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86,899 | Grazz | Your First Night at College | You've finally arrived at college. It feels weird, for the first time in your life you're on your own. Really on your own - the rest of the dorm doesn't move in for another two days. You spend a long time lugging all your stuff up to your room and setting it up.
Finishing some time later, you head out to find some dinner. Again, it strikes you that you're finally on your own. You eat your fill and head back to your dorm room. It's a dark night, the moon and stars hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, but pleasantly warm. The path is well lit, and you enjoy the walk back, thinking of your new life.
You get up to your room and spend some time online, chatting to people about your new room and the campus. Around midnight, you're feeling pretty tired from the move and log off. Getting up slowly, you turn off the lights and settle into your new bed. 'So this is what it feels like to live on my own. Hell, it's not that bad.' Grinning to yourself, you let sleep creep over you and soon you're dreaming.
Something startles you awake... blinking back the sleep, you squint for a second, but it's too dark to see anything. Waiting for another minute, you start to go back to sleep and begin to close your eyes when - there it is again!
Suddenly a dark shadow appears over your bed, and you feel strong hands grab your wrists. "Don't say a fucking word," a voice floats out of the darkness. Struggling violently, you try to kick out at the shadow. One of the hands comes down and grabs your shirt, yanking hard to rip it off - everything is moving so fast. A leg connects with his side, and grunting, he falls onto you. Pushing him off, you roll out of bed and try to run, but his strong hands roughly pull you back. He throws you down face first and yanks down your panties.
Kicking helplessly, you feel one strong hand press down the small of your back while the other squeezes your ass. Your assailant pulls off his shirt and shifts over to pull down his pants. One of your hands shoots out, raking across his chest. He's surprised enough to let go for a second, and you sit up fast. Recovering fast, he knocks you back down with a slap to the face, then grabs a handful of hair and yanks you up the bed. His other hand is between your legs, roughly forcing two fingers into your wet pussy. Pulling your head up, he locks mouths with you, tongues intertwining. You bite and taste blood as he pulls back grinning, one lip bleeding.
He grabs handcuffs from a pocket in the time it takes you to sink your nails into his chest. Temporarily removing the fingers from your pussy, he grabs your hands and, hooking them over a bed post, he struggles to lock you down while you try to squirm a knee into position. Clicking the cuffs into position, he shifts just enough for you to catch a glancing blow on his balls. Falling back a bit, he looks down at you, a sadistic gleam in his eyes "You'll pay for that, bitch".
Rising up, he reaches over and grabs something you can't quite make out, and brings it over you. He raises it, and just for a second, it's silhouetted - a crop! It whistles down, and a line of red-hot pain appears on the underside of your right tit. You shriek as your tit and pussy throb from the pain. His other hand goes back to its assault on your pussy, and the crop whips down again, your left tit immersed in the sudden pain. As he brings down the crop again and again, you're sobbing, moaning, overwhelmed from the heat radiating from your tits and pussy. Even as he flogs your tits, you can feel yourself building up to an orgasm. He catches you right across both nipples, and your pussy starts convulsing around the four fingers now buried inside you.
Lifting up your now limp body, he turns you over and tucks your knees under you. Feeling him disappear for a second, you shudder and relax, slumping down, still feeling little convulsions in your cunt. Then he's back, with a smack to your ass. You let out a halfhearted moan, and he chuckles, a dark chuckle.
You feel your ass cheeks being spread, and something cold and slimy drips onto your asshole. You moan again as you feel something rubbery rub it, then worm its way in. You gasp as it slides farther and farther in, stretching your asshole. Then it's buried all the way, and you feel incredibly full; that's when it starts vibrating. Gasping again, you jerk back, and feel the vibrations worm their way through the wall into your pussy. Suddenly you feel something pushing its way into your pussy as well, but this feels more... it's a cock! Remembering suddenly that you're being raped, you begin to thrash around, but that only increases the sensation of the cock in your pussy, separated by a thin wall from the vibrator in your ass.
Grabbing both your bruised tits, pinching the sore, hard nipples between his strong fingers, he starts to pound into you, speeding up quickly. You begin to cry out at all the sensations, tits a mix of pleasure/pain, ass and pussy fuller than they've ever been before! Vibrations forming a counterpoint to the cock's in and out thrusting, you begin buckling back against it, riding it for all you're worth. The tempo increases even further, and your moans turn into screams as you feel another orgasm building. The sensations are too intense; you don't know whether you are screaming from pleasure or simple overload! Then the orgasm hits, and you buckle wildly, cunt spasming, stars swimming in front of your eyes. You feel his dick continue its thrusting, driving you insane. Then it's jerking around inside of you! His cum deep in your pussy, you both slump down, you still twitching from the vibrator in your ass.
He slowly pulls out, and gives your clit a flick. You jump and moan at the sharp pain but slump back down from exhaustion. You feel the vibrator being pulled out of your ass, and his weight disappears from the bed for a second. Suddenly your ass lights up with fire and pain! He's whipping it, that bastard! You jerk around, desperately trying to get away from the onslaught, but it's no use. He just keeps whipping your ass, which is now covered in welts and bleeding in one or two spots. You feel tears come, as you realize there's no way out, he could fuck you, whip you, cut you however he fucking wants, and you'd be helpless. The whipping stops, and he moves up to the head of the bed where he grabs a handful of your hair and forces your mouth down on his cock. Smacking your ass (oh my fucking god, the fucking PAIN!) "Suck it".
You work your mouth on it, and for a minute, he seems satisfied. Then you feel something whip across your shoulder, and your world starts to become pain/pleasure again. He keeps whipping your back and shoulders as you blow him, until you feel trickles of blood run down your back. One hand grabs the back of your head and holds it down as he explodes down your throat.
You're roughly rolled over and slapped on your abused tits, eliciting another scream from you. Suddenly he's holding up something that's glinting in the feeble light, "I told you I'd make you pay, bitch". You feel a blade start to softly run up and down your skin, poking a little at your welts and cuts. You whimper, genuinely afraid now, and desperate to avoid more pain. Your cunt is also incredibly wet at the rough treatment you've been receiving. Suddenly he jerks the knife back and forth, making two long, shallow cuts on the side of your tits. You only manage a sob as the blood starts running down between them. Taking out something else, long and thin, you feel its sharp tip against your nipple. It's a needle - FUCK! He's pushed the needle through your nipple, the fucker. You buckle again at the pain and start softly crying again. Leaving that needle through your nipple, he moves around to the end of the bed, crawls on, and slides his hard cock back into your cunt. He's going to rape you again! Before he picks up tempo though, you feel another needle press into your other nipple, then FUCKING fucker! Holy shit, the needle is through! Distantly you realize he's really fucking you now, and even as you lay there defeated, your hips weakly try to meet his thrusts.You're lying there, your ass, tits, and back whipped, blood running down your breasts, getting raped again with two fucking needles in your nipples, and your body is fucking getting off on it. He finishes in a few minutes, but not before you get an orgasm from being raped and beaten.
He ties your feet to your hands behind you and lifts you up, carrying you out of the residence. The last thing you remember before passing out is the trunk of his car, and the start of his engine. | null | null | Authors/Grazz/Your First Night - Alternate Ending.txt |
86,900 | Grazz | Bound | You test the straps around your wrists and ankles, feeling the soft air currents of the room playing lightly over your spread, naked body. You lie there, sinking into the soft mattress beneath you; your senses heightened while your eyes are blinded by the silky blindfold.
Shivering to yourself, you wait for his touch. You hear something rustle on the carpet near the door, and you shiver again in anticipation. You feel a slow, warm breath on the side of your face, and you can almost feel... yes, it's there! Fingertips run down your left side, so lightly as to almost not be there at all. You feel a second set running down your stomach, and you try to rise to meet them, but the phantom fingers are gone as if they were never there. Now the breath is moving down your neck, and when it reaches your shoulder blade it changes, blowing lightly, raising goosebumps in its wake.
As it reaches your right nipple, you feel the nipple growing harder, straining against itself. Fingers appear, right above your hips, all ten trailing up, and pinkies just hanging off your side. Now back down again, this time with the nails, and the breath is blowing down the bottom of your breast, and now around, up the center. The fingers don't stop at your hip, but follow the bone into the center. As they meet, they move down and out, reaching the point where hip meets thigh, and following the lines down. As the nails reach your inner thighs, they spread out, running farther down. As the fingers were tracing the contours of your body, the stream of air loosely followed. It runs down, down your stomach to play over your belly button, and down to your hip where it moves outwards.
Fingers coming back up your body, your inner thighs, as the breath moves up and out along your side. Now it's hot and slow again, steamy, leaving your skin to shiver in its wake as the moisture evaporates. The breath traverses up, along your side, over the sides of your breasts, and now onto your neck. There it pauses, allowing the hands to catch up from your upper thighs where they'd been tracing patterns over your quivering flesh. Your breath is coming a little faster now as you strain to feel every touch, every caress, however soft.
The hands move up to the undersides of your breasts where they are again drawing patterns. You feel a pair of lips brush against yours, and again the breath is at your neck. So lightly you barely feel it, the tip of a tongue flicks your neck and you moan as you melt into the hot moisture on your neck. Again the tongue strokes the hollows of your straining neck, a quick flick, and the breath moves closer. A soft kiss, and another, tongue flicking out again and again as you issue another soft moan. You can feel yourself melting into the lips on your neck, the hands now applying some real pressure, lightly dimpling the skin as they massage it.
The kisses continue down your neck, and onto your shoulders; the fingertips run farther down, rubbing circles and lines into your sides as they go. The kisses are traveling out onto the outskirts of your shoulder blades and in, below them. You can feel the mouth move its way down your breasts, and pause just above your nipples. The fingers from before are now lightly tickling where your inner thighs meet hip, teasing the tender line of skin. The tongue is out now, tracing circles about your nipples, as the fingers continue to trace along the skin down there, up and down, fingers occasionally detouring to run out in little semi-circles halfway up to your lips. You can feel the heat and moisture emanating from it. The tongue stops its tracing and you can almost feel the lips hovering around your nipple, pausing, and then... the tip of the tongue flicks your nipple, the fingers move in ever widening arcs, and lips close around it. They tug gently but insistently on it, pulling it up and letting it slip out repeatedly. After a few seconds, you feel the teeth gently join in, biting down on it, rolling it a little, and tugging on it. You moan and strain up again against your bonds.
You feel one set of fingers stroking now, around the outside of your pussy, just missing the inner lips by a hair's breadth. The tips of two fingers trace the edges of the wetness, leaving you shuddering, straining up, and trying to get more pressure. Your breasts are flushing further, reacting to the insistent tugs on your nipples as the fingers continue their up and down movement. One of the fingers moves to the center, and runs up, both of your pussy lips feel it between them, and then - oh god! Your clit screams in pleasure as the finger runs up it, and then back down, between the lips and to the bottom. Up again and in this time, the finger plunges smoothly in, coming out trailing along the upper wall, and out again to the clit. The mouth on your nipples is more insistent now, biting and sucking them in, as the finger massages your clit, circling the outside of it, running over it. The sensations are intense and driving you crazy, buckling and moaning with every stroke, biting your lip, trying to press your pussy against the hand harder!
The mouth is suddenly gone and you gasp for a moment at the cold before the sensations around your clit make you buckle again. The mouth is back, nibbling and kissing its way quickly down your belly and over your hips. Before you know it, a tongue joins the fingers around your clit. The fingers move down as the tongue works on your clit, fingers running up and down a few times while you strain trying to get them in you! And then they're in! Two fingers push in deep and then out again, and begin pumping lightly as you moan for more. You just wish they'd go faster; the sensations are combining with your clit to drive you crazy. You're getting lightheaded and the sensations are getting to be too much as the tongue keeps flicking, strongly aware of every inch of the strong fingers in your cunt. You scream as you strain against the bonds, and the fingers change their angle, adding a third and pressing from below now so as to press against the upper wall of your pussy and G-spot on every stroke.
Your clit is straining as the mouth sucks on it hard, and teeth lightly nip at it. The fingers are filling you up now and you can feel yourself screaming from a distance, as your pussy begins to spasm in orgasm. Your cunt is rhythmically milking the hand, grinding into the face and mouth as you continue to spasm. Slowly you come down from it, buckling less and just shuddering... The fingers slowly withdraw, inciting another jolt of pleasure which you can only weakly shudder to, and the face moves out... Laying there for a second just panting, you hear the feet moving around. A second later, you feel a few strings of material running across your body. They feel about half a centimeter wide, like... leather....
End Part 1 | null | Part 1 | Authors/Grazz/Bound.txt |
87,029 | Terri Madison | Parking Lot | You're walking to your car after a long week's work. Everyone else has already gone home, and the parking lot is vacant. You're just about to open your car when a pair of hands grabs you roughly from behind, pushing you up against the car. You cry out, but nobody can hear you before a hand is clamped over your mouth as the other hand rips your top open, exposing your naked breasts as you didn't bother to wear a bra today. Your nipples get hard as your breasts are mashed against the cold glass of your car window. You can also feel your assailant's hard cock rubbing against your ass through his pants.
With a swift motion, the rest of your clothes are torn off of you, and you're totally naked save for your high heels. Your assailant presses his forearm against your back, keeping you pinned against the car as he unbuckles his pants. You now feel his cock pressing against your buttocks. As he relaxes his grip on you, you consider struggling and making a break for it. Then you remember that you're completely naked, except for a pair of 4" heels, and that you certainly wouldn't get far.
As if reading your thoughts, your assailant speaks for the first time. "That's right, Terri..." Your eyes widen in surprise and fright...he knows your name! "There's nowhere to go, so why don't you just relax and be nice to me..." His hands reach around you and begin kneading your breasts roughly. You turn your head, but are warned not to look at your attacker. One hand wanders down and begins probing your pussy. Despite yourself, you respond, involuntarily getting wet and aroused by your experience as conflicting feelings of fear, lust, cold and excitement race through your heart.
Without warning, the hands grasp your hips, and his cock slips into your dripping pussy. You've been fantasizing all day about being fucked, and now it's happening--though not in the way you'd planned, standing next to your car, cold and naked. Still you can't help yourself, as you involuntarily thrust your buttocks back against your assailant who responds by pounding you even harder. You whimper softly as he slams into you forcefully.
"This is what happens to sluts like you," he tells you as he brings the palm of his hand down on your wonderfully shaped buttock.
"Yes..." you moan weakly, unable to control your reactions to the fucking you're getting. You can feel the familiar feeling deep inside, as you're inexorably brought closer and closer to the edge by the cock which is invading your tight pussy so well. His balls slap against your aroused clitoris as he fucks you harder and faster. Now you're screaming... and still nobody can hear you as you enjoy the first of multiple orgasms...
He pulls out and presses his cockhead against the tight rosebud of your anus. You moan as he slips his cock, lubricated with your juices, into your tight anus. Pounding your anal opening just the way he used your slutty pussy.... taking what he wants from you. And you have no intention of trying to stop him... he is fucking your anus so well, you reach down and shove two fingers inside your pussy, picking up where his cock left off and soon you're howling again.
With a grunt, he lodges his penis deep in your anus. "Take this, slut...." he growls as he empties spurt after spurt of his semen in your anus. And you take it, wiggling your buttocks against him as you furiously work your vagina with four fingers now.
He pulls out of your anus, giving it a good swat with the palm of his hand. Then he gathers up your torn clothes and your car keys and walks away, leaving you locked out of your car, alone, naked, your hair disheveled, with your juices dripping out of your vagina and his semen oozing out of your anus.
As you sink helplessly to a sitting position leaning against your car, your hand wanders to your pussy again.... | null | null | Authors/terrimadison/parkinglot.txt |
87,047 | Terri Madison | Monograms | You test your bonds again, but your hands and feet are tied very securely to the four-poster bed. Spread-eagled and naked, you eye Laurie and me as we come back into the room. I've changed into my black teddy, and Laurie into her white lace bra and panty set, which contrasts her flaming red hair so nicely.
The dildo gag in your mouth precludes you from begging us for relief from the tiny vibrators which we thoughtfully shoved into your cunt and ass before leaving you to fuck each other on the bathroom countertop.
Wordlessly, Laurie pulls the toys out as I unfasten the dildo gag, just in time for Laurie to present each of the toys to your mouth for cleaning. A painful twisting of your nipple persuades you to open your mouth and clean the toys off like a good girl.
Your eyes widen in fear as you see the item I've brought into the room with me--a cat-o'-nine-tails whip. Again, you realize how vulnerable you are as you struggle against the ropes.
Laurie takes up a position at the foot of the bed, as I stand off to the side with the whip. We glance at each other, I nod, and she crouches down, her red hair caressing your thighs as her pixie face is just inches from your freshly shaved pussy. Your attention is on me as I raise the whip.
WWWWWWWWWWHACK!!!!!!! I land a sharp blow across your breasts. Simultaneously, Laurie gives your clit a single lick.
WWWWWWWWHACK!!!! Again, the tendrils of the whip lash painfully upon your boobs, as Laurie's tongue swipes across your aroused clit. Your eyes are already filling up with tears....
WHACK!! WHACK!!! WWWWHACK!!!!! Three blows in succession, accompanied by three perfectly choreographed licks courtesy of Laurie's very talented tongue. You're responding--trying to push your hips toward Laurie's mouth for more oral attention, while trying somehow to twist your tender boobs away from the assault I'm giving them. You fail on both counts--we have tied you very well!
Surveying the entire situation, I realize that I'm not only tormenting you--Laurie is also going insane with desire. I know from experience how much she loves eating pussy and can tell that she's aching to get down to serious business! Well, I won't keep either of you waiting!
With a nod to the pretty redhead, I get down to serious business with the cat-o'-nine-tails. She follows suit with some serious clit licking. With full force, I rain blows with the whip onto your lovely breasts. How gorgeous they are, and bigger than mine! Okay, maybe I'm being driven by envy--hmm, isn't jealousy a sin? They're bigger than mine, and are now a lot redder than mine! Your body is shaking, tears streaming down your face as you fight the conflicting sensations--the intense pain from the whip on your very sensitive breasts and nipples, and the intense oral pleasure Laurie is giving you.
I stop whipping you; Laurie removes her tongue from your clit at the same time, eliciting a loud whimper from you. "Please," you gasp, and I think nobody in the room, yourself included, is quite sure whether it's a plea for us to stop, or for us to keep going....
But I've just stopped to switch hands. My right hand is tired from whipping your boobies so hard! Now, back to it--planting several fresh, powerful swats upon your tits as Laurie resumes her tonguing of your clit....
We escort a stranger into the room, a rather scruffy-looking man in his thirties. You shut your eyes as he gropes at your tits and roughly shoves two of his calloused fingers into your cunt. He's not here to rape you, though--although we may force you to give him a blowjob as payment for the service he is about to perform. You watch as he opens up a case and takes several objects out of it, and eventually you recognize the implements of a tattooing kit. Once everything is set up, he climbs onto the bed and goes to work on your large breasts.
You hear a sound in the doorway, and looking up, you see your husband being led into the bedroom by Laurie and me. He's drunk and half-naked, and every inch of his skin seems to be covered with lip-prints from my pink lipstick and Laurie's darker burgundy shade. Eyeing us in our skimpy lingerie, you know right away that he doesn't stand a chance. Dropping to our knees, we get him completely undressed, then Laurie descends on his throbbing cock as I take his balls into my slutty mouth, one at a time. He groans softly at the dual cocksucking he's receiving, and you renew your struggles.
"Hold still, bitch," the tattoo artist chastises you, putting the needle down long enough to cuff you across the cheek. Then he goes back to work.
Laurie is sucking your husband off like a madwoman by now, as I massage his balls and talk dirty to him. "Mmmmm, honey, you like having that redhead's lips wrapped around your hard cock? I love watching her suck you off...she does that almost as well as she eats my pussy...would you like to splatter her tits with your cum, so I can lick it off?" Poor guy--it's more than he can take, and Laurie pulls his cock out of her mouth with a loud slurping sound, just in time to catch a shot of his sticky jism squarely across the cheek. Taking him in hand, I aim his spurting shaft directly into her freckle-laden cleavage, dousing her 34-DD tits with his hot cream! When he's done shooting his load, I pop him into my mouth just to make sure we've got every drop--then I bury my face in Laurie's cleavage, lapping up some of his cum and spreading the rest messily all over my face.
Walking over to you, I open my mouth to show you the treat I've saved for you. I lean down to share it with you in a kiss...
The tattoo artist is now done. Together we admire his work--on each breast is a little pink heart, one which says "Laurie" and the other reading "Terri".
I lower my mouth to take care of "Laurie" (your left tit) while my friend goes to work on "Terri". As we suck on your nipples, we share a smile, knowing exactly what your husband will be thinking about from now on, every time he plunges his cock between your lovely painted boobs.... | null | null | Authors/terrimadison/monograms.txt |
87,079 | Terri Madison | The Bet | You're really going to be sorry you made this bet. I've made the same wager with dozens of guys, and I always win. It always ends the same way - me walking away with cum oozing out of the corners of my mouth, and an extra $50 in my purse. But if you think you can hold out, be my guest!
Let's get you more comfortable. Here, off with the shorts! Oh, you're already getting hard. This is going to be too easy! Now my turn to get more comfortable, and get rid of this shirt. Do you like my black lace bra, honey? I just love the way it pushes my 36-D tits together, don't you? But let me get on my knees and give you a better look. I'll take this opportunity to get a better look at your equipment as well.
Hey, relax! I'm just looking. Since you're not going to let me pop it in my hot, wet mouth and slurp on it, I can at least admire, can't I? Don't worry, I won't even lick the swollen purple head. Though I'm certainly close enough to it now! But I'm not going to do anything unless you agree to it.
Well, what's... Hey! No. Uh-uh. You're not allowed to touch it. That's cheating! Not fair. My cunt is soaking wet, but you don't see me finger-fucking myself, do you? I'm sorry, but if you want release, you'll just have to concede defeat and pay up the $50, and I'll have this gorgeous cock spurting your cum in my mouth before you know what hit you. You seem tempted. Let me help you out with this - just put your hand on the back of my head. There. Now, if you should decide that you want it, you just pull me down on you, and I'll slide that nice juicy prick between these ruby-glossed lips and give you the suck of your life until you're ready to shoot your jism for me. We can do that any way you like. You can squirt it all in my mouth, or you can pump it all over my face. Or maybe I'll stick my tongue out and catch whatever I can in my mouth, and let the rest get all over my face, hair, and neck. Or we can take this bra off and you can give my tits a nice sperm shower... after fucking them. MMMMMM, the possibilities are endless!
Oh, baby, look how hard it is! I know you're dying to fuck my mouth. Go ahead, don't torment yourself any more. So you lose 50 bucks - you could just stuff it into my bra while I lick up and down your shaft and suck on your balls, as if I'm some cock-sucking little whore you just bought. Hmmm, that probably wouldn't be that far from the truth, would it?
You're being a real trooper here. But we both know it's just a matter of time before you grab a handful of my blonde hair and force me down on your throbbing prick. No? Well, looks like I'm going to have to beg for it. PLEASE, honey, this cock-slut wants to wrap these lips around the tip of your cock, then taking it in all the way up to your balls, feeling the tip all the way in the back of my throat. Please, I need it so bad, need to feel your cum shooting into my mouth. Please let me stroke your balls while I deep-throat you, honey. All you have to... MMMMMMMMMMMFF (gasp) (slurp) MMMMMMMM, there. Isn't that (lick) much better? Well... (slurp) you better pay up. Just... MMMM... stick the money between my tits. MMMMMM, yeah (slurp). Can't wait for you to stick this cock there too.... Oh... MMMMMMMM.... you're ready to shoot, aren't you? In my mouth? Ok... MMMMMM (slllurp) YUMMMMMMMMMMM..... MMMMMMMM.... there.... mmmmmm delicious.
Well, thanks for being a good sport. Would you like to try for double or nothing? Hmmmmm, OK. Let's switch places here - you kneel in front of me. Let me just hike my skirt up. Now. I'll bet you $50 that you can't resist the urge to eat my pussy. Do we have a bet? Hmmmm. Great. Well, I'm SURE you'll have no problem resisting the temptation to bury your tongue in my sopping wet, bald cunt. But, just in case you should change your mind, here. Why don't you move your head right between my thighs. Yeah. Just dive in any time, honey. In the meantime, I'll just keep myself occupied by fucking myself with my fingers. Mmmmmm, look how wet I am! Here, have a taste... yeah, suck my juices off my fingers. You know, there's more where that came from.... | null | null | Authors/terrimadison/thebet.txt |
87,084 | Terri Madison | Cheating | You walk into your bedroom and are astonished to find me and your husband in bed together. I'm lying flat on my back, with my legs in the air and my platforms - which are all I'm wearing besides my lusty, wanton smile - thrown over his shoulders as he kneels there and pounds me. You gasp in shock at the sight, and both of us turn to look at you.
He immediately assumes a very guilty expression, but keeps going. I've been teasing him mercilessly for the last two hours, making use of my hands, mouth, breasts, and cunt to bring him to the edge, then stopping to tightly clamp my fingers around the base of his cock to prevent him from cumming. He's too focused on shooting his jism in my pussy right now, and I'm sure I'm not helping things by pulling his head back in my direction, urging him to watch how nicely my 36-D's bounce as he fucks me!
With a groan, he suddenly pulls out and begins spurting all over my belly. Usually he likes to cum in my mouth, on my neck and breasts, or deep inside my insatiable cunt... but obviously he's attempting to lessen the amount of trouble he currently finds himself in. As I look over at you with my self-satisfied sneer, I can see that it won't. Nor do I care, as he's nothing more than a piece of fuckmeat to me to use as I please.
As he leaves the room under your baleful glare, I unabashedly rub his sticky jism over the surface of my smooth, flat tummy, dipping my finger into my navel where a little pool of cum has formed, and sucking the jism into my mouth.
As he makes his exit, your attention turns to me, and I only snicker at you, totally forgetting that you are taller and stronger than I am and also that I'm quite physically exhausted after the past two hours of adulterous fucking and sucking. Stopping to close the door, you take a step toward the bed... | null | null | Authors/terrimadison/cheating.txt |
87,124 | Unseelie | Hallelujah | You tied me to a kitchen chair, bound, gagged, and blindfolded - helpless and silenced.
I strained at the ropes that criss-crossed my body, starting at my throat and ending at my wrists, held tight to my ass and the back of the wooden chair. Hands wrapped my ankles and pulled each aside to tie it to one leg of the chair, then the next.
Through my muted eyes, I could see the faint glow of moonlight bathing us both and feel the drift of cool air from the open window across my skin.
My dark lingerie was my only protection from the eyes I could feel sweep over me, longing, thirsting.
A whisper of fingers trailed across my knees, a caress of breath. Goosebumps raised, my senses shivered.
I remembered a time before I knew you when I walked through the world and felt less, knew less, lived less - now that you had blinded me, I could see more than ever.
Your hands slid up my thighs, and fingers slid beneath my panties and pulled them aside - my mind became focused, spotlighting the apex where you touched me.
Fingers slid in and over, caressing, stroking, soothing. The waves began rushing through me, lapping at my shore, swelling and crashing over me.
Your hands withdrew, and I was lost, aching.
Long moments passed, and I could not see, hear, or feel... I leaned, strained, but was held fast...and the dew you had brought cooled.
Motion...you rose between my legs, and where I was cold became filled with your warmth.
I felt you move in me, and from my lips, you drew a broken breath...with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah. | null | null | Authors/Unseelie/Hallelujah.txt |
87,139 | Pylades | Froggy | You don't remember if you even had a choice. You do remember hitting Main Street on the first weekend of Bike Week, out with the girls from work. You do remember drinking a shitload of Margaritas and arguing with Kerri Ann about the number of bikers in Daytona this year. You don't recall when she imposed herself in your group or when she began to take your side, but she agreed that bike week was more spread out but also more watered down than years before. What gets you are those piercing green eyes that hold your attention even while the conversation shifts to other people and things. At one point, you notice her licking her lips as if she were the cat, you the canary, and a shiver courses through you.
It is when she too quickly comes to your rescue that you know you should tell this stranger no thanks, but you've had a bit to drink and she seems to be a friend of Kerri Ann's, at least she's in your group. And Kerri Ann is at her yelling point and wanting to hang around, and you want to go home and get something taken care of. The drinks, the close proximity, and you've become revved up, somehow, probably the biker bar, the excitement or it could be the breath in your ear when she whispers hoarsely that her bike is just outside and what fun it would be, the voice cascading like a waterfall. And once more you are within those eyes as they instruct you to follow.
You follow behind, taking in the woman's dimensions as you go. She looks like real biker stock: street boots with hanging chain, leather chaps which accentuate her blue jeans torn so the very tip of her right buttcheek could be seen, a leather vest with rawhide laces that barely conceal how well endowed she is, a leather coat genuine, a leather and stud cap she has just swept on her head along with the fuck-me reflector shades. You are not sure if it is the overpowering scent of her leather-encased body or that the five-inch heels give her a towering presence, but you follow two steps behind outside onto the sidewalk.
You think you hear Kerri Ann's voice, "You're not leaving with Alice are ya, not Malice Alice." And you hear a snort that could be laughter but are not sure, but you hear a cheer ahead as you light out of the building and are not sure if it has anything to do with you or the stranger. She turns to look once more at you, that permanent smirk emerging from the mane of auburn hair that makes you feel she knows what is good for you. You ask her if she's wearing all leather, and she says even in the places you can't see, honey, and you blush as you think briefly of those places. But she takes your hand and smiles, a real smile like she means it, and you smile back as she brings you to the bike parked at the curb.
It is a beautiful Harley, 750 cc with the old-style grilling. It is a long bike, and the interesting feature is that it has two distinctive seat wells and saddles. The one in front is plush and luxurious leather, while the back seat resembles a slice of rawhide on a metal plate. You realize now that your adventure begins that you are not dressed properly at all and try to beg your way out of the ride, but she just nods knowingly. She pushes you against a light pole and deftly rearranges your smart business suit: a button on the coat, two on the skirt, three buttons on the blouse, a little exposure, and it makes you feel a little desirable, "Here, this will make you look more presentable to the crowd," she says as she grabs your shirt out of your skirt and ties it in the back, begins to move your collar down your shoulders, keeping the coat on. You feel confused as your arms are encased in the suit, and you wished you had worn a sexier bra to flaunt your titties that (you smile) are at least as large as hers. She stares down at you now with a hungry look, but breaks into a sweet smile as she takes in the new you and leads you over to her bike. You are still not sure how you are going to ride on that thing, but the sun is setting, and it will be dark soon, so you hike up your skirt (to the amusement of the crowd) and straddle the thing. The stranger comes and fixes your skirt on the back seat, but it is not a comfortable thing to ride on. For one thing, you cannot completely relax your thighs unless you were to do a split practically. The tension on your thighs combined with the sharp edges of the seat digging in give you the impression that it will be a long five-mile ride after all.
She kicks the bike into action, and you are shocked by yours. The vibration of the seat massages your inner thighs; the pain of constriction is going. You have yet to settle in when she whips the bike into the street, jerking you off-balance and back on your haunches. You hear from the crowd, "Hey Alice, you gonna be sharin' some a' dat?" You move slowly down the street, the vibration between your legs is beginning to cover your entire region, and combined with the margaritas, your inhibitions relax with them. There are catcalls from the crowd, "Take it off," and feeling partly embarrassed, partly desirable, you try to pull the silk shirt out and can't, but it doesn't matter because the effort gets you a round of applause.
"Whatever you do on this bike," she turns like a giraffe to speak in my ear, "is your deal. You got it, I won't bail you out, so leave the shirt where it is." You nod, then lean into her, your arms around her. You smell the combination of leather, her perfume, and something else you can't place; your nipples are like pencil erasers, and you blush as you point them at the crowd. But there is something else more important happening to you. Because of the vibration, your thighs have inch by inch opened enough so that now you can feel one of your pussy lips barely scrape a knob of some kind like a saddle horn but not as pronounced, but surely as effective.
You've never felt so horny in your life, never felt so alive, never felt so out of control before with this powerful leather lady horsepower between her legs, the scent of sweat and leather, the sun finally set, she makes her way back up the street. But you live in seconds of anticipation as your thighs give way one more inch, one more lip barely scraping the horn. Your entire being fixated upon minute movements, you are no longer interested in flashing titties or waving to the crowd, all your attention is on those final two inches. Sweat begins dripping from your body, and you're not sure, but you believe that it is you that's groaning. You begin to grab for handfuls of her jacket, then reach around and grab a handful of tit. She turns back to look at you, and you can see your own face mirrored in her glasses, the look of dire need (three months since a boyfriend) almost animalistic, while she portrays no eyes, just that smirk.
You realize that you are passing the original bar that you started, notice the same crowd of women, you see Kerri Ann sitting at her table inside. Then like a rattlesnake, she is upon you, both arms over your shoulders, she plunges your clitoris onto the horn and her tongue down your throat, catching the screaming orgasm as all those moments of build-up come crashing upon you in that final second. As you hear the applause cascading from the curb, you shudder as a wave of humiliation washes over you due to your public display. You know that those dykes were cheering for her, that you are just a toy, a toy to be used, by her, and at that thought, a little squirt seeps out of your pussy onto the seat below.
She loves it, lives for the look, that look of recognition, then the humiliation, then the recognition, and she creams every time she sees the look, especially the humiliation. She holds your cheek in her one hand, her smile like that of a crocodile. "Don't worry, my little slut," another shudder, "that's just the first of many. Main Street is a very long street." Then she laughs, and you know you must get off this thing, but your legs are too weary from doing this split, from just cumming, from tension that you must just ride it out.
Now that your clit has found the horn, it is impossible to get off it, your arms still hung up in your coat give you no relief, your legs not strong enough to lift, your skirt has risen up and floats upward showing your panties to the crowd, your breasts are still in the bra but have shaken a bit loose after the first orgasm. And now another one is coming, stronger than the first, you lean forward, immersing yourself into the scent of leather, and sweat and now a scent you do recognize. You clutch onto her as the second one hits you, gritting your teeth against the onslaught. By moving forward, you have laid your little man flat on the rawhide, riding out the bump and vibration, spewing juices like you have never done before.
Hell, just four hours ago, you were a sweet young girl who worked in an office somewhere in Daytona, and now just another slut grinding away in public, in front of people you might know, the humiliation sends another jet of lubricant soaking your dirty panties, and as that jet comes down, you find yourself humping the seat like a bitch in heat, your arms now torn from the silk to cling to the woman taking you on the hell ride.Who shudders to herself, whether from pleasure or just an evil chuckle, is hard to tell.
Now you have made your way to the bridge and are stuck on the skyway. She humps the bike along, as you hump away yourself, grinding your cunt into the rawhide, your clitoris pulsating. She raises your head to direct you towards the smiling, some laughing faces of the bikers alongside, some pointing as the humiliation seizes you once more, sending more juice dribbling into your panties. Then the bottleneck through, she jerks the bike forward, and an electric shock jolts through your pussy, past your nipples to your back teeth, even your anus winks involuntarily. And as the vibrations increase on 92, you find you match the wail of the engine with one of your own as, once again, you flood the seat.
You are on the open road, but nothing matters anymore except that steady hum of the vibrations continuing forever. You are well past your own apartment complex, but have no sense of direction. Your only concern is to straddle that hellish seat and hang on to this woman for dear life as she guns the motor once again. Then you realize you are crying, whether from the past ordeal or because of the intensity of the orgasms, you can no longer tell, and really they merge as one as you travel forward. Your face gathers in the folds of the leather, sniffing in the intoxicating aromas as you weep your way to another gut-wrenching orgasm.
Finally, the woman slows the bike down and takes a turn onto a lonely dirt road. Your sigh of relief is now drastically contorted as the dirt road transforms the bike into a bucking bronco, each rib and pothole bouncing you up and back upon the seat, mashing your lips against the rawhide. You can feel your pussy lips begin to swell from the pounding, your clit must look like raw meat, the pain even shoots to your anus. After a particularly hard patch, your tears return, but this time they are tears of pain. Blindly you attempt to crawl up the back of this woman to avoid the pain, ripping the silk shirt in the process. "Enjoying yourself, my little slut," the juice again, "How many cums does that make now?" You try to answer, but are cut off as you lose your breath once more over a tortuous depression. "Don't worry, only a little ways farther," she purrs, "and then we can get to know each other a little bit better."
Mercifully, she pulls into a driveway and shuts down the beast between your legs. You try to roll off the bike, but she is there, holding you up by your shirt, ravenously licking the tears from your face, intensely lapping your face like a dog, and a thought comes to you from somewhere, marking you as her bitch. Then she begins kissing all around your neck, she grabs your hand and forces it between her legs, "See how wet you've made me, my little slut." And proceeds to kiss you forcefully, sticking her tongue down your throat, while all you can do is whimper pitifully.
Finally, you are able to break her grasp. You plead with her to stop, that you didn't want this, that you don't want it, to please take you home, and with a disgusted look on her face, she lets go of the shirt, and you tumble into the dirt. Because of your ordeal, you just lay on your back, your legs obscenely open, crying for some reason, the look on her face hurts. Then towering over you, she begins laughing, a cruel laughter, "That's it, I have your new name. The way you're lying there, I guess we'll just have to call you froggy." She leaps off the bike and stands between your legs, the toe of her boot touching your opening. You try to close your legs, but the muscles just won't allow it, and you find yourself humping the hard leather. "Well," she seems amused now, "it appears your nasty cunt is giving you away, humping my shoe like a bitch in heat." She leans forward, placing her knee on your chest, her mouth next to your ear, her entire boot now jammed in the folds of your lips. "My god," she licks your ear while you hump the shoe, trying to muffle your tears as your body betrays you, "you are the nastiest little slut."
And with a groan, you squirt all over the boot. She seems surprised at first, then moving back, she looks at her boot and grins, "I guess I'll call you froggy whenever I want something, but if I want you to cum for me, then I'll just use slut." You groan again but fight back on the embarrassing ejaculation. "There are just a few problems, though, froggy, you only cum when I tell you to cum, and I didn't tell you," she stands fully up as you lay there helplessly open and obscene. "It's time to begin to learn discipline." She rears back and kicks you right in the groin, your breath stopped, you try to rise but fall back. "Get over here and lick this shit off my boot," she kicks again, and you scramble to get out of the way as the toe hits your inner thigh. She grabs a handful of hair and thrusts your face into the laces of the boot. "Lick it up, lick your slime off you fucking bitch," she holds your face down, but you won't open your mouth, "Come on, froggy, let's see if you have a froggy tongue, start lapping your nasty cunt juice off of my beautiful boots." "Come on, cunt, I said lick," she jams your face harder against the laces. "Come on, do it for me, you little slut," she sees some pink, "oh, so that's the way it is. Lick it up, slut, that's it, you pathetic little slut." You notice to your horror that every time she calls you slut, your tongue darts out, and she begins laughing and chanting 'slut' to the rhythm of your tongue as it licks up your vile secretions mixed with the tears that begin once again.
You feel the grip of her fist in your hair as she lifts you to your hands and knees. You try to rise, but the pressure in your hair tells you to remain in position, "That's it, froggy, you're my little bitch now." She leads, using your hair like a leash, you up the three cement steps. You must look a mess by now: your face streaked with mascara, silk shirt torn, skirt ridden up your ass exposing your dripping panties, walking on all fours; defeated. She opens the door and throws you inside, the pain from your hair roots excruciating. "Froggy position," and the tears again as you lie on your back and spread your legs, exposing your pussy for her pleasure. | null | null | Authors/pylades/froggy.txt |
87,560 | Archone | Aphrodisiac Powder | Yuffie stood in her father's home, in the bedroom he had reserved for her friends. With her head hung in shame, she mumbled out, "I'm sorry."
Raising up a clenched fist, Cid said in his rough voice, "SORRY ain't good enough, kid! We trusted you, and you went and pulled this #@$%^ on us!" (Note by author: yes, I know you're old enough to hear profanity, but that's how they wrote it in the game, and I'm trying to remain true to the story)
As Cid continued to berate her, punctuated by remarks from Barret, who gesticulated with the cybernetic hand that he utilized when not fighting with gun hand or blade (Note by author: how else could he use both hands in manipulating objects, as seen throughout the game), and Cloud and Vincent looked on impassively, Cloud with his usual cool expression, and Vincent with the look that meant he was blaming himself for Yuffie's sins and would be having nightmares about them in short order. Only Red XIII, preoccupied with a strange scent in the air, was unconcerned about the argument.
"So you wanted to help yer home, huh?" growled Barret, shaking his fist, "you shoulda just ASKED for our help! We're AVALANCHE, remember? We fight 'gainst $#%^@ Shinra, wherever, whenever!" Red XIII sniffed more curiously. The scent appeared to be coming from Yuffie's head and shoulders, where a faint trace of some kind of powder remained. He sniffed again to try to identify the powder. Then his long red penis unfurled. He snorted in surprise, and inhaled more of the scent.
Vic and Barret were closer to Yuffie, and began to be affected as well. Their body posture became more ominous, and they seemed ready to physically assault her. Cloud and Vincent leaned forward to speak up, drew breath, and began to arouse, themselves.
Yuffie stood there, with tears running down her cheeks, and a new smell began to permeate the air, as juices trickled down her thighs. Finally, she whispered, "I know, I deserve to be punished."
Vic roared, "Oh, I'll punish you all right!" And grabbed for her. Tearing off her clothes with barely restrained lust, he turned her around and entered her from behind, slamming his dick into her cunt with furious lust. She groaned and cried, with liquids flowing from both her eyes and cunt. Barret removed his clothes as well, then forcefully fed her his own large brown member. She gagged even as she worked to take more of it.
Cloud and Vincent had begun to remove their clothing as well, with the powerful compassionate nature they worked so hard to hide blended with the lust to blank out their forebrains. They waited for their turn, as did Red XIII, who growled with lust as he waited. Yuffie moaned and shook as Vic and Barret continued to pound her young body.
In her room at the Turtle's Paradise Resort hotel and restaurant, Elena examined the bag of powder critically. The shopkeeper had told her that a bag would make her irresistible to men, but it would only work when activated by her sweat. She had purchased two, but had lost one when Corneo captured her. It had opened up while she was being let down, and the powder had dusted onto that girl Yuffie. She shrugged, and opened the bag, dusting herself liberally about the face and neck. She then rose from her chair, critically observed her lean athletic figure, with shapely curves decorated by white silk shirt under black coat and slacks, then left for Reno's room.
Reno lay on his bed, reading a humorous novel, when he heard the knock on his door. Immediately, his gun came out. "Who is it?" he asked in his cool, calm voice.
"Elena."
The gun whipped back into hiding. "Enter."
Elena entered and looked at him appraisingly. Reno's calm exterior was maintained with effort, as she examined his form, nude save for his underwear. "What do you want, Elena," he managed to get out without quavering.
She smiled, and a faint sheen appeared on her forehead. "I just wanted to thank you, Reno... for saving me... and teaching me to be professional, and always being there." Her hand came to rest on his inner thigh, and his groin began to bulge under the underwear. Her smile broadened, and the hand stroked upward in a teasing caress, then slipped underneath the cotton to fondle him. Reno gasped.
"Elena..." he managed to gasp out, then grabbed her arms and pulled her down to him. As she lay on top of him, he began removing her coat, then shirt, before fondling her breasts, freed from a bra beforehand to expedite the seduction. She moaned softly, her nipples hardened to painful knots as his penis throbbed in similar discomfort, the blood rushing through them till they were hard as steel.
Elena gasped as his hands unzipped her pants and removed them. She positioned herself over his average-sized penis, then slowly lowered herself down. She began to ride him, slowly at first, then faster, as they both moaned and gasped and cried out words of encouragement. Finally, his penis spurted inside her. She kept going until her own orgasm hit, then screamed, shook, then fell atop him, crying and hugging him as she repeated, over and over, "I love you, I love you, I love you."
Reno flipped her back onto the bed, then began kissing her thighs, pleasuring her artfully as he waited for his hardon to return. Elena shook with orgasms, as her mouth swelled into a voluptuous, triumphant smile.
Aeris and Tifa returned from their shopping trip, having gathered provisions to see them through to the next town; foodstuffs to supplement what they gleaned from the land, Cure potions, a few new Materia, clothing, blankets, etc. when they heard exciting noises coming from the bedroom. Trading looks, they opened the door to the shocking sight of Red XIII humped over a naked Yuffie, growling in bestial lust as he slammed into her with powerful strokes, Yuffie sobbing and crying and shaking the while, sticky fluids running down her face. The other men stood one side, waiting their turn, as Tifa and Aeris gasped.
"What are you guys doing?" Tifa cried out, horrified, as they turned to regard her. Suddenly, she realized that she was growing excited herself, as her thighs became hot and moist. Aeris was in similar straits beside her, though her expression showed less horror or disgust. "Stop it at once!"
"No... no... no..." Yuffie gasped out with each powerful thrust of Red's loins. "Du...du..don't... Stop! More.... More... oh... ah... Oh Gawd!" Her cries excited all present still further, and the men advanced on the newcomers.
Barret and Vic each grabbed one of Aeris' arms, and began stripping her while she stroked herself. They then laid her down on one of the beds, and as Barret began shoving himself into her, Vic fondled and sucked on her breasts and throat.
Tifa shook with lust and horror as Cloud grabbed her, and began stripping her. Unable to fight, she gasped out, "How could you?" A hurt, apologetic look appeared in Cloud's eyes, even as they continued to blaze with lust. She looked at him, then reached out for him with an accepting smile, and received her long awaited prize.
Red XIII roared out as he poured another load into Yuffie's cunt, and dismounted to be replaced by a hungry Vincent.
The morning sun shone through the window, as Elena and Reno lay in bed, in that blissful half awake, half asleep time, made sweeter yet by having someone to snuggle with. As she rubbed against him in a loving, sleepy manner, Reno gazed down at her face, framed by straight blond hair in a page boy cut. "Why did you do that?" he finally asked, even as he held her close.
"I've wanted to for a long time now," she murmured, and rubbed her head on his shoulder to find a more comfortable position.
"Why did I do that, then?" he wondered. "This isn't something I'd usually do." She smirked as she told him about the powder, and how she had used it. He nodded.
Suddenly she looked up at him, worried. "You're not mad, are you?" she asked.
Reno smiled and kissed her tenderly. "Not as long as you don't let it affect your performance on duty. Remember, we're professionals. We don't let our private lives interfere with our work." Elena smiled and kissed him back. He held her for some time, then suddenly raised his head.
"I wonder what happened to AVALANCHE after their exposure to the powder?" he wondered aloud. Elena snorted and laughed, and he began to chuckle as well.The next morning, Tifa lay in bed nude, possessed, as always, of that sexy housewife/mother demeanor as she held Cloud, his face buried between her breasts, firm with exercise and use of a bra, yet quite large. At her side, Aeris, with an angelic beauty more eminently fuckable than any succubus could hope to compete with, smiled with an arm around both Vincent and Vic, whose own arms held and fondled her. On the other bed, Yuffie, with her innocent yet naughty schoolgirl look, had her hands and face buried in Red XIII's soft red fur while Barret's strong arms held her from behind.
Tifa opened her eyes, and too exhausted and happy to stand up in surprise and shock, simply asked quietly, "What did we just do?"
Red XIII answered, "I smelled a powder on Yuffie. When she began sweating, she began releasing pheromones. She must have gotten it on her during the fracas with Corneo."
"I'm glad," said Cloud. "This finally got my mind on something besides chasing down that idiot Sephiroth. Not that we'll stop chasing him, of course." This was muffled slightly as he was unwilling to lift his head from its heavenly resting place.
Vincent added, "This was the first night in a long time that I had no nightmares. My dreams were as pleasant as the reality beforehand."
Vic looked at Yuffie. "Tell me, kid. You learned your lesson?"
Yuffie smiled, "I'll never do anything to hurt you guys again, I promise." She added quickly, "but I still think I deserve to be punished some more." Everyone chuckled, and the lovers in two rooms and on two opposing sides of a conflict began languorous morning sessions, taking a welcome respite from the pains of the world. | null | null | Authors/vgss/hosted/ff7-ap.txt |
87,618 | null | The Video Gamer's Sex Stories Volume 23: Final Fantasy 10 - Hopeless Desire | Yuna grunted forcefully as she was thrown end over end into the hold of an Al-Bhed ship. She had ceased fighting her captors once they had come aboard, knowing this was too far away from the city for anyone to hear her cries of distress. Whatever these men were after, though, the young summoner was defiant that they would not get it.
"I know what you're after!" she lashed out hotly, glaring at the goggled faces sizing her up. "And you won't get it! I have four Guardians with me... they'll be here to rescue me soon!"
One of the men stepped forward, surveying her with hidden eyes. After a few seconds, he turned to a comrade and nodded. "Tie her," he ordered quickly.
As if sensing what was about to happen, Yuna lay still for a moment, waiting for just the right moment to pass before striking out heroically when one approached. Her boots connected solidly with the Al-Bhed's shin, sending him tottering away in pain. The smile of triumph on the summoner's face lasted only a second, just long enough for the leader to get in close and slug her in the gut.
"The hard way, then..." he snarled, reaching behind her to untie the large yellow bow about the pretty female's waist. Too out of breath to stop him, Yuna simply choked as her white blouse was pulled away, revealing a lacy black bra beneath.
"Nice..." he continued, leering at the covered mounds protruding from the teenager's chest. "I can't wait to see your pussy."
Yuna let her head sink down at what she knew must be obscenely foul words, finding enough courage to respond only when his hands began to make their way towards her blue dress. "Nothing you can do will stop my pilgrimage..." she hissed, loud enough to halt him. "Not even if you dishonor me!"
"Sluts aren't allowed in the temples..." her attacker replied coldly, pulling the long skirt away with great force. The onlookers behind let loose a chorus of approving gasps as her flesh came into view, accented by a pair of matching black panties covering her holy place. It took all their willpower to resist pouncing on the helpless girl, but they knew patience would yield a turn at her body in time.
"You're wet for me..." the man said softly from between Yuna's legs, deftly rubbing her damp crotch. She clenched her teeth and turned away as her vestal cleft was gently probed, wondering if he really thought she was aroused by this whole debasement, and not just sweaty from the warm Lucan clime.
It would only be a matter of time, Lulu had warned when they set out from Besaid. The elder woman knew all too well that such a beautiful summoner would prove to be an irresistible target to anyone with a penis. Yuna had, of course, responded with a look of abject horror, unable to believe anyone would dare rape a servant of Yevon. The godless people of Bikanel, however, had no such qualms about forcibly taking her chastity.
"No..." Yuna moaned feebly, shuddering as the now-nude Al-Bhed crawled along the length of her body. She could feel every minute detail of his features as their skin pressed together, and then a uniquely insistent throbbing poke at her belly. He had taken *it* out, and soon it would be inside her.
"Please... don't!" she begged now, starting to cry as her bra was torn open and undergarments pulled down, releasing her untouched breasts and vagina to the world. "I'll do anything else, just not that!"
"Too late..." a heartless voice muttered, gripping the shapely female's shoulders as he began to push into her deepest reaches.
