she wanted it. It had been wonderful.
If Steve's job hadn't called him away, she might have skipped it entirely. But it was all planned out. As always, she had been meticulous in her details. And so in the end, it was only momentum that carried her forward.
Steve paced the room nervously, glancing now and again at the ruby that dominated the room. It was a flawed ruby, but the flaw made it priceless. Somehow the flaw, deep within the fist-sized gem, created an explosion of light and color inside, giving the gem its name. The simple farmer who unearthed it now owned an island in the Bahamas. People of wealth lusted after it as a token of their power and prestige.
The sense of anticipation was thick. The profile said the thief would strike when the moon was new, a window of three nights. But without knowing how he knew, Steve felt it would be this night. A signal from the guards alerted him that the night watch was beginning.
He acknowledged the call, then slipped silently into a recess in the wall, and waited.
The air duct was cramped, almost suffocating, and the thin metal foil creaked and groaned as she wiggled through, sending pangs of fear shooting through her. Noise was her enemy. Fear was her enemy as well. She paused a moment to calm herself, letting the tension drain from her with a simple meditation. When she began moving again, not even the mice noted her passing.
With the greatest of care, Kate removed the grate. If anything even as small as a bead of sweat should fall, the pressure sensitive floor would sound the alarm. If there were a noise louder than a whisper, or even as soft as a whisper, the alarm would sound.
The grate removed, she peeked in, surveying the room and looking for guards. The files didn't call for any, but humans, unlike security systems, were unpredictable - that's what made them so dangerous. Finding no one with her cursory glance, she strapped on the suction cups and began crawling across the ceiling.
Directly over the gem, she paused to admire its beauty from this unique vantage point. In minutes, it would be hers. Maybe this one she would not sell.
From the darkened vantage of the recess, Steve's eyes followed the figure as it moved across the ceiling. For a moment, he allowed himself to be impressed at the cat-like skill and coordination the thief exhibited. The thief carried only the barest essentials, nothing surprising there. What was surprising was that the thief was a woman. The profile didn't rule it out, but it didn't exactly scream feminine characteristics either.
Steve stepped out from his hiding place, his gun leveled at the figure.
"That's far enough," Steve said.
The thief turned sharply at the voice then froze. Steve had anticipated a break to the alternate route. In fact his aim was shifting in that direction, and for a moment he was as surprised at his prey's lack of reaction as the prey was to discover someone else in the room.
"Oh God! No! Not Steve!" Kate's mind raced at the unceasing thought. The fear of discovery and the terrible consequences finally solidified in her mind. She had to get away.
Steve pressed a button on the remote and the two air ducts were suddenly sealed by heavy metal plating.
"A new addition," Steve said. "Installed after you downloaded the security files. The only way out is through those doors, and you know the security out there is so heavy you'd never break through. You like risks, but you're not stupid - that's why you choose the air ducts."
The thief's shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Lower yourself carefully to the floor. No sudden movements. I don't see a weapon on you, but I'm not going to take any chances either."
The thief lowered herself to the floor slowly but the stance when she reached the ground was wrong. She was still looking for a way out.
"Don't think grabbing the remote will do you any good. The vents will stay shut for the next five hours. The guards will enter the room in exactly nine minutes. More than enough time for me to get to know you a little bit. You see, I'm a professional too. It's a rare day when I get to corner my prey personally. Security was kind enough to indulge me with a little time, once I managed to convince them there was no escape, of course."
The thief's stance changed, again the posture of defeat. Checkmate.
"Remove your mask, please."
Kate was panting in short, strained gasps as she raised her hand to the mask. Powerless. This was what she had skirted all these years. Always, she knew that this could happen. Maybe she even wanted it to happen, maybe this time it would be different.
Steve waved the gun impatiently.
Her hands had stopped, her fingers just under the fabric. She couldn't go on, but Steve wouldn't take no for an answer. How many minutes until security burst in and made it all irrelevant?
Her head bowed in defeat and shame she pulled the mask free.
"No!" Steve cried, aghast.
"I'm sorry, Steve. I didn't know this was your case. I never… I never would have…" Words failed her as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Then Steve did the unthinkable, and turned his back on her as his mind whirled.
Ethics. Steve lived and breathed ethics, he had seen what not having them did to people. Ethics was returning someone's wallet with the money intact even if you hadn't eaten in a week. Ethics was spending time with a friend because it had been promised, even if that time interfered with work or other activities. It was knowing the right thing and doing it even if it hurt.
Ethics demanded Kate be turned over to the cops. Some would say that she was only ripping off the insurance companies. Ethics said that the insurance companies always got their due -- the cost of the stolen items would come out of the pockets of thousands of people, people like Steve, people like his friends, his buddies on the force.
His eyes were closed but he could still see Kate standing behind him. If this was bad for him, how much worse for her? How much control would she have in prison? She trusted him, something she had never done since that terrible rape. She trusted him not to hurt her.
She loved him.
He loved her.
Love was stronger than ethics.
Steve raised the remote and said, "Jack, what's your readiness?"
"Five men at the door. Five men at each of the airduct exits," the radio crackled.
"Alarm status?"
"Only your signal."
"Ok. Reset the system - that was just a test."
"A test?""Hold on. I'm coming in," the voice demanded, becoming more irate.
The door burst open, and a large, heavyset man strode in. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Kate and started fumbling for his weapon.
"Hold your horses, Jack. I'd like you to meet one of my employees. This is Katie Bairn. She's an expert at getting into impossible places."
"Your file didn't say anything about an employee."
"My files don't say a lot of things," Steve said, his tone low, level, and dangerous.
Unconvinced, Jack pressed, "Why now? This thing's only here five more days. If you wanted a test, you should've done it weeks ago. And you should've told me first."
Steve, transferring his anger to Jack, stomped over until the two men were face to face. Jabbing his finger into Jack's chest, Steve said with barely restrained fury, "Now, because my profile says if the pygmy bandit strikes, it will either be tomorrow night or the night after. I want your men alert, I want you alert. I don't work for you, or with you, Jack, my job is a consultant. If I hadn't warned you about the ducts, and Katie had been our bandit, the ruby would be gone by now. So, the end result, Jack, is that you're pissed off, but the system works _damn it_. If we can snag Katie, then by God we can snag anybody."
"All right, man. Don't have a cow. Geez, sorry. I just got all worked up, and it takes a while to calm down."
Steve smiled. "Yeah, I'm sorry too. I'm angry because Katie almost got by me anyway. We need to get those locks on automatic - I'll go over the details with you later."
"Sure thing, Steve," Jack said. Then he glanced over at Katie, who was watching them with a completely unreadable expression. "She really that good?"
"Before this tour is over, Jack, remind me to tell you about the time she tested White House security."
Jack smiled. "I'll do that." He turned and bowed slightly to Katie, saying, "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
Katie smiled weakly before Jack turned and left the room.
"Why?" Katie asked. "You know me well enough to maybe understand what I do. I thought I knew you too. The Steve I know would have turned me in. It would have eaten him alive, but he'd do it."
Steve swallowed hard. "People change." He paused a moment and then said, "People _can_ change."
"I know," Katie said softly. "What now?"
"I don't know," Steve said. "I really don't." | 3 |
7,629 | MILKMAID | "Just lean your bike up against the side of the house," Cathy said. "Nobody will monkey with it -- as you'll soon learn, this is a very friendly neighborhood."
Friendly indeed! Yes, and I was going to learn real soon what "friendly" meant, and how I was going to have to be "friendly" with all of the boys (and some of the girls), and with any other creep that the Boss OK'd.
Yeah, I was going to get a thorough education that afternoon, and in the weeks -- and the years -- that followed.
It wasn't much consolation that there were a lot of other girls from school (and from other places) in the same fix. He didn't even refer to us as his harem -- we were his "herd" -- no better than animals, forced to serve -- and to service -- anybody that met the Boss's "standards". Which usually meant meeting his price.
But all that came later. Right now I was rather enjoying the feeling I got Down There from riding my bike over to Cathy's house. Yeah, I knew the words -- vulva and vagina -- and I even knew the difference between the two. After all, we had learned them in hygiene class at school, but I didn't feel comfortable with them. And I knew the gutter words, too, like snatch and twat, and the c-word, but I wouldn't even think them in those days. So I just kept on thinking of the parts of my body in the terms of my childhood. Just as Cathy still referred to her breasts as "boobies", even though they were so well filled out that you would swear she was nursing a baby.
But I was going to learn the words -- and learn to use them (the words and the parts of the body) -- in no time at all. After all, my teacher was a master at the art.
CHAPTER: Chapter 2
CORRECTED_TEXT:
I got the first hint that something was wrong when we walked into the house. I knew that Cathy lived with her older brother, and she said that he was away on one of his out-of-town trips. "Lining up meat", she said, which is about the strangest job description I had ever heard. So I imagined we would be alone in the house that afternoon.
We were let into the house by Anne, obviously a maid, according to the outlandish costume she had on -- an outfit that displayed everything that she had, but did it in a tastefully sexy manner -- who spoke with a French accent that was obviously fake.
She showed us to the bedroom, no less, where we were greeted by a very sinister-looking man, flanked by four of the older boys from school. Five men in a bedroom had to spell trouble, and I tried to back out, but Cathy blocked my way and Anne grabbed me by the ponytail, and dragged me back into the room. I noticed that they also had rigged up a number of video tape recorders, and I knew instinctively that I was cast in the starring role of whatever little drama they had planned.
They wasted no time getting started. "Strip!" the man barked at me. The boys giggled, just like a bunch of girls.
I wasn't having any of it. The Boss repeated the command. "Strip, or we'll tear your clothes off.
"Makes no difference to me," he went on. "We'll get to see your little bod just as well either way. But it might make a difference to you. You see, if we have to tear your clothes off, the boys are likely to get excited, and -- shall we say -- take certain liberties along the way.
"And perhaps more serious, you won't have anything to wear home at the end of the afternoon.
"Oh, don't worry -- it'll still be broad daylight when we dump you in the middle of the supermarket parking lot, and there'll be lots of people around to see that you don't get into trouble during your walk home, but you just might find it a little embarrassing without your clothes."
CHAPTER: Chapter 3
CORRECTED_TEXT:
OK, so that did it. If I didn't strip for them, they'd make me walk home naked after they had finished with me. And believe me, I was getting a pretty good idea as to what "finish" they had in mind. Even though I was a virgin (which had earned me some ridicule from my schoolmates), I knew one end of the sausage from the other, as the saying goes. I noticed, by the way, that they didn't promise to give me my clothes back even if I did everything they wanted, but I tried not to think about that. The alternative was a sure thing.
I turned my back, and started to unbutton my blouse, but the man stopped me. "Full front," he barked. "And nice and slow, with lots of wiggles. Show her, Cathy."
I don't know where Cathy ever learned to strip like that, but it looked like a professional job. My big brother had told me how it was at the "burlycue", as he called it -- where the girls took off their clothes while the audience cheered. I remember one time he just about broke me up with an imitation of the antics they went through while they were undressing.
But this time it wasn't for laughs. Cathy went through the actions off stage, as it were, while I had to imitate her in front of the camera. First the shoes and stockings, then unbutton the school blazer, tug it off slowly, and toss it aside. Now my hair ribbon, letting my hair flow about my face, down to my shoulders. But it wasn't long enough to cover my breasts when I took my blouse off.
Which was next. Slowly, one button at a time, then gently tug the bottom out from under my skirt, and then off the shoulders. I don't know whether they'd known I wasn't wearing a bra, but they knew pretty soon, because there were no straps over my shoulders. And that made them sit up and really pay attention. And start whistling, and cheering, and shouting "Take it off!", just like a pack of wolves. And that was just about the hardest thing I ever did in my life. Jeepers! These were boys that I was going to see tomorrow, and every day, in school, and I had to give them a free show!
CHAPTER: Chapter 4
CORRECTED_TEXT:
Well, after I got the blouse off, the boys (and the man who was running the event) got impatient, and they made me take off my skirt and panties together, in one movement. And then I had to stand while they looked. And took pictures. They made me stand in all kinds of positions, some gross, some inviting, some in imitation of famous paintings, like "September Morn". And of course, each one of them had to feel me, and pinch my nipples (hard enough to hurt like fire, some of them) and poke and tickle me Down There. All on camera, of course. And the man they called the Boss told me that all of the boys would get prints of the pictures "for their scrapbooks", so they could gloat over them and (worse yet) show them around school, as proof that they had "done" me.
And now, the Boss pointed out, it wouldn't do me any good to try to squeal to my parents or to the police, because the pictures were proof that I was doing everything willingly. After all, he said, maybe you could fake photographs, but motion pictures on video tape were something else.
And what was more (he didn't have to point it out, but he did) I would be so embarrassed just to have the pictures get around to my parents and to the teachers that I would be willing to "behave" just so he would keep them out of circulation.
And then he used that oily tone of voice that I was going to get to know so well. "Now, Sweetie, now that you've shown us what you've got, we're going to let you show us what you can do with it. But only after you beg us to fuck you," he added.
My God! To tell the truth, I had known in my heart that it was going to lead up to this, but hearing him say it was like a fist in the pit of my stomach.
That's where I drew the line. And I told him so.
CHAPTER: Chapter 5
CORRECTED_TEXT:
He didn't like to have someone tell him "no", I soon found out. And found out again, over the next few years. And again and again.You'd think that I'd learn after a while that it didn't do any good to defy him, but he had everything all planned out so that he always had something worse to demand of me, just when I thought that I had reached the very bottom of pain and shame.
I'm sure that he lay awake nights thinking of new things he could ask me to do, just to give him an excuse to punish me. And I found out later that he used all of the members of his "herd" from time to time as consultants, to suggest new outrages to inflict on the girls. I know this for a fact, because he often called on me as an "idea girl".
He used to brag that he never gave an order on an "or else" basis. Every order was to be obeyed, sooner or later. The only option a girl had was to obey immediately and eagerly, or to be "persuaded" until she was more than eager to obey. And of course he was never completely satisfied, even when she obeyed immediately. He always found something to complain about, and to give him an excuse for punishment. And most of his "clients" were the same kind of people, but not so bad as he was, so we came to look on the hours we spent serving them as a kind of relief.
While we were what he called "visiting girls", and still lived at home, we had to limit our "duty" time to what he thought we could steal from our families without them getting wise. After we became residents, of course, we had 24 "duty" hours a day. (And every day of the month, as he liked to remind us.)
Every "duty" hour when we were not actually serving (read that "servicing") his clients was spent in keeping our bodies in shape or in training to service them better.
But that all came later. Right now, he was determined to have me beg him and the boys to rape me. Only he wanted me to use the f-word.
Chapter 6
And so my training began. The first installment of a never-ending series of torments. At least, it has not ended yet, after several years (I forget how many), and if there is any end in sight, I certainly can't see it.
He started out by letting the boys "get to know me". I didn't know it at the time, but everything those boys (young men, actually) did to me was pretty tame stuff. He knew it, of course -- he knew that I would be hurt, disgusted, scared to death by their childish torments, but he also knew that their amateurish attempts left lots of room for "improvement" -- for a gradual build-up of techniques, each worse than the last one.
They strapped me down, still stark naked, of course, on a framework of metal rods, lying on my back with my arms and legs spread. I've gotten to know that framework well, during my years of membership in his "herd" -- to know its capabilities and its flexibility -- how it could hold a girl's body in every position you can imagine, leaving every possibly square inch of her body accessible to whatever torments her torturer fancied.
And then, to make sure that they had full access to the most interesting areas, they fastened clips (they hurt!) onto the lips Down There, and stretched them out to straps that fitted around my thighs, so that my vagina was spread wide open.
Well, the boys were mostly interested in pinching and fingering all of the no-no places, with a little tickling mixed in. But they also added a bit of tongue action that was actually pleasant -- kissing, and licking, and sucking my nipples and -- especially -- Down There.
And then Anne took over. She was an expert in what I came to know was called "erotic" stimulation -- in no time at all, she had me wiggling and moaning, and begging her to continue. But I heard the Boss remind her that her job was just to warm me up, and especially to get me lubricated -- and Heaven help her if she let me slip "over the edge".
So I was a machine now -- not even an animal any more -- to be got lubricated and ready for use. As a matter of fact, he often used to refer to us as his "sex machines".
"The orgasms come later," he warned Anne, "when they'll serve our purpose, not hers."
Chapter 7
"So are you ready for us now, Sweetie?" he crooned in that oily voice of his. And I almost said yes, I was so eager to continue the pleasant stimulation that Anne was applying, even though I had no idea in those days what they would lead to. But I knew that what he wanted to do was dirty, and might lead to disease or pregnancy, and I knew that it was wrong, and I shook my head.
He seemed to be happy that I refused. "OK, we go the next step," he grinned at the boys, and picked up the cane.
It was made of some sort of very flexible wood, and made a horrible WHOOSH! when he swept it through the air. I knew what he had in mind, with my legs stretched apart like that, and I started to beg him not to do it.
Well, he said, that's not quite what he wanted me to beg for, and he brought that damned cane down on my clitoris. I've never known anything else that hurt quite that much, and believe me, I've know lots of things that hurt an awful lot. So it didn't take more than that one stroke to make me beg him to rape me, but he hit me a few more times until I got the exact words just right (including the f-word, of course), and the tone of my voice sounding "like I really wanted it".
And then a couple more strokes "just for good measure".
And then he untied me, and warned me that he was going to make video tapes of what went on, and he wanted me to smile all the while, and make it look as if I loved every minute of it. And he made practice that silly smile until I got it right.
I almost puked when he told me what I was to do, but he just prodded me gently with that horrible cane -- Down There, of course -- and I agreed that yes, it would be a nice thing to do for him, and yes, I would probably be having as much fun as he would.
Chapter 8
Well, he told me what to do, and I did it, revolting though it was. I didn't want any more of that cane on my clit, thank you. First I begged him, although my voice broke as I used the F-word for the first time in my life, and then I took his clothes off, one by one. It wasn't much problem taking off his shirt and undershirt, but when I got to his fly I broke down for a minute.
His pinch was excruciating - the more so because of the recent caning - and it reminded me clearly of the fact that I would be caned again if I didn't do what he wanted. Swallowing the puke that was trying to come up my throat, I unzipped it, and peeled off his pants and his undershorts in one humiliating motion. And then he made me put my hand on his Thing, and stroke it while it got hard, which didn't take any time at all.
Now I had to cuddle up against him, with that revolting tool poking into my belly, and let him kiss me, poking his tongue deep into my mouth, and swabbing it around against mine. And then he made me do the same thing to him. This time he bit it, not enough to really hurt, but enough to impress on me how much it would hurt if he really put some force into it.
He told me then that he liked to have a girl caress his nipples all the time he was doing her; with her lips and tongue if they were available, and otherwise with her fingertips. I thought that was pretty queer, but you can guess that I didn't tell him that. I just got to work, tongue on one side, and fingers on the other, and shifting sides when he told me.
His Thing was a roaring monster by the time he told me to suck it up. Yeah, that's what he said -- SUCK it! Eew! It took another reminding pinch to get me to put my lips around it, and he warned me that if he even felt so much as a hint of his teeth, I'd get it, but good.
And then the moment of truth. He made me lie down on my back and spread my legs painfully wide, while he just looked at me for a couple of minutes, and then just kneeled between my legs.
He warned me to get my fingertips going on his nipples again, and reminded me that there would be a painful punishment if I stopped even for an instant, no matter what the reason.
And then he pressed the end of his Thing against the slit of my vagina (and now I was glad about that lubrication that Anne had arranged for me) and shoved it in.
Chapter 9
I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, and said a little prayer to myself. I had known ever since I understood about such things that this was the worst thing that could happen to a girl - they used to call it a Fate Worse Than Death - unless she was married, which somehow made it all right. I could understand part of that - if a girl got pregnant (I understood that much about IT in those days), nobody would ever forgive her if she did it before she had a father for the baby. But our teacher had told us that there were ways to keep from getting pregnant, but it was still wrong to go all the way before you were married.
And I believed it. I found out that they were wrong about one thing, though - there were other things that were worse - a lot worse - than getting pregnant, and I experienced most of them. Well, maybe not most. Every time I thought that I had seen the worst possible, that bastard would come up with something worse.
Anyway, worst or not, it was pretty grim - what teacher would have called traumatic, sure, but just purely painful, as well. He twisted my nipples brutally "just to remind you what your fingers are supposed to be doing", and then his big hands glommed onto my little breasts and squeezed the daylights out of them. He stopped just before I blacked out, and let me recover just a moment, and then started pushing in.
It started hurting immediately, as the tissue stretched almost to the breaking point.
Almost. He had had enough experience so he could judge down to the ounce how much force my cherry could stand, and he knew to the width of an eyelash how far he could push without breaking it.And after pushing to that magical point of almost, he would pull back and let the pain disperse itself through my body, amusing himself by squeezing my breasts while he regrouped for the next push.
And now and then he would use this moment of relaxation to make another probing examination of my mouth with his tongue.
Chapter 10
Well, I knew that he couldn't keep up that teasing forever. I could tell from the quickening of his breathing and the urgency of his thrusts, as well as the increased agony as he squeezed my breasts even harder, that it wouldn't be long now. And it wasn't.
With one last savage thrust, he literally tore his way into me. The blazing pain of the tearing tissue obscured for a moment the mental anguish of the destruction of all my childhood dreams of chastity, and his cruel laugh left no doubt as to how much he enjoyed the moment.
The pain subsided a little after that, but my abused clitoris still hurt like fire as he rubbed back and forth against it, and he kept up the assault on my aching breasts. (No danger of my spoiling his sport by orgasming prematurely.) Until that final moment, when one last spasm told me in no uncertain terms that he had spilled his venom into me.
But that wasn't the worst, as I was soon to learn. He muttered something about the boys not liking "sloppy seconds", and they strapped me onto that damned framework again. I supposed that he was going to douche me out, but was I ever wrong!
He used a thing that looked like (and was, I learned later) one of those toy darts that kids shoot -- with a rubber suction cup at the end, that sticks onto the target. Putting in something (I didn't see it exactly) that kept my vagina stretched open -- all the way in -- he started actually sweeping the walls with the edge of the suction cup. Like a windshield-wiper, he joked.
That's where I learned first-hand about the G-spot that the girls used to talk about. But with the rough way he was brushing it (I'm sure he did it on purpose), it was more irritating than pleasant. And that was a bit of knowledge that was going to be brought back to me time and time again during the years that I was a member of his "herd".
And suddenly I realized what his game was -- he was sweeping the filthy mess *inward*, toward my cervix, and using the cup to force it actually through the cervix, into my womb!
He laughed at the dirty name I called him, and gave me the whole sadistic scoop. "We've had Cathy and other friends making careful observations of your behavior over the past weeks," he pointed out, "and we calculated that this was the time of the month when you were most likely to take seriously what we were poking at you in fun."
He actually was trying to make me pregnant!
Chapter 11
He was deliberately trying to make me pregnant, and there wasn't a thing in the world I could do about it.
Except pray. I tried that, but I'm afraid that it was too late for prayer, in a situation like that.
"It's actually for your own peace of mind," he went on, with that cruel twisted logic of his. (I don't think he really believed it -- he was just twisting the knife.) "Just like breaking your cherry, so you won't have to worry about losing it every time you take a lover. If you're already pregnant, you won't worry about getting knocked up every time you get screwed.
"But it's not as bad as you think," he went on. "If you behave -- mind you, *IF* you behave -- we'll fix you up with a relatively painless abortion before it gets to the point where everyone will know. On the other hand, if you don't obey the rules completely, we'll just let Nature take its course until you're thoroughly disgraced among your family and the neighbors, and then when we kidnap you to become a resident member of our whore corps, everybody will think that you ran away because of the shame.
"But in either case, we won't stop your pregnancy until your body has started the process of lactation, which we can keep up after the abortion with doses of prolactin.
"It's important getting you into milk production" he went on. "First, it'll give you a sexier figure -- look at Cathy's, for example -- and second it'll make you much more desirable as a sex partner in other ways, as there are lots of things a man can do to a lactating tit that will hurt much more than anything he can do to an empty one. And of course he can always get a refreshing sip of milk while he's making love to you."
Boy, was that ever gross! But the Boss wasn't finished yet.
"And a healthy young broad like you will be a valuable addition to our dairy herd," he went on. "There's a very lucrative market among the Smart Set," he pointed out, "for human milk and milk products, like cheese and yogurt." Jeepers, how revolting! Just like a cow!
"Plus our Leche parties, where the cocktail girls are always ready to supply a sip of milk, right from the tap, as it were. Or our formal dinners, where the serving wenches have an unfailing supply of milk for the coffee or tea. All the guest has to do is aim and squeeze.
"And of course, the girls are also available for entertainment after dinner," he pointed out. "Or even before dinner is over, if they just can't wait. The other guests always get a kick out of watching someone spread a girl out on the table and do her right in front of God and everybody. Sometimes it develops into a real gang bang," he grinned.
"And one other little item," he went on. "Before a girl is admitted to our herd, she submits her milk for judging. Sort of like a wine-tasting event, except that the judges of wine don't usually drink right from the press. And instead of awarding medals, we mark the girl herself -- right on the breast, which we think is the most appropriate place. Show her, Cathy," he prompted.
Soundlessly, Cathy exposed her breast, showing the grading, neatly located underneath her breast, where the fold usually kept it hidden. The burn had completely healed, but my head reeled at the thought of how painful it must have been when they branded her.
Chapter 12
Well, then he started giving me instructions again.
There were several times during his little speech that I almost puked, but I managed to keep it under control, don't ask me how. And the worst was yet to come.
Waving his penis in front of my eyes, he started to croon in that sickly sweet tone of voice again.
"Look at the mess you've left on John Henry," he complained. "Now, we can't have that, can we? No indeed, we can't. You're not finished with your lover until you've cleaned him off."
"But you never gave me a chance . . ."
"Now's your chance, Baby." And he left no doubt as to what he meant, as he pushed the revolting thing up against my lips. "After all," he went on, "you won't always have any other cleaning instruments handy, so you might as well learn to use what Nature gave you. And Heaven help you if I get even so much as a touch of your teeth."
He twisted my nipples by way of warning, and I found that I could clean him off very nicely, thank you.
"And now to finish cleaning you . . ."
This time it wasn't nearly so gross. He had some huge swabs -- they looked exactly like ear swabs, only about an inch in diameter -- which he dipped in some liquid that cleaned the surface of my vagina, and gave it a mildly bracing feeling. And a very lightly perfumed smell.
I thought I was ready for my next rape, (I had no doubt about what the other boys had in mind), but he had to have a little more fun first.
"Report card time!" he announced. I found that this was to be a part of the ritual every time a customer took me. The client would recite a list of ways in which my performance had been "inadequate", and then administer whatever punishment he (or she) thought was appropriate. And often this roused the customer to the point of further dalliance, of course. Followed by another report card session...
I forget all of the things he found wrong with my performance, but they included:
- Not looking eager enough (and happy enough) to please ("If these videotapes are going to sell, you've got to be convincing. When we want you to look unhappy, we'll give you something to be really unhappy about...")
- Having to be told what to do to warm him up, and having to be told to clean him off afterward ("You ought to be woman enough to know these things instinctively. Anyway, you know now. And if you're wise, you'll ask your lover what special behavior he wants before you start. As a matter of fact, you're going to keep a journal - in your own handwriting - of what each of your lovers prefers. No need to identify him in the book, of course, except by a code that will remind you when you look him up in preparation for your next date with him.")
- Interrupting my stroking of his nipples a couple of times ("I don't care if it did itch, or if you had to move to ease the pain. You're performing for my happiness, rather than yours.")
And the punishment consisted of another caning, of course. Right in the same place.
Chapter 13
I don't think that I've ever got a perfect grade from one of my customers, no matter how hard I've tried. And believe me, have I ever tried! OK, so some of them have grudgingly admitted that my performance was "pretty good", but have grumbled that it could have been better (no particulars), just so they would have an excuse for a punishment session.
Some of them seemed to like the punishment better than the sex itself, and every last of them had to inflict pain along with the sex. I don't know whether it was the "policy of the House", or whether it was just that the Boss catered especially to that kind of clientele.
Probably a little of both. Certainly the atmosphere of the "workrooms" was designed to arouse any latent sadism that might be present in the customers.There was that restraint framework, for instance, where they could strap a girl into any position. And there were whips and paddles and other goodies hung in plain sight on the walls, where the customer could just reach out and grab them. Or better yet, have me take them down from their hooks and pass them to the customer. And of course, just the sight of them would often give the john ideas -- as if he didn't have enough of them already!
And there were all sorts of visual aids -- pictures of girls servicing their customers, usually in obvious agony. And pictures of the agony without the sex. Videotapes, too, where the customer and I could sit as if in a theater, with him holding my hand (or other part of my body, of course). Even popcorn, if he wanted it.
I say "he", because the majority of my lovers were men, but there were plenty of women, too. And they really knew how to hurt a girl.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. For the moment, there were those schoolmates of mine to take care of.
Chapter 14
Well, those kids were an anticlimax, after the professional job the Boss had done on me. For one thing, my sensibilities were pretty much numbed by now, so the degradation was more or less a matter of routine. In fact, the Boss had to warn me (just once) that my performance must not become perfunctory ("the johns aren't paying for a chunk of cold meat"), but must always be characterized by one extreme or the other -- either I must be friendly, co-operative, even eager, smiling warmly under the ordeal, and actually begging for more, as if I really liked it; or, more often, I was to beg, and struggle, and scream, as if I were suffering the horrors of Hell. More often the latter -- far more often. And that was easier, in a sense, because it didn't take any acting ability at all.
But this time, he wanted the friendly approach, as if I really enjoyed what I was doing; or at least as if I were being handsomely paid for servicing my young friends. And that did take some acting ability. But you'd be amazed how expert an actress I became with nothing but that whip to help me!
Well, the guys did show some originality, but they were so eager to get it off that they didn't take time to hurt me an awful lot, and the videotapes of my performance mostly looked as if we were both having a good time. Which is what they wanted, of course. When a guy showed the still shots from those tapes around school, he wanted it to look like he was the Great Kahuna, and not like somebody who was just lucky enough to have access to a girl he could torture into submission.
They were still creative at "report card" time, though, and managed to find excuses to whip me again, no matter how hard I tried. And the Boss squeegeed out my vagina every time, of course. No use letting all that precious fluid, that Nature had produced for this very purpose, go to waste.
And after the guys had finished, there was still Cathy to be taken care of. I don't think that she really enjoyed it any more than I did, but she had learned a lot about acting -- learned it the hard way, of course, just as I was learning it -- and I'm sure that the tape looked as if we were both having fun.
So when I had finished doing Cathy, the Boss had her do me, something I had never expected. Of course the orgasm lost a lot of its pleasure from the fact that I was still starring in a video movie, and from the fact that the boys were all watching, shouting things like "go, baby!" and like that, but it was still sort of pleasant. In spite of the lingering pain from the whippings.
Until the Boss pointed out that sure it was nice to have the tape of me enjoying a Lesbian episode, but also my contractions would help suck all of that semen into my womb, and increase the chances of my becoming pregnant.
Chapter 15
Eventually, the boys went home, and the Boss said it was time to "get down to business". I guess that he didn't think that what I had been doing had been "business" enough!
For starters, he made me start my "order book" - one page for each boy (and for himself, of course) - telling in lurid detail what they had wanted, and what I had done for them.
That was the way I've been able to write this journal - every chance I've had, I've set aside a sheet of paper, and written down a description of the episodes just as they happened, and hidden them where nobody can find them. I can usually manage to get hold of only one sheet at a time, and that's why each "chapter" has been so short.
And after I had finished writing up the first day's adventures (in my own handwriting, as he insisted), he handed me a preview of what the boys were going to want tomorrow. I didn't expect to get much sleep that night - if I ever got home at all - knowing that I had all those gross things waiting for me.
By now it was starting to get late in the afternoon, and the Boss finally said it was time to go home - after I got ready. "Ready" meant first an enema ("so you won't have to take the butt plug out"), and then the butt plug itself. A very special butt plug, that slowly and relentlessly kept swelling, stretching me painfully. The Boss said that it wouldn't keep on expanding forever - that it would just grow until it stretched my rectum to the point where I could do the things that tomorrow's customer wanted, and then it would just hold that size until I got used to it.
He didn't tell me what the dildo was for - just shoved it in as a matter of course, and told me that I could take it out when I got home, if I wanted to, but that I must always be wearing it when I showed up for "work". There was no question about my wanting to take it out - it was designed for irritation, rather than for pleasure.
And there was no question about my feeling it, either - one of the boys had "fixed up" my bike so that it gave the most possible vibration all the way home - and Cathy rode home beside me, to make sure that I didn't get off and walk the bike. | 3 |
7,632 | Newhart: The Made Maid | "Stephanie, I never said you weren't pretty. I just said that some men prefer, well, different types of women," Joanna grunted as she lifted a sack of potatoes from the car. "You can't expect every man to drool over you."
Stephanie continued to sort through the brown grocery bags, searching for the one with the lightest load. "And why not, Joanna? You don't really expect me to believe those boys were looking at you in THAT way, do you?"
Joanna, a tall, slim woman of about 40, pushed a wisp of hair away from her face with the back of her hand as she leaned against the door of the inn she and her husband ran. As usual, she wore simple clothes -- a bright wool sweater and a pair of brown slacks. The clothes weren't sexy themselves, but the way Joanna filled them out gave them a special appeal. The horizontally striped pattern of the sweater accented the swell of her large breasts, and the curve of the slacks hinted at the long legs and tight ass beneath them.
She paused a few moments to get her breath back -- she had made 10 trips back and forth from the car to Stephanie's one -- before turning to the young maid. The irritation in her voice was barely veiled. "Stephanie, why can't you admit that those boys were whistling at me? They were looking right at me. It's not the first time that's ever happened to me, you know."
Stephanie faced Joanna, hands on hips. She was shorter and clearly much younger, with a pert, expertly made-up face and a halo of blond hair. The short, cream skirt she wore showed off her perfectly shaped legs, and it was clear from the outline of her white blouse that she was in excellent shape, although her breasts were certainly not as large as the older woman's. Her coral-pink lips were drawn into a pout as she spoke. "I'm sure," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The bag boys probably want you to have their babies all the time. But I still say the ones who whistled were aiming at me. They must have just been looking at you to figure out if -- oh, I don't know, to figure out if you were my mom or something. Let's face it, Joanna, you're no spring chicken."
With an exaggerated sigh, Joanna pushed past the younger girl and picked another bag from the trunk. "Let's just forget it, Stephanie."
The maid fished a bag out of the back seat; it contained only potato chips and a loaf of white bread. She trailed Joanna to the back door, waiting while the other woman put down her load of canned goods and opened the screen door.
A few minutes later, when they were both busy putting stuff away, Stephanie started up the argument again. "I just think it's time you faced the facts, Joanna," she said. "A girl like me -- beautiful, slim, young, rich -- I can get any man I want. They would be lined up 12 deep at my bedroom door if I didn't make it clear I wasn't interested. Why, you know, that's probably why those boys weren't looking at me! They saw that I was too good for them, so they were afraid to look me in the eye when they whistled." She nodded her head to punctuate the thought.
Joanna stretched to put some beans on a top shelf. Over her shoulder, she said, "You can believe what you want, Stephanie. But we both know that a lot of men like a woman with more, well, more development. I've had my share of wolf whistles. With this chest, I have to expect it."
She gathered up several boxes of cereal -- pointedly holding them in a basket of her arms, presenting her breasts as if on a platter. "And let's face it, Stephanie. You're young and pretty, but you just don't have the shape that a lot of men want."
The young maid's eyes blazed, but she didn't say a word. Turning abruptly on her heel, she stomped out of the kitchen. Joanna called after her to no avail; with a sigh, she finished putting away the groceries herself.And you've never given me a neck massage. Come to think of it, no one's ever given me -- a little more to the left. That's it.
Her probing fingers erased the concern from his mind, and Dick closed his eyes and sagged back against the chair. She was very good at this, he noticed; he could feel the tension draining out of him as she rubbed away at his neck and shoulders.
"There's a little teensy-weensy knot right here," Stephanie said, rubbing hard at a spot just below his right shoulder blade. "I think I need to get a little closer to it. Do you mind?" As she spoke, her hands slipped around Dick's sides, and she unbuttoned his shirt. He leaned forward a bit to help her pull it down, and then settled back again as she went to work on the trouble spot. Her hands felt warm on his flesh as she kneaded away.
"That's perfect," Dick sighed. Stephanie then began scratching his back with her long nails. Little shivers of delight rolled like waves through his body. He was so lost in pleasure that he didn't really notice when her hands strayed from his back and began tracing a path across his stomach, down to his belt buckle. It was only when Stephanie undid the buckle, simultaneously slipping a hot, wet tongue into his ear, that Dick came to with a start.
"Stephanie, what are you doing?" She had undone his pants and slid down the zipper before he could get a grip on the desk's edge and spin himself around. When he had spun halfway around, his feet slammed into the floor, stopping the twist abruptly.
Stephanie stood before him almost completely naked, clad only in a lacy white garter belt, sheer white hose, and her shiny high heels. Her perky young breasts stood out firm and erect, with the dainty aureoles capped by perfect nipples. Her lips were parted slightly, forming a pout that seemed much sexier than Dick had ever noticed it being before.
Before he could say another word, she stepped toward him. "Touch me, Dick," she commanded in a husky whisper. "I want you. I want you now."
"You want me?"
"You know I do," she said, and pointed at his crotch. "And you want me, too." He couldn't deny it. His boxers were tented high as his stiff cock strained at the restriction. Dick licked his lips and stared. She seemed too good to be true, all that lush young flesh. It was like a dream.
He didn't know what to do first, but Stephanie took his hands in hers and brought them to her breasts.
"Do you like my breasts, Dick? Are they big enough for you? They're not too small, are they?"
"No! They're -- they're perfect." He squeezed them, thrilling to their firmness. She had the tits of a teenager, and it had been a long time -- well, actually, he'd never felt a teenager's tits.
As he groped, Stephanie tugged his shorts down, freeing his cock to wave in the air like a fat flagpole. At her touch, he shied away, but she gently placed both hands around his shaft. Her touch was warm and soft; her hands had obviously never done hard labor. Dick felt a few drops of pre-cum ooze out the tip as she caressed his rod.
"That's a very nice cock you have, Dick," Stephanie whispered. "I like men with nice, big, hard cocks. Do you know what I like to do when I get one? Do you?"
"No," he stammered out, his eyes still fastened to her chest.
"Ooooh, I like to touch it, like this. I like to rub my hands up and down and feel that nice, hard cock rubbing against my fingers. And do you know what else I like to do?"
He could only shake his head.
"I like to lick that long, stiff cock all over with my hot tongue. And then I like to put that cock in my mouth and suck on it, up and down, until it spurts out cum all over my face."
As she talked, Stephanie continued to rub his cock. Dick's hands had fallen back, and his eyes were closed as he felt nothing but the sensation of her fingers on his shaft.
"Would you like me to do that, Dick? Would you like me to put that hard cock of yours in my little mouth? Would you..."
"Yes! Yes, yes, oh God, yes!"
Stephanie knelt down before him and gently pressed his legs apart. She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock before opening her lips and taking him into her mouth. Her lips closed around the shaft, gripping it tightly, while her fingers circled the base and continued to pump. The combination of the sight of her beautiful naked body and the feel of her hot lips on his shaft didn't take long to get to Dick, and within minutes, he was moaning as white jets of cum shot out of his cock. True to her word, Stephanie swallowed them all, even licking the head of his rod to get the last few drops.
Dick felt drained, and he sagged back in his chair. But Stephanie appeared perky as ever, rising to her feet only to plop herself down onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a long, deep kiss on his lips. An orgasm usually left him feeling sleepy, but her kiss quickly revived him. He slipped one arm around her slim waist, letting the other hand fall to her silky bush. She wriggled in delight as his fingers tickled their way to her slit, already moist with secretions.
Stephanie's obvious delight in his actions made Dick feel like a kid again -- like the lover he never was. Tenderly, then with more and more passion, he drove his fingers into her slit as her pussy juices coated them. All the while, they kissed and suckled each other.
"Oh, Dick, that's so good," she whispered in his ear. "Oh, god, do you know what else I want to do now?"
Dick had to take a deep breath before he could answer. "What would that be?"
"I want to fuck you," she said simply, and the words sent a jolt through him even more than when her lips had first closed on his cock.
"But I can't do it so soon..."
"Yes you can," she giggled. To his surprise, Dick realized it was true; he could feel his cock beginning to swell anew.
"And I really want to fuck you, Dick. I want that hard cock inside my pussy. I want to ride it so hard! And you're going to make me cum, Dick. I can feel it. You're going to make me cum so hard! Won't that be fun!"
With one last long, deep kiss, Stephanie twisted around so that her back was against Dick's chest, and his cock was poking up between her legs. She had to stroke it only a little while before it was once again stiff. With Dick holding her tightly around the waist, she lifted herself up and scooched forward, putting her soaking wet pussy lips directly above his shaft. In one long, slow, fluid movement, she lowered herself and buried his cock in her up to the hilt. Dick pressed his mouth to her neck to muffle his scream of ecstasy as he felt her tight cunt walls enfold his rod.
"Ooooh, it's as good as I thought it would be," Stephanie cooed, while she wiggled around on the stiff cock. She began to pump away at it, bathing it in her secretions, squeezing it with her pussy lips. Guttural grunts escaped Dick's lips as his hands reached up to squeeze her pert breasts.
Stephanie bent her head around to plant a wet kiss on his face. "Do you like this, Dick? Am I doing OK?"
"Perfect," he managed to get out. "Perfect. Just -- perfect."
It was almost too much effort to speak now; he wanted to concentrate only on the incredible sensations. Stephanie's body felt as light as a feather on his lap, but her cunt's attack on his cock was strong and determined. He had never imagined their stuck-up maid could be such a sexual being. She was a goddess, and he was worshiping eagerly at the temple of her body, driving his cock into her as a sacrifice to her beauty. Or at least that was one of the mental images flooding his lust-crazed mind as they continued to rut away with abandon, the desk chair squeaking beneath them.
"You're doing it, Dick," Stephanie said with a gasp. "Oh, god, you really are! You're going to make me cum! I can feel it! I can feel it! I can aaaaaaauuuuggghhhh!"
Stephanie's flailing orgasm brought on his own, and another surge of cum shot out of his cock, this time filling the girl's hot pussy and oozing out the sides to mingle with her own gush of fluids, pouring down his cock and onto the seat. With his last reserves of strength, Dick drove his faltering cock into her cunt once, twice, a third time, squeezing the last bit of jism from it before his rod shriveled and his muscles gave out.
Just a few seconds later, Stephanie rose off of him and briskly slipped her clothes back onto her sweaty body. Dick sat in a rapidly cooling puddle of their fluids, too exhausted to move.
"We've got to clean this up," he called out weakly as Stephanie moved toward the door. "What if Joanna..."
"Sorry, Dick, it's my lunch hour now," the young girl said saucily, closing the door behind her.
As Stephanie stepped out from behind the front desk, with her hands on the top button of her blouse, Joanna came into the lobby, pushing her way through the door from the dining room.
"Stephanie, where have you been? I had to put all those groceries away by myself. And it turns out we forgot to get the steaks and things for the special dinner we promised the Fergusons Saturday -- you remember, the anniversary couple? You'll just have to -- Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Oh, Joanna, Joanna, Joanna, you poor dear woman."
Joanna ignored the comment -- a typical Stephanieism, she thought. "What was I saying? Oh, yes, you'll have to -- stop that!"
Stephanie paused with her hand halfway to another pat of Joanna's shoulder."I'm sorry, Joanna, it just makes me feel so sorry for you to see how wrong you were."
"About what?"
"About how some men prefer women who are, you know, over-endowed? As opposed to well-built, perfectly shaped young women like, well, like me."
"Stephanie, I don't know what you're talking about, but you're going to have to..."
"Oh, Joanna, you silly thing! Of course you know what I'm talking about. Our little conversation in the kitchen? You..."
"I remember, Stephanie, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Just this, Joanna. You said that I wasn't enough for some men. But I know at least one man who's had a chance to compare you and me, and I know exactly who he prefers. 'Perfect,' he called me. More than once."
Just then, Dick poked his head out of the door to the den. "Steph-- Oh, hi, Joanna. Uh, say, do we have any, uh, Lysol?"
"Lysol?" Joanna was beginning to think the whole inn was going crazy around her -- not that that was unusual. "Why in the world do you need..."
"Oh, no reason," Dick said, "but d-d-do we have any?"
"In the basement, I think," Joanna began, "but I still don't understand..."
Not waiting for her to finish, Dick scuttled across to the basement door and disappeared down the steps. Joanna, who had started across the lobby to talk to him, slipped behind the front desk, her face in a frown. "Now what could he have..." As she spoke, she opened the door to his den and took half a step inside. "Good heavens, this room smells like a whorehouse!" She slapped a hand to her mouth. "Not that I have any idea what that smells like, of course, I mean..."
Stephanie, giggling, was leaning on the other side of the reception desk. "Now do you understand what I was talking about, Joanna?"
The older woman's face grew dark red. "You, you, you," she spluttered, unable to say more.
"That's right, Joanna. Little, young, petite, 'perfect' me. Guess you were wrong about what men want, weren't you?"
She snatched out of Joanna's hand a small sheet of paper. "Steaks, baking potatoes -- oh, I get it, you need this from the market. Well, I think I'll leave you to think about what happened, Joanna. Bye!" On her way to the door Stephanie intercepted Dick climbing up from the basement. "Come on," Stephanie said, slipping a hand around his back. "You can drive me into town."
"Oh, but I have to..."
"Don't worry, Joanna won't mind! Will you, Joanna?" Stephanie smirked toward the desk, where the older woman was standing stock still, her mouth half open. "See? Joanna doesn't mind. Oh, and say, Joanna, if Michael calls, be a love and tell him I'll be back in a couple of hours, won't you?"
The door slammed behind her just as Joanna thought of the perfect comeback. She almost spat it out anyway, but the phone's insistent ring interrupted her train of thought. | 4 |
7,652 | The Review: Chapter 2 - The Bedroom Window | "She's at it again, isn't she?" Janet said as she stepped up behind me.
"Well, this time her husband is with her," I said as I gazed through the bedroom window.
"The woman is a machine, I swear!" Janet said as she peeked over my shoulder. "Look at them flirting with each other. Well, we both know where this is leading, don't we?"
"They do seem to enjoy their sex, and she definitely seems to enjoy that computer," I mumbled. "But come now, you enjoy it every bit as much as I do. It's like having a cable sex channel without the expense."
"And she's given you a horribly distorted view of women," Janet said as she slid her hand down under my pants, rubbing my swollen cock. "Not everyone can sit at a computer for hours at a time with their hand on their pussies and then fuck their husband until midnight when he comes home."
"Well," I said, taking her other hand and kissing the fingertips lightly, "I guess this block is just lucky to have two such women living right next door to each other."
"Not me, dearest. I save myself for you," she replied as her hand wrapped itself around my cock. "Oh-ho! I guess the show's over, lover boy. They got a phone call."
I turned around, a bit disappointed, but with Janet's hand still wrapped around my cock, not too disappointed. "Guess you're right. Looks like it's just you and me tonight." I couldn't help but grin at that, after all, this was hardly a consolation prize.
"You'd think after all this time she'd have seen us peering in and closed the shades," Janet said as she began to unbuckle my pants.
"I don't know, she usually looks pretty preoccupied. But maybe she just doesn't mind if we see her," I said as I slowly began to unbutton her blouse.
"Ohhh. That's naughty. She might even get a thrill at the idea. Oh my God!"
"What?"
"Turn around! Her husband is giving her a head job while she's on the phone!"
I turned around and laughed. "Well, now that's my idea of phone sex!" I stepped around behind my wife and resumed the job of undressing her as I watched the couple in the house next door. "They certainly seem to have a healthy marriage, don't they?"
"Very," Janet gasped, as aroused as I was by the sight or maybe it was my hand wrapped around her breast -- after five years, you learned how to push your partner's buttons, and it was so easy when those buttons were nicely erect.
"I wonder who she's talking to?" I asked.
I could hear her smiling as she answered. "Probably Rose. I just got off the phone with her; she's calling all the parents in town, bitching about how Disney is corrupting the youth of America."
"You know Celeste loves her jokes. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest," I said as I ran my hand down to her pussy. Janet was more than hot, the erotic view and my attentions had more than worked their magic.
By now, I had pretty much lost interest in the view from the window, preoccupied with the view of my lovely wife. I knelt down and began running my tongue through her pussy lips until she got the idea and leaned over and spread her legs. "Ohh, that's so nice," she moaned. "It's so damn sexy watching them go at each other with you down there."
"Mrrrf," I agreed.
In such situations, I usually manage to keep track of the time only by the number of orgasms Janet has. Rose talked for two orgasms before Janet said, "Oh! She couldn't. She wouldn't!?"
"Wrmf!?" I asked.
"She's taking her husband up the ass!" Janet said, still rather shocked at the idea.
I finally pulled away and stood up to get a better view. Well, not better, let's say different. "She obviously loves her husband more than you love yours," I said coyly.
"Maybe my husband loves my pussy more than he likes hers," she said pointedly.
I had to laugh. Janet and I had tried everything under the sun at one point, but anal sex was not on her favorites list. Her hand had wrapped itself around my cock again, stroking slowly to keep me interested, not that I really needed much prompting. "She certainly looks like she's enjoying it."
"She would," Janet said dryly. "One more thing for me to try and live up to."
I kissed her neck and ran an appreciative hand around her breast. "You don't have to live up to anybody's standards but mine, dear, and you've never failed to do that."
"You say the nicest things, lover," she said as she increased the pressure around my cock. "Good thing I like it doggie style," she said suggestively, leaning forward again.
"Woof, woof!" I agreed as I slid into her.
Even after five years, this had never lost its appeal to me. Our exotic neighbors added a spice to our passions on occasion, but Janet to me always remained a full course meal. Every time I would hear from my friends and coworkers how boring their sex lives were, how their wives were uninterested or uninteresting, I thanked all my lucky stars for my wife. My neighbor might be discovering the joys of anal sex, but I was rediscovering yet again how perfectly Janet's pussy knew exactly what I enjoyed.
I lowered my hands to her waist, pressing my fingers into her flesh. There was a joy in the power and control of this position that added to the pleasures I was feeling from her moist, responsive pussy. Added on top of that was the perfectly unobstructed view of our next-door neighbors. Life does indeed have its moments. Janet's moans told me that she was having one of those moments as well.
I really didn't need all that much stimulation at this point. I had been aroused far too long; Janet and the erotic view all conspired to overwhelm my senses. I was not gentle in my orgasm; I didn't need to be. Janet was no delicate flower, and a little roughness only added to her pleasures on occasion. The orgasm was, as it always was with Janet, a thing of blinding intensity, an all-consuming rapture. As I came down, I came down to the sensations of Janet rocking back and forth on my still erect shaft as she followed her own pleasures. She was near, very near to her own. I raised her up, cupping my hands around her breasts, moving for her benefit, surely I could hold out just a little longer. It was enough. Her contractions around my cock, her moans, her shudders kept me aroused long enough for her own climax.
"You are so kind to me," she cooed as she reached back and ran her hand across my face.
"Looks like they're done for the night as well," I said, noting our neighbors had parted.
"You know, I think maybe I should call Celeste tomorrow and discuss this Rose situation," Janet said as I rested my chin on her shoulder.
"You wouldn't have an ulterior motive in mind now, would you?" I asked slyly, knowing immediately what she had in mind.
"Would you be so terribly disappointed if I did?"
I laughed. "I think I can be up for the task."
"Where are you going?""Janet asked as I stepped away.
"I just got an idea for a story," I answered with a wink.
"Do you really think the Internet would be interested in what you and I do together?" she asked.
"I don't know. But there's also a Celeste on the Internet who reviews these stories. This ought to be right up her alley."
Janet paused, looking as if she was rolling an interesting thought around, testing it for the feel of reality. "You don't think the Internet Celeste and our neighbor Celeste..."
It was a startling thought, and I considered it for a moment. "What are the odds?" I finally answered. But Janet had turned back around and was staring thoughtfully at our neighbor who had begun typing.
-- Sandman | 3 |
7,672 | Julie | "Well, I suppose we all do sometimes," Martha had asked me if I felt my life was in a rut.
"No, I'm serious, Julie. You don't seem to get excited about anything anymore."
"Well, life is...comfortable with Dave. I mean...we're getting along very nicely."
"You've got to *think* about this, Julie." That was all we said on the subject, but if you want to know the truth, she did make me think. I began to wonder if things could be a bit less routine in my life.
The next time we met, Martha was back on my case again: "Did you think about the possibility of getting out of the doldrums?"
"Oh, Martha, you exaggerate, but yes, I did think about it a bit."
"But you don't know what to do, do you?"
"Well, I haven't really thought about it too much as of yet."
"Hmm,...I know! Come with me!" Suddenly she was up and putting on her jacket! And motioning me to come along.
"Come where?" I asked.
"Just come along. You're being stodgy again." She was handing me my jacket. I guess I'm a pushover--I came along.
Once we were in her car and driving across town, I had more time to wonder what was up: "Where are we going?"
"I know just the thing to spice up your life," was her uninformative reply. Well, it *did* inform me to be on my guard.
"And what is *that*?"
"I know this guy! You'll..."
I cut her off short. "A guy!? Turn this car around!"
"No, listen! I *swear* this is exactly what you need!"
"What are you talking about!? You want me to *cheat* on Dave?"
"Oh, Julie, you don't need to be so uptight. We'll see him and... well Dave need never know. Just wait 'til you find out what he's like!"
"Martha! *Please* turn the car around! Uh, do you... *do it* with this guy?"
"Ah, ha! Julie gets curious! I swear he is exactly what you need. Different than Dave."
"What's wrong with Dave?"
"Nothing, Julie dear. But this guy will do things to you that Dave never will. And you can let him because you won't be seeing him every day."
"Things?"
"Oh, you'll find out! With your rear."
"*Martha!*"
"He'll make you *love* it. Wait and see."
What had I got myself into? We were turning into a driveway! My heart was beating like no tomorrow. I made myself take a deep breath and relax. I'd just say no. They weren't going to *rape* me. Would they? I tried to suppress the uncomfortable doubt.
We walked up to the door. I guess my curiosity got the best of me... I wanted to *see* this guy. Martha was doing it with him? Her rear? I *had* to know more.
A woman answered the door. Martha didn't seem perturbed at all and drew me into the front hall.
"Is your husband here?" Martha asked. She was craning her neck to look into the other rooms.
"Who is this?" the woman asked in return.
"Oh, this is Julie," replied Martha.
"And you brought her so Gary could do her ass?" I couldn't believe we were having this conversation! "Gary will be pleased! Yes, indeed!"
I just stared! And there was more to stare at than the conversation: the woman had reached out and touched Martha, on the chest! And Martha just stood there. "And did *you* come to take Gary's cock in your ass too, Martha?" Martha glanced at me and looked at the woman, but didn't pull away! The woman had run her hand down Martha's body to her skirt and lifted it so she could slip her hand under it. "*You* want his cock in your ass, don't you, Martha? You're not answering me, are you?"
"I...," Martha was tongue-tied. The woman had her hand under Martha's skirt and was obviously using it, and was unbuttoning Martha's blouse with her other hand!
The woman moved closer to Martha, so their faces were only inches apart. "You're going to let Julie watch, aren't you Martha?" Martha's blouse was already off and the woman had unhooked her bra and was undoing her skirt! Martha just stood there with her mouth open. "Julie's going to watch you beg him for it, Martha. Beg to suck it. Beg to take it in your ass." She had Martha nude except for her shoes, and slipped around behind her. She continued her talking over Martha's shoulder. "You *like* it in your ass, don't you Martha?" While saying *like*, she had jammed fingers right into Martha's behind.
"Yes," came Martha's reply in a breathy whisper. She no longer met my eyes. But I stared and stared. I thought about what I was going to see. There was no way I was going to walk out. | 6 |
7,674 | "Cindy's Audience" | "Wow, sweetheart! You look incredible!" David's jaw had almost dropped to the floor once he saw his beautiful young wife emerge from the bedroom. David had never seen Cindy dressed in something so tight and skimpy before - except before or during their lovemaking sessions. But this time it was different, because David knew that his 25-year-old wife would soon go out into public in that very provocative and sexy outfit.
"Thanks," Cindy smiled in return. She did a pirouette and added, "I'm glad you like it."
"Like it?" David gushed. "I LOVE IT!"
Cindy's outfit consisted mostly of an aqua-colored top and matching short-skirt, both of which were made of a very thin, stretchy material. Needless to say, the aqua-colored outfit displayed the considerable and luscious curves of her 38d-24-35 figure. Since the top was cut low, it displayed a generous amount of Cindy's ample cleavage. Her breasts were very large and firm, without any sag or give in them. Just like the top, the short-skirt fit Cindy's body like a tight glove. It went down to the mid-point between her hips and knees, and offered a wonderful view of her richly-tanned long legs. To complete the outfit, the beautiful young lady wore a pair of white high-heeled shoes which accentuated her firm, long legs even more.