Yuna lost all composure, yelling out in vain as her virgin tunnel was penetrated. Shutting her eyes tightly, she forced a few tears out even as the hot spike continued to ravish her loins. It was not so much painful as having extremely filling, drowning out all other sensations. By the time she had regained herself, the evil man was entirely in her womb.
"Oh... no...!" she sobbed dramatically, feeling a sticky fluid running down her thighs, knowing her purity was lost forever. "Take it... out!"
"No way..." her violator groaned, then switching to English to deliver an especially sharp barb. "Virgins are always the best!"
Her dread and revulsion at such a remark was dwarfed only by what the hapless sorceress did not know about Al-Bhed culture. In such a remote and relatively lawless society, young girls were routinely "relieved" of their virginity quite early -- by marauding bands who simply scooped up the nubile youths on machina digs.
Shrieking every time the dirty member polluted her inner sanctum, Yuna tried to vocalize her plight once again, but only managed to squeal lamentably as the unwelcome lover rolled their conjoined bodies closer together. Still groaning, the desecrated caller found herself suddenly on the receiving end of long, deep strokes, her tits forced to bounce repeatedly by the strength of their slapping crotches. She felt like nothing more than a common whore, but the struggling seemed to only incite the watching rouges even further.
"You can't..." she panted, feeling the hot spike begin to pulse in her sopping quim. "I am a... summoner. I must... remain... pure!"
"Sorry..." The grunting man intoned selfishly, holding her tightly to him. "Here it comes!"
"Nooooooo!" Yuna wailed desperately, tears springing from her eyes as warm fluid began splashing her sacred womb. To add insult to injury, her Al-Bhed partner brought his goggled-eyes to hers and licked every inch of her face as he erupted, soiling her from each end until totally wasted.
Crying, the Besaid beauty was helpless to prevent even further degradation as the heartless male stretched her legs apart and showed off his handiwork to the others. Instead, she closed her eyes and allowed them to examine her tarnished womanhood, barely flinching when another moved in to repeat the procedure.
This time, there was no pain at all when he entered -- the previous violator had really stretched her tunnel with his relentless pummeling. Still, as she was rolled over onto her side and forced to lift her leg to provide access, Yuna had to hold back a sniffle until her sanctum was penetrated once more, allowing her mind to be swallowed by the steady, sexual rhythm.
She rocked and swayed with each push, trying to stifle anger at the way her vagina was facilitating violation by blithely accommodating each invading rod. Unsatisfied with merely taking in the delights of her pussy, the man reached forward and groped Yuna's breasts shamelessly, rewarding his unwilling partner with even harder lunges when the nipples eventually became tantalizingly erect.
The prone summoner started to wheeze each time the forceful jabs sent the air out of lungs -- ashamed at the way she knew she must sound, but also knowing it had a better chance of ending the depravity quicker than a lackluster performance would have. She did not have to wait long for it to have an effect, for the dirty man responded almost instantly to her vocalizations.
Resting her leg on his shoulder so he could get in even closer, the second Al-Bhed furiously fucked Yevon's disciple, relishing greatly an opportunity to expel his seed in a holy woman's unprotected belly. Yuna only gritted her teeth defiantly while he sprayed her already greasy channel with sperm, offhandedly wondering how Lulu could ever have consented to this with Chappu.
For the second time, she felt the pressure in her moist canal ease, leaving her seemingly hollow and empty. The interlude did not last, however, and the last one took his place with an especially avid grin. After allowing his hands to wander her nearly-naked form, he coaxed the shapely female onto hands and knees without any protest at all.
All Yuna could concentrate on was enduring this final test and getting back to her journey. The shock and frustration of her broken celibacy was quickly receding, and she at least had the comfort of knowing that none of her guardians were here to witness it. She was so lost in thought that her muscles had already compensated for the beast-style trespassing by the time it commenced.
Although this was by far the most awkward position so far, with her mounds flailing wildly underneath and the underlying implication that she was raising her butt in the air as a sexual offering, Braska's daughter remained silent as the stranger had his way, playfully slapping her ass as he reamed her slick hole.
Having had to wait so long, and manually keep himself hard, the last man was in no state to maintain pace for long. For awhile, he kept it up nobly, trying urgently to savor what would be the highlight of his miserable life. But, Yuna was skillfully squeezing her inner walls together, providing an intense burst of pleasure that virtually pleaded with him to squirt right away.Unable to resist, he let go and discharged his spunk. The copious amount mixed with the previous two loads and sloshed out all over the brunette's dainty genitals. She emitted a slight "aah" of relief as he softened, only to follow up with a disgusted groan as he rubbed his rod all over her bush, completely drenching her pubes in cum.
Yuna moved hesitantly towards her clothes, wondering if they would simply stop her and just continue to relentlessly hump her to death. No harsh words impeded her progress, however, and the worn summoner slowly pulled her panties back on. It was mortifyingly revolting to feel the baby-juice still leaking from her twat, now spread everywhere by the silky garment, but there was simply nothing that could be done.
The Al-Bhed were perfectly content to let her go, seeing as that trying to keep someone so famous hostage would be quite difficult, even if it meant they would be able to pound such a fine pussy literally at will. So, upon standing up and rapidly striding towards the exit, no one made an effort to stop her. She quickly disappeared onto the deck, racing towards the dock and nearest inn.
Yuna knew that her secret would eventually be discovered, at least by a few of her friends. There was usually no hiding anything from Lulu, and Kimahri would definitely pick up the unusual scent with his strong nose. The important thing, though, was that he would be too busy trying to get close to her to notice any change of demeanor. And that was exactly how she wanted Tidus to act around her -- blissfully unaware. | null | null | Authors/vgss/www/vgss_23_finalfantasy10c.txt |
87,747 | Pussywillow | My New Neighbors | Yeah, I remember way back at the time when my folks lived in a large older house with a huge backyard, and of course, most of the other houses on our street were also built somewhat the same way.
All I remember was that our backyard and the house next to ours, besides being quite large, had many trees, bushes, and hedges all around that made the backyards very private where no one could see into each other's yards except from that one vantage point that I eventually found where I could spy into the yard next to ours.
Because I was a very introverted lad, I considered myself pretty much a loner. The reason why is because I felt so much better and more at ease just playing by myself than with the other boys I knew. I guess all I wanted was just to be left alone.
That was about the time that I noticed the house next to ours, that was for sale, had been sold. So I watched as the new neighbors moved in.
During the summer days that followed, I noticed that our new neighbor was a single mom with a very cute little daughter, who I guess, was a little younger than I was, and I also noticed that the woman seemed to be out in the backyard quite often with her daughter while she puttered around in the yard.
As I continued to watch, I noticed that the little girl was almost always wearing what, I now years later, call "Shirley Temple" type dresses. Of course, that was the style all of the little girls wore back then, I guess, in order to show off their cute legs. I noticed that she was very nicely slim and strikingly beautiful with her long flowing golden brown hair flowing clear down well past her shoulders. I also noticed that her panties were always showing every time she did anything besides just stand.
Her mother, I thought, was also so pretty that she actually looked like she might be a movie star of sorts, and you might say that I was really quite enamored with them – especially the little girl.
After a few days of spying on them, I guess the mother noticed me watching them from my vantage point, and she invited me on over to their yard saying, "Hi! I'm Myra Hendricks, your new neighbor. But you can just call me Myra. What's your name?"
I felt myself blush as I replied, "Mike."
"Hi Mike, would you like to come on over to our yard for a little refreshment?"
Both Myra and her daughter really fascinated me by being so feminine and all that stuff since I had never really been around any other females except my mother. So just out of curiosity, I replied, "Sure."
As we sat around an outdoor table on a terra-cotta tiled covered patio, eating cookies and drinking ice-cold lemonade, she said, "My name's Myra, and my daughter here is Amy. She's seven and won't be eight until next month. How old are you Mike?"
"Eleven."
"Well, eleven is a good age. I've seen you watching us for the last several days now, so how would you like to be friends with Amy here and give her someone to play with? We haven't found anyone her age around here for her to play with yet, so I thought that maybe you can come over whenever you can and keep her company for a while. Would you like that?"
Being so fascinated with both Myra and her daughter, Amy, with all their frilly girlish ways, I just couldn't say no. So I sheepishly replied, "Well – a – yeah – I guess so."
In the ensuing days, Amy and I got to be friendlier and friendlier as her mother guided us through various different activities and games in their backyard each day while I felt my fascination for the two of them grow more and more.
Yes, Amy was a very beautiful little girl with a very slim but not skinny body. She also had this real long golden hair that seemed to just flow well down over her shoulders, and when she was standing next to me I realized that my chin just cleared the top of her head.
Of course, there were little things that a boy like me noticed; like when Amy was wearing her shorts, the crotch of her pants seemed to be so empty to me, as compared to a boy's pants, and because I had never before given any thought about just how different girls really are compared to boys, that got me started on wondering on just how differently little girls really are built down there.
Sometimes as we ran around playing ball and other games, I saw her in her short pretty dresses that would all too often reveal the crotch of her white or printed panties, and oh how so different it appeared to be down there.
As I continued to visit with them, I realized that I now had an inner feeling inside of me that kept drawing me back over to her backyard each afternoon just like a magnet – just for the chance to again play with this most charming little creature as her very lovely mother guided us on.
On this one particular afternoon, I noticed that her mother had just purchased a plastic backyard pool and was in the act of filling it while I saw Amy happily dancing around in anticipation of using it as I approached.
Finally Myra looked up and saw me.
I then saw her smile at me as I heard her say, "I thought that since it was so hot out that maybe you two would like to take a little dip. So I brought this home."
She kept on chatting about various other idle things until she had finally filled the pool, and that's when I saw her suddenly turn and look first at Amy and then at me a couple of times very questionably before she suddenly asked, "Do you have any swimming trunks?"
I had to reply "No," because I couldn't remember ever having any use for a pair. So, I then just watched as she just stood there in thought for a moment before I heard her say, "Well, I guess that because the two of you being so young yet, I guess that there shouldn't be any real harm in the two of you using the pool with just your underwear on.
As I looked over at Amy, I could see that she was already taking off her clothes. But then as I very embarrassingly just stood there watching, I was really quite shocked as I saw Amy take off her top and then pull down her shorts, completely exposing her bare girly chest and all of her white underpants to me.
Then I heard Amy excitedly say, "Come on Mike, get your clothes off too so that we can both get in the pool."
I guess that was all the push I needed, so I went ahead and very brazenly removed all my clothes except my underpants right out there in the open – right in front of both Amy and her mother.
I had never before ever exposed myself this much in front of anybody in my whole life except maybe my mother, and I now felt really quite embarrassed standing there right before that little girl and her beautiful mother in only my jockey shorts. But I guess seeing Amy standing there all wet in the middle of the pool with nothing on except her thin underpants and her mother doing nothing but just smiling at us, I now had the feeling like I was now in some sort of a weird trance as I too stepped into the plastic wading pool with just my underpants on.
After I got in and sat down with Amy, I could now feel the coolness of the water all around me as I suddenly felt Amy very gigglingly splash water at me, and that sort of knocked me out of my trance, and I started enjoying myself by splashing water back at her while she continued splashing me.
Soon we were both wrestling and splashing all around in the foot or so of water that was in that small pool, and soon, I became completely oblivious of her mother sitting over at the table reading a book while keeping an eye on us.
I guess, because of the mostly naked body contact that we were making in the pool, my small dick soon became hard as a rock as I felt her mostly naked wet girlish body against my own along with all of her girlish laughter from us wrestling and splashing around.
Also, whenever she stood up, I could now see her very wet semitransparent underpants sticking to her body while now showing a beautiful outline of her sex which suddenly gave me a very good idea on just what little girls really looked like down there, and that certainly didn't help my sexual excitement either.
Of course, I was still very oblivious about just how much my hard dick actually showed whenever I stood up, and, of course, I was suddenly shocked to feel Amy's small hand grasping my underpants covered hard dick as she very gigglingly asked, "What's this?"
I then heard her mother proclaim, "Oh that's just his little dicky darling. All boys have one."
But then I was really taken aback as she asked, "Can I see it mother?"
"I'm sorry, you'll have to ask him yourself dear," I heard her mother reply.
Then I saw Amy look me right in the eyes with that smiling giggling face of hers and asked, "Can I see?"
I now just stood there in sexual shock while feeling her small hand still grasping my hard dick. But then, I was just too confused and too shocked to say anything when I heard her mother reply, "I don't think that he's going to just pull his pants down and show you his without you offering to show him yours also honey."
MY GADS! Was her mother actually saying for her to show me hers if I'd take my pants off and show her mine? Right there? Right in front of both her and her mother?
I then heard Amy ask, "If I take off my panties, will you take off yours?"I looked very questioningly over at Myra as I saw her smile while I heard her say, "Well, I guess all children have to learn about sex sometime, so I believe it'll be all right for you two to take off your underpants and examine each other if you wish to."
As I looked back over to Amy, I heard her gigglingly say, "I'll take my panties off if you do the same."
I then watched in shocked awe as Amy very gigglingly went right ahead and pulled down her wet panties right there right in front of me, and then just stood there very brazeningly while now being completely naked, right there right in front of me, waiting for me to do the same.
As I looked at her now entirely naked body, I realized that it was the very first time that I ever saw what a girl really looked like down there as I stared at what I thought was a very cute little puffy thing of hers that she had in-between her legs that seemed split in the middle and looked to me very much like another pair of lips.
Without her mother saying another word, I finally but gradually reached down to the elastic band of my underpants. But before I could go any further, I felt Amy, very gigglingly, quickly pull my underpants clear down to my knees, and suddenly, there I was now, naked as a jaybird right out there in front of God and everybody with my real hard dick sticking straight out like a telephone pole, and I noticed that Amy suddenly had a very surprised expression on her face as she put her hands up to her mouth, "WOW! So that's what a boy's thing looks like!" I heard her exclaim just before she then grasped my hard dick in her hand.
I just stood there in an absolute sexual shock of suddenly finding this little naked girl both looking at and grasping my hard dick as I heard her mother say, "It's not a thing dear, it's called a penis, and from the looks of it, it looks like he's also pretty well sexually excited."
From hearing what her mother was saying to us and feeling Amy's small hand grasping my dick, I now suddenly came to the conclusion that her mother really didn't mind at all if we actually played with each other's sex organs. So I just stood there in a state of wild sexual excitement as I felt Amy's small hands start roaming all around on my dick and balls while I felt my sexual feelings starting to soar.
The more that she played with it, the wilder it felt, and I could even feel my sexual excitement continue to soar and soar until I felt my head start to buzz while my whole body now just seemed to glow with an euphoria of sexual feelings that I had never known before just before I felt every muscle in my body then just seem to freeze right on up just as I felt the explosion of my climax that started sending whole bunches of that weird whitish stuff shooting out of my dick, and it felt so wild and wonderful each time that it did it, that I just could not believe it.
It was then, that I realized that I was shooting out what one of my friends called cum, way out all over the place, right there – right in front of God and everybody as I saw Amy looking really quite confused about what was happening until we heard her mother state, "Oh dear, you just gave him a climax honey. I didn't think he was old enough to do that yet, but I guess that he is, isn't he? But it won't hurt you; it's all really quite harmless but it can be real sticky and gooey though."
I then watched as Amy played around with my cum, and as it fell into the water, I noticed that it sort of congealed into little white masses. But soon, she tired of playing with it, so we tried to get the stuff off of her and out of the wading pool.
Afterwards, she turned to me and said, "It's your turn now."
Oh my gosh, my brain was still in an erotic buzz as I watched her sit down on the edge of the pool, and spread her legs out real wide open for me, and that's when I suddenly realized that it was now my turn to actually touch and examine all of her real private girly charms that had always been so forbidden to me in the past.
So I got down on my knees before her and had a jolly good old time of it rubbing my fingers all over her fantastic naked pussy, examining and probing all around everywhere I could get until I heard her gigglingly say, "Rub me right there... No this way... No, the other way... Oh yes, that's it... Oh yes, that feels real good now, keep on doing it."
I then saw her just lean back and smile at me as I sat there on my knees in the pool rubbing her most fantastic erotically beautiful pussy, all while I knew that her mother was still sitting over there watching us and what I was doing to her daughter.
As I did so, I saw Amy smile more and more until I felt her whole body just seemed to gradually freeze up and stay ridged for several seconds before she finally collapsed, leaned forward and grasped my head with her arms.
At that point, I was absolutely flabbergasted as I heard her mother ask, "Did that feel real good honey?"
Then I heard a little girlish voice right above me reply "Uh-huh."
But soon she was back up laughing and giggling as we now chased each other all over the backyard naked no less; making up excuses to grope each other's privates until we finally settled down on the grass with my hand in-between her legs while she very curiously ran her fingers all over my hard dick for a while before I heard her ask, "How do you make it squirt?"
By now, I was so far into the joys of having sexual fun with my young playmate that I actually felt the freedom of no longer feeling any apprehension what so ever about touching Amy or having her touch me, especially right there – right in front of her mother as she had actually given us permission to do so.
As we both sat on our knees, I took her hand and showed her just how to rub it back and forth on my dick. Then, as she did that, I put my fingers back down against her real cute puffy pussy and smiled as I heard her giggle while I felt her moving her fingers back and forth on my hard dick just like I showed her.
I had just learned the joys of masturbation just weeks before I met Amy and her mother, so that's how I even knew how to place her fingers on my dick in the first place.
As we both just sat there on our knees enjoying each other sexually, I now had the feeling that I had drifted off somewhere into a 'Never-never land' where there were absolutely no sexual taboos at all.
Soon, from both watching and feeling her small hand moving back and forth on my hard dick and feeling of her small naked body pressed against mine, she had my sexual excitement way up there again and I had the feeling like I was flying higher than a sexual kite as I felt myself erupt into a best ever climax again with my cum shooting way out all over the place while I heard her giggle at what was happening to me.
Again, we had my sticky cum all over us, and I watched as she played with a small pool of it with her finger for a bit before I heard her say, "Do me now."
Oh that really excited me, actually having a girl that really wanted me to both touch and play with her pussy.
Leaning back against a tree, I cuddled her up in-between my legs with her back against me while she spread her legs way out for me. I then rubbed my fingers all around all over the contours of her pussy for a bit before I settled down to rubbing my fingers in the same spot, that she had shown me before. So there we were while she just sat there against me, watching just what I was doing to her.
After a bit, I felt her twist her body around so that she could wrap her arms around my neck as I continued rubbing her pussy.
It wasn't long before I felt her arms squeeze my neck as I felt her whole body just sort of freeze up for a few seconds before she went completely limp again. So I just held her there until she revived herself and smiled at me as I heard her say, "Oooooooo, that felt so gooooooood!"
Then we ran back to the wading pool and rinsed as much cum off of us as we could.
As we were drying off, I heard my mother calling me, and I said, "I gotta go."
Then, as I was putting my clothes back on, I heard Myra ask, "Well, did you have a good time today?"
As I quickly remembered all of the wild sexual things that had happened to me that afternoon, I felt myself just beam as I replied, "I certainly did Mrs. Hendricks, I mean Myra, I certainly did."
The next day, I had absolutely no qualms at all about getting completely undressed before getting into the wading pool with Amy.
We both then very happily played around, not caring where our hands and fingers touched each other while each of us hoped it would be in just the right places as her mother just sat there at the table reading her book.
I had found that it was really a heck of a lot of fun to feel her small hands playing around with my dick and have her jerk me off. Heck, it felt a thousand times better than when I did it myself. But I also found that she also loved to have me rub her pussy for her also. But I noticed that for some reason she always has to cuddle up to me whenever I do it to her though.
Because of our newfound fascination with each other's sex, we even made provisions in our little games where she has to jerk me off or I have to rub her pussy for her; all while her mother just sat there reading her book while watching us.
All to my delight, this continued on each succeeding day while her mother gradually explained to us all about our sex organs until one day, when at her mother's suggestion, Amy actually tasted my cum.
When she found that my cum didn't taste all that bad, Myra suggested that she put my dick into her mouth and actually suck on it.
To my consternation and bewilderment, I just sat there on the edge of the wading pool while I very excitedly watched as Amy knelt down in-between my legs and actually put her mouth down over my hard dick.
I was certainly very confused about why she would want to put 'the thing that I went to the bathroom with' into her mouth.But as I felt her warm, wet mouth and tongue rubbing all around the head of my hard dick, I very quickly changed my mind. There she was, smiling up at me as I watched her mouth very busily sucking all around on my hard dick. Wow, I never knew that anything could ever feel as good as this, and as I continued to watch and feel her suck on my dick, I felt like I was now in seventh heaven.
But all too soon, she brought my sexual feelings way on up until she finally made me climax. Oh wow! I just couldn't believe what I was doing as I felt myself shoot load after load of my cum right into her small mouth, and I knew I was really doing it because I could actually see some of it dribble back out of her mouth as I saw her trying to swallow as much of it as she could.
When she finally took her mouth away from my dick, I heard her mother ask, "Did you like that, dear?"
"Oh yes, I thought that it was lots of fun and really spooky to feel his penis inside my mouth. But it didn't taste too icky though."
Then I heard Myra say, "Hey Mike? Why don't you do that to her now. I bet she'll really love it. Won't you, dear?"
As soon as Amy heard her mother say that, she almost went into a giggling fit. So, as I looked at Amy standing there before me, I again stared at her real cute, puffy pussy. Then, as I continued to stare at it, I asked, "But what if she pees?"
"Oh, don't worry, she won't. She hasn't yet, has she?"
So I had to answer, "No."
"Well, she can't when she's sexually excited."
I thought that one over for a moment, and then asked, "But how can I tell if she is or not?"
"Well, it's pretty hard to tell. But her vulva actually swells up a little and looks fatter than normal when she is. But don't worry, when she feels your mouth and tongue down on her pussy, she's going to be very, very sexually excited."
I then watched as she laid down on the lawn while I then laid down with my head in-between her legs, and then adjusted myself until I had her pussy right next to my mouth.
Wow, this all looked so weird and erotic to me to see her now spread wide open pee-pee right there right in front of my face. I also noticed that her pussy lips had actually opened up so wide that I could now see everything inside. So I finally took the plunge.
Physically, it really wasn't all that much, just some of what looked to be very delicate soft skin, and as I probed around with my tongue, I really didn't notice any real taste because we both had been playing in the pool just a short time before. But I guess that it was just the psychology of it all that really got to me. Here I was, laying down here actually licking and sucking with my mouth and tongue all over this little girl's pussy - her most private area that she goes to the bathroom with, and on top of that, I could hear her giggling and squealing as she moved her little butt all around all over the place and was even trying to hump it up at me.
But I soon realized, that the more I sucked on her pussy, the more that I really wanted to. It was then that I realized that I was hooked, absolutely hooked, and I now felt that I was really having a grand old time of it of both sucking and licking all over until I discovered her little thingy in the front part of her pussy; the one that Myra called her clit something. As I sucked it into my mouth, I felt her go real wild, and that prompted me to suck on it even more. So the more that I sucked on it, the wilder she seemed to get until, all of a sudden, I felt her whole body just freeze up for several seconds.
It was then that I realized that she had what her mother said was an orgasm.
When I felt her go limp again, I finally took my mouth away as I then heard her plead, "No! Keep on doing it more. Please!"
Then I heard her mother say, "Since you liked that so much, why don't you do it to him while he does it to you again. I bet you'll find that to be a lot of fun also."
Both Amy and I looked at each other, and then we scrambled around on the grass so that my head was in-between her legs and she had my hard dick back in her mouth.
My gads, I never dreamed that there could be so much sexual fun as this. So there I was, slobbering all over her pussy again while I felt her mouth very busily sucking away on the head of my dick.
But we both liked it so much that we didn't let go until she got me off three more times. I guess that I got her off several times also, but we finally had to quit because my dick was now starting to hurt from over use.
As we sat there smiling at each other over what we had just done to each other, I heard her mother say, "Since you two like each other so much, why don't you two go ahead and kiss each other?"
As we both looked at each other and smiled, I realized that I had never kissed anyone else before in my life except my mother. So, as I watched Amy lean towards me, I leaned toward her until our lips met.
It seemed so weird but also so pleasant and comforting to be kissing this small girl, but then I realized just where I just had my mouth, and I realized that just kissing her on her lips on her face was so much more tamer than where I had had my mouth just moments before.
But I wrapped my arms around Amy and we both had a wonderful time just kissing each other as an aftermath to what we had been doing to each other for what seemed a long time until Myra finally called us over for cookies and milk.
I now believe that I was actually falling in love with her.
Because of that, I very excitedly continued to visit Amy and her mom every afternoon while we continued to run around naked having very wonderful erotic sexual adventures with each other out there in her backyard and right in front of her mother no less.
But one afternoon soon after that, I had my hand down there rubbing on her pussy when I could feel one of my fingers actually slip right into a hole that I didn't know even existed before.
As my finger started in, I noticed Amy smiling at me, so I continued to work my finger on into her further and further until I realized that I had my finger buried as far into her as it would go, and then, I curiously worked my finger all around and in and out of that hole in her as she wrapped her arms around me, and there I was, actually finger-fucking this little girl as I looked over at her mother to see if she was going to bawl me out or something. But all she did was just smile at me.
As I continued, all Amy did was just writhe around and hug me even more tightly until I could feel her freeze up into an orgasm.
As soon as she recovered, I had her lie down on the grass and spread her legs out so that I could examine that mysterious hole of hers that I knew was not there before.
As I examined it, I heard Myra say, "I knew that you two would be coming to this phase of your of your sexual adventures with each other, so I cut open her hymen so that the two of you can enjoy the rest of her charms." I then realized just what it really was - her vagina. So I figured that if I could get my finger in it, why not try to get my dick in it also.
So I moved myself forward until I was sitting in-between her legs, and, from there, I managed to get my hard dick right up against that hole of hers all the while she just laid there, spread legged, smiling at me.
As I tried to insert my dick, I noticed that I could only get the head of it in before it stuck due to the dryness of her skin and my dick. But, about that time, I saw Amy's mother standing over me with a tube of something in her hand. "Here, try some of this for a lubricant. I think it will help your penis go in much nicer."
My Gads! Here, her mother was standing over me with suggestions on how to better fuck her daughter no less. So I smiled and took the tube from her, and applied some of the lubricant to my dick, and then I tried to insert my dick into her again.
This time, my dick went right on in real smoothly, so I continued shoving it on in until I had it all the way into her.
There I was! Feeling her pussy enveloping my whole dick just like some hot, tight, wet sheath that completely encased my whole hard dick.
I had heard about fucking from some of my friends, but I really didn't know just what they meant. But, as I looked at my dick and saw just where it was inside of Amy, I realized that was what I was actually doing right now - fucking this little girl!
Wow, my face must have lit up like a Christmas tree, and I also noticed that Amy had a great big smile of pleasure on her face also. So I moved my dick back out a little bit, noticing just how it was reappearing from her hole. Then, I pushed it back in, and what I saw just blew my mind as I realized just what I was actually doing to her, and, from the way she acted, I believed that she really wanted me to do it to her also. Heck, I even saw her mother standing there smiling at us.
Then, as I sat there moving my dick in and out of her, I realized that it looked so weird watching my dick disappear right into her over and over as I felt the most exquisite sexual feelings ever all over my dick, and that's when I realized that it was, without a doubt, the best thing that I had ever felt in my whole life.
As I kept on fucking, I noticed that with each push of my dick just how much my sexual excitement soared more and more. The more I did it, the faster I went until, all of a sudden I felt my climax hit me like a ton of brick, and that's when I gripped her legs real tightly just as I felt myself shoot load after load of my cum way up deep inside of her as I felt like I was now in pure erotic ecstasy.
After I was all done, I noticed that my dick didn't shrivel up so I very carefully laid down on top of Amy and started fucking her as fast as I could go while I felt her small arms and legs wrapped tightly around me.
In no time, I felt Amy grab me real tight as I felt muscles inside of her vagina contract against my dick for several seconds before she just collapsed. But because I was having so much fun, I just couldn't stop.Pretty soon, I felt her start to freeze up again, and the action of her vagina against my dick now made me climax again. But I just had to keep on going because it was just too much fun to stop. This all felt so wonderful that I just couldn't quit until I had climaxed into her for the fourth time, and I now felt myself starting to hurt down there, so I finally, but very reluctantly, had to give it up.
There I was, lying on top of Amy, panting as she still hugged me to her for a while until I felt my dick finally shrivel up and slip back out of her, and that's when I finally got off of her and stood back up.
Then I heard her mother say, "Wow, you two really went at it like a couple of rabbits there. Why, you two were making so much noise I thought that you were going to scare the neighbors. Did you enjoy that, dear?"
I looked at Amy, who was now standing next to me, hugging me with her arms as she moved her head up and down with a great big shy grin on her face as she replied, "Hm-hmm."
I then heard her mother say, "Oh my, Amy, we're going to have to get you cleaned up before you come over for refreshments. My, look at all of the semen flowing down your legs."
As I looked at Amy again, I could see this long trail of my cum flowing back out of her hole, and that's when it hit me again just what I had just done to this little girl.
As we sat at the table eating cookies and drinking milk, Myra told us even more about the facts of life.
She also mentioned, "I guess you wonder why I encouraged you two on like this to have all of those wonderful sexual experiences with each other? Yes, when you first came over to play with Amy, I noticed that you two looked so much like a couple – so innocent and so young, and yet so willing to explore. I also noticed you staring at her panties and how much Amy was willing to show them to you. Otherwise, she acts much more like a little lady when you aren't around her. Then I purchased the wading pool to see just what would happen."
"It was just like watching an erotic movie to watch you two gradually discover each other's sexuality, and to find out just how much fun it was to explore all the different ways to make each other have so much sexual fun."
"I also had a very pleasant sexual experience myself when I was a child. But when I saw how you and Amy played so well together, I decided to let my little Amy go ahead and have a wonderful sexual experience also. Why, yours was so much better than the one that I had. You two are just naturals together. With all of your exploring and touching, all I did was just help things along a little, and I got the greatest thrill out of watching you both enjoy each other's bodies each day, and how you two so enjoyed and explored each other's bodies in ways most children sadly never have the opportunity to ever experience."
"Why, you two even culminated your sexual experiences this afternoon by actually having sexual intercourse with each other. I knew by the size of your small penis that you would most probably fit into Amy very nicely. Why, I find it so thrilling just to watch you two young, innocent children having so much sexual fun exploring each other with all the joy and impudence that can only come from children. And I do hope that you two will continue on with your most exciting explorations for as long as you wish."
Wow, never in all of my wildest dreams did I ever think that anyone would actually bless me for having sex with their daughter. I had always been under the impression that I could get beaten to a pulp for even just thinking about it.
Yes, I did go next door as much as I could every afternoon, looking forward to even more wild sexual adventures with my one and only love – Amy. | null | null | Authors/Pussywillow/My new Neighbors 4.txt |
87,803 | Pussywillow | My Sister and I | Yeah, this is what happened to me way back in the early sixties when I, Mike, was thirteen and my sister, Diane, was eight – almost nine.
I guess that we were what you'd call a middle-class family, owning a house and a car. It seemed that Dad worked all the time, and Mom was always going to meetings and bazaars and things like that.
The house was set up so that my bedroom was at the end of the hall, and Diane's was next to mine, with our parents' bedroom across the hall from us.
My sister and I were probably just like so many other brothers and sisters as we liked each other, but then we squabbled and teased each other whenever the opportunity struck. But all in all, I guess that we got along pretty well together.
As far as sex goes, I was at the age when I was just beginning to notice girls, and my buddies and I were now talking more about girls than anything else as we passed around a whole lot of misinformation amongst us while trying to glean whatever information we could from older members of our families and acquaintances.
I had just learned how to masturbate almost a year ago, and was now really enjoying myself by being able to do it three times in a row every day, which eventually made me think about the possibility of actually involving a girl with my newfound pleasure.
Since I had seen my sister fleetingly naked from time to time, especially when we were younger, I did have a fairly rough idea about just what a girl looked like down there - just enough to make me all that more curious.
On this one particular day, I was in my room doing some homework when I decided to go get a snack from the kitchen. As I passed my sister's door on my way to the kitchen, I noticed that it was slightly open. Her door had a problem - it had to be completely closed or it would eventually open back up just a little.
That's when, out of idle curiosity, I decided to open it just a bit more and see what the heck she was doing in there that made her so quiet.
As I cracked open the door just enough to see in, I could see that she was lying down on the bed on her stomach, still clothed with that short dress of hers still on her. But then I saw that her panties were pulled down a bit, and one of her hands seemed to be down underneath her, around her crotch.
This got me real curious as to just what she was doing. As I quietly stood there watching her, I noticed that she had her head turned away from me, and I realized that was the reason that she didn't holler at me for peeking in her room. But I could detect a slight movement coming from her hand that was hidden underneath her though.
As I continued to watch, I noticed that she soon started to breathe real heavy, and then I noticed that her whole body seemed to freeze up a little for a moment before she then relaxed again.
So I decided it was time for me to head on towards the kitchen before she could catch me spying on her.
Later, as I was back in my room eating the cookies that I had just snitched, I got to thinking about just what I was watching Diane do. After a while, I realized from the way she was and from her actions that she was probably diddling herself.
That assertion also made me now realize that she really wasn't the sexless little girl that I had always believed her to be because I always thought that little girls like her never really had any real sexual feelings until after they got big enough to grow tits.
Of course, as the days continued to pass, I still continued to wank myself off as I started to think more and more about what it would be like to actually have a sexual adventure with one of Diane's cute girl friends. Or maybe even, heaven forbid, with Diane herself.
I then tried to picture in my mind Diane and myself both lying there naked on the bed with our hands in-between each other's legs, feeling each other up. It did seem kind of far out though, as I realized that it was by far the best fantasy that I ever had for wanking myself off with, while pretending that my hand was her small hand wrapped around my dick.
Although Mom had never really said so, I guess that I had always had the feeling or thought that somehow, it just wasn't really right to have sex with your own sister. But I guess that was what made my fantasy seem all that much more interesting – forbidden fruits.
I guess that it was several weeks later when I accidentally found myself again in about the same situation as I found myself in the first time I spied on my sister. Again, as I passed her room to go to the kitchen, I noticed, again, that she hadn't closed her door completely. So I again cracked it open just a bit more to find Diane lying in somewhat the same position as last time.
As I again watched her masturbate herself, I suddenly got a bright idea that seemed to kind of develop from my fantasies. So I said to myself, 'why not find out if she really would like to have me to do that for her,' maybe it might be just like what I had dreamed about.
I knew that I would most probably really enjoy it if I could get her to get me off. But I'd rather it would be more of a consensual experience rather than being just one-sided.
So I very boldly opened the door a little more and then quietly walked on into her room until I was standing right next to her. As I noticed that she still hadn't heard me come in, I very quietly asked, "Diane?..." and that's when I saw her suddenly jump and turn her head around to look quite fearfully at me as I continued, "Wouldn't it feel a whole lot better if I did that for you instead of you just laying there doing it all alone by yourself?"
I watched as she continued to look at me quite fearfully for a bit longer as she digested just what I had just asked before I saw her start to relax again as I continued, "I'll even let you do that to me also if you want to."
We both continued to look at each other for a bit more before I finally heard her reply, "Well, okay if you promise not to tell."
Oh wow, was I ecstatic! I actually got the answer that I was so hoping for, so I replied, "Oh don't worry about that, I won't."
I then went over and closed the door. When I looked back, I saw that she had rolled over on her back and was in the process of taking off her panties.
So I kicked off my shoes and laid down on the bed next to her with an arm underneath her head as she wrapped her arms around me while my other hand gravitated on down towards her crotch.
I then felt a wild sexual explosion go all through my whole body when I felt my own hand actually cover my own little sister's bald pussy, and that's when I realized that I had just experienced the sudden extreme sexual shock and excitement of actually putting my own hand right down against my own sister's bare pussy.
I had just given it a few rubs when I felt her hand softly grasp mine while I heard her very softly say, "Here, put your finger on me just like this," while I felt her hand guide my fingers to just where they were supposed to be.
As I tried to do just what she wanted me to do, I felt her correct me a couple of times before I felt her hand finally leave mine and wrap itself around my neck again. So I finally found myself, very excitedly, actually laying there masturbating my own sister just like in my dreams.
As I continued, I could feel her arms tighten around me as I felt her start gyrating herself around against my fingers while I thought to myself about this most awesome position that I found myself in while continuing to gleefully rub her pussy for her just like she wanted me to.
Soon, I felt her whole body just seem to freeze up for a bit before I felt her slowly relax again. After that, she then reached down and removed my hand.
But we still laid there for a bit longer, hugging each other before I saw her finally lift her head up and prop it against her hand with her elbow against the bed and ask with a big smile on her face, "Can I do that to you now?"
Wow! I just couldn't believe the position that I now found myself in as I just laid there and watched my sister get up on her knees and unbuckle my belt. Soon, as I very excitedly watched, she had my pants down and off of me.
Next, I saw her reach for my underpants, and as I very excitedly watched, she had actually slid them on down and off of me.
After I had wildly watched my own little sister strip me of all of my lower clothing, I was now laying there with my lower half completely naked as I watched her sit down on her knees and stare at my big hard-on that was standing straight up in the air just like a proud soldier.
Being only thirteen, I still hadn't grown very much hair around my dick yet, and as I was to find out later on after I grew up that the hard dick that I had right at that moment was quite a bit smaller than the one that I would be sporting after I had grown.
"Wow, I never knew that your thing could get that big!" I heard her say as I watched her hand then reach over and grasp my hard shaft.
Just the sexual shock of feeling her small hand grasped around my hard dick was almost enough to make me cum right then and there. So I quickly grabbed for anything that I could find to catch my cum in just as I felt my sexual feelings very quickly rise on up into that real awesome feeling that I was getting from my own little sister's small girlish hand being wrapped around my hard dick.I then very quickly pressed the cloth that I had in my hand against the end of my penis just as I felt myself well right up into the most fantastic climax that I had ever experienced, and I very excitedly watched as I could both see and feel myself shoot squirts of semen out into what I realized now were her panties while I felt her small hand still squeezing my penis.
Wow! The feelings I received were so great that I just laid there for a moment in a sexual stupor before I was finally able to gather my thoughts again as I heard her ask, "What is all of that stuff that came out of your thing?"
As I tried to pull my composure back together, I realized that I had just experienced without a doubt the best climax of my young life. So as soon as I could speak again, I replied, "It's my semen. I think it's the stuff that helps to make babies."
After she bombarded me with even more questions, I tried to answer as best as I could with my still very limited knowledge of sex when I finally asked, "Would you like to do that to me again?"
I heard her giggle, "Yes." So I positioned her hand back on to my still hard penis and showed her just how to move her hand back and forth on it.
Oh gosh, it felt so good to both watch and feel my own little sister masturbate me that I just laid there in a sexual stupor that I had never known before as I watched my own little sister very gigglingly move her small hand back and forth on my raging hard penis.
Oh gosh, the whole scene was so unbelievable that I just couldn't believe that I was actually both feeling and watching my own little sister actually masturbating me.
But suddenly I panicked as I realized that I was all too soon going to climax again and shoot my semen out all over everything. So I quickly said, "Diane, get that water glass off of your night stand and bring it here real quick."
I watched as she looked at me very quizzically for a moment until I said, "I need it to catch my semen in."
But then, like a good little girl, I heard her giggle as she let go of my hard penis and quickly went over and retrieved the water glass while I swung my legs off of the bed and then sat on the edge of it as I watched her bring the glass back.
After she sat down beside me, I showed her just how to place the water glass in front of my penis in order to catch my semen when I climaxed.
So I excitedly just sat there on the bed watching my little sister again, very gigglingly, moving her small hand back and forth on my hard penis once more as I just couldn't believe that this really was my own little sister doing this to me while I felt my sexual feelings start soaring wildly higher and higher until they got so great that I could feel myself feeling sexually higher than a kite just before I literally exploded my semen right out into the water glass that she held while hearing Diane still giggling.
Afterwards, it took me a while to gather my wits back before I could even move again when I heard Diane ask, "Is this the stuff that you called semen?"
"Yes."
"Why do you pee it out?"
"It's the stuff that's used to make babies with."
"How does that work?"
"I really don't know. All I know is that if I shoot this stuff up inside a girl, it might make her pregnant and have a baby."
At that point, I was now quite shocked as I watched her dip her finger into it and started playing around with the gooey sticky stuff. So I nonchalantly said, "Go on and taste it. It isn't pee so it won't harm you."
I then watched as she gigglingly lifted her finger towards her mouth as she looked at me, and then stuck her tongue out and tasted it. Then I watched as she now stuck her finger into her mouth and sucked what there was off of her finger and said, "Oooooo, it feels so naughty to me to taste my own brother's semen, and it really doesn't taste all that bad either."
I then watched as she dipped her finger back into the glass and gave it another taste as I heard her say, "Will you do that to me again now?"
I then reached for the bottom of her dress to move it up out of the way so that I could get my hand back onto her pussy again when I heard her say, "No no, I want to sit on your lap."
After I got her positioned on my lap, I felt her wrap her arms around me as I then moved her dress out of the way and put my hand back down on her pussy as I felt her snuggle up against me.
So I just sat there fingering her pussy for her just like she had shown me while I felt her just melt against me.
As I continued to hug her and rub her pussy, I realized just what an awesome position I was in of actually being able to do this to my own little sister no less, and I also realized that she had also insisted on being cuddled by me while I rubbed her pussy for her. I guess that it had to do with her wanting to be real intimate with me while I made her feel real good.
As I continued to rub, I realized that I now felt a very new and a very special closeness with my sister that I had never known before, and I now had the awesome feeling that it was now my special duty to make sure that I gave her that real special real good feeling that I thought was a girl's version of a boy's climax.
Soon, I felt her hug my neck tighter as I felt her start to gyrate around a little bit before I felt her whole body just seem to freeze up a little bit for several seconds and then relax again.
There I sat, still cuddling my little sister for what seemed like several more minutes before she finally lifted her head away from my neck and gave me several kisses all over my face before she said, "Oh thanks big brother for making me feel real real good. I really liked what we both did together."
She then got off of my lap and grabbed up her semen-filled panties and complained, "Oh! Just look at what you did to my panties. Now I'll have to get a fresh pair out of the drawer."
Since we both now felt pretty well satisfied from our most awesome little sexual adventure with each other, I then stood up and put my pants back on and went on back to my room to finish up my homework.
After that, I spent the longest time going over in my head just what Diane and I had done together in her room. Why I just couldn't believe that we were actually touching each other down there. But I believed that we both really liked what we did to each other though.
It was several days later when dad was at work and mom had to go to a meeting.
Just after mom left, Diane sidled up to me with a big grin on her face, and asked, "How would you like to do some more of what we did the other day?"
I just couldn't believe it – my own little sister no less. I guess that she actually got more fun out of what we did than I had imagined.
Of course I certainly wasn't going to say no, so we both hurried into her bedroom and closed and locked the door.
As we stood there grinning very sheepishly at each other, I asked, "Why don't we both just get undressed?"
I saw her smile at me as I watched her reach for the buttons on the back of her dress. So I quickly took off all of my clothes, and soon, we were actually standing there looking at each other completely naked.
I followed her as she laid down on the bed and I laid down next to her. A moment later, she had her arms wrapped around me with her head lying on my left arm while I had my right hand rubbing all around against her ultra smooth body for a moment before it finally gravitated right on down to her pussy.
Soon, I could feel her squeezing me very tightly while she spread her legs real wide open so that my fingers could rub her right on the front of her pussy.
Oh golly, I could even hear her make little squeaking noises while I felt her bottom move all around as I realized that she seemed to be really enjoying what I was doing to her. So it wasn't long before I felt her arms tighten around my neck as I heard her emit little squealing noises just as I felt her freeze up. I guess she must have been in that position for quite a few seconds before I then felt her seemingly relax back down into a lifeless heap.
I continued to cuddle her for a while before she then lifted herself up and gave me all sorts of little kisses all over my face as she said, "That's for making me feel so good big brother. Now I'm going to make you feel real good now."
I watched as she scooted herself down towards my hard penis and sat in-between my legs just before she grasped my hard penis with her hand and looked very smilingly at me.
As I watched her move her hand back and forth on my hard penis, I asked, "What are you going to use to catch my semen in?"
But, as she suddenly looked very quizzically at me, I said, "If you don't use something, you're going to get my semen all over us and the bed."
I then heard her reply, "Oh oh, I forgot the glass, and last time I had to wash my panties out in the bathroom so that mama wouldn't find out what we did."
So I replied, "Well, you better use something."
Then I heard her say, "Hey, I know! Why don't I use my mouth. I remembered it didn't taste too bad and you said it wasn't poisonous, so I guess I could swallow it and then nobody'll ever know."
Wow! I just couldn't believe my ears as I realized just what she had said, so I very excitedly replied, "Well okay, if you really want to that is."
I then watched as she got down and put her mouth down over the end of my hard penis.
Oh my gads! I just couldn't believe it! So I said, "Yeah, why don't you just go ahead and suck on the end of it just like that, and then when I do cum, you'll already have your mouth over it to catch my semen when I shoot it out."
I watched her grin at me just before she laid down in-between my legs and then put her mouth back down over my hard penis and smile at me while I watched her suck on it for a moment before she lifted her head back up and exclaimed, "Hey! You know this is fun. It makes me feel really real naughty to actually have my own big brother's 'thing that you go to the bathroom with' right inside my mouth.I then watched as she lowered her mouth back down over my hard dick and started sucking once more.
As I watched my little sister continue to suck on my dick, the whole thing seemed so awesome and mind-blowing to me that it took only just a few sucks on her part before I found myself literally exploding all of my cum right into her mouth, which was the most weird, awesome feeling that I had ever had.
Afterwards, as she raised her head back up, I was quite surprised that she had managed to swallow all of my cum. But as I saw her sitting there on her knees in-between my legs, I saw a great big smile grow on her face as I heard her say, "Wow, that was fun! Can I do it again?"
I excitedly replied, "Sure, go right ahead." So I watched as she lowered her mouth back down over my dick.
So I just laid there wallowing in all the fantastic feelings that she was giving me as I again felt my sexual feelings soar higher than a kite before I shot all of my cum right into her mouth again.
As I watched her sit back up in-between my legs, I heard her very giggly say, "Now that I did it to you, you have to do it to me now."
At that moment, as I saw her sitting there, I realized that her pussy was pretty well hidden from me from the way she sat, which made me realize that from all the sex that we had been having together, I really hadn't yet got a very good look at her pussy.
As I thought over just what she wanted me to do, I realized that for me to do that to her, I would have to put my mouth right down against the place that she went to the bathroom with. But doing this had never before ever entered my mind when I was fantasizing about fooling around with little girls, and I guess that it had never occurred to any of us boys either that we would ever be putting our mouths down against some girl's pussy or even have them suck on our dicks just like my little sister had just done to me.
As I looked at her still sitting there in-between my legs waiting for me to answer, I thought about what a sexually wild adventure it would be to maybe actually do that back to my sister. So I replied, "Okay, let's change places."
As I watched Diane lay down on her back and spread her legs way out for me, I quickly got myself positioned in-between her legs and looked.
Wow! Here I was for the very first time in my life, actually looking at a real honest-to-goodness girl's pussy that was now laid all out wide open for me to see.
As I stared, I saw her pair of plump pussy lips from where they started and then ended just before her anus. Then I saw what appeared to be a very tiny little clitoris-like thing sticking up from in-between her pussy lips.
I then took my fingers and very carefully rubbed them lightly all over her pussy lips before I spread them apart to see what was inside. I guess that I fully expected to find some sort of a hole for my dick to go into, but all that I found was just a very tiny thing that I perceived was her urethra.
Now that I had given her a more proper examination, I decided that it was now time for me to go ahead and do my duty.
As I lowered my mouth down against her pussy, I had a real funny feeling go all through me even as I tentatively actually kissed her right on her pussy lips.
As I did so, I felt her jerk and give out a little giggly squeal as I realized that what I had just done had really done me no harm other than send another jolt of sexual excitement all through me, so I put my lips back down against her plump pussy lips again.
It was funny; it seemed that the more I kissed her there on her pussy, the more I seemed to actually want to kiss her there, and I also very quickly realized that me having my mouth down against her pussy like that gave me a sexual thrill that was really quite unbelievable – just absolutely out of this world from the wild audacity of actually having my mouth right down there against her pussy.
As I kept on kissing, I could hear her gigglingly squeal as I felt her gyrate her little butt all around, and that got me to eventually get both my mouth and tongue in on the act, and I was soon having a real jolly good old time of it of both licking and slurping my mouth and tongue all over her pussy as I very excitedly heard her squealing with delight while I felt her little butt gyrate all around from all the sexual pleasure that I was giving her.
Soon, I felt her bouncing her bottom all around on the bed as I tried to hold her steady, and that's when I felt her whole body just seem to freeze right on up, and I swear that she must have held her bottom at least six inches of off the bed for quite a few seconds before she finally collapsed back down again.
I then felt her hands very feebly trying to push my head away from her pussy, but then, I held on because I certainly didn't want all of this wild sexual fun to end yet.
Soon I could hear her squealing with delight again as I very gleefully continued on licking and slurping all over her pussy.
By now, I found that what I was doing to Diane was so much fun that I just couldn't make myself quit.
Again, I heard her squeal as I felt her lift her bottom clear off of the bed again and just freeze there for several more seconds before she flopped back down again.
Again, I felt her very feebly try to push my head away, but by now, I was having too darn much fun licking her pussy for her to ever let her just push me away like that, so I kept on going.
But I did manage to make her freeze up for the third time before my tongue finally got so tired that I just had to quit.
As I rose back up on my knees and looked at her, she looked just as if she was asleep. So I crawled back up on the bed again and laid down beside her and cuddled her up to me.
At this point, I guess that we both felt pretty well sexually satisfied for the moment, so we just laid there all cuddled up together for a long while until I heard mom's car in the driveway.
I just listened to that noise for a moment before I panicked. So I grabbed my clothes and then rushed on into my own room to try to get dressed before mom could get inside the house.
I guess that Diane liked what we were doing to each other so much that we continued to have sexual adventures with each other whenever we could.
If nothing else, she just had me rub her pussy for her whenever mom wasn't looking.
A few months later when mom was out shopping, I had found a tube of lubricant in the medicine chest.
So, as we were again having fun playing with each other naked, I had her get up on my lap facing me while I sat on the edge of the bed and let her rub my hard dick up and down against her pussy just like we had done several times before.
Only this time, I rubbed a little of the lubricant on my dick, and as she rubbed my dick up against her pussy this time, wow, it felt really slick and good.
I guess that she liked the feel of it so much that she got carried away and was really moving my dick up and down against her pussy; humping herself against my dick when I heard her suddenly give out a little screech just as I felt the end of my dick suddenly go inside her.
I watched as she suddenly stopped and exclaimed, "OW! I hurt myself!"
But then as she held her position, I saw her look at me with a very surprised look on her face for a moment before I heard her say in a very naughty voice, "Oh oh, I think I can feel your dick inside me!"