Cindy had long, stylish blonde hair which went down to the center of her back. Even without smiling, there was no argument that Cindy had a beautiful face. But she looked even more appealing when she smiled. Since Cindy was a warm and pleasant person, the 25-year-old woman usually had a happy expression upon her lovely face.
David's eyes surveyed the incredible sight of his wife in that outfit and surmised, "If I knew that you weren't headed out for an acting audition, I'd take you back into the bedroom and make wild love to you all day long."
"Hmmmm," Cindy squealed, leaning over and pecking her husband's cheek with a kiss. "I'll have to take a rain-check on that, for another day."
"You better get going," David said. "The last thing you want to do is be late for this audition. If you land this part in the movie, that would be great."
"The audition is not for another four hours," Cindy told him. "I just decided to get ready for it a bit early."
"Early?" the man said, confused. "Early? You have to go now, Cindy. I don't want you here when the guys show up, to watch the football game."
"Why?" his wife giggled. "Because you'll be talking about 'guy things'? Come on, I have no place to go for four hours. I definitely couldn't go to a book store or the shopping center in this type of outfit. Where else could I possibly go?"
"I don't want you here, honey, because the guys who will be coming over to watch the game are a bit rowdy. I don't think you would like them."
"Oh, listen to you," Cindy smiled, flipping her hand at him. "I won't like them? I don't judge anyone because they scream or hoot and holler when their favorite football team scores a touchdown." She paused and giggled, "If that was the case, I'd have never married you!"
David shook his head and returned, "No, you do not understand. I would just feel uncomfortable with you and them here at the same time."
"I'm not leaving," Cindy insisted, "until it's time for the audition. You can try to change my mind, but it won't work." She turned and started strolling toward the kitchen. "Besides, I won't bother you guys. Neither you nor your friends will even know I'm here."
As David watched Cindy's round ass jiggle and twitch seductively with each and every step, he mumbled to himself, "Oh, I have a feeling they'll know you're here..."
Over the next hour, David's group of friends made their way to the apartment. All of them were his co-workers and were also very close to his age of 28. Alex had blond hair and a physically-fit body, thanks to many surfing sessions at the beach. Shawn's hair was brown and he had a slim but strong body. Kris had black hair and a handsome face, but just an average build. Tyrone had the best-looking body of the group. He was tall and attractive, and black. An African-American man, Tyrone was best friends with David.
The four guests expected to come over to David's place to get loud and rowdy for their favorite pro football team. None of them expected to find a blonde bombshell like Cindy; especially one dressed in such a tiny little outfit. They had never met David's wife before, and to no great shock, were extremely impressed with Cindy's beauty.
The young woman found herself giggling like a schoolgirl with some of the forward comments coming from the men. "Wow David, where have you been hiding this?" one man said. "What a fine-looking lady," another observed. "Too bad you're married, sweetheart," one of the men told her.
David figured his friends were just kidding, so he laughed while telling them to stop teasing his wife. The group finally relented, and made their way to the living room. The football game was just about to start.
Nonetheless, the compliments from the guys made Cindy feel very lightheaded and bubbly. She liked her husband's friends. As a result, the blonde decided that she was going to help them out until leaving for the audition.
David protested at first, but Cindy nonetheless wound up serving the guys drinks and snacks from the kitchen. It was her own idea, of course. None of the guys objected to having a "waitress" serve them food and refreshments. This way, they would not miss any action of the big game.
Over the next hour, the young wife must have made her way in and out of the living room 20 times. Instead of watching the television screen when Cindy was present, most of the eyes in the room were now focused on her large, firm breasts as they seductively bounced and wiggled with each step. If a set of eyes wasn't fixated upon her breasts, they were on her sweet ass, watching it twitch while she moved along.
"Why is your wife dressed that way?" Shawn asked David once Cindy left the room.
"She's an actress," David replied. "There is an audition later today, and she wants to look her best for it."
"Whoooo weeee," Alex commented, shaking his head. "If they are choosing actresses based on looks - in that outfit, your wife should be a lock for whatever role she wants." The other three guests all nodded their heads in agreement.
"Come on guys, watch the game," David insisted, shaking his head with a tiny smile. "Get your minds out of the gutter! That's my wife you're talking about!"
A short time later, Cindy was preparing a bowl of popcorn and some nachos when she heard a deafening cheer come from the living room - and not the television set. "Those guys," she laughed to herself. "The team must have scored a touchdown." The 25-year-old lady shook her head and added, "Ahh, men. Absolutely crazy for their sports."
When Cindy went back out to the living room, all eyes were on her again. While the four guests had explored nearly every subtle curve and shape of Cindy's hot body, they all wondered what she would look like without wearing that tiny outfit. An erection shot up in less than three seconds, in Alex's pants, once Cindy leaned over while handing him a bowl of nachos. Alex had received a clear, unobstructed view down the middle of her deep cleavage.
"I'm gonna go upstairs for a second," Cindy told her husband. "I'll be back soon."
"Okay," David replied.
Once Cindy turned and started walking toward the steps, all four guests turned their heads and watched her ass as it jiggled and swayed with each and every step.
"Stop it, guys!" David admonished once his wife went upstairs. They all looked back at him. "This is the last time we ever have a football party at my place."
"Ahh come on," Shawn said. "You know, Dave, you're enjoying this just as much as we are. You like showing off that hot wife of yours to us - it's like bragging."
"I'm not showing her off!" David told them. "I didn't even want her to be here!""I asked her to leave earlier."
"Bull..." most of the men chimed in, simultaneously.
At this point, Cindy was making her way down the steps. When she heard voices coming from the living room, the woman stopped and decided to eavesdrop.
"I'm glad she's here," Alex said with a toothy grin. "I much rather watch your wife than some football game."
"Damn it, guys..." David sighed. "Come on, stop..."
"What kind of actress is she?" Shawn asked.
"What do you mean?" David inquired.
"What kind of films does she go for?"
"Regular films," David told him. "I think this movie she is auditioning for today involves a night club scene." He paused and added, "Why do you ask?"
Shawn shrugged his shoulders and replied, "She reminds me of that hot blonde from the gang-bang movie we watched last week at Alex's house." Kris, Alex and Tyrone all nodded their heads in agreement at that comment. Meanwhile, still on the staircase, Cindy's eyes grew wide at that statement.
"Shut up, guys!" David told them. "I don't want you talking about my wife that way!"
"We wouldn't mind gang-banging Cindy," Kris smirked.
"GUYS!" David exploded. "STOP IT!"
"Dave would probably like to watch us do her," Alex joked.
"I've always thought you could find the most fascinating conversation while listening to men," Cindy remarked as she made her way back into the living room.
All of the guys turned and looked at Cindy, their jaws almost touching the floor in sheer embarrassment.
"Uhh... we're sorry, ma'am," Kris said apologetically. "We were just teasing your husband."
"Ahh..." David struggled to find the right words. It was difficult, since Cindy had a mean expression upon her face. "Honey, would you like it if I sent my friends home?"
Her arms folded, Cindy tapped a high-heeled foot upon the carpet while staring angrily at the group of men. "I've been real nice to all you guys, all afternoon, and this is the thanks I get for it? You compare me to some porno slut?"
"We're sorry," Shawn told her. "As Kris said, we were just teasing. Nothing serious. Please, it was just a joke."
Though angry on the outside, Cindy's insides were aglow with heat and excitement. No one had ever spoken about her, at least that she knew of, in such graphic terms. Those nasty words actually made her hot!
"Oh?" she commented, her anger loosening up. "Was everything that you guys said just a joke?"
All of the men looked at her quizically. David was the one who broke the silence. "What do you mean, honey?"
The young wife shrugged her shoulders and replied, "What was it you guys said?... You want to... yeah, you want to gang-bang me? Right?"
This time, everyone looked at her with shock. But the one most shocked was her husband, David. However, Kris broke the silence this time. "We'd love to gang-bang you."
"KRIS!" David exploded, in pure rage.
"Would you like that, honey?" Cindy asked her husband. "Would you like it if these guys gang-banged me?"
David's demeanor changed from rage to stunned disbelief. He looked at his wife - amazed at what she said.
"You probably would," Cindy quipped, "since you spent last weekend watching some gang-bang porno movie at Alex's house." She paused, surverying the stunned reactions around the living room. "I heard what you perverts said."
"I'm gonna send these guys home," David said cooly.
"You didn't answer my question!" Cindy remarked, raising her voice. "Would you like it if these guys gang-banged me?"
"If you would like it, yes, I would," came the words from David's mouth. A second later, he could not believe he had said that. Cindy was HIS; she was his prize possession. But on the other hand, it had always been a deep-rooted fantasy of David's to watch Cindy get fucked by a group of men. He often thought of what the scene would look like, while watching adult movies of this particular genre.
"If any of you guys want me, come and get me."
The four guests looked at each other, then Cindy, then each other again. They were all shocked. However, Kris was the first one to take the initiative. He stood up and started walking over to her.
"My pleasure, baby."
David looked on in stunned silence as he watched Kris take Cindy into his arms and smother her mouth with a kiss. He saw a brief exchange of tongues, then looked at the other guys. They too, were staring at the scene in front of them in sheer amazement. David never imagined that he could sit idly by and watch another man kiss his beloved wife.
Cindy whimpered and nearly melted in Kris' arms as the kiss grew stronger and deeper. Kris snaked a hand between their pressed bodies, and pawed away at one of her ample breasts, hidden underneath the tight top she still wore. Cindy squealed in arousal when Kris pinched one breast with a hand and used another to paw her bottom.
When Kris grabbed Cindy's short-skirt and pulled it up, past her waist, everyone had a clear view of her perfect ass and the string bikini-panties which hid less than 5% of it.
At this point, David jumped up and demanded, "Let her go, Kris! She is MY wife!"
"Hush David," Cindy admonished him, while breaking the kiss. "You said if I wanted to, I could have sex with these guys. Now sit back and enjoy the show." Her mouth went back to Kris' for another passionate kiss.
Defeated, David sat back down on the sofa. It was true. He did give her permission to carry on with these guys. His husbandly side was screaming at him, telling him to stop the scene before him from unfolding anymore. On the other hand, his erotic side was urging him to let it continue. Slowly, David's erotic side was gaining the advantage.
Shawn got up and decided to join the action. He walked over to Cindy and Kris, who were still embracing one another with their lips locked. He nudged up behind Cindy and pressed his bulging crotch against her backside. The pretty blonde sighed at the initial contact, then moaned as Shawn wrapped his arms around her from behind. His hands came to rest on her massive breasts, and he cupped and squeezed both through the top she wore in repeated succession.
Kris brought Cindy down to the floor with him, his lips still firmly attached to hers. He cupped her ass with his hands and pulled her body hard against his own, while kissing her deeper. Meanwhile, Shawn dropped to his knees behind Cindy, and thumbed her tiny bikini-panties down. He slipped her white high-heeled shoes off, then flicked both them and her bikini-panties away to the side.
David quietly sat on the sofa, a mixture of wild emotions still running throughout him. That was his WIFE on the floor, getting worked over by two guys. But at the same time, his cock was as big as it had ever been. It was so erect and hard that it felt as though it would explode in his pants.
As Shawn rubbed and caressed her supple ass from behind, Cindy broke the kiss with Kris and reached for his jeans. In a hurried rush, she unbuckled his belt and then pulled down his zipper. Her delicate hand dove inside his jeans, underneath his briefs, and gripped his rock-hard cock.
Cindy squealed with delight as she pulled Kris' jeans and briefs down, exposing his massive erection. Soon, she grasped the base of his cock and then slipped its fat, juicy head between her moist red lips.
Kris moaned in arousal as Cindy's blonde head started to bounce up and down over his erection. He looked down at her and smiled, then glanced over at David and grinned at him as well. "You're a very lucky man, Dave," Kris announced. "I'd give my right arm to have this lusty babe as my wife."
On her hands and knees with her bottom perched in the air, Cindy gave Shawn ample access to her pussy. Behind her, Shawn parted her slick pussy lips with two fingers and then drove his tongue inside. In response, Cindy sighed in utter lust. She had never taken part in two-on-one sex before; this was definitely something new - and exciting.
Shawn then grasped each side of Cindy's ass with his hands as he buried his lips and tongue in her moist pussy. Cindy glanced back at him for an instant, but immediately resumed sucking Kris' cock.
"I can't wait until I get my hands on her," Alex said to himself, sitting on an adjacent chair. He had already undid his pants and was openly stroking his erection.
On the other hand, Tyrone sat still and watched the action, but figured he would not get a piece of Cindy for himself. Tyrone was an African-American man, and though he had tried for years, no white woman ever wanted anything to do with him. Tyrone was very attracted to white women - especially ones with long blonde hair, like Cindy. But if no white female ever wanted to have anything to with him, why would Cindy be any different? That was Tyrone's line of thinking. He expected to just be a voyuer today.
Nonetheless, Tyrone was enjoying the show before him.
Cindy's head was bobbing up and down over Kris' cock at warp-speed, while her hips were wiggling back and forth in response to Shawn's oral work on her pussy.
Neither Kris nor Shawn could believe what they were doing. They came over here to watch the football game with David, but instead were in the process of making love to his hot wife! Even more, David was watching the action, too!
A loud chrous of moans and gasps were coming from the three individuals as the action got even more heated and passionate. Cindy was doing her best to swallow Kris' monster cock right down her greedy little throat. At the same time, Shawn was feasting on the sweet recesses of Cindy's juicy pussy.
Kris had already come to the conclusion that Cindy was giving him the best blowjob of his entire life. No one had ever given him a blowjob any better than this one, and she wasn't even finished yet.However, Kris brought the blowjob to a close when he could no longer contain himself. His cock erupted in her mouth, filling it with gush after gush of thick sperm. Kris sighed deeply at the discharge and was amazed at the same time by Cindy as she sucked and swallowed his fuck-juice down her hungry throat.
Still getting her pussy eaten from behind, Cindy slipped Kris' shaft out of her mouth and lovingly licked away at it. Kris gasped at the sight of Cindy's beautiful face as streams of cum dripped and dangled from it.
"Did you like that?" she squealed at him.
"Oh yeah," he sighed in return. "Oh, I loved it, baby. That was the best fucking blowjob of my life!"
Cindy smiled and giggled, happy to draw such praise for her sexual skills.
"I'm gonna fuck that sweet pussy of yours," Shawn said, as he withdrew his lips and tongue from her slit. But just when he was about to get himself into the doggie-style position, Shawn was yanked away by Alex. Shawn looked at him, angry. "HEY MAN! What are you doing?"
"You and Kris have already sampled her," Alex told him. "Now, it's my turn. You can fuck her later, but I'm going to fuck her NOW."
Alex had already stripped off his shirt and pants, and his cock was at full erection. He dropped to his knees behind Cindy as she stood on her hands and knees, then fisted his cock and nudged it against her pussy. Cindy squealed at the sensation - this was the first time a cock other than David's had touched her pussy since they started dating more than six years ago.
Alex grunted as he popped his erection into Cindy's tiny, slick pussy. In response, the young woman squealed again, surprised at the sensations swirling throughout her. Alex's cock was definitely bigger than her husband's, she thought to herself. As a result, Cindy was going to enjoy this.
On an adjacent chair, Tyrone felt very jealous. For the first time in his life, he really wished that his skin color was white instead of black. He wanted to get a piece of Cindy for himself, but figured she would not go for it. After all, no white woman had ever been attracted to him. He figured that before the day was through, Cindy would take care of the other guys in the room - all of whom were white. Unfortunately, Tyrone figured, he would be left in the cold.
Shawn sat still, fuming, as he watched while Alex started to pump his cock in and out of Cindy's pussy. He knew that should have been him fucking her now - not Alex. But Shawn knew that there were other parts of Cindy's body which he could explore and play with, while Alex pounded her pussy.
Thus, Shawn crawled around until he was sitting in front of Cindy, who was still in the doggie-style position, her body rocking back and forth in tune with Alex's thrusting hips. Shawn reached underneath her, then palmed her large breasts with his hands. Cindy looked up at him and grunted, then offered a charming smile.
"My, what a fine pair you have," Shawn said as he pulled the tight top up, exposing her large breasts. Shawn tilted his head and stared at the twin pair, liking the sight of an erect nipple topping each of them. Then, using his thumbs and index fingers, he pinched both nipples. Cindy squealed in passionate delight - she loved all this attention!
As Shawn continued to pay homage to Cindy's breasts, Alex kept up the pace by pounding into her from behind. He had his hands firmly planted on her bottom as he thrusted his cock in and out of her pussy, in the classic doggie-style position. Alex drilled her with all of his strength, his hips pumping back and forth harder and faster than he even previously thought possible.
David sat on the sofa, with the same stunned expression as before. His cock was so hard in his pants that it hurt. The repeated loud SLAPping sound, caused by Alex's heavy balls hitting Cindy's upturned ass, reverberated throughout David's ears and mind. Watching his beautiful, angel wife get hammered like this was the most exciting thing which had ever happened to him.
"I'M GONNA CUM!" Cindy screamed as Alex continued pumping into her from behind, while Shawn still pinched her nipples.
"CUM WITH ME!" Alex exclaimed. "LET'S CUM TOGETHER!"
Both individuals roared out in unequaled passion as they experienced mutual orgasms. Alex pumped his thick seed into Cindy's willing pussy, mixing it with her own release. The two shuddered together in shared lust for several seconds, until Alex pulled away. Next, the 25-year-old woman collapsed upon the floor, her breathing ragged and heavy.
As Shawn caressed Cindy's long, silky blonde hair, David finally got up from the sofa and rushed over to his wife. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" he insisted, fearful that she may be hurt. After all, she had collapsed upon the floor and was gasping for breath. He had never seen her this way after a sexual encounter.
"I'm okay," Cindy managed, in response to his question. "But I'd feel a lot better if I could have some more cock!"
David's jaw almost hit the floor because of her lewd comment. She usually did not talk that way.
Cindy's head rose from the floor and she looked at her husband. "Hmmm, three guys have had me already. You have four friends here... which one am I missing?" She glanced around the room and gasped once her blue eyes found Tyrone.
Tyrone gasped as well - due to the lust-ridden eyes which Cindy intently stared at him with. Was a beautiful white woman actually hot for him?
"What do you think about white pussy?" Cindy squealed as she rose to her knees. She started moving toward Tyrone, a sexy smile on her face. "Have you ever had sex with a white woman before?"
Suddenly, Tyrone's cock was bigger than it ever had been before. He never dreamed of that this scenario would take place for real - not even in his wildest fantasies.
"Ma'am," the polite-sounding man said. "I've never been with a white girl before - sexually speaking."
Still walking on her knees toward him, Cindy flashed a charming smile and said, "Would you like to?"
"HONEY!" David exclaimed. "You want to have sex with Tyrone, too?"
"Why not?" Cindy giggled. "I've always had a thing for black men." She made her way up to Tyrone and stared directly into his eyes. "I find black men... ATTRACTIVE."
Tyrone gasped in utter shock at her comment.
"I... I... I'd love to have sex with you..." he mumbled.
Tyrone's body stiffened and he sighed as Cindy reached for his belt buckle and unlooped it. She whipped his belt off, then nearly tore open his trousers. With her right hand, she fished his erect shaft out from within a pair of boxers, and squeezed it.
"Oooooh, black cock..." Cindy squealed as she eyed and held the huge monster. The young woman gave the tip of his shaft a lick and added, "I've always wanted a black cock..."
All of the other men in the room watched with amazement as Cindy's mouth opened and then closed over Tyrone's giant cock. They had never witnessed interracial sex before, but were quickly becoming a fan of it. Of particular interest was the strict contrast of Cindy's white face and blonde hair as they hovered over Tyrone's throbbing black shaft. The extreme contrast in color nearly blew the men away.
For the longest time, Tyrone had dreamed of one day having sex with a beautiful white woman - especially one with long blonde hair. Now, that dream was quickly becoming a definite reality for him.
Tyrone sighed in lust as Cindy worked his shaft over with her fabulous mouth and tongue. She sucked and slurped away at his slab of man-meat as if it was her sole purpose in life. Tyrone reached down and placed his hand on top of her head, then lovingly caressed her long blonde hair as she bobbed up and down over his massive member.
While twirling his testicles between her fingertips, Cindy looked up into Tyrone's eyes and smiled as she continued sucking him off. Tyrone grinned at her in return, then shook his head in wonder. Cindy was his "dream girl". There was no doubt about it.
"I want you to fuck me," the young lady squealed, rising to her feet and then settling down in his lap.
Tyrone's heartbeat went into extreme overdrive as Cindy positioned his cock over her heated pussy. The other men watched with awe as Tyrone's black shaft slid up between the folds of Cindy's white thighs. The blonde let out a squeal once the cock was in her all the way, then she wrapped her arms around Tyrone's neck and vibrated in lust.
In no time flat, Cindy was bouncing up and down upon Tyrone's prick. Their rhythmic fucking started slow, but steadily grew faster and harder. Tyrone had his hands at Cindy's waist, grasping it, while she continued to ride him.
The others could easily see that the man's massive cock stretched Cindy's pussy lips to the absolute max. David wondered to himself if such a large cock would hurt her... but apparently not. He could tell by the lustful expression upon her face that Cindy was enjoying every single moment of having Tyrone's huge cock stuffed in her pussy.
The intense action between the two lust-lovers hit a fever pitch, then things started to slow down. Tyrone screamed at the very top of his lungs while jettisoning a fresh batch of cum into Cindy's hungry pussy. In response, the wife-turned-slut buried her face against Tyrone's shoulder and shuddered, experiencing an orgasm of her own.
"HONEY!" David exclaimed seconds later, once his wife finally slipped out of Tyrone's lap. "HONEY!" Not only was Cindy's face covered with sperm, but it was also sliding down her tanned thighs like a waterfall. "Honey, I didn't know that you had that type of sexual appetite!"
Cindy giggled and shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't either... until now." She let out a content sigh.
David looked at his wristwatch. "You only got an hour or so until the audition starts. I know you really need this part...""Screw the audition!" Cindy exclaimed, dropping to her knees in front of David. She reached for his pants and undid them, saying, "Who needs a job when they could fuck five hot studs instead?" Giggling with lust, Cindy slid David's hard cock between her lips and started sucking on it eagerly.
Instead of watching football, David's friends knew they had something better to do on Sunday afternoons from now on. | 4 |
7,700 | Cape And Cowl: The Erotic Adventures of Supergirl and Batgirl | "Mayday... Mayday... Mayday..." the pilot of the small jet said in a controlled voice as he struggled with the controls of the crippled aircraft. "This is Gotham Air Two-Zero-Niner declaring an emergency!"
Those simple words brought fear to the heart of Jim Lee. In all his twelve years of flying, including almost a hundred combat missions during the Gulf War, he'd never had to declare an emergency. Three minutes ago, just as he'd made the leisurely turn that would line his plane up for the approach into Washington's National Airport, a sudden explosion had ripped through the starboard engine.
Thousands of hours of flying time helped avert any sense of panic as he quickly increased power to the port engine and tried to keep the aircraft intact long enough to make an emergency landing.
"Brace yourself," he said to the smartly dressed young woman who occupied the co-pilot's seat. "This is going to be a little rough," Lee added, trying to be reassuring.
In the split second he had spared to look into the emerald eyes of his sole passenger, Captain Lee had been surprised to see no trace of fear in the redhead. It was as if the young woman faced life or death situations all the time, secure in her acceptance of an uncontrollable fate. In a way, it made him feel more secure as well. The last thing he needed right now was a hysterical right-seater.
Glancing up from the instrument panel and then out the window, Jim's eyes fixed on the rapidly growing image of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. Rapidly, he ran the numbers though his head, and a small smile filled his face. Once they cleared the bridge, which he judged they would be able to do, they were home free.
"Almost there..." he said as the altimeter continued to drop.
What measure of confidence he felt, evaporated in a second as the airframe suddenly rocked once again. Jerking his head to the left, a look of horror filled his face as he saw the small jagged hole that now appeared in the port engine.
"Oh shit," he whispered, all color drained from his face.
"We're not going to make it, are we?" the redhead said, no longer worried about breaking the pilot's concentration.
Jim Lee's eyes glanced down at the now spinning altimeter and the bridge before them. They were dropping like a rock. It was no longer a matter of clearing the bridge. If anything, they'd be lucky if they didn't take out a dozen cars when they crashed into it.
Resigned that there was nothing more that he could do, he turned and faced his passenger. No sound issued from his lips, but the look of resignation in his eyes was all the silent answer she needed. Just as quietly, the 26-year-old mouthed a prayer that the end would be instantaneous.
Suddenly. Incomprehensibly. The encompassing view of the bridge suddenly dropped below the horizon as the small aircraft rose once more into the sky. It took a moment for the two of them to realize they were still alive. It was a dozen more heartbeats before they dared considered asking themselves how could they be with both engines destroyed.
Before they could say a word to each other, they found themselves on the ground at National Airport. Instinct took over, and they quickly exited the aircraft, right into the arms of the emergency crews which were already surrounding it.
"I guess it's safe now to ask..." the young woman said. "Why aren't we dead?"
The answer came in the form of an athletic blonde-haired woman who walked out from under the damaged starboard wing. 5'7" and about 120 lbs, she wore a tight-fitting blue shirt which topped a red skirt and matching red boots. An equally bright red cape draped across her shoulders. Situated across her rounded breasts was an irregular red and yellow pentagon with a stylized "S" in it.
"Supergirl!" the redhead exclaimed.
"Are the two of you all right?" the Girl of Steel asked as she reached the front of the plane. "I didn't have much time to be gentle if I was going to keep you from becoming an unwelcome decoration on a National Monument."
"We're fine, and thankful beyond words," Jim said as he stepped forward and extended his hand out in welcome. "Jim Lee, pilot and from now on, your number one fan."
"That's better than any reward," Supergirl smiled as she accepted his outstretched hand.
"And let me add my own thanks," the woman in the conservative business suit said as she reached out as well. "Barbara Gordon."
Automatically, Supergirl shifted her attention to Barbara as she had done with a thousand thankful recipients before. Abruptly, the Kryptonian froze as she focused on the attractive young woman for the first time.
Barbara noticed the sudden pause, unsure what to make of it. She waited a few moments, then asked.
"Is something wrong?"
"I'm sorry," Supergirl said, snapping out of her momentary daze. "I thought you looked familiar, that's all."
"Maybe you saw me on CSPAN," Barbara replied. "Although as Gotham City's most junior Congresswoman, I usually get on opposite most of the late-night lineup."
"Congresswoman Gordon, of course," Supergirl smiled. "I've read some of your speeches. They were very impressive."
"I'm flattered," Barbara said.
"Well, I'm just glad I was able to be here when you had your accident," Supergirl said as she began her own well-rehearsed speech. "The country needs people like you."
"I'm glad you were as well," Barbara replied. "But I'm afraid it was definitely not an accident."
"I don't understand," Supergirl said.
"One engine exploding is an accident," Barbara explained. "Two is a statistical anomaly."
With that, the Girl of Steel turned and focused her amazing vision on the twisted remains under both wings. Layer by layer, inch by inch, she surveyed the mangled metal.
"I'm afraid you're right," she reported. "I'm picking up almost untraceable amounts of explosive residue. They'd be invisible under normal investigation."
"I'd expect that," Barbara said, amazingly calm for someone discussing what was supposed to be the instrument of her own death. "If we'd gone down into the Potomac, as was undoubtedly planned, it would've been written up as a tragic, inexplicable accident."
"You sound like you have a good idea who planted those explosives," Supergirl said.
"Not enough to convince the FBI," the Congresswoman replied. "Not even with two other members of Congress having had similar, more fatal accidents in the last eight months."
"Well, I'm not the FBI," Supergirl said, suddenly very interested. "Convince me."
"I'm afraid I don't have any real proof," Barbara went on. "I just find it too coincidental that both of them and I were on that fact-finding trip to Qurac last year. The one that led to Congress's resolution condemning Qurac for exporting acts of terrorism."
"Qurac, that's a nasty bunch," Supergirl noted. "But wouldn't simply blowing up your plane be more their style?"
"That's true," Barbara agreed. "But what information I've been able to come by suggests that this is a contract job. A group of mercenaries led by a woman called the Crimson Rose."
"I've heard of her," Supergirl replied. "As bad as the Quraci's are, she's worse."
"Definitely," Barbara agreed. "And this is exactly her style. She wanted us to know that we were going to die. She gets off on the fear she creates in others."