I continued to watch as she kept that real surprised look on her face while I felt her slowly push herself on further and further onto my dick while I watched my dick gradually disappear on into her.
I was now soon really quite shocked to actually feel her sitting there right against me on my lap knowing full well that my dick was now completely buried all the way up inside of her.
It was then that I realized that I was feeling this most awesome feeling all over my dick from being inside her most awesome warm wet hole.
I then felt her wrap her arms around me while we both now very frantically moved my dick all around inside of her until I felt her freeze up just as I felt her pussy start contracting against my dick.
But by that time I was so hot that just the feeling her pussy contracting against my dick like that made my sexual feelings rise on up so high that I went and climaxed all of my cum right into her.
Then, as I felt her recover from her climax, we both realized just what had happened. So with the added slipperiness of my cum now being inside her new found hole, we now really went at it while feeling the most awesome and the most intimate contact of actually having both of our naked bodies joined together.
Oh my gosh! I never knew that anything could feel as good as that as I continued to feel my hard dick sliding all around inside of her pussy, and I guess that she really liked the feeling of it being in there also. So we both just sat there and wildly fucked each other as I ecstatically felt her freeze up on me several more times, making her vagina keep on contracting against my hard dick, before I finally shot all of my cum into her for the third time. But now as I started to feel very uncomfortable down there next to my balls, I knew that I just had to quit. So I guess that we both had a pretty darned good time of it of actually fucking each other.
Afterwards, we had to go into the bathroom to get ourselves cleaned up, and as I looked at my dick and then at her pussy, I noticed that we were both covered all over down there with what looked like blood-tinged cum.
As we cleaned ourselves up, I realized that I had actually broken through something that was covering her hole. It was then that I remembered some of the guys talking about breaking a girl's cherry. So I guess that was probably what I had just done to my own little sister.As she continued cleaning her pussy, I noticed that she was no longer bleeding down there, but she was having a heck of a time trying to get all of my cum back out of her hole, though.
Later on, we both talked quite a bit about what we had just done to each other. But I guess that she really liked what we had done so much that we now continue to fuck each other every chance that we can get. | m/g, Cons | null | Authors/Pussywillow/My Sister and I 4.txt |
87,865 | Apollo | The Downward Spiral | You may read this and think I'm some sort of monster or pervert. The truth is, I lost the ability to really make that call at some point, but I can't exactly put my finger on when exactly I lost it. I started out life in a very conservative family that lived in a very conservative neighborhood, which was in a very conservative town in a very conservative state. I was a geek growing up. Nowadays, people would argue that, but I was. I mean, you cannot be six feet and two inches tall and weigh just a hair over one hundred pounds without really being a geek, at least in other people's minds. The point of that is, I spent a good deal of time in my own world more or less as a kid, so that by the time I got to the Lord of the Flies type of experience high school in south Texas was, I still had an active imagination. Unfortunately for me, all romance was in my head. I was a virgin right up through most of my college years as I kept falling madly in love with women that were about as interested in me as they were in eating an excrement sandwich. So, Rosy Palm and I got on a pretty good relationship. I had decided, early in my masturbatory career, that if actual intercourse required lubrication (I read far too many encyclopedias, National Geographic, and PBS specials not to know the mechanics of intercourse), then flogging the Bishop should get lubrication as well, and I trusted Johnson and Johnson with keeping the old wedding tackle intact by using their baby oil to protect little Willy. Being as how skinny I was, I never ever thought of comparing the size of my twig and two bits. I just assumed they were smaller than normal. So, my life rolled on, church, home, school until I was 24 years of age. By then, I was beyond hopeless in finding "the one" and I bought a PC and got on the internet, I think subconsciously looking for "the one night stand" instead. Regardless of my unthinking reasons, I soon found myself getting propositions. Being as I am a man, they all intrigued me. Finally, as yet another "nice Christian girl" ripped out my heart and carelessly stopped its romantic beatings with a slender flat shoe, I took one.
Now this was around 1994, and, I'll be honest, I wasn't afraid she'd be ugly so much as I was afraid I'd end up the subject of one of those Discovery Channel specials on the unidentified and horribly mutilated remains that were discovered in a cranberry marsh near Boston. Boston's Logan Airport, by the way, was where she was going to pick me up. She had a picture of me so she could find me, but I was clueless on her, you can probably guess why. I should have written her name down, but I don't remember it now, so we'll just call her Donna. When I got to Boston, Donna had come with a friend, and I had high hopes the friend was Donna. It wasn't. Donna was heavy, not disgustingly so, but she looked as if she had fallen from the ugly tree and landed in the acne bush. I was only here for three days, so I figured I could suck it up and survive. We met Donna's gay friends. I had to check my tickets to make sure I hadn't been diverted to hell. Nope, just Boston. As we leave Boston, she informs me we'll be spending the three nights I'm in town at her parents'. Well, I guess it can get worse. Then it did.
"You're quiet," she said.
"Well, I'm nervous, I guess," I replied. Actually, I'm wondering if I can kick myself in the balls to remember what a bad idea flying to meet a complete stranger is.
"Well, let's talk." We had talked on the phone before this unmitigated disaster, so the conversation was easy enough to feign interest in. Now I have a problem. I came up here intending to end 24 years of being a virgin, and I wasn't about to do that now, but I was now overly horny. We got to her house late, and now I'm talking pretty easy, and I'm able to convince her that I'm not disgusted by her as she shows me her bedroom, at least I thought I was.
"Prove it," she says as her arms go around me. Ah, crap! I can tell by the way she's looking at me she wants a kiss. If I kiss her, she is going to get horny herself. Why, you ask? Well, because I'm a good kisser. I don't think that because anyone has told me I am; I'm saying it because I have never ever kissed a girl, but that she didn't all but drag my hand to her breast. I learned to kiss girls from all the girls I hung out with in high school. They didn't see me as a dateable man, so they'd answer my questions about sexual stuff honestly, and I learned from it. Now I have to kiss this unappealing young woman or live on the streets of gay Boston for three days. So I kissed her.
Part of my problem here is that I get lost in a kiss, and maybe that's why women enjoy it so much. I know a good number of my fellow men kiss with a goal clearly in mind. I kiss just because it feels good to do it. Why is that a problem? I'm glad I asked. It's a problem because I get aroused in the process, and if the woman I am kissing allows herself to get lost in said kiss, then she gives subtle physical signals that I pick up on and almost instinctively move forward in. It didn't take long before Donna was giving those subtle signals, pressing against me, stroking areas such as my ass, moaning quietly into my ear. My hands started moving on her as we kissed. I could lie here and say that I stripped her shirt off like a pro, but in the interests of not over-embellishing my sexual prowess, I managed to unbutton her blouse with an acceptable level of difficulty. Donna was built a bit widely, and this is what led to the illusion that she was near the gross side of being overweight - her loose-fitting blouse. As my hands roamed over her body, I could tell she was heavy but not what I would actually call fat. We continued the long, slow, deep kiss, and my hands roamed over her bra. My fingers sent the message to my brain that something was in-between the cups that felt more rigid than any stitch. A front hook! Now the higher functions of my brain were totally enslaved to the lower as I would be able to actually lay eyes and hands on the same pair of breasts at the same time. Since it was a front hook, getting the bra open would be far easier than had she had the rear-hooking type, which quite frankly still give me some headaches. Again, I was able to unfasten it with relative ease, although it's nothing as easy as you see in the movies or read in the books and stories. I pushed her blouse and bra from her shoulders, and my hands went back down to her breasts. Once again, I had stumbled onto a problem I had not anticipated. I hate to be crude, but to this day I can think of no other way to describe what I now held in my hands other than big, fat titties. I had to look, by this time we were near her bed, so I sat on it and looked up to see the globes of flesh on her chest. She had beautiful breasts. I mean it. They were nice and firm, really firm and huge. I think she had to be at least a DD cup. Maybe only a 36 or 38, but I don't have the illusions that some of the people who write erotic stories do. A woman with a 38 DD bra size is well-endowed, even if the amateur story writers, like myself, don't like to portray it as so. I couldn't help myself. I must have gone on kissing her and playing with her tits for at least a half-hour after that. I loved sucking on her big, fat titties. She was moaning and groaning and carrying on, and then she said something.
"What?" I asked, looking up from sucking on her left nipple.
"We should get some sleep," she said. But that meant taking away these nice titties! "You'll sleep in my room." She changed into her pajamas. My assessment was not off. Definitely plump, maybe heavy, but not fat. She pecked me on the lips and left me for a mostly sleepless night. I woke with the sunrise but wasn't about to leave her room. I heard her mother tell her she should go make sure I was still alive. When I heard that, all I could think was, TITTIES! She came in and smiled at me. "Hey, sleepy head," she said and came up to stand at the edge of the bed. I sat up and put my hands on her hips and smiled up at her. "How did you sleep?"
"All right," I lied. I had gotten about two hours of sleep. I slid my hands up, and there they were, unfettered, smooth, and warm. My god, I just lost it with her titties. It occurred to me how cruel it was that God put a pair of tits like this on this girl rather than a few of the better-looking ones back home. Again, we were a good long while with me sucking her breasts until finally, I left her room so she could shower and change. I ate breakfast with her mother. Can you say Uncomfortable? I sure as hell was. Her mother left, and we ended up hanging out and making small talk. I didn't press too hard at the objects that distracted me from the rustic setting and the conversation I was taking part in. Her dad came home and suggested we should rent a movie and watch it by ourselves that night. We rented two of the shittiest movies I can think of, Abraxxas and The Guyver. Now I'm sure some of my fellow former geeks will want to fry me for calling one or both of these two movies pure shit, but they were. She made the fold-out couch into her bed, and we lay down to watch these reels of excrement. Abraxxas was first, and I was faking sleep ten minutes into the movie, only to fall asleep ten minutes after that. I woke up, and I felt good. No, I felt great. My mind was slowly coming alert, and I realized I felt better than great, I felt like a fucking god. My brain alerted me that I should open my eyes because I felt way too good. I looked down, and Donna was busy quietly slurping on my stiff cock. My first blowjob! In her parents' house!!With her fine-ass sister due home any minute (I would have banged the sister blue were I allowed, but let's be honest rather than fictional, no woman is going to watch her sister sucking some stranger's cock and ask to join in or for a share of it all for herself)! I wasn't about to stop her, but I was really nervous. Now the arthritic Golden Retriever I have yet to mention plays into our story. Here she is sucking my cock with great eagerness, and I am worried how I will explain to her father what my cock is doing in his daughter's mouth. Suddenly, Rusty would walk slowly across the tiled kitchen floor, and I was afraid I might have to explain it to her mother instead. I would be damned if that dog didn't keep that up until I came in her mouth. Now, I want it noted for the record that I never ever asked for that. I know she didn't swallow because she got up tight-lipped and headed for the restroom where I heard brushing of teeth and gargling. She came back and laid her head near my somehow still mostly erect cock.
"I've never done that before," she said softly. I stroked her face and smiled. Looking back on it with a good deal of time and experience in getting blow jobs, I think more and more that was either complete bullshit or great instructions from her gay male friends. Either way, she stripped and lay beside me. I was supposed to fuck her now. I climbed in between her thighs and saw my first pussy in first person. Now, here's where brutal honesty comes in and gives me a full-body check. I know every guy out there talks about what an absolute stud he was from the first penetration. I don't believe it. I think that every guy, his first time, he was trying to sink his cock into a real pussy, stumbled on making penetration. This means you are rubbing the sensitive head on soft, smooth thigh flesh, then she gets too hot to wait on you and tries to guide it in while your hips are still searching, which means you are now fucking her hand as it grips your stiff member, and BAM! You've just ejaculated into her pubes or on her thighs. We all did it, ladies, if we admit it or not. The moment was too much, and we lost it. Don't hold it against us, but give us another chance. Needless to say, I was humiliated, because at the time I assumed it meant something was totally wrong with me. She was saying something to comfort me, but I knew she was going to tell her friends I was a premature ejaculator, and they would laugh at me. I had the next night to prove I wasn't a lame lover. We would be spending it with her female friend who lived with two gay men. Donna wasn't interested in fucking, but apparently, the two gay men were. Once again, I got no sleep, but this time it was from listening to two gay men fucking loudly and repeatedly. I left Boston early the next morning and said good-bye to Donna for what I thought was forever.
She sent me an email a little over a month later, telling me she had missed her period the previous month. She was claiming she could have gotten pregnant without any penetration. While I don't doubt it's possible, I wasn't about to do anything about it. I had no idea who she might have started blowing while they were asleep, and I told her as much. I feel kind of bad for taking that position now, but she wrote back the next week to say she had her courses again. So ended any Donna connection in my life, but it had opened the door to many changes I had never even imagined.
Chapter Two: First Steps
Life rocked along, considering Donna and the trip to New England had been my first true sexual encounter, everything was fairly unchanged. I still went online and chatted women up and down. Oddly, it seemed to me, I was far more popular with women online than in real life. Now I know more than a few people start to lose that distinction as they become more popular online than in real life, but I was careful to separate the two in my mind so I didn't lose perspective.
I had plans to meet with a very good friend who had gone to college in Colorado, and decided I would test the waters of Internet women again while I was up there. I had a nice time with a girl from Greeley, and on the last day, we got really close to sex, but her morals won out over lust, and when she asked me to stop, I did, even though I almost had her naked. I think now, if I had gotten her naked, she wouldn't have been so able to overcome the passion of the moment. Then again, I like taking my time during the heavy petting stage of working up to sex.
During this point in my life, I ran across an older woman online named Kathleen. At some point during chat room tomfoolery, something in her locked on to me. I can't recall all that happened to cause that change, but she and I started talking through instant messages more and more, and soon it changed to phone calls, and we chatted on the phone and online for probably six months. Kathleen was 15 years older than me and in what she considered a very unfulfilling marriage. She started dropping hints that she wanted to meet, and the calls went from conversation to phone sex, a bizarre and oddly erotic concept. I was just having fun, but it became clear that she was now on a mission.
"I have a job in Dallas in two weeks," her job was to go help the Mom and Pop stores go out of business and to make sure they tied up all the legal and financial loose ends as they did.
"Kate," she hated to be called by anything more than her full name, until we started with the phone sex. I enjoyed making her like something that repulsed her. "I can't trust my car to go the 400 miles from here to there. And to go that distance for one night... I can't."
"I'll buy you a seat on an airplane..." she finally got fed up with me, and we didn't speak for weeks. I thought she might be a little unbalanced after she worked so hard to get me there anyway, so I didn't give it much thought. After a few weeks, she popped back up again and wanted to call. She and I went on in the phone/online routine for another few months when she announced she was coming to Houston. She already had the tickets. I had no idea of what she looked like, only that she was 40 years old. I had to have a picture to know her by at the airport. She agreed, and a friend came to rescue me if she was nuts. She sent me the picture. She was not a supermodel, but she didn't look bad at all, but it was a headshot, and I was interested in seeing the whole package.
Now I have friends that balk at a gray hair on a woman and write her off, but in my family, there is a tendency to get gray early. I started getting the odd gray hair when I was sixteen, so the fact that Kate had a few gray hairs didn't phase me. She was a fit woman with simple tastes. I could tell that by the faded jeans and turtleneck blouse.
She was about five feet six inches and had an eager smile and a sultry voice. She had, as I recall, green eyes and probably weighed around one hundred and ten pounds. We made small talk with my backup and headed off to get her rental car and then get to her hotel. We chatted all the way to the car and to the hotel, and I carried her suitcase up for her. We checked out the hotel room and started chatting again. I found that from the time we met in the airport and hugged, I wanted to kiss her, and the urge had kept on growing, so as I moved one way and she another, I put my left hand on her neck, just below the hinge of her jaw. This got her to quiet and look up at me, and we finally kissed. It was a slow kiss, but it built up quickly, and I knew I wanted to get her naked and fuck her silly, so I broke the kiss and said she should take me to my parents' house so I could get my car. We did. To this day, I don't know why my instincts told me not to stay with her through the night, but I knew I wouldn't. We got my car, came back to the hotel, and started kissing again. This time there was no reason to stop. The kiss grew in intensity, and as the embrace and the moment became more heated, our teeth occasionally clashed. She was so hot that in ten minutes, I was undressing her. I love undressing women. I mentioned that Kate was forty, but I'll be damned if her body wasn't better than the few twenty-somethings I had seen. She had the shape and the proportions of a Playmate model, and I was amazed at the beautiful breasts she was able to conceal under her shirt, once I got her front-hooking bra off. I began to nuzzle and nibble her nipples and her neck, and she began moaning. I started kissing and nibbling her stomach and then her thighs and parked myself down to eat my first pussy. I was so horny at that point, I started tasting her tender folds without noting the string. She let me go for a while before she stopped me.
"You can't," she moaned as she tried to pull me away.
"Why not?" I wanted badly to eat a nice, hairy snatch.
"Because it's my time of the month." Now I noticed the string. We went back to kissing and fooling around, and she started undressing me. At the time, I passed it off as my need to build my confidence through others, but I don't think it is now. Her eyes lit up when she got my jeans off. I don't wear underwear with jeans. They are confining enough, but with underwear and a sudden case of arousal, they can be painful, besides underwear with denim seems like a padlock on a paddock gate to keep the cows from opening it. She put it in her mouth immediately.
Now I'm going to tear away from this to explain a bit about me. I had always considered everything about me to be totally average, this included penis size. I also never felt the urge to compare any part of myself to anyone else, especially not my penis. I kept my head down and avoided looking at any time possible. As I gained lovers and experience here and there, I learned I had a respectable-sized cock.Not one of the murderous sized ones you see in the dirty stories, but almost a full eight inches. Now, dirty story experts may scoff at this admission, but the facts are that the average penis size is no more than six inches. Simple anatomy tells you that some of the stories are just beyond reason. Once a cock gets to a certain size, it's dangerous to the human body. How can someone take a 13-inch cock down their throat without ripping out their vocal cords? Vaginal sex with a cock that size? It's more likely to rip or damage a woman's uterus and make her cock-hungry if she takes it all. And, my fellow men, try shoving a 13-inch tube up your anus and tell me it feels divine. All of this I know now, which is why I say I now know why her eyes lit up when my cock sprang free. I never asked her the question I had asked other women I had gone out with to try and boost my ego, but she boosted it all the same.
So we were naked and I moved to slide in, and my God, she was wet and she was tight. I slowly slipped my cock into her, and she moaned loudly. When I started to fuck her, her moans grew high-pitched, and she started slowly tossing her head, mussing her long black hair. She had a sweet little cunt. It wasn't too hirsute, but clear, and I moved so I could watch my cock sliding in and out of her wonderful cunt. I had forgotten why she stopped me from eating her pussy. She began to cry, literally cry, my name usually punctuated with breathless "Oh my sweet love"s. She was like moist velvet, and I was in heaven. The backs of her thighs were up over the tops of mine, and I was on my knees, burying my cock into her as she moaned and wailed until I came. Now I remember she was having her period, and as I pulled out from her, the evidence of it was smeared all over my cock, and it burned a little. I cleaned up and kissed her good night, and I left at around midnight. I thought it was for the best.
Little did I know the three days she was down would truly start a massive change in my life."I couldn't believe it was her taking and not me, but it was. We were both naked now and she stroked me a bit as she moved to kiss me. Our tongues wrestled a bit and my cock, which had only been starting to flag from erect, was stiff again. She smiled and climbed on. Getting herself in the right position, she sank onto my hard dick. This was only the second pussy I had ever managed to really invade, and as things went, I loved the feeling of a wet pussy around my cock. Now my only experience with sex prior to Kathleen and Suzanne had been porno movies, so I expected her to start moving up and down. She didn't. Rather, she started moving her hips back and forth and side to side, more or less undulating her pussy all around my cock but never getting it out of her. I loved it. Only about a minute into it, she came. She never fully stopped moving, but she stiffened and groaned and started moving harder on me. I think she came at least once more. By the time I was getting ready to spew, she was again growling, now nipping at my neck and jaw. I groaned.
"Oh God!" Hey, I was from East Texas stock, that's how we hicks say it. She crammed her cunt hard down on me and I started cumming. She let out this really high-pitched squeal and came again (this is how I know it was at least twice). We took a few minutes to catch our breath and then spooned to sleep. I woke up at one in the afternoon and got up to get dressed and woke her. "Your daughter's gonna be home soon. I'll talk to you later, Suz."
I never did, but then I also had Kathleen coming in a few weeks. She was hardheaded and independent. If I had the 'power' at all, she would be the one I'd have to prove it on.
Chapter Five: The Unconscious Choice
It's amazing the speed at which an idea you don't even know you have can turn into a plan you don't realize you have made. I had gone to her house, knowing what would happen. The new idea had formed independently in my head. I wanted to fuck Kathleen in the ass. I wanted a toy. The thought hit me just like that. I know it seems self-absorbed and more than a little unhinged. Normally, guys that thought of other human beings end up with all three of their names being announced on the news while they cover their heads. You know the headlines, "Serial Killer Caught" and all that. It's a classic case of a psychopath to not see people as being as real as they are. That's one of the reasons guys like Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer can be as brutal as they were. I wasn't thinking of anything brutal or even painful. As I drove home, the idea I had been gestating in the back of my mind suddenly slipped forward.
It would be easy, well, relatively easy.
The idea was simple. I had to find another job, out of Texas. It had to be out of Texas because I had a fairly large and close extended family. There is a strong resemblance with my brother, my sister, and myself - we all look fairly similar. Maybe Virginia, that seemed far enough away to allow me to live this out and see what happened. Virginia would work well, it was far removed from anyone that knew my family, and Kate lived there. She would be my start. I had already started to alter some of her behavior, and the question was how much more I could. I felt that because I was not too far removed from my sense of humanity, I would be able to alter it further to suit my needs. I wasn't thinking about making her walk naked on the street. No, what I was thinking of was far better than that. I would take a job and in my time start a stable of Girls. A perversion of the standard family. Kate would be my first, and I think I did feel some degree of anger for her, but that really was yet to take hold. The odd thing was I actually thought of it as a perversion, yet it did not hold the revulsion or distaste for me that most people have when they think of the word. I embraced the idea.
Kathleen called me that night. We chatted about this and that. She worked for a company that helped small mom and pop stores go out of business. This afforded her a good deal of travel without many questions from her husband, who did not seem too terribly interested regardless. She was hungry for my attentions and even more so for my cock. As I always had a tendency to do, I began to turn the conversation sexual. I was already naked and asked her to do as much. As we moved into phone sex, I began to talk. I rarely masturbated during phone sex and even during real sex had a propensity for vocalizing. As she panted and moaned into the phone, I started laying my plan into action, but oddly I had no script or clearly laid out plan - it was all instinct and happening pretty much without too much effort.
"I love the feel of your legs around me," I said. "The feel of your pussy." She moaned. "When you came down last time in that skirt and those stockings, I wanted to fuck you right there in the terminal in front of everyone."
She gasped and called out, "Oh my sweet love!"
"I wanted to rub your pussy in the car." Another gasp and a moan, she was getting close. "If you didn't wear panties, I could fuck you and touch you anytime I wanted." She cried out, her breath and voice caught in the ecstasy, and I grunted and groaned with her, simulating the sound of my own orgasm. Then I waited for her breathing to calm - I had to press my luck now. I could not allow her to fully come from the plateau she was currently on. As soon as she was nearly purring in my ear, I pressed the point. "I don't want you to wear panties anymore."
"What about my period?" She had received a barium enema for some reason in childhood, but the doctor had been all but a criminal, putting the enema in the wrong orifice and thus putting a hole in her uterus. Still, she had her monthly courses but assured me there was no need for a condom.
"You already use tampons. You don't have to have anything to attach them to." She made a brief sound of argument but did not agree or disagree. "The thought of knowing you are bare-assed under your skirt..." It was my turn to make a sound, an honest one, of hungered lust. "If you feel you have to have some pairs of panties, you should buy thongs or g-strings only, oh my god, seeing you in a thong." I made the noise again as the thought had literally just occurred to me.
"I may have woken Ted. I should go."
"Think about what I said, Kate. I'll see you in two weeks."
"I love you," she whispered almost silently. I smiled and hung up as if I had been making the motion before she made her declaration. Somehow her saying she loved me made it easier for me to go through this. We had agreed early on that this was not about love, and here she was changing it. Yes, she would do nicely.
I was smiling up at my ceiling when my phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey Ian." It was Julie. I had worked with Julie at Kroger. She was a sweet girl with a nice body, great eyes, and a smile I loved to see. Unfortunately, she picked a bad time to call. She had broken up with her boyfriend several months before and after a serious car crash that had removed the pinky from her right hand. She was a nurse now and had odd hours, but we had become fairly close friends over the last couple of months. She had wanted someone she felt comfortable with to do stuff with, and had picked me. She had assured me she wasn't looking for love, and I had set that as a boundary in my mind. The last few times we had gone to the movies, our casual flirting had become more intense, leading up to the space of the three weeks I had not heard from her. I was feeling lustful now and wanted to call up the night she had felt a change in our relationship.
We had gone out for burgers and a movie and arrived back at my parents' house. Over the last few weeks, our conversation frequently turned to talk of sex while we drove. This night, I laid down a challenge to her.
"So, do you really think you kiss that well?" She asked me.
"It's not really a matter of think, Jules. It's always happened that way. I mean, when other guys were talking to guys about how to kiss, I was making friends with the girls - I figured they were a better source of information."
"So how do you do it?" She leaned on the beige sofa, one hand on her cheek.
"You want me to tell you?" She nodded. "It's not that easy. There's no set patterns or sequences of events that make a perfect kiss. It's attitude and paying attention to the person you are kissing."
"Well, that makes it easy to not be able to dispute." She grinned. "You mean I just have to take your word for it."
"I could show you, but you are prepared, so it might not take your breath away as much. But I also don't want to jeopardize losing my friend."
"We'll be friends no matter what, ok?" She put her hand out for me to shake, and I took it in mine and held it there. "But I have to be able to prove it."
"Agreed." I still had her hand, in a handshake grasp, in mine. It wasn't hard for me to look at her with hunger. I had been attracted to her before she and Charles broke up. She had soft, though small, and inviting lips and blue eyes that were soft like the spring sky after a good rain. I slowly rubbed my thumb on the back of her hand. I looked into her eyes for three minutes at least, and I saw her swallow. She was feeling it.
"When do you start?" She tried to mask the husky tones in her voice, but I heard them. I moved my left hand to cup her right cheek and slowly leaned towards her.
"Who says I haven't?" My voice was equally thick with lust just before I brushed her lips with my own. I kissed her softly and gently until I felt them part. My key to a great kiss is in restraint.You have to be aware of the subtle hints of readiness your partner will give you. I mean a woman's neck is a highly erogenous area and should always be high on a man's hit list, but you can't go stampeding for "the goodies." If you do that, you break the magic and kill the moment. So my rule is I use my tongue when I feel the tips of hers. I don't go grabbing breasts until she is obviously feeling me up, and even then I wait, keeping my hands on her face and neck. Kissing her lips, cheeks, eyes, and neck, always only stepping up or responding to her own natural reactions. Some people might say I'm dispassionate, but I doubted Julie felt that way. It's not that I didn't want to just shove my hands under her blouse and my tongue down her throat, but there was a time for that. I had to hold off until it was what she wanted, and that was never too long from when we started, so waiting was not a problem. I kissed the soft and tasty flesh of her neck, moaning as she pressed against me. She wanted me to touch her somewhere else. Instead, I pulled her over onto my lap, straddling me. She was wearing jeans and so was I, but I knew she could feel my rock-hard prick, and she pulled my mouth to hers and her tongue invaded my mouth. I started untucking her blouse. I fumbled a bit on the buttons of the garment, but it didn't take long for it to fall open. I slid my hands up her smooth, soft belly. Only the scars from her emergency surgery marred her chest and stomach, and I didn't mind them in the least. My hands slid over the satiny feeling material of her bra. The curves of her breasts were soft and warm, and I wanted to suckle on her nipples. My thumb slid into the valley between the twin globes of flesh and discovered she had a front-hooking bra. I thanked God for small favors and undid the clasp. My hands moved down and then back up over her great breasts. I, like most men, did enjoy gargantuan breasts, but Julie's didn't fall in that category. Yet, in my mind, they were perfect. They fit in my hands and were firm and soft and smooth. I was sucking her erect nipple before she spoke to me again.
"If we don't stop now," her voice was husky with arousal and what I thought was heavy regret at what she was saying, "your parents are going to find us in a bad situation." She was right. I helped her get herself covered and walked her to her car, and we shared a very brief kiss goodnight.
Since then, she had avoided calling me. I had been sidetracked from calling her and should have felt bad, but... now she was calling me. A part of me wishes she had called me in the morning, and the two of us might have lived a nice, quiet "normal" life, as I do love her greatly. Yet she had not waited, and now my runaway mind had made another decision.
Julie was going to be my queen.
Chapter Six: Realization!
I never really laid any of it out. I just sort of knew it. The plan was laid in place without me really laying it out. I felt some nervousness, although at the time I had no idea why I did. Looking back, I now know it was about the plan falling apart. It only took one "no," a logical assumption with what I was considering, and the whole thing fell to shards.
Julie had called me to say she wanted to talk. We made a date for a few days later. Kathleen called the next night, and I made more subtle (it wasn't that hard to be more subtle than I had been about the panties) hints about changes to her wardrobe. Again, I really wasn't aware I was making them, so that made it a bit easier to be subtle about the suggestions.
Things like leather skirts, tight-fitting and revealing blouses - the things I think most men wish women would wear more of, but most women don't like wearing because men pay more attention to their assets. The suggestions came out while we were having phone sex, and I wasn't paying attention to what I was saying until I heard myself say something. "I wanna see my name tattooed on you." She moaned, and we continued on, but now my mind was turning hard on where that statement had come from.
I didn't sleep much that night and spent the next day in a fog. I could not place, yet, where that statement had come from. I usually said bizarre things if I was up late, but this was far more than my weary mind not checking what I was saying. There were images that went with the statement. There was an idea that followed along with the statement. The tattoo was a start, and just like all the rest of what had led me to this turning point, it was in my mind but had stayed just beyond the range of my waking brain.
At least until now.
Sure, I know that you are thinking that I had made a conscious decision to move to Virginia, but that part of it was me dreaming of bettering my life. Well, that's at least what I had told myself. Now I was standing in my Circuit City brown blazer, making polite salesman conversation with my customers, but I was unaware of them or my responses. I got my break and headed back to the break room, still trying to dig up what had brought on the idea of the tattoo. Eddie, one of the sales people in SOHO (small office/home office, or the computer department) was talking to me about a tech support company he was taking a job with and telling me how I ought to, since I knew more about PCs than he and a few others in that department, and selling small electronics was getting me nowhere fast. I agreed that I should, almost reflexively, and since tomorrow was a day off for me and I was not going to meet with Jules until around 6 in the evening, I did, but that comes later in my story.
As the day wore on into the evening, I still couldn't stop thinking about the tattoo comment. As I thought more and more about it, the images changed from little flashes and snippets to a full-on mental picture show...
It was a nice home, not the sort one usually associated with a first home, but it was mine. Kate came wearing only a pair of miniscule thong panties. My name was clearly tattooed on her right ass cheek. I had called for her, and sitting next to me was a beautiful German Shepherd.
Kate gave a hint of a smile, and I saw her nipples hardening.
"Off with them," I said calmly. Kathleen slowly stripped off her panties, and I sent the dog from the room. I closed the gate separating him from us, and I closed the distance to Kate. "I can't keep you here forever," I said as my left hand slipped between her legs and my right stroked her cheek. She nodded, and she widened her stance to allow me to stroke her sex. "Do you love him?" I asked as my fingers slid along the quickly swelling lips of her pussy.
"He's a good friend and treats me well," she replied with a gasp following as a finger slid between her swelling lips. I leaned in closely to whisper in her ear.
"You'll always belong to me, Kate." She put a hand on my shoulder and moaned as my index finger slid up into her. "You are free to marry him, but you'll always be mine." I couldn't fathom claiming ownership of another human being, at least not yet. We stayed like that until I could feel the pleasure making it too hard for her to remain standing, and then I guided her onto the couch and spread her knees further. I leaned down and ran my tongue along her labia, which were engorged and therefore spread a bit, allowing me to attack her clitoris. I tongued and sucked her through two orgasms. It was time for the real show. I stood and went over to the gate keeping the dog out. I stripped down and took my seat as the dog entered the room. The smell of Kate's sex filled the room, and the dog could smell it better than I could. "Present yourself." She moved off the couch and stood before me, slowly moving to her knees, resting her arms on my bare thighs. The dog began to sniff around her sex, and I heard her moan and knew the dog was tasting her. As she leaned forward and took my cock in her mouth, he mounted her. She cried out as she always did when the dog buried his long, pointed cock into the warm, clasping invitation of her pussy. She always made a real effort to keep sucking my dick, but I did rather enjoy watching her fuck the dog with the enthusiasm she had taken to it with after the first time. It only took a few strokes of the dog's cock into her slick pussy before she was going back after him, stroke for stroke. She was moaning and panting and stroking my cock as best she could, stopping her hand to lick my cock as well as her hand to prevent from rubbing me raw. She stopped, tensed, and screamed out as a massive orgasm washed over her. The dog still had a bit more in him. He didn't go at it for too long, but with the speed and intensity with which he thrusted into her, it didn't take long. I knew he hit her another one out of the park quickly. She started to growl and thrust back into the dog again. She looked up into my face.
"Yours," she moaned, and another orgasm struck her. In very short order, I heard her moan and knew she was getting a belly full of hot doggie spunk. I also knew the dog had tied to her. Suddenly, she leaned forward and engulfed my cock with her mouth. Her head moved up and down on my rigid shaft. Her tongue rubbed under the head of my cock a few times, and then she started grazing her teeth lightly over the head of my cock and along the shaft. I knew at that moment that she was mine. She would make a good partner for her new man, but she belonged to me, and if I called, she would come. She would come to me, just the same as I was now filling her mouth with my own ejaculate.
"You have to tell him," I told her as she dressed to go to him. "He has to know the truth..."
I woke up, and the dream was still just as fresh and vivid as if it had actually happened.
I knew what I was thinking about now.
I couldn't claim ignorance, not anymore. I knew I was going to try to bring Julie into this because I wanted her to be with me long-term.Kate was only temporary, but I was going to treat her poorly, and I did feel bad about that, but not bad enough to avoid it. I was acting on a plan that I had not been aware I had, and now that I was faced with it, I didn't feel the need to run back. | null | Chapter one: It Begins | Authors/Apollo/The_Downward_Spiral.txt |
87,910 | null | Soccer Daddy | Yeah! Our eighth-grade soccer team kicked butt today, our first win all season, and even better because it was over those snotty west-side bitches! Me and Lizzie (my BFF!!!) hugged each other and jumped up and down like crazy, but damn! Her big ol' titties bounced up and whacked me in the face; we laughed our asses off! Some of us call her "Tits" because they're definitely the biggest in the class. And her so skinny and all!
Then stupid Mandy tried to act all cool and dumped the f-ing Gatorade thing on us. She was trying to get Mrs. B., the coach, but instead poured it all over Liz and me. Gross! We were all sticky and decided, after we loaded our gear on the bus, to go back out to the bathrooms at the far edge of the field to try and wash up. That stupid bus driver must've been asleep or something, 'cause by the time before we even got to the bathrooms on the other side of the field, they drove away without us!
"What the fuck, Tits?" I said. It was fucked up. I was lucky I had my letter jacket on, but all she had was her shorts and tank tee, still wet with that Gatorade. All her other junk was on the bus! She didn't even have a bra since it kinda bugged her sometimes, especially after playing, and she took it off right after the game. She says it digs into her boobs, which she always complains about. Yeah right! Like all the rest of us didn't want boobs like hers!
It was starting to get cold, and we were freezing. Those nipples of hers were all poking out and stuff, and I told her so, just to mess with her, but she didn't want to hear it and was just all p.o.'ed and cold.
Anyways, I had my phone with me. I finally got it a few weeks ago after bugging Daddy for like forever. He always feels guilty 'cause of the divorce and all, so he finally gave in, like he always does. I called Mom to get her to pick us up, but she had some dumb ladies' meeting again! She could pick me up, but there was no way she had the time to drive Lizzie all the way on the other side of town. Her parents are divorced too and don't really give a crap about her anyways, so I had to call Daddy to see if he could give Lizzie a ride. It was my night to stay with Mom, so he was kinda p.o.'ed about it, but said he'd do it. Like he wouldn't do what I say, he always does.
It was getting dark and cold and windy, so we like froze our asses off while we waited. Mom finally showed up and was about to let Lizzie in too, just to warm up, but Daddy pulled up too, so he went with her. I told her I'd call her later, and we drove off. I waved to her as she jumped in Daddy's old beat-up car."Take off your shirt," I said. As she pulled the damp tee off over her head, I saw her underarms were unshaved, a little soft downy dark hair glistening. Fuck, I love that! As a bonus, I could better smell her sweet young sweat mixed with cheap perfume.
"Now," I said, "lay your head down on my knees." She didn't move, so I used my pre-come-y hand to guide her head, my fingers entwined in her pretty hair. Gently, I pulled her down so Liz was laying across the seat, knees bent and the side of her face next to my dick. Again, she didn't resist. What a sight! Looking down, I saw a sweet innocent little girl face in my lap, my balls touching her chin and the sexiest pair of tits I think I've ever seen on a female of any age.
My left hand jacked my cock while my right rubbed and squeezed her fine and huge bosoms. The nipples were still hard and slightly sticky from the Gatorade and, now, getting sticky with my pre-come covered fingers. I rubbed the shaft of my cock across her pretty twelve-year-old face, little chin to soft wet lips to tip of pert nose. Liz moved her head a little in response, rubbing back.
"Hold your big tits for me, Lizzie," I said. She spread her tiny fingers around her boobs, barely covering them, nipples poking out between her knuckles. I reached to touch her soft belly that had just a little bit of baby fat. Besides her wonderful tits, this little girl had fat nowhere else. It was a little difficult to maneuver in my position, but I managed to put the wet tip of my dick to her sweet lips.
"Take me in your mouth," I said.
She opened and wrapped my dick with her sweet twelve-year-old lips. I could feel her tongue against my cock tip. She held me there, not moving. "Liz," I said. She looked up into my eyes. "Play with your beautiful big tits for me." She squeezed and rubbed them. The sight of this little girl with my dick in her mouth and her hands playing with her own tits just about made me shoot.
"Now suck me." She sucked like a baby nursing. "No, Liz, suck my dick in and out of your mouth." It took a few seconds, but she finally got the hang of it, moving her head, giving her best friend's daddy the best blowjob he'd ever gotten. "Oh god you little--." I stopped myself from calling her a little slut, though I love dirty talk. "Oh Jesus Lizzie, suck my cock! Make my dick come in your sweet mouth!"
As this little girl sucked my dick, as she played with her fine titties, I moved my right hand down her belly and under her soccer shorts. Her panties were damp. I worked my fingers under them and played with her soft twelve-year-old pussy lips, also covered with a downy fuzz. My left hand held her hair while I fucked her little mouth.
"Oh shit Liz, you little bitch, here it comes! I'm gonna come in your mouth! Eat it, Liz! Eat my come!"
As I spoke, my burning load erupted in her wet young mouth. I yanked my hand out of her little panties and, as I spurted hot cream, pulled my pulsating dick out of her come-filled mouth and jerked the rest of my load in her sweet and beautiful twelve-year-old face.
My big balls bounced against her sperm-coated lips as I shot the biggest load I'd let loose in years. My hot runny come was all over her forehead and in her curly hair. It was dripping off her little nose and streaked across her pretty cheeks. Best of all, my come was on Liz' eyes, big droplets hanging on her long eyelashes and clung to her eyelids. The little bitch even tried to keep them open, looking at me through sperm-covered lashes! I held her head and rubbed my throbbing cock all over her face, smearing this little girl's cheeks, chin, nose, eyes and forehead with slick wet come.
"Open up, Liz," I said as I guided my dick back into her wet little mouth. The come was gone! Liz had swallowed the first load I shot between her girlish lips! Without prompting, this pre-teen girl started sucking on me again, keeping me just as hard as I was before I unloaded sperm all over her pretty little face. Her cheeks pulsed as she sucked. They glistened in the lamplight. She was still playing with her titties.
Finally, I pulled out of her mouth and told her, "Liz, rub my dick all over your pretty face for me." Without hesitation, she did as she was told, moving her head around in order to smear my come over every inch of her young face.
A few minutes passed before I realized where I was and what just happened. I was sitting in a car in some neighborhood I didn't know with a twelve-year-old girl--my little daughter's best friend--this twelve-year-old girl's head in my lap and I had made her blow me. Truth to tell, I was still so hard and so turned on, I think I could've unloaded another wet glob of sperm on her if I'd the time.
I made her sit up and regretfully told her to put her shirt back on. Those damn nipples were still hard. And as she reached a hand to her face, I grabbed her wrist. I couldn't resist lying to her.
"You know, Liz, a man's come is good for your complexion. Let it dry on your face."
"Okay," she said. That was the first damn thing she'd said to me since she grunted hello! Just as she spoke, car lights swung into view up ahead. Oh Jesus, I thought, I'm a dead man. I pulled up my pants, whipped off the flannel shirt I was wearing and made her put it on. There was barely enough time before the car pulled alongside. I had no choice but to roll down the window, wondering just what the fuck I was going to do. I lamely tried to block the view of the old guy in the other car, but I knew it wouldn't work. My throat tightened.
"Hi, Mr. Johnson!" Lizzie was looking over my shoulder and greeted the guy as sweet and friendly as you could imagine. I was stunned. She was smiling gaily. "Who's that? Oh, hi there Lizzie," the old man replied.
"Mr. Reed is giving me a ride home, but we got lost and we're trying to figure out which way to go and stuff!" she chirped.
"Oh hmm, Oh! you're Lyssa's pop, eh? A nice young lady! Well, it's easy to get turned around over here if you don't know the way. So few signs and precious little streetlights too. Okay, take your next right, then the next two lefts and you're there."
I nodded, smiling dumbly in shock and thanked him as the old man waved and drove off. Glancing at the little girl peering over my shoulder, I remembered her face was still damp with my sperm.
A couple of minutes later, quiet and expressionless as before, Lizzie got out of the car. Before she shut the door, though, she bent over and leaned back in. In a daze as I was, I couldn't help but look down her shirt at that amazing twelve-year-old cleavage.
My daughter's best friend, this little girl who had just sucked me off, whose face was drying with my come, whose hard nipples I could still taste and whose twelve-year-old pussy I had played with gave me a little reluctant smile.
"I won't tell anyone if you don't."
Lyssa's story:
WTF? I keep calling Tits, but she won't answer. Dumb little bitch. Just kidding! I'll just see her tomorrow in first period, I guess. Hope my dad wasn't a jerk to her or anything. | null | null | Authors/negative/underage/soccer daddy.txt |
88,087 | Jack Spratt | 2013 Darwin Awards | Yes, it's that magical time of year again when the Darwin Awards are bestowed.
Here is the glorious winner:
1. When his .38 caliber revolver failed to fire at his intended victim during a hold-up in Long Beach, California, would-be robber James Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder. He peered down the barrel and tried the trigger again. This time it worked.
And now, the honorable mentions:
2. The chef at a hotel in Switzerland lost a finger in a meat cutting machine, and after a little shopping around, submitted a claim to his insurance company. The company, suspecting negligence, sent out one of its men to have a look for himself. He tried the machine and he also lost a finger. The chef's claim was approved.
3. A man who shoveled snow for an hour to clear a space for his car during a blizzard in Chicago returned with his vehicle to find a woman had taken the space. Understandably, he shot her.
4. After stopping for drinks at an illegal bar, a Zimbabwean bus driver found that the 20 mental patients he was supposed to be transporting from Harare to Bulawayo had escaped. Not wanting to admit his incompetence, the driver went to a nearby bus stop and offered everyone waiting there a free ride. He then delivered the passengers to the mental hospital, telling the staff that the patients were very excitable and prone to bizarre fantasies. The deception wasn't discovered for 3 days.
5. An American teenager was in the hospital recovering from serious head wounds received from an oncoming train. When asked how he received the injuries, the lad told police that he was simply trying to see how close he could get his head to a moving train before he was hit.
6. A man walked into a Louisiana Circle-K, put a $20 bill on the counter, and asked for change. When the clerk opened the cash drawer, the man pulled a gun and asked for all the cash in the register, which the clerk promptly provided. The man took the cash from the clerk and fled, leaving the $20 bill on the counter. The total amount of cash he got from the drawer was $15. (Question: If someone points a gun at you and gives you money, is a crime committed?)
7. Seems an Arkansas guy wanted some beer pretty badly. He decided that he'd just throw a cinder block through a liquor store window, grab some booze, and run. So he lifted the cinder block and heaved it over his head at the window. The cinder block bounced back and hit the would-be thief on the head, knocking him unconscious. The liquor store window was made of Plexiglas. The whole event was caught on videotape.
8. As a female shopper left a New York convenience store, a man grabbed her purse and ran. The clerk called security immediately, and the woman was able to give them a detailed description of the snatcher. Within minutes, the police apprehended the snatcher. They put him in the car and drove back to the store. The thief was then taken out of the car and told to stand there for a positive ID. To which he replied, "Yes, officer, that's her. That's the lady I stole the purse from."
9. The Ann Arbor News crime column reported that a man walked into a Burger King in Ypsilanti, Michigan at 5 A.M., flashed a gun, and demanded cash. The clerk turned him down because he said he couldn't open the cash register without a food order. When the man ordered onion rings, the clerk said they weren't available for breakfast. The frustrated gunman walked away.
10. When a man attempted to siphon gasoline from a motor home parked on a Seattle street by sucking on a hose, he got much more than he bargained for. Police arrived at the scene to find a very sick man curled up next to a motor home near spilled sewage. A police spokesman said that the man admitted to trying to steal gasoline, but he plugged his siphon hose into the motor home's sewage tank by mistake. The owner of the vehicle declined to press charges, saying that it was the best laugh he'd ever had and the perp had been punished enough! | null | null | Authors/Jack_Spratt/Jokes and Giggles/2013 Darwin Awards.txt |
88,154 | Jack Spratt | THE BACK NINE AGAIN | You know, time has a way of moving quickly and catching you unaware of the passing years. It seems just yesterday that I was young, just married and embarking on my new life with my mate. Yet in a way, it seems like eons ago, and I wonder where all the years went. I know that I lived them all. I have glimpses of how it was back then and of all my hopes and dreams.
But, here it is... the back nine of my life, and it catches me by surprise. How did I get here so fast? Where did the years go, and where did my youth go?
I remember well seeing older people through the years and thinking that those older people were years away from me and that I was only on the first hole and the back nine was so far off that I could not fathom it or imagine fully what it would be like.
But, here it is... my friends are retired and getting gray... they move slower, and I see an older person now. Some are in better and some worse shape than me... but, I see the great change... Not like the ones that I remember who were young and vibrant... but, like me, their age is beginning to show, and we are now those older folks that we used to see and never thought we'd become.
Each day now, I find that just getting a shower is a real target for the day! And taking a nap is not a treat anymore... it's mandatory! Because if I don't on my own free will... I just fall asleep where I sit!
And so... now I enter into this new season of my life unprepared for all the aches and pains and the loss of strength and ability to go and do things that I wish I had done but never did!! But, at least I know, that though I'm on the back nine, and I'm not sure how long it will last... this I know, that when it's over on this earth... it's over. A new adventure will begin! Yes, I have regrets. There are things I wish I hadn't done... things I should have done, but indeed, there are many things I'm happy to have done. It's all in a lifetime.
So, if you're not on the back nine yet... let me remind you, that it will be here faster than you think. So, whatever you would like to accomplish in your life, please do it quickly! Don't put things off too long!! Life goes by quickly. So, do what you can today, as you can never be sure whether you're on the back nine or not!
You have no promise that you will see all the seasons of your life... so, live for today and say all the things that you want your loved ones to remember... and hope that they appreciate and love you for all the things that you have done for them in all the years past!!
"Life" is a gift to you. The way you live your life is your gift to those who come after. Make it a fantastic one. LIVE IT WELL! ENJOY TODAY! DO SOMETHING FUN! BE HAPPY! HAVE A GREAT DAY Remember "It is health that is real wealth and not pieces of gold and silver. LIVE HAPPY IN 2014!
LASTLY, CONSIDER THIS: ~Your kids are becoming you...... but your grandchildren are perfect! ~Going out is good.. Coming home is better! ~You forget names.... But it's OK because some people forgot they even knew you!!! ~You realize you're never going to be really good at anything like golf. ~The things you used to care to do, you aren't as interested in anymore, but you really do care that you aren't as interested. ~You sleep better on a lounge chair with the TV 'ON' than in bed. It's called "pre-sleep". ~You miss the days when everything worked with just an "ON" and "OFF" switch.. ~You tend to use more 4 letter words ... "what?"..."when?"... ??? ~You notice everything they sell in stores is "sleeveless"?!!! ~What used to be freckles are now liver spots. ~Everybody whispers.
~~~But Old is good in some things: Old Songs, Old movies, and best of all, OLD FRIENDS!!
Stay well, "OLD FRIEND!" Send this on to other "Old Friends!" and let them laugh in AGREEMENT!!! It's Not What You Gather, But What You Scatter That Tells What Kind Of Life You Have Lived.
TODAY IS THE OLDEST YOU'VE EVER BEEN, YET THE YOUNGEST YOU'LL EVER BE, SO ENJOY THIS DAY WHILE IT LASTS. | null | null | Authors/Jack_Spratt/Jokes and Giggles/THE BACK NINE AGAIN.txt |
88,255 | null | IDIOT SIGHTINGS | Yes, they do walk among us...and some even procreate!
IDIOT SIGHTING: I handed the teller at my bank a withdrawal slip for $400 and said, "May I have large bills, please."
She looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, sir, all the bills are the same size."
IDIOT SIGHTING: When my husband and I arrived at an automobile dealership to pick up our car, we were told the keys had been locked in it. We went to the service department and found a mechanic working feverishly to unlock the driver's side door. As I watched from the passenger side, I instinctively tried the door handle and discovered that it was unlocked. "Hey," I announced to the technician, "it's open!"
His reply: "I know. I already got that side."
This was at the Ford dealership in Canton, MS.
IDIOT SIGHTING: We had to have the garage door repaired. The Sears repairman told us that one of our problems was that we did not have a "large" enough motor on the opener.
I thought for a minute and said that we had the largest one Sears made at that time, a 1/2 horsepower.
He shook his head and said, "Lady, you need a 1/4 horsepower." I responded that 1/2 was larger than 1/4. He said, "NO, it's not. Four is larger than two."
We haven't used Sears repair since.
IDIOT SIGHTING: My daughter and I went through the McDonald's take-out window, and I gave the clerk a $5 bill. Our total was $4.25, so I also handed her a quarter.
She said, "You gave me too much money."
I said, "Yes, I know, but this way you can just give me a dollar bill back."
She sighed and went to get the manager, who asked me to repeat my request. I did so, and he handed me back the quarter and said, "We're sorry, but we could not do that kind of thing."
The clerk then proceeded to give me back $1 and 75 cents in change. Do not confuse the clerks at McDonald's.
IDIOT SIGHTING IN FOOD SERVICE: My daughter went to a local Taco Bell and ordered a taco. She asked the person behind the counter for "minimal lettuce."
He said he was sorry, but they only had iceberg lettuce.
From Kansas City.
IDIOT SIGHTING: I was at the airport, checking in at the gate when an airport employee asked, "Has anyone put anything in your baggage without your knowledge?"
To which I replied, "If it was without my knowledge, how would I know?"
He smiled knowingly and nodded, "That's why we ask."
This happened in Birmingham, AL.
IDIOT SIGHTING: The stoplight on the corner buzzes when it's safe to cross the street. I was crossing with an intellectually challenged coworker of mine. She asked if I knew what the buzzer was for.
I explained that it signals blind people when the light is red.
Appalled, she responded, "What on earth are blind people doing driving?!"
She was a probation officer in Wichita, KS.
IDIOT SIGHTING: At a goodbye luncheon for an old and dear coworker who was leaving the company due to "downsizing," our manager commented cheerfully, "This is fun. We should do this more often."
Not another word was spoken. We all just looked at each other with that deer-in-the-headlights stare. This was a lunch at Texas Instruments.
IDIOT SIGHTING: I work with an individual who plugged her power strip back into itself and, for the sake of her life, couldn't understand why her system would not turn on. A deputy with the Dallas County Sheriff's office, no less.
IDIOT SIGHTING: How would you pronounce this child's name? "Le-a" Leah?? NO, Lee-A?? NOPE, Lay-a?? NO, Lei?? Guess again. This child attends a school in Kansas City, MO. Her mother is irate because everyone is getting her name wrong. It's pronounced "Ledasha". When the mother was asked about the pronunciation of the name, she said, "the dash don't be silent."
So, if you see something come across your desk like this, please remember to pronounce the dash. If they ask you why, tell them the dash don't be silent.
Stay alert! They walk among us...and they vote. | null | null | Authors/Jack_Spratt/Jokes and Giggles/IDIOT SIGHTING.txt |
88,257 | Jack Spratt | A trip to Costco | Yesterday, I was at my local Costco buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Biscuit, the Wonder Dog, and was in the checkout line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog. What did she think I had, an elephant? Since I'm retired and have little to do, I told her on impulse that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn't, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms. I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way it works is to load your pants pockets with Purina nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete, so it works well, and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stepped off a curb to sniff an Irish Setter's behind and a car hit us both. I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack, he was laughing so hard. Costco won't let me shop there anymore. Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the world to think of crazy things to say. | null | null | Authors/Jack_Spratt/Jokes and Giggles/Sept. 2014/A trip to Costco.txt |
88,278 | Jack Spratt | A Farmer's Logic | You know there are so many TV channels, each one starved for new programs. In a rural program for farmers, a female TV reporter seeking the main cause of Mad Cow disease arranged for an interview with a farmer who might have some theories on the matter.
The interview went as follows:
The lady reporter: I am here to collect information on the possible sources of Mad Cow Disease. Can you offer any reason for this disease?
The farmer stared at the reporter and said, "Did you know that a bull mounts a cow only once a year?"
Reporter (obviously embarrassed): Well, sir, that's a new piece of information, but what's the relation between this phenomenon and Mad Cow disease?
Farmer: "Miss, did you know that we milk a cow twice a day?"
Reporter: "Sir, this is really valuable information, but what about getting to the point?"
Farmer: "I am getting to the point, Miss. Just imagine, if I was playing with your breasts twice a day and only having sex with you once a year, wouldn't you get mad?"
THE TV INTERVIEW WAS NEVER AIRED. | null | null | Authors/Jack_Spratt/Jokes and Giggles/Sept. 2014/A Farmers logic.txt |
88,315 | Jack Spratt | Regional Attitudes | You may have heard on the news about a Southern California man who was put under 72-hour psychiatric observation when it was found he owned 100 guns and allegedly had 100,000 rounds of ammunition stored in his home. The house also featured a secret escape tunnel.
By Southern California standards, someone owning 100,000 rounds is considered "mentally unstable."
In Michigan, he'd be called "the last white guy still living in Detroit." In Arizona, he'd be called "an avid gun collector."
In Arkansas, he'd be called "a novice gun collector."
In Utah and Florida, he'd be called "moderately well prepared," but they'd probably reserve judgment until they made sure that he had a corresponding quantity of stored food.
In Kansas, he'd be "a guy down the road you would want to have for a friend."
In Montana, he'd be called "the neighborhood 'Go-To' guy."
In Idaho, he'd be called "a likely gubernatorial candidate."
In Georgia, he'd be called "an eligible bachelor."
In North Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia, Mississippi, Tennessee, Kentucky, and South Carolina, he would be called "a deer hunting buddy."
And in Texas, he'd just be "Bob, who's a little short on ammo." | null | null | Authors/Jack_Spratt/Jokes and Giggles/October 2014/Regional Attitudes.txt |
88,327 | Jack Spratt | Jack Spratt's You're Older Than Dirt If | You're older than dirt if...
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Darn, I'm older than dirt!! Someone asked the other day, "What was your favorite fast food when you were growing up?" "We didn't have fast food when I was growing up," I informed him, "All the food was slow."
"C'mon, seriously. Where did you eat?" "It was a place called 'at home,'" I explained. "Mom cooked every day and when Dad got home from work, we sat down together at the dining room table, and if I didn't like what she put on my plate, I was allowed to sit there until I did like it."
By this time, the kid was laughing so hard I was afraid he was going to suffer serious internal damage, so I didn't tell him the part about how I had to have permission to leave the table. Here are some other things I would have told him about my childhood if I figured his system could have handled it:
Some parents NEVER owned their own house, wore Levis, set foot on a golf course, traveled out of the country, or had a credit card.
My parents never drove me to school. I had a bicycle that weighed probably 50 pounds and only had one speed (slow).
We didn't have a television in our house until I was 10. It was, of course, black and white, and the station went off the air at 11, after playing the national anthem and a poem about God. It came back on the air at about 6 a.m. and there was usually a locally produced news and farm show on, featuring local people...
I never had a telephone in my room. The only phone was on a party line. Before you could dial, you had to listen and make sure some people you didn't know weren't already using the line.
Pizzas were not delivered to our home... But milk was and so was bread.
All newspapers were delivered by boys and all boys delivered newspapers -- my brother delivered a newspaper, six days a week. He had to get up at 5AM every morning.
Movie stars kissed with their mouths shut. At least, they did in the movies! There were no movie ratings because all movies were responsibly produced for everyone to enjoy viewing, without profanity or violence or most anything offensive.
If you grew up in a generation before there was fast food, you may want to share some of these memories with your children or grandchildren. Just don't blame me if they bust their gut laughing.
Growing up isn't what it used to be, is it?
MEMORIES:
My Dad is cleaning out my grandmother's house (she died in December) and he brought me an old Royal Crown Cola bottle. In the bottle top was a stopper with a bunch of holes in it. I knew immediately what it was, but my daughter had no idea. She thought they had tried to make it a salt shaker or something. I knew it as the bottle that sat on the end of the ironing board to 'sprinkle' clothes with because we didn't have steam irons. Man, I am old.
How many do you remember? Headlight dimmer switches on the floor, ignition switches on the dashboard, pant leg clips for bicycles without chain guards, soldering irons you heat on a gas burner, using hand signals for cars without turn signals.
Older Than Dirt Quiz: Count all the ones that you remember, NOT the ones you were told about! Ratings at the bottom.
1. Candy cigarettes 2. Coffee shops with tableside jukeboxes 3. Home milk delivery in glass bottles 4. Party lines on the telephones 5. Newsreels before the movie 6. TV test patterns that came on at night after the last show and were there until TV shows started again in the morning. (there were only 3 channels!! If you had a TV!!) 7. Pea-shooters 8. Howdy Doody 9. 45 RPM records 10. 78 rpm records 11. Hi-fi records 33 1/3 rpm 12. Metal ice trays with lever 13. Blue flashbulb 14. Cork popguns 15. Studebakers 16. Wash tub wringers
If you remembered 0-3 = You're still young
If you remembered 3-6 = You are getting older
If you remembered 7-10 = Don't tell your age
If you remembered 11-16 = You're older than dirt!!!
THAT'S ME!!!
I might be older than dirt, but those memories are some of the best parts of my life.
Don't forget to pass this along!! Especially to all your really OLD friends. | null | null | Authors/Jack_Spratt/Jokes and Giggles/October 2014/Youre older than dirt if.txt |
88,340 | Jack Spratt | King Arthur and the Old Woman | Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighboring kingdom. The monarch could have killed him but was moved by Arthur's youth and ideals. So, the monarch offered him his freedom, as long as he could answer a very difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer, and if, after a year, he still had no answer, he would be put to death.
The question? What do women really want? Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end.
He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everyone: the princess, the priests, the wise men, and even the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer.
Many people advised him to consult the old ugly woman, for only she would have the answer. But the price would be high, as the woman was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.
The last day of the year arrived, and Arthur had no choice but to talk to the old woman. She agreed to answer the question, but he would have to agree to her price first. The old ugly woman wanted to marry Sir Lancelot, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend!
Young Arthur was horrified. She was hunchbacked and hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, and made obscene noises. He had never encountered such a repugnant creature in all his life. He refused to force his friend to marry her and endure such a terrible burden, but Lancelot, learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur.
He said nothing was too big of a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table. Hence, a wedding was proclaimed, and the woman answered Arthur's question thus:
What a woman really wants, she answered, is to be in charge of her own life.
Everyone in the kingdom instantly knew that the woman had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared. And so it was, the neighboring monarch granted Arthur his freedom, and Lancelot and the ugly woman had a wonderful wedding.
The honeymoon hour approached, and Lancelot, steeling himself for a horrific experience, entered the bedroom. But, what a sight awaited him. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen lay before him on the bed. The astounded Lancelot asked what had happened.
The young beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she appeared ugly, she would henceforth be her horrible deformed self only half the time and the beautiful maiden the other half. Which would he prefer? Beautiful during the day or night?
Lancelot pondered the predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his castle, an old ugly woman? Or, would he prefer having a hideous woman during the day, but by night, a beautiful woman for him to enjoy wondrous intimate moments?
Noble Lancelot said that he would allow HER to make the choice herself. Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time because he had respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.
The moral is: If you don't let a woman have her own way, things are going to get ugly. | null | null | Authors/Jack_Spratt/Jokes and Giggles/August 2014/King Arthur and the Old Woman.txt |
88,379 | Jack Spratt | Jack Spratt's Comic talent from the past | You may or may not remember these old-time comedians: Shecky Green, Red Buttons, Totie Fields, Milton Berle, Henny Youngman, and many others, but their comedic talent had generations laughing. I, for one, miss their kind of humor.
* I just got back from a pleasure trip. I took my mother-in-law to the airport.
* I've been in love with the same woman for 49 years. If my wife finds out, she'll kill me!
* Someone stole all my credit cards, but I won't be reporting it. The thief spends less than my wife did.
* We always hold hands. If I let go, she shops.
* My wife and I went to a hotel where we got a waterbed. My wife calls it the Dead Sea.
* My wife and I revisited the hotel where we spent our wedding night. This time I was the one who stayed in the bathroom and cried.
* The doctor gave a man six months to live. The man couldn't pay his bill, so the doctor gave him another six months.
* The doctor called Mrs. Cohen saying, "Mrs. Cohen, your check came back." Mrs. Cohen replied, "So did my arthritis!"
* Doctor: "You'll live to be 60!" Patient: "I AM 60!" Doctor: "See! What did I tell you?"
* Patient: "I have a ringing in my ears." Doctor: "Don't answer!"
* Why do Jewish divorces cost so much? They're worth it.
* Why do Jewish men die before their wives? They want to.
* The Harvard School of Medicine did a study of why Jewish women like Chinese food so much. The study revealed that the reason for this is because Won Ton spelled backward is Not Now.
* There is a big controversy on the Jewish view of when life begins. In Jewish tradition, the fetus is not considered viable until it graduates from law school.
* Q: Have you seen the newest Jewish-American-Princess horror movie? A: It's called, "Debbie Does Dishes."
* Q: Why do Jewish mothers make great parole officers? A: They never let anyone finish a sentence.
* A man called his mother in Florida. "Mom, how are you?" "Not too good," said the mother. "I've been very weak." The son said, "Why are you so weak?" She said, "Because I haven't eaten in 38 days." The son said, "That's terrible. Why haven't you eaten in 38 days?" The mother answered, "Because, I didn't want my mouth to be full in case you should call."
* A Jewish man said that when he was growing up, they always had two choices for dinner - Take it or leave it.
* A Jewish boy comes home from school and tells his mother he has a part in the play. She asks, "What part is it?" The boy says, "I play the part of the Jewish husband." The mother scowls and says, "Go back and tell the teacher you want a speaking part."
Q: Where does a Jewish husband hide money from his wife? A: Under the vacuum cleaner.
A Jewish mother gives her son a blue shirt and a brown shirt for his birthday. On the next visit, he wears the brown one. The mother says, "What's the matter already? Didn't you like the blue one?"
Q: What's the difference between a Rottweiler and a Jewish mother? A: Eventually, the Rottweiler lets go. | null | null | Authors/Jack_Spratt/Jokes and Giggles/November 2014/ Comic talent from the past.txt |
89,460 | Auntsuzy | Retarded Young Wife 3 | Yolanda smiled mischievously at him as she slid the big 12-inch black cock slowly in and out of her mouth and then pulled it out with a plopping sound as he stood next to her.
"That's a BIG cock!" she giggled as a bit of drool ran out of her small mouth whose lips had just been stretched to the limit by the mammoth head.
"Ha! You are such a hot little slut, Yolanda. I see you are having a fun time looking at all the toys."
"They got lots of stuff, Jim! I ain't never seen anything like this before," her young eyes were filled with wonder at all the sexual devices on the walls and stacked on tables throughout the well-lit store.
"So Jack never brought you here?" he asked as he picked up a dildo with a vibrator, starting his gentle probing of what was going on with Jack and the pantie videos.
"No, we never came here," she replied as she took the vibrator dildo from him and licked the tip.
"Oh, well, does Jack come here by himself?"
She shook her head. "Naw, I don't think so...least wise he never said he did."
Jim kind of steered her over to another wall where there were lots of sexy lingerie and panties. He picked up a pair of panties as he spoke, "Well, does Jack like you to put on panties like this and take pictures of you?"
"No." She took the panties and held them in front of her to show them off for Jim. "You want me to wear these for ya?" she asked seductively.
"Hmmm, I like the little ones you are wearing right now, baby," he replied and went on with another question.
"Do you ever jack him off while he is playing with panties?"
The young girl laughed a bit. "No, I ain't never jacked him off."
Now Jim was puzzled. He was pretty sure the half-wit wasn't lying to him, yet his friend said he had seen videos of Yolanda jacking off her husband. And the ring was in every video, so it must be her.
Jim pointed to a sign next to the panties and then read it to Yolanda, who was unable to read.
"Used panties for sale at the counter. $10 and up. We buy used panties."
Yolanda listened and then looked at Jim. "Will they buy my panties?"
"Sure, baby."
She was all ears now. "How much will they give me for them?"
"Well, why don't we go ask Frank and see," Jim was sure now that she didn't know about her husband's pantie fetish, but was still really curious how Jack was getting the video, and then it hit him.
"Yolanda, do you ever take your wedding ring off?"
"Yeah, I usually don't wear it much 'cause it snags on stuff," she replied.
"Does your 10-year-old sister ever put it on?"
Yolanda nodded her head. "Ya, she likes to play Mommy and Daddy and pretends she's married."
Bingo! That was it! The little girl's hand was the one in the videos. Maybe. Or maybe it was another woman Jack had on the side. But it wasn't Yolanda.
"Hey, Frank, Yolanda wants to know if you'll buy her panties and how much?"
Frank looked at him a bit puzzled as he figured the girl would already know that. Jim winked at him and quickly said, "She's got a well-used pair on right now."
"Well, we'll have to go in the back room and see them, but we usually pay $10 a pair. But if we get a video of you wearing them, we give you $20," Frank said, "and we can do it now if you want some money today. You want $20, Yolanda?"
"Yes!! I needs some money!" the dumb slut eagerly replied.
"Ok, let's go to the video recording studio. There's a couple other ways to make money now too," Frank explained to her as he led the willing dimwit into a small room back behind the counter.
There was a small four-poster single bed in the center with the head up against the wall. Cameras on tripods were on both sides of the stained mattress, and another small camera was mounted on the wall by the head to get face shots.
White silk ropes with loops on the end were attached to the posters. Some ball gags were hanging on the wall along with some other BDSM items.
A ceiling camera was mounted next to a flat-screen TV so that the girl getting fucked could watch it all as she lay there staring up at the ceiling.
"This is where we make a lot of our videos we sell here. Just think, Yolanda, you could be a movie star," Frank explained as he pointed to the nasty mattress where many girls had been fucked senseless as the many cameras caught it all.
Yolanda was awe-struck by the scene, her jaw hung down as she took in the room. A box at the foot of the bed had all sorts of vibrators, dildos, whips, and masks.
She smiled at the thought of being a movie star. "Cool." Bending down, she pulled a strange object out of the toy box. "What's this?"
Frank laughed a bit. "That's a rubber dog cock. You ever been fucked by a dog?"
Her eyes got wide open. "What? Fucked by a dog! No...can they do that?..."
"Oh yeah, dogs fuck girls all the time. You didn't know that?" Frank replied, a bit surprised.
"No," she murmured.
Jim chimed in now. "Yolanda is pretty innocent, Frank. There is a lot she doesn't know," he made circles next to his head to indicate she was crazy as he stood behind the retard and couldn't see him gesturing that she was stupid.
"Well, pretty girl, you have come to the right place to learn about sex. That's all we do here, and you can make a lot of money right here in this room anytime you like."
"I can?" she responded eagerly as she was wanting money like all the other sluts who passed through this room.
Frank nodded and smiled at her. "You sure can, and it's very easy. All you have to do is lay there on the bed and do what we tell you while we video record it."
"How much money do I get?"
The man sensed he had a hot one on the line and decided to reel her in. "Oh, you can make like $500 in a day if we are busy."
"Five hundred dollars!!" she exclaimed. "Just to lay here on this bed?"
"Oh yeah. But you have to do stuff on the bed that guys want to see so they can jack off and shoot their loads while they watch your hot body getting fucked and other stuff."
Yolanda stared hard at the man, obviously interested in making $500. "Well, when can I start?"
Frank and Jim both laughed at her eagerness. Jim knew she was a slut in the making, even though she had only been screwed by Jack and himself.
"You can start right now, baby. We have a training period for new girls like you, and you'll get $100 to learn all the different things we like to make movies about. It will take a couple sessions over the next few days, but in a few weeks, you will become a movie star," Frank explained as he turned on the bright lights, illuminating the bed.
"Wanna start now?" he asked as Jim looked on.
"Yeah! What do I gotta do?" the dimwit eagerly replied. "Oh, does I get paid today? I wanna go get my nails done 'cause I ain't never got no money to get 'em done."
"Sure, baby, I'll pay you cash, but you might be interested to know that the girl, Cherri, who works the night shift here also works in a beauty shop during the day and does all that stuff."
"Really! When is she comin' in?"
"Actually, she should be here by now. And I think she will give you a really good deal," Frank smiled and went on, "She likes girls. Especially young girls. And you look really young, so I suspect she'll love you. Literally."
Yolanda just looked at him with a dumb look. She had no idea what he meant.
Just then, the door alarm went off, signaling someone had entered the store. Frank led them out into the store. "Oh, speak of the Devil, here she is now."
A very cute small girl about five feet tall with short black hair walked over to them, smiling. She had on a white blouse with a black short skirt that was her work uniform. The blouse was unbuttoned enough so you could almost see her nipples on the almost nonexistent breasts.
Cherri's black eyes flashed as she smiled at Yolanda, looking her up and down with obvious approval. "Well, who do we have here?" she asked as she put her small purse behind the counter, flashing her beautiful red-painted nails so the other female could see them.
"I is Yolanda," the obviously enthralled girl replied as she looked at the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. It was instant love as the two females stared at each other briefly.
Jim noticed it right away, and it explained why Yolanda had never had much sex with men. She was a lesbian deep down, and it was very obvious that Cherri and her hit it off instantly.
Jim knew Cherri, who was about 30, and the woman never had anything to do with men as far as sex was concerned that he knew about.
Jim had seen videos that they sold here in the store of Cherri with other women, and she appeared to be a very aggressive lesbian. He guessed Yolanda was going to get a good education about female-to-female sex.
"Well, what brings you here, sweetheart? I haven't ever seen you in here before," Cherri asked as she came back over to where they were standing and stood close to Yolanda.
Jim replied, "Yolanda wants to get pregnant, and I'm helping her.""I told her that she needs to have orgasms after I squirt my semen inside her cunt because it makes her sex organs suck it up and get her knocked up faster."
He waved his arm a bit, pointing to all the toys. "And all these sex toys will make her cum like crazy so we are getting her all the tools she needs to get pregnant."
Cherri smiled as she continued to stare at the retard. "Well, sweetheart, Jim is right. The more you cum after a man squirts inside you, the better it is to get pregnant."
"How long have you been trying, honey?" the older woman asked as she blatantly looked at the almost child-like body. Cherri had a lot of experience with many older women and younger girls, but this youngster was really turning her on.
"Uh, I don't know...maybe a couple months. Nack isn't doing it to me very much, and Jim," she turned and smiled at him, "says we gotta do it all the time." Yolanda giggled a bit. "An' so he done it to me two times today 'cause he gonna get me pregnant 'cause Nack don't fuck me much."
Sherri looked a bit puzzled. "Well, is Nack your husband or Jim?" She could tell already this young girl was not quite all there, and it turned Cherri on in a weird way. A dumb little slut who she could manipulate would be exciting.
Now Jim spoke up. "Jack. His name is Jack, and he's her husband, but he doesn't have any interest in Yolanda, just her little sister and her panties." He explained to Cherri, "And they want her to get pregnant so they can get more welfare money, so I told Yolanda I'd knock her up while Jack did his pantie thing or whatever he does."
Sherri listened, and then some things started to come together. She knew she'd seen the ring somewhere before, and now the name Jack and panties brought it all into detail.
Jack had been bringing panties into the sex shop for them to sell, and he always had a video of a girl wearing the used panties. Usually a girl's small hand was jacking him off on the panties she was wearing, or he was squirting in them. And that same ring was on her hand in most of the videos.
"Oh, so it's you that's jacking him off in all those videos," she replied.
"Huh?" both Yolanda and Jim said at the same time as they looked at each other.
"You know...all those videos he brings in of you jacking him off and squirting his jizz on your little girl panties that we sell to the guys who ordered them. Jeeze, you've done it at least ten times."
"I ain't neber done nothin' like dat," the retard replied with a puzzled sound in her voice.
"I think I know what's going on," Jim cut in as he looked at Cherri. "Jack is getting dirty little girl panties somewhere, maybe from the homes where he cleans carpets, and jacks off with them and secretly takes Yolanda's ring and has a little girl jack him off, but she's wearing the ring so you think it is an adult."
Sherri nodded her head slowly. It all made sense now. She always had a strange feeling about Jack, and this confirmed it. "Yeahhhhh, I wondered about him. And he bought a little boy 4" dildo a couple months ago along with some tapered anal bead rods.. We give him wholesale prices because he supplies us with dirty panties."
Frank chimed in, "We've got all the videos on the computer in the back. Let's go play detective and see if we can figure out whose wearing those panties and jacking him off." Frank suggested as he headed to the back room.
Jim went with him, but Cherri told Yolanda to stay with her as another two customers had just walked in, and the woman had to stay in the store while the guys browsed around.
"So Yolanda, how long have you been married?" Cherri asked as they stood behind the glass counter that was loaded with sex toys.
"Uhhh, 'bout a year."
"How long did you date Jack, and where did you meet him?" Cherri wanted to know all the girl stuff as the relationship seemed odd.
"Well, only 'bout a couple weeks. My Grama said I should marry Nack 'cause he would take care of me." She smiled and went on, "Grama bringed him ta da place I used to live at and den we got married."
Cherri was a bit surprised. "Well, do you love him?"
Yolanda shook her head a bit. "Naw, I don't tink so."
"Well, why did you marry him if you don't love him?" the woman asked incredulously.
The retard giggled. "I don' know...Grama said to, I guess."
Cherri put her arm tenderly around Yolanda's shoulder and pulled her close. "Baby, you're not supposed to marry someone if you don't love them," she admonished the child in a motherly way.
"Oh. I didn't know dat," the dimwitted girl replied.
"Does he kiss you a lot?"
"Naw, we don' hardly eber kiss."
"Does he say 'I love you'?"
"Na."
"Oh, sweetheart, you need somebody to teach you about life. Everybody is just using you for fun, and they don't care about you. Jim is fucking you, and Jack is...well, I don't know what Jack is doing, but it's certainly not anything good for you."
Cherri was truly concerned about the young girl whose mentality was that of a 12-year-old, it seemed. And at the same time, Cherri was excited by the innocence of the girl who knew next to nothing about life.
Yolanda would be fun to teach and easily manipulated into doing anything Cherri wanted to do with her young body. Besides, Cherri's last girlfriend had moved out a couple months ago, and Cherri was looking for a new relationship as she was getting very horny and tired of masturbating alone.
"Baby, I want you to be my secret girlfriend, and I'll teach you all about how men and women fall in love. Especially how women fall in love with women and how girls pleasure each other. Would you like that?" Cherri laid it on the line, hoping the young girl would go for it.
"YEFF!" Yolanda instantly replied loudly. So loud that the guy who was looking at panties on the back wall heard her and looked their way curiously.
"I mean yeff," the girl repeated in almost a whisper.
Cherri pulled the young girl's mouth to hers and kissed her softly on the lips as her hand slipped behind Yolanda's head and held it as she pulled her mouth back a bit. "Did you like that, baby?" she murmured softly as her mouth covered the girl's lips once again without waiting for an answer.
This time she slid the tip of her tongue inside Yolanda's mouth, and Yolanda kind of twitched and pulled back.
"Hasn't anybody ever frenched you?" Cherri asked as she sensed Yolanda's surprise.
"Wat...wat is dat?" she asked in a puzzled manner.
"Oh, baby, haven't you ever done any kissing with anybody?" Cherri asked, a bit surprised.
"No, I ain't neber don' no kissin' stuff," she shook her head slowly.
Cherri laughed softly. "Honey, you have a lot to learn, and I promise you that you'll love it. Did you like it when I just kissed you?"
"Yeah, but why did you stick your tongue in my mouff?" the innocent sweetheart asked.
"That means I love you, baby, and I'm going to stick my tongue in other places on your body too to prove I love you."
Just then, the man walked up to the counter with a powered jackoff flesh tube and a small anal bullet egg-shaped vibrator and set them on the counter. "Hate to interrupt you two, but I gotta get home and test these things out. Do you have any lube?" he smiled at them.
"Oh, yes, sir." Cherri reached in the counter and pulled out a large tube of lubricant. "This is our most popular, and it's half price with any purchase," she explained as she set it down on the counter.
"Let me put some batteries in the vibrator and make sure it works because you can't return them." Cherri quickly installed two test batteries and turned on the vibrator that hummed faster and faster as she adjusted the speed.
Yolanda looked on, fascinated with the vibrator. "Dat's cool," she declared.
"You ever use one?" the man asked her.
"No," she replied.
"Well, I have, and you should try it. They are really fun," he explained as he paid for the stuff and left the store.
The other guy, who was waiting until the first guy left, came up to the counter and set down a box with a little Barbie doll inside, and Yolanda took the doll out to inspect it.
He looked at Yolanda and then at Cherri. "Is she your daughter?"
"No," Cherri laughed. "She's my girlfriend. Why?"
"Well...ah... she looks kinda young...you know, to be in an adult porn store," he sheepishly commented.
"Oh, I assure you she's 18 or we wouldn't allow her in here, for all I know you could be a cop checking us out," Cherri replied and went on, "How old does she look to you?"
The man laughed. "About 12, and, believe me, I ain't no cop."
Cherri smiled and nodded. "Yeah, everyone thinks she's just a little 6th grader." Cherri acted like it was no big thing.
Yolanda was staring at the doll he had put on the counter.
"I got's a dollie jus' like dis. How come you buyin' a dollie, miffer?" she asked dumbly.
The guy just looked at her as Cherri laughed and took the box. "She doesn't know about sex stores yet," she explained to the guy as she pulled the 14" doll out of the box to test it.
"See here, Yolanda," she pointed to the pussy hole on the toy doll. "The doll has a cunt, and the guys stick their cocks inside and cum just like they are fucking a real girl."
The dimwit's eyes were wide open. "Really! My Barbie ain't got no hole like dat."
The man and Cherri both laughed. "I like 'em with a hole better," the man declared. He looked at Yolanda and asked, "You want to sell your Barbie doll? I'd love to have one you played with."
Yolanda was puzzled. "Well, what would you do wit it?"
"Jackoff and cum on it," he replied matter-of-factually. "I'll give you $10 for it."
The young girl looked at Yolanda. "Kin I do dat?"
"Sure, baby, you can sell him anything he wants. Maybe he wants some little girl panties of yours."
The man instantly perked up. "You got some panties for sale? Are they used?"
"Tell him, baby. What do you have on now?" the older woman prodded the beginner along.
"Well, da ones I gots all now are all messy and dirty 'cause Jim..." and here she stopped, not knowing if she should say that Jim's cum was all over them.
"What, baby? What about Jim, tell us," Cherri urged her on."Well, me and Jim were in the Walmart, and he found some dirty, peed-on panties from some little girl in the bathroom, and he made me put them on, and then he fucked me, and his stuff and my pee got all over them."
She stepped back from the counter and pulled her skirt up, exposing her little cotton Dora the Explorer panties. They were still wet in the crotch, and there was a tear in the waistband of the worn-out panties.
"Oh, fuck, I want those right now!" the man groaned.
"$50," Cherri quickly announced.
"OK," he replied.
Cherri quickly added, "You want a picture of her wearing them? $20 more, mister."
"Hell, yeah, I'd love a shot of that," he quickly got his cellphone out.
"Pull your skirt up, baby, and show the man your nasty, dirty panties," the older woman instructed her.
Yolanda pulled her skirt way up, and the man started taking pictures. "Can I do a short video, too?"
"Sure. Yolanda, hump and grind a bit... that's it, baby," the young girl did as told and humped her panty-covered crotch at the camera as she fingered her slit through the crotch.
He put the cellphone back in his pocket.
"Take your panties off now, baby. You just made yourself $70," Cherri laughed as she got a small plastic bag for the panties.
Yolanda was flabbergasted that somebody would pay $70 for dirty, worn-out panties as she quickly pulled them off and handed them to the man, who stuck his hand out.
He quickly put the soggy little girl panties to his nose and inhaled, "Oh, shit, I'm gonna shoot some good loads with these." The man smiled at Yolanda as he dropped them in the bag.
"Now, about your Barbie Doll. When could I get it?"
Cherri quickly replied, "Tomorrow, about this same time, OK?"
"OK, I'll pay you for it now," he got his wallet out as Cherri rang up the bill and he paid her cash.
"I'll be back tomorrow," he promised as he left the store.
Yolanda looked at Cherri, "Well, what he gonna do with that dollie he bought?"
"Baby, he's gonna put his hard cock in it and jack off inside it."
"Really!!" Yolanda was surprised.
"Yes, really. Now, baby, you told the first man you never used a vibrator. Is that true?" she asked, not hardly believing it.
The young girl giggled a bit, "No, I ain't never used a vibrator thing. Have you?"
"Oh, shit, yes, baby! It's the only way to go... or cum," she laughed.
"Baby, are you really sure you haven't ever used a vibrator?!" Cherri asked again, wide-eyed, thinking the girl was teasing her.
"Nope."
"Oh, my God, am I ever gonna have fun with you. You are going to be my hot little bitch in training," the woman declared as Frank and Jim came out of the back room where they had been reviewing the videos that Jack had brought in.
"Training?" Jim inquired. "What kind of training?"
"Everything, Jim. She is a total newbie to all this stuff. Did you know that?" Cherri declared as she reached down and took the young girl's hand.
"She's gonna be my secret girlfriend, and I'm going to teach her all about life and sex, and you two guys are gonna keep it a secret, along with helping me to teach her everything she needs to know," Yolanda declared as she again kissed the girl, but very lightly, more of a peck on the lips.
Then Yolanda turned to the men, "Now, tell us what you two have found out. We want to know, huh, Yolanda, baby."
"Yeah, what is Jack doing?" Yolanda asked.
"Well," Frank started out, "for one thing, he is NOT jacking off with you. See that little mole on your ring finger by your nail? That's not on the hands that have been jacking him off."
"Hands?" Cherri asked.
"Yeah, hands," Jim replied. "There are at least two other girls jacking him off, and maybe a third, we can't tell because the video is a bit blurred."
"One of them has blue fingernail polish that is almost completely worn off, and the other has a darker skin, almost like a Mexican girl would have," Frank informed them as he motioned for Yolanda and Cherri to follow him into the small bedroom where the computer screen had a video paused.
It showed Jack's small cock, and when Frank started it, you could see Jack was jacking off into a little pair of girl's pink panties. He aimed the tip of his cock right on the dirty inside crotch and shot a small load of thick jism on the dirty material.
Then the video changed, and it was a close-up of the same panties being worn by a girl whose pussy was clearly outlined by the thin material that was stuffed in her crack. You couldn't see anything else of her other than her belly button and halfway down her thighs.
Apparently, she had just put them on after he squirted his jizz in the crotch, as they showed a wet spot where his stuff had soaked through. The girl's left hand came down, and she rubbed her clit through the wet jism, the ring clearly showing.
Frank paused the video, "See... there is your ring."
"Dat ain't me, I ain't never seen dose panties," Yolanda quickly informed them.
"That's what I figured, now watch this next clip," he started it again, and now Jack was on his back with a close-up of his hard cock that had the same panties covering it. A small hand came into the picture and started jacking him off.
You could see the ring a little bit as the girl masturbated him, and then he shot a pretty good load on the pink panties.
"He must have done these videos over a couple of days, 'cause he's shooting a pretty good load there. Or does he make a lot of jizz all the time?" Frank asked Yolanda.
"I don't know 'cause I ain't never seen him ta jackoff like dat," she replied in her weird speech.
"You've never seen him shoot a load?" Frank asked incredulously.
"Nope."
Jim spoke up then, "I told you, Frank. This guy is just using her for money. Yolanda hasn't done nor seen hardly any sex stuff at all. She's like an innocent little girl. Her husband is messing with other girls for sure, and this proves it."
Frank looked puzzled, "Well, I wonder how old those girls are, you can't tell from the video because they are just close-ups. I had no idea all these panties and videos he was bringing in here to sell were little kids' panties."
"They might not be kids, Frank. Like you said, you can't really tell from the poor video. He shoots them with his cellphone, it looks like," Jim ruffled Yolanda's hair as he stood behind her where she was sitting to watch the computer.
"We'll know pretty soon, though, won't we, baby?" He slipped his hands down onto her chest and started gently rubbing both her tiny breasts through the small girl's blouse.
"I've got cameras mounted in the ceiling of every room in their place. In fact, they might be catching him now," Jim went on. "We can log onto my computer from here and check in a little bit. Meanwhile, let's have a little fun."
Yolanda's eyes were closed, and she rested her head against his right arm as he gently felt her up. "Oh, dat feels good, Jim," she moaned as her nipples now poked through the thin white blouse.
"Feel how hard her nipples are, Frank. She has the biggest nipples I've seen in a long time."
Frank quickly took advantage of the invitation to molest the young girl, who made no effort to stop his groping of her small breasts. "Oh, man, I'd love to suck those tiny little girl tits."
Jim quickly unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it open and then off of her completely. "Go for it, Frank. Suck this little slut's tits."
Yolanda giggled a bit and then started moaning as the man brought his mouth down to her small teats and started licking and sucking them. As his teeth started nibbling the tips, she groaned and held his head close to her chest.
"OHHHHH, yefff, dat fealths good," she lisped.
Jim had picked up one of the video cameras and started recording the impromptu molesting of the youngster, who had no shame and let the men have their way.
Her mind wasn't very old, but her body was completely mature, and the inherent instinct to reproduce was extremely strong. Yolanda's hormones were running rampant, and the desire to have the men cum inside her was her only burning desire now as Frank continued molesting the child/woman.
"Put her on the bed, Frank," Jim instructed as he wanted to video the whole scene, and the bed was set up so all angles could be shot.
"We're gonna teach you how to give a blowjob, baby. Have you ever given any man a blowjob, honey?" Jim asked as she let them manipulate her body.
"Naw, I ain't never doned a blowjob," she revealed.
Frank picked her up and laid her tiny frame on the mattress as he stripped off his pants. Frank had a cock about 10 inches, and it was rock hard as he stood beside the bed next to Yolanda's head.
"Suck my cock, baby," he told the willing slut, who took it in her small mouth. Yolanda could only get the giant bulbous head in, and her cheeks were puffed out a bit.
"That's it, baby. Now, wrap your hands around the shaft... yeah, like that... OK, now go up and down my shaft... Ohhhhhh, shitttttttt," he groaned as the willing slut performed like a pro.
Jim caught it all with the camera as drool started leaking out of her mouth, and then Frank grasped the girl's head tightly and said, "I'm cummin'!"
All of a sudden, cum shot out of Yolanda's nose, and her cheeks blew way out as Frank blasted a massive load of jizz inside her mouth and throat. It had been building up for the past hour, and this exciting little retard had really turned him on.
Jim zoomed in on the girl's face as Frank's thick white jism ran out of her nose and mouth when he finally let go of her head and pulled out. She was gasping and choking, tears were running down her face as the cum covered her chin and neck, her drool dripping from her small lips.
Yolanda lay there gasping for breath about five seconds as Jim announced for the video, "This was Yolanda's first blowjob, folks. Tell us what you think of it in the comments section."
Jim knew the porn store would put this on their website. "Smile, baby. You are going to be famous for this video we will title 'Yolanda's First Blowjob'."
The retard lay there and smiled as she stared at the camera, completely unashamed of her filthy actions.Then she licked her lips. "Ummm, that tastes good."
Then the door opened and Cherri walked in. "What the hell?" | null | Part 3 | Authors/auntsuzy/Retarded Young Wife PT 3.txt |
89,475 | null | The Cascade | You could say that it all started because of Facebook. There Sarah was on the final day of her great vacation adventure exploring Mexico, and she just needed a few more photos to post on Facebook before heading home.
So the cute little 19-year-old blonde from Spokane got out of the rental car with her iPhone to record the spectacular view in front of her, right down and across to the sea in the distance. She was so busy with the buttons and framing the picture just right that she didn't even notice the police car pull up behind her. The first thing she knew, as she spun around, was an angry Mexican police officer pointing his gun straight at her and shouting that she should put her hands right up.
Sarah obeyed because she was used to doing what authority figures told her to do. She had been brought up right. But she could make no sense of his urgent flow of Spanish, and all she was able to say herself was "OK. OK. Slow down. Wha....?"
As soon as she was near the car, the officer - whose name tag showed him to be Captain Gomez - pushed her roughly against the metal, pulled her arms back behind her, and suddenly she was in handcuffs.
Now that Sarah was restrained, the Captain at least put his gun back into its holster, and that made things a little calmer. Darn it, she thought, why didn't I pay more attention in Spanish classes? But it was too late for that now, so Sarah shrugged her shoulders in an exaggerated way and made what she hoped was a puzzled face, to show that she just didn't understand what was going on here.
The angry Captain held up the iPhone that he had snatched from her and shook it in her face while pointing to his left, where to Sarah's surprise she noticed for the first time a large official-looking poster naming some military base, at the bottom of which was a graphic of a camera with a large red cross over it. No photographs allowed. Perhaps because Captain Gomez realized that the cute girl had no Spanish, he pointed at her accusingly and spoke in English for the first time. "You Spy!"
Sarah still didn't panic when a few minutes later she found herself, still firmly handcuffed, in the back seat of the police car being driven away from her rental and all her possessions, to who knows where. She felt that this was all a huge mistake and surely it would soon be sorted out, and then she could end her vacation as planned and go home to where everything would be normal again.
By the time the police car pulled up at the large pink police station, it was late afternoon and the heat was almost unbearable. Sarah was pushed into what she guessed was a waiting area, locked in, and left for what seemed like half an hour. Eventually a dark Mexican woman came to collect her and to supervise her processing into the system.
Sarah tried speaking politely to the woman but found that she was ignored. She must have had orders not to speak to the prisoners. At least her handcuffs were removed while Sarah was led into a bathroom area and allowed to use the toilets. When she emerged, the Mexican woman held out a bright orange loose shift dress and gestured that it was what Sarah was now to wear. So her top, her shoes, her jeans - everything down to her white undies - went into a basket, and Sarah slipped into the orange cotton dress.
In the meantime, someone from the local police must have collected her abandoned rental car. Because the next time Sarah was brought in front of Captain Gomez, all her cases and backpack were laid out on a table, open, as he checked through the contents. The Captain turned to her, holding her passport open at the picture page.
"You Sarah Holden? Date of birth March 14 1993? American? Yes?"
Sarah nodded to agree, trying to remain as polite as she could. "Yes, Sir."
But then his face again turned nasty as he spat out "Why you come here to spy on us?"
"But Sir. Honest. I am not a spy, just a tourist. And I am going home tomorrow so I won't be any further trouble..."
The Captain looked distinctly unconvinced and handed Sarah her iPhone with a card on which was written a phone number. "This number of American Consul. You ring. He come to hear what you have done."
At last, thought Sarah. A way out of this nightmare. So, very happily, she took the phone and dialed the suggested number. Sure enough, a young male Midwestern voice answered "Hello. Can I help you?"
Sarah explained who she was and what had happened, and the young man seemed to make notes and write down all of her story. He seemed to take it very calmly, as the sort of thing that he dealt with many times a month, so Sarah began to relax a little. It was going to be alright.
She heard the man's voice tell her that a US official would be sent to visit her in the police station. Unfortunately, there was no way that anyone could reach her until the next day, but she was not to worry, they would be there tomorrow, and it would all be looked into. Now could she pass him on to the Captain so that he could be given details of where she was held?
Sarah passed the phone over, and the Captain spoke in quick Spanish to the US official before switching off the iPhone and tossing it back on to the table covered in her possessions.
Things were in motion, and perhaps the Captain had softened a little because he then asked Sarah if she needed a drink. It was so hot in the police station that the girl quickly agreed. The Captain bent to speak into his telecoms, and soon afterwards, the same dark Mexican woman came in to bring Sarah a large plastic beaker of Coke. Which she drank greedily. In fact, the drink was probably more like 2 parts local Rum to 3 parts Coke, but Sarah was not an experienced drinker and hardly noticed the "funny taste". But in a while, she would be a little looser.
The end of the afternoon and early part of the evening passed with very little happening for Sarah. She was locked into a cell on her own and saw nobody until the Mexican woman brought her a basic meal of beans and rice on a tray with another large beaker of Coke and Rum mix. But behind the scenes, the Captain was busy.
CHAPTER: 2. The Show
Sarah woke with a start of panic as the nightmare rushed back through her mind. There were now 2 young men also in her cell, and one of them, Juan, was right over her face as he had bent down to kiss the edge of her mouth to wake the sleeping beauty.
Luis was standing a little further away near her feet, and both were smiling broadly at the treasure in front of them. In the first split second, Sarah registered that both young men were dressed in white shirts and loose cotton trousers held up by thin rope around their waists.And despite looking so pleased, both men were handcuffed, as she had been, with their hands behind their backs. That was to be their handicap for the show.
Sarah's first instinct was to run from the threat of these dangerous young men, and so she ran, the chain paying out behind her. But in seconds, she was on the other side of the circular arena, and the young men were still behind her. With Juan approaching her left and Luis her right, Sarah dodged and feinted, and again, sprinted away between them. But they were always there, still grinning at her with their hungry white teeth. And the helpless girl couldn't run far.
Juan and Luis enjoyed playing with her for a little while, leaving her spaces to run into before herding her between them and then letting her run again. But there was only ever going to be two winners to this game.
While Luis continued to dance around the panicking girl, Juan headed for the center of the ring. Standing firmly on the beginning of the chain, he started to use all his weight to step slowly along the chain and the prey attached at the end. And with each step, the free part of the chain shortened, and Sarah's area of freedom closed down. Panting, the precious girl stood still as she saw that she was trapped. With the chain almost tight, Juan upon her, Luis took advantage of her distraction to kick her legs away, and Sarah was down.
She could not, of course, understand what the boys said to each other, but clearly, they were used to working together. Juan stayed standing on the last length of chain, very near to her wrists, which pinned Sarah's hands up over her head. She could still move the rest of her body and tried kicking out at Luis, but missed him as he approached her from the side.
Twisting himself around, Luis was able to dip back down so that his hands behind him could take a tight hold on Sarah's orange prison shift and gradually Luis pulled and tugged as he shifted his body up towards the girl's head. Sarah tried furiously to press down with her hips to trap the fabric under her, but it was no use. With a series of strong jerks, Luis dragged the shift up her middle, exposing first her bare legs, then her white panties, and on to her tummy.
By the time the viewers at home caught their first sight of Sarah's white bra and began to wonder about what was held inside them, the shift had reached Sarah's face, and she was blinded by the fabric. She still wriggled and kicked out as much as she could, but she knew that she was now in big trouble and at their mercy.
Unseen by her, Luis took over at her head, standing on the chain to keep Sarah's hands trapped above her head, working at pulling up the fabric that now covered the girl from her neck to her wrists. Juan was free to work on her panties.
Looping round a little, to avoid Sarah's kicking legs, Juan backed into the space between and crouched so that all of a sudden Sarah felt both of his hands seize hold, either side of her panties. And though she screamed into the shift that still covered her face, there was nothing really that she could do. As Juan moved away from her, down towards her toes, her panties went too. And the viewers smiled and leaned towards their screens to get better views of the modest blonde fuzz that marked the beginning of her womanly split.
By this time, Luis had succeeded in pulling the orange shift so far up the girl that it was all above Sarah's head, bunched around her arms. And that meant that Sarah was able to see Juan clearly as he sat down on her.
Straddling her now very naked waist, Juan was able to use his mouth for a change in the next challenge of removing Sarah's last bit of protection. His first bite into her right mound was part fabric and part flesh. Opening his mouth, the boy tried again, and this time felt the seam at the end of her bra and, biting down, took firm hold with his teeth and pulled up and over. The right-hand side of her bra was now stretched up across the top of her squashed breast, pushed out and exposed underneath. Very happily, Juan followed with his open mouth and began to suck greedily at her nipple.
Boys had, of course, tried to get to her breasts before back in Spokane. And Sarah wasn't a virgin. But let us say that she had been going slow, and only Brad, who was her steady boyfriend, had been allowed to suck at her tender nips. Partly this reluctance had been because they were so very sensitive, and the strong sensations sparked by Juan's mouth spread alarm bells through the young girl. "Oh My," she complained. And closed her eyes.
Some time after his first assault on her boobies, by turning her onto her front, the boys managed to release the bra clasp, and it joined her panties somewhere out there on the concrete floor. With the orange fabric of her slip now fully over her head and past her wrists, some way down the chain, the precious girl was exposed to her viewers and to the two Mexican boys in all her naked glory.
For a while, Sarah lay out on her back while one black head was deep between the join of her thighs, tongue wetly exploring her tubes, and the other black head worked around her nipples, breast, and mouth. The only way that Sarah could deal with everything that was coming at her from all sides was to keep her eyes tight shut and zone out as much as possible.
With their hands secured behind their backs, it was not entirely certain if their warm erections would find their way through the frontal slits of their cotton trousers or not. And by the end of that evening's program, one had managed to shed his load in a way that left gooey residue at the edge of Sarah's mouth, while the other had sadly created a washing problem.
3. Seeing the Doctor
Mid-morning the next day found Sarah in the doctor's office. Doctor Sanchez was young and ambitious. He knew that his future lay either in plastic surgery in America or here in Mexico with torture. Both were well-paid and offered exciting prospects, but he had not yet made his choice.
Sarah was still naked and strapped into the doctor's working chair. Wrist restraints held her arms firmly out to the side, and her ankles were clamped into foot stirrups so that she was as exposed for examination as she could be. The doctor was at his desk, looking coolly at her with his laptop open in front of him. Three wires ran from her to a little black box with dials, that in turn linked to his laptop. Two wires led to clips attached to her nipples, and the third went lower down to clip to her clit. The doctor was waiting for his group to come online.
Not too far into the future, Doctor Sanchez could see that he could offer remote torture to his group. Linked by video camera to his office, group members could click to select which pain was applied, chose where, and dial the pain up or down from the ease of their own home computers. But that was still in the future. For now, they could join him on the video and type in requests and questions as to how the doctor should proceed.
Once there were enough green lights lit up on his control panel, the Doctor was ready to begin.
"Good morning, everyone. I hope all is well for you out there. As you can see, today is looking a bit special here, and we have Sarah to play with. Say Good Morning, Sarah."
And because she had been brought up to be polite, Sarah found herself actually saying Good Morning to the invisible audience, wherever it was, looking up at the camera just over the doctor's head. It was really confusing for her because part of her wanted to scream, and yet part of her instinctively wanted to do what this doctor in his white coat asked of her.
"Well, as usual, shall we start with questions and information about Sarah? Sarah, the group will text me their questions, and I will read them out for you to answer. If you lie to us or do not answer, I will switch on some pain like this." And the doctor clicked a switch that sent a sharp electric shock racing through her left nipple. "Or this." A different switch triggered the other side. "Or even this, which is the most fun for me." And this time, the doctor turned a knob which dialed up a mounting wave of sharp pain that bit into her clit, built to an unbearable level that made Sarah arch wildly in her chair, and then stopped. "I trust that is all clear?"
And so Sarah began to answer the questions as they came in. How old was she? When was she first kissed? How old was she when she first had a boy's penis inside her? Was there any sort of sex she didn't like? And so on and on. Sarah tried to answer bravely and honestly, but from time to time, the doctor still shocked her when he either was not sure that she was trying hard enough or just felt like shocking her.
The doctor usually kept the question session to between 5 and 10 minutes, depending on how many people were online. And it was traditional that the second item on the agenda was to shave Sarah down below.
The doctor was able to switch camera so that instead of seeing the full frontal view of the captured girl, the audience could now look down towards her crotch slightly from above. And the doctor went to work.