Supergirl took a few steps away, lost in thought for a few moments. She had only planned to be in Washington for a few hours, just long enough to drop off a heart for a transplant at George Washington University Hospital. Now she had a new goal.
"If you're right, you can be certain that she doesn't suffer defeat gladly," Supergirl noted."In other words, I should expect another attempt... and soon." Barbara agreed.
"Exactly," Supergirl said with determination. "And when they do, I'll be there."
A look of concern flashed across Barbara's face. For some reason, the prospect of having the Girl of Steel as a bodyguard seemed to bother her. A strange reaction for someone whose life was in obvious danger.
"I'm afraid that's not a good idea," Barbara said. "I can't really explain why, but I can't let people think I'm running away from what everyone tells me is an overactive imagination."
The Congresswoman's heart was racing, Supergirl noted. A telltale sign that she was hiding much more than she was telling. Still, it was her business, her life. She couldn't be forced to accept a bodyguard.
"I assume you don't have any objection to my spending a few days in Washington and taking a little look around?" Supergirl asked.
"Of course not," Barbara smiled, a smile that hid many secrets.
With that, the Maid of Might was gone.
Ten minutes later, Supergirl found herself drifting among the clouds. Barbara Gordon had made quite an impression on her for a number of reasons. Even if there hadn't been an attempt on her life, she would've wanted to find some reason to spend a little time around Washington and try to get to know her better. Kara had been taken aback when she first saw the Congresswoman. Not that Barbara would have any way of knowing it, but she was almost a twin for Supergirl's first lover. At least what the Kryptonian thought her friend Zara would have looked like if she'd had the chance to grow into womanhood.
Sadly, among all the children of Argo City, only Kara Zor-El, known to the people of Earth as Supergirl, had the chance to grow to adulthood. The children of Argo, like their parents, had died when the protective shield around their small spaceborne city had been shattered by a thousand meteor fragments some eight years past. Only her father's foresight to have constructed an escape rocket, patterned after the one that brought her cousin Superman to Earth years earlier, had enabled her to survive.
It hadn't been easy adjusting to life on Earth. Unlike her cousin who had come to this alien world as an infant, Kara had lived the first 15 of her 24 years as a normal, that is non-super girl. Although taken to heart by the people of Earth as one of their super-powered protectors, Supergirl had felt apart from them in many ways, especially in those relating to love.
Relationships are hard when you can, as the saying goes, bend steel in your bare hands. Actually, as Supergirl had corrected herself many times, it was difficult when you were a woman and had abilities far beyond those of mortal men -- or women.
It had been almost two years since Supergirl had her last serious love, Susan Wienczorkowski. An officer on Metropolis's Special Crime Units, she had died in the line of duty while Kara was halfway around the world fighting a fire that had already devastated half a town in Germany. The loss had hit Supergirl hard, and for a time she blamed herself for not being there when it mattered. But with time, she finally accepted the counsel of her older and more experienced cousin. You can't save everyone, he constantly reminded her. Not even when the one you can't help is the one that matters the most.
After that, Kara had little success with either men or women -- contenting herself with a series of meaningless flings. It was funny, she sometimes considered, how many of them had occurred with fellow costumed adventurers. It had to have something to do with the lifestyle.
The most interesting of these brief relationships, she thought, had been with J'onn J'onzz. Known to the public at large as the Martian Manhunter, he was also an alien visitor to this world. With a compatible humanoid physiology, J'onn was perhaps the second most physically powerful man on the planet. Her cousin Kal occupied the first position. Unlike Superman, on whom she had once turned her x-ray vision on one night out of curiosity, J'onn had a 10" cock that was as thick as a baseball bat. That being the case, who cared if it was green?
It had been fun while it lasted. The relationship had paled, however, outside of the bedroom. By Earth calendars, Kara had been 22 years old at the time. J'onn, according to those same human measurements, was almost a century old. They just couldn't relate to each other very well once they were out from under the sheets.
Still, she ached for another relationship that would again send her heart afire with excitement. Whatever instincts she had, told her that Barbara was that type of woman who could do that. From the very first moment she had seen her, she seemed the embodiment of every woman she had ever desired. Even now she could still savor the scent of her perfume, a delightful flowery aroma that conjured up images of virgin gardens and lost summer nights.
Of course, she reminded herself, there could be a dozen flaws in her thinking. On the top of the list, the very strong possibility that Barbara might not be interested in other women -- a very common trait for women of this culture. Unlike her native Krypton where gender was less important than feelings.
But those were questions for later. First, she had to find the ruthless bitch who wanted to see her new infatuation dead. After thinking about it a few minutes, she knew exactly how to track her down.
Soft as a feather, Kara set down on the top ledge of an apartment building across from the Quraci Embassy. By international law, the large red brick building just a few hundred feet away was protected by territorial sovereignty -- literally it was a piece of Qurac. Diplomatic immunity protected both the inhabitants and whatever secrets the hundreds of file cabinets within might contain. All of which meant absolutely nothing to the determined young woman standing in the warm afternoon breeze.
The Quraci Embassy had been protected from unwanted surveillance by several million dollars' worth of security precautions, both human and electronic. All of this was useless against a person with x-ray vision, super-hearing, and almost unlimited patience.
Floor by floor, office by office, Supergirl scanned each carefully guarded secret. In addition, every incoming and outgoing phone call was as clear as if Kara was an invited participant. It was only a matter of time before she found the particular secret she sought.
Barbara Gordon finally returned to her apartment in downtown Washington. With the almost crash as the lead on the evening news, the FBI finally took an interest in the case. In fact, the President himself had called to ask about her condition. But all of it had been merely political showmanship. The agents who had interviewed her and Jim showed no real interest in her theories concerning the Quraci's. After all, to them she was still only a temporary Congresswoman, appointed to fill out an unexpired term. She hadn't even been elected in her own right.
Rest assured, the men in the dark suits and sunglasses had told her, the entire resources of the federal government would be put behind the search for what really happened. Then they had sent her on her way, certain that their interest wouldn't last longer than the next day's evening news.
Checking in with her office, Barbara had been likewise reassured by Tim Murray, the chief of staff she had inherited from the late departed Congressman Stephen Jefferson, that everything was under control and there wasn't even any need for her to stop by. For perhaps the hundredth time, Barbara promised herself that if she did manage to get elected in her own right in November, there were going to be major changes in that office.
Right now, however, she had more important things on her mind. The people who wanted her dead were still out there. If she thought about it, she knew that any other member of Congress would've quickly gone into hiding, demanding FBI or Secret Service protection as they did.
That wasn't her style. Barbara Gordon had fought her own battles all of her life. Most of them in situations that few of her colleagues could've ever imagined.
Moving into the bedroom, the tall redhead quickly stripped off her business suit and the equally conservative undergarments beneath them. Standing in only her panties in front of the dresser mirror, the Gothamite was reminded that periods of extreme danger had always left her incredibly aroused. Today's near-fatal incident had been no different.
Gently, she ran one hand across the lightly covered red bush between her legs while her other hand laid across her breasts. The lean athletic form the 26-year-old had worked so hard to develop back in high school and college was still very much in evidence. Her breasts weren't very large, but they stood on their own without support. Many times over the years, she'd been told they were near-perfect globes. She played with the pert nipples for a few moments, smiling as they sprang to life. They had always been very sensitive, and given her current state of arousal, it took only a soft touch to bring them to erectness.
Barbara lost herself in the sensation of her own touch. Eyes tightly closed, she slid her hands down across her breasts one last time and over her flat stomach. Coming to a rest when they reached the small white triangle between her legs. Using both hands, she rubbed against the soft material. A soft sigh escaped her lips in response to her caress.
Sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, she provided a deeper touch. Now Barbara's breaths came in shorter gasps as she slid first one, then two fingers inside of herself. In due time, a third finger would follow.
Faster, deeper she rubbed, manipulating her clit and covering her long, slender fingers with her wetness.Eventually the small cloth of her underwear became too restrictive and was also discarded. A few more minutes of play brought forth a small but enjoyable climax. Yet in the quiet aftermath of her pleasure, she knew it to be an empty reward.
She hadn't had a lover since leaving Gotham City some eleven months ago. Sure the work she was trying to do was important, she kept telling herself. More important than anything she could accomplish back home. Yet this was a strange city where being in the public eye meant you had little or no private life. There were times she regretted taking the appointment when it was offered to her. One of the most common times was when she crawled into bed each night alone. She had grown very tired of only having a piece of plastic and a few D cells as her only company.
Not that there weren't a great deal of men around her all the time. She was, in truth, quite an attractive woman. But it hadn't taken more than a few innocent dates for her to learn that most of them were more interested in the Congresswoman in front of her name and what that title could do for them. Reluctantly, she had pushed her social life aside and concentrated instead on learning the ropes of her new job. Only to be checked at almost every turn by her own staff. "Give it time," they kept telling her. "You have to learn how to walk before you can run."
Her social life wasn't the only thing Barbara had left behind in Gotham. Unknown to all but a select few, especially those who had proposed her selection to replace Congressman Jefferson, there was quite another facet of her personality. One which would have made them reconsider their opinion that she was a safe candidate that would simply toe the party line until they could get a professional on the ballot.
"Screw them all!" Barbara shouted to the empty air as she finally lost her temper.
A fiery rage flushed through her body as she stormed into the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind as she stood under the rushing water, washing away the grime of the day's adventure. The central theme of her train of thought was that someone had tried to kill her today -- now what was she going to do about it.
Quickly drying herself once out of the shower, she concluded that there was little that Congresswoman Gordon could do. That aspect of her personality, however, was quickly being replaced by a much older one -- one a great deal more dynamic.
"I guess I wasn't making as much of a difference as I thought," the naked beauty thought as she stepped into the bedroom, realizing that she had already made her decision.
Moving to the red brick wall that the builders had left when they remodeled the old building, Barbara reached up and pressed the center brick on the top row. Silent servos came to life as the brick wall separated in two, forming an entranceway to a concealed room beyond.
When she had first made the decision to relocate to Washington, Bruce Wayne had offered her this apartment in one of the buildings owned by Wayne Enterprises. He had explained about the hidden room and how she could use it to hide that which she wanted to keep away from prying eyes. At the time, she'd laughed at the idea that she would drag her past along with her as she set out on what she termed a great adventure. Still, to humor Bruce, she had allowed him to set up the room in case she ever needed it. Now it seemed that Bruce had known her better than she knew herself.
Not that she found that thought very surprising as she stepped into the inner chamber and the entrance closed behind her. People had been underestimating Bruce Wayne for twenty years. To the world at large, he alternated between the image of a playboy and the head of one of world's leading industrial giants. What few had ever saw, because he didn't wish them to see, was that beneath those dual guises he wore another mantle. The mantle of the bat. Bruce Wayne was the scourge of Gotham's underworld known as The Batman.
As the lights of the small antechamber grew to life, the paraphernalia around her gave testament to the fact that like Bruce, Barbara had also worn the mantle of the bat. For the last few years, Barbara Gordon had been Batgirl.
The room around her was almost an exact duplicate of the one she had designed herself in her original apartment back home. Bruce was good for that, recreating familiar surroundings. He'd even had the main rooms of his family's suburban estate recreated on the top floors of the Wayne Tower when he shifted his operations to downtown Gotham.
A small dresser contained a collection of plain white sports bras and panties. Barbara had never really checked before but discovered that both were exactly her size. That was another thing that Bruce was really good at estimating.
As she put them on, Barbara slightly regretted that she never really took the time to find out what else Bruce was really good at. Of course that was the state of arousal talking she knew. There was no way she could've had an affair with Bruce Wayne. Not after she'd already had a somewhat brief one with the junior partner of the Dynamic Duo - Robin.
Adjusting the straps of her bra, Barbara remembered how nice it had felt to have the younger man in her bed those many mornings after they'd gone on patrol together. It was a pity that the relationship had faded after he left for college.
"Time to put all those thoughts behind you," a little voice reminded her as she shifted into what she used to call "combat mode."
With a practice that came back so naturally, Barbara quickly donned the purple and gold costume she had made what now seemed a lifetime ago. Of course this wasn't the same one she had worn on her first night as Batgirl. Batman had long ago replaced that uniform with one that incorporated the very latest in lightweight body armor.
The soft feel of lycra against her chest brought back a rush of pleasant memories. How could she ever have thought she could leave all of this behind.
Carefully she adjusted the gold utility belt around her waist. There was no need to check each compartment. She knew each one would contain a duplicate of what was in her original arsenal. That, or an updated improvement.
Finally, to complete the transformation, Barbara reached for the tight purple and black cowl that rested on a styrofoam head. Back in her early days of the Darknight Damsel, she'd worn a long-haired red wig underneath the cowl to hide her own short locks. Now her own natural hair was more than long enough to take the wig's place.
Once cowl and cape were securely locked in place, the transformed Congresswoman stood before the large full-sized wall mirror.
"This is what I was born to do," she said to the reflection of the crime-fighter. "I'm never going to make the mistake of leaving it behind again." | 4 |
7,755 | Helpdesk | "Help desk."
"Hi, I... wow, you have a nice voice."
"Thanks. Can I help you with your problem?"
"Really sexy and low."
"Thank you. What's your problem?"
"Oh, yeah-- sorry. Um, I'm having trouble with my computer."
"What sort of trouble?"
"My email won't work."
"You can't get email?"
"Well, no, I can get some email, but not all of it."
"What do you mean, not all of it?"
"It won't let me read my messages!"
"How do you know that you have messages?"
"It says I have messages, but it won't let me read them!"
"What happens when you try to read them?"
"It won't let me!"
"Hang on. What sort of mailer are you using?"
"The computer mailer."
"Ok, but what's the name of the software?"
"How would I know that?"
"If you have the program running, it should be at the top of the window."
"Where it says 'FooMail 3.7'?"
"Yes, that's it. Ok, under that it says you have messages? How many?"
"Just one."
"Ok, there should be a button marked 'Read Messages'. Click on that, and tell me what happens."
"It says it can't."
"What exactly does it say?"
"It says 'Skipping 1 message(s) with attachments.... no messages read.' Oh, hey, my friend tried to send me a gif file, could that be the problem?"
"It could be. Did you try telling it to accept mail with attachments?"
"It won't read it! It keeps telling me it won't!"
"Ah. Say, did you say this was version 3.7?"
"What?"
"You said 'FooMail 3.7'"
"Oh. Yeah."
"There's a problem with this version with attachments, but there's a patch. You can download it over the web. Can you bring up a web browser?"
"Is that like Netscape?"
"Yes. Give it this address: www.misc.edu/users/ssha/sp.html"
"Ok... it's loading something... there's a big spiral."
"Yes, it shows that while it's downloading, so you don't get bored. It's a big file, so while you're waiting you can watch the spiral."
"Watch the spiral?"
"Yes, it's meant to catch your eye. Isn't it pretty? But it also shows how the download is going, so it's important to watch it very closely. Do you see the place in the center where all the lines seem to vanish? Like a hole in the middle, pulling everything into it?"
"Yes..."
"That's the part to watch. If you pay close attention to what's happening to the lines as they get pulled deeper and deeper into the spiral... drawn irresistably into the spiral... sucked in deeper and deeper... can you feel how they get pulled in?"
"Yes..."
"Yes, it's a very strong pull, isn't it? You can just feel how it draws everything in. How it pulls in your eyes and your attention and sucks you deeper and deeper... listening to my voice as you fall deeper and deeper... so hard to resist the pull of the spiral, isn't it?"
"Yes..."
"Yes, it's impossible to resist. You just stare deeper and deeper and listen to my voice... listen to my voice and follow my instructions... following all of my instructions. You will do what I tell you now, won't you?"
"Yes..."
"Yes, that's very good. Now I want you to look at your mail program. Do you still have it open?"
"Yes..."
"Do you see the button at the bottom marked 'Accept Attachments'?"
"Yes..."
"Is the box next to it checked?"
"No..."
"I want you to click on that button. Do that for me now."
"Yes..."
"Good... very good. Tell me, do you like my voice?"
"Yes..."
"Feels very good to listen to my voice, doesn't it? Does it turn you on to listen to my voice?"
"Yes..."
"Are you touching yourself?"
"No..."
"Why not? Is anyone else there?"
"No..."
"I want you to unzip your pants and stick your hand in them now. What kind of underwear are you wearing? Briefs or boxers?"
"Boxers..."
"Good. It's easy to stick your hand inside them, isn't it? Are you touching yourself now?"
"Yes... oh..."
"Are you hard for me?"
"Yes..."
"Good. Pull your cock out so it sticks straight out in the air for me. I love to see a hard naked cock poking out in the air. And I love to watch a guy jack off, knowing that he's thinking about me. I want you to come for me soon. Can you do that?"
"Yes... oh, yes..."
"Good. I want you to know how good it feels to call the tech line, while you come for me. I want you to remember how good it made you feel, when you called this number. It feels sooo good, doesn't it?"
"Yes... yes..."
"Yes, I can help you with *all* your problems. It's amazing how many things can seem like problems, when you want to call me. How you can get so stuck on any excuse to call this number again... and again... and again. Ooh, you're so close, aren't you?"
"Yes! Oh..."
"Yes. Remember how much you *need* to call this number. So much that you don't need to remember anything else. The details don't matter... it's so fuzzy, so hard to remember, when you're so hard for me, so close to coming. Come for me. Come and forget. Everything except the need to call. The need to call this number. Come NOW."
"Oh! Oh... oh... oh..."
*Click*
"Hah."
"Hah? Must have been good. Hey, Sash, thanks for covering the phone for me while I took a wizz."
"No problem. Oh, and Gary, remember how pissed I was at you when you puked on my best leather jacket?"
"Yeah?"
"Forget about it. I shouldn't have gotten so mad. Consider it water under the bridge." | 4 |
7,819 | The Ultimate Mind Control | "Dr. Richard McRichards, Code 10, SRL 2; Dr. Richard McRichards, Code 10, SRL 2"
"Oh, no," Dr. McRichards groaned in disappointment as he stopped, pulling his cock out of the woman he was fucking. "No, baby, I need you in me," she whimpered. "Please, please, fuck me some more. I need your big cock."
"Inactive," he said, noting her strong resemblance to Yasmine Bleeth. He saw her eyes flutter in response to the programmed command as she relaxed and drifted off to sleep. He tried to stuff his stiff pecker back down inside his pants and tuck in his shirt. While everyone knew he was very involved in quality control, there was no need to flaunt it. He hurried down the hall toward the laboratory area.
"Doctor," he said to Bruce Davenport, his trusted assistant.
"Doctor," Bruce replied.
"What is the problem, doctor?"
"The $20,000,000 woman is in the building, doctor. They have her through preliminaries, measurements, basic interrogation and IQ sections. She will be in the SRL in a moment."
Dr. McRichards looked around, noting the continual movement of people, all busy at their jobs, which was to be expected in a well-run, major company. He smiled, thinking how the company made $20 million pure after-tax profit last year and he owned it, lock, stock and barrel.
Next month should be the best month in the company's history. That is when the conditioning of Lisa Winters would be finished, and his client would pay him $20 million for her. It was the highest price he had ever received for a woman.
Lisa Winters. She was only seventeen, but his client had specified her. His investigation revealed a unique young woman. Besides placing in the top three in a national teen beauty pageant and winning Miss Congeniality, she was the valedictorian of one of the finest prep schools in America with an IQ of 172. Moreover, she was reputed to be bubbly, positive, very sweet and very, very sexy.
"EMERGENCY! Security, Code Red 11, SRL 2. Security, Code Red 11, SRL 2."
"What the hell?" McRichards exclaimed. He grabbed a vapor protection mask off the wall, snapping it around his head. He had not heard a "Red 11" called in years.
Pheromone overload. The smell of pussy. It could drive a man mad.
Security men rushed by him, headed for the lab entry corridor. "I can walk by myself," he heard a female voice say. His initial thought was of bell chimes. His second thought was the sound of the Sirens, those mythical Greek characters whose voice lured men to their doom.
All movement in the hall had ceased. Two men without masks ran screaming by him, their minds overloaded, their trousers tented. Then, there was not a sound. He saw security and other personnel backing up out of the corridor.
He saw her.
You must understand that since Dr. Richard McRichards founded CyberPersonnel ten years ago, quality control was the key to his success. Every single placement had to be a wild, wonderful, hot, sweating, hard fucking woman. He had personally conducted quality control of the approximately 10,000 women his firm had located, acquired, trained and sold to clients around the world. Every one of them was special. Every one of them was sexy, sensual, and beautiful.
Since his firm was now processing approximately five women a day, five days a week, and Dr. McRichards' quality control with each of them lasted approximately two hours, he was spending fifty hours a week fucking the most beautiful, slutty, well-trained sex slaves in the world.
It was a hard job, but somebody had to do it. However, as a result, Dr. McRichards was becoming jaded to the beauty of the female form. So, you can only imagine how good Lisa Winters looked when Dr. Dick said, "Jesus Christ. Look at that!"
She was walking toward him like a lioness stalking her prey. His cock was hard as steel, and he was quivering. Every man in sight had the same response. Suddenly, her eyes began to flutter, and she fell to the floor at his feet, unconscious. The spell was broken.
The staff quickly returned to action. Lisa Winters was carefully lifted and taken to SRL 2.
"Bruce, I want a security report immediately. And, I need damages. We must find out what caused this."
"Immediately, doctor," came the response.
Dr. Dick watched through the glass window as Lisa was laid on the gynecological examining table, which was standard equipment in all the Sexual Response Laboratories. He saw security attach the restraints to her wrists, then fit her feet in the stirrups, opening her legs, making her available. The ankle restraints were quickly fastened.
He could not take his eyes off her. Either feature by feature or considered as a package, she was the most perfect woman he had ever seen. Her head was slightly raised on the pillow, her rich, full, red lips slightly parted as she slept. Her golden hair, which sparkled even in the lab's fluorescent lights, lay around her like spun gold. Everything was perfect: her nose, her dimples, her eyebrows and lashes. He was so stunned by her face that he had not even looked below her neck yet, and that is saying something.
He watched as the lab technicians put all the measuring and evaluating equipment in place. He moved to look toward that sweetness between her legs. A more beautiful pussy he had never seen. It was a perfect rose. He could see the juice dripping from her and the swollen, full lips.
"Walters!" he snapped.
"Yes, sir," his trusted aide replied, stepping to his side.
"Has she been sexually stimulated? Has anyone touched her?"
"I will check, doctor."
Dr. Dick was mesmerized as he watched the young beauty laying so inert. Her eyes began to flutter.
"No! Where am I?" she wailed. He ran to her side. "Are you from Mars? Have I been captured by aliens?" she sobbed.
"Sorry," he mumbled as he removed the gas mask. Pheromone hit him like an ocean wave, almost knocking him over. He tried to clear his head.
"Lisa?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
"I am Dr. McRichards. You are safe. No harm will come to you here."
"I am naked. Please, why am I naked and attached to this table?"
"We are going to run some tests on you, dear. That is all." She began to cry.
"Give her five ccs of BMC2 stat," Dr. Dick ordered the nurse at his side. The nurse quickly drew the medicine from its container with a needle. She was reaching for Lisa's arm when "Wait! That may be the problem!"
"What is, doctor?"
"BMC2. Has she been given any previously?"
"I will check, doctor," the nurse replied.
"Dr. McRichards?"
"Yes, Walters?"
"No one has given her any sex drugs or sexually stimulated her."
Dr. Dick looked back at Lisa, who had stopped crying and was watching them intently.
"Has anyone touched you sexually, Lisa?"
"Of course. I mean, I am seventeen."
"No, dear. I meant here, today?"
"No, sir," she answered, disappointment evident in her voice.
Dr. Dick led his team out of earshot. "It may be the whole sexual explosion was generated by her naturally."
"No way! No woman has that much sexual power," Dr. Bruce exclaimed.
"No woman we have tested, you mean," Dr. Dick replied.
They looked back at the girl on the table who was staring at them.
"Reinforce her ankle and wrist restraints. Add upper arm restraints and around the knee. Then, start the tests."
"Yes, sir," came the swift reply.
The Sexual Response Laboratory was designed to test, monitor and evaluate sexual data about women. Besides monitoring blood pressure, pulse, heart rate, and other such items, the Laboratory had developed other tests. The SEEG was the Sexual Electroencephalogram to measure brain waves and chemistry. Several tests measured the power of her kissing, the heat of her skin, the physical impact of her touch (in pounds per square inch).
The PIP (Pussy Internal Pressure) test measured the amount and direction of force applied by vaginal muscles at a depth of four inches. The DPIP (Deep PIP) measured at eight inches. The PEP (Pussy External Pressure) test measured force at one-half inch and included the effect of the inner lips. The PIT (Pussy Internal Temperature) test measured the heat of the pussy itself at four inches.
The most sophisticated and newest test was the PIWA (Pussy Internal Wave Action) test.This measured the effect of the internal pussy muscles to create a wave-like motion to draw the male cock deeper into itself and massage it there. Research showed the PIWA factor to be essential to ultimate physical pleasure.
It was the POP (Pussy Odor Power) test McRichards believed to be the most crucial in this instance. It measured the release of female pheromones at the labia and at five feet away.
Dr. Richard McRichards stared down at his pants. He checked his watch. He had now been constantly hard for almost two hours and just from watching Lisa Winters. Never in his life had a woman had this effect on him. He noted the men in the area were all tenting. The ones in the lab itself appeared almost to be in agony, and they could not take their eyes off her.
Suddenly, they saw Lisa's hips begin to undulate. The lab technician grabbed for a vapor mask, but he was too late. His screams of madness filled the air as he buried his face between Lisa's legs. The loud slurping sounds drowned out her moans of desire as he slurped away, never breathing, never wanting his intake of her to end, until he fell dead.
It was a horrible sight. They would autopsy to determine if he suffocated or died of a... er, heart attack.
Lisa gasped and fainted, her needs temporarily met. Dr. McRichards called an emergency security meeting. The staff was close to panic. His organization was in danger. It was then his assistant had a brilliant idea.
"Capture her mother. Bring her here. Maybe she can shed light on this problem."
"Brilliant idea, doctor." "Thank you, doctor." "In the meantime, doctor, continue the testing with additional anti-chemical-warfare protection." "Yes, doctor."
Hours later, Dr. McRichards stood over Lisa Winters. He looked at this beautiful, sweet young woman. Then, he looked back at his test results. Every test... every single goddamned test... they gave her showed she was so far over maximum, they could not measure it. No woman could have this much sexual power. He had to risk a personal interview.
"Lisa," he asked, his voice muffled by the brand new high-tech Vapor Lock 2000 gas mask.
"Yes, doctor," she replied softly, her voice like the sounds of angels' wings.
Why did he have the desire to fall to his knees and beg to kiss her pussy every time she spoke? His audio testing procedures, which were still in development, needed to be brought to production immediately.
"Have you had problems with men before?"
"Oh, no, sir. All men do what I want them to."
"I know that!" McRichards thought. "No, dear. I mean, do you cause men to go mad, into convulsions, that sort of thing."
"Just once. My mother taught me how to control it." He fought the desire to kneel.
"Your mother?"
"Yes. She is really the beautiful and sexy one in the family."
"WHAT!!"
"My mother is the beautiful and sexy one," Lisa said.
"NOOOO!" he thought.
The mother had been captured. She was in the building. McRichards ran from the SRL. The first thing he noticed was the deathly quiet in the hallway. Where was everyone? Then, he heard the sound of laughter. It was coming his way. Quickly, he injected a dose of anti-chemical protection into his arm. The noise was getting closer.
Then, he saw her.
If Lisa Winters was a Mercedes, Stella Winters was a Rolls Royce. If Lisa was a princess, Stella was a queen. She was the mold from which Lisa was made. But, now thirty-five and in the full flower of her femininity, she made Lisa pale by comparison.
He knew it was all over. He knew it was too late. A lifetime's work... destroyed. Dr. Richard McRichards could not move. Stella was walking toward him, her eyes holding him in place like a tractor beam from the Enterprise. He could only do what men have done for millennia when faced by insurmountable danger. He prayed.
"Please, God. Don't let her undress."
Stella's mouth curled in a sweet, shy, and very sexy smile as she stopped before the frozen scientist.
"Dickie," she said softly. He felt the chains surround his mind.
"Here, let me remove that ugly old mask. Now, isn't that better."
Pheromone flowed over him. He thought he would lose consciousness, but her finger under his chin kept him alert.
"It's OK, Dickie. I will not hurt you," she said as she kissed him.
The feelings of being enveloped in pure goodness, like returning to the womb, flowed from her lips to his. Her nipples against his chest were a counterpoint, like two small electric prods sending raw power through him. He felt faint from the blood rushing from his head to his cock, which was filled to bursting.
"Is my daughter safe?" Stella asked.