The wire to her clit was unclipped and set to one side so that the doctor could bring his trimmer into play. Warm water, soap, and a razor, and in a few moments, all that was left of Sarah's lower fuzz was a slim vertical landing strip that the doctor found that his group asked him to leave, an arrow pointing down to the slit beneath. Returning to his desk, the doctor was able to dial in a close-up for the group as he turned the zoom on the camera lens.
The final touch was for the doctor to lean back into her lower regions and to apply a yellow chemical cream that would ensure that no hairs would return for at least a year. The way Sarah now was down there was how she was going to stay for quite a while.The doctor moved slowly and steadily through his group session. He knew from the feedback that there were some people who fixated on one part and others only registered something else. So, he believed that he needed to provide for as many needs as possible.
The third regular stage in his group session was the journey up the victim's vagina as far as her womb. He had a special tube-shaped camera on the end of a flexible wire with its own searchlight at the front - which had been developed for internal investigations. The latest technology gave amazing clarity in the quality of the picture sent up back to his laptop.
Switching to the view from the Crawler (as he liked to call it), the Doctor gave his viewers a spectacular close view of Sarah's outer lips. Dipping his first two fingers into a pot of lubricating oil, the Doctor could be seen stroking oil into her outer lips and then pushing them apart to make way for the Crawler tube. The view paused again to witness the way the Doctor's fingers now oiled and stroked the inner area of Sarah's pink young clit, still showing the teeth marks from its recent clip, and down all around the opening of her vaginal mouth. Behind the camera, more oil was rubbed around the front part of the Crawler, and in it went.
The light from the searchlight at the front of the sliding tube gave a slightly yellow hue to the view of the entrance to Sarah's cave. Teasing the girl as well as his audience, the Doctor playfully thrust slowly back and forth at the entrance to her inner world before slowly sliding ahead, through the pink caverns lit up so clearly inside. Her sweet tubes, of course, brought the probe right up to the entrance to her cervix, and with a little jiggling and pushing, the Doctor was even able to give his viewers a peek into the hidden depth of Sarah's womb. Everything inside the young girl glowed fit, pink, and healthy, waiting for life to take its course. The Doctor sighed with pleasure, knowing that this would be a good one to add to his collection.
After these first three sessions, the Doctor usually allowed the members of his group to text in suggestions for further play. Glancing down at his screen, he saw that the first request was one of his personal favorites - needles through the nipples. With a smile, he reached out towards the ice cubes.
4. Dinner with the Captain
For the Doctor, there was just something special about a naked unconscious woman. So most of his group sessions ended with him administering a strong dose of sedative, putting his clients to sleep so that he could please himself with them. And so it had been for Sarah this time.
When she awoke, feeling sore in many strange places, it was already evening. She was still entirely naked, wrists again handcuffed behind her and locked now in a single-person cell - wondering when the US Consul would come to rescue her from all this craziness.
She had not seen the Captain all day, and to her surprise, it was him who visited her next. He even seemed friendly today as he asked her how she was and offered her another large tub of Rum and Coke, which she drank down gratefully as the weather was still extremely warm in there.
When she had finished her drink, the Captain bent in closer and told her to close her eyes. Sarah obeyed straight away and felt something being pressed over them, which sealed them shut. The Captain had brought two square flesh-colored pieces of Elastoplast, and these were now holding her eyelids fixed and down. She could not see anything.
Sarah tensed, wondering what would happen next, but the Captain simply encouraged her to stand and led her away for her evening meal. She did not know it, but was taken through to the Captain's private quarters, where she was secured, naked and blind, onto a wooden chair, hands fixed behind her back.
She did not know what to expect, but the Captain seemed in a very happy mood as he fed her like a child. She felt the edge of a glass come to her lips and drank what was offered. Food was spooned into her lips, and again, she was so hungry that she was more than happy to open her mouth to the spoon and chew down what was presented to her. Maybe the drink was strong, she wondered, as her head seemed to be starting to swim a little.
A fat sausage appeared at her lips, covered in gravy, and for a moment, the Captain seemed to play with her by moving the end of the sausage in and out of her lips before allowing her to bite into it, and she was sure that she heard him laugh out loud.
Maybe the alcohol she was now drinking was reacting in some way to the remains of the Doctor's sedative because she was definitely getting confused. She could hardly tell any more what was happening to her and did not resist anything.
Once the cold pudding had slipped down, followed by another swallow of whatever drink she was being given, there was a short pause, and then she felt the Captain's hands cool behind her back as he released her from the handcuffs. Almost a dead weight, she was lifted through ninety degrees and found herself now sitting in the Captain's own chair on his bare lap.
The Captain's broad left arm was across her chest, holding her upright, and she could tell that his fingers were now pulling at her right breast, playing with that nipple. She could not see the Captain's right hand reach forward to the oil dressing on the table where it dipped and then moved down to Sarah's open groin.
Sitting on the Captain's lap, Sarah's legs splayed outwards, falling outside his legs - so her center was very much available to the Captain's oily fingers. Dipping and rubbing, the Captain began to apply oil up and down her outer lips and soon after they had found fresh oil, moving in to her inner areas and magic clit. His rubbing was strong and firm with a mixture of soft light stroking and hard squashing force. It was almost as if he was listening for Sarah's reactions to see which she preferred.
Just ahead of everything happening in Sarah's doorway, the Captain's proud erection waited its turn. And as Sarah found herself wriggling a little despite herself, her pubic bone bumped rhythmically against his firm flesh. The Captain's greased hand pressed harder into the nub of the girl's slippery clit, hoisted her waist up, and by slightly tilting his hips beneath her, slid firmly into her waiting slot.
Perhaps to Sarah's surprise, the new firm presence deep inside her did not move as the Captain's sliding fingers continued to rub and stroke at her intimately. It stayed quite still as her engorged flesh heated up around it, tightening its hold on the intruder. Half unconscious, Sarah's awareness seemed to be closing around the firm button of her clit as it was squashed and encouraged by the Captain's fingers. A rosy flush moved rapidly up Sarah's chest, through her breasts and up to her neck, as her breath tightened and a shuddering orgasm broke through her. Deep inside her, the spasms and clutching of her muscles also brought on an instant climax for the Captain, and hundreds of eager cells burst out to swim North.
Captain Gomez sighed and smiled in contentment. All was very well in his world. He had followed protocol, of course - he was too low a cog in the town to do anything else. The previous evening, he had rung to report Sarah's capture to the Commander, and he knew that meant that she would be transferred into the Cascade system tomorrow. That had always been inevitable. But he had just enjoyed her, the ratings from the previous night's show had been great, his daughter had a new iPhone, the rest of Sarah's possessions (including her passport) had been burned as instructed, and there was still time for a little bit of a show this evening. As he shrank, he eased himself out of the American girl and idly wiped himself on her thigh.
"Don't worry, little one. Tonight you will have a cell all to yourself," he smiled.
And that was true. Sarah spent the night in one of the smaller cells that bordered on the edge of the concrete circle. The side of her cell that looked out onto the circle was made up entirely of open iron bars. Vertical bars about 3 inches apart and flat horizontal bars near the ground, halfway up, and near the top.
It was never going to be a comfortable night for the young blonde girl. She was fixed in a standing position, facing hard into the bars and facing in towards the circle arena. By fastening her so that one of the vertical bars ran right up the center of her body, her perky breasts pushed through into space on either side. Her wrists were tied out wide, either side of her to the middle horizontal bar, and her feet too were spread apart and fixed. When Sarah's body pressed forward, the cold metal bar was hard against her pubic bone, the center of her chest, and right up to her nose. Indeed, Sarah instinctively turned her head to one side to take the pressure off her face.
Soon after she had been set up and attached in her cell, Sarah was asleep, exhausted by her day. But the cameras were running, and her video picture was being broadcast out to the Captain's subscribers. Instead of the regular show, the Captain was offering a special offer to the first 5 members who wanted to pay $30 US.
Sarah knew little about the evening's mini-show, but when she began to return to her senses the next morning, she felt hurt and bruised in many places. The plasters on her eyes had been removed, and when she looked down, she could see that her breasts seemed to have come in for some particular attention. A thin white cord was tied tightly round the base of each mount, making its soft breast flesh bulge out through the bars. The trapped blood had made them purple, and there seemed to be fresh marks at her bruised nipples. Her mouth too smelled peculiar, and Sarah didn't like the taste left at the edge of her lips.The precious girl heaved a sigh and wondered when this nightmare would ever end. What had happened to her?
A little later, she was taken down and prepared so that when the van came, she was clean and ready to enter into the Cascade system.
5. The Cascade Step 1: Los Viente
At the top of the Cascade system was the club for the twenty most important men in the district - Los Viente. All members had to be at least 50 years old, and there were never more than 20 members in total. No one ever resigned or left, but when a member died, a replacement was chosen by ballot among the remaining members.
The clubhouse for Los Viente had originally been built as a stylish Spanish hacienda. The terracotta roof tiles and lush, watered gardens with cypress trees made a welcoming sight, inviting the members to come there to relax, do a little business, and have some fun.
Because Los Viente were the most powerful men in the district, their club sat at the top of the Cascade, and they were able to take first pick of the girls. Throughout the Cascade, the rule was always the same - a girl stayed for one month and was then passed on down to the next point in the Cascade. That way, there was always someone new and of interest, and very few problems.
When the van door opened to the servants' entrance at the back of the Clubhouse, a naked Sarah blinked as she emerged into the sunshine. Her first emotions were confusion and then hope because everything about her was so beautiful. She had suddenly arrived at a 5-star hotel.
The permanent staff at the Clubhouse was headed by La Senora, and it was she who opened the kitchen door to receive the new delivery. As she looked Sarah up and down to assess her potential, Sarah could see no signs of friendliness or welcome in her cold eyes. La Senora was all business, and she had seen many, many naked girls like Sarah arrive and go.
Apart from the permanent staff, there were 4 other girls in the Cascade system when Sarah arrived. One of them - Monica, a tall, slim girl from Germany - had been given the task of introducing Sarah to her new world and its rules. When Sarah was able to ask Monica how long she had been there, she said just over two weeks.
Following Monica, Sarah was shown the area where the 5 Cascade girls slept and was even able to enjoy a warm shower before donning her new uniform. It felt so good to be clean and nice-smelling again that Sarah's spirits lifted, and she became quite excited about her new position.
She still had no underwear, of course, and the uniform was a version of a French maid's uniform. The skirt was black and short, above her knees. The bib at the front was fixed to the skirt at the waist and at the top by ties that went round the back of her neck to Velcro together. That, of course, left her arms bare and the sides of her naked breasts very visible and accessible, and everything moved and swung naturally without restraint. And if a gentleman's hand were to travel up her thigh, he would find that there was nothing between his fingers and her snatch but clear air.
She had the most trouble with her shoes, as she had hardly ever worn heels before and was now expected to always be in 4-inch black heels. She steadied her balance and tried her very best.
Once Sarah had dressed, Monica sat with her on one of the beds and explained the rules of the house. Monica began by taking a black bangle and fastening it around Sarah's right ankle.
"This is your alarm bracelet, and you can never take it off. Only La Senora has the key to open it, so you will always wear it while you are here. Don't worry, it is quite light, and you will soon be used to it. But if you ever try to escape, the alarm will light up in the control hut, and the guards will come for you. And then they will kill you very painfully - understand?"
Sarah nodded, frightened to think of that threat hanging over the girls. She decided that she would never try to run away.
"There are 20 members, and they can come here at any time, but especially for dinner in the evening. Not all of them come every day, of course, so you will see maybe 8 or 10 gentlemen most evenings. In front of them, you will stand still and only look up into their faces when they speak to you. We call them all 'Sir,' so you don't have to remember their names or anything. Is that clear?"
Again, Sarah nodded to confirm that she understood and would obey.
"From 6 o'clock tonight and every night, you are on duty downstairs. We start by standing at the edge of the smoking room, ready and watching in case a member calls us over. When you are called, as I say, you go straight to the member and stand in front of him with your eyes down. Speak only when spoken to. But if he tells you to get him a whisky, for instance, you can say 'Yes, Sir' and then you fetch him his drink.
The members eat at 8 each night, so at that time, we follow the members into their dining room and we help as waitresses, making sure that they all have whatever they need.
The gentlemen can do absolutely anything they want with us - please understand. Anything at all. So if one of them takes you away for some private time, you will go with them and give him exactly what he wants. Understand?"
From her doubtful face, Monica could see that Sarah was struggling with this part of her instructions. Only two weeks earlier, she had been the same, but she had adjusted, and Sarah would adjust too.
"Don't worry too much, Sarah. The gentlemen are quite old, and most of them are quite nice. Just one or two that you need to be careful with - if they choose you."
"It is traditional that your first evening starts with the Commander. He is the senior member and must be nearly 90 years old. I will take you down, and you will have your photo taken with him for the record book. Don't worry, we have all been there.
Later during the meal, there will be a special initiation for you, but don't worry about that for now. I will tell you more about that later. Oh, one other rule you will need to understand. When we go down at 6 o'clock, your uniform will be on properly, and the halter bib will, of course, be up. But if one of the gentlemen decides to undo your halter and let the bib hang down to expose your tits, that is up to him, and you will leave the bib alone. You do not try to tie it up again but will stay like that for the rest of the night. OK?"
When Sarah was taken down to meet the Commander, she found him seated in his Study in a deep leather chair. He was looking through an open photo album, which seemed to consist entirely of naked girls sitting on his lap. Also in the room was a wooden tripod and a young cameraman ready to add Sarah to the Commander's collection.
Obedient to her instructions, Sarah stood in front of the old man with her eyes down and her hands close to her sides. Evidently, the Commander liked what he saw because his voice was warm and friendly to the young girl.
"Well, you are welcome, young lady. I gather your name is Sarah. So, Sarah, the first thing you need to do is to go over to my desk, slip out of your uniform, and come back here to have your photo taken for our little book." When Sarah looked at his chubby, lined face, she imagined that he was almost like a grandfather figure, and although it seemed a little strange to immediately take her clothes off for him, she did not really mind. He seemed quite nice.
Once out of her clothes, Sarah returned to the Commander, who drew her down to sit in his lap slightly to one side so that they would both be recorded in the official photo. The old gentleman's hand took up a position under her full left breast, cupping it out to the camera.
Two photos were quickly snapped, and the photographer asked for just one more, to make sure. At that moment, the Commander's wandering fingers decided to pinch Sarah's pert nipple hard, so that last photo caught the Commander's happy smile next to her open, startled mouth as she cried out in shock. That would probably be the one that they would stick into the Register, he thought.
The Commander told the cameraman to take his equipment and go and to send him the results the next day. Sarah was allowed to stand and to dress back again into her uniform. When she next stood meekly in front of the Commander, he had risen from his chair and pinned her official name tag to the front of her bib. 'Sarah'. She was in.
Soon afterwards, Sarah was on duty for the first time in the smoking room near a window and with her back to velvet curtains. Seven members had arrived to join the Commander that evening, so they would be eight for the meal. Sarah tried her best to watch out in case any of the men signaled to her for attention while at the same time remaining demure and unobtrusive at the edge of the room.
She quickly saw that when a member wanted one of the girls, he looked at her while raising a finger for her to see. And then the girl responded at once. Four of the members called Sarah over and told her to fetch them a drink or whatever they needed. She smiled prettily and tried not to wince when their hands slid in to pinch her bottom or to have a quick feel of her breasts. And she felt that she was learning how to move in her new heels.
The gentlemen members were close friends and used their meetings at the Club to keep in touch, do deals together, and to arrange matters like weddings between their families. They were busy with each other, and the girls were not the centre of attention. Sarah relaxed a little as she could see that the five Cascade maids in their uniforms were handling their needs well. And at least none of the old gentlemen had pulled her bib down.
As the members began to move towards the dining room to begin their meal, Monica nudged Sarah and took her aside.It was only then that Sarah remembered that she had warned her upstairs that there was to be some sort of initiation for her.
"All new girls have to go through a test on their first evening, and tonight it is your turn. If you refuse to go through with it or fail the test in any way, then you will be punished - severely. So the best thing to do is just to get on and do it, as we all have done."
Sarah nodded and waited, wondering what it was she had to do.
"The gentlemen will be seated round the table, and as soon as the pudding course has been served to everyone, you go into action. The Commander will be seated at the head of the table as the senior member, and you start with him and go round all the members clockwise, each in turn.
Basically, you go under the table and crawl to the Commander. You start by putting your hand and placing it firmly onto his crotch, so he knows you are there. If he will allow you to give him a blow job, he will signal that by opening his legs to give you access. If any member isn't in the mood, he will keep his legs together, and you move on to the next member.
As soon as their legs are open, you reach in and undo them to the point when you can free up their cock, and then you give them oral sex until they come. Once they have come, you swallow it down, lick them clean, replace them into their trousers, and do them up tidily before moving on to the next member. Is that clear?"
Sarah was panicking. "But I've never done any of that before. Brad wanted to, but I just wouldn't let him. Oh God. I don't think I know how I will manage."
The helpless girl felt as if she would burst into tears at any moment. She was overwhelmed, but the threat of failing and being punished made her extremely frightened. But fortunately, Monica was prepared to look after her.
"Don't worry too much. They won't expect perfection the first time. They know that you have only just arrived," she smiled kindly at Sarah, trying to encourage her.
"I'll give you a routine to follow for tonight. Then you will be able to handle it fine. Start by concentrating on getting their cocks out, free of their clothing. You might have to undo their belt as well as their zip, but make sure that you check that they are completely free of the clothing before you start.
The next thing to do is to reach out with your left hand and make a ring around the base of their cock with your fingers and squeeze. Some cocks you will find are ready, and some are still not. It doesn't matter. Make that first ring with your left hand, and as the blood comes in, it will keep them firm and help keep them out of your throat.
As soon as that ring is there, lean in and take as much of their cock in your mouth as you can. Don't do anything like sucking or blowing. Just make that cock as warm as you can. Gentle movements are fine, and you should move your tongue softly over and around the cock as much as you can. You are welcoming it in, and pretty soon you will find that their cock is hard and ready and wet.
Still keep your tongue licking and feeling, and start into slow strokes with your whole mouth and lips right up and down as much of his cock as you can manage. Keep that left hand tight round the base of his cock and squeeze a little more. He will let you know when he is getting ready to come, and at that stage, things will go a little faster, but just go with it. When he comes, swallow hard and concentrate on keeping the head of his cock warm and wet until you feel that it is shrinking out of your mouth. Only then lick it clean, especially around its head, and put it carefully away. I know that is a lot to learn, but believe me, in a week you will be a professional."
She winked at Sarah and walked away, leaving the American girl to wait for her big moment.
Maybe she was imagining it, but Sarah felt that more of the members at the table were now noticing her and looking at her. They didn't call her over, but just checked her out, knowing what was coming.
The soup had come and gone, and so had the main dish of fish with vegetables, and Sarah again began to feel panic as the plates of lemon tart were handed around. When the eighth place had been presented, she knew that her moment had arrived. She would either run away, and they would catch her and punish her, or she would slip under the table and follow Monica's instructions.
Glancing at Monica, she saw the German girl nod and indicate the table with her eyes. Gulping, Sarah went down on her knees and crawled under the tablecloth to disappear from sight.
As the table was designed to seat all 20 members on nights when Los Viente were present, there was plenty of room tonight to find her way towards the Commander's seat. All around her, she could only see the laps, legs, and shoes of the members as they ate above her, waiting for her attentions.
Nervously, Sarah placed her hand as instructed onto the bulge at the centre of the Commander's lap and pressed down slightly. Even that seemed like a revolting step too far. But when the Commander's grey trouser legs parted in response, Sarah did not hesitate but went into action.
When she sat with Monica that night to debrief, Sarah told her that after the first three times, it had not been so bad. In a way, it had helped that she could not see their faces, just their bottom halves. That made it anonymous. And they had not grabbed at her or made it difficult for her in any way - just allowed her access so that she could help herself. In a way, Sarah was proud of herself.
As it was her first night, Sarah was also introduced to the weekly red pills that she had now to swallow, which would make sure that she was not pregnant - at least until someone in charge wanted her to be pregnant. Again, as usual, Sarah complied.
And so she settled in to her new life at the Club. Sarah got to know the other Cascade girls too, but Monica became her special friend, and if there was anything that Sarah needed to discuss or share, she went to Monica for support.
Occasionally, one or more members would visit during the daytime, and sometimes that was to look for entertainment from the girls. But the important time, every day, was the evening from 6 pm onwards when all the girls were on duty.
Most of the gentlemen were friendly and easy enough, even if their hands strayed. Sarah would close her eyes when they pulled her to them and kissed them, trying to ignore their tongues if they invaded her mouth. But it was not too bad.
There was only one member, a short dark man with a little goatee beard, that seemed intent on causing Sarah trouble. She could tell that he watched her more than the other girls and hurt her more than anyone else. Once in the smoking room, he called Sarah over, dropped a pen deliberately, and asked her to pick it up for him. As soon as she had bent over in front of him, she felt his fingers grab at her naked cunt, and he forced his thumb right into her. And he was always pinching her nipples.
In fact, the only two evenings in Sarah's first fortnight that she spent with her bib down in front of everyone, breasts hanging out, it had been that bearded member who had pulled her bib free. Sarah tried to do her best to avoid him, but it was not always possible.
And there came a morning when Sarah was called down and found that her troublesome gentleman had arrived especially to spend time with her. He had a wicked smile on his face, and his right hand was swishing a dangerous-looking cane. Blushing, Sarah knew that there was nothing that she could do and followed him as he led her to one of the private bedrooms.
Sarah was soon bent over the back of a chair, her skirt flipped up, and her rear end exposed and ready for punishment. Her hands gripped the chair legs tightly. And the gentleman member who didn't seem to like her began to thrash her. Pausing to relish each stroke of his whippy cane, he gave her six strokes, three on each cheek of her extended rear.
Breathing heavily, her tormentor gestured at her with his whip. "That is better. You have been a bad girl, and you needed to be punished. Now come here so that you can be spanked."
The small dark gentleman seated himself into a comfortable open chair and arranged Sarah as he wished so that she lay out across his open lap. Her head was to his left, her halter ties open so that her bib dangled straight down, leaving her breasts near to his left hand. And to his right, her skirt was flipped up over her waist, leaving her pink rear nicely placed for his right hand.
"Now, girl, I want you to tuck your right hand under you and start playing with yourself. All the time I am spanking you, you will be working to make yourself come, and I shall only stop when I see that you have come, big time. If you fake it, I shall know when I check to see how wet you are. And if you don't come big enough, you will just have to keep on diddling until you do better, and I shall enjoy spanking you some more. Am I clear?"
Sarah dutifully pushed her right hand down between the skin of her waist and his trousers so that two fingers could reach her lips and hesitantly began to stroke herself.
Content with the arrangement spread out in front of him like a keyboard, the gentleman's left hand closed onto her breast even as the first smack came down on her rear. He was enjoying himself immensely and set into a rhythm of pulling hard on her nipple or pinching tightly between each smack. Sarah was very distracted by this painful alternating between pinch and pain, pinch and pain, but knew that the only way to bring it to an end was to forget it and make herself come big time.
For many minutes, she was almost dry, and she did not feel that she could pull out her hand to lubricate herself at all with her saliva. So she had to wince and continue until she could get her body's full attention.Rubbing and stroking, she began to get there, and as the gentleman noticed her rising breathing and stronger movements, he in turn smacked and pulled harder so that pleasure and pain mixed hopelessly in Sarah as she struggled towards the edge of release.
When she finally managed to come, Sarah did not have to fake it, calling out loudly, and it was obvious to her and to her gentleman that she had performed as requested. With a sigh of deep satisfaction, the little dark man gave her one final resounding smack and leaned back into the chair to savor the pleasures of his life.
But he was an exception. The rest of her gentleman members made demands on her and took advantage of her, but their demands were usually light and easy, and it was not so difficult just to close her eyes and respond to where they were taking her. She even began not to mind so much when they stuck their tongues into her mouth.
And Sarah hardly noticed as the Cascade girls came and went. Four days after Sarah had arrived, a new redheaded girl with a French accent arrived, and Sarah had the strange experience of standing at the edge of the dining room watching as the new girl took her turn to crawl under the tablecloth of her first evening.
It hardly mattered when one or other of the other Cascade girls disappeared, but it left a large hole when, two weeks after she had arrived, Monica came to say goodbye. And it was then, seated on a bed in their room with Monica, that Sarah really first came to understand her future in the Cascade.
"Don't worry," Monica said, stroking Sarah's soft blonde hair. "You'll be fine. And I will see you soon anyway at the next place, in two weeks' time."
"The next place?" queried Sarah.
"Yes, that is how it works. Everyone only stays here for a month, and then moves on. We are never told what the next place is like, but we all go to the same place, stay for a month, and then go on again, and so it goes. Hopefully, it will be good, like here - but in any case, I will be there ahead of you each time and can give you some tips! So you will be looked after."
And they hugged and shared a kiss, and then she was gone, and Sarah began to pay more attention to the days slipping by as the countdown to the end of her month at Los Viente Clubhouse continued.
Two days before her month was up, La Senora measured her carefully. She was going to need a new uniform wherever she was going.
6. The Cascade Step 2: Los Lobos Island
And it was quite a change for Sarah when the time came to leave Los Viente. La Senora supervised the removal of her alarm bracelet and took back her everyday maid's uniform. In its place, as Sarah was guided out through the back kitchen door again and into the transfer van, the blonde girl walked out in a revealing pale blue bikini and open sandals.
The second stage in the Cascade was run by and for the young men on the way up, Los Lobos. This time there was a maximum of thirty members, all aged from 20 to 40. Many had fathers in Los Viente, and almost all hoped that they would be elected into the ruling group as the vacancies came up, once they had reached 50. But not all would make it. Compared to the quiet authority of Los Viente and its Clubhouse, Los Lobos was far more energetic, competitive, and noisy. There was testosterone to spare, and the young men had their needs.
Los Lobos owned a small island off the coast, and it was a place that any of the young members could come to relax and party. Some would come for a week's break, others for just a night away from home and office, but it was an easy boat ride away and free once you were a member.
There was a main base complex at the center of the island, with pools, gym, spa, restaurants, and bars. And around that were a series of straw-covered beach bungalows that were allocated on arrival.
Sarah again saw nothing of her journey from inside the closed van and so had no idea where exactly she had been taken. Even the short boat ride was made within the closed van as it was driven onto the boat and was only opened when it drove up to the rear access to the complex.
Stepping out in her blue bikini, Sarah again felt her spirits lift. After surviving her month at the Clubhouse, she was sure that she could do well here, no matter what the rules were. And it certainly looked very pretty.
Once inside, she was given a big welcome by Monica, who had volunteered to take care of Sarah and settle her in. So the two girls were able to have a quick chat and exchanged stories. Monica reassured Sarah that it would be OK in Los Lobos. "The pace is quicker, and we are much more in demand here, so you will be exhausted, but keep smiling, and it will be fun. You'll see!"
"And there is no initiation here, so you won't be crawling under any tables looking at old men's laps!"
Sarah laughed with her and again was sure that everything was now going to be alright.
Monica told her that there was a duty rota for the Cascade girls, and Sarah's first duty for the rest of that day was as a pool girl. Monica helped her to the pool, which was in full sunshine, surrounded by loungers and its own bar area. Sarah recognized the girl in the water as Jane, another Cascade girl that she had known a little at the last place. She waved, and Jane swam towards them. It was only as she emerged from the water that Sarah saw that Jane had bare breasts and that her legs were formed together as a mermaid.
It was Sarah's turn to replace Jane and take over for her shift as the new pool mermaid for that evening. So Sarah slipped out of her new bikini, and Monica and Jane together helped to show her how to place her legs together and then clamp the fish tail rubber pieces around them. From the knees downwards, she flowed out into one large rubber fin. Monica offered to drop Sarah's blue bikini back to their room until she needed it again, and away she went with Jane, leaving Sarah to slip into the water.
She had received no specific instructions, but felt sure that what she needed to do was to get used to swimming with her new tail and wait for someone to let her know that she was needed.
It didn't take long before she had been called over by two young men at the bar alongside the pool, and a few minutes after that, she was stretched out on the pool edge on her back while the laughing young men drank shots from her belly button.
Reaching an ice cube from the bar, one of the young men began rubbing the freezing cube back and forth across her nipple until the sharp cold made it swell and stand proud - at which point it promptly got bitten for its trouble.
Her two young clients were very drunk, and when the one attacking her nipple tried to make better contact, they both ended up rolling into the pool, face to face. He was trying to kiss her and grabbing at her breast while Sarah was doing her best to get some air and breathe.
When she surfaced gasping, right in front of her face was the other boy, now sitting at the edge of the pool by the bar, his feet in the water. In front of her eyes was his erect member asking for attention, and his trunks were nowhere to be seen. Well-trained now, Sarah did not hesitate but leaned forward and formed the ring with her left hand. Her mouth followed.
Behind her, the second boy was scrabbling to come to grips with her from behind. Sarah was unsure what a mermaid actually could offer gentlemen visitors, but instinctively, her legs floated upwards to make a right angle of her waist and possibly to offer the best chance for her drunken suitor. There was definitely no way she could open her legs.
And that seemed to be a fair introduction to the drunken, noisy life on the island. Pretty well everything happened out of doors - there was loud music, barbecues, bars everywhere, and plenty going on. For a young 19-year-old like Sarah, even though she had been brought up strictly, it all seemed quite exciting.
She saw that each of the Cascade girls wore a different colored bikini here - when they actually had any clothes on. So Sarah quickly became used to being called Blue Girl. Whereas the Cascade girls' rooms had been upstairs at the Clubhouse, here they all shared one big open straw-roofed hut without sides, close to the kitchens and main bar area. They slept in hammocks and were always on call, at any time night or day.
Sarah also realized that the younger men at Los Lobos made stronger demands than the older gentlemen at the Club. There were usually 12 or so members around at the island looking to enjoy themselves, and as far as Sarah could see, each of them expected to have sex in one way or another at least 3 times a day. Maybe they just stored it up so that they could celebrate harder when they got here, she wondered. But with only 6 Cascade girls, the math said that you were likely to have to put out at least 6 times a day on average.
And of course, the youthful Lobos wanted to display their macho energy with vigorous displays of thrusting and noisy effort, lasting as long as possible to impress their rivals. And they seemed to want to bend the poor girl into strange positions and especially made sure that they penetrated as hard as possible in her anus and down her throat. It was almost as if cunts were going out of fashion on the island.
So, Sarah was sore and tired most of the time.
Sarah discussed running away with one of the other Cascade girls, but was told that it was suicide. The sharks and the strong currents would make it impossible for her to swim for the nearest shore, and all boats leaving the island were checked carefully for stowaways. So here she would have to stay until her time was up.
She was given two duty periods each day from the rota, and for the rest of the time, she had to take up her position in front of their sleeping hut, spread out appealingly on a sun lounger, waiting for customers.Above the sun loungers, two signs had been nailed up. One said "Available" in large letters, and the other said "We always say YES!" At least the girls were able to get some tanning while they waited.
Spa duty was one that Sarah began to look forward to. She simply had to wait in the hot tub in her bikini and look after any young men that visited. Almost always, the bikini was abandoned very quickly as she soaped, massaged, and provided relief. But she was allowed to replace it whenever the spa was empty again. And there were quiet gaps when she had the place to herself, enjoying the bubbling hot tub.
Occasionally, she was chosen for topless volleyball too - or "Bouncing Boobies" as the men seemed to have decided to call it. She noticed that only the Cascade girls who were well-endowed in the upper department were chosen, and somewhere deep inside her, Sarah secretly felt proud that she had been picked, even if she couldn't play very well and often ended up in the sand.
In the evenings, after a day of drinking and sunshine, there was a dangerous feeling that things could get a little out of hand. Sometimes there might be a fight between two rivals, but often the riotous energy was deflected onto the Cascade girls on offer.
The second evening that Sarah spent on the island, she went to see what some shouting meant and found a noisy group of young men circled around Monica and one of the other girls. One of the men must have brought a double-ended dildo with him - large and black, as far as Sarah could see. And Monica and her partner held one end each in their closely joined snatches and, by clenching their muscles tightly onto the monster, were doing their best to pump it into each other. That one ended with beers being poured all over the exhausted girls as they collapsed on the ground. Sarah shivered and was glad that she had not been chosen.
Two nights later, as darkness fell, all the girls were sent out as the quarry on a night hunt. They were fitted with bracelets of small tinkling bells on their ankles, so that they would give away their position every time they moved. And off they went in different directions.
Sarah tried to run, tried to find good places to hide, and tried not to panic at being out alone among the strange noises of the night. What might there be waiting for them on the island away from the club area, she wondered. In the end, she was caught 4 times and fucked 4 times by different hunters. Each hunter had their own small spray cans and sprayed their personal mark on her skin when they had come, so that a count could be made when all the girls returned to see who had won and who had lost.
When the girls staggered back into the light once a bell had been rung out to announce that the hunt was over, the spray patches were counted, and it was found that Sarah had lost. No other girl had more than 4 patches. Which meant that the next night she would have to pay a penalty.
No one would give Sarah any clues as to what her penalty would be, but she was told to present herself at the main bar the next evening at 7 pm. What she found was a frame that looked as if it had been well used many times, so must be a regular feature at the Club. The wooden frame was basically designed to hold and display a naked girl so that all 3 of her openings were all available at the same time. As a bonus, her breasts would be dangling down and within reach no matter which end you approached. And it was not long before Sarah was again naked and fastened tightly over the frame, her raised rear end on one side and lifted head and mouth, all usefully waist-high. She wondered if there was a lever or electric hoist somewhere in case the men were short or very tall and giggled to herself.
But despite the obvious attraction of the displayed blonde girl, the evening was actually about a poker tournament. Near the frame was set up the poker table, and ten members of Los Lobos gathered around it to take part in the tournament, ready with their piles of colored chips.
It was to be a game of poker with prizes and forfeits. At the end of every 3 hands, the tally of chips was taken, and the winner of that set won a prize - which was always Sarah. First, he had to down a large shot, and then he could plunge into any of her three open opportunities.
If a winner was unwilling or unable to fuck her, he still had to drink the shot but could offer the sex to anyone else at the table for 3 red chips. And so the evening would even out as the early winners would cloud their minds with shots and tire themselves out with too much sex. Or that was the theory. As far as Sarah was concerned, it was just another evening of offering herself and smiling.
Without really seeing it happen, Sarah was now getting used to obeying any man, giving them whatever they wanted at once without hesitation. And she was also getting very used to being fucked in any of her three holes right through the day and night by whoever came past. Her values were inevitably changing.
A cloud crossed Sarah's sunny life on the island when it came to the time when Monica would move on down the Cascade to the next stop. But they made a cheerful goodbye, kissing each other and saying that they would see each other soon at wherever they were taken to next.
The days on the island passed easily enough, and there was only one further twist in the tail for Sarah to deal with. The evening before last, a new group of drunken members started a friendly argument late in the evening over whether or not a girl would still get drunk if she drank with her lower lips. They decided to put it to the test there and then, and Sarah was unlucky enough to be grabbed as the volunteer victim.
Strung upside down by one tied leg, Sarah's other leg tended to fall away to leave a very open access to her snatch. And for half an hour, there was the neck of a bottle of rum pushed down into it. From time to time, one of the group would pump the bottle a little to make sure that as much alcohol as possible was flowing into the young blonde's inner tubes. And certainly, more than one full bottle disappeared down her - though some spilled down her waist, of course.
When Sarah was cut down and released, the drunken gang put her to the test, pushing her from one to another, shouting that she should try harder to walk straight. But Sarah's staggering efforts and lurches proved the point for sure. Girls could get drunk that way too. The next morning brought a super strong headache for Sarah, but she borrowed some tablets and luckily had been given an easy morning down at the Spa.
And when Sarah woke up the next morning after that, her time at Los Lobos had ended. She handed back her bikini and instead was given a denim shift with short sleeves to wear. And then it was into the back of the van and off on the next stage of her journey down the Cascade.
7. The Cascade Step 3: Into the Jungle
Sarah did not know it, but she was on the way to the jungle headquarters of the greatest drug baron in the area, usually known as El Condor because of the profile of his nose and sharp eyes. It could not be more different from the sunny, exuberant noise of Los Lobos island. Sarah arrived in silent darkness broken only by the chirping of insects and was locked into a solitary cell without any welcome. And there was no sign of any of the other Cascade girls or Monica. But the young girl was exhausted from her long journey in the back of the van and fell asleep easily on the mattress on the floor of her cell.
There was a link between El Condor and the Commander which was difficult for other people to understand. A secretive link built on mutual respect and recognition. El Condor never challenged the Commander's dominance in his area, and in return, El Condor was very much left alone by the authorities even though everyone knew exactly where he was.
El Condor knew that his life had been a great success so far. He had inherited a modest business from his father and built it into a global monster. By understanding the needs of his clients, he had made more money than he needed, and his reserves were probably greater than the reserves of Texas. But his restless ambition was now looking to develop new opportunities.
The drug baron had first identified robotics and automatons as an area of great potential. He had always loved movies about robots, and when a motor factory failed elsewhere in Mexico, he was able to buy the complete Japanese production line for very little. And he had then head-hunted a core team of three specialists in automation from Disney by tripling their salaries and meeting all their other daily needs.
After deciding that it was too early yet to bring in DNA modification work, instead, El Condor built a second team of chemists and bio-chemists to work in other ways on human improvement. But for both teams, experiments needed to be carried out. Results had to be repeated and checked, and for that, subjects were needed. So from time to time, his friend the Commander sent him down one of the Cascade girls as a friendship gift. The Commander knew that she would be sent back into the Cascade a month later after her step aside and that her value would probably have increased dramatically from her time in the jungle.
A silent guard woke Sarah the next morning with a bowl of food and some water to drink. When she had cleaned the bowl, he pointed to the toilet and even stood at the door looking outside to provide her with a little privacy. But he would not speak to her or answer any of her questions. And as soon as he returned back into her room, without any warning, the guard thrust a needle into her arm and pressed down the plunger. Sarah collapsed.
As the young blonde struggled back into consciousness and opened her eyes, the first shock was that she was surrounded by slanted-eyed aliens all staring down at her.The second shock was to realize that she could not move. She was bound tight on an operating table and must have been abducted. Sarah screamed in panic.
It was certainly true that Sarah was bound tightly to an operating table. Thick straps crossed under her neck, at her waist and over her hips. Her arms were firmly caught and held down the sides of her body. Her legs were open and somehow attached to the corners of the table. And there were vertical plates or clamps either side of her head too which made it impossible for the girl to turn her head in the slightest. Finally, something pressed down on her forehead and so she couldn't lift her head either. She was fixed firmly and at their mercy.
But they weren't aliens. El Condor's instructions to give the medical robots alien heads had been one of his earliest ideas, and always afterwards as the prototypes developed, they had been made to look like aliens. For the moment, they could move their heads, their eyes lit up, and they would chatter to each other in their own high-pitched language that sounded a little like small bells. Everything would continue to develop and improve. But the working arms were pure robot.
Perhaps they had done something to wake the girl because as soon as Sarah had opened her eyes and screamed, the high chatter started and the robots went into action. An arm pressed a button and a red laser light shone out below Sarah's feet and began to travel slowly and steadily up the girl. Sarah could not see the light until it crossed over her face, making her blink. The young girl's body was being scanned and mapped. The recording would be stored as the 'before' image so that it could later be compared against the 'after' image when all the medical work had been done.
There was no one in a booth operating these medical robots. El Condor's instructions were that they had to be entirely self-controlled. That would open up more commercial opportunities than if they depended on skilled operators who would make demands and need to be paid.
The operations that day were to be all about enlargement and modification. The separate bio-chemical team had developed some fifth-generation silicon gel which gave great possibilities. It flowed easily, even into small places, bonded perfectly and expanded as it absorbed warmth from human flesh. A little like expanding foam filler that can be pumped into cavities. And as far as anyone could tell, the gel was perfectly accepted by the defense systems in the subjects.
Sarah did not know it, but she was fortunate not to have been coming through the jungle operating theatre a year or two before in the earliest days, when the majority of results were damaging failures that had to be disposed of.
And because the robots were self-operating, the first arms that started out on each procedure were designed to feel and locate precisely. Only when the correct exact target had been identified and captured would the operating arms move. And the first thin arm that moved over Sarah's trapped face was looking for her mouth.
Tiny, fine tendrils swept lightly across Sarah's face. On her skin, it felt like wind blowing lightly over her, though she closed her eyes quickly when the tendrils checked the position of her eyes. Having mapped the shape of her face, the tendrils were replaced by new slightly firmer feelers which seemed to start at her nose and then feel down towards her mouth.
With little pushing movements, the feelers quickly traced out the young girl's lips and began to feel past the edges into the moist mouth. Another arm acted on this information, and two slightly larger pins descended and pushed down and slightly into her mouth, each one at the very end of her mouth. By pressing outwards, the girl's mouth was identified and secured slightly open.
It was El Condor's personal belief that women's mouths should always remind you of their cunts. To be more precise, should remind you of their puffed up, wet and excited, slightly open cunts. And that had been his design instruction to the robot team - as far as mouths were concerned.
So, towards this end, the next robot to engage with Sarah's mouth moved directly towards her and began to inject tiny needles into her lips. The needles were in a group of three, and the whole group was only a centimeter across, so she felt that she was being pricked over and over again as the arm worked across first her upper lip and then the outer edge of her lower lip. And from each of the fine needles, the super gel streamed in and began its plumping work.
Expansion and bonding as the gel linked together and responded to her warm flesh took about thirty seconds before it was set. From above, it looked as if Sarah's lips were being blown up into a pert pout.
The tiny pains had not been too hard to take, and all Sarah could feel from her mouth area was a slightly strange feeling as if she had been stung. But she was definitely feeling everything. These aliens did not believe in operating with anesthetic.
When the work on her mouth was complete, the robot hand withdrew, and from the bottom of her vision, Sarah could see new tendrils arriving, this time to scout out her breasts. A light tickling was her sign that this was to be the next area for alien modification.
The first breast to be mapped by the tendrils was her left one, and once it had been located, the robotic arms focused on her left nipple.
Once placed and identified, a glass tube descended and settled around the fleshy centre. A sharp application of industrial vacuum pressure, and suddenly the nipple was an inch long and disappearing up the tube with all of the aureole and the edges of breast flesh. The robots kept up the pressure for a few minutes, and then just as the vacuum tube withdrew a few inches, in swooped some clips to continue the extreme nipple stretch, and milliseconds later, the silicon injection from the side. While under over maximum extension, her nipple was filled with silicon boosting so that in the future, it would be a spectacular feature. And then Sarah's right breast was given the same treatment.
El Condor had not given specific instructions on his ideas for perfect breasts, but he had passed over two Playboy photos that had made a great impression on his youth. They showed a line for a standing woman that went straight out from her chest to her nipple and then curved round interestingly back to the chest, that was his suggestion. And as far as possible, that was the inspiration for the robotic team.
So, after her nipples had been treated, the robotic arms pushed up each breast in turn, and larger needles this time worked their silicon magic. From her usual C verging on D, Sarah was now on the way to something like an EE or more. And that was only after the first treatment.
And after that, the robotic arms moved on down to their final tasks of the session, and again, sharp little needles injected more of the silicon magic all the way round the edge of her outer lips and then deep into her clit.
All initial targets had been met, and Sarah was allowed almost a full day's drugged sleep to recover before she was taken to the bio-chemists to have their turn with her.
El Condor's brief to the bio-chemical team had led to the group being split into two for the moment. One team had the task of increasing sensitivity in their subjects. They were to analyze how pleasure was triggered and experienced and then ramp it up. El Condor could see the commercial applications of offering this treatment to those who wished their women would be easier to arouse or directly to the women themselves wanting to feel more and come sooner.
The second bio-chemical team was tasked with lactation. They had the simpler task of analyzing what signals were sent early on in pregnancy to instruct breasts to prepare by filling with milk. That team had to find ways of turning on that signal even without pregnancy for those who preferred their women's breasts to be full of milk.
Each team had their turn with Sarah as their specimen. And at least the chemical teams looked like Asian men in white coats rather than alien robots.
The first team had Sarah in their laboratory the next morning, and the second team took over in the afternoon. There was a little rivalry between the two teams, which reflected the bonuses on offer from El Condor for successful results. At the moment, the lactation team were ahead with pretty reliable results while the sensation team were trying that much harder to catch up.
For Sarah, it made little difference as she spent another day tied down on her back while strange men did things to her. The morning was all about opiates and strange chemicals rubbed or injected into her most sensitive places and twice having thin wires or probes surgically inserted and then pulsing with shocks to stimulate hidden receptors.
The afternoon was more about injections of chemicals deep into her newly enlarged breasts or channeled up into her womb area. But in either case, strong chemicals began to run through the young blonde's body and began to take her in new directions.
The next day, she was allowed a full day of rest, which was spent in a drug-induced haze as the guard injected her with opiates every two hours. It gave her body time to absorb and readjust to its new set of instructions.
And the following day, she was taken again to the alien operating table for a second session of modification. This again began with the red laser beam mapping her outline so that it could be compared both with her starting shape and with the target that the robot team were programmed to work towards. And then the arms swung into operation to enlarge everything to the next level.And that was followed by two more sessions with the bio-chemical teams, so that Sarah hardly knew where she was anymore and wondered what she now looked like - if only she had access to a mirror - by the time the operations were complete.
There was also an operation to remove her gag reflex, making it easier for the young girl to deal with aggressive thrusts down her throat. While her throat was lit up by a camera at the end of a fine wire, small probes were touched against the walls of her throat until the doctors had mapped out the full range of the receptors that triggered her gag response. Then, lasers were applied to lightly burn and scar the internal skin in that area of her throat so that in the future, there would be no reaction at all if anything touched her there. This would be checked again at the following session, where further scarring could be applied if needed.
She realized that she was lonely for company in her jungle cell. The contrast with the boisterous noise of Los Lobos island was just too much for her to adjust to. So when one of the guards began to visit her cell in the evening with bottles of beer, she hardly objected to meeting his demands on her young body. She was glad to be able to touch a real person.
But the jungle had a further project waiting that needed her help.
El Condor had early on noticed the mass appeal of computer gaming. He himself was not a fan of computer-generated imagery and was convinced that the future lay with photographing reality. Or rather, reality viewed on a screen.
His robotics team had already developed two applications which were at the test stage, and Sarah would be subjected to both of them. Each of them was controlled indoors in one of El Condor's mansion rooms, where there were giant plasma screens, large speakers, and control panels covered with interesting lights, knobs, and switches. Sarah, as the target, would be outside in the jungle, but everything would be on screen. The area on the left was provisionally titled "Robot Fun."
Robot Fun had been developed almost as a hobby by the geeks on the robotics team, who automatically discussed the potential links between computer gaming and sex. And it was the geeks who played with and enjoyed testing out the prototype that evening.
In its sleep mode, the large screen showed a robot modeled on the Terminator, crouched and waiting. Behind him were dark curtains. As soon as one of the geeks pressed the start button, the Terminator came to life, stood tall, and turned to grin at his controller, red eyes lit up and steel teeth flashing. Some seconds later, the curtains rolled back to reveal a frightened Sarah strapped into yet another restraint chair, everything on offer and her legs open to the wind.
The top panel of the control area in front of the geeks was now flashing with an option "Play Tits?" So, to ensure everything was fully tested as usual, the young geek selected "Play." The camera view immediately changed to show a round cross-haired target, and when the geek seized the joystick and pressed forward, the view zoomed in.
To make it not totally easy to capture the target's nipples, the program now started to make Sarah's chair jiggle from side to side in small random shakes. This, of course, made her target globes, now wonderfully enlarged, wobble and shake interestingly.
Zooming and tracking, the geek controller centered her left nipple in the cross-hairs and pressed down on the button on the top of the joystick. Out flew a wired-toothed grab, but by the time it had reached the flesh, Sarah's pink target had moved sideways, and the grab slid off her breast and automatically was retrieved. At the third shot, the geek made a capture, and the micro-sensitive grab latched tightly around the proud fleshy stalk, its tiny teeth taking firm hold. Of course, this was much easier now that the gel had done its work, but it still left the geek with a sense of success.
The game automatically moved him over to play at the capture of her remaining nipple, and soon both nips were tightly held by closed grabs linked by wires back towards the geek. He could then press the "Capture" button lit up and flashing in front of him. A two-stage process then rolled out. First, as the grabs pulled firmly to tension the nipples towards the geek, smaller rubber cups descended down the wire, which would apply suction to her peaks. And as soon as the cups had formed their seals around both aureoles, larger steel outer plates descended to encase her complete breasts and, by sliding the plates over each other, adjusted to compress and squeeze her tightly.
Locked in place, the "Capture" light went off, and a final light in the top panel came on - "Pump." When the geek hit it, the suction machinery and squeezing mechanisms went into action, alternating from one breast to the other. Sarah's newly enlarged tits were being put to an extreme test to make sure that nothing split or burst. There was a dial to turn the pressure up or down, but the geeks knew that almost all boys playing this future game would leave the dial maxed out, and so that was how the dial was left. The trapped girl screamed again as she felt as if each breast in turn was being sucked and pulled right out of her chest. But the geeks could not hear, as they had the sound turned off.
With the testing of the upper section of the control board complete, the geeks moved down to the main part. Pressing the power button lit up "Select Tool," and underneath, 5 smaller buttons lit up marked 1 to 5. On the screen, the Terminator grinned again and faced the geeks. Anyone glancing down at the robot's lower areas would see that he had been sculpted with spectacular testicles that a prize bull would have been proud of. But above the sac was a round screw hole that presently was empty.
Four shining steel rods and one of hard rubber covered with nodules were set out near the robot - numbers 1 to 5. Number 1 had been designed as the longest but thinnest rod, and as the rods grew shorter, they also grew fatter, so that by the time you reached the rubber number 5, it was thick, fat, and stubby.
The design of the robot dicks improved on human equipment in many ways. At the point of each rod, there was still a central hole from which ejaculate would jet at the right moment. But that central hole also hid the camera that would be part of the guidance system and also give the geeks a special view of any internal action.
And around the central hole, there were six finer spray holes for lubricant, which could be activated at any time to ease the rod into its target flesh.
Because it was going to be a full test, the geek hit the Number 1 button. Might as well work through them in turn. Immediately, the Terminator robot reached out an arm to collect the thin long tool and screwed it into the waiting groin hole. He was equipped for action and rotated round so that he was now facing Sarah.
As soon as the Number 1 tool had been fully engaged, a large central area on the control panel switched into camera view from the end of the No. 1 tool. The next challenge was to bring everything into alignment so that the robot could start to have its fun.
This was done with two joysticks. The left-hand joystick had complete 360-degree control of Sarah tied in her chair. The robot and his steel erection stayed still, and the left joystick maneuvered her lower lips towards it. The right joystick controlled the tool. As soon as you began to press forward on the second joystick, the steel tool started to move in a determined forward and backward sliding action. And the harder you pressed the right joystick down, the faster the sliding action. The red button on the top of the right joystick, of course, launched the robot's ejaculation.