"Yes," he whimpered.
"I knew you were a good man and wouldn't hurt my baby. Thanks for keeping her safe, Dickie."
The pressure of her fingers on his arm was the equivalent, in terms of physical characteristics, of a light summer breeze, but it was the equivalent of three NFL linemen holding him when measured in control of the subject.
"How can I make you happy, Stella?" he gasped.
"I am just like any woman," she said shyly. "I need a big strong man to care for me. I need a husband, Dickie."
Lisa Winters dropped out of high school. Now, executive vice president and director of male operations at CyberPersonnel, she and her mother were responsible for the changes in corporate policies and operations which had doubled Company profit in a year by training and selling men as well as women.
Like her stepfather, she believed quality control was the key to success. For that reason, she did it personally.
Naked, legs spread, Lisa was in her office on her quality control testing apparatus (called a bed when not for official company use). Between her legs was a man who was a dead ringer for George Clooney and had a foot-long cock.
Lisa was hot and sweaty. She had orgasmed eleven times with Subject 00769, as the man had been renamed when taken by CyberPersonnel. But, he had been sold to the woman Prime Minister of a major foreign power, and CyberPersonnel wanted him to be perfect. This was an opportunity to penetrate new markets, so to speak. She groaned and tightened her legs around him as orgasm twelve flowed over her.
"Now, take a deep breath," she ordered, pushing the man between her legs. She felt the breeze tickle her clit as he inhaled. "Like that smell, 69?" she said, calling him by his nick-number.
"Yes, Miss Winters," he moaned. "I can never get enough."
"That is the whole point," she thought. She kissed his cheek and dismissed him.
"Please, Miss Winters, we have been screwing for an hour and I have not orgasmed. May I cum?"
"Your new owner will be here shortly, 69. I am sure she would love having your huge balls unloaded in her."
"Thank you, Miss Winters," he whimpered as he left for the Exit Station, carefully holding his bloated and painful balls.
Lisa slipped on a robe to go see her parents. When she exited her office, two technicians walking by fell to their knees, sobbing. "Damn. I need to shower. I cannot let my pheromone interfere with smooth corporate operations." Now clean, her blonde hair still wet around her head, Lisa walked through the halls of CyberPersonnel.
"Hi, Dr. Bruce. Where are mom and dad?"
"They are in their office, Lisa," the doctor replied, feeling his erection snap upward as his knees buckled and he kneeled.
She opened the door and smiled, seeing her stepfather naked and on his back, her mother over him, his cock buried in her. Lisa could see the barely perceptible movement of her mother's body. Dr. McRichards looked as if rigor mortis had set in, totally stiff and death-like.
"Mom, how long has it been?"
"Three hours and five minutes, honey."
"Isn't that a long time for a man to fuck? I mean, has he been in you the whole time?"
"We are going for a new record. Anyway, he loves it. Don't you, Dickie?"
Stella brushed her nipple across his cheek. She enjoyed seeing him jump when she did that. It was as if she had put a cattle prod to his skin.
His involuntary twitch was his only movement... except for a smile which grew across his face. | 3 |
7,834 | Seven's Revenge | "It's time," Seven said to B'Elanna.
"One moment, Seven." B'Elanna continued to work at her console in engineering.
"I have only reserved the holodeck for one hour. We must go now or we will lose it." She grabbed B'Elanna by the arm and began pulling her out of engineering. B'Elanna brought this on herself. She insisted Seven take more leisure time, and since the strip Blackjack game, Seven continued to ask her for help with recreation.
Both arrived into an empty holodeck. Seven looked up.
"Computer, run B'Elanna Exercise program A-4, include Seven of Nine modification R." B'Elanna's exercise program was not aerobics or treadmills, but a rocky, hilly terrain area where she fought several holograms in basic combat. She introduced it to Seven shortly after the Blackjack game, and Seven kept insisting she could make it better, obviously she felt she had now.
"So what are the modifications?" B'Elanna asked.
"Simple, similar to before, but hits are scored differently. This modification allows us to fight each other in total safety to our bodies."
"Doesn't sound too fun." B'Elanna knew the reason one-on-one combat was not challenging was because of the safety protocols on the deck forced the hologram weapon to pass through harmlessly any person it struck. It was against ship's regulations to use real weapons.
B'Elanna removed her engineering short jacket to reveal her standard duty jumpsuit. One piece from neck to foot, gray, it was accented by her yellow undershirt/mock turtleneck. This one was short-sleeved.
Seven grabbed the holodeck-generated batala and flung it toward B'Elanna's bare wrist.
"Shzzzzeeeettttt…/..Whoosh" it passed completely through. B'Elanna was left rubbing her still connected wrist.
"Hey, that hurt!"
"The blade will cause a slight discomfort whenever it strikes the skin, but no permanent damage will be sustained. If the blow is not sufficient enough to cut through, it will remain in place until removed. So will the discomfort." B'Elanna thought she could make out a smirk on Seven's face.
Seven had her typical silver form-fitting catsuit on. Secretly, all the men on Voyager loved it. Her fantastic figure constantly made heads turn.
The fight began. Each warrior testing each other's blade and technique. A lot of clanking from the blades striking, and for more than 10 minutes, no one scored. Then B'Elanna dropped her guard. Her Batala dropped, and Seven took a clean shot to her shoulder area.
"Shzzzzeeeettttt…." B'Elanna winced in pain as Seven pulled it out. It only cut down about 3 inches. B'Elanna reached up to rub her sore shoulder to discover a surprise.
"My uniform, it's ripped." While the blade made no lasting mark on her body, the uniform around it was cut just as if from a real blade.
"Interesting," Seven said. B'Elanna stepped back, she thought about stopping it, but remembered she won the last 5 times they did this. She was clearly the better fighter, Or so she thought.
More clanking, a few near misses, then B'Elanna's turn.
"Shzzzzeeeetttt…./….Whoosh" Seven's arm was exposed, and B'Elanna cut cleanly through just above the elbow. The severed sleeve slid down, and Seven was forced to remove it.
"Nice one." Seven too felt the discomfort but continued.
Part II
More hits were scored, nothing major, simple strikes and scrapes, the worst being a cut to Seven's right leg. Then B'Elanna took a gamble, she would strike center, then up, then back to the exposed center, a classic move. Seven knew the move and prepared for it. Instead of a full counter to the up move, she parried it and spun B'Elanna's blade, forcing her to release one hand. Seven spun around completely and swiped for the center. "Shzzzzeeeettttt…./….Whoosh." Seven's blade passed cleanly across B'Elanna's hips and out her right side. B'Elanna stood stunned as the bottom of her uniform fell to her ankles.
"Why, Lieutenant, I don't believe those are standard-issue undergarments." B'Elanna turned beet red. She stood there virtually naked from the waist down. Exposed was a bright yellow pair of lacy, see-through string panties. They hung just low enough on her hips to be missed by the strike. Her red pubic hair showed through prominently.
"That's it." She was fired up now. The Klingon blood boiled between her veins. B'Elanna kicked off the useless bottoms and attacked Seven with tremendous vigor. As she fought, her ass wiggled, coercing the lacy material to work its way between her firm ass cheeks.
Clang, clang, Shzzzzeeeetttt, whoosh, clang shzzzzzeeeeettttt, whoosh, brought both legs exposed on Seven. B'Elanna skillfully used the blade to rip apart each leg, reducing the catsuit bottom to a pair of short shorts. Seven did not allow B'Elanna to continue. She immediately slashed back, cutting into the center of B'Elanna's midsection, and a few pieces of fabric fell to the ground, exposing her belly button. Both stood back to catch their breaths.
B'Elanna bent down and adjusted her bright yellow lace panties. They were her only covering below her waist. Her red pubic hair had penetrated the lace material quite easily. She ran her fingers around the material, pulling it from her crack. The pubic hair was no longer protruding from the front now. She knew they would return to the embarrassing state once they started again. Seven was examining the remains of her silver catsuit as well. Her legs were completely exposed, as were parts of her midsection and one arm. The two women warriors prepared themselves once again.
Clang, clang, whoosh, clang. The noise was deafening, then B'Elanna saw an opportunity. She hit Seven's blade down and sliced straight up, hoping to catch her midsection. Seven was aware of this move and immediately straightened up. Seven did not calculate on her enormous assets. Her DD breasts were in B'Elanna's line of slice. Shzzzzeeeetttt, whoosh, the silvery material from around her tits fell to the ground. Seven did not like the feeling. For the first time, her incredible boobs were freed for B'Elanna to see. B'Elanna could not help but notice how firm they were, especially for their size. She also discovered the nipples were erect. Seven just stared at her chest for a moment. She was mortified, she tried not to show it.
B'Elanna did not allow her to rest for long. After the momentary pause to admire her handiwork, she continued to slice into Seven's uniform. Seven's shock over the exposure caused her to drop her guard once again. Shzzzzeeeetttt, whoosh, B'Elanna's blade cut down from Seven's side onto her crotch. The left third of her outfit fell to the ground. Seven actually blushed. The remainder of her outfit clung onto one leg and up to one arm. Her clit was exposed completely. Seven put her hand between her legs for a moment, but not before B'Elanna got a direct look. She was shaved completely!
"I didn't know Borgs shaved down there," B'Elanna grinned.
"We, um, it's an experiment." B'Elanna didn't buy it, but she let Seven have her fantasy. Besides, it would make a good story later in the officer's mess.
Clanging sounds began again. Seven struck high, forcing Belana to raise her blade to block. Then with an exposed midsection, Seven kicked B'Elanna, and she fell to the ground. Shocked, B'Elanna had never seen Seven use a move like that. She was impressed. That did not last for long. Seven stabbed the blade down and struck B'Elanna in the chest. B'Elanna felt a sharp pain from the simulation as Seven pulled back. As she pulled the blade out, Seven twisted it and, therefore, the material from the top of the jumpsuit as well. She jerked back like a fisherman reeling in a catch. Rippppppppp! B'Elanna's whole top came completely off. Mock turtleneck and all. Seven smiled as she looked down at B'Elanna.
Lying there in the dust, B'Elanna now was clad not only in a pair of micro bright yellow lace panties and matching bra, which was equally as miniscule. Her large brown nipples were very visible through it. For a moment, Seven admired what she saw. She secretly wished she had smaller tits. Hers kept getting in the way when she crawled through Jeffrey's Tubes.
Part III
As B'Elanna stood, her bra fell to the ground.It seems an earlier cut by Seven had snapped the back. Her breasts were now exposed. As she dove toward Seven, they bounced nicely. Seven's great tits did the same. In the flash of a second, B'Elanna got her revenge. The cut was completed, straight across Seven's midsection, then up to the shoulder. The remnants of the catsuit fell to the deck. Now totally naked, Seven actually did blush. There was no hiding her shaved pussy or enormous DD breasts. She bowed her head, defeated.
"Interesting addition," B'Elanna said with respect. Both ladies' clothes were in tattered ruins. Seven was standing there totally naked, B'Elanna in just her bright yellow lace panties. "Now what do we do for clothes?" B'Elanna laughed. Surprisingly, so did Seven.
"Here," Seven opened a gym bag and threw a duty jumpsuit to B'Elanna. "You can wear this. The captain has been after me for a while to wear it, but I don't believe you would fill out my silver suit." She was right - at best, B'Elanna was a B cup, maybe pushing a C, but definitely not a DD.
Seven bent down, placing each leg in her replacement catsuit. As she bent over, B'Elanna could not help but notice a little excess moisture between Seven's legs. Lifting the suit up each leg, it tightly conformed to her toned body. Wiggling slightly, she worked it over her incredibly firm ass. Then, sliding each arm into each sleeve, her DD breasts hung over the top of the silver material for an instant. Seven pulled it up and over her shoulders, once again concealing her superior body. "Could you zip me up, please?" B'Elanna walked behind her and grabbed the zipper, pulling it from the top of Seven's butt crack to her neck and fastening the collar snap.
"Don't you wear underwear?"
"Why, no. I don't need the support," B'Elanna swore she could make out a little ego in Seven's voice.
"I don't know why you wear those impractical underclothes."
"When you get a boyfriend, you'll understand," B'Elanna said quietly.
"What was that?" Seven did not hear her too well.
"Never mind. I'll explain later."
B'Elanna finished dressing in the jumpsuit and her short engineering jacket. Seven grabbed the gym bag. "After you," Seven allowed the doors to open and patted B'Elanna on the back as she readjusted the gym bag on her shoulder. The two walked to the turbolift and entered. As the lift progressed, B'Elanna spoke.
"I enjoyed that, perhaps another round sometime?"
"I would enjoy that also," Seven said. The lift doors opened, and B'Elanna stepped out.
"My stop." As she stepped out, the comm signal rang.
"Doctor to Seven."
"Seven here."
"Are you finished yet? I need that back."
"Sorry, doctor." Seven reached out to B'Elanna and grabbed a device attached to the back of her collar. It was the Doctor's mobile holo-emitter. As the doors shut, B'Elanna turned quickly. Her clothes dissolved around her. She was left standing there wearing only her short engineering jacket, which was barely covering her breasts, and bright yellow lacy panties, with red pubic hair poking through. She gasped.
The doors of the turbolift opened again. This time, inside were Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay. They scanned the red-faced B'Elanna's body for a moment. Then, both walked right past her. Without looking back, Janeway commented, "Why, Lieutenant, I don't believe those are standard-issue undergarments." | 3 |
7,848 | Alone in Berlin | "Hello?"
"Chris? It's Meg, Meg Kruger," I felt my heart beat quickly as I waited for the voice on the other end of the line to respond.
"Meg? Hi... Where are you?"
I let out a rush of air, I could hear myself talking too quickly. "I'm in Berlin, I fly out tomorrow... early... I'm at the Hotel Ibis," I hear myself laugh, but it sounds forced. "Hotel Ee-bis here, not eye-bis."
"Oh... I hope it's not in the combat zone..."
"No, but it's a little funky here, lots of immigrants and young intellectuals," The words poured out, was I making sense? "It's a little rough around the edges, but there are all these flower boxes on the ledges and if you look closely, there are lace curtains in all the windows. It's a neat place, really." Stop. Take a breath, I told myself, "But it's weird, walking down a street knowing you're completely alone in a foreign city..."
"That explains the phone call, but I know what you mean..."
Yes, he understood... I guessed that he didn't think I was a freak for calling him.
"Yeah... When are you supposed to return to the States?"
"This Saturday, I'll be staying over in Berlin Friday night... I'm surprised you didn't call your boyfriend..."
So was I.
"Time change... He'll be at work, our moods won't match... It's nice to talk to someone who is in the same time zone, you know?"
In more ways than one...
"It's nice just to hear English, at least you know some German..."
He was making conversation, that was a good sign. Maybe he was actually glad I called.
"Yeah, but I'm afraid to use it. If you ask a question in German, they answer in German, that's the problem!"
Chris laughed softly. God, what was I doing? This was crossing so many boundaries...
"You don't mind, do you? Me calling like this?"
"No, I don't mind... Don't have anyone at home to call... Except maybe my dog..."
Yes, Chris had made it clear all week just how single he was.
"You've got that seminar tomorrow, don't you? You need to prepare for that?"
Give him an out, remind him that business comes before pleasure.
"I got that ready yesterday, once I didn't have you and Gordy and Sacha around to distract me..." I could hear the smile in his voice. If voices could be described by colors or textures, my boyfriend Tommy's resonant baritone would be a highly polished bronze, but Chris had a voice that was smoky blue, with a gentle, reedy quality, like a softly played saxophone. It was different than I was used to, and I was surprised that I liked it. I liked it a lot.
"Oh, yeah, we really had to twist your arm..."
"You're a corrupting influence, Meg, admit it."
Yes! He was teasing me, maybe even flirting...
"Yes, I forced you to visit that castle..."
"Yes! The castle, and the tavern, and the disco..."
"Well, isn't that what conferences are about?"
"Apparently the sharing of scientific discoveries within the international community is not a priority with you..."
"During the day, of course it's a priority! After dinner... well... you saw me talking to Korlov at least..."
"He was trying to pick you up! And then you go and have a date with Minowitz..."
"It was not a date!"
"Did he pay for your drinks?"
"Yes..."
"Then it was a date."
"Argghh!! It would have been rude to refuse. Can I help it if some men like to be gallant around a woman? Would you rather I pretend that I'm 'one of the guys?'"
"It doesn't matter what I prefer, you should do what you feel is right."
"Exactly, and I'm going to behave like a woman, whatever that means. If, as a result, some men won't take my work seriously, oh well. I doubt they would take me seriously if I tried to behave like a man."
"Excellent point, I hadn't thought of that. Although I don't know exactly how we got there."
"Yeah, well, it's a little hard for me to avoid thinking about such things." I realized Chris might get defensive at this, most reasonable men would, "Actually, now that I've worked through it, being true to myself in a male dominated field and all that, I've been feeling a lot more confident, with respect to work."
"I see..."
"I'm rambling aren't I?"
"Well, Meg, I wasn't going to say anything..."
"Yeah, well, now you know... I tend to go off on tangents... It makes me very creative but..."
"But it's something I should keep in mind if I want to hire you."
"Well, Chris, I wasn't going to say anything..."
The voice on the phone laughed again. God, what was I doing? Did he think I'm trying to sleep my way into a job? The truth was, I wanted this man... no, more than that, but I needed to get to know him better, he was still so much of a mystery. Chris was handsome, charming, sophisticated... and reserved. He didn't talk much about himself. The fact that he was still single made me wonder if he was gay. On the other hand, he could have just been hurt very badly, that was probably it. He had a way of approaching me and flirting, then backing off. I never pressed it, I let him take the initiative, until tonight. Why was I doing this? See, I also wanted to work for him. Chris was very well respected in the field, I couldn't go wrong having him as a boss. The smart thing would be to stay cool, keep it professional. If I did end up working for him, or even at the same lab, the romance could happen eventually... if it was meant to be. Otherwise I could blow my reputation entirely...
"So what does your boyfriend do?"
Shit! Tommy! I was ready to run off with a man I've known for a week. What was happening to me? It was perceptive of him to turn the conversation in that direction.
"He's a network manager, for the electrical engineering department at the university."
"Really? A very portable job, I see..."
"You noticed, huh?"
"I'm well acquainted with the two-body problem, let's just leave it at that."
The two-body problem. Academics live the life of gypsies in the early part of their career, asking spouses to pull up stakes after grad school, the first post-doc, and maybe the second post-doc, before even thinking of settling in as a staff scientist or as a member of a faculty somewhere. Tommy had the type of training that could get him a job anywhere, if the need arose. Not necessarily a reason to start a relationship, but definitely a factor in keeping one alive.
"You and ... Tommy are engaged, right?"
"No..." I knew he was going to ask if Tommy was willing to follow me once my post-doc was up next May.
"But you're living together..."
"Yes..."
"Have you two discussed the future?"
"Not really..."
"Meg..." His voice had that gentle scolding quality, the one you hear when a male friend is about to give you the 'Men are pigs' speech.
"Do you want to marry him?" he asked.
I hesitated. If he had asked me the week before I would have said... Christ, I didn't know what I would have said. That was the question wasn't it?
"I don't know."
"That pretty much answers it, if you don't know."
"No! It's not like that. I just haven't thought about the future, because... because..."
"Because?"
"I wasn't ready to ask him to follow me, and I didn't know how he felt about getting married again after his divorce... and..."
"There's more?"
"I don't know if he's ... the one."
Chris was quiet on the other end of the line. What could he have said, really?
"I guess Tommy and I need to talk some."
"Can I ask one question? If you weren't sure this guy was 'the one,' why did you move in with him?"
"For the obvious reasons, I guess, and I feel comfortable with Tommy, he's like the guys I hung out with in high school. Maybe I thought this was as close to 'the one' as I was going to get, I'm still not sure that he isn't. This trip is messing with my head."
Why was I talking like this? What was I trying to accomplish?
"If you have doubts when you two are apart, that sounds like something you should pay attention to."
"It's not doubts, I don't think. It's just that when you're in a relationship, you slip into roles. One's the sensitive one and the other is the rational one, for example. So when I am away from him, I'm forced to be a whole person. I remember what it's like to be independent... It was a nice feeling."
"You can't be a whole person with your boyfriend?"
"I guess I haven't been... I suppose that's asking a lot, huh? To be a whole person and still give yourself to a relationship. This afternoon, I took a walk in this old church yard... well not that old, the cemetery seemed to have it's heyday in the 20's and 30's with all these Art Deco monuments and the newest markers are in the 60's. Most of them say, "Hier ruht mein lieber Mann."Here rests my beloved husband. It was quite moving. I guess I want that, too... I want to find the real thing, whatever that is."
Chris laughed, "I'm sorry, but I just realized that I'm getting used to your meanderings. You did get to the point eventually."
I laughed, too, "Why, thank you. I have my moments."
Chris didn't respond, but I heard him move and stretch on the other end of the line.
"I'm sorry, if you have things to do, I can let you go. I've monopolized the conversation with my favorite subject... me."
I was relieved to hear him chuckle a bit, taking my joke as it was intended, "Well, I do need to visit the bathroom."
"Then I'll let you go."
"Wait, give me your number and I'll call you back in a sec."
"Are you sure?"
"What else do I have to do except watch TV with German dubbing, which I don't understand, or turn to the porn channel and try to decipher the action with a blackout over the middle of the screen... It doesn't cover everything..." Once again I could hear the grin in his voice. He was ready to change the subject... but to what?
"You could just pay, you know..."
"I've never had to pay for it before, I'm not starting now..."
"Oh really?"
Chris paused, "Um, I'll call you back in a sec. Give me your number."
I gave him my number and I put down the receiver. I decided to get into my robe and I brought a pillow over to the desk by the window. The sun had gone down and I watched the city lights. I turned off the lamp in my room so no one could see in while I reclined against the window. I turned on the television while I waited. It was 'X-files' and through the dubbing, Scully just didn't seem right without the inflections Gillian Anderson put in her voice. All of her vulnerability was in her voice.
The phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Meg? It's Chris... Now where were we?"
"Something about paying for it, I think."
"Yeah... Well, I meant before that."
"Well, we pretty much established that I don't know what to do about Tommy, thank you very much."
"What did I do?"
"Fine, go ahead and feign innocence. See if I care... No really, I'm just going to have to think about that, I guess I've been putting it off."
"Maybe we should talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"Something lighter I suppose, this has been a rather intense conversation. Any suggestions?"
"We could talk about the weather... or talk shop..."
"Okay, we'll talk about the weather. What does it look like in Berlin?"
"It's dark, with scattered bits of light."
"You can see the stars?"
"No, just the city lights. It looks much better at night. Right outside my window I can see this god-awful tower with this globe thing impaled on it. I think it's some sort of landmark, but there's all these radio and microwave things on it that it spoils whatever charm it may have had."
"Things, dazzling me with those highly technical terms, huh?"
"Bite me, Chris."
It was out before I could take it back. I could only hope he would ignore it.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you."
"Maybe... among other things, but I won't go into that.."
"Oh please, 'go into that', I'm curious."
I thrilled at the impish curl of his voice. I became aware of my skin tingling against the fabric of my robe.
"I don't think we should go there."
"Go where?"
"You know..."
"No, I don't know, why don't you tell me?"
"Talking about sex, you do remember sex, don't you?"
"I don't think I do remember, could you describe it to me?"
"Well, yes I could, quite well, in fact. But I don't think that would be a good idea..."
"I suppose you're right, you have a boyfriend, after all..."
"And we're colleagues..."
"And we're colleagues..." he replied. "Maybe that's a good thing, though. Can I ask you something?"
"I guess..."
"Do you feel like a whole person right now?"
Yes, I did. That was it, wasn't it? The reason I pursued this man against all my better judgment. I felt that I could explore all of myself with Chris.
"Yes... What about you?"
"To tell you the truth, I don't know. I haven't thought about it as much as you have. You're not the only one who has been avoiding the future."
"So if something happened tonight, nothing would be resolved."
"We just wouldn't be alone."
I paused a moment. Life is short, I thought.
"Okay."
"Okay? Meg, you mean that?"
"Yes."
"Well, then," suddenly Chris was silent.
"Cat got your tongue?"
Chris let out a burst of nervous laughter, "Heh-heh, she said tongue."
I let my voice drop a little, adding some huskiness to it, "Yes, I did."
"Oh wow, I like your voice like that... it sounds like..."
"The voice of your car? 'The door is ajar,'" I said, with a deep, even voice.
Chris chuckled in recognition, "Yes... You've done this before, haven't you?"
"Mmm hmm," I hummed in wordless affirmation, "Are you comfortable?"
"Uh.. for the most part, I'm in bed, and you? What are you wearing?"
"My bathrobe, do you want me to take it off?"
"Not yet. Are you wearing anything underneath?"
"No."
"Are you in bed?"
"No, I'm sitting by the window. The lights are off so no one can see in."
"Aw, not an exhibitionist?"
"Oh, I can be, but that would take the focus away from you."
Chris laughed again, but it seemed more relaxed, "How thoughtful of you."
"I do my best."
"Hmmm... really? Are you touching yourself?"
I had felt a tingling build between my legs and it was now time to start the games. I untied my robe...
"I'm untying my robe and the cool air in the room feels good against my skin. I'm running my fingernails across a nipple as it hardens in the cold..."
"Ahhh... Yes..."
"Is there anything you'd like to do?"
"I'd want to watch you at first, tell me more."
"I cradle the breast in my hand, rubbing my thumb in circles around the areola. I'm imagining you watching me, becoming more aroused. I slip my other hand between my legs. I've become very wet, my fingers are covered in the warm, slippery fluid..."
I continued to describe to Chris as my hands explored my body. I listened for indications of his arousal, the shortness of breath, urgency in his voice.
"Chris, I need you to talk to me, please."
His voice had thickened into grey-blue storm clouds, and in my mind I stood facing the wind, awaiting the downpour. Chris' once placid timber now possessed me, gusts of passion buffeting and twirling around. The words were secondary to the thundering desire.
"I have you up against the wall, and I lift up one thigh around me," he huffed.
"I press my hips against yours... keep talking, I'm almost there."
My own moans were like the wind over an old house, keening and shuddering under the assault. I pressed my feet into the wall as I squeezed and sweat. My hand rubbed urgently between my legs as lightning struck, heat and electricity searing my flesh. I trembled and slid to the floor, listening to Chris' own distant tempest.
"I'm done baby..." I panted, "Thank you. What can I do?"
There was only a heavy stillness, evoking images of dripping trees and a lightening sky... "I kind of figured that. That last part put me over, when I heard you. I should thank you..."
The wind had died down and the storm had run its course. I looked outside to see the moon appear from behind the clouds.
"I wish I could hold you, Meg. I wish I could have seen you." Chris' said in periwinkle tones. His tenderness curled up next to me as I slipped into bed.
"Yeah, but it was lovely hearing your voice..."
"I'm about to fall asleep, Meg. We should talk when we get the chance."
"Yeah, go to sleep. We can talk later."
"Night, Meg."
"Good night, Chris."
I kept the curtains open and watched the few stars that could be seen over the city lights. The clouds had passed and it was a clear night. I didn't know if I would stay with Tommy or pursue something with Chris, but I knew I didn't feel alone anymore.
I felt whole.
AUTHOR: Lostgirl | 4 |
7,868 | The Romantic | "I love you!"
The girl's squeal of adoration cut through the screaming applause of the audience. Richard smiled at the sound and took one more quick bow before starting down the cluttered backstage path. The mass of voices followed him in thundering echoes as he strode quickly past the lines of congratulating hands to reach the limo parked outside. Inside, Richard leaned back, breathing deeply. His manager handed him a drink.
"Fantastic," said Stephen, nodding rapidly. "Couldn't go much better than that." Richard downed the glass of bourbon.
"Thanks," he said, wiping his mouth on his white satin sleeve. He picked up a pack of Camels and tore away the cellophane. "Beautiful audience. Not like Sacramento." He smacked the package against his left palm and ripped at the silver folds. Richard's hands trembled slightly as he worked his way inside. "It's so much easier to sing with such pretty girls all around." He flipped a cigarette out of the tight bundle and stuck it on his lip. Stephen thrust a flame beneath the tip.
"Thanks," mumbled Richard, taking a deep hit of the dry smoke.
"Preston wanted me to ask you to drop by the Stardust. He's having a..."
"No," said Richard.
"I told him you were beat, but he wanted...."
"No," said Richard again. "I'm going back to my room and get some sleep. My nerves are edgy."
"I know, I know," said his manager, trying to console. "Look, Angelica, one of the company's promotion people told me that her niece is dying to meet you. I suggested, well, she might...."
"Yeah," said Richard, closing his eyes. "Send her around."
Twenty minutes later, his hotel room door closed with a satisfying click, and Richard drooped slightly, finally freed. He walked over to the bed, sat down and took off his shoes. Picking up the phone, he punched the numbers his manager had written down.
"Stephen? Looks good. Is she coming? Great. Have them hold my calls. Yeah, I'll let you know. Not before ten." Richard sat the receiver back in its cradle and stepped over to the window.
The city stretched out in black glittering motion below. Even at midnight, the lights of transit poured red and yellow in lean streams. Richard sighed, imagining a room, so far away, where he could really rest; the chair, his chair, molded by evenings to his weary form; the piano, scarred and perpetually drifting from tune; the smile of a woman who loved him for more than vocal intonations. Richard looked down, and sighed again. The pack of Camels appeared in his hand. He lit another cigarette and poured himself a glass of champagne. A knock came through the door.
"It's Terri," a young voice spoke. "Stephen sent me."
Richard opened the chained door cautiously. A girl of nineteen, maybe twenty, stood in the hallway, smiling broadly, wringing her hands. In a decisive instant, Richard looked her over critically. She had pale brown hair, almost blonde, probably a touch of color to lighten it, curls added by heat in looping rings past her shoulders. Her eyes were green, probably colored contacts masking ordinary brown eyes. She had a smooth, creamy complexion, quite nice, well painted to increase her allure, but her lips were perhaps a touch too thin. Her frame was medium, not a small girl, but not big either. Richard smiled. Her breasts looked firm under the ruffles of her silky black blouse, not inflated but substantial. A slight tummy, delightfully feminine, could be seen where the blouse met her skirt. Lean legs encased in dark silk emerged from beneath the hem of black leather. Richard wished for a fleeting moment she would turn around, but at the same time reached up to unchain the door. Terri would do.
"Come in," he said smoothly. "Come in."
The girl seemed frozen as she suddenly faced her idol, but with a touch of his hand, she moved stiffly through his door. Her green eyes fixed firmly on him, a stare so hard that Richard felt compelled to turn away, walking ahead of her into the room.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said. "Can I get you a glass of champagne?"
"Wow," the young woman muttered, looking around at the plush setting of the suite. "Sure," she said. Richard poured her a glass and refilled his own. He handed her the crystal flute and touched his to hers with a gentle tink.
"Nice to meet you, Terri, did you say?"
"Terri," she said, gulping down a swig of the sparkling wine. The alcohol seemed to calm her at once. "You were great."
"You saw the show?" he asked, flattered.
"I wouldn't have missed it for anything," Terri began to bubble with enthusiasm, having touched a favorite subject. "I'll be there tomorrow night, too. I saw your show in August, too. You are so great."
Richard gestured for her to sit beside him on the bed. Terri sat down with a flop, spilling a splash of champagne over her hand. "Oh," she squealed. Richard took gently ahold of her wrist and kissed the wine from her pale fingers. "Ooh," said Terri, utterly delighted by the singer's attentive gesture.
"I thought it went well," he said quietly.
"You were fantastic. I wanted you to sing 'Meadows' so badly and when you did, I thought I was going to faint, I got so excited. And then you sang, 'In Twilight,' and that was incredible because I never heard you sing that one and I've always wanted to hear you, it was my favorite album for so many years, until 'Songs of Love' came out, and then I wanted...."
"Terri," Richard interrupted her babbling praise. "I'm flattered, but all day long people talk to me about my songs, and I'd really just like to talk about other things. I'm a person, too."
"Oh," said Terri, blushing and thoughtful. "I didn't mean to act like a crazed fan or something." She turned away, frowning. Richard glimpsed the swell of white bosom as her blouse sagged away.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on the slow rise and fall of her tantalizing bit of chest.
"Yes," she said shyly.
"I'm sorry," he said. "We don't have to talk about that, if you don't want to. But I don't get to know people anymore, not really, and well, I'm a romantic. I like to hear people talk about love." Terri looked into his dark eyes, touched.
"I understand," she said.
"Do you love him?" he asked.
"Yes," she said strongly, "very much. Just madly."
"Is he handsome?"
"Oh, yes. I mean, he's just a guy, but I like the way he looks." Terri stumbled over her words.
"He's lucky," said Richard, bravely. "I envy him."
"Jack?" Terri laughed. "But he's just a... I mean... You've got everything!"
"When I was a younger man, maybe Jack's age, I had everything. I had a girl who loved me dearly, and the whole world before me. That was when my first album came out."
"Dark Nights."
"I envy him, because he has you. When I signed my contracts, they gave me a king's ransom, but they never told me what it would cost."
"Oh, Richard." Terri's young voice rippled with pathos.
"She married another man, and I've never seen her since."
"That is so sad."
"I envy the love you have for Jack. I would trade all of this, just to feel that love again." Richard turned his face away, hiding the burst of emotion that threatened to erupt. Terri put her hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said. "But we all love you, you sing so beautifully, and well, I love you."
"Do you?"
"Yes. Very much."
"It's not the same."
"Still," said Terri, thoughtfully, "it's something." Richard turned at once and kissed the girl. She melted, overwhelmed by the touch of his lips, and as his arms wrapped around her, she gave herself away. Strong hands caressed her warm body as his kiss grew moist and feverish. Terri threw her arms around the singer made man.
"Oh, God," she moaned, "I love you."
They rolled over the bed, kissing madly. Pulling her blouse from the skirt, he found her breasts beneath. She yanked the silk over her head and unclasped her brassiere. He suckled her stiffened nipples, sending shivers down her spine. Terri felt the hard throb of his manhood pressed against her thigh.
"Fuck me, Richard," she said, letting the words roll wickedly past her lips, savoring the thought as his hands roamed down to lift her leather skirt and squeeze her full behind. "I'll love you, Richard. I'll love you." Terri licked her lips. "Fuck me, Richard."
He knelt between her spread long legs and looked into the sultry gaze of her eyes. Terri shuddered in delight.Richard slipped his strong hands down the length of her lean thighs, indulging himself in a moment's anticipation. Taking hold of her white lace panties, he tore the fragile fabric from her waist with a sudden jerk.
"Oh my God," moaned Terri. Richard lifted the shredded panties to his face and smiled as he tossed them away. Leaning down, he thrust his face into Terri's dripping snatch, pushing his maestro's tongue between the scarlet lips, framed in dark curls, into the swampy pit of her young cunt. "Ooh," she whimpered, and as he lapped the hot froth, he wordlessly sang her favorite song. She grasped his hair and pulled him closer. He tickled her hard clit.
Leaping forward as the shudders overcame her, Richard impaled his burning cock into Terri's hole, and thrusting with a wild mambo beat, he soaked her womb in his mad lust. He looked into her subdued eyes as the ecstasy rippled through him, filling her love with adoration.
Spent, Richard collapsed beside her on the bed, breathing deeply. Terri leaned over to suck the scent from his receding prick. He teased her hair with gentle fingers, encouraging her devotions, falling into quiet lethargy. She moved up close beside him and pressed her lips to his. Richard kissed her, sweetly.
"Do you really love me?" he asked.
"Yes, Richard," Terri said. "I love you."
"I mean really," he said, his voice falling dim. "Really?"
"More than you will ever know."
"I mean, if I come back, when the tour's over in June, if I come back, you'd go away with me?"
"Richard!" said Terri sharply. "Don't tease me like that."
"I'm not," he said, sitting up. "I'll come back in June."
"Yes," she said lovingly. "I'd do anything for you."
"You'll have to go," he said. "I have to sleep, and with you here I won't." Terri giggled and blushed. Richard continued. "Tomorrow's full of press and meetings and appearances, and then there's the show to do and if I don't sleep, it will kill me."
"I understand," said Terri, reaching for her blouse.
"Here's some paper," he said, taking a pad from the hotel table. "Write your name and address and number down for me. I'll be in touch."
Terri stepped over to the table and Richard watched contentedly as the naked girl scribbled, admiring the roundness of her creamy bottom over the dark furrow of her cunt, still dripping with their juices. She handed him the pad, smiling lasciviously and pulled her skirt down.
Richard kissed her again, deeply, and led her to the door.
"I love you," she said, blowing him a kiss as the door closed.
"Goodbye, Terri," he replied.
Walking over to his bag, Richard brought out a large scrapbook. Flipping through the pages, he came to a blank page, three quarters of the way through. Carefully, he taped Terri's note onto the page.
"She was sweet," he thought, turning the page back. Melissa. Janet. Francie. Elizabeth. "One of the best," he said.
Richard replaced the scrapbook in his bag and picked up the phone, punching the numbers deftly.
"Stephen? Yeah. Fabulous. You have exquisite taste. Did Mary call? I had a feeling. No, I'll tell her. Listen, would you send Terri some flowers. Yeah, she was sweet. Have them say 'dream of me, love Richard'. It's the least I can do. No, she already has tickets. All right. Good night."
Richard pressed down the button in the cradle, paused and then lifted his finger to arouse another dial tone. He punched a longer set of numbers familiarly.
"Mary? Did I wake you? Yeah. Good show, I think. I tried to sleep, but I kept thinking of you. I don't know, just a feeling. We must be in tune or something. Stephen says I'll be home on the third for the week, but we have to spend the sixth and seventh at some resort. I know. I'm sorry. Maybe you could... I know. You know I will. I've got to get some sleep, but tell me again. I love you, too."
Richard hung up the phone and stopped to stare out the window. A plane roared overhead, tiny lights flashing, headed far away. He lit another cigarette, letting the heat fill his tired lungs. "So far away," he muttered. Looking down, Richard's heart sank in anticipation of another dark night, alone. | 4 |
7,880 | Spirit of the Season | "Goodnight, Virginia. Merry Christmas!"
She looked up from her report and forced a smile. "Merry Christmas to you too, Lori; have a wonderful holiday."
"Don't stay too late; it is Christmas Eve, after all."
"I won't -- promise."
Her secretary shifted the packages in her hands, smiled, and then quickly made her way down the hall to catch the elevator.
Virginia picked up her report and spun her chair around to look out the window. It was only 6:00 p.m. and it was already dark outside. Huge, fluffy snowflakes were lazily dropping out of the sky and settling on the ground as if to snuggle with all of their friends. The city was a circus of lights and people, with no ringmaster to control the spectators. Last-minute shoppers were scurrying about below, hoping to find the perfect gift, or at least one that didn't have to be glued back together. Virginia sighed and returned to the report sitting on her lap, reading the same paragraph over twice. She looked out the window again, running the end of her pen over her bottom lip.
She wondered what it would be like to get excited about the holiday season, to spend Christmas Eve with family, friends, and excited children, to be with the ones you love. The last time she had felt that way was when she was seventeen -- thirteen years ago. The memories were faded and the feelings too faint to stir any kind of emotion in her -- or so she pretended, unable to fool even herself.
"Virginia, you're still here."
She spun around in her chair and smiled. "Very observant of you, Mack. It's no wonder you're a Vice President here."
He smiled back, although his eyes showed his concern for her as they did every year. There was no reason why she should be alone for Christmas, although she would argue the fact.
"Why don't you put on your coat and come home with me? Sarah and the kids would love to see you, and there's always enough food to feed an army."
"That's because you and Sarah created an army," Virginia said, speaking of their seven children.
Mack laughed and leaned against the doorframe, his voice taking a soft tone. "I'm serious, Virginia. For the past eight years I've left here on Christmas Eve to find you staring out the window. I wish you would at least talk to me about it, or talk to Sarah. She's a wonderful listener."
Virginia dropped the report on her desk, stood up and walked slowly over to Mack. "I appreciate the offer, Mack, as I do every year, but once again I'm going to have to decline. Wish Sarah and those munchkins happy holidays for me, and please don't worry -- I'm fine."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Mack was the closest thing to a father that she had, although he was only ten years older.
He held her close and sighed. One of these years she would say yes and he'd probably have a heart attack and miss it.
She released him and smiled. "Did you remember my bag of presents for the kids?"
He nodded to the bag sitting in the hall and smiled. "All present and accounted for, Ma'am."
Virginia rolled her eyes at his bad pun. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Mack," she whispered.
"You too, Darling," he said, touching her cheek, and then turning to leave. He picked up her bag of gifts and turned back to her. "The offer stands, if you change your mind -- you know that."
She nodded and smiled, afraid to speak as the tears welled up in her eyes. He smiled back and headed down the hall. She watched him get onto the elevator and went back to her chair. She didn't bother picking up her report again, since she wouldn't be able to concentrate on it anyway. The snow was falling heavier now, reflecting off the lights as the wind carried it off and spun it around. Maybe she should have taken a vacation and gone someplace else. It didn't really matter, though; the feelings would follow her no matter where she was. You can run, but you can't hide.
She left her chair and sat on the window ledge, kicking off her heels and spinning around. Leaning back, she stretched out her legs and leaned her forehead against the cool glass as a single tear ran down her cheek and froze against the glass. A tear, frozen in time in remembrance of what could have been but never would be.
~~~
Greg turned from the window and looked at the mess on his desk, chairs, and floor. It looked as if a tornado had gone through his office, sweeping up all of his papers and sending them flying. Could he leave it looking like this in good conscience? He shrugged and decided that he didn't really care; after all, it was his company. In the worst case, he would just get a secretary really pissed off as she felt the need to straighten it all up. He hated the end of the year. The budget reports were starting to suffocate him, and if he heard one more Christmas carol he was going to scream.
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Grinch," he thought to himself as he picked up his overcoat and headed to the door. As an afterthought, he went back to his desk and picked up the Christmas present that sat there. It was still wrapped, but the colorful paper couldn't hide the fact that it was a bottle of his favorite scotch -- a present from his employees. It had become his Christmas tradition in the past two years to celebrate the season with his present in the hopes that he'd get so drunk that he'd wake up and it would all be over. He tucked the bottle under his arm and headed for the elevator.
"Hey, Mr. McInnis, Merry Christmas."
Greg smiled. "And a Merry Christmas to you too, Tina. Are you almost finished? You shouldn't be here on Christmas Eve."
"Just one more office to clean, and then I'm outta here," she said, smiling.
"It could have waited, you know."
"I know, but I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that the offices at McInnis Enterprises still had to be cleaned." She smiled sincerely at him and he smiled back, knowing that she meant what she said. "Plus, you gave me that incredible bonus again, and I wanted to see you and thank you."
He smiled, "Only a small token of how much you're appreciated, Tina. Well, I guess I'll head home, since everyone else left me."
"Almost everyone, you mean."
Greg looked at her, a confused expression on his face. "Almost?"
"Yes, Miss Wilder is still here."
"Oh, I see," he said slowly. "Merry Christmas, Tina, and I don't want to see you back here until after New Years, do you understand? The office will be closed."
She laughed and he smiled. "Yes, Sir!" she said saluting him. "Merry Christmas to you too, Mr. McInnis."
He headed to the elevator as she pushed her cleaning cart into an office, humming to herself. The doors opened and he stepped in and pressed the button for the underground parking. As the elevator started down, he reached out and, on impulse, hit the button for the sixth floor. Stepping out as the doors opened, he looked down the hall both ways and headed to the right, where he could see a light coming out from one of the offices.
She didn't hear him as he stood in the doorframe, studying her closely. They didn't run into each other every day, as both of them were out of the office more often than not. Sometimes they traveled together; he attended meetings and visited affiliates while she took care of promotions. He had admired her ability since he had first met her about seven years ago, after she had already been working for them for just over a year.
He smiled as he remembered the first time he had seen her. He had been totally disgusted with a promotional package, and the scene he had made upon entering the Marketing Department wasn't pretty.
"What the fuck do you call this?" he had yelled to no one in particular as he waved the layout around. The room had become very quiet as eight pairs of blank eyes had stared at him.
The manager had spoken up. "It's the new..."
"It's a piece of shit! What the hell is with all this pink?"
"We thought it would be eye catching and..."
"Eye catching? It looks like Barbie's dream home after a bulldozer ran over it." He was furious, and when he looked over he could see Virginia trying to stifle a laugh.
He looked at her, "You -- I want you to come up with something that doesn't make me want to throw up."
She looked momentarily confused, her eyes moving from him to her immediate boss and then back at him again.He figured that she would back down -- claim it wasn't her job or some equally weak excuse.
"How much time do I have?" she asked, surprising him.
"I'll give you forty-eight hours," he had said, tossing the layout on the floor before storming back out.
He was surprised when, about thirty-nine hours later, he was presented with two different ideas, neither of which made him want to toss his lunch. Both ideas were well thought through and very professional. They also showed promise and the persistence of someone who wasn't wearing blinders -- someone who could think outside the box, and he admired that greatly.
He smiled again, remembering when he asked her what she wanted to do in the future -- where she saw herself going. She had immediately responded, "I want to keep coloring outside of the lines." It had taken him a second to figure out what she was saying, and when he did, he realized how much alike they were -- unconventional at best.
As he watched her now, he thought about how far she had come and how quickly she had gotten there. People who didn't know her, that didn't know her work, probably thought that it had to do with the way she looked. His eyes fell from her neatly pinned up blonde hair down her long neck. Her round breasts rose and fell softly beneath her silky white blouse. Her waist was small, leading down to little but curvy hips. The red skirt that she was wearing had moved up her thighs, leaving her long legs exposed. She was one of those women that you were immediately attracted to because of her looks. She wasn't sexy in the form of a beautiful flashy actress. Instead, she had a very wholesome look that made you think of the girl next door. Actually, had she been the girl next door, there would be a lot of very happy men out there. It was hard to describe how someone could be sexy and wholesome at the same time, but if words could describe it, then that would be Virginia.
"Before you fall out the window, can you let me check to see if I'm insured for that?"
Her head bolted up and she looked over to the man standing in her door. "Greg."
"How goes it?" he asked as he moved into her office and tossed his overcoat on the couch.
"Going, going, gone," she said, smiling weakly at him.
"Shouldn't you be off doing whatever it is that one does on Christmas Eve?" He already knew the answer, although he didn't know the reason.
"Shouldn't you?" she shot back, side-swiping his question, although she too knew the answer.
"I was just about to break into my new traditional holiday mode," he said, holding up the wrapped bottle.
"Don't let me stop you," she said as she watched him sit on the edge of her desk.
"I wasn't," he said, looking around her office. "Actually, I was looking for someone to join me, maybe start another new tradition. Where do you keep your glasses?"
"In the portable bar," she said.
"You have a portable bar?" he asked, a little shocked.
"No," she said, smiling.
He shook his head and smiled back. "Stay there and I'll be right back." He jumped off the desk and headed out her door.
Virginia's eyes followed him until he disappeared. She wondered what he wanted and then shook her head, leaning it back against the window frame. Greg was pretty much the ideal boss, if there was such a thing. He allowed you to explore new ground without fear that you'd stumble and bring the business crashing down. He was opinionated and certainly let you know when you'd disappointed him, which she did from time to time; but he never held it against you, and it was stressed that it wasn't something that you should take personally. Everything she did she took personally, so when he did show disapproval in the way a venture was turning out, it depressed her, but she kept it to herself. She had become a master at hiding her emotions after so many years of practice.
She admired him completely. He had what it took to keep this company going and was always right on the cutting edge of everything. Sometimes he took risks that seemed almost suicidal, but nine times out of ten they were successful and people stopped questioning his sanity.
He walked back in, holding up two mugs. "Do you want the teddy bear or the one that says 'Are We Having Fun Yet?'"
"Tough choice -- I'll take the bear," she said.
He sat back up on her desk and started unwrapping the bottle, carefully pulling off the shiny red bow with the mistletoe hanging from it. As he peeled off the paper, he watched her as she continued to stare out the window. He broke the seal and poured a generous amount into each mug before returning the cap to the bottle and setting it aside. Picking up both mugs, he slid off the desk and moved over to her. Looking up, she took the mug from him and smiled, thanking him.
"I couldn't find any ice," he apologized, staring down into her blue sad eyes.
"After a few, I probably won't notice nor care," she said softly.
Greg sat down on the ledge beside her feet. She pulled her legs up and he leaned back against the window. Looking over at her, he held up his mug in a toast. "To your health," he said, thinking of how stupid that was.
She smiled and clicked her mug against his, "And to yours."
She took a sip of the scotch and felt it burn as it slid down her throat. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a drink, and if she made it to the bottom of this mug she'd probably be on the floor.
"I've been reading over the final report on the Tyson merger, and I think I'll have some ideas for you about how we should approach the..."
"I don't want to talk about business, Virginia," he said, rubbing his thumb against his mug.
"No?"
"No."
"Okay."
They stared at each other, neither saying a word. She wondered what he wanted; he wondered if she had ever thought about him the way he had allowed himself to think about her a couple of times.
"Way back when -- you know, when I was a kid, ninety years ago," he watched as she laughed and then continued. "I remember how exciting it was on Christmas Eve; the smells of baking, the excitement of the unknown, wanting to explore the presents under the tree without getting caught. I also have a confession to make. I pretended to believe in Santa Claus until I was ten just so I could get the extra gifts."
Virginia looked shocked, "You mean there isn't really a Santa Claus?"
"Damn, me and my big mouth!"
She laughed and pushed herself up, pulling her knees up under her chin as she took another sip of her scotch. It was starting to slide down a little easier now. She found herself relaxing, getting caught up in the Christmas memories.
"I remember my two younger sisters used to elect me to go out and scan under the tree while they distracted Mom and Dad. They would create a diversion and I'd move in and take inventory." She laughed softly at the memory as it grabbed a hold of her heart and squeezed.
He watched her face, knowing that somewhere very close to the surface was the reason why she wasn't with her family tonight. No one knew the answer -- just that she never was. She never talked about them and would usually clam up if asked. He didn't say a word, just chuckled softly at the mental image of that.
"One year my older brother got up at 3:00 a.m. and opened everyone's presents," he said, remembering the look on his parents' faces when they stepped into the living room. Virginia laughed and he continued. "He's forty-five now and probably still does it. His wife probably has to lock him in their bedroom on Christmas Eve. More?" he said, holding up his mug.
She nodded and handed him her mug, watching as he pulled off his gray suit jacket and loosening his tie before pouring their second drink. She watched the muscles in his back flex as he moved. If his older brother was only forty-five, then that probably put him around forty-two, she guessed. He was tall, a little over six feet, and in good physical shape. She knew that he spent a lot of time in the company gym. Mack had once said that he had to tire out his body in order to make himself think clearer. Each to his own, she thought.
"So, what's the company gossip on my much hidden divorce, now that the word is out?" he said, repositioning himself on the window ledge and looking at her.
"Married to the company, ignoring the Mrs. -- the usual," she said, honestly. She never minced words and had no use for head games.
"Not very scandalous, huh?" he said, laughing as he took a large gulp of his drink. "If they only knew."
Virginia shrugged, not wanting to pry since it was none of her business. She swallowed more scotch and wondered when it stopped burning on the way down.
"You know, Virginia, you spend your life doing what you think is right, trying to provide for those you're responsible for, and upon doing that you end up losing either one or the other."
She raised an eyebrow, showing her confusion.
"I've worked like a demon for twenty years getting to where I am now, and I have nothing to show for it besides this place, this company."
"No small feat," she said honestly.
"Oh, I'm not complaining about that, and I know I dug my own grave; but it doesn't seem fair somehow."
"Life sucks and then you die," she said, staring into his blue eyes.
"A fine festive Christmas toast," he said, laughing and raising his mug to her. "I guess I always figured that I had the bull by the horns, but apparently I was only holding his tail."
"Do you miss her?" she asked, immediately regretting asking.
"Yes and no," he replied slowly. "I miss the idea of there being an 'us', you know? But I don't blame her for finally giving up on me. I wasn't much of a husband, I'll be the first to admit that; but in my mind I was doing what had to be done. She knew what she was getting into, and I guess she figured that eventually I would become the man she wanted me to be."
"What man is that?"
"One that comes home every night on time, mows the grass, cleans the pool, and plays bridge with the neighbors.""He looked over at her and added, "That just ain't gonna happen in this lifetime."
A church bell bonged outside, and she looked at her watch. It was only 8:00, and her heart sank. If there ever was a never-ending day, it had to be this one.
"So are you still seeing what's-his-name?"
She laughed. "His name was David, and, no, not for about 6 months now. He decided that I spent way too much time away from home to be worth the bother."
"Do you miss him?"
She thought about that. "No, but I miss the sex."
Greg choked on his drink, her comment taking him by total surprise. He looked at her grin as she obviously enjoyed his reaction.
"Just the sex?" he croaked.
"Yup - oh, and the way he used to pick up my dry cleaning on his way over to my house to have sex."
"It is hard to find those qualities in a man, isn't it?" he said, laughing and finishing off his scotch.
"My father was that kind of a man. It didn't matter how busy he was or how many things he had going -- he always took the time to make sure Mom and us kids were happy. That actually bothered her sometimes, because she was pretty damned independent." She stopped and wondered why she was telling him this.
Greg listened to her, picking up on the past tense in her words and feeling the sadness in her voice. "Tell me more about them," he said.
"Nothing to tell, really," she said, clamming up as always.
"Let's play a game," he said, turning his body to face her, his leg brushing against her feet. "It's kind of like 'show me yours and I'll show you mine', only you tell me what that big hurt is that you've been holding onto forever, and I'll, in turn, tell you mine."
She slugged back the rest of her scotch, feeling it spinning her head and fogging her judgment; and yet, it didn't matter. She felt like a dam ready to burst.
"You first," she said, figuring that if his wasn't really good then she'd just make something up to satisfy him.
"Okay. Two Christmases ago I was in Phoenix and wondered what the hell I was doing there when everyone else was off enjoying the holidays. I jumped on the next plane back and decided to surprise my wife and I did. I really did surprise her -- her and Jeff Wilson, that is."
Virginia's jaw dropped open. "Jeff Wilson? The Director of Finance?"
"Ex-Director, and one in the same."
"Your wife was sleeping with him?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it sleeping. It was more like walking into the kitchen and finding him fucking her over the table."
She tried to pick up on any emotion in his voice but received little. She remembered when Wilson had suddenly resigned his position from the company -- two years ago, now that she thought about it.
"I'm not sure which one of them I miss the most," he said. "He was a damned good accountant." He smiled at his attempt at a joke, but the smile wasn't returned.
"What did you do?"
"After the initial shock wore off, I thought about just turning around and walking out, since neither of them knew I was standing there. I just about did that, but then the shocked and hurt feelings were overtaken by the rage I felt. So I cleared my throat loud enough for them both to hear. The look on their faces was just about enough to satisfy me -- just about." He got up, took her mug that was swinging from her hand and moved back to her desk. "The rest is history, I guess. She didn't need me, I didn't need her, and although I did need Jeff, I had seen him seen him naked and could no longer look at him across the boardroom table. So I told him that he could either resign or find himself in the big scandal of being fired."
"Could you have exposed that?" she asked.
He stopped pouring and thought about his answer before speaking. "I doubt it. My goal, selfish as it may be, is to keep this company above reproach, or seemingly so. It didn't matter; he left quietly, and she's now living in France, which is almost far enough away."
He handed her the teddy mug, then pulled up her high-back leather chair and dropped himself into it. Virginia stretched out her legs, crossing them at her ankles. She looked down at her red skirt and smiled; she had hoped that the color would put her into the spirit of the season -- what a dork she was.
"Your turn," he said, putting his feet up on the windowsill and leaning back in the chair.
"I'll tell you this, but I never want to discuss it again; do you understand?" He nodded in response. She drained her mug and took a deep breath, trying not to think about what she was doing.
"We always visited my grandparents in Florida before Christmas; always, without fail. But when I was eighteen I had a job clerking at a department store, so I bowed out of the trip; I wanted to be a responsible adult and do the job I had committed myself to. They were proud of me and left with my sisters, promising to return on Christmas Eve as always. I worked until 5:00 on Christmas Eve and then rushed home to turn on the Christmas lights and get out the treats before they got home. Christmas was always a big deal around our house. I turned tree lights on, cranked up the Christmas tunes, lit the fire and waited. Time moved slowly as I waited and then started to worry. By 11:00 I became overcome with anxiety, feeling caged. I wanted to call Gramma and ask what time they had left, but I didn't want to worry her, so I paced around the house, my mood growing darker with each passing second." She looked at him, tears silently sliding down her cheeks; it was all he could do to sit there instead of rushing over and holding her. She started talking again, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes became a darker shade of blue, swimming in tears. "I waited all night for them to come home; I'm still waiting."
If there was such a thing as being able to feel your own heart break, Greg had just felt it. He put his mug on her desk and rolled himself over to her in the chair. He didn't touch her -- he just looked at her. He was afraid that if he said anything he'd choke up. Before him now sat the one person who he'd never thought he'd see the inside of. She was always friendly -- approachable, but never, ever personal.