What the geeks had found with earlier experimental candidates was that the most successful mating technique at this stage was to lightly press the right joystick forward, so that the steel tool was merely moving six inches or so forwards and backwards, quite slowly. Then, leaving the right joystick alone, the geek controller could pay full attention to the left joystick, the image on the screen sent from the front camera in the tool, and gradually female and male could be mated.
As the tip of the tool began to touch the center of Sarah's now enlarged front lips in its forward movement, the geek pressed the Lubricate button, and fine slippery oil was sprayed in bursts at all the flesh directly ahead of the tool. And as the oil spray continued to do its work, the screen image was now alternating between a close-up of her lips at her moist entrance and images of her inner channel as the tip of the probe slid firmly through her defenses to claim its prize.
The geek pressed the button on the top of the left joystick, which locked down Sarah's chair in that exact precise position, and moved slightly over in his chair to pay full attention to the right joystick, which he now pressed firmly away from him. The steel tool sprang into life, and the camera view now showed it pumping its way deep into the young blonde's tubes. The back thrust brought the tip to the edge of leaving her insides, while the forward thrust was heading firmly for her cervix. The geek sprayed in a little more lubricant oil and admired the way that the camera lit up Sarah's clutching muscles struggled to contain the invader.
No. 1 was designed as the fastest tool, and with the joystick pressed absolutely as far forward as it could go, the geek was pleased to see the speed with which it plunged furiously in and out of her. It crossed his mind that it must now be generating quite some heat from the friction, and he sprayed again. But all was in order, so he hit the red button and smiled happily as bright green robot jism hosed out of the front of the tool and battered at the opening to Sarah's womb.As far as she was able, Sarah bucked in her chair at the force of the liquid cum smashing into her insides. But no one heard or paid any attention.
Once the ejaculation had been sent, the Terminator robot went into its automatic reaction, which was to end that cycle. The robot eased the tool back as far as it went so that it left Sarah's glowing tubes, and turning to its left, the Terminator reached down, unscrewed the tool, returned it neatly to its place in the rack, and then waited for the next selection.
In turn, the geek selected the remaining four tools, increasingly wider but shorter, and they were put through their paces. There was no need to make any alterations to the chair position as it was already locked in place, perfectly aligned on her channel. So all that was required was for the Terminator to mount its next tool, swing round, and move forward in order to return to the task of filling Sarah's precious privates. And the tools stretched her more each time.
Each thrash ended with furious squirts of green jism, so that by the time the widest rubber tool was drawn slowly out of her gaping hole, green liquid was dripping down her slit and across her thighs as she overflowed.
The geek would report that all systems were operating properly and switched off and disconnected the plates and tubes that had been tormenting and stretching Sarah's breasts. She sighed as the machinery suddenly went quiet, and she was no longer under painful attack.
That was where the geek engineers had reached with this prototype. The next planned development was to allow for the chair to be tilted and moved to allow the operator the choice of lining up the robot invaders either with the target's mouth or with their rear passage. But that was not yet possible, sadly, so the geek powered the control panel down, the robot sank into its sleep mode position, and the curtains drew across to hide Sarah from view. Someone out there in the jungle would come to move her.
The second project under development was not nearly as advanced yet. Again, the concepts being tested hinged on remote control and wireless links from the geek control screens to whatever was happening outside in the jungle. This one was based on clay pigeon shooting.
However, even if Sarah and future girls had replaced the clay discs, at least the shooting was being done by water cannon and not with guns.
A looping, curling track was being constructed that twisted and turned through the air. As in a playground, the target girls would be sent speeding down the track on their plastic beds to bring them at speed across the water guns. If the idea was to work well, then there had to be an element of surprise and unpredictability about where and when the girls appeared, how they spun and turned across the guns, and when they returned again.
The water cannons themselves were easy enough, and in the right-hand control area, there were three of them set up, mimicking what was actually in the jungle. Each was double-handled so that a geek could aim and fire, like an old-fashioned rear machine gunner from the back of a wartime airplane. And the premium-level pumps that drove the water supply forced out a jet that shot straight ahead for at least 20 feet before the jet began to curve downwards.
Another aspect that the geeks were still working on was to make the girls and their beds spin on impact in reaction to the force of the water, rather than to continue to be battered in a rigid shape. But all of that was still ahead.
The test track that Sarah was put through was long enough to bring her across the water cannons each two minutes or so. Even now, the programme tried to vary her arrival so that the geeks did not already have their cannon trained on her expected arrival point. The fun was to have to react and move and fire as rapidly as possible and to score hits.
At the moment, the spouts of water that hammered at Sarah were just water. But there also were discussions as to whether or not to switch to something that was coloured or would in some way stain and mark the hits to celebrate the gunners' success.
As Sarah went round the test track loop again and again, the geeks noted that it was difficult at present to be sure if under the water attack they had hit her face, her chest, stomach, or even her privates. There just was too much water and spray everywhere. She certainly was glowing pink after a few run-pasts as the hammering water slapped into her flesh, but pretty much pink all over rather than in target hits. Maybe they would have to reduce the nozzle size on the cannon while maintaining the same pressure so that the hit would be more precise?
For the girl's part, Sarah had further reasons to appreciate that not only had her body changed while she had been in the jungle - especially in the breast department - but her nerve responses all seemed to be so much faster - pain and pleasure - and right on the surface.
This month in the Cascade descent had been so different from the first two stages. She had been so isolated and apart from contributing to all the scientific experiments, she had mainly been left to herself. Her guard and his evening visits had been the only demand made on her outside a laboratory or test bed. But overall, she was glad to get away when the month came to an end, and Sarah was bundled into a van to be moved on to her next assignment.For whatever reason, Sarah now seemed to be working on a different stream. It made her sad as she wondered if she would meet up with them again or not.
The town that Udders was in was not greatly prosperous, and there were sleazy areas. And of course, it was often the people living in the sleazy areas that found their way to eat at Udders and to take advantage of the whorehouse. Luigi had priced what was on offer generously and cheaply, and that certainly kept the place full. He did not look to make a great deal of money from the Cows. They were the attraction that brought in the customers, and Luigi made his profit from the food and drink that they consumed.
When customers sat down to their table, the menu covered the usual things like starters, main courses, puddings, and drinks. And when they turned to the back cover, they found the price list for the Cows, so everything was set out in black and white, and they could make their choice.
The back page was headlined "Our Cows are special. So enjoy something special with one of our Cows. Take your pick!"
A kiss and a quick grope. No charge. You're very welcome. Just ask.
One minute feel up the skirt. One dollar.
Three minutes playing with tits. Two dollars.
Five minutes smacking or caning ass. Three dollars.
Five minutes smacking or caning tits. Three dollars.
Ten minutes all-in Sex in the Stall. Five dollars.
As the girls were not expensive, people felt that they could afford whatever they wanted.
One decision Luigi had taken right from the beginning was not to mix the whores with the waitresses. If that happened, then no food would be served to tables each time a customer asked for some personal service. As a result, there were four perfectly normally dressed waitresses who arrived each evening in their white blouses and grey skirts. It was only Sarah and the five other Cows who were exposed and on offer.
When she started her first evening's work, Sarah had a ribbon put around her neck, attached to which was a small cow bell and her number. The number was written on both sides and was her call number. If a customer wanted to sample Cow number 7, they would be asking for Sarah.
She also put on a bracelet on each wrist with built-in clips that allowed each wrist to be locked either together or to something else. And each Cow also had her own little digital clock that showed in big letters how long was left of the time that the customer had bought.
One of the other Cows, called Sandra from New York, showed her how things worked. If you were called to a table for kissing and a grope, you smiled and went for it. If they asked for a feel up the skirt or time with your breast, then you set the clock and then stood next to them with your wrists behind your back, clipped together until the clock bleeped to show that their time was up.
For anything that involved smacking or caning, you had to tuck the back of your skirt up into your belt to show your ass and then climb onto the red ropes. To take up position, you had to lie face down across the ropes and clip each wrist to corners. Your tits would hang through the mesh and be available from the front.
And taking her to the stalls, Sandra demonstrated how Cows would bend over the bar at the back of the stall and drop their hands down into the sleeves so that they presented as a cow with mouth and rear open and in play. She made it sound quite matter-of-fact.
"And what's it like? I mean how many men are we talking about each night here?" asked Sarah with concern.
"I don't know. It depends on how they like you, I guess. With your blonde hair and those boobies, I think you are going to be one of the popular ones, so get ready to be sore. But Luigi is going to love it if you make him plenty of money, and then he will be nice to you. You will see. Much better than if he thinks you are not trying."
And that was the pattern of Sarah's first evening of work at Udders. Dressed in her Cow costume, she paraded up on the walkway until she saw that her number had been called. Maybe she was the new girl, and people had noticed, but it did not take long before she was very busy.
Luigi wanted the restaurant to be a family affair, even if it did include a whorehouse, and so there were a surprising number of families and children there. Luigi didn't mind if the younger sub-teens groped and played - he even let them smack and thrash - but they were not allowed to go to the Stalls until they were 13.
Sarah remembered how it felt to be groped and French kissed by old men at the Clubhouse, so that was nothing new, but she was surprised to find that a number of toothless Grannies and even some younger women would call her over for their free kisses and deep grope.
Probably because of the swing of her large breasts keeping drawing attention to themselves, the first evening for Sarah involved more than her fair share of lying across the mesh, her tits hanging down while a local smacked them left and right like bells. This seemed to be very satisfying for some reason because they always walked away grinning broadly.
By the time the restaurant closed, Sarah had the semen juice of over twenty-five men of one age or another swimming inside her. Her tits and ass were deeply sore from smacking and caning, but she had got through and knew that she had earned the respect of both the other Cows and of Luigi and his staff. She had arrived.
Even the hours Sarah now worked were not that demanding. The restaurant stayed open each night until 1 am in the morning, but was then closed until 6 pm the following evening. So Sarah and the other Cows were able to sleep in a little to recover and had some peaceful time to themselves before leaving the trailer to make more money.
One of the other Cow girls warned Sarah against trying to run away. "You may not remember when it happened, but they will have put a pellet under your skin so that you can be instantly traced by GPS. So even if you made a friend and he gave you a lift, they would get you back within 24 hours for sure, and then they would sell you for medical experiments or spare parts. So relax and stay around the house, OK?"
It was good advice, and Sarah felt that she would settle quickly in the friendly restaurant.
There was one further bit of instruction for Sarah when she was taught by Luigi that all the Cow girls had to take their turn in advertising. Next to the front door to Udders was an earlier doorway long since blocked off and closed. On the surface of the doorway, some past artist had painted a most beautiful dream whore. And later, someone else had cut out two circles where her breasts had been.
The cut-out breasts now hung inside the doorway so that when the wooden circles were hanging correctly, breasts and nipples were seen in exactly the right places. But it also meant that, like one of those cut-outs at the seaside where you put your head through a hole to have your photo taken with a joke body, girls could now stand inside and put their real flesh out through the holes. The painting, viewed by the passers-by, would become more 3D with the real flesh.
It had become one of the most popular town landmarks that for an hour before opening the restaurant each evening, real breasts would be offered as part of the painting of the whore - open to anyone who walked past. And so the people of the town, young and old, enjoyed this tradition and took advantage.
And it was Sarah's turn to take care of advertising on her second evening. Luigi took her to the back of the doorway and checked that she would be aligned, so that her breasts came to exactly the right height to match the holes ahead of her. And once that was correct, Luigi and Sarah together pushed her breast flesh out through the two holes until everything was out, and her chin and chest pressed right up against the wood. To help her stay in position, Luigi closed a thick strap behind her which pressed into her back and stopped any temptation to pull back and withdraw her glories.
And in that hour when the painting in the doorway paraded its new swelling breasts proudly, unseen hands would suddenly stroke, pull, pinch, and occasionally jab, and many mouths suckled and nipped. Sarah could see that her breasts were very popular and also felt that it was true that everything was registering much more noisily. On the inside of the door, she squirmed inside her strap as advantage was taken of what was on public offer.
Without any sight of people moving on the street outside, Sarah was constantly taken by surprise when a passerby took advantage of her generous tits. Without warning, a gummy mouth would surround one of her nipples and suck eagerly as an older man remembered his glory days. Or, out of nowhere, there would be a pinch or a painful attack as a schoolboy would help himself to all that she offered. The other Cows warned Sarah that there seemed to be one particular schoolchild who seemed to spend his days thinking up ways to cause pain to the Cows. Sometimes with fingers but other times with pegs, clips, and even pins. But Luigi's rule was that you were strapped in for an hour and took whatever came at you.
But it turned out that advertising was only required from Sarah every fifth day as the Cow girls all shared turns.
Once in a while, Luigi would make a special deal with a trucker, and then, if Sarah was selected from the Cows, she would have to spend the night in the cab on a truck, entertaining the driver, who usually had friends, right through the night. She was allowed to lie in a little longer than usual afterwards in reward, and she knew that Luigi enjoyed the extra cash that these 'specials' brought in.
Luigi was also keen to bring in the punters with other special events.One warm summer evening, he threw an outdoor barbecue, and all the Cows spent the evening in a field next to the open fires, offering a roll in the hay to anyone who had a few dollars left in their pocket. And the beer and outdoor sunshine somehow led to frankfurters being pushed into the Cows' cunts while still warm as they tried to crawl around the field on their hands and knees like proper cows. And it all felt funny at the time.
Because the barbecue and rolls in the hay had been a success, Luigi found farming friends, and for the two following evenings, all the stalls were set up with proper industrial milking equipment. Any Cow taken to a stall for action had also to attach her teats into the suction cups, and the milking started with loud squelching sounds. And it was that evening that Sarah felt the first squirts of milk leaving her nipples under the extreme pressure of the milking machines. So her time at the jungle in the hands of the bio-chemists was kicking in.
But for the moment, at least, there was no problem. She did not leak, and if any of her customers sucked away at her nipples, no one seemed to react to any sweet taste in their mouth. But she was sure that this was something that would not go away.
Sarah had proved a good little earner, and two of the kitchen staff were spending a good fraction of their weekly wages booking time with her even when the restaurant had closed and her regulars had gone home. Luigi would have liked to have kept her and would certainly have offered her a permanent place at Udders. But he knew that would break his agreement with the Commander, and that would be a major mistake. So, reluctantly, when Sarah's month working at Udders was over, he made the arrangements and passed her on.
The Cascade Step 5: The Zoo
The next stage in Sarah's journey down the Cascade was a major shock. There was good news and bad news. The brilliant news was that at long, long last she was back with Monica again, and the gulp oh-my-God news was her mission for this month was to have sex with animals.
Two Mexican brothers ran a small travelling menagerie with a difference. Touring from town to town following along the same routine route each year, they would present specialist shows of beautiful foreign girls (usually American) being fucked by dogs, donkeys, horses depending on what happened to be in their trailer at the moment.
She had been on the road with the brothers for half a day, and already all of Sarah's strict upbringing was in complete revolt against this latest appalling challenge. She just didn't think she could do it. She couldn't even begin to think about it......
On the road, the brothers moved in two separate vans, each driving one. The lead van was driven by Pedro, the older brother, and that contained the cage in which Monica and Sarah were to live, basically on a shared mattress, as well as Pedro's own bed nearby and his possessions.
Miguel's van behind contained the current animals - which was a Shetland pony called Dick, a huge black fluffy mountain dog called Ringo, and a charming rough-haired mongrel terrier with tons of energy called Joker.
There was also Miguel's own bed and possessions. Dick the Shetland travelled standing, his lead attached to shield him from the movement of the van. The two dogs were on their shared mat, sleeping away the journey and waiting for the next bit of excitement.
There had been many different animals in the show in the past. Pedro was ambitious and always on the lookout for a new attraction, something exciting and different that would bring in the punters. But for the moment, it came down to a mini-horse and two dogs. But he knew from long experience that that would be enough.
The brothers Pedro and Miguel had also had many girl assistants for their show and appreciated the quality of any Cascade girls that came their way. They knew from experience that when a new girl joined the routines, she would need at least 2 days of heavy training before being ready. So at the moment, they were heading towards a secluded training area rather than towards an engagement. The brothers looked forward to the training. Monica had been easy to break, and so they had every certainty that they would soon turn Sarah into their next superstar.
The night stop was at one of the remote shepherd's huts that they used, a long way from anywhere. And the brothers were deliberately relaxed as they unloaded the two girls and began to set up an evening meal by an open fire. The dogs and pony were also released but were happy to wander and explore as they stretched their legs.
On the way, Monica and Sarah had been able to exchange stories of what each had been up to in the last two months. Monica was astonished at Sarah's experiences in the jungle with El Condor and at the Udders restaurant whorehouse. She told, in her turn, that she had spent a month on a yacht whose owner's twin sons were celebrating their twenty-first birthday with wild parties. And she had been the main entertainment. That had been alright, she admitted, but the following month under a cruel Arab had been painful, and she had been glad to get away.
Monica, of course, was still the same shape and was amazed and envious of Sarah's new look. Part of her wondered what it would be like to carry such a weight of tit flesh on her chest and whether it was true that Sarah had to feel everything far, far stronger from now onwards. Sarah hadn't mentioned her lactating breasts because she still was not sure whether it was happening or not.
Pedro and Miguel were totally confident that they could train Sarah to her new role simply because they knew from her background that only four months ago, she had been fending off her boyfriend Brad with little interest in giving him a good time, and now would calmly and casually put out for anyone. And they knew that Monica would help. Monica had found that she took to sex with the beasts quite easily. It was just a personal reaction, and by concentrating on the cute friendliness of the animal in front of her, it followed quite easily that she should open herself up to his needs. And now she was seen by the brothers as the chief partner to the Shetland Dick. Sarah was replacing the girl that had worked closely with the two dogs, in all senses, and that was where she was needed. The brothers simply had to take her to the edge and help her to cross over. Then there would be no going back.
As good professionals in these areas, their first instinct was to start with drugs and alcohol. And so Sarah found herself being plied with heavy drinks by the boys as they encouraged her to drink up around the wood fire. At some point, she was offered and took a couple of tablets without really concentrating on what she was doing - she never ever did drugs - and was soon in a blurred and hazy condition.
She had a half memory of dancing by the fire with Pedro, and his hands were all over her, and from then onwards, she seemed to be naked again. But the fire was warm, and it was delicious to be out in the open air after a month in the trailer behind the Udders. She smiled and relaxed.
Step one would be to acclimatize the new girl to her two charges, and they started with the mutt Joker. It was Monica who quickly had him on his back, stroking his tummy and brought Sarah's hand down to guide it up and down his soft fur. Sarah registered how soft and pleasant it felt. And she half registered Monica asking her to watch and then seeing Monica's head bob down and take the terrier's prick into her mouth and mouth it softly up and down. Monica's hand, or was it one of the boys, pressed her neck firmly, and her head followed down, and instinctively she too had an open mouth and wet tongue in the same area, following Monica's wet lead. Monica seemed to murmur encouragement into her ear, and Sarah tried a little harder, closing her eyes. It was hard to say if she even knew what she was doing anymore or was just cruising on instinct.
Either way, the mutt Joker was getting his oats brought to him in a dog dish, and Sarah could hear his low growl as he wriggled his body and pressed his growing penis up towards her mouth. If she had opened her eyes and looked down, Sarah would have seen the beginning of Joker's pink erection unsheathing and building forwards like a lipstick opening from its case. It was Monica's more experienced hand that reached down for Joker's balls sac and stroked the base of his rod as it continued to stretch and grow.
Without really paying attention, Sarah's trained instincts, encouraged and reassured by the safe presence of Monica just by her, closed her mouth around the stick just as if it had been some young client's dick. And her wet mouth slid up and down a little to remind the dick of where it wanted to go and what it wanted to do.
But the brothers had trained both dogs by smell. The smell of bitches on heat which always travelled with them and would be applied at the right moment inside Sarah with a sponge or rag. And the dogs knew that if that delicious aroma was not present, then they should lie back and enjoy something else. For instance, what this nice new lady was doing to Joker's member.
Sarah could feel Monica's hand stroking her breasts softly - at least it felt like Monica. She couldn't be sure anymore. And in waves of soft warm sensuality, Sarah stroked on with her mouth until the terrier happily released his juices, spurting deep into her mouth. The first barrier had been crossed.
There was a blank interval for Sarah which she could not really map or understand, during which she was offered and downed another large drink to wash down the dog sperm, and then somehow time looped round, and her hand was back on another dog's pride - but in a strange way, it seemed far, far bigger this time. And that was how Monica moved her firmly towards Ringo as well.And it did not take long before Sarah had sucked him off too.
The brothers had developed two basic fucking cradles to use in their show. In the first, the girl was on her back, and the whole cradle was raised in the air just enough that her cunt hole would line up perfectly with Ringo's battering ram. Joker would need a small step, but that was easy enough to arrange. In this cradle, the girl's knees were drawn up and right out, tied behind her head so that everything focused on offering access to her hole.
The brothers had also developed a second frame in which the girl was supported on hands and knees, again with her rear pushed out and back at exactly the right height for Ringo, but here the attack came from her rear, and Ringo or any other beast ended up climbing onto the girl's back while his haunches pumped away.
As professionals, the brothers alternated what they used and found that some of the audience loved one cradle and some the other. So they trained their girls and the dogs to both and mixed them around as needed.
Monica's fingers dipped into Sarah's snatch, and she nodded towards Miguel to signal that her friend was ready to take the next step. It was easiest to move Sarah onto the on-her-back cradle, and she barely noticed that her knees had now been caught and firmly pulled right back so that she was displayed and ready, right down to her open cunt, outer lips stretched outward invitingly and waiting.
Opening the bottle of red liquid distilled from bitches on heat, Pedro shook some onto a small sponge and leaned into Sarah. Wiping it firmly around her inner lips and clit, he pushed the sponge firmly into her hole and squeezed. Red chemical triggers spread and trickled deep into her. Even though the two dogs had just come into Sarah's mouth, all it took was a whiff or two, and they were desperate to move onto the main course.
Ringo's snout moved directly into her center, and his great tongue began to lick around her clit and into her private inner world. Sarah lurched with the spectacular pleasure of that immensely long, wet tongue. And when the licking ended, she half felt the great black beast move over her. To protect herself, her arm naturally lifted to fend him off, but Monica was there to whisper reassurance into her ear, and the arm fell back, allowing the beast to do anything he wanted.
She did not know if anyone's hand guided Ringo, but in two thrusts, he was sliding deep into her wettest parts, and the bloated sausage of him filled her entirely. His paws tried to grip her on either side, and the very experienced dog began to hunch and drive. Sarah swam with it, just letting her cunt muscles instinctively answer and respond to the intruder and floated in pure pleasure. She sensed the rising tide as the beast worked towards his climax, and everything in the girl tried to match him, climbing at the same rate.
Something further was battering at the outside of her lips, demanding entry, and she tried to stretch to make a welcome, and for the very first time in her life, but not the last, Ringo's swollen knob pushed its way into her cunt, and when she bore down, his gross member was locked in.
But that was just a moment's distraction as she sensed the hound climbing to release and did her best to follow. And amazingly, when Ringo's dog spunk started to jet hard against her cervix deep inside her, something clenched and spasmed in the dear girl, and she too came loudly in the woods. The brothers looked at each other and smiled. It looked as if they had found a natural.
They kept Sarah away from the Shetland Dick because he already had a great working relationship with Monica. So there was no need to take Sarah there for the moment. If Sarah could take on the two dogs and bond with them, then the brothers would have all they needed for their shows.
The brothers had developed two versions of their dog and girl show which they called for shorthand 'unwilling' and 'willing'. And as Sarah was still an untried new girl, it was natural that her first two shows followed their 'unwilling' play.
As they traveled, the shows were staged in barns, town halls, or even in the homes of regular supporters who booked them every year. Sarah's first show with the brothers turned out to be on the stage of a school hall in front of a packed audience, most of whom seemed to be drunk and ready for a good time. Many were farming stock and very familiar with the mating of beasts.
This was the sort of audience that the brothers understood totally. It was made up of people like them, and they knew how to give them what they wanted.
So for that first evening, after the audience had quietened, and the curtain opened, Sarah was the first on stage, dressed as a little girl with blonde pigtails, a white school blouse that struggled to contain her mature chest, and a very short blue skirt, white ankle socks, and sandals. She might have been on her way back from school, skipping along a short cut through the woods.
Pedro then appeared as a hunter, hidden and moving carefully after her, catching up with her quickly as she paused to admire things on the ground. And when he was close, he drew what looked like a gun and shot her. But it was a taser, slightly dialed down from police level. But even so, ribbons shot out and struck the girl on her back, clearly penetrating her white blouse. The audience sighed with interest as she collapsed onto the ground, stunned and unconscious.
Miguel appeared from the other side of the stage, carrying the on-your-back cradle that Sarah had already used, and set it up mid-stage while Pedro kept their attention, pouncing on the girl and setting about removing her clothing. The audience roared as, in turn, he threw her bra and then her pants to them. Once naked, he deliberately lifted Sarah over his shoulder so that her giant breasts hung down and then toured round the audience. Excited hands reached out to touch her as he teased them and half showed what he had captured, before running back onto the stage and bringing Sarah's inert body to his brother and his cradle.
The brothers strapped her in and tied back her knees as before so that her half-open cunt faced directly towards the audience. Might as well give them maximum value. As Pedro leaned across the girl's face and slapped her before holding a vial of smelling salts under her nose to waken her up, Miguel slipped a piece of best steak into the girl's cunt.
And it was the smell of the steak that brought Joker onto the stage. Joker was the light relief, and the audience laughed to see the little terrier race in and dive straight for her cunt. Of course, he was fetching out the piece of steak, but they did not know that and roared at his actions. While they were watching Joker, Miguel pushed a sponge of the famous red liquid into the girl's cunt hole and squeezed to prime her for the main event.
Having been chased away, Joker was trained to move to the side of the stage where he sat licking at his member, clearly masturbating. The brothers left to fetch Ringo, and soon as they left the stage, Joker dashed over, his pink extensions clearly visible, and stepping up in front of Sarah's cunt, did his best to pump away. The audience couldn't tell if he had found the target or not, but again laughed at the spirit of the little dog and cheered him on.
When the brothers returned, leading Ringo onto the stage, they shooed Joker away again, and he settled again on the edge of the stage to lick himself and watch for another opportunity. Pedro led Ringo into the audience and made sure that they all had a good close-up on the powerful dog that was about to be unleashed on Sarah. And when he had their interest, he led Ringo's nose to its target and held onto his lead while his tongue worked away at Sarah's sweet snatch. And it was clear to the audience that Sarah was now wide awake and very much involved.
Which would lead to Pedro releasing the beast once it was clear that its erection was huge and ready to plunge into action. And the fucking began. Most of the audience knew all about the beast's knot and nudged each other as it grew and pressed its way into the girl. And soon enough, the dog and the girl bucked together, and the audience smiled and sighed in pleasure as they imagined the splashing dog cum that was now soaking her insides.
The knot kept Ringo locked into her cunt, and in a classic way, the great dog usually turned and stepped over his member so that he faced away from his mate, now facing into the audience. And as the dog and girl waited until the knot calmed and subsided enough to be able to slip out of her entrance, Pedro spoke to the audience and told them that they were at the end of part one of their show and that they could now buy drinks, and if they returned in ten minutes, they would also see part two, which involved a horse. And as the audience got to their feet, buzzing with chatter, some laughed as they noticed Joker dashing in again with his extended pole, sniffing round the joined lower area and then giving little jumps as he tried to connect to Sarah's mouth.
And the audience streamed forward, and a number wanted to touch or stroke or poke at the girl and stroke her furry partner while she was held at their mercy. But her part was complete, and the rest was down to Monica.
In the second story that evening, Pedro started by playing Monica's young lover, holding and kissing her as his fiancée and clearly closely in love with each other. When Pedro had left her on her own, Miguel appeared as some dark, dangerous figure who sprinkled twinkly dust over Monica and left the stage. In an echo of A Midsummer Night's Dream, the magic worked because when he then returned, leading Dick the Shetland pony, Monica reacted as if the pony was her lover. She spoke to it, stroked its head, and kissed its lips, and generally made a fuss of the pony.Which led, of course, to her sliding underneath and beginning to make a great fuss of his dangling dick. As soon as the Shetland felt her familiar hand, it was obvious that he was aroused, as the fat dick doubled in size and began to swing and flare. They watched as Monica's hand tended to the horse's impressive maleness, and by using a little lubrication, was soon able to slide easily up and down its length. Encouraged, the great length began to twitch and then lifted into its ready position, horizontal under Dick's belly.
The Shetland's dick was not, of course, as large as that of a full-sized horse, but it was still awesome in its way, and several in the audience held their breath as Monica opened wide to take the front end, the giant length of flesh with its flared head, into her waiting mouth. Moist suckling and firm hand grips along the length of the member was then followed by Monica climbing on to her special frame and offering her rear to the pony. She too had her version of mare's menstrual magic, and there was no stopping the Shetland.
Long practiced at what was needed, the randy pony lined up, and Monica's hand reached back to connect him to the right starting point. And so, when the pony thrust forward, the audience gasped to see so much firm flesh disappear into the slim girl. As it happened, Monica was indeed slim but had been born with a large vagina, and this sort of giant visitor was actually something of a treat for her. So she pressed back to achieve deep penetration until she was completely full.
That was the `unwilling' play, which they used in many towns and situations. Once they were sure of Sarah, they also used the `willing' version, which instead started with each brother leading a naked girl by a rope round her neck into the audience so that they could feel and touch her before she went into action.
And so the group toured the country. A few days later, there was one booking from a regular, which could only be addressed to Monica and her special abilities. The previous year, the mayor of a town had approached Pedro over a drink after his show and asked if he had a girl who could deal with a donkey. Pedro said he hadn't but would watch out. And the mayor suggested that if he could bring such a girl next year, it would be a perfect 40th birthday present to his wife to watch, and he knew where to find the perfect donkey.
But Pedro's experience of horses and donkeys made him feel that that would be one or two steps further on than the Shetland ham that Monica was now happily sucking in. How to help her vagina enlarge in preparation?
Pedro had consulted a doctor friend, and he had suggested a plastic speculum designed for unusually large vaginas that could be adjusted and screwed tight into a range of over-large sizes. And had provided Pedro with the promising gadget in exchange for some favors.
And so it was that two weeks before the group was due back into the mayor's town, Monica was started on a special program of daily stretching. The greased speculum was inserted into her hole and expanded as far as Pedro could take it and then locked down. Twice a day, it would be checked, and Miguel and Pedro would take turns to see if they could use their strength to open the speculum a little turn or two more before locking it down again. And Monica adjusted her contributions to the daily shows by concentrating on stroking her pony and using her mouth as far as possible to take it to spurting time. But she was not allowed to take the speculum out.
Two weeks later, in a barn, she lay back on some hay bales when the donkey was led out. Sure enough, it did seem to be well endowed, and when the donkey smelt Monica, the mayor and his wife excitedly pointed out that its maleness was beginning to expand and lengthen as it dangled ready.
With Monica raised and in position on her back, her hips thrust forward, the donkey's giant member was quickly brought into place, and then the people stood back to allow the mayor's wife her present. Pedro wondered if the plump lady was secretly wishing to switch places with Monica to give the donkey a try, but she blushed, clapped her hands delightedly, and agreed with her husband that it was the best present she had ever had. She hesitated and then suggested that maybe next year the brothers could bring a monkey? She would like to see that.
Soon afterwards, Joker discovered the sweet milk now beginning to leak at Sarah's chemically treated nipples, and he liked what he tasted. She might not be pregnant in reality, but her chemicals thought that she was and were organizing her hormones accordingly.
By this time, Sarah loved little Joker dearly. She loved big Ringo too, of course, because he was magnificent, but Joker made her laugh and had so much character. So Sarah slipped easily into a habit of lying down when Joker was around and asking for attention, turning to one side and letting the terrier suckle away to his heart's content. And it seemed that as soon as her milk breasts had a customer, they in turn produced more. And then she began to welcome Joker's twice-daily visits and called him to her just to suck, because that eased the pressure that built in her breasts.
Pedro and Miguel were quick to spot the potential in this situation, and so a new part of their act was introduced, which proved very popular. Sarah would sit in an open chair as if asleep, her breasts naked and exposed. Joker would jump up onto her lap and bark to wake her up and then latch on to one side or the other. The audience would laugh, and Sarah would smile down at her furry child and cuddle him into her as each breast in turn was emptied.
And that led easily on to a second stage where, from the same position, her hand encouraged his sheath, and once he had responded, lowered him down a little so that Joker ended face to face with her, tongue lolling from a corner of his mouth as he jerked away down below. And when he spasmed and juiced her insides, Sarah smiled and kissed him to thank him for his efforts.
Monica and Sarah had become very close in these two weeks as part of the performance troupe. It surprised both girls that Pedro and Miguel left them alone even at night. Considering that they were professionally engaged in the sex trade, you would have thought that they would have regularly made demands on the two isolated girls. But they didn't. They seemed to see Monica and Sarah in the same way as they saw the beasts - as business stock that needed looking after so that they made as much money as possible.
At night, Sarah and Monica would cuddle each other and sleep entwined like the lovers they were becoming. And so it was a huge wrench for Sarah on the day when the brothers casually pushed Monica into a van because her time was up and she had to move on. Sarah ran after the van waving, but there were no windows as usual, so Monica would not have been able to see.
The brothers too were extremely sorry to lose Monica. They valued Sarah as a pretty blonde who handled the dog side well and saw that she was popular with their audiences. But Monica had been specially gifted in her ability to take in the Shetland and that donkey. Those sorts of girls were extremely rare, and the next girl would be unlikely to be so naturally gifted. But they shrugged and would have to adapt.
There was only a single day when Sarah was on her own, trying to comfort herself with her doggy friends, wondering where Monica had gone to and when she would see her again. Then a Scottish girl called Fiona arrived to replace Monica, and life moved on.
This time it was Sarah's role as the experienced lead girl to initiate the new girl Fiona into what was expected of her. She liked the look of Fiona, who had a slim figure, a young pixie face, dark brown hair, and twinkling eyes. She looked fun and, above all, she looked fresh and very young. Sarah instinctively wanted to protect her, as she looked so inexperienced, but knew that the routine had to be followed. But here they hit a problem. Fiona was terrified, even of Joker, let alone Ringo or the Shetland. She screamed and thrashed and refused, even plied with drink and drugs, and the brothers shook their heads, wondering how she should be handled. One way or another, Fiona had to be in the act to earn their money, at least until they could contact the Commander and ask for a replacement to be sent out.
As usual, the brothers had set aside two training days to bring Fiona into the team, and now they had gone, and they were due to give their next booking that evening. The brothers decided that the only way forward was to design Fiona's section of the display as rape, because that was what it looked as if it was going to be. They would just have to increase the amount of red juice, drive Ringo crazy so that he would have her no matter how much she screamed.
For the next few nights, then, the Shetland played no part except to be exhibited as a tease outside the barn or hall so that members of the public could admire and touch Dick's length of meat. Inside, the shows started with Sarah feeding Joker her milk and then accommodating him lower down from her chair. That was the opener. And the middle section was then set with Fiona's capture and stripping, ending with her being tied and displayed for Ringo, who would run on and thrust almost immediately into her while Fiona cried and raged in quite real terror. The brothers learned to leave some of her upper half loosely bound so that the audience could appreciate the better Fiona's efforts to get free and escape from her fate.
After the second night, the brothers worked in a twist by following Ringo's rape by turning over Fiona so that her breasts hung down, and then Joker could return to attack them. Finding no milk in them did not put him off as he pulled and sucked, growling angrily - and the audience loved it.In a way Fiona's fear of being taken by the dogs also helped the brothers in their next special project. Some months ago, well before Sarah had joined them, Pedro and Miguel had been approached by a wealthy, well-connected young man, who asked if they would be interested in making films together. That was a business area that they had definitely considered, so they were quick to agree. And the next assignment for the troupe was to be their first film project.
The young man's name was Juan-Pablo, and he was one of a group of friends who had seen one of the shows and enjoyed it. More than once afterwards, the group of friends had shared drinks and discussed how they could create something that mixed beasts, girls, rape, and wildness. And now they had formed their plan. As part of that plan, each of the eight friends had taken on a brief to buy or borrow a well-endowed male dog to be brought in to star in the movie. They realized that the pack of dogs would not be used to each other, let alone the girls, but that would add to the wildness.
The setting for their film had been arranged at a barn in open forest, a long way from anywhere. Lights, cameras, and sound equipment were all of professional quality, as the friends expected to at least end up with a movie to cherish forever and maybe it would be posted online.
As often happened in their shows, the opening scene was of Fiona and Sarah dressed and happily eating and enjoying a picnic on a rug near the barn without a care in the world. As they finished, they lay back and began to doze and sunbathe, enjoying the warm weather.
The next section showed the side door to the barn opening, and the friends emerged, dressed for the part as country woodsmen. Spying the girls on the rug, they were filmed as they crept up towards them, surrounded them, and then pounced.
With much real screaming from Fiona and some pretend cries from Sarah, neither of whom had seen the script, of course, the girls were stripped naked and their clothes were ripped away. The girls were then carried into the barn, and filming was cut for a break.
After the break, the friends were shown from all angles as they drank and assaulted the two girls, taking turns to plunge into the holes of their choice and hammer away heroically. Fiona's tears and cries looked wonderful in close-up as the girls scrabbled to escape the repeated penetration, but it was no use.
This section ended when the friends were all obviously drained and exhausted, with nothing further left to pump into either girl for the present. And then the girls were tied in positions where they would be very ready when the men decided to resume. Fiona was draped over the side of a soft chair with her bottom in the air. Sarah was on the remains of a wooden crate, legs tied apart and her back tied to the wall behind her. But the young friends then were filmed deciding to go out for a while and to return for more later.
The final part of their film was to star the pack of dogs. Pedro applied a great deal of red fluid into the open cunts of his two female stars and then trailed drops of the magic fluid across the barn to its open door.
The friend acting as director insisted that this final scene should happen unscripted, whatever happened. So the young men and the two brothers turned on the cameras, left the helpless girls, and walked out into the sunshine. When they reached their trucks and cars behind the building, the pack of dogs was let out. Excited at being free, the mixed bunch of large males began barking and posturing at each other, snarling and sizing each other up to see who would become the leader. And basically everyone got into their vans and drove off to the nearby town to enjoy a three-hour meal, leaving the pack to it.
Later, the group excitedly returned to collect the dogs back, each their own, and took down the camera equipment. The young men were excited to see the evidence of what had happened and how the dogs had handled the open opportunities in front of them. As soon as they could get the camera to a computer, they would see and then they could begin on editing the results into a complete movie.
Pedro and Miguel were paid, Sarah and Fiona were untied and taken back to be washed down and cleaned, and the brothers celebrated making as much money in a day than they usually made in a month. This film idea was promising.
The brothers twice set up the equipment to try Sarah out with the Shetland. Horse and donkey acts were very popular, and the brothers knew that it was important that they replace Monica soon with another girl capable of accommodating a massive donkey dick.
Sarah did not object, and the brothers tried heavy grease and oils. One time they even spent a good five minutes pistoning their oiled hands and forearms up into her in turn to try to widen her up as much as possible. But she just was not born large enough. When the Shetland's erect flesh tube swelled and lifted, it pressed into her greased opening, and even though the horse pressed and Sarah pressed back, the flared end could not enter. And after some seconds of furious trying, it would droop and withdraw in failure. That was not going to work with the audiences.
Sarah did not worry because she still had the two dogs as her special partners in the act, and they would continue to be the main show - so she knew that she was needed. Fiona did not feel as secure, even though the dogs raping her was now very much embedded into the evening shows. But she could hear the brothers discussing using snakes and even wondering about starting a water show as Pedro had read that a walrus had an amazingly large penis - and that made the Scottish girl panic.
In the end, Sarah never saw the next new girl arrive and so did not know how the brothers solved those problems. For her, the month had ended, and the same van that arrived to collect her unexpectedly one morning had brought out her replacement. But the replacement had been wrapped in a blue plastic sack, so Sarah did not see what she looked like.
10. The Cascade step 6: Release
When Sarah next stepped out from the van into daylight, she found herself in front of a wealthy country house, and standing in front of her was a well-groomed woman dressed in a grey business suit. And to Sarah's amazement, she was being smiled at warmly.
"Welcome, Sarah. And how are you, my dear?" the charming lady asked. Sarah did not know how to begin to answer that question. It seemed such a long time ago that anyone had spoken to her like that.
"I expect that you would like to clean up and change into some proper clothes. And when you are ready, we must give you some food. I am sure that no one has been feeding you properly." And with a friendly arm around Sarah's shoulders, she found herself being guided away from the van and into the mansion. And to Sarah's astonishment, she was invited up the stairs and taken to a beautiful, luxurious room that could have come from some 5-star hotel.
The business woman smiled at her shock. "My name is Wendy, by the way. Take your time, Sarah. Settle in, clean up, and when you are ready, come downstairs, and I will find you something to eat. Everything you will need should be in the bathroom, so please help yourself to anything at all." And with that, she left the room.
Looking about her, Sarah could not believe what was happening. The double bed looked soft and welcoming. There were folded nightwear on the pillow and a white gown across the bottom of the bed. The carpet underfoot was so soft, and when she opened the door to investigate the bathroom, it was perfect. Designed in modern marble and white porcelain, she would have to choose between a deep bath to her left and a steel walk-in shower with a huge deluge head to her right. In the centre were her toilet and the sink, with all sorts of girlish bottles set out on shelves. Something in Sarah melted with happiness, and all the memories and struggles of the past few months seemed to fall away.
She started the bath water running and then could not wait, and she showered herself, amazed at the pleasure of letting the warm water run down through her hair. And when the bath was run, she poured in scented bath oils and eased herself in for a wonderful soak.
In a wardrobe, she found two sets of clothing that surprisingly were her size, and so by the time Sarah stepped down into the hallway again, not only was she clean and smelling wonderful, her hair styled as she liked it best, she was also smartly dressed in a sweater and skirt.
The dream continued as Sarah and Wendy sat down together to eat a wonderful meal that someone had somehow prepared within the mansion. And Wendy was a good listener, asking Sarah all about her adventures and making notes on her pad as she nodded. Occasionally, some things were difficult for Sarah to speak about, but Wendy was so easy and professional that Sarah found she could trust her with her most private experiences and reactions. She described all of her adventures and everything she had been forced to do. Sarah even told Wendy about being chemically pregnant and her leaking nipples and how she missed Joker really, as no one had sucked them for a whole day now. And the operations to increase the size of various bits of her and to remove her gag reflex, and how everything now seemed to be far more sensitive. And Wendy nodded and took notes.
And until she had told Wendy the whole story of her months in the Cascade system, Sarah had not really taken the time to appreciate how much she had gone through and also how much she had changed. She was so much no longer the young blonde from Spokane that had been on her way home before Facebook tripped her up.
Wendy would not speak to her about the future and simply said, "Not yet. Enough for now. We can begin looking at that tomorrow.""And after dinner, she asked if Sarah minded having her photo taken, and Sarah smiled into the camera, knowing that she now looked exactly like a well-brought-up American girl with her future ahead of her.
"Well, that should cover everything for tonight, Sarah. You have been most helpful. I am sure you are tired from all these amazing experiences, and I have some calls to make and some reports to write. So, why not head back to your room for an early night? If you struggle to get to sleep, turn on the TV for a while, or you can look in the cupboard next to your bed for a drink if you prefer. Either way, sleep well, and I will see you tomorrow at 8 am. There is a clock in your room so that you can keep track of the time. OK?"
And with that, Sarah headed upstairs back to her luxurious room, wondered about taking another shower, changed into her nightwear, and slipped into bed. Everything was so soft and safe that in a few moments, she was fast asleep.
Sarah wore the same sweater and skirt when she descended the stairs the next morning, very close to 8 am, to find that Wendy and breakfast were waiting for her. Wendy seemed to be in a very good mood, and Sarah somehow felt that she had done well; Wendy was pleased with her. Whatever phone calls and reports Wendy had had to make the previous evening must have been finished and dealt with because Wendy seemed to be under no pressure that morning. Once she glanced at her wrist and warned, "Your car will be here at 10. So, that is when you will need to be ready." But she wouldn't explain what was planned and just smiled and told Sarah, "You'll see soon enough, young lady."
Very happy at this remarkable change in her young life, Sarah even had time to walk and explore some of the well-kept gardens around the mansion before the large grey car drove in down the drive and parked outside the front door. In the charge of the businesswoman, Sarah was on her way to her next mysterious appointment.
The only clue that Wendy gave her was her advice. "Before we can deal with your natural wish to get home to the States as soon as possible, we need closure first over all these things that have been done to you in Mexico. It will be important that you make a good impression on the people you will see today, so take great care to present yourself well. You don't want them to think that you are just white trash who can be dismissed, do you? They have all seen my report of your story, so they will know the outline, but they will need to see you to check on the state you are in."
And then Wendy stayed silent, so Sarah concentrated on the view from her car window as they travelled through countryside and into a small town. Eventually, they pulled up and parked behind a large, official-looking building which might be something like the Town Hall or Mayor's Office. Wendy led her inside and told her to sit in a waiting room while she went ahead.
Some minutes later, Wendy returned and guided her into a large room where Sarah found herself standing in front of 6 serious adults, some male, some female, all seated above her on a platform like judges in a court. As she looked up at them, Sarah suddenly felt small and vulnerable. Instinctively, the young blonde girl clasped her hands together behind her back, which happened also to present two of her major assets, and waited to answer their questions.
Only three of the 'judges' spoke, but all the time, she could feel the eyes of all six boring down at her, and some seemed to be checking her out very much top to bottom. And she noticed that there were also two cameras pointed at her with sound booms above, recording everything that happened to unseen others watching by video.
Sarah remembered the need to make a good impression and spoke up, doing her very best to answer their questions truthfully. When there seemed to be no more questions, Wendy stepped in at her side and gave her a new instruction:
"Thank you, Sarah. You have answered well. Now, we need to check you overall for marks on your body and other changes which may be relevant to your situation. So, take all your clothes off now, put them on that chair there, and come back here so that we can see what scars you have been left with."
That, of course, was a shock now that Sarah had become used to being dressed smartly again. But she knew that she could trust Wendy, who had been so surprisingly kind to her, and with a gulp and a swallow, Sarah did as she was told, walked to the chair, stripped off, and returned naked to where she had been standing.
"Hands out to the side, please, Sarah. That's good." The judges leaned forward to see her better, and no doubt everything was going into digital recordings via the cameras. She was turned slowly, the judges made notes which she could see were being passed to a chairman at the extreme left of the panel, and it was finished.
"Thank you, Sarah. Perfect. All done now, so you can pick up your clothes and take them through that door there. You can put them back on, and I will come to find you when we have a decision." Wendy smiled proudly at her, and the American did as she was told.
But Sarah would never know if Wendy did actually come to find her later or not. As she entered the room holding her clothes, ready to put them back on, hands grabbed at her, and a needle was pressed firmly into her neck. Sarah collapsed on the floor as the drug took effect immediately. Her clothes fell with her and would be given back to Wendy later. Sarah would not need them as she was being packaged into a thick crate ready for transporting to her buyer.
Sarah had been fortunate. Some of the buyers either in the room or linked by video to the auction bought Wendy's girls for medical body parts or for specialist services in painful dark places where life was short. But Sarah had been bought by a rich man living near Cancun as a birthday present for his 11-year-old son. And Wendy had again made a good deal of money.
11. Out of the Cascade
The crate that held the unconscious Sarah was moved by private jet so that it did not seem much later to the blonde girl that she was being lifted and helped out of the box to stand. She found herself still very naked with something holding her wrists together behind her, in front of two men.
One was her new owner, a dark, handsome, powerful man somewhere in his 50s with dark eyes. The other was a younger man of mixed race who was grinning at her and staring at her breasts with great interest as he jiggled slightly from side to side. Sarah's first impression was that the powerful man was taking stock and that maybe the young man was not altogether there in the head department.
Her new owner had a deep voice as he took control of the situation in clear, educated English.
"You may call me Master. I bought you at the auction yesterday, and so now own you, but you are to be a 11th birthday present to my son Roberto, so you are his.
In my family, there has long been a tradition that all male children are given a Toy for their 11th birthday as a recognition that they are becoming men. My father had one, and he in turn gave me one.
Be completely clear that Roberto may do simply anything that he wants with you. There are no limits at all, and you cannot come to me or to anyone else hoping for protection. If he wants to cut an arm off, pull your teeth out, or anything at all, he will do it, and that will be that. So, take great care to please Roberto and make sure that he is happy."
The Master paused and half-smiled as he remembered.
"My Toy just kept on talking and making a noise, irritating me until I put an end to it and had her tongue cut out. I instructed them to cut deep, and I was then able to send her tongue to be dried and stuffed, and as I dipped it into a number of wet cunts, I thought of her. But I had the rest of her sent to the logging camps in the Amazon. So, beware, Chiquita!"
Sarah shivered at this appalling story and promised herself that no matter what this boy Roberto was like, she would keep him happy and never speak so much that she annoyed him.
"There is a space for you to sleep in attached to Roberto's room, and you even will have your own toilet in there. Whenever Roberto is in our house, you will be with him and will stay in his room or in your own space unless he takes you somewhere with him. All the time he is here, you are fully available to him, to follow his wishes.
Each weekday, he will leave for school at 8 am and will return at 5:30 pm. While he is at school, you will first tidy his room and yourself, and will then spend the day with my other servants. Senora Martinez is senior and in charge of the cooking and runs the household. There is also Carmen as a maid, and Luis here, my gardener and handyman. You are at the very bottom of the chain, so you must also obey the other servants and follow their wishes. During the day, you will help them as they order and make sure that you are back in position in Roberto's room well before 5:30 pm. Understood?"
Sarah nodded and tried to remember everything so that she would not go wrong. There were a lot of people that she would now need to please.
"My doctor is coming in a while to inspect you and to make sure that you are clean. He will also check to see when you are likely to return to being fertile again. I know that you have taken chemicals to suppress your cycle for some time, and that is to stop. Roberto is to breed with you whenever you are ready so that he can experience fatherhood. What he does with your babies will be up to him. In the past, we have usually sold on male babies to agencies who sell them for adoption and have kept the females to bring up for later use. In fact, Carmen is my daughter from an earlier arrangement, and that is why I keep her by me.
There is to be no doubt that any children you bear will be Roberto's."Luis has strict instructions that he can play as he likes with your mouth and your ass but can never enter your cunt. And you will make sure that also applies to any strange males who reach you. Be sure that when each baby is born, its DNA will be checked, and if the father is found not to be Roberto, then your punishment will be extreme.
Master frowned down at Sarah to emphasize his point, and she nodded strongly to show that she had heard and fully understood. Her cunt was only for Roberto from now onwards. And my goodness, she would be having babies.
"There is no need for you to wear clothes as you cannot leave our home and gardens. So you will stay as you are at all times."
"By speaking English to my son, you will help him for his business career in the USA later on. And you will instruct him in all the possibilities of women, so that he will be ready to take the opportunities open to him when he too is a rich and successful man."