"Virginia..." he managed to whisper.
"I didn't tell you that for your sympathy, Greg; I was just fulfilling my end of the game."
He nodded and, without thinking, his hand moved to her cheek and his thumb brushed away the new tears. She looked like a fragile doll and his arms ached to hold her.
Virginia pondered his thumb rubbing against her skin. She missed the touch of a man; maybe if he weren't who he was she might have pursued it, just for the sake of the bodily contact that she ached for.
She was lost in her thoughts as he moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her lips to his, kissing her softly. Her mind raced, but her body reacted as her lips moved against his. His other hand moved around her waist, pulling her closer to him as her tongue traced his bottom lip. His hands were warm against her skin and she began sinking against him, moving to the edge of the window ledge as their kiss became urgent.
Suddenly her mind clicked back to reality and she pulled back from him, her breathing slightly ragged.
"I told you that I don't want your sympathy," she whispered.
He laughed and she frowned. "You think that I want to make love to you for sympathy's sake? If that's the case, Virginia, then you're not as smart as I thought you were."
She pushed herself back against the window, trying to regain her composure. She had always been attracted to him, but she had admitted that openly only to herself. She had always found him that way, but that wasn't exactly the point.
"You know, Virginia, inside of you is a person who is begging to get out. A little girl who never had the chance to grow up without dragging around a lot of hurt and pain. If you'd let her out -- show the world that inner you -- you'd probably feel better."
"Thank you, Dr. Joyce Brothers," she said sarcastically. She knew he was right. Her pain brought on fear, the fear of giving herself to someone else. She couldn't open herself up and love someone without thinking that they, too, would just leave her.
He laughed and sat back in his chair. He probably shouldn't have kissed her, but he could still taste her on his lips and didn't really care.
"I don't feel sorry for you -- not in the way that you think."
"Then how?"
"Well, I see a woman who has everything going for her, and I know that she is going to go far, whether it be here or somewhere else. I've also just seen that she's actually human, and locked up inside of her are feelings that she needs to deal with." He watched her watching him intently, not saying a word. "If we are being totally honest here, then I'll admit that I've always been attracted to you, from the first moment I saw you trying not to laugh at my Barbie comment."
She smiled in remembrance and leaned her head back against the window, staring at the ceiling. She wished that she knew exactly what it was that he wanted from her. She'd worked with him for seven years now and knew how he operated. He wasn't the kind to force himself on anyone, whether it was business oriented or not. If she had sex with him, what would it change? It would make their business trips together really stressed or very pleasurable -- it could go either way. She wasn't looking for a partner, and certainly not one like Greg -- someone that she was pretty sure that she could fall for.
"Virginia?"
Her blue eyes met his. "Yes?"
"If you want me to go, I'll understand. I'll even leave you the rest of my Christmas present. It changes nothing really, except that I know a little more about you and visa versa." He smiled. "Plus I know what a good kisser you are, although I'd always suspected that."
In a split second she made up her mind and didn't give herself a chance to second-guess her decision. She quickly put her thoughts into a short lecture.
"Okay, here's the deal.""You want to make love to me and I want to have sex with you. It's Christmas Eve, the worst fucking day of the year, and I'm depressed, and I don't think it's one of your favorite holidays either. So together we are two lonely people who have consumed half a bottle of scotch and find each other attractive, so I propose this: we throw caution to the wind, fuck like bunnies, and afterwards we go our separate ways and we never discuss this again."
He listened to her with great amusement. "That's quite a proposal, Virginia. How come one of those have never come across my desk before? I would have accepted it readily... before."
She looked at him, cocking her head to one side. "Before? Before what?"
"Before I found out that you were real," he said.
"Oh, give it up, Greg! I've always been real. A real woman, doing real work, living a real life, just like everyone else in this place."
He leaned forward in his chair. "I disagree. You've always been real up to a point, but every time someone gets remotely close you back away, securing yourself back behind your glass walls. You allow others to see you, but in no case are they allowed to get any closer than those walls allow."
"How do you know this? How could you possibly know so much about me?" Her eyes challenged him as she could feel herself getting mad. There was only one person who even remotely knew anything about her and that was Mack, and apparently he had a big mouth.
"Let me explain something to you, Virginia. There are certain people in this company who, for business reasons, I've always kept an eye on. I believe that people will perform to their best -- and sometimes exceed that, if they are challenged -- and never get the chance to become bored or too comfortable in their jobs. You're one of those people, and you always have been. I've watched you for the past seven years go from a graphic designer lost in a crowd to where you are now. And never, for one moment, think that your promotions have had anything to do with how I think about you personally, or that I've had some kind of hidden desire to bring you up the corporate ladder just so I could pounce on you. I do have an interest in you, and that's because you're a key player here and I respect what you do and how you do it." He took a deep breath, making sure he still had her attention and then continued. "And now, after all of these years, I just kissed you, and I apologize if that somehow offended you; but it happened."
"Are you finished?" she asked.
He thought. "I think so, yes."
"Good. Now was that a yes or a no to my proposal?"
He blinked. He started wondering if she had multiple personalities, and then she grinned at him and he knew that he was forgiven.
"It's a yes, except for one thing."
"What?"
"It's not something that I want to forget or not discuss, Virginia, unless I'm really bad or can't get it up or something." She laughed and then he did, knowing that getting it up wasn't going to be a problem, since he had been semi-erect since he had kissed her.
"What if we both really enjoy it? Where does that leave us?" she asked quite honestly.
"Having sex in the stationery closet and photocopying our butts after hours?"
She laughed and looked at him. It actually felt good being with someone who understood why she was the way she was -- someone else who had always put business first, although for a different reason.
"So how do you want to do this?" she asked.
"Geeze, Virginia, you're taking all the romance out of this," he replied, smiling at her.
He reached over and took her hands, pulling her off the window ledge and onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned over to kiss him and he pulled her close to him. Their bodies pressed together as they kissed, their tongues exploring each other's mouths. She pushed her fingers up through his hair as his one hand rubbed up and down her back. His lips moved from hers and started kissing down her neck. She leaned her head back, exposing her neck to him, feeling his tongue trailing down her skin until he reached the nape of her neck. He pulled her closer, leaning back in the chair, and then grabbed her firmly as the chair started falling backwards and tipped over. They spilled onto the floor, stunned for a moment, and then started laughing.
"Think that was a sign?" he asked as he pushed the chair off of them. "Are you okay?"
"Very fine," she said, looking down at him. "You're pretty soft to land on."
"Don't use the word 'soft' when we're about to make love, Virginia. It's not good for a guy's ego, you know."
She laughed, wondering why he kept referring to it as making love when it was really just sex. She sat up on his stomach and reached for his tie, pulling it out of the knot. Her fingers moved to his buttons and started releasing them one by one as he put his hands behind his head and watched her.
"Lean down here for a second," he said.
She leaned down and his hands moved to the clip that held her hair up and he undid it. Her hair dropped around her face and he smiled, telling her that was better. She smiled and sat back up, undoing the last of his buttons after pulling his shirttails out. Pushing his shirt back, she let her hands run over his strong chest, her fingers running though his sparse chest hair.
Shifting down until she was straddling his thighs, she reached for his belt and unhooked it. He watched her, the look of determination on her face both amusing him and turning him on. He felt her push the button of his pants out of the hole and then slowly pull down his zipper and his body shook. His cock was pressed hard against his briefs as her fingers hooked under the waistband of his pants and underwear.
She started tugging them down. "Lift your hips."
He obeyed her order, feeling his cock spring free as she exposed it. She pulled them down, shifting herself until they were around his knees and then sitting back down on him. She traced an invisible line up his cock and ran the pad of her finger around the swollen head.
"I never thought I'd be giving you a blow job," she said, taking his cock into her hand and moving it slowly up and down his shaft.
"I never thought I'd ever get one," he said, moaning as her fingers tightened around his throbbing cock.
"From me?"
"No, in general," he said, arching his back slightly as she continued to stroke.
Virginia considered his words. "You mean you've never had one before?"
"Never," he said, his eyes meeting hers.
"Your wife?"
"She had a lot of very expensive dental work and didn't want to risk it -- or so she said."
"And no one has ever done this for you? You've never had a secretary under your desk?"
He laughed. "Well, if you'll think about it, my secretary is about fifty-nine years old and probably has dental concerns of her own."
Virginia smiled and wondered if he was telling her the truth. He could tell her thoughts by the look on her face.
"I'm serious, Virginia. I haven't been with many women, and the ones I have been with have never offered and I've never asked."
She shuffled down his body, moving herself between his legs, thinking it would have been more comfortable to get rid of his pants. Her eyes locked onto his as she held his cock straight up and ran her tongue from base to tip. His body shook, and when her tongue moved around the head of his cock, his hips pushed up. Virginia pulled his cock down and pressed the head between her lips. She tightened them around it and flicked her tongue at his skin.
Greg moaned at the sensation of her hot wet mouth around his cock. The feeling was incredible, and he closed his eyes momentarily before opening them again to watch as his cock disappeared between her lips, and then he moaned again.
As she lowered her mouth on his cock, she moved one hand to his balls and started rubbing her fingers gently against them. The head of his cock slid over the roof of her mouth and she moaned before pulling her head back, tightening her lips and sucking in hard. Greg's hips started to rise and fall, fucking her mouth slowly. The way her lips tightened around his cock, the way her forehead kept banging against his stomach, made him want to slam into her. It was a feeling that he had never experienced before. He moved his hands down to the back of her head, guiding her head up and down, although she didn't need any assistance.
Virginia gently squeezed his balls as she sucked on his cock harder, feeling it throbbing between her lips. Greg tugged gently at her hair, resisting the urge to drive his cock deeper into her mouth. He moaned as she pulled her head back, feeling her teeth graze his skin. The feeling combined with the visual became overwhelming and he locked his fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth off his cock. The cool air hit it and he shivered.
"Two more seconds of that, Virginia, and..."
She knew what he was about to say, and she wiggled out of his grasp and wrapped her lips back around his cock, taking it into her mouth deep and sucking on it hard. She took long, luxurious sucks, up and down before moving faster and tightening her lips firmly around his pounding hard flesh.
Greg tried to hold himself back, but it was impossible. With his fingers locked in her hair, he raised his hips and his body tensed for a second before he came in her mouth, shuddering hard. He could feel her hot mouth sucking in as he held the back of her head. Seconds later, he dropped himself back to the floor and watched as she slowly pulled her lips off of his cock.
"That was incredible," he whispered, panting hard as he said, "although a little unfair."
"Unfair how?" she asked, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock.
"Well, I was really hoping to actually be able to make love to you," he confessed.
Virginia laughed and crawled off of him, kneeling beside him and looking down. "That was foreplay. By the time we make it to the actual sex part, you'll be big and strong again, I promise."
"I dunno, Darling."I'm old, you know," he grinned at her and sat up, pulling off his shoes and then his pants and briefs. After pulling off his socks and shirt, he looked over at her, smiling. He stood up and held his hands out to her. She took his hands, and he pulled her up, immediately wrapping his arms around her and leaning down, kissing her softly. Her lips tasted like him, and she kissed him back hard, pressing her body against his, gently raking her nails down his bare back.
He moved his mouth from her lips, kissing across her cheek to her ear before whispering, "My turn."
Pulling back from her, he pretended to study her for a second. "Something's not right here," he muttered.
She looked at him with curiosity but didn't say a word. He muttered to himself and looked around her office.
"Ah ha!" he said, and walked over to her desk, retrieving the shiny red bow with the piece of mistletoe stuck to it. Grinning, he walked back to her and stuck the bow on the top of her head.
"There! Now I can unwrap my present," he said.
Virginia laughed, feeling a little goofy with a bow stuck to her head. Greg put his finger under her chin and lifted it, looking down into her eyes. Not a trace of the previous sadness could be found there; her eyes were dark blue and sparkling, just the way they should be. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.
"Yes, Gregory, there is a Santa Claus," he said, kissing her again.
His lips trailed down her long neck, kissing here and nibbling there. Her skin tasted sweet as his tongue swirled against it. As his lips nudged her skin, his fingers worked on the buttons of her blouse, slowly popping each one out of its hole. The back of her blouse had already come out of her skirt, and he pulled the front out and finished undoing the buttons. He stood up and slowly pulled her blouse back, exposing her silk and lace-covered breasts. With his palms against her chest, he pushed them up and over her shoulders, causing her blouse to slide gently down her arms and land silently on the floor. His fingers traced down the straps of her bra and over the lacy cups until they met between her breasts.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his fingers moving down between her breasts and unhooking the clasp. He let go of the material, and the cups slid back, her bare breasts slowly coming out of hiding. He sucked in his breath as her puffy pink nipples appeared. They were hard and swollen, begging for attention.
Picking up the straps, he pushed them backwards, and her bra fell down her arms and landed on her blouse. Both hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them softly as he felt her nipples rub against his palms. Virginia closed her eyes and moaned softly, feeling the heat of his soft hands on her body. Leaning down, he raised one of her breasts to his mouth, allowing his tongue to lightly trail over her erect nipple. He felt her body shudder as he teased the tip with his tongue. After running his tongue around her nipple, wetting it fully, he blew on it lightly. Virginia's hands flew to the back of his head and pulled him to her.
He opened his mouth and began nuzzling on her nipple, sucking it into his mouth while his tongue welcomed it in, playing with it. He pulled his head back, sucking in hard as he did and stretching her skin.
"Oh, God," she whispered, her fingers tugging at his hair.
Between his thumb and forefinger, Greg rolled her other nipple. When he squeezed in and pulled it out, Virginia moaned and pressed herself harder against him. His lips released her nipple, and he slowly kissed and licked his way over to her other nipple. Her fingers tugged harder on his hair as he paid her nipple the same attention that he had with the other one.
After nuzzling, he released her nipple and kissed down her breast, his tongue licking with long strokes at the underside of her breast. He rubbed his nose against her firm skin, enjoying the weight of her breast against his face.
His hands moved to her waist as he dropped to his knees. Sneaking a peek at her face, he felt his cock lurch at the expression on her face. Her eyes were closed, lips half-parted. His hands traced down her small waist and then moved back to fight with the button and zipper on her skirt. He smiled when he thought that the best Christmas presents were the ones that were hard to unwrap.
Virginia opened her eyes and looked down at him, "Need some help down there?" she said, smiling.
He managed to get the button undone and grinned at her. "Someone used too much tape."
The zipper slid down easily, and he pressed his palm against the small of her back, feeling the warmth of her skin and the softness of her body. Very slowly, his hands moved to the waistband of her skirt and pulled it down over her hips. He watched as her little white panties came into view. Like her bra, they were mostly lace and very small. The lace did little to hide what was behind the material. He could smell her, and he fought the urge to move faster. He wanted to unwrap Virginia very slowly.
She felt his hands moving down her thighs, following her skirt as it fell. Looking down, she watched his face as he removed her skirt. The excitement was building inside her, and she wanted to grab the back of his head and pull his face against her pussy, but she controlled herself. Instead, she played with his hair with one hand and tugged on one of her nipples with the other.
Greg wrapped his hands around one of her tiny ankles and slid his hands up her stockings, over her knee and up her thigh to the top of it. At the top of her thigh-high stocking, he rubbed gently, feeling the top of his one hand lightly brushing against her panties. He could feel the wetness against his skin, and he smiled. With great patience, he moved his hands down, slowly rolling the stocking down, exposing her beautiful leg. As he rolled the stocking down, he kissed her thigh and felt her fingers pulling at his hair.
Virginia lifted her foot, and he peeled off the stocking and moved to her other leg. Again, he ran his hands up her leg, but this time, when he reached the top, he leaned against her and tugged on the band with his teeth. His hot breath against her skin made her moan and press against him. He was driving her insane, which she suspected was his goal. Greg tugged the stocking down to her ankle with his teeth, stopping now and then to plant a kiss on various parts of her leg.
She lifted her foot, and he pulled off the stocking and tossed it over his shoulder, and it landed on her desk. He looked up at Virginia, who was watching him with great interest; she raised an eyebrow as her stocking hit her desk.
"That's part of the fun of Christmas," he said in self-defense. "You get to toss the wrapping all over the place, and the cleaning lady will pick it all up later."
Virginia rolled her eyes and was about to say something when she felt his hands sliding up the backs of her thighs. Greg watched her, immensely enjoying the fact that his touch was turning her on so much. He thought for a moment and then stood up on his knees. Holding her hips, he turned her around and got his first glimpse of her beautiful ass. He moaned and pressed his lips against one of her half-covered cheeks. Remembering his plan, he pushed her forward and followed on his knees until she reached the desk.
He took one of her ankles and pulled it to the side, making her spread her feet apart. When he was happy with their placement, he rubbed his hand up over her ass to her back and gently pushed her until she was lying down on the top of her desk.
"Don't even think about reading that report while you're up there," he quipped, trying to sound serious.
"Okay," she said, her breath slightly ragged, "but from this angle I can see a lot of dust on my computer screen."
He laughed and lightly slapped her ass. Kneeling behind her, he grabbed her hips and pulled her out a little. Her ass waved in front of his face, her panties barely covering it. Running his hands over her hips, he picked up the tiny waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down over her ass, moaning as it came into view. He dropped the panties to the floor and began kissing her cheeks. Virginia moaned and pushed back against his face.
He wiggled up on his knees until they were between her feet, and when he sat back, he caught his breath and felt his cock jump in response to what he saw. Just below her firm ass were her swollen pussy lips, hanging down between her thighs. Her lips were bare and shiny from her juices. Reaching up, he very lightly ran his finger against her swollen flesh. Her body shook as she pushed back, causing his finger to slip slightly between them. Her skin was soft, hot, and soaked. He pulled his finger back and brought it to his mouth, sucking on it and tasting what he knew he needed a lot more of.
With his forehead against her ass, he pushed his tongue out and licked her pussy lips, feeling her cream sliding down his chin as he parted the lips with his tongue and ran it up and down. Virginia moaned and moved her feet farther apart as she started rocking against his face. She moved back and forth slowly, feeling his tongue poke inside of her; then it moved up and circled her swollen clit, and then slid back down. Greg tried to bend his neck back further, but it wasn't working. He moved back and heard her whimper. Quickly he reached over and pulled her chair over, grabbing her hips and turning her towards it. Virginia moved and bent down over the chair.
"Perfect," he said. The lower position exposed her pussy to him completely. She moved her feet apart, and he slipped back up behind her legs and drove his tongue into her. He could feel her tightening around his tongue as he wiggled it inside of her.
With his hands on her ass cheeks, he started pushing her forward, letting his tongue slide up between her lips until her clit was between his lips.He sucked it into his mouth, holding it tightly between his lips as his tongue flicked hard at it. Virginia moaned and pushed down, rubbing against his face, his nose rubbing against her opening and becoming covered with her cream. He released her clit and moved his head back, lapping at her juices as he pulled back. He licked her sweetness from his lips and admired his view once again. Her clit was now so swollen that it was poking out from between her lips. He looked down briefly at his cock and knew that she was right -- there wouldn't be a problem.
Greg moved his finger up and slowly pressed the tip into her wet cunt. He circled her opening, teasing her. She moaned and pushed back, trying to drive his finger into her. He moved, not allowing her to do what she wanted, and that made her whimper.
Her whimpers and moans were driving him insane. He'd never had a lover who was so vocal before, and he had to admit that it certainly added to the pleasure when you knew that you were definitely pleasing your partner.
He pressed the tip of his finger in and felt her pussy automatically grab it. In one fast stroke he drove his finger into her cunt until it disappeared. Virginia groaned, her pussy holding his finger in so tight that he could barely pull it back out. Her pussy was incredibly wet and slick, and as he started pumping his finger in and out of her, he added another one and fucked her hard with the two of them.
He moved his other hand around her thigh to her clit and rubbed it gently, smearing her cream all over it. She was moaning loudly, slamming her ass back against him as he upped his tempo and drove his fingers in faster, her clit sliding between his other fingers. Seeing her ass waving in front of him was just too much to ignore. He kissed and licked her cheeks as he wiggled her fingers inside of her.
"Oh, God!" she screamed -- probably loud enough to alert anyone in the city that she was about to have an orgasm. "Greg... Greg... I'm going to cum!"
The words had barely left her lips when she moved her feet together, clamping her thighs around his hand and squeezing. Her powerful thighs held his fingers deep inside of her cunt as she came. He could feel the tightness around his fingers, muscles contracting hard, pumping around his fingers before feeling a warm flood against them. He had never felt anything like it before and it was unbelievable.
He nibbled at her cheeks until she finished, slowly releasing her grip on his fingers and moving her feet back apart. She was panting hard as she held onto her chair and tried to catch her breath. While she was doing that, he leaned in and lapped at her pussy, tasting what she had just offered him on his fingers.
"My God," she whispered.
Greg smiled and gave a long lick up her ass before standing up behind her. Virginia pushed herself up and leaned back against him, trying to steady her shaky legs. Greg wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned down to kiss her neck. She moved her hands back to his hips and ground herself back against his cock.
"I want to make love to you, Virginia," he whispered in her ear.
Her reply was scratching her long nails across his hips and a little whimper as she pushed herself back, grinding his cock into the small of her back. He unwrapped his arms and slowly turned her around to look into her passion-fired eyes.
"Say yes," he whispered.
"Yes."
He took her hands and led her to the couch, kicking his overcoat off it. She was about to lie down on it when he stopped her, scooting in front of her and lying on his back, his knees bent as his feet pressed against the arm of the couch. He smiled and offered her his hand. Taking it, Virginia moved over and was about to get up on the couch and straddle his body when his hand moved to her hip and turned her around. He pulled her backwards and then down until she was lying on top of him, her back against his chest. She moved her legs to either side of his and felt the head of his cock rubbing against her ass. He wrapped his arms around her waist and slowly slid his hands up over her ribs to her breasts. Gently he squeezed them, her nipples hard against his palms as she shimmied down a little, his cock sliding between her pussy lips.
As he massaged her breasts, he sucked on her earlobe, listening to her quick breathing. Virginia raised her hips and then shifted down a little more before pushing down. The head of Greg's cock pressed into her, stretching her as she pressed down harder. Greg raised his hips and pressed his knees up, driving his cock into her hard and listening to her moan.
Her pussy was wet and tight and he savored the feeling of it surrounding his throbbing cock. But Virginia didn't want to savor anything, and she lowered her hands to his hips, digging her nails into his flesh and banging down on him. Together they started moving faster, his hips banging against her ass as his cock moved in and out of her cunt.
He loved the feeling of her on top of him, feeling her body hard against his as his fingers started working on pulling at her nipples. He pulled back, pushing his ass deep into the couch cushion before ramming his hips forward and driving his cock so deep into her pussy that he could feel her lips against the base of his cock.
Virginia moaned and pressed down, holding his cock inside her tight, enjoying the throbbing feeling as it lurched inside of her. She could feel Greg's breath against her neck, his heart beating hard against her back as he fucked her. She moved a hand to her pussy, running a finger between her swollen lips and rubbing it against her engorged clit. She stroked her clit with her thumb and stretched her fingers down, rubbing them against his wet cock as it slid in and out, the sounds of her wetness filling the room.
"You feel so good," he moaned into her neck, pumping his hips up harder.
Virginia moved her hands over his and pulled them off of her breasts, pushing them down to his sides. Leaning up, she reached for his legs, putting her hands behind his bent knees and pulling herself forward. Her body pressed down hard, impaling herself on his cock. They each moaned, holding the position for a moment. Virginia held his legs and pulled hers back until she was sitting up on her knees and Greg moved his legs up until his knees were completely bent.
With his hands on her hips and her on his knees, she started moving slowly up and down. Greg leaned his head up, watching as her pussy swallowed his cock. He moved his hands up to her waist, holding onto her tightly, and pushed her up and brought her down hard.
Virginia bounced up and down, her pussy taking his cock in completely and then holding it as she pulled herself up. They moved faster, each downward motion becoming harder and more powerful. Greg raised his hips as she moved down, and instead of moving back up again, she pressed down on him, grinding against him from side to side.
A low moan escaped her throat as she tossed her head back and closed her eyes. Her body tensed, feeling the waves wash over her. Greg pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around her waist as she started to cum. Her pussy started to contract around his cock and he knew he wasn't far behind her. With his forehead pressed against her back, he felt her nails dig into his knees as her whole body shook hard and she let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead.
Her pussy was crushing his cock, pressing around it as she started sliding forward and back, whimpering continuously. His arms tightened around her waist as he attempted to thrust back into her while she rocked hard against him.
"Virginia!" he groaned, his strong arms holding her tight as his forehead banged against her back. For a second he stopped breathing, feeling the tightness in his balls before he tensed and then shook, cumming deep inside of her as she kept rocking on him. His cock jerked inside of her and he moaned against her back. Her skin felt hot against his forehead as he tried to catch his breath.
"Greg?" she whispered between pants.
"Yes, Baby?"
"Could you loosen your grip? You're gonna snap me in half."
He immediately unlocked his arms from around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Sorry," he whispered.
Virginia moved her legs out in front and leaned back against him, feeling his cock still inside of her.
"Come back here," he said, pushing her forward until she slipped off his lap. She turned around and dropped herself into his outstretched arms. He pulled her down onto the couch and held her close. They lay there, looking at each other. Greg pushed her hair back from her face and smiled at her.
"You're one hell of a woman, Virginia Wilder," he said, stroking her hair.
There were so many things that he wanted to say, but he was afraid he'd scare her off. His fingers pushed back into the bow that was still stuck in her hair and he laughed.
"That's gonna hurt when you pull it out," he whispered.
"Then I guess it'll have to stay there until I shower, and I'll stand under the water until it falls out."
She felt so relaxed, lying side by side, pressed firmly against him. Her hand rubbed his back as she gazed into his eyes. There were so many things she had never seen in them before, feelings that she didn't want to face; but she knew that she'd have to face them, and soon. There was no time to turn back, and the thought of that alone scared the hell out of her. For now she was just going to enjoy the afterglow of their lovemaking.
She smiled; she had called it lovemaking and not sex, which meant she was in really big trouble.
"What are you smiling for?" he asked.
"I was just thinking that Francis Church was right."
Greg reached down and pulled his overcoat up and over them. He snuggled against her.
"When he said, 'Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus?' Is that what I've become to you, Virginia? A fat man without the red suit?A man who plays with elves and reindeer and only comes once a year, and his wife isn't even around for it?"
Virginia looked at him with mild amusement. "I can't wait until your blood heads back up to your brain."
He grinned. "Tell me what Mr. Church said that made you smile."
"When he said, 'He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus!' He was right, because tonight I once again feel like I have some kind of belief in the season. A faith of sorts, I guess." She looked at him and laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling; but it really does feel good to finally be able to tell someone about my pain, and to feel that they understand; maybe the awesome lovemaking didn't hurt either."
Greg looked at her warmly. "He said something else that was equally true."
"What's that?"
"The next line: 'It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias.' I, for one, cannot imagine my life with no Virginias in it."
He pulled her close, pressing his lips against her forehead and feeling more than he had ever allowed himself to feel before. Maybe it was the scotch, or maybe it was the release of fantastic sex, but he didn't think it was either.
"Virginia?" She looked up at him. "I know that in your proposal you stated that we were to... uhhh, what were those words? Oh, yeah, 'fuck like bunnies and afterwards we go our separate ways.' But I'd like to renegotiate that point, please."
"Tell you what," she said, stretching, "we can discuss it over breakfast."
He smiled down at her as church bells outside rang the midnight hour.
Leaning down, he kissed her forehead as they listened to each bell chime, holding each other tight. She sighed, her head resting on his shoulder as she listened to him recite what would become her favorite part from the famous 1897 editorial.
"Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding."
-END- | 5 |
7,906 | FRESH PRODUCE | "Ma'am, are you okay?"
Nora looked up from the cold, linoleum floor where she lay blinded by the bright fluorescent lights. For a brief instant, she thought she had died and gone to heaven.
"May I help you? Do you need medical assistance?"
As her vision began to focus, Nora realized she was staring directly into the biggest pair of dark blue eyes she had ever seen. His gentle face was encased by ringlets of jet-black hair.
The Angel Gabriel had come to bring her to heaven and she was -- lying flat on her "ass."
"I think I need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!" she murmured.
He smiled and extended a slightly muscular arm to help her to her feet. The entire back of her dress was drenched with chocolate milk.
"What happened?" he asked.
She could feel her face becoming beet-red. This was surely the most embarrassing moment of her life, but Thank Heavens she wasn't going to be on "Candid Camera." She hoped.
"Can't be for certain. One never knows why one falls. I am known to be a klutz." Nora suddenly wished he would just vanish and leave her in peace during her moment of pathetic self-pity and humiliation.