"And there is one more important routine that you must follow. I know that my son's hormones will be rising strongly as he becomes a man. Millions of sperm hatching every day, and he will have inherited strong genes that will make him into a man to remember. But they will distract him from the schoolwork that he must do. For that reason, every morning you must ensure that before he dresses and comes down, his balls have been emptied. Then he will be relaxed at school and not chase the girls too much."
"So when you wake him at 6 each morning, you must see if he would like to fuck you in one way or another. And if he is not taking you in any other way, you must always make sure that your mouth drains him fully. By the time he returns from school, fresh sperm will be ready, and do not worry, there will be plenty for you." He laughed at his own joke, and Sarah smiled as best she could.
And that ended Sarah's initial period of instruction from her new Master. He left for his study while the slightly strange gardener Luis showed her first to the kitchen where she met Senora Martinez - a fierce matronly 40-year-old - and Carmen, a dark-haired girl 5 or more years older than Sarah. The initial meeting was brief, and Sarah was unsure whether they liked her or not.
Luis also took her to Roberto's bedroom, which was large, consisting of two full-sized rooms, storage cupboards, and an impressive bathroom. He was definitely the important son of the family. Her cupboard space was far smaller, of course, with room for little more than a low single bed, a chair, and the toilet beyond. Sarah had a funny feeling as she looked around what would be her new home.
Luis left, telling her that she now had to wait in her space until the doctor had seen her. She sat in the chair by her bed and looked around, feeling that maybe she would be safe here.
When he came, the doctor was quick and professional. Sarah stripped off for her inspection and had her mouth and eyes checked, breasts felt and squeezed, and opened her legs so that swabs could be taken from her vagina. Blood was taken from an arm for analysis, and the doctor left. She guessed that his report would be sent to her Master as soon as the swabs and blood had been tested - later that day.
In all this time, since she had emerged from the crate, Sarah's hands had been tied behind her back, and no one seemed to see any reason to untie her. It was uncomfortable, but Sarah was able to use her new toilet and then lay down on her bed for a rest.
When school was over, and she finally met Roberto, she was surprised to see how tall he was already at his 11th birthday. He had inherited something of his father's dark looks, and she thought he had intelligent eyes and more of an easy smile than his father. He looked like a boy who was fully enjoying his life. But perhaps that was because he had just been given Sarah to be his Toy.
Roberto had so looked forward to this birthday and the point where he began to be treated like a grown man at last. His father had, of course, teased him about whether or not he would be given a Toy as a present. Most of him had been sure that he would, but it was still a great excitement to be able to race up to his room to see for himself what sort of Toy his father had found for him.
Sarah could tell straight away that she pleased him, and he liked what he saw. Of course, Sarah was almost the perfect Playboy pin-up girl with her young looks, blonde hair, tremendous tits, great figure, and pouting lips - top and bottom. All the images of naked women that Roberto had seen so far had been online and not in the flesh, and Sarah matched his highest hopes.
And his present didn't need much unwrapping as it had arrived into his room already naked. He liked the facts that her hands were tied behind her back and so was in no hurry to release her. His boyish face was lit up with excited pleasure as he took his first hold of her fabulous tits and experimentally rubbed his thumbs across her nipples.
"Hello Toy. What great tits you've got. I'm going to enjoy them very much." And bent his head down to suck at her left side. When the built-up milk gushed into the back of his mouth, Roberto was even more pleased. He had always wanted to suck at a milky breast, and his new Toy came fully equipped. That was perfect.
Sarah said nothing except "Oh!" as the milk jetted into his mouth and then a soft "Ow!" when Roberto tried biting down quite hard on her nipple.
The happy boy grinned at her. "You will stay here Toy in your space and wait until I get back. I need to have my supper with Father, and then I will return, and you can show me what you have to offer."
And he was gone, and Sarah was left on her own, milk still slightly leaking from the breast that had received less attention. Her head was spinning, but on the whole, she felt that she was doing well. He had liked her, and that was the important thing. She shivered to think what would have happened to her otherwise. So, calming herself and mentally preparing herself for the boy's return, Sarah went back to her space, hands still tied behind her, and waited for the next stage in her introduction to her new life with Roberto.
Sarah did not know if she was allowed to slip down to the kitchen to also look for some food or not. To play safe, she decided simply to stay in her space next to Roberto's room. She did not want to make a basic mistake on her first day.
As it happened, Roberto returned with a large sausage, still warm and covered in gravy, which he enjoyed pushing up into her as she lay on her back across his bed. After he had played with her cunt a little with the sausage, he removed it and told that she could eat it now. And Sarah was hungry enough to be glad to chew it down. Even though he had to feed it to her mouth because her hands were still tied.
For some reason, Roberto preferred to make his opening exploration of Sarah's young body with her hands out of the way. And he delighted in running his hands over and into her, occasionally bending to lick or smell her. This was the first real woman he had ever explored, and he was amazed at the softness of her smooth skin, loved the weighted movement of her tits as she moved, and was excited about pressing his fingers into her cunt hole.
And they did, of course, have sex twice that first evening. Once face to face up her cunt and the second time as his first sampling of the warm wet pleasures of oral sex from Sarah's mouth.
She noticed that his manhood was also fully grown and worked extremely well. Like most excited young men, he came quickly each time, but that did not bother Sarah, and he recycled to be ready again with amazing speed.
At a later point in the evening, Roberto did actually find scissors from his desk and cut through the plastic ties that had been restraining Sarah, and she was able to rub her wrists as the blood flowed through them again.
He left her sprawled on her back across his bed and went to his laptop and began to Google for `Top 20 sex positions' and printed off the results. He wanted to try everything, and his first target would be to work through the top 20 and see what they were like.
Eventually, it reached the point when he needed to crash and sleep. He was holding Sarah in the bed, beginning to experiment on her mouth, and gradually she realized that his lips and tongue were beginning to slow, and so was his breathing. She stayed as still as possible until she was sure that he was fully asleep before slipping out of the boy's bed and returning to her own space where she could spend her first night in her new home. As she closed her eyes, she smiled to herself. It was all going to be fine.
Her alarm woke her promptly at six the next morning. It took only a split second before Sarah remembered where she was and her new role as Roberto's Toy. When she reached his room, she could see that the boy was still very much asleep and wondered how best to wake him to offer him his morning spoonful of sex. She tried putting a hand gently onto his shoulder and shaking him slightly, but that had no effect. So she leaned in and kissed him on the edge of his mouth.
That woke Roberto up, and he looked up at her with bleary eyes until they opened in recognition, and he smiled broadly. "Good morning Toy."
"Your father told me that I had to start each day by asking if you would like some sex now and to make sure that at least you were sucked off before you get into the bathroom. So is there anything I can do for you this morning?"
And he pulled her into the bed, lay on top of her, and was soon pumping vigorously into her gash. And that sent him off cheerfully into the shower before getting dressed and going down to breakfast.
As he went out of the door, he gave her his instructions, which was to make the bed and then go down to the kitchens to see if there was any breakfast waiting for her.And Sarah did as she was told and so did not see Roberto again until the early evening when he returned from school.
Once cleared, Sarah walked down the back stairs for her second meeting with Senora Martinez and Carmen. Again, it was clear that the Senora was in charge. She told Sarah where she should sit at the kitchen table and pushed over a plate of bread and butter for her to eat. Sarah ate hungrily and was pleased when the Senora also made her some fried eggs and gave her coffee to wash it down with.
The Senora was not really interested in asking Sarah about her background or what experiences she had been through. But she was prepared to tell Sarah a little about her Master. She learned that the Master had divorced Roberto's mother a little before the woman had died. Since then, there had been no woman running the house, so she, the Senora, had to run it.
She wanted to impress on Sarah that the Master was a successful and powerful businessman who often had to travel to work his business. And whenever he was away, she was in charge. She agreed that it was good that Sarah had come, as Roberto would then have some company on days when he did not have his father at home.
The Senora agreed that Roberto was a good boy, and it was obvious that she was very fond of him. She therefore impressed on Sarah the importance of looking after him and giving him a good time. Both women, of course, knew that this meant sex, but it wasn't spoken out loud, just understood between them. The dark things that men demanded of their women.
Sarah also learned from the Senora that it was Luis' day off, as it was a Thursday. She told Sarah that the gardener liked either to spend the day in the local village getting drunk with his friends or visited different friends in a nearby farm for the day. She would see him again tomorrow.
The Senora sent Sarah to work with Carmen once she had cleared and washed her breakfast plates. She was sent to find Carmen, who was sorting out clothes in the laundry. When Sarah asked what she should do, Carmen told her to wash the floor, and a little later, Sarah was on her naked knees in wet, soapy water as she scrubbed at the tiled floor.
Sarah felt that Carmen was watching her from the corner of her eye, waiting to speak, but the dark-haired young girl said nothing for a while. But it was true that she did notice the size and weight of Sarah's breasts as they dangled and swung with her brushing movements and the pinkness of her ass held out behind. And out of the blue, Carmen suddenly smacked her hard across her bottom, which startled Sarah and made her sit up with big, frightened eyes, wondering what she had done wrong. Carmen immediately darted in and seized Sarah's pointing left nipple and pinched hard, making Sarah yelp in pain.
"You are such a cow," Carmen hissed, using her hold to pull Sarah's captive tit flesh towards her as far as she could. "You had better not think that you can come into this house and try to use your big tits and open your legs to make trouble for me. I'll be watching you, and I can hurt you - badly - if I want. Just keep remembering that." And with one final sharp bite of her fingernails, she released the tit to flop back.
Sarah was confused by this outburst and responded the only way she knew, which was to submit.
"B-But I just want to be friends with you. You are so beautiful, and I wish I could wear clothes like you do and not be naked all the time. And I know that I am the new girl right at the bottom and everything...." she sobbed.
And that seemed to satisfy Carmen, who allowed Sarah to be around her without attacking her again. And before they went to take their lunch, Carmen even pulled Sarah to her and kissed her deeply, which thrilled the new girl as she wondered if Carmen would become her new special friend in place of Monica.
Strangely, Carmen also took pleasure in Sarah's milk production. She knew the breasts had to be full each evening for Roberto's return, but without saying anything, pulled Sarah to her at a point in the afternoon and sucked deeply on each breast in turn. And when the stretched teats left her mouth dribbling a little of the pale milk, there was a smile of satisfaction that Sarah noticed on Carmen's face, like a purring cat. And that made Sarah warm inside with hope.
That evening, Roberto returned from school with as much excitement as the day before, now looking forward to playing again with his Toy. He was bubbling with ideas and had obviously broken the news to his mates, who were extremely jealous and eager to come round to play too.
The evening raced by, and Roberto came twice inside his Toy, trying out recommended positions one and two from the internet. Position two had Sarah riding him for the very first time as he lay beneath her, and that seemed to please him.
In between actual coitus, his exploration of her biology continued and covered Nipples Stage 1 as well as Clit Stage 1 and a touch on Lubrication. And with every new piece of information, Roberto went to his laptop and searched for data and images to put all sorts of pieces together. And returned with fresh thoughts and ideas to try. He told Sarah that once they had been through all twenty of the recommended sex positions, he was going to set up a video camera on a tripod so that he could create his own demonstration site online where everyone would be able to see how they were done. His eyes shone with excitement and all the pleasure that his Toy would give him.
On Friday morning, Roberto sleepily agreed to allow Sarah to suck him off before he emerged from bed, and so the young blonde crawled under his sheets and took him into her wet mouth and made sure that everything was empty before he hit the shower. In a way, she was as excited and happy as Roberto, as it made her feel so good to be able to offer herself to the boy at this point in his life when it was so important for him to find out all these things.
But once her young stud had returned to school, Sarah found that the Senora has put her down to spend the day working with Luis. There was something about Sarah's enhanced tits that drew Luis. Hardly had they left the kitchen to walk outside when Luis lounged with his back to a wall, arms spread in front of him with open palms and grinning, instructed her "Bring them to me, Whore." And Sarah understood what was required and walked her breasts to him so that they could be squeezed and handled roughly.
And as soon as they reached the potting shed in Luis' garden kingdom, she was pushed down to her knees in front of him, and he opened his grubby trousers and led her open mouth onto his erection. Clasping the back of her head, the gardener sighed with pleasure and began to take full advantage of Sarah's mouth and throat as he stroked it up and down his flesh.
Sarah was still wary of him because she was never sure that she understood what he was feeling or thinking. She was more confused when from his pocket Luis produced a coil of garden twine, which he tied round one of her nipple stalks, passed it round the back of her neck, and then tied the other nipple. And below the nipples, he attached little bells that he used in the garden to keep the birds away, so that for the rest of that day as she helped in the garden, Sarah tinkled as she moved. That seemed to please him. But he hardly spoke to her, which was weird.
And while they lay on his garden rug eating their lunchtime break together in the sunshine, Luis seemed to start to pay more attention to what was between the girls' legs. He began by pushing a grubby cushion under her hips that he normally used as a kneeler when weeding. With her hips raised and her lips more exposed, to her surprise, he returned from his shed with a small basket. Looking inside the basket, he selected a large carrot, leaned in, and firmly pushed it up into Sarah's tunnel.
It was such a large carrot that the top and its greenery stayed outside. And he pulled out the carrot and tried a fat purple eggplant, which stretched Sarah almost to the limit with its wide entry. But it slid in. And so it went as Luis tried her out on onions, potatoes, cucumber, and everything else that was in season. Sarah just kept quiet and tried to go with it. He never tried to use any of the vegetables to get her off - just pushed them in, left them for a short while, and then took them out again without saying anything further.
After that strange introduction to working in the garden with Luis, Sarah had another evening of exploration with Roberto and then it was the weekend. Her Master was away, and maybe because of that, Roberto announced that two of his friends were to come to visit the next day, and they would want to see his Toy. Sarah went to sleep wondering what this would mean for her.
She did not have long to wait the next morning as Roberto's two friends raced into his room to inspect her and, she guessed, to make quite sure that his boasts were real. From their wide grins and noisy chatter, she knew that she met with their approval.
The three eleven-year-old boys were close friends and naturally spoke Spanish to each other, although all three were perfectly able to instruct her in English when needed. Roberto told Sarah to stand still with her hands behind her neck and legs wide to be inspected, and she obeyed instantly. The boys crowded round, and small, strong hands reached out and sampled everything she offered. Sarah noticed that Roberto held back slightly to allow his friends more room.
It was as if only by actually getting their fingers onto her naked skin could the two new boys be certain that they had finally crossed the line and taken hold of a real woman. Hours of internet searching, porn, magazines, and exchanged stories had built up so many inner ideas of what they were searching for, but here at last was the real thing."Why does every male go straight for your tits?" thought Sarah, wincing as yet again her full frontage was given immediate attention. Only a little later did hands wander down to explore the spaces between her legs and over her ass. But there would be plenty of time for everything, as they were all there for the whole weekend.
As the Master was away that weekend on a business trip, Senora Martinez and Carmen were also able to take time off, and the Senora would just visit at the beginning and the end of the day to take care of providing meals for the young people. Luis was still going to be around, and he could keep an eye on the boys and make sure that they had everything they needed. For today, the Senora had made up a picnic basket, and there was plenty to drink in the kitchen fridges.
And as the three boys carried their picnic, backpack of cans of beer, and everything else they might need for their day towards the Summer House, Roberto told Sarah a little of what they planned.
"Now that we are all eleven, we are going to celebrate, and we are going to fuck you eleven times each, once for each year. So you should have some fun! To make sure that we do it properly, we will use your cunt, mouth, and ass in turn. We are going to draw cards for who goes into which one first, and we will then move round each time. And in between, we will see what people want."
"But your father the Master told me I mustn't...." Sarah protested, anxious not to make a big mistake when she had strictly been told to keep her cunt exclusively for Roberto.
"Ah, don't worry about that. The doctor told my father that you will not be able to have any babies for around six months, so in these first three or four months, there is no risk. And they are my friends, so I don't mind sharing."
Somewhere deep inside her, Sarah registered: Oh my God, in six months, I am going to be pregnant!
Sarah had not even been told the names of the other two boys, and they seemed to use Spanish nicknames between themselves, which she could not catch or understand. So in her mind, she thought of them as One and Two. One was as tall as Roberto and broader in the chest, as if he was something of an athlete. He seemed to be the natural leader of the threesome, as she soon noticed that Roberto paid great attention to what he suggested.
Two was shorter and had not yet done as much growing. He looked more like a brain person but was always cracking jokes to make the others laugh. Sarah supposed that was why he was part of the gang.
And in the warm sunshine, the rugs were spread out in front of the Summer House, and the three boys scored the first of their eleven targets. Roberto went first, having drawn her mouth. And he let her do all the work by lying down on his back and pulling the blonde girl face down onto him so that her mouth could swallow him into its wet warmth.
He was followed by One, who had drawn her cunt, which he quickly entered, thrusting furiously. And once he had spurted his load into the Toy, there was a bit of trouble getting Two's thinner prick into her ass as Sarah positioned herself on hands and knees. One of them remembered Last Tango in Paris, and the picnic butter successfully solved the problem so that Two's initiation was also well managed. All three boys were extremely pleased with themselves and began on the beer and the food.
Sarah felt a bit like a blow-up toy that the boys could pick up to use and then throw down again, but she still trembled when she remembered her Master's awful story about cutting out the tongue from his Toy when she talked too much and began to nag. So Sarah made quite sure that she only spoke when they required it and worked hard at being quiet until they needed her again.
Presumably, the three boys were exchanging boasts about how great they had been, but she couldn't understand. One did bring her a can of beer, which she gratefully drank down because the day was warm, and she was sitting in full sunshine.
Once the boys had drunk and eaten enough to refresh themselves, they decided to take photos to post onto Facebook so their friends would see. Again, they decided to pose in turn while one or other of the remaining friends took the photo with their cameraphones.
There was a close-up of Sarah's amazing breasts filling the full frame.
There was one of a happy face looking over her shoulder while both hands dug into her tit flesh.
There were sideways-on photos of fingers pinching nipples and pulling so that her breast was stretched to its limit.
There was one of Sarah on her back while hands pulled her ankles towards her shoulders, exposing everything.
Close-ups were taken of her cunt, both closed and with the outer lips pushed open.
All three boys had their photo taken with Sarah's open mouth around their pricks.
And of the shot looking down to show their pricks entering into Sarah's cunt.
And with the help of some more kitchen lubrication, there was even a set of three that showed the boys pushing their right hands and arms up inside Sarah's cunt to achieve fisting.
Each photo was posted to Facebook, where no doubt their linked friends would be beginning to post comments. Everyone would know what a great time they were having and wonder how they could get some too.
That had stirred the boys up again, and so they performed their second round of fucking Sarah. This time, Roberto had moved to her cunt, One to her ass, and Two satisfied himself by entering her mouth.
More beer, and One suggested that they get her to masturbate herself, which they could also video and post online. This was yet another thing that Sarah had never done in front of anyone else and never expected to have to do. Humiliated, but knowing that she could only do as she was instructed, Sarah was arranged sitting on a cushion, back against a tree, and told to begin.
Sarah's right hand went down and began to stroke lightly down there as the cameraphones began to record. Taking her hand back into her mouth to pick up saliva a couple of times, Sarah started the lubrication she needed and felt her body respond. Her knees opened a little wider, and she got to work. With their high megapixel counts and zoom lenses, the boys' cameras were able to capture every detail to digital. And they could choose between framing the whole of Sarah or zooming in to her cunt where her fingers worked.
Pressing, rubbing, and stroking around her clit and occasionally dipping into the entrance to her vagina, Sarah climbed slowly towards her climax. As it finally started to happen, her body naturally responded, and the boys could see her rubbing harder and intensely at her clit while her breathing came faster and faster until it broke through her in a great rush.
One and Two were on their knees filming right next to her to catch as much as possible on film. And as Sarah's pulse rate began to slow down again, One reached in and tried his hand at rubbing her clit in nearly the same way she had done. And Two experimented by sliding his bottle of cold beer into her sopping cunt.
The third round of fucking seemed like a cause of celebration because all three boys had now come in each of Sarah's holes. They had the full set. It probably imprinted in them the idea that you had only truly taken a woman when you had visited all of her three holes, but that was for the future. After some drinking and checking to see what food was left, the warmth of the afternoon seemed to slow their pace down, and Sarah was given a bit of peace. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sunshine.
By the end of the afternoon, the boys were almost half-way as their growing manhood had entered Roberto's Toy five times. One seemed set on being a macho stud, as far as Sarah could see, and his visits were short as he pumped furiously and came quickly. His favorite position seemed to be rear entry with Sarah on her hands and knees while he pumped into her from behind, hands clutching at her tits.
Two, on the other hand, was naturally slower and did not mind spending longer over his coitus with the girl, sliding slowly in and out and easing into a much more modest unloading of youthful cells. And he seemed to most enjoy her mouth, whether she was nursing him on his back or when he held her head and controlled the speed of sliding towards her throat.
But Two also seemed to be the most obsessed with her breasts.
Sometime after they had eaten lunch, he had discovered the milky side to Sarah as her breasts by that time were full and eager to be emptied. Mid-suck, Two had found sweet milk squirting into the back of his mouth and was delighted. Of course, by then, he had drunk quite a lot of beer and was soon to be sick. So a good deal of the expressing of Sarah's milk that afternoon was done by Two starting a game of smashing his hands together and clapping one or other breast so that milk jetted out in a spray. This he found amazingly funny and did it again and again.
And that seemed to start a run of activities, larger painful to Sarah, which centered on enjoying her breasts. She was made to do jumping jacks in front of them just so the boys could laugh at the way her flesh mounds flew and banged against each other. And the increasingly drunken boys played with seeing how much of a breast they could put into their mouth, starting from a nipple. They stretched and pulled the nipples, checked to see if they could be made to reach up to Sarah's mouth. They wanted to tie them up at the base to make them balloon out, but no one had any string, so that would have to wait for the moment. They even discussed half-seriously what would happen if they put a rope round her breast and suspended Sarah from a tree. Would her weight pull her breasts off? Luckily for Sarah, there was no rope, and it was unlikely the boys would remember that one the next day.So they settled instead on slapping her breasts as Sarah tried her hardest to remain still, standing in front of them with her hands behind her neck. Even Roberto joined in, and something in Sarah was sad that her young Master was ready to hurt her. But the gang was almost out of control by now, and she knew that she had to endure and take whatever they wanted to do to her.
As they headed back to the main house at the end of the afternoon, they decided that they had played enough with Sarah and would now move onto computer gaming. But as they had not quite reached their target, they agreed to set an alarm for 5 in the morning. They could then have their next round with Sarah, which would put them on six and just leave the final five to be fitted in the next day.
And sure enough, Sarah's night as she slept alone on her single bed in her space next to Roberto's room was duly ended by the three boys taking their next turn. She gave them what they wanted and went back to sleep. And each boy had been twice round her circuit.
The next day was easier on Sarah because there was less excitement. The boys seemed a little hung over from their beer, and although they completed their target for the day and fucked Sarah each another five times, maybe there was less interest because they had seen it all the day before. But their hormones kept pumping, and so did their sperm.
Two did remember his idea of tying string round the base of her breasts and tied the string tightly. Sarah spent almost half the day with her balloons under pressure in front of her, increasingly uncomfortable as the trapped blood made the breasts darken and her day's milk found nowhere to go.
And she was very glad when the attempt to throw darts into these balloons was abandoned after a few throws, because Sarah feared that a dart would end somewhere like her eye. She could hear One suggesting that he bring his air rifle next time to see how that went - and that didn't sound good.
Computer games or internet searches for porn photos and videos distracted them, and Sarah would find that just after they had clipped clothes pegs to bite into her nipple stalks, they would crowd round the computer to look at some exciting video and pay no attention to how long she had to stand there suffering. Sooner or later, though, someone would half notice and take the things off, causing a hugely painful rush of blood back into the battered nips.
Fisting out her cunt also seemed to have carried over from the previous day, partly because One had searched for more examples on the internet and that had sparked them off again. The boys were using some of Roberto's shampoo from his bathroom as the lubricant, and Sarah wasn't as sure how that would be inside her the next morning. But they found that fisting went better when she was on her hands and knees than on her back, so a good deal of time was spent like that. All three boys were going to end the weekend very experienced in the feel of her inner channels.
But Sarah survived. The friends left happily, so it seemed likely that they would be back soon to enjoy playing with her again. Sarah was unsure how it would be between herself and Roberto after they had gone, but that same evening she felt Roberto reconnect with her, and that made her feel safe. As long as she could please her young Master, everything would be alright.
They even managed to achieve position 4 from Roberto's list, even though he had already come five times in the day. They were making progress, and then Roberto would go back with her and record them all on camera for his internet site.
He was still a little exhausted sexually the next morning when the alarm went, and it took longer for Sarah's attentive mouth to bring him off before he wandered away into the bathroom and then to school. Sarah went through her own morning routine to clean herself, Roberto's room, and then went for her breakfast. All of the house servants were back, and Sarah was told to spend the day helping Carmen.
It turned out to be a day in which Sarah saw both sides of Carmen's complicated nature. For most of the morning, Carmen was cold and hostile to Sarah as they worked together cleaning the house. But in an effort to reach out to Carmen, Sarah risked gently asking about her father, the Master, in one of their breaks. And then the dark girl opened up to her a bit more.
Carmen explained to Sarah that she never knew where she stood with her father. Both of them took for granted that she was his daughter, but he never acknowledged her or saw her as anything but his own creation with a servant. She never counted and felt that she never would. But she did not believe that the Master would ever let her leave except to some painful end. Carmen began to cry as she confided in Sarah that her father still took her into his bed for sex twice a year, on his birthday and on her birthday. But otherwise never touched her.
Perhaps because of her support in this sharing of confidence, that afternoon was the first time that Sarah gave oral sex to a woman. Carmen seized her almost without warning, kissed her deeply, and pulled Sarah to her knees in front of her before raising her skirts and pushing Sarah's mouth towards her slit.
By now, Sarah had no inhibitions in applying her experience giving oral relief to men to the woman in front of her. It was a little disturbing the first time, and the smells were certainly very different, but she felt warm towards her and extended her tongue.
But a little later, Sarah felt that Carmen had withdrawn emotionally from her again, so she was not sure how things would go from now on.
That evening, Roberto was excited to show her some of the picnic photos that had been posted to his Facebook page and encouraged Sarah to read the comments that his friends had posted. It looked as if she was going to be famous and in demand if Roberto gave them permission. She could tell that this helped Roberto's standing in the school and was glad. She even watched the video that the boys had taken of her masturbating herself to a climax. The video as posted was a mixture of images taken by the three of them, edited together by Two who apparently knew how to do that sort of thing. Sarah blushed to see her private life so exposed to the world. What would people think of her?
The Master had returned from his trip, so part of the evening Roberto spent with him, and Sarah felt sure that if his father asked about his Toy, Roberto's reply would be that he was highly pleased with his present.
They managed to tick one more position off Roberto's target list before falling asleep, and then the day rolled round to her next day to be spent with Luis in the garden.
Luis was the handyman who made repairs around the house when needed. He was practical and worked with many different tools. So maybe it is not surprising that his attitude to having access to Sarah involved tools, models, and practical projects.
After pushing Sarah down onto her knees in his greenhouse to receive his usual morning offering of oral relief, Luis set about the things that he had obviously planned for her next visit.
One of Luis' hobbies was model making, using casts of latex, and he had decided to take a cast of the inside of Sarah's snatch. To get that, he had to fix Sarah upside down, and he had therefore worked on a way of using ropes, ties, and pulleys to fix her firmly in place in his greenhouse, legs in the air.
Once she had been tied upside down, Luis turned on his radio as background music while he busied himself preparing the casting. With her head near the ground, Sarah could not see what he was up to as he bent over her snatch and had no idea, of course, of what he planned. But for Luis, the first step was to build a perimeter for the mould, which he did with modelling clay, as a two-inch high wall circling round her outer lips.
Once the boundary had been created, Luis checked that the ropes tying Sarah in place were as tight as possible and her position opened her central hole as much as possible. All was well, so he mixed up his mixture and poured in the latex, filling her insides right up and then more until the liquid latex covered everything inside of the boundary right up to the top of his edge wall.
Luckily for the tightly bound girl, the latex set very quickly. The heat generated deep inside her made Sarah want to squirm, but when she tried to move, she quickly found it impossible and had to close her eyes and endure the pain. But less than five minutes later, the latex was firmly set, and Luis triumphantly pulled out from her a stalactite in rubber that modeled her completed insides. The gardener placed his trophy proudly on a shelf in the greenhouse, and Sarah expected that she would now be free.
But Luis' strange mind had obviously been overloaded with ideas for what he could do with the blonde American girl so wonderfully offered to him. With Sarah still tied and fixed rigidly with her waist in the air and her legs roped wide open, Luis brought out two eggs which he calmly cracked by tapping them against her pubic bone and let the contents pour into her open vagina. Using a short piece of bamboo, Luis made sure that the yolks had broken and stirred deep inside her so that Sarah could feel the liquid egg sloshing inside her down near her womb.
That was strange enough for the helpless girl, but the next part of Luis' plan really freaked her out. Because he produced a white tub which turned out to be full of the fat little yellow maggots that were eaten as a delicacy in Luis' home village. Smiling, the gardener bent down to held one of the fat wriggling things in front of her face to show her and then pushed two or three into her mouth, making chewing motions. "Good. Good," he assured her, encouraging her to try.And seconds after Sarah had registered the shock of wriggling maggots in her mouth, the gardener stood again and happily tipped the tub over her snatch so that the remaining maggots slipped or were pushed down into her hole towards their waiting egg meal. Luis patted the top of her cunt in satisfaction and went away to do some gardening. Sarah was left to scream helplessly as she imagined crowds of fat yellow maggots moving and wriggling inside her privates. But once again, all she could do was to endure.
Part of her mind was panicking over what Roberto would say if he found a maggot or two still inside her that evening, but she hoped that the boy would take it out on Luis and not on her.
It turned out that wasn't a problem because in the middle of the afternoon, long after Sarah's muscles had begun to ache really badly from their tensed positions, Luis returned and cleaned her insides out again. He did that neatly by partly releasing her legs, not her hands, flipping her into a new position, and pushing his hose pipe into her. Turning on the water tap made a powerful hammering of water jetting into her tubes. The water could go nowhere but out from her cunt once it was full, and that also managed to wash away the remains of egg mixture and maggots. Once the gardener was sure that she had been fully hosed out, he pulled the end out from her and spent a few minutes directing the jet straight at her exposed little clit and enjoying the way it made Sarah thrash and jump - somewhere in the space between pain and pleasure.
Certainly, there was nothing for Roberto to notice in the evening, and that made Sarah relieved. He never asked her what she had done during the day while he had been at school, but she assumed that if he found her in the evening covered in any marks or bruises, that might be different. But so far, neither Carmen nor Luis had left any tell-tale signs on her.
That evening, Roberto reached a full 69 position as he worked his way through the top twenty list, and that turned out to be an important moment for Sarah in her relationship with her young Master. They had gone into action with Roberto on top, Sarah underneath. But it had gone so well, their movements beginning to respond and react to each other, that they had rolled without breaking contact so that part of the time had been on their sides facing into each other, and then they ended with Sarah on top.
Sarah knew that it had been different. For the first time, they had made love with each other and to each other. Before that, she had just been helping him to learn how to fuck her. This had been between them at a much warmer, real way, and she was sure that Roberto had felt it too. She took the risk of kissing him with some passion, although she did not risk saying anything further.
Very occasionally, Sarah was allowed to spend a day helping the Senora in her kitchen, but that was rare. Otherwise, her days continued to be alternated between Carmen and Luis. Days with Carmen were easier for Sarah, even though she could be unpredictable. Sometimes Sarah felt that she was working with a spitting cat. And other days, Carmen was warm and demanding as if they were old lovers.
Her days with Luis were strange, as they seemed to depend on whatever the gardener had thought up for her this time. She spent one entire day in the middle of a planted field tied to a wooden frame as a naked scarecrow. Plenty of black birds still visited the field around her, so she felt that she hadn't been a particularly effective scarecrow. And she got drenched when rain came down on her.
But at her next visit, he introduced a solution to her milk production. Soon after he had received his usual morning release into her warm mouth, Sarah found that he had tied her hands again behind her back. Luis took her to where there was a wire chicken run - about ten feet long but square and low across - and he pushed Sarah in.
For a moment, Sarah panicked that the plan for today was to have her pecked at by hens in the run, but Luis returned with a box, and when opened, produced five small piglets. Pink and almost blind, they were quite cute, really, Sarah thought, and in they came to her run to spend the morning with her. And very soon, the smell of her milk brought two of the porkers to suckle at her breasts while those who had missed out struggled to push through for their turn.
And after the first moment holding her breath, Sarah found that it was actually very soothing to feel her milk flow out into their greedy little snouts.
Every since she had been engineered to be chemically pregnant (even though she wasn't really), her breast milk had been ready waiting for her baby to arrive. And when Joker had begun to feed from her, it triggered a message that her baby was here, and her breasts produced more milk. No one was now regularly releasing that flow - Roberto occasionally, Carmen from time to time - but she truly could do with a babe at her breast to ease the pressure. And she found that the piglets were fine and relaxed into giving herself to them.
That feeding experiment went so well that Luis did not even bother to tie her arms behind her back the next three times the piglets came. Sarah simply crawled into the hen run, lay down, and waited for the excited pink snouts to run towards her milk. When they grew too large to be brought easily to her, Luis tried her on feeding an orphaned lamb, and that too was nursed at Sarah's generous breasts. She was nearly a mother now.
Sometime after Roberto had reached the end of the top twenty ways to fuck and was beginning to work his way back through them again, one a night, taking them more slowly now as they were videoed and posted to his one internet site, another line was crossed.
The piglets and the lamb that Luis had brought to feed from her all came from a local farm where Luis was courting the daughter of the family. It was unusual for Sarah to see Luis speaking to Roberto, but one Saturday morning when she was being used again by his visiting friends that she called One and Two, she noticed them together and felt that some plan was being hatched and that it would involve her, of course.
At the time, she was distracted because both One and Two had spent themselves into her cunt, and now while One grasped her hands, Two was idly pushing worms into the jism that they had left inside her. She barely noticed when Roberto discussed something with his two friends out of her hearing, which made them chortle and laugh out loud as they looked at her.
Things came to a head that evening when Sarah found herself right back in a familiar situation. She was in a barn with the three boys now her eager audience, all of three feet away from her to get a close-up view. Luis had done the tying, and she was on her back, helpless to protect herself from anything or anyone. And the first animal that Luis brought in to meet her was a large, scruffy male goat.
Compared to the dogs that Sarah had travelled with and grown used to over that month, the goat did not seem experienced or even very intelligent. It was certainly drawn immediately to Sarah's offered groin area, and the boys were excited to see the goat's long tongue slurp into action. But for a while, it looked as if the goat was more interested in eating her - literally - than in fucking her.
Hormones eventually had their way in its brain, and after a while, it duly stepped up over Sarah's prone body to aim its manhood. After a couple of stabs that missed, Luis stepped round and guided the goat in. And then things all came naturally, and its strange yellow eyes seemed to light up with the pleasure of this unexpected opportunity. Sarah gasped as the goat pounded at her entrance, forcing himself as far into her as possible until he lifted his head in celebration and shuddered, sending a full sac's worth of goat cells into her welcoming warmth.
There was no knot to accommodate this time, so it was not long before the goat had been persuaded to withdraw, to lick Sarah intimately for a final time, and then led away. Luis had also brought up the main ram from the farm who spent his entire day tupping females in the field to create as many lambs as possible. He was almost a professional and did not seem to hesitate when Sarah was offered to him. Perhaps the goat cum smell helped to trigger off the correct ideas.
The ram performed strongly, like an animal that has come so many times already that day that this one last demand was a little too much, but he would oblige anyway. In Sarah's memories, it reminded her of happy days with Ringo and Joker, and she squeezed encouragingly in response. Soon enough, sheep fluid had joined in with goat fluid, and Sarah's show was over.
But the boys had, of course, videoed it all on their phones, and within a short time, Sarah was internationally famous again. All over the planet, people were enjoying watching her in action, being taken in the barn.
The boys' enthusiasm did lead to Roberto asking his father if he could have a dog now, and it didn't surprise Sarah to find that when the puppy came, it was very large and very male. The dog was to sleep in her space next to Roberto's room so she would have company at night.
Sarah settled as best she could to enjoy her new life in her Master's home. And a little more than six months later, she did become fertile again and not long after that, she fell pregnant by Roberto for the first time.
In all, she had two babies with Roberto, and they were both girls. She only saw each baby once before they were taken away so that wet nurses could bring them up until they reached a point where their future could be decided, according to their beauty and their temperament. As far as she knew, Sarah never met them again.After three years as Roberto's toy, when he had reached fourteen, he began to get bored with playing with her, no matter how hard she tried to keep his interest. He could see that he was becoming preoccupied with the girls at his school who were his own age and had simply tired of her.
She was lucky. Roberto did not send her for medical spare parts or sell her to an Amazon logging camp, but gave her to Luis as a wedding present. Luis was marrying the local girl from the farm and would leave the house to work there. Very soon, Luis and his new wife would own and run the farm on their own, as her parents were ready to retire.
Luis had asked about having Sarah there, and his wife had given her permission - as long as she was always treated as part of the livestock, living in the barns and fields and never entering the house. Luis' wife did not mind if the blonde girl was treated as part of the goat herd, lived with the cattle, or with the pigs. They would see where she settled best.
On the farm, of course, each year the cows were mated to produce fresh calves to sell or to increase the herd. And the mothers produced their milk for their new calves and kept on producing their milk even after their calves had been taken away, because they were fed hormones and were taken to the milking machines each evening. Luis' wife suggested that Sarah should be handled in the same way - made pregnant and then fed hormones to maximize milk production, and clipped into milking tubes each evening to keep her flow going for the rest of the year. And Luis was happy to agree with his clever wife.
He worked at producing a tethering set of ropes that hobbled Sarah in such a way that she could not stand up any longer but had to spend her day on her hands and knees. And once he had tied the blonde girl into her new ropes, Luis left her in the yard, slapping her on the rump, and went in to see what his new wife had prepared for their evening meal. | null | 1. Capture | Authors/Kingdom/The Cascade.txt |
89,512 | Dick Quon | Young Alice part VII | Young Alice brushed her gorgeous shoulder-length blonde hair. She gazed in the mirror and blushed at seeing her own beauty. The 15-year-old was in a posh suite at the downtown Westin Hotel awaiting the arrival of two college basketball recruits.
A tear welled up in her eye as she thought how her life had come to this. A year ago, her former boyfriend video-taped them having sex. Her "Uncle" Ron caught them and held the tape as blackmail over Alice, who was the daughter of Ron's girlfriend. Now Alice was set up as a regular lover of Joe Washington, Ron's black boss.
Joe was an active booster at State U. and part of the "entertainment" committee. Two players from a Texas JUCO were making a recruiting trip. Coach Knight wanted them to enjoy everything that the city had to offer. Joe immediately thought of using Alice for sex versus one of the college co-eds. The co-eds always wanted money and sometimes demanded hush money after the fact. Alice would offer the ballplayers and Joe "safe sex."
Alice wore a sheer pink negligee that Joe had picked out. It accented her lush breasts and delightful curves perfectly. At just under 5-feet and 100 pounds, Alice was an absolute head-turner at high school and anywhere else she went for that matter.
She had soaked in the tub, then applied the expensive perfume that Joe had bought her. Alice was one hot, sexy package as the guys would soon find out.
Finally, at 9 p.m., she heard the hotel room door open, and in stepped Joe with the two giant black ballplayers, Kobe and Daryl. They had just finished dinner at the finest steak house in town, and Joe had promised them dessert at the Westin.
Both black men were astounded at their good fortune. Alice was even more beautiful than they had been led to believe. She was a blue-eyed blonde goddess with a model's face, firm young breasts, a tight shaved pussy, and lovely white skin. An absolute turn-on in every way. Their mouths watered, and their cocks stiffened, knowing she was theirs to do whatever they wanted tonight. And the final insult, unbeknownst to Joe and Coach Knight, was that Kobe and Daryl weren't even that interested in playing ball at State U.
Joe introduced Alice to the ballplayers. Kobe was 20 and had already attended three schools as a basketball nomad. Daryl was 19 and had already been kicked off the Texas team for three sexual misconduct charges that were eventually dropped.
The black men wasted no time in stripping naked, revealing oversized cocks. Alice had already had sex with a few black men, and the stereotype seemed true - all black men were hung like horses.
Kobe, who was a 6'6" swingman, directed the action. He yanked the sheer pink negligee over Alice's head, exposing her perfect body to them. Kobe lay in bed and had Alice sit on his face so he could eat her pussy. Then, while they were positioned on the bed, 6'10" Daryl stood in front of Alice with his stiff 10-inch pecker slapping her in the face.
Kobe had eaten lots of hot white pussy before, and he knew it was sweet as honey. He wanted to make sure he lapped up her pink sugar scoop now before they'd cum in her tiny love chamber a bunch of times. Alice resigned herself to another long night of wild, unbridled sex with two well-hung black men, trying to remain as emotionally detached as possible. These men meant nothing to her, but everything to Joe and, in turn, her Uncle Ron's job security.
Alice took one hand and massaged Daryl's tennis-sized ball sac while gently suckling on his massive cockhead. It was one giant cock, just a smidge longer than Kobe's, she surmised. Alice adroitly licked back and forth the length of his charcoal cannon and swallowed as much as she could, which was about half his enormous hammer. She used her small tongue to pleasure his underneath glans, and after a few minutes, Daryl started to get into the rhythms of the young girl's hand pumping and mouth sucking.
Kobe zeroed in on Alice's clitoris in no time flat. He popped the skin lid off her clit and quickly began an unmerciful punishment of her shiny pearl. Kobe slid a couple of his long fingers inside her tiny twat to stir up even more love juices. After 10 minutes of this, Alice could hardly concentrate on the hard black bone that Daryl was trying to force down her throat.
Meanwhile, Joe had come with a disc camera and was ready to shoot the proceedings. He was just biding his time so the trio would become so engrossed with each other sexually that they would ignore him.
"Mmmmm-mmmmm-mmmm," moaned Kobe as he ate out Alice's sweet snatch like he was a hungry black bear who'd found honey. That familiar warmth was overcoming Alice as she began to perspire with love sweat due to an impending orgasm. Daryl was loving the attention his love muscle was receiving from Alice's sensational mouth. He grasped the sides of her head and began to draw his cock in and out of her mouth.
Joe took that as his cue to start taking pictures. His timing was perfect as all three lovers paid no attention to the amateur photographer.
Alice was uncomfortable from having the big black log jammed down her throat. Her head and mouth were too small for such an enormous flesh weapon. But Daryl was determined to drill his hard dick down her throat and shoot cum straight into her gullet.
Kobe was enjoying his nourishment as Alice's love tunnel was now sopping wet with juices. A final tongue attack on her defenseless clitoris forced her over the edge and into a seemingly endless orgasm. Alice was moaning and groaning in pleasure as the sexual animal inside her took over her emotions. Her mind and body were reeling in sexual delight, and her stomach muscles were rolling as if being punched by a boxer.
Alice involuntarily was lost in orgasm and a willing puppet of Daryl's, who kept prodding his penis further and further down her narrow throat passage. Alice later could barely remember his black meat sausage being stuffed one final time past her tonsils. Daryl barked at her to suck it all and keep pumping with her hands. Alice obediently grabbed the base of Daryl's cock as hard as she could and stroked it between his pubic bone and her lips, which were tightly wrapped midway round his jackhammer.
Alice continued tonguing the glands underneath his cockhead until she felt a hot liquid flowing out the end of his wide piss slit. Daryl's generous cum shot splashed against the back of Alice's throat and poured past her tonsils and down into her stomach. Her hands kept pumping more gism from his penis until, after the sixth or seventh shot, she was getting bloated with sperm.
Daryl was dripping sweat as he enjoyed the best nursing that his dick had ever received. And he had been sucked off by plenty of girls, pros and amateurs.
The first hour of lovemaking had yielded two mammoth orgasms, but the night was still young.
Kobe hadn't even had anyone touch his dick yet, but it was rock hard and ready to fight.
He had Alice lie back in bed in a semi-conscious state. Kobe then rubbed the head of his cock against the wetness of Alice's vagina so he could lubricate his entrance. Kobe had fucked many women, but he was kind enough to know his massive dick could tear up a young teen like Alice, so he made sure the first fuck was wet, and then he could get really wild.
Alice looked up at Kobe, who asked her, "Are you ready?" She nodded her head to begin her next sexual odyssey. Kobe pointed his sledgehammer right at her small opening. He pushed inside her a couple of inches and then waited. Alice's pussy lips stretched obscenely to grasp the big head of Kobe's dick. He knew right away she was a tight one, and this fuck was going to be memorable.
Kobe then jammed in a few more inches until he was halfway home. Alice instinctively wrapped her lovely legs around Kobe's buttocks to widen her hips and to draw him in deeper. Kobe leaned in to start kissing this blonde ingenue. He started a slow in and out of her narrow love tunnel, making sure that his flesh weapon was fully coated with her flowing love juices. Deeper and deeper Kobe went, inch by inch, until with one final slide, he was balls deep inside of her.
Alice pulled Kobe's mouth to hers so she could wrestle her tongue with his. The two lovers began to copulate in the time-honored ritual. Alice was as full of cock as she could ever remember, and she adored Kobe for being so careful and loving with her body.
Daryl and Joe were enjoying the fucking as much as one could without being a participant in the sex act. Kobe's dick felt like it was being masturbated by a silk glove. He could not believe he was balls deep inside such a tiny girl who, in turn, was fucking him back as hard as any girl ever had.
Joe kept taking nice pictures of the oblivious oreo lovers. Alice was in a dream-like state, enjoying the fucking from Kobe so much. She had just had one gigantic orgasm, and now her body was rolling into a second, more titanic explosion. Alice was sucking hard on Kobe's tongue, and her legs were wrapped around him like a white cobra.She was lifting her ass off the bed, trying to massage his oversized penis as physically as she could. Kobe's mind was flashing to all the cum shots he'd given white chicks, but this one was going to take the cake. Kobe felt his penis was attached to a velvet milking machine that was trying to extract all of his jism.
Finally, after 30 minutes of acrobatic fucking, the friction from Kobe's black bopper on Alice's clit made her cum in a mind-shattering explosion. Alice wanted to scream, but her mouth was attached at the lips with Kobe's. The final muscle contractions from her pussy around his dick were the final straw to set him off shooting.
Kobe moaned when the release started, and his sperm rocketed from his penis and filled up her vagina. The hot white paste filled up her cervix and love canal, and then it had nowhere else to go. Kobe kept stroking into the tight teen with his hot poker, never wanting it to end and wondering when he would stop shooting cum spurts inside the adorable young hottie. One squirt after another exited his penis until the overflow spilled down Alice's ass crack to collect in a puddle beneath the two lovers.
Finally, the sex act was over, and the black and white lovers collapsed in a tired heap of sweaty flesh. "That was really great, you were terrific," Kobe grinned. "You weren't too bad yourself," whispered Alice, who gave him a playful peck on the cheek.
Kobe's dick was still lodged inside the little angel, serving as a dam to keep his cum pooled up inside her. "Damn, if I make a fine white girl like her pregnant," Kobe thought to himself. "That'll be one good-looking kid."
Kobe was content to rest while laying atop the petite blonde, but Daryl was ready to go again. Kobe rolled over, his penis exiting with an audible pop. His black pecker was coated white from their combined love juices. Daryl had Alice kneel in the doggy position. Then he stroked himself to ultra hardness once again and zeroed in on her thin love passage.
Kobe's cum was dripping from her snatch, but that didn't concern Daryl. He surely settled for sloppy seconds to fuck as fine a filly as this. Daryl leaned forward and jammed his woody into her soggy orifice. Alice gasped as it felt like a little league baseball bat going up inside of her. "Oh, momma, you are gonna love this," panted a hot and bothered Daryl. He grabbed her slim hips so he could slide himself to and fro without missing a beat. An exhausted Alice was not so much a participant in this fuckfest, but more like a love receptacle for his generous cum juice.
"Whap...whap...whap" was all you could hear as the flesh of the two lovers pounded into one another. Alice just buried her face in a fluffy pillow, the constant pounding of Daryl's hammer was taking a toll on her sexual emotions. She would soon be peaking again against her own wishes, but she was helpless against this black male onslaught.
Joe kept on taking picture after picture. "I could make a best-selling calendar with these photos," thought the wicked businessman in him. These photos would show an underage blonde girl being completely overwhelmed by two charcoal black mandingos. And to them, the night was still very early.
Another 20 minutes of slamming his thick meat into her adorable pink pussy was more than either party could stand. Alice was forced into another electrifying orgasm. She moaned loudly into the pillow, saliva flowing freely from her pouty lips. Daryl had manhandled a lot of white chicks, but this was better, much, much better. He was probing his 10-inches of manhood as far as it would go inside her honeycloister until it too had to release its pent-up jism. "Oh, shit!" exclaimed Daryl as he came in buckets inside of Alice's love cradle this time instead of her mouth.
Alice could feel the jet streams of cum splashing against her inner-walls. It was almost like someone had taken a water gun and started firing hot liquid deep inside of her. Again, her hole was filled to capacity, so as Daryl kept jamming himself into her, the white pasty seed was forced out of her hole and spilled onto the both of them. Finally, Daryl stopped pumping into Alice, and he collapsed on top of her. She, in turn, buckled under the weight and was literally trapped between Daryl and the completely cum-soaked bedsheets.
Alice turned her head to see Joe still standing there. She had been fucking him for nearly a year, and now he was just a spectator. As much as Joe wanted to rip off his clothes and do Alice on the bed, he knew this was a night for the two ballplayers only.
It was near 11 p.m., and Alice had no idea how much longer this would take. The three black men left the bedroom to get some drinks from the fridge. Alice crawled out of bed to go to the bathroom for a moment of respite. She looked at herself in the mirror, her hair was matted down, drenched in sweat. Her body had white spots where sperm had landed on her. When she went to pee on the toilet, a flood of sperm squirted out of her privates first.
The wicked part of her enjoyed the sex and the orgasms. But none of her friends or schoolmates knew that this virginal girl next door led such a sordid double life. When she cheered at the football games in her sexy little outfit, all the fathers of the players fantasized what it would be like to fuck a girl like that. Little did they know that slowly but surely, more and more men were experiencing just that magical feeling. | null | null | Authors/quon_shs/Young Alice part VII by Dick Quon.txt |
89,513 | Dick Quon | Young Alice, part VI | Young Alice celebrated her 15th birthday with a candlelight dinner with Uncle Ron. It had been an amazing year since her Uncle found a video tape of Alice having sex with her former high school boyfriend.
Uncle Ron had introduced her to sex with much older men, including black men with giant cocks. Alice was no slut, but she learned to enjoy the sex and never failed to have a satisfying orgasm or two.
In the spirit of her 15th birthday, Ron had a job for Alice this weekend. One of the men who saw Alice have sex with Tim Anderson at his bachelor party told Ron his dad was having a retirement party. His dad was 55 and had never cheated on his wife. The son now wanted Alice to pop out of his dad's retirement cake and then have hot sex with him. The key was the money, $2,000 for one night of lust.
Alice was typically reticent about doing Uncle Ron's dirty work, but she agreed to perform nonetheless.
On Friday night, Alice waited in the car until Uncle Ron summoned her to the hotel suite. Once there, she climbed into an oversized paper mache cake. Young Alice sat inside naked except for some white icing that covered her nipples and shaved pussy.
Once inside the cake, it was only a few minutes before a noisy gang of men entered the suite. Uncle Ron told the retiring Harry Carson that there was a special gift for him waiting inside the giant cake.
As Harry tore apart the paper mache, he spied a gorgeous blonde girl sitting before him. After Harry had torn the cake to shreds, he gazed at the most beautiful young girl he had ever laid eyes upon. He drank up her beauty in lusty gulps and felt his organ harden in his pants.
"Hi," said Alice, smiling sweetly at the 55-year-old, "I'm yours to do whatever you want tonight."
Harry's son had given his dad a double dose of Viagra to spike his sex drive for the night. Harry was glad he did because he wanted to enjoy this forbidden fruit more than once.
Alice stood up and began to take Harry's clothes off. He was a handsome man and in great physical shape for his age. At 6'2", he was a foot taller than young Alice. When his final piece of clothing was gone, Harry's heavy blood-gorged cock stood straight out in thick admiration of Alice.
"Why don't you lick off my clothing," the teen said shyly. For the past 30 years, Harry's wife was his only sex partner. That was going to change tonight in the hotel bedroom.
While his friends hooted and hollered encouragement, Harry led Alice over to the master bed. The young nubile lay down and spread her legs, her nipples and cunt still painted with white icing. Harry licked and then suckled upon Alice's two pert tits, and the effect was not lost upon the adorable teenage schoolgirl.
Then Harry began to lap at her coated cunt. The icing was sweet, but the sugar Harry wanted to taste was inside Alice's moist honeycloister. Alice held Harry's head in place while his tongue stroked her innermost private parts. Again and again, his meaty tongue attacked her clitoris, and then he stuck a couple of fingers inside her for good measure.
The underage girl was spiraling towards orgasm when Harry stopped his lapping and told Alice to suck on his cock. The sweet 15-year-old was left unfulfilled and at the brink. She sighed, knowing this still was a job, and giving pleasure was what she was being paid for, not receiving the pleasure.
Harry's cock was an impressive piece of meat. It was a good 7 or 8 inches flaccid and quite thick around. Alice licked the length of it a few times before blowing on the slick head. Needing both hands, she guided the bulbous head into her mouth and began pumping the base of his cock.
Harry was in heaven. His wife hadn't performed oral sex on him in more than 20 years. And the screwing was strictly perfunctory, like a job she had to perform to keep the bills paid and a roof over her head.
Being with young Alice was so completely different. She was a lovely girl, barely 5 feet tall and only 100 pounds. She could easily have been his own daughter's high school or college best friend. Alice had shimmering blonde hair, soft skin, and she smelled and tasted great. Harry was more aroused than he could ever remember.
Meanwhile, Alice had worked up a passion for his cock, even deep-throating his entire 9-inch length and tongue-lapping his sensitive underside glans.
Alice had an itch inside her pussy that only a big penis could solve. She needed to cum, and she became more aggressive in bed with the much older man. Alice slid up his midsection and pointed Harry's cock skyward. "You like this, Harry?" purred a sweet, demure Alice as she rubbed her wet pussy lips over the head of Harry's beet-red helmet.
The older man was licking his lips when Alice sank her small body down onto him. His big dick slipped into her pussy obscenely, slowly stretching her tight cunt lips around the oversized head. Up and down Alice rocked, sliding down inch by inch until her perfect ass came to rest on Harry's giant balls. He was all the way inside her, and he could not believe this tiny girl could take in all his manhood.
Alice rested a minute, completely stuffed with cock. She was hot to trot, and he was horny, and together they were going to rock in bed all night.
Harry cupped his hands over her firm breasts and then drew Alice's gorgeous face to his for a deep, sensuous kiss. This was no longer sex to the couple. This would be sincere, passionate lovemaking.
The two were now screwing like two newlyweds, except Alice had just turned 15 and Harry was 55. The men in the room went silent, admiring the work of art that Alice was to them and the fact their lucky friend Harry was sticking his 9-inch pecker deep within her precious honeycloister.
Alice raised her rump slowly, up and down, to glide her soft pussy over his iron-hard billyclub. She was fully stuffed with cockmeat as she enjoyed the sex as much as Harry. Then Harry had an idea he'd seen in some porno movies. He had Alice swivel around so she sat on Harry's lap facing in the same direction.
This allowed Harry to massage her wonderful breasts from behind and for Alice to more easily control her body movements. The men in the room could now see Harry's enormous club slide in and out of her wet cunt while rubbing up against her clitoris. It was an incredibly obscene sight, but one that every man would have given his weekly paycheck to trade positions with Harry.
Alice turned her head to say something, but Harry just swallowed her mouth and sucked on her tongue. Since she was so tiny, he was able to do it and, at the same time, run his fingers down her curvaceous body until he reached her sweetening damp. There he fingered her clit while trading a deep French kiss with Alice.
This was the little girl's downfall, and she began to moan and really roll her hips over his massive cockhead. Harry was going to cum soon too, and he hoped they would do it together.
Alice began to move her body with abandon as she rocketed towards a major orgasm. Harry was stroking her just right, and his giant cock filled her as she liked it. Alice reached down to fondle his cum-filled balls, and he too began to moan in sheer appreciation.
A few more minutes, and Alice let loose a guttural groan as she spasmed in a whopper of an orgasm. The poor girl was literally seeing stars as her body unleashed fluids from every orifice. Her cunt got even more slick and slippery as it rubbed and grabbed at Harry's sensitive organ until it too jerked deep inside Alice's tight love hole, spewing cum everywhere inside her. A torrent of sperm shot out of his penis and right into her cervix. Harry had never shot so much cum in his life, and it wouldn't stop flowing.
The two kept fucking each other through their mutual orgasms, and all you could hear were the pair moaning in unison and the squishy sound of a 9-inch cock jack-hammering into her tiny, cum-filled orifice. Her hole was overflowed with his gism, and it leaked down into her asshole and covered Harry's balls. The inside of Alice's thighs had a white, frothy jam coating that came from her love fluids and his cum being churned like butter by a 9-inch flesh bat.
When the two finally stopped fucking each other's brains out, their entire bodies were covered in love sweat. Both lovers were gasping for breath from such a superb orgasm.
Some of the men eagerly asked Ron if they could have a turn fucking Alice tonight. He told them not a chance. But for $500 apiece, Alice would give a man a blowjob that they would not soon forget.
That cooled the fervor of some, but three men reached into their wallets and counted out $500 apiece to enjoy the pleasurable mouth of young Alice.
Since this was a suite, there was a separate bedroom that they would use for the oral sex. Alice got out of bed with Harry and went into the bathroom to freshen up. "That was some orgasm," Alice thought as she splashed some cool tap water over her flushed face. Alice toweled herself dry and strode into the other bedroom; there was more work to do.The three men all stripped down and drew cards to see who would go first. Alice eyed their cocks and saw they were all hung like horses. She got a little twitch between her legs, but she understood they were paying strictly for a blowjob.
Uncle Ron had taken their cash and now was up to a cool $3,500 profit for the night.
First up was a black guy named George. Alice asked him what his favorite position was. He said he wanted to sit in a chair and have her kneel before him. In that way, he would always have eye contact with the magnificent blue-eyed blonde.
Alice sighed as she resigned herself to the first of three straight blowjobs, sucking down 8 to 10 inch cocks. She wasted no time swallowing him down right to the base of his organ. George cried out, as it had been so long since a pretty girl, and his first ever white teenager, had done that to him.
Alice was nose-deep in black pubic hair as she expertly deep-throated his Mandingo. The 15-year-old knew that time was of the essence, and her job was to get these men off as quickly as possible, and she was not to allow them to fuck her either.
Every blowjob she had ever given was different, and that was the secret why men absolutely loved her so much. Ron charged a lot of money, but Alice always delivered a man his money's worth.
The little teen lovingly massaged George's balls and the base of his cock while tonguing the length of his schwantz from front to back. For the pièce de résistance, Alice would linger on the man's bulbous head and circle her tongue around the rim and head, and then suckle their glans underneath until they were ready to cry "Uncle!"
George was doing everything he could to keep from cumming quickly. He closed his eyes and tried to think of disgusting things, but when Alice's soft, meaty tongue began to work overtime on his sensitive glans, he was practically finished. He looked down to see the most gorgeous blue eyes, beautiful blonde hair, and an angelic 15-year-old face with his giant dick plumbed right down her throat.
Between the stroking of her delicate fingers and the suckling inside her velvet mouth, big black George was a goner. He could feel his cum boiling over, ready to pour out of a vat. Instinctively, he grabbed the side of the blonde cherub's perfect face and forced his man meat deep down her throat.
This was a part Alice did not like, as she no longer controlled the man, but he was going to cum and do it the way he wanted. Alice puckered up for the ride as she felt George's black meat pumping back and forth down her throat past her tonsils. She was gasping for air until finally the black tube started hosing the back of her throat with semen. The teen literally didn't have to swallow as the big Negro sprayed her throat with hot jism that dripped down into her stomach.
George kept squirting cum until his balls were completely dry. He slumped back into the chair, dislodging his dick from Alice's throat. The poor kid gasped for air and at the same time burped loudly due to ingesting a large amount of pasty white love lava. Both of them laughed out loud over that. George leaned over to kiss Alice and say thank you, and he whispered he would love to see her again sometime. Every man who had ever had sex with Alice had said that, and she considered it a nice compliment.
"You'll have to see my Uncle Ron..."
Young Alice did two more adult men that way, and each was satisfied that they had received a hellacious blowjob from a wonderful concubine.
The party was now over for all the men except for Harry Carson. His son had paid for a one-night stand with Alice, so his father had the rest of the night and into the morning to do whatever he wanted with the young lady.
While Alice had given head to three men in the other bedroom, Harry had time to rest, and he was raring to go.
All the men thanked Ron for providing such a fantastic girl for the party. More than one person asked if she was jailbait, and Ron assured them she was of legal age. Finally, it was just Harry, Ron, and Alice in the bedroom. Ron told Harry to have a good time but be easy on the petite ingénue. Ron kissed Alice good night and said he'd pick her up in the morning.
After Ron left, Harry hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign outside the door and bolted the door shut. He turned off all the lights in the hotel suite except for a night light in the master bedroom. There was a chilled bottle of champagne for the two lovebirds to share, so Harry poured each a flute with a ripe strawberry inside.
"I want this to be a romantic night between the two of us," he told Alice. "But I want to be able to see you while we're making love because I know I'll never have another woman again who is as beautiful as you. If I were 25 and starting my life all over again, I'd surely ask you to spend the rest of your life with me."
With that, Harry touched glasses with Alice and drank down the rich bubbly.
Young Alice did not expect such tender emotional sincerity from a client and had to wipe tears away from her eyes. At the same time, Harry's dick hardened in a way it never had before with any other woman. He was going to love Alice more physically, more completely, and with more passion than he ever had with a girl in his 55 years.
And Alice, in her own special way, was going to love Harry right back to make this for him the most memorable night of his life.
The lovers finished their champagne and set down their empty glasses on the nightstand. The two cuddled and deep-kissed, pressing their naked torsos completely against one another.
Neither had to worry about foreplay to fornicate again. Alice's cunt was sopping wet in anticipation of fucking this incredible man, and Harry was as rock hard as he had ever been in his life, and he couldn't wait to get started.
As the young girl and adult man kissed and stroked each other's body, they wanted to be quick to make love again, but they weren't in any hurry. Trading open-mouth vigorous kisses, they slowly worked themselves around where Alice was in the missionary position with her legs wide spread. She was a willing and now eager love receptacle for this man with a giant-sized steel cock.
Harry was now poised above Alice with an elbow on each side of her head as the two kept swapping saliva. The tip of his cock would graze her pussy lips and then ride up her stomach to her belly button and then back down again. A few more minutes of teasing, and then an anxious Alice reached down with her soft right hand. She grasped the head of his cock and introduced it again to her slim, wet opening and lodged the first couple of inches inside her warmth.
The young but experienced girl slowly raised her butt up and down off the mattress, letting her greased, slick pussy lips surround and massage his bulbous head. A few more minutes of this teasing aroused the two of them to heights never felt before.
"Are you ready?" said Harry. "Yes," breathed a flushed Alice. And then the two rammed their bodies against one another, burying his monster organ completely inside her tight orifice.
Alice proceeded to wrap her arms around his neck to force an open-mouthed kiss. Her slim legs snaked behind Harry's buttocks to lock him in as deeply inside her as humanly possible. Harry slowly ground his flesh weapon in and out, up and down, her pussy molded around his dick in a vise grip. Alice was clutched so taut around Harry's torso that he could only slide a few inches back and forth from her exquisite cunt.
That's good, Harry thought, because it meant they were going to fuck for a long time before he would have to shoot his load again inside of her.
As the lovemaking intensified, they would change positions. Alice liked sitting astride his midsection so she was in control. Harry wanted to fuck the teenager doggy-style so he could grab her hips and crush her back and forth over his enormous schlong.
The bed springs were creaking and groaning from the constant fucking in different positions. Finally, after Alice had cum several times, Harry knew he was ready to explode too. The pair swiveled back into the missionary position so Harry could really bang the shit out of young Alice and blow his wad again deep inside her.
As the precious teen hung on for dear life, Harry forced his hips down into her again and again. The smack of their fleshy hips pounding against each other sounded like they were spanking one another. Harry's hammer kept pounding away at Alice, rubbing her silky folds that in return were milking his cock until it would spew its love juices.
The headboard was thumping the wall, and the bed springs were so noisy they were sure the couple next door would call the front desk to complain. All that mattered now to the two were to get each other's nut off and to make this the most memorable fuck ever.
A few more thrusts, and Alice cried out with an orgasm so glorious it nearly pained her to show her raw emotions like this with any man. Harry felt his spine tingle as he too knew how genuine her orgasm was, and finally, his cock jerked and splashed cum all over her inner walls. Secretly, he wished he shot enough sperm inside her to make her pregnant. And Alice cried out in such nirvana, thinking that if she had ever wanted to make a baby, this time would have been it. Imagine that, a 15-year-old girl having a baby with a 55-year-old man.
The lovers finally exhausted their fucking and had to rest. They fell asleep in each other's arms but only for a short while. Many times during the night and morning, one lover would wake up the other, and they would begin fucking each other like there was no tomorrow.
Alice could not believe her sexual urge was so insatiable with this gentle, loving man she had just met a few hours ago.And Harry could not believe his cock could get hard over and over again and keep shooting huge amounts of sperm inside this sweet, sexy vixen. He wanted to have young Alice whenever he wanted, but he knew after tonight, he most likely would never see her again.
In fact, when Ron came to the hotel the next morning to get Alice, he found her fully dressed, sitting on the couch whimpering. "What happened, did the son of a bitch hurt you?" "No, nothing like that. I just had a bad dream last night."
Alice gazed into the bedroom at Harry, who was still asleep, completely drained from his many pleasurable bouts of lovemaking with Alice. She had sucked him off once and also begged him to shoot his cum right into her love channel. She looked at him one more time before leaving, knowing she would never make love to him, or see him, again. | null | null | Authors/quon_shs/Young Alice part VI by Dick Quon.txt |
89,812 | niteowluk2003 | Raped at home | You enter your darkened home, unaware that someone has gained entry before you. As you take off your coat, you strangely begin to feel randy, but you can't explain why. A sudden urge to go to your bedroom to fuck yourself with your favorite toy comes over you.
Once in the bedroom, you decide on a slow strip, teasing yourself as you go. You slip off your blouse, running your hands over your swelling breasts, your nipples hardening without being directly touched. You reach behind you and unzip the skirt and watch it slide to the floor. Stepping out of it, you spot the dark stain in your lacy panties. You can't remember being this turned on, ever.
With some haste, you release your bra clasp and toss the bra towards the bed, when suddenly you are grabbed from behind. You are forced face down onto the bed. A gruff voice warns you that if you scream or shout, you will be seriously harmed. Then one of your stockings is fastened as a blindfold across your eyes.
Suddenly, you feel cold steel pressing into your flesh at the waistband of your panties, and you feel the right side of your panties go loose. Again, you feel the cold steel as the left side of your panties is cut. The same gruff voice orders you to open your mouth. In panic, you instinctively react, and your mouth is then stuffed full of what feels like a rag. As the flavor of the dampness evades your senses, you realize that it is your panties.
Your nipples are now so hard they ache, and it seems someone has turned on a tap inside your cunt, as your juices run down your leg.
Next, powerful hands force your legs apart, and rough fingers begin teasing your cunt. Soon, three fingers are buried in your soaking cunt. Just then, a tongue traces small circles on your arse, heading closer and closer towards your cunt. The fingers withdraw from your clutching pussy, and the tongue begins flicking your clit. Soon, you are moaning into the panties, begging to be flicked.
The licking stops, and you are turned over. A mouth begins sucking on your hard, erect nipple. The mouth on your left nipple begins gently tugging on the hardened flesh. Suddenly, the teeth sink sharply into your nipple as it is extended a good half inch from your body. Meanwhile, the hand is back stroking your cunt, a hard finger tracing a path from your clit to the edge of your anal ring. Once, twice, three times this is repeated, all the time bringing you unwillingly towards a hard climax.
On the fourth time, the finger flicks your clit, passes over the lips of your cunt, pausing before slipping deep inside your soaking cunt. It is quickly withdrawn and continues towards your anal ring. When it gets there, you expect, like before, for it to begin to return towards your clit, but this time it is roughly forced past the sphincter muscle and deep inside your arse. The sudden shock of your first anal penetration and the speed of it cause you to jerk backwards.
The finger slips out of your arse, the extended nipple pinging away from the clenched teeth holding it. For a split second, the double pain of your arse being penetrated and the searing pain felt in your nipple does strange things to you. It is like a bitter/sweet pain; you feel hurt but excited to the edge of endurance. Just as you come to terms with this, large, rough hands grab your ankles, pull you towards the bottom of the bed before being gripped in one hand and held high.
Wondering what is going to happen next, you try to beg, but all that comes forth is a mumbled gibberish. You try to gather your thoughts, when suddenly the silence is broken by a large WHACK, and a sharp stinging sensation spreads from your arse. WHACK, a second blow falls on your other cheek. The gruff voice laughs and says, "I'll teach you, you bitch. When I am playing, you will stay still, or the worse for you."
Although you still cannot see your intruder, you can feel your eyes watering. You have a quick decision to make: fight and suffer, or unwillingly go along with this man and how to survive. You mumble through your panties, "Do what you want with me, but please don't hurt me." The man realizes that you have made an effort and removes the panties from your mouth. You repeat yourself, "Please, I'll do whatever you want of me, but please don't hurt me." Unseen by you, the man smiles and says, "All right, bitch, but any more resistance and I will really make you suffer."
He asks you where you keep your sex toys. You hesitate, and he slaps your arse harder than before. WHACK, the stinging spreads. It seems that there is a direct link from your arse cheeks to your inner cunt walls, as your passion increases with each slap. You tell him that they are in the bedside cabinet. You blush when you suddenly remember that the butt plug your old flatmate left behind was in there.
He spins you round on the bed without releasing your ankles, and you hear the cabinet door ping open. You hear rustling, and can only imagine that he is inspecting all your sex toys.
The stocking is removed from your eyes, and he points at the collection of gadgets beside you on the bed. Picking up a big black prick, it is then forced into your mouth.
You are forced to suck it or choke. After what seems like an age, your jaw aches, and the prick is slowly withdrawn. Then your legs are pinned wide apart, as the prick enters your cunt. As you are strongly fucked, your tits are bouncing up and down. The voice orders you to suck your own nipple.
As he flicks you with the dildo, a finger is pressed against your anal ring and slowly works its way inside your arse. The stranger laughs as you try to evade the anal entry.
You beg him not to do that. He laughs as he says, "What are you going to do to stop me?" You reply, "I will do whatever you want me to, but not anal, please."
He says to you, "Well, that's rich for a bitch who uses a butt plug up there." You begin to try to explain that the plug was not actually yours. He snaps, "Shut up, bitch." He then removes the dildo and picks up the butt plug. Without ceremony, he plunges it up your cunt. You wince as the thick, bulbous end slams in, forcing its way past your cunt entrance. Soon, your outer lips are pinned back by the large lip on the bottom of the butt plug.
No sooner had you started to get used to the size intrusion in your cunt than he yanks it out and slowly forces the head against your anal ring. He orders you to push down on it or he will spank you so hard that you will not sit for a month. You reluctantly begin to push down while trying to relax your sphincter muscle. You feel a sharp pain, and then you hear a slight plop as the head pushes past your anal muscle. Your bowels feel full and distended; you have an overwhelming desire to go for a shit. The stranger before you laughs.
Just then, you notice for the first time that the man is stark naked, and his large prick is rigid and swaying in front of him. He notices what you are looking at, smiles, and says, "Don't worry, bitch, you will get this soon."
He forces your legs even wider apart as he kneels between them. He then lowers his large, heavy body weight onto you. You feel his cock head nudge the entrance to your cunt, and then he suddenly thrusts forward in a sharp movement. His cock spears your cunt, and you feel the pubic hairs against your cunt lips. He slowly begins thrusting in and out, all the time smiling close to your face. As this is happening, his pace speeds up, and you feel the tell-tale signs of his impending climax. Just before he cums, your own violent orgasm rips through your body.
After he floods your cunt with spunk, he orders you to lick his prick clean and wants you to suck him off again. As the salty-tasting penis enters your mouth, you begin to gag. Then, when he is good and hard again, he makes you go on all fours as he fucks you doggie style. By the time he is ready to cum a second time, you have had three orgasms already and are begging for him to fill you up.
At this point, he withdraws his penis and, in one quick movement, yanks out the butt plug before forcing his prick into your gaping anal cavity. For a further twenty minutes, he mercilessly pounds his prick up your arse.
Just as he begins to cum, he pulls out and shoots all over your arse cheeks. You collapse forward, faint, and twenty minutes later, you open your eyes to find you are alone. Was it a dream? Then you feel the cum stains on your arse cheeks, and you realize it was fact. | null | null | Authors/niteowluk2003/stories/one off tales/Raped at home.txt |
89,967 | Jordan Shelbourne | The Doc and the Doxy, the Horse and the Whore | Yes, it is true that Fran's is closing down and Doc Webster is leaving town, and also that Harry the Horse (the Younger) is getting married. I am privy to much of it, and since you are buying, I will tell you about it. I am responsible, you might say, though it makes me sore to think about.
It so happens that I sometimes hack guys to Fran's when they are flush from the track. And because a guy who is flush from the track is also a heavy tipper, I am sometimes found in Fran's at the same time, enjoying one of the ladies there. I am just in the door from such a trip when Fran asks me to fetch Doc Webster because she is auditioning a new girl. When she says this, she looks me up and down and then she asks me a personal question which I do not want to answer, but that Lucy, one of the girls there, answers for me. "Seven inches," says Lucy while I blush.
"You might be big enough," says Fran and asks me to come back with the Doc. This I figure is my in, because seven inches is not so little and a guy who auditions a doll for Fran does not pay for that doll. This is a treat because Fran charges rent practically for breathing in her parlour.
It is Wednesday, so the Doc is at Dutch Johnny's speakeasy, and I find him in the back, mostly sober, sitting with Harry the Horse (the Younger). Well, right then I know that I am not getting to audition any new girl that night, because Harry the Horse (the Younger) is not called that because he always knows a horse you can bet on. No, Harry the Horse (the Younger) is built like a fire-hose, and I am not playing in that league. In addition, Harry the Horse is not a bad-looking guy, according to the dolls I drive up and down Broadway. What is worse, he is a nice guy.
The Doc is willing to come because him and Fran are friends from way back, and Harry the Horse tags along. I cannot tell him no, because it is not my place and he is a friend of the Doc's.
When I arrive again at Fran's, the parlour is empty except for Fran and a tiny doll who is, I think, the girl who is auditioning. I can hear Harry the Horse (the Younger) stop right behind me, this doll is so nice to look at, and then there is a thump because the Doc is right behind him and does not notice Harry stop. Both Harry and I look at the tiny doll and then again because she is worth it.
Even though she is dressed like a schoolteacher, she is a doll such as I would like to look at for a long time. She has all the usual equipment, but it is put together very well. But she is blushing, which I have never seen in a doll at Fran's. I look around the parlour for a turnip-cart, for it is sure that that is what she has just fallen off.
She is not big up top, but it is hard to tell in her teacher-clothes. What I want to see is what she is sitting on, for I am a bottom-man. Harry, though, obviously prefers the other half, and he is taking a good look, which makes her blush, which I am astonished to see makes him blush.
I do not know if his blush makes her blush more because the Doc makes an impatient sound and pushes past Harry and me. Though he looks at the tiny doll (the Doc is not dead, after all), he goes up to Fran and kisses her hand.
Fran is very pleased by this and calls him by his first name, which I do not know until that moment. "Hello, Clarence. I'm glad you could come."
I look at Harry because I do not figure the Doc for a Clarence, but he is still looking at the tiny doll.
Fran explains that the doll, whose name is Elizabeth, is auditioning. Fran needs specialists, and the doll says she can handle all men, especially the large ones. By large, I do not mean fat, and I do not mean the kind who bump their heads on lintels.
I myself do not believe this. I think that the doll, Elizabeth, needs dough, and this need has brought her to Fran's. I do not voice these thoughts because my rent for breathing in Fran's parlour is already pretty high, and I want to help before I leave. Helping is all I can afford.
Well, Fran tells Elizabeth and Harry the Horse (the Younger) to go to a particular room, and then she leads the Doc and me to another particular room which is very small. In fact, it is a broom closet-sized room with two chairs. Doc and Fran take the chairs, and I stand real quiet-like against the door.
Fran shushes us, and I see there is a window in one wall. With the light out here and on in there, I figure we can see them, but they cannot see us. | null | null | Authors/graveyard/jordan6.txt |
89,990 | Jordan Shelbourne | The Doc and the Doxy, the Horse and the Whore | Yes, it is true that Fran's is closing down and Doc Webster is leaving town, and also that Harry the Horse (the Younger) is getting married. I am privy to much of it, and since you are buying, I will tell you about it. I am responsible, you might say, though it makes me sore to think about.
It so happens that I sometimes drive guys to Fran's when they are flush from the track. And because a guy who is flush from the track is also a heavy tipper, I am sometimes found in Fran's at the same time, enjoying one of the ladies there. I am just in the door from such a trip when Fran asks me to fetch Doc Webster because she is auditioning a new girl. When she says this, she looks me up and down and then she asks me a personal question which I do not want to answer, but that Lucy, one of the girls there, answers for me. "Seven inches," says Lucy while I blush.
"You might be big enough," says Fran and asks me to come back with the Doc. This I figure is my in, because seven inches is not so little and a guy who auditions a doll for Fran does not pay for that doll. This is a treat because Fran charges rent practically for breathing in her parlor.
It is Wednesday, so the Doc is at Dutch Johnny's speakeasy, and I find him in the back, mostly sober, sitting with Harry the Horse (the Younger). Well, right then I know that I am not getting to audition any new girl that night, because Harry the Horse (the Younger) is not called that because he always knows a horse you can bet on. No, Harry the Horse (the Younger) is built like a fire-hose, and I am not playing in that league. In addition, Harry the Horse is not a bad-looking guy, according to the dolls I drive up and down Broadway. What is worse, he is a nice guy.
The Doc is willing to come because he and Fran are friends from way back, and Harry the Horse tags along. I cannot tell him no, because it is not my place and he is a friend of the Doc's.
When I arrive again at Fran's, the parlor is empty except for Fran and a tiny doll who is, I think, the girl who is auditioning. I can hear Harry the Horse (the Younger) stop right behind me, as this doll is so nice to look at, and then there is a thump because the Doc is right behind him and does not notice Harry stop. Both Harry and I look at the tiny doll and then again because she is worth it.
Even though she is dressed like a schoolteacher, she is a doll such as I would like to look at for a long time. She has all the usual equipment, but it is put together very well. But she is blushing, which I have never seen in a doll at Fran's. I look around the parlor for a turnip-cart, for it is sure that that is what she has just fallen off.
She is not big up top, but it is hard to tell in her teacher-clothes. What I want to see is what she is sitting on, for I am a bottom-man. Harry, though, obviously prefers the other half, and he is taking a good look, which makes her blush, which I am astonished to see makes him blush.
I do not know if his blush makes her blush more, because the Doc makes an impatient sound and pushes past Harry and me. Though he looks at the tiny doll (the Doc is not dead, after all), he goes up to Fran and kisses her hand.
Fran is very pleased by this and calls him by his first name, which I do not know until that moment. "Hello, Clarence. I'm glad you could come."
I look at Harry because I do not figure the Doc for a Clarence, but he is still looking at the tiny doll.
Fran explains that the doll, whose name is Elizabeth, is auditioning. Fran needs specialists, and the doll says she can handle all men, especially the large ones. By large, I do not mean fat, and I do not mean the kind who bump their heads on lintels.
I myself do not believe this. I think that the doll, Elizabeth, needs dough, and this need has brought her to Fran's. I do not voice these thoughts because my rent for breathing in Fran's parlor is already pretty high, and I want to help before I leave. Helping is all I can afford.
Well, Fran tells Elizabeth and Harry the Horse (the Younger) to go to a particular room, and then she leads the Doc and me to another particular room which is very small. In fact, it is a broom closet-sized room with two chairs. Doc and Fran take the chairs, and I stand real quiet-like against the door.
Fran shushes us, and I see there is a window in one wall. With the light out here and on in there, I figure we can see them, but they cannot see us. | null | null | Authors/graveyard/www/jordan6.txt |
90,154 | Zachyboy | The Mighty Water Dolphins | You're the swim coach for a team of 10, 11, and 12-year-old boys. You call yourselves "The Mighty Water Dolphins," a funny name one of the boys made up. In the regional league you compete in, however, you're just known as "Team B."
"B" for "boys," you think appreciatively as you look at a team photograph; all 14 boys on your team lined up during a fun afternoon at a nearby neighborhood outdoor pool. Usually you practice in the gym at the school, but this wasn't a practice. This was just an afternoon of fun with the boys.
Alone that night, you sip a tall glass of vodka with one hand, slowly stroke your lubed cock in the other hand, and masturbate as you stare at your computer screen, enjoying the beautiful faces, skinny-bare chests, and speedo-tight bodies of your team. There's so much you already know about them. And so much you don't.
Here's the team roster, as you leisurely nurse your drink, look at the photo of all 14 of them, and slowly stroke your leaking cock.
# # # # # # # # # #
Back row, left to right:
Boy Number 1 – Andrew F.
What he's wearing in the picture – Tight black gym shorts with a blue stripe on the side. He likes to swim in them when he's off-league. They nestle his little cock just right.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – Spongebob Square Pants yellow and red boys cotton briefs.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – 5, and heavenly-sweet. Almost like macadamia nuts, only sweeter.
What you do know about Andrew – He doesn't like soda. He doesn't like lemonade. He doesn't like anything sweet. Whenever you take the boys out for pizza or burgers, all he'll drink is milk. Does a body good, I guess. And there's something just a little bit sexy about looking at that creamy white milk mustache on his hairless upper lip anytime he chugs down his favorite beverage. It makes you want to paint his lips with a little creamy man milk of your own.
What you don't know about Andrew – He's already had a threesome. He fucked Alex while Brandon was fucking him. They did it doggie-style, lined up like a train, and Andrew liked it, fucking a boy and getting fucked at the same time, especially by Brandon, who is huge. He felt safe and loved and protected with Brandon's arms around him. Which, of course, just make him want to do it even harder to Alex. It was weird, but great.
The other boys on the team he likes to mess around with – Alex G., boy #6 (his favorite boy) and Brandon P., boy #2 (only once).
What they do with each other – Brandon was only involved with them once. Usually it's just Andrew and Alex. They usually do stuff up in Andrew's bedroom after school, on days they don't have swim team. Usually they lock the door, and Andrew sits on his bed and takes off his pants, and Alex comes over and kneels between his knees and gives him the most beautiful, long, luxurious blowjob one boy has ever given another boy in the history of the world. He cups his balls, goes way down deep on his shaft, and brings it right to the back of his throat. Sometimes Andrew stops and does him in the butt, but most days he just lets Alex suck him until he gets his tingles. Alex is so, so good at sucking him. Just amazing.
Is he a top or a bottom? – Andrew's a top.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Masturbated while smelling them. Taken pictures of him in the shower when he wasn't looking. Zoomed in on his ass. You even have one of his hole, blurry, when he bent over. It's not a great picture, but you've masturbated to it many times anyway.
What you'd like to do with him – Fill his hole for real. Shoot your cream around it. Push it in with the tip of your cock. You'd like to do it to him from behind. Standing up. Arms around his chest. Kissing his neck and listening to him moan while you slowly slide your dick in and out of him.
A memorable quote from Andrew, overheard in the locker room – "Who's got change for a five? Brandon's gonna pole dance for us. I need some ones to shove down his g-string."
# # # # # # # # # #
Boy Number 2 – Brandon P.
What he's wearing in the picture – Knee-length black and blue swim trunks. You hate those big things, but Brandon's so big, he sometimes gets embarrassed showing the outline of his big boy cock in a speedo, so recreationally, you understand he likes to wear something more modest. It's tough for a kid to be that big downstairs in a group of regular boys.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – Jockey Boys blue plaid boxers.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – 8. Strong. Like the puff of air that comes out of a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips when you first open up the bag. Strong, but not unpleasant. Just unexpected.
What you do know about Brandon – His dick is about the size of a small horse, not to point out the obvious. Brandon is a chunky kid, and built a little bit bigger than the rest of the boys. He's not even a very strong swimmer, but he has a heart of gold and the other boys like him. He's helpful, friendly and hung like a teenage pony, with a big fat cock that's destined for your throat someday. You've already tasted a few of the boys and wouldn't mind lining up the rest, but Brandon, just out of the sheer size you've seen in the shower, is the one who stirs the most curiosity in your pants. For some activities, bigger IS better, and little chub-dick really gets you going some days. You sort of give an involuntary gulp and a little shiver every time you see that big-boy horse-cock naked.
What you don't know about Brandon – He loves Harry Potter. I mean, he unnaturally loves Harry Potter. Especially the first movie. He masturbates at night thinking of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. He wants to fuck Harry on his bed at Hogwarts. He's just so pretty and little. And he can do magic. When he fucks other boys, he closes his eyes and pretends they're Harry Potter.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with – Joey D., boy #12.
What they do with each other – Joey doesn't look like Harry Potter, but Brandon likes to fuck him anyway. They had to go really slow the first time because Brandon's so big, but after a few times, Joey got used to it. Joey sits on top of him and slowly slides down. They do it in Joey's basement, in the laundry room with the door locked. They almost got caught once. His mom was knocking on the door saying "what's going on in there," right when Brandon was shooting cum up Joey's ass. They started cracking up. "Nothing, Mom," Joey laughed. And seriously, he was still sitting on Brandon's dick when he said it. The finished up quick, speed-dressed, and walked out flushed. "Just goofing off," Joey shrugged. His mom smelled ass and sex in the air and didn't believe him for a minute. She didn't say anything though. What was she going to say? And the look of that big boy Brandon. If Brandon was having sex with her son, she sure hoped Brandon was the bottom.
Is he a top or a bottom? – Sorry, Mom. Brandon's definitely a top.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Masturbated while smelling them. Propositioned him once, half-heartedly in the parking lot. "If you ever need private lessons, I'm always here for you." He looked at you, puzzled, not sure what you were offering. "Um, okay. Thanks." But he never took you up on it. You just don't look like Harry Potter.
What you'd like to do with him – Everything. Big chubby boys are bigger and better in all the right places. More to suck on. More cushion when you slide into them. Very comfortable. When you were a kid, you had a lot of sex with a neighbor boy who was just about the same size as Brandon. His ass always felt great around your dick. Brandon would be a sweet, repeat performance of that long-gone, happy memory.
A memorable quote from Brandon, overheard in the locker room – "All right, ladies! Which one of you fuckers wants to suck this big cock-monster?" (Secretly in the background, you raise your hand).
# # # # # # # # # #
Boy Number 3 – Christopher K.
What he's wearing in the picture – Grey and black knee-length swim trunks.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – Nickelodeon Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles boys briefs.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – 7. Very sweet smell. Like sweet and sour sauce on the Chinese buffet.
What you do know about Christopher – He sings like a choir boy. He sings like an angel. He's a cute, chubby-cheeked little blondie, and somehow that adds to his aura of innocence. Once when all the other boys had already left, you could hear him from your office in the locker room. He was singing "Morning Has Broken," and his sweet treble voice echoed off the empty locker room walls with a sound so pure it make your heart ache. It made you physically yearn for him and want to wrap him in your arms.
What you don't know about Christopher – He likes poop. He likes to finger his own cum into his asshole. He doesn't make much and it's kind of thin and clear and watery, but he likes to finger it into his asshole anyway. He likes to sniff his own dirty undies and he likes to sniff his own stink finger. He tries to get other boys to smell it too.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with – Anthony Z.Boy #7
What they do with each other – Surprisingly, they have not had anal sex yet. They don't think they're ready, and they're worried it might hurt. However, they still do a lot of stuff up in Christopher's room after school. They also have a lot of sleepovers. They sleep in the same bed, and make out, and rub each other's penises, and Christopher likes to finger Anthony's anus. Anthony's almost to the point where he wants to try something bigger in there, but not quite yet.
Is he a top or a bottom? – When they finally have sex, which will be soon, Christopher will be the top. Anthony will like it so much that Christopher won't even have to reciprocate.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Masturbated while smelling them. Listened to him sing and yearned for some special far-off place in your childhood that was gone forever.
What you'd like to do with him – Just have him sit quietly in your living room some day and sing to you, dressed in a white robe, like a choir boy. It's not even sexual when you fantasize about Christopher. You just want to hear him sing. Okay, if he wants to perform oral sex on you when he's done singing, that would be fine. But really, the song would be enough.
A memorable quote from Christopher, overheard in the locker room – "Hey, Benny. Smell my finger. Does this smell like popcorn to you?"
Boy Number 4 – Jonathan S.
What he's wearing in the picture – Dark blue swim trunks. Not too short, not too long.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – Calvin Klein red boy's boxer briefs.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – 6. Very earthy, musky smell. Like clay. Like moss. Very interesting smell. Not fecal-smelling at all.
What you do know about Jonathan – He's reading "Runaway Ralph" right now, the Beverly Cleary book. You saw it in his backpack. "Good story," you said to him. "I read it when I was a kid." He looked shocked. "They had this book when YOU were a kid?" he asked incredulously. You must seem ancient to him. The ancient 40-year-old swim coach who'd like to slip his elderly crotch rocket up Jonathan's little literary-loving bottom.
What you don't know about Jonathan – Last year, his fourth-grade teacher sexually abused him after school in the gym. That teacher is also his soccer coach. He was helping him put the balls and equipment away after all the other kids went home, and before they left the equipment room, his coach shut the door, performed oral sex on him, digitally penetrated him, and then had sexual intercourse with him. Jonathan liked it. It hurt a little at first, but his coach went really slow, and after he got used to it, he really, really liked it.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with – Christian R., boy #13.
What they do with each other – Nothing yet, and it's driving Jonathan crazy! Christian is so cute, and Jonathan has seen his little uncircumcised penis in the shower, and he loves it, and he wants it in his anus, but Christian is too scared of him to do anything. Once when they were alone together getting dressed, Jonathan leaned into Christian's ear and said, "I really like you. Can you come over to my house for a sleepover some time?" And Christian just blushed and said, "Maybe. I can ask my mom." But so far, he hasn't asked! And it's driving Jonathan crazy. When Jonathan masturbates at night, he fingers his own anus, EVERY night, pretending it's Christian's penis.
Is he a top or a bottom? – Jonathan's a bottom. Or he would be, if he could ever get Christian to cooperate!
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Masturbated while smelling them. You've rubbed his shoulders in your office. Massaged his legs when he said he was sore. Took the opportunity to lean in close and smell his anus.
What you'd like to do with him – The smell of Jonathan's anus is so perfect, so sweet, so copper-earthy perfect, you just want to get him down on all fours, spread his buttocks and bury your face inside him. If there was one kid on the team you wanted to perform oral-anal stimulation on based on what his undies smell like, Jonathan is your preferred flavor. He reminds you of childhood and a friend you knew. They smell exactly the same. It's a smell you've never forgotten. He has perfect little nipples and perfect little ribs too. He's so sweet and tan. You want to lick him all over.
A memorable quote from Jonathan, overheard in the locker room – "I don't see what the big deal about girls is. They're just walking breasts with bad attitudes if you ask me."
Boy Number 5 – Billy R.
What he's wearing in the picture – Dark blue knee-length trunks with a red waistband.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – Spider-Man boys cotton briefs.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – 6. Not even a very strong smell, but you have to give him extra points for skid marks. Goodness, Billy. Learn to wipe a little better. Or not, on second thought.
What you do know about Billy - He has a long, slender, beautiful penis. A little bit longer than all the rest of the boys. It's easily as long as Brandon's, although to be fair, Brandon's is huge and thick as a cork. Still, Billy has a long, skinny one. You often compare the size, shape and length of the boys in the shower, and you're always surprised when your eyes linger on Billy. He's just a skinny, ribby little thing, but he has a good length of penis for a boy so frail-looking and you wonder if he's ever used it yet.
What you don't know about Billy – He sexually abuses his little sister Emmy. He plays "Doctor" with her and examines her vagina and her anus with a plastic thermometer from her Playskool medical kit. He plays "Doctor" with Eric and Erin, the two little neighborhood twins, too. He gives them anal examinations and smells his finger.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with – Sammy H., boy #11
What they do with each other – It's really weird. Billy is sort of sexually aggressive with his own sister and with the neighbor kids, but when Sammy comes over, he totally submits to whatever Sammy wants to do, and of course, it didn't take too many playdates before Sammy had him face-down on his Spider-Man sheets, having sexual intercourse with him. Sammy ejaculates a lot for a child. Billy is fascinated watching it come out of his anus in the toilet later in the night after Sammy goes home. Sammy usually has sexual intercourse with him at least three times when he comes over. He really, really likes to have sex with him a lot. Billy feels sore when he leaves, but good. He masturbates a lot thinking of Sammy, but he doesn't have wet orgasms yet.
Is he a top or a bottom? – Billy's a bottom for Sammy, a top for any other child.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Masturbated while smelling them. Masturbated thinking of his navel of all crazy things. Billy's got a navel that just looks like heaven on a plate. Goodness, it's pretty. And of course, you've admired his long, skinny penis in the shower. You've taken many photographs of it. You've masturbated to it many times.
What you'd like to do with him – You'd like to feel that long, slender penis in the back of your throat. You wonder if you can ejaculate. You think he probably can and you bet it tastes honey-sweet. Sometimes you masturbate sucking on your own, long index finger, pretending it's Billy's long, skinny boyhood.
A memorable quote from Billy, overheard in the locker room – "Fuck you. Which one of you guys stole my underwear again? They're always fucking missing when I come here." (Oops. They're still in your drawer).
Boy Number 6 – Alex G.
What he's wearing in the picture – Multi-colored yellow, red and light blue knee-length trunks with race cars on them.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – None. Alex doesn't usually wear underwear. When he's forced to, he wears a pair he takes from his big brother's drawer, Hanes white briefs, two sizes too big and his little scrotum hangs down through the loose crotch hole.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – Well, again, no underwear. But his anal area level is about a 6 before he hits the pool. You've smelled it in the crack of his shorts after he changes into his suit. Pretty standard boy smell. Rich and sweet.
What you do know about Alex – He's short. One of the shorter boys. He's from North London originally, speaks with the cutest little accent, and he gives nearly-spectacular oral sex. You're not sure what he'd do with a real penis in his mouth, but you've seen him go down on a popsicle, and it's so fucking erotic, there ought to be a law against it. You pass around popsicles after practice fairly regularly, because frankly, who doesn't like to watch a boy go down on a fake penis-on-a-stick? And all the boys do it in a sexual manner. Some even crudely, on purpose, knowing what it looks like. But when Alex does it, quietly, alone on a bench in the corner, after saying "thank you, coach" in that pretty little English accent of his, you want to roll a video clip and sell it on the internet. You can tell this child is destined for fellatio greatness. Lots of boys will act stupid and pretend they're giving a popsicle a blowjob. This child makes sweet oral love to one. He doesn't even seem to realize he's doing it, or increasing the size of the penises of half the kids on the swim team every time he eats one. He seems completely oblivious to the heart-pounding eroticism of his own talent.
What you don't know about Alex – He once stuck a penny up his anus. Then a nickel. Then a quarter. Then a bunch of marbles. He defecates them out later. At any given time, he usually has two marbles up his anus.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with – Andrew F., boy #1.
What they do with each other – Alex performs oral sex on Andrew in their room after school. He likes giving oral sex and he's good at it. When he lived in North Finchley, in the northern part of London, he used to perform oral sex on the boys in his school all the time. He even performed oral sex on a stranger-boy in the subway station once.He wishes Andrew would suck him back more, or he wishes they'd 69, but Andrew really just likes to fuck him and get blown. Once they did it with Brandon, who was huge. Alex secretly wants to suck off Brandon, but he doesn't want to hurt Andrew's feelings, so he hasn't yet.
Is he a top or a bottom? – Alex is a bottom.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed the inside of his shorts. Jacked off smelling them. Sort of fingered his crack a little while you were holding him up in the pool, helping him with his back float. You didn't think he noticed you fingered him twice, but he did. He noticed it right away.
What you'd like to do with him – You'd like to put your finger all the way inside him some day. The fact that he doesn't wear underwear really arouses you. You think it might make his ass extra raw and exciting, and you're probably right.
A memorable quote from Alex, overheard in the locker room – "What is that smell? Christian, is that you? Good God, man, that's wicked."
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Boy Number 7 – Anthony Z.
What he's wearing in the picture – Light blue knee-length trunks.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – Hanes red and blue plaid cotton-weave boys boxers.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – 5. Perfect middle-of-the-road boy smell. Nothing showy, nothing overstated. Like a good Napa Valley wine. You wouldn't fill the cellar with it, but for the occasional taste, a sufficient bouquet.
What you do know about Anthony – He's a little pudgy. Not fat, just a cute little tummy bump on him. He can burp half the alphabet before he runs out of air. ABCDEFG, HIJK, LMNOP, all in one resounding belch. He also likes to play "pull my finger" with the other boys and lets out some ripping good farts. This kid's in love with his own bodily noises and takes them to a new art form.
What you don't know about Anthony – He was breast fed until he was 4 years old. He still really wants to suck his mother's tits. He smells his mother's panties all the time and jacks off. He wants to fuck his mother and suck her tits. He sucks on her panties, too.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with – Christopher K., boy #3.
What they do with each other – Christopher is kind of pressuring Anthony to have butt sex with him, and he's not really sure if he's ready. I mean, he likes it when Christopher sticks his finger up his butt, but a finger's a lot skinnier than a dick. You have to really like a guy to let him put his dick in your ass. But in the meantime, it sure feels good to suck and kiss and finger. Anthony likes to suck on Christopher's nipples. He moans and feels like a little boy when he does it. He pretends he's still sucking on his mommy, and his cock gets really, really hard.
Is he a top or a bottom? – When they finally do it (soon) Anthony will be the bottom. When Christopher is doing it to him, Anthony will imagine his own ass is his mother's pussy, and that's what she'll feel like inside when Anthony fucks her. It'll feel good and full like that. He'll cum, thinking what his mother will feel like when he fucks her.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Jacked off smelling them. You caught him looking at some porn on his iPad once. Women with big tits. "Do you like titties, Anthony?" you asked him quietly, coming up from behind him, surprising him. He jumped and quickly turned off his screen. "Yeah, I guess," he blushed. Anthony's gonna be a tit man someday. You just have that feeling.
What you'd like to do with him – You're so used to hearing Anthony burp and seeing his mouth wide open, you sort of want to put your dick in there. The next time he opens up to belch the ABC's, you sort of want to tell him, "Hey, Anthony. Put a cork in it," and then give him the big one you keep in your pants. But you have an idea Anthony's not really interested in guys. He's got an eye on the ladies with boobs.
A memorable quote from Anthony, overheard in the locker room – "There's never any tits in this locker room. Can't we get a girl on this team so we can see some tits? Jesus, it's like a desert in here."
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Boy Number 8 – David C.
What he's wearing in the picture – Light blue knee-length trunks.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – Handcraft DC Comics superheroes briefs. Today, he's wearing the ones with the big "S" for Superman logo. There's a big "S" over his ass and a littler "S" over his dickie.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – A super 8. Rich, musky and sour. With a definite pissy smell in the crotch. Very strong.
What you do know about David – He has a boner ALL the time. In your head, you almost think of him as "Boner Boy." No kidding, his dick is just always hard. In his shorts, in his underwear, in his speedo, at practice, at meets. He's just always got a boner. Parents have even commented on it. You're almost thinking you need to find him alternate, less revealing swimwear, but fuck, why would you want to do that. It's a great boner.
What you don't know about David – He regularly has Skype sex with a man. The man lives in Australia and David likes his voice. He jacks off for the man and shows him his butthole and sticks his fingers in it for him. The man shows him his big cock and cums on camera. David can't wait to be able to cum that much.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with – Nathan S., boy #9
What they do with each other – They suck each other a little, but David's kind of weirded-out sucking Nathan, because he's never sucked a kid with a foreskin before. It's still kind of new to him. And when they do it, David's on top, because he's never had a foreskin in his butt, either. He'll get there. But right now he's still considering it. The guy in Australia he Skypes with has a big foreskin, but his pulls all the way back and there's a regular dick inside. Nathan's is still kind of closed up, like a hoodie.
Is he a top or a bottom? – David's a top.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Jacked off smelling them. Let him ride on your shoulders once in the parking lot. He was still tiny enough to pick up. He had his speedo on when he rode on you, and fuck yes, you could feel his little hard dickie bump on the back of your neck. Excruciating bliss, seeing it, feeling it, knowing it exists almost ALL the time. Man, he should see a doctor about that thing! It's not normal! Beautiful, just not normal!
What you'd like to do with him – Just jack off and cum on that boner of his. It's just always, always hard. You see the outline of it constantly. You see it naked in the shower. Now you just want to lay him down, straddle his legs and while he watches you, slowly jack off and shoot your load all over the shaft of his boycock. Maybe kiss him a little after you do. He has a sweet smile. He's a good boy.
A memorable quote