"Hey, guess there's no use crying over spilled milk!" he replied.
His response didn't help at all. It just increased her desire to cry.
"Um... that was pretty lame, sorry. Look, are you sure you're okay? Perhaps we should call the manager and fill out a form or something...you could file a lawsuit if you're hurt."
"No, no, I am fine -- really. The only thing bruised here is my ego." She refrained from making any negative comments about the degree to which her well-padded, but shapely derriere had cushioned the fall.
Now it was his turn not to laugh.
"Well," she said, "Welcome to Cliché City! Now we're even. One-to-one. Tit-for-Tat."
"Yeah, like meeting in a grocery store isn't the most cliché place of all. This is getting so corny I am going to introduce myself. Hi. I am Henley."
"Hi, Henley, I am Nora. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, Nora. Can I treat you to another carton of chocolate milk?"
"I feel like a complete idiot. A well-educated, mature woman drinking chocolate milk," Nora blushed.
"Hey, I drink it too. Man, I still eat Pop Tarts." He glowed at the thought. Henley had dimples the size of half-dollars.
"Pop Tarts! I used to love the chocolate ones with the marshmallow centers," Nora laughed.
"Not as much as I adored Captain Crunch cereal," Henley added.
Nora's brown eyes lit up like sparklers. "I ate that every morning for ten years." She paused. "No wonder my growth was stunted."
It had occurred to her that Henley was towering above her. She was at least a foot shorter. He must have been 6'2", maybe more. She felt like Sprout next to the Jolly Green Giant.
This reminded her: she needed some French cut green beans.
"Wanna go grocery shopping, Madame?" he confidently asked.
"There is a God," Nora replied.
"Pardon me?" Henley looked confused.
"Nothing...I'd love to go shopping with you, Sir. If you don't mind being seen with a woman with a chocolate-covered butt."
Henley laughed. A good hearty, fiber-enriched laugh. "Not at all -- my pleasure."
They began to stroll down Aisle Five, their carts side by side.
"Soup." Nora stopped.
"Soup, uh, soup is good. Soup is good for you."
"Yes, that is what they say. Hmmm. I think I'll stick to basic tomato," Nora said.
"You say ta-may-toe, I say ta-mai-toe," Henley sang off-key under his breath.
Aisle Six beckoned.
"Fruit." Henley stopped. "Canned fruit."
"Yes, canned fruit is good," Nora added, "I like peaches. Pineapples, I can deal with pineapples too. I like the ones shaped like little rings."
"Peaches and cream," Henley chimed in, "that would be heavenly...used to stick my tongue through the hole."
"I beg your pardon?" Nora's eyes were wider than ever.
"The pineapple rings, you never did that as a kid?"
"No, we just used them as life preservers for our Barbie dolls. So, Henley, do you live around here?"
"Ah, the BIG question. And I wanted to ask you first. Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, I do. Live right down the road at the St. Tammany Apartments."
"NO WAY!" she exclaimed.
"Way."
"I live there - so you can't possibly."
"Why? Is the St. Tammany too small for the both of us?"
"Too much chocolate milk in one place. Maybe we should lay off of it."
Henley laughed again. Nora surmised that his choosy mother had chosen Jif, by the depth of his dimples. He looked around forty -- give or take a couple of years.
He could have been reading her mind. "How old are you Nora, if you don't mind me asking."
"Fifty-four!" Nora exclaimed.
"You're fifty-four? Wow. You look fabulous. I am hitting the chocolate milk again tomorrow."
Nora giggled. "No silly, I meant the peas are only fifty-four cents a can. Not bad."
"No, not bad for a can of peas. Ever notice that frozen peas always look a funny shade of green?"
"I'm thirty-eight."
"Years of age or thirty-eight cents a can?" He winked at her.
"Very funny. Don't let me forget the coffee."
"Yes, Ma'am." Henley stopped and grabbed a bag of rice. "I'm thirty-nine."
"Wow. Marvelous. Someone my own age," Nora mused as she picked up a box of saltines and tossed it into her basket.
"Like you said, there is a God." Henley groaned as one of his grocery cart wheels suddenly stiffened, forcing him to delicately negotiate the turn into Aisle Seven.
"I really hate it when that happens," Nora remarked. Henley suppressed the urge to complain about the absence of lubrication.
"Fresh Produce!" Henley exclaimed as though it were a truly novel concept.
"These red grapes look fabulous! Look how ripe and succulent."
"HEY MISSY! Don't be using words like "RIPE" and "SUCCULENT" around me or I'll be squeezing the "CANTELOUPES" next!"
Henley began to juggle three russet potatoes in the air.
Nora was trying to feign an interest in the bananas as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was so handsome, so friendly and so spontaneously funny.
"You look pretty fascinated by those bananas there. Looking for a REAL big one?"
"Henley, are you trying to flirt with me?" Nora batted her eyes, ever-so-subtly. Or perhaps ever-so-evidently.
"Yes, I believe I am. It's not every day you meet a beautiful, brown-eyed brunette with a chocolate covered butt -- a nice butt, I might add."
"Thank you." It was a royal flush.
"You are beautiful." Henley dropped all three of the russet potatoes on the ground. His expression turned serious and dream-like as they stared into one another's eyes.
Nora felt as frozen as the vegetables in Aisle Ten.
With the speed of a dribble of Heinz Ketchup slowly emerging from a bottle in a TV commercial, Henley reached over and kissed Nora briefly but passionately on the lips. Her ice cream was beginning to melt. Any minute now it would be turning to liquid and start seeping out of the edges of her box.
"Let's get out of here," he whispered in her ear.
Nora's common sense was telling her that leaving with Henley might not be the most sensible idea in the world. But a rush of adventure had came over her. Grocery store fever.
"Okay," she said seductively. A little too seductively, she thought.
Henley took her hand and led her down Aisle Eight.
"Where are we going?" Nora asked.
"Wanna live life, really live it?"
"Yes, I always have -- what?"
"Tired of feeling trapped in the same environment, of living in the Saint Tammany Apartments, your mundane job, shopping for chocolate milk and tomato soup and overripe bananas?"
"Yes, yes!" Nora was becoming another person.
"C'mon!" He led her to the back of the store. The Meat Department.
He pushed the swinging doors open to the butcher shop. No one was back there. It was very cold and raw meat was hanging everywhere. Henley led her through another door.
"How do you know your way around here? Do this often?" Nora asked, her pulse rate flying.
"Worked here as a teenager through high school. There is the stock room."
He pulled her into the room and shut the door. It was dark.
Henley immediately began to kiss her, deeply and sensually. Nora let go and allowed her passion to take over. It was scary, sexy, adventurous, and dangerous. She knocked over a couple of boxes of Cracker Jacks as Henley began to unbutton the front of her dress. He kissed her neck and ran his tongue slowly down to her breasts.Nora could feel herself wanting more from him as he ran his hand under her skirt and into her panties. Their breathing became faster and heavier. Nora was running her hands through Henley's mass of curls as their lips locked in an inseparable embrace.
Before she knew it, she was on the floor, amongst cartons of chocolate chip cookies and boxes of gingersnaps. Nora's dress fell to the cement floor, as she lay in her matching black panties and bra in front of Henley's hungry eyes. The thought that someone might walk in and catch them any minute made her as creamy as a Twinkie.
"Lick me like the middle of an Oreo," she cooed.
"Baby, I will eat the best part first and save the rest for last," Henley replied as he pulled down her lace panties and ran his hand between her wet thighs. His fingers easily slid from her buttocks to her vagina, where his fingers nestled deep inside her love hole. She moaned in ecstasy, then spread her legs as wide as she possibly could, almost hoping someone would walk in and watch - in all her glory.
"Oh Nora," Henley mumbled as he gently massaged her anus with one hand and rubbed her clitoris with the other.
"Henley, oh God, that feels wonderful," she exclaimed in pleasant surprise.
"Not as wonderful as it smells," he began to use his tongue to dip into the exotic pudding that filled her pastry.
He pumped her vagina with his fingers, her juices flowing as he drank and sucked her round, hard almond in a sensual frenzy.
"You taste like heaven."
Nora gasped and shuddered, as she climaxed in his mouth – dripping -- like ice cream on a hot summer day. He relished in it, the icing to his cake.
Once her convulsions subsided, her face became glazed over with a sultry look, as she frantically unzipped Henley's pants and freed his tortured, hard member.
"Hot dog!" She giggled and teased him with her soft touch. He raised his body to her beautiful face, touching her cheeks lightly with his Oscar Mayer Wiener.
Nora took his penis into her open, full mouth like a popsicle. She sucked him hard and ran her tongue along his needy shaft, until he was begging for mercy and his hot, hearty soup came out like an open floodgate, filling her mouth as it dribbled everywhere else too. They kissed passionately, tasting each other's delights as though it had been catered just for them.
Click!
They could see the lights under the doorway.
"Hello?" a deep, older voice asked. "Anybody in there?"
Henley put his hand over Nora's mouth. She could feel her heart beating against her chest as she tried not to breathe.
"Hello? Hello?"
After a minute, they could hear the intruder's footsteps moving away. Close call.
They began to giggle. Their moment was gone. Like adolescents they hastily dressed, sneaked out, back to the safety of their grocery carts.
Minutes later, Henley helped Nora put her groceries into the trunk of her car. The wind was cool that night, blowing a breeze through her long, brown hair. The back of her dress had become stiff where the milk had dried.
"Henley?" Nora said.
"Yes?"
"What happened in there, I just don't know if it was right. I got carried away and . . . 'All's well that ends well.'"
He looked deep into her eyes. "Nora, I thought you wanted it."
"Yes, I mean, no.
"What? You can't say it wasn't good."
"I'm not saying it wasn't good, I am just saying . . . Hell, I just met you! You're a complete stranger. I need time to get to know you. I like you, and I want to do this right."
"It's okay. I guess I got carried away too," Henley replied.
"Can we start over?"
"Sure," Henley said. "Sure. You are absolutely right. I like you too and I want this to be more than just . . ."
"Sex?" Nora filled in the blank.
"Yeah, but you are sexy, you know. Little Miss Cantaloupes."
"Okay, Henley, enough. Ask me to dinner. No more stock room sex, at least not tonight."
"No stock room sex. I promise. It's a deal."
He began to rummage through her shopping bag.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Henley pulled out her new carton of chocolate milk and let it fall to the ground. Chocolate splattered all over his clean khaki pants.
"We are starting from the beginning, Miss."
"No use crying," Nora said, standing in the puddle.
"No use crying," he repeated.
"Hi, I'm Nora." She reached out her hand.
"Hi, I'm Henley." He lightly kissed it.
"Nice to meet you," Nora said. "Very nice to meet you."
They looked into each other's eyes and smiled. Then, Nora and Henley burst out laughing.
"That was a good one, Honey," Nora giggled. "The stock room? Did you really work in the stock room?"
Henley laughed. "Why yes, I did, Honey! I thought it was rather exciting! "But you didn't have to go and spill the milk!"
"Sweetheart, you didn't have to spill it AGAIN!" Nora chimed as she got into the passenger's side of their car.
Henley took the keys and got into the driver's side.
They drove off into the moonlight, covered in chocolate milk, holding hands, and smiling. As their car pulled away from the parking lot, they could hear an announcement on the supermarket's intercom system.
"Clean up on Aisle Two." | 3 |
7,954 | Corporate Backlash - The Corporation - Part Three | "Sir, would you mind if I sit on your desk to take the dictation?"
She paused, and as Jack gave no immediate response, in fact, he looked quite lost for words, she continued.
"My employer, I mean my previous employer, always preferred me to sit on the desk, and I have become quite uncomfortable taking dictation any other way." She smiled sweetly at him and waited for his response.
To say Jack was stunned would be an understatement, but he recovered enough of his cool to say, "Of course not."
His mind was racing now. He had always had to threaten and cajole the other girls to get what he wanted, and now Alice seemed to be making everything easy for him. It was a new situation for him, and he was, for the first time in a long time, uncertain of his next move.
Before he could even begin to think clearly about the situation, Alice sashayed right around his desk, hiked her tight skirt up a little, and perched herself right in front of him. She crossed one leg over the other, stocking rasped gently against stocking, and settled with a contented little sigh.
Jack just stared at the triangle of stocking top she had now exposed in this maneuver.
"What would be even more comfortable would be if I could just rest one foot on your leg. If you don't feel that would disturb your concentration?"
And then, as an afterthought, "Oh, silly me. I don't even know if you like to walk around while you dictate."
Jack was completely thrown - he muttered, "No, no, that is perfectly alright." The next moment, the beautiful stiletto shoe was placed on the top part of his thigh, and Alice said, "I am ready now, Sir, shall we begin?"
Jack cleared his throat, as if ready to speak, but nothing would come out. Alice started wriggling her foot around in his lap, and she gave him one of her smiles as she realized he was becoming erect. His hand moved slowly to caress the shapely leg in front of him. She did not stop him. He began to get back into his stride again as he allowed himself to relax into this new situation. His prick was throbbing, and he was getting excited much quicker than he had ever done before. Alice continued to move her foot rhythmically as Jack continued to lose control. His hand was just starting to move up her leg as he realized that if he did not stop her, he was going to come.
Too late, though. He spurted powerfully into his underpants and let out a throaty groan. Alice giggled and said, "Oh, I am so sorry! I think you have just had a little accident. I'll come back later when you feel more composed."
And with that, she slid down from his desk, picking up her handbag as she went and wiggled her way out of his office, only pausing for a second to say, "I'll be just outside if you want me."
"WANT HER!" he thought as the door closed. "WANT HER! Of course I want her, the little minx!" | 3 |
8,013 | Fit for Anything | "Can I please get dressed now?" he whispered.
Ignoring him, I turned to Nurse Crisp and gave her the details of Nigel's first exercise session - to commence immediately.
She was to take him to the exercise room, dress him in a rubber slimming suit, and supervise a one-hour session on the rowing machine, after which he could have a light lunch of lemon juice, salad, and dry slimming biscuits.
When I was sure that Nurse Crisp understood the regime I had decided upon for Nigel, I turned back to see that he was standing with his hands over his genitals.
"Nurse, a gown for Nigel, we wouldn't want him to catch cold."
Nurse Crisp picked up Nigel's clothes and left the room. We always confiscate their clothes to ensure no lapse in the dietary regulation. Otherwise, some of the patients would be sneaking out for snacks.
I returned to my desk and checked the file of the next patient while we waited for Nurse Crisp to return. She was an unconscionably long time, perhaps we were again short of freshly laundered gowns.
Nigel seemed ill at ease, subdued even, apparently concentrating on something at his feet as I surveyed him once again.
Nigel eagerly took the garment when Nurse Crisp eventually returned, and quickly slipped it on. I stood and tied the ribbons at the back as he was having some difficulty with them.
"Send in the next client on your way through, thank you Nurse."
They left, Nigel following Nurse Crisp, like an obedient little puppy.
I was adjusting an errant seam on my stocking and checking the suspender fastening when I discovered the next overweight executive standing, gawking, in the doorway.
"Ah... Bernard, isn't it? Come in and strip!" | 3 |
8,041 | Funeral | "I'm not sure how she managed to convince her father to let her wear that dress to a funeral, but I was glad she had." When she gets up to take a leak during the service, she winks and nods to the back of the church. Hmmm... Gives new meaning to the phrase "belief in an afterlife," doesn't it?
Perhaps the narrator offers the best summary: "Best blowjob I've ever had, wants me to fuck her in the ass, and she's a virgin. In a church, at a funeral. This has got to be a dream!"
Title: Sweet Inspiration
Tags:
Chapter:
Author: Shelby Bush
Text: Because of the death of his wife, Shelby Bush stopped posting stories on a.s.s. about a year ago. He's back with a "true interlude" about his romance with Beverly, a long-time friend who has recently become a lover.
This is not really an outstanding story - yet; but it concludes with a cryptic "--- not the end ---." And so we may yet see a fully developed story. However, even in its present incomplete format this story will be enjoyable to people who have followed Shelby's writings on this newsgroup and who will be glad to hear from him again.
Title: Porch
Tags:
Chapter:
Author: Crimson Dragon
Text: This author has written several very good stories recently. You can add this one to that list.
Michelle and Lara are professional women. Michelle is on the verge of becoming a partner in her law firm, but she sees life as devoid of the beauty and enthusiasm it should have. Lara has just broken up with her boyfriend. While comforting her friend, Michelle spontaneously expresses her love for her and scares her off. The main focus of the story is on the fear and other emotions that go through Michelle's mind as she tries to make sense out of this dangerous but beautiful new relationship.The scene in which they first consummate their love is extremely sexy and touching.
Ratings for "Porch"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 10
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10
"Shopping" by Sam ([email protected]).
I suspect Sam doesn't give a damn whether I like his story or not. But I read this entry expecting to find a story, and so I think I'll go ahead and write a review to help someone else avoid the same mistake.
What we have here is an idea for a story. Two people like to have sex where they might get caught. And so they do. Have sex that is - not get caught. Twice.
My suggestion to Sam is to develop a story with a focus. Sam himself probably sees this story in a richer context than the one he wrote it in. He should share that context with us. As it is, this story is analogous to telling some funny things that happened instead of telling a joke. The difference is that the joke has a build-up and a climax - it's a story instead of a list of events.
Ratings for "Shopping"
Athena (technical quality): 7
Venus (plot & character): 4
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 4
"The Cruelest Month" by Hawkeye.
This is a follow-up to "April Showers," to which BillyG gave high ratings back in CR 272. I'll repost that review. Both stories are a part of Hawkeye's "Seasons," and somebody named doogiewoodburner has reposted all seven stories in this series. Good Doggie!
In this episode, Sam is trying to have a long-term relationship with Lisa, but he boinks Julie again in the shower one fine Sunday morning. The title refers to the fact that "breaking up is hard to do." Or, as T.S. Eliot more aptly put it in The Waste Land:
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Of course, the previous story in this series {April Showers} was a play on the words by the more popular but less known poet who wrote:
April showers
Bring May flowers.
I've come to two realizations. First, the reason college tuition is so high is that college guys spend so much time in the showers with the hot water running while they masturbate or occasionally play sex games with their lady friends. Second, although this story is not all that good as a stand-alone, the overall "Seasons" series is an excellent story of a young man's sexual odyssey.
So if you read this story at all, read it in the right order with the rest in the series. And thanks again, doogiewoodburner.
Ratings for "The Cruelest Month"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 8
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 8
"Remember the Alamo" by Rob4Play ([email protected]). Guest review by Dave Myers.
When a writer knows how to express his own enthusiasm, it makes up for a lot.
Synopsis: A traveling salesman makes a date with his regular thang on his way through Texas. She's hot to trot, as usual.
When writing for the "encounter" type of story, the most important thing is the early hook to make the reader know, understand, and like the characters. Oh, yeah, and to make them want to wait around until they get fucked. Here, the author almost gets the right dosage of pre-sex story-building, but still undershoots by a tad. Still, he's playful and game about the whole thing, and as I said before, that makes up for a lot. I mean, how many stories feature a cockprint made on paper and inked in lipstick?
But there are some improvements that can be made in the general style of the writing. The writer needs to decide earlier on how far he wants us to "believe" the story. The level of detail is very inconsistent. I'm left unsure whether to believe this is a fantasy world filled with people from this world or a "real" world filled with fantasy people. Now, perhaps that is the point of the story anyway, but in an encounter so brief, there is no time to get sucked in, to get into the characters' rhythms. So, the story needs to make up its mind sooner about how convincing it needs to be.
Rating: 7
"The Shower" by Tiramisu (no address). Guest Review by R'khaan ([email protected])
So, we have Sara and Jim, middle-aged parents who find themselves without children one night. Sara's a little cranky because Jim's been off his feed of late, being rather stingy with the one-eyed wonder worm. While pondering her daughter's relationship with a new boyfriend, Sara undresses and heads for the bathroom to speak to Jim.
To her surprise, Jim's in the shower doing the knuckle shuffle; and Sara is suddenly very angry that he can find time to do himself but not her. As she watches her husband stroke himself into a pending orgasm, Sara finds she's becoming very excited at the scene before her. Girlfriend's hypnotized as Jim continues to massage himself and, despite herself, calls out to her husband. At least Jim tries to play things off, not that Sara buys it.
Sara manages to surprise herself by suggesting that Jim can finish what he was doing - but he can't come until she says so. Jim agrees and allows Sara to blindfold him, as his wife's presence seemed to unnerve him.
Now blindfolded, Jim proceeds to do as Sara bids, and Sara's really getting her cookies off on being able to control her hubby, as well as the sight of Jim really going for what he knows. Sara gets off and allows Jim to get off and that's the show.
This story was cute, if not very original.
Celestial Ratings for "The Shower"
R'khaan (technical quality): 4
R'khaan (plot & character): 4
R'khaan (appeal to reviewer): 4
"A Matter of Need" by Watcher ([email protected]). Review by Sven the Elder, who may be contacted at [email protected]
This story is a simple one - it deals with the trauma of a devoted married couple, one of whom dies, and the subsequent trials and tribulations the surviving partner goes through as his friends attempt his rehabilitation.
Now consider that the above synopsis is like saying that either St Paul's Cathedral in London and the Capitol in Washington are just buildings. This story is a tear-jerker - I don't mind admitting that at the end I cried - sentimental old fool that I am! Using colors to describe the changing mood and turmoil in the mind of the main character is a masterpiece of writing. It portrays what is almost an exorcism superbly. There are others who can probably vouch for the accuracy of the mood swings and feelings, better than I. Without actually having undergone the sort of agony portrayed, I can only imagine the situation - Watcher, for me has captured those feelings with total clarity of description.
I have been deliberately a little cagey in the depictions and synopsis; saying too much would detract from the story itself, that I most certainly do not wish to do.
Finally, I feel that I just read *my* story of '98. It will be a remarkable one that comes along to displace this from *my* number one. It *should* be in the top ten for the year at the very least. If you read no other stories from this set of reviews, this has to be the one.
As to the ratings - this is the first story I have read that I genuinely feel is outside the rating structure, it is that good. However, to comply:
Ratings for "A Matter of Need"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 10
Sven (appeal to reviewer): 10
"Journey into Sexual Awareness" by Desdemona22 ([email protected]). Guest review by Mary Jorsay Gandmar. ([email protected]).
This one has it all: passive voice, hackneyed clichés, hashed metaphors, labored humor, no plot, no characterization, clumsy language and, worst of all, not a vestige of eroticism - everything, in fact, except style and substance. The by-line is just plain silly: "written by an adult for an adult in an adult fashion". Indeed.
The writing is plain bad: so much so that I found myself cringing, every line an assault. "We had experimented a little and when I say experimented I mean in an old-fashioned petri dish sort of way, let's put this on top of this and see what develops after awhile." Awhile? The OED says "awhile" means "for a short time", quite different from "a while", meaning after a little while. And how can sex be like a petri dish? A petri dish is round, shallow, has a vertical edge or lip and one cultivates bacteria or agar or some such thing in it, right? And this petri dish sex, we are told, is a 'hypothesis'. Duh. Also, it apparently lacks variety. Therefore the author "had out done the missionaries." Have mercy.
Then there's the carelessness with grammar, spelling, syntax, construction: "Then along came my prime." Who dat? And she loves "the gates of hell" - they open up twice in four pages.
Anyway, for what little it matters, here's what we're being told. Domesticated housewife suddenly finds herself turning into a bubbling cauldron of lust. Hormones seething in her bosom and elsewhere, she heads off to the local library and picks up a copy of the Kama Sutra. Back home, in bed with her husband (such excitement!) she presents him the book (here's the first set of the gates of hell yawning open). Lo and behold they discover that there is such a thing as anal sex, position 22.
At this point, the writing slips from its already precarious perch."Finally, I grabbed the book and turned to position 22. I had always known that A would fit into B, but this was showing how A could also go into C. My 'C' kind of liked the idea and began to moisten in its avid approval. I showed him the picture and waited. Long minutes passed, and I had already begun to listen to the burning synapses between the vagina and brain and was casually fingering."
A going into C, not B? Avid approval? Burning synapses? My 'C' kind of liked the idea? Surely this is the bottom of the barrel.
More of the same. Madam's anus, asshole, whatever, is daintily referred to throughout as her hole C. The other proximate orifice, a.k.a. vagina, cunt, slit, pussy, etc., is hole B. Go figure. Madam is hot, we gather, because her 'pre-orgasmic body had already taken control of the intellectual side and told it to take a much needed nap'. When Monsieur hesitates at buggering his missus, she threatens to "do the Bobbit and proceed without him". How this miracle is to be achieved we are not told. Perhaps just as well. Now Monsieur needs "lubrication" which he obtains by "finding hole B first". This "nearly sends" the missus "from stoic control to blathering idiot". The former is inexplicable in the circumstances, and by now the reader is strongly tempted to regard the latter as the lady's natural state.
Then they "proceed" with the "main attraction" (he having so "decreed") and this results in what must surely rank as the erotic howler of all time: "Take that, libido!" a tiny voice in the recesses of her mind cries. I didn't know one had to take revenge on one's sex drive. Meanwhile, her nerve endings do something called a happy dance. Is that like the birdie dance, clap your hands, flap your wings?
Punch line. Madam wants to progress to position 69-101 and eventually earn "frequent user miles in that aisle at the bookstore." Um, I thought it was the library a few paragraphs earlier. No matter. A mere peccadillo, it pales in contrast. As for the user miles bit, the less said the better.
Bereft of a single redeeming feature, this 'story' doesn't deserve a rating."I was advised to remove the shirt by an officer who is very unlikely to be reading this review: 'What if the newspapers take a picture of you?' I was tempted to literally remove the shirt right then and there, but saner heads prevailed.
In her secret life, Cathy Donohue is Anne O'Donnell, writer of erotic short stories. Of course, the people of her community think of her as merely a happy homemaker and helpful member of the community, not as a porn writer. {This story is starting to strike too close to home.} Unfortunately, the college kid who comes to fix her computer makes the connection between Cathy and the Internet. Fortunately, he's a hunk.
Being a gentleman, Glen promises not to reveal Cathy's secret identity. Being a lady, Cathy asks if there is anything she can do to repay him for fixing her computer. Being a horny virgin, Glen asks her to write a story for him. Being a horny non-virgin, she offers to go one better than that. Being a sexually active person, I'm getting pretty horny myself at this point. Being an English teacher, I'm pretty impressed with the parallel use of participial phrases in this paragraph. That's it! If I concentrate on the grammar I can make it through this story without having to do anything about my more mundane urges.
OK. They're fucking now. Damn this is good stuff! I've got to do something to help me finish this story. The grammar. Concentrate on the grammar. Oh good, she said "alluding" when she meant "alluding" - I'm going to make it - or should that be "alluding"? Damn! I'm not going to make it after all. Maybe if I rub my pussy just a little while I finish this review... I'll even keep my pants on.... This won't be hard.... Won't be HARD! I've got to watch what I say, but it's difficult - to type with just one hand... Oh good, she said "...excuse as to why she stayed home." She's talking like Yogi Berra now. Oh, great! Sabrina knows Cathy's secret identity, and she even made hard copies of her stories and took them on the cruise with her and therefore she made love to her husband with renewed vigor each night and sometimes during the day. Oh shit! Now they're discussing their sexual relationships with other women.... If they make love to each other, I'm going to cum in my pants.... Except that I'm not wearing any pants.... Would you believe my husband's at a meeting at church? I'm a grown woman; I can take care of myself.... Good! She said "lay" instead of "lie" but that doesn't help - too much sexual innuendo in the "L" words. Now they're making love. I mean REALLY MAKING LOVE. OOOOH SHIIIIIT!!!!
This was an exceptionally good story. I strongly recommend it.
Ratings for "Crossing The Line"
Athena (technical quality): 9.5
Venus (plot & character): 10
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10
* "The Rocks" by Mark Aster ([email protected])
http://search.dejanews.com/getdoc.xp?AN=242335937
This story is preceded by this unusual disclaimer: "This story does not contain explicit sex of any kind. If non-sexual stories offend you, please stop reading at once." What kind of pervert, you might ask, would post a story like this?
Actually, taken in the context of the entire Allen Sisters saga, this story is about sex in a very indirect way. My husband is by no means a pedophile, but he once told me it turned him on to see my parents' home movies of me as a child. He liked my innocence, he said, apparently in comparison to the sophisticated sexual dynamo I have become. Likewise, since readers of the whole series know that Pat and Julie are incredibly sensuous adults, it is sensuous if not actually sexy to see this snapshot of them at an early age, discovering the differences between boys and girls.
The main difference, as the story reveals, is that boys throw rocks a lot more often than girls.
Ratings for "The Rocks"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 10
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10 | 3 |
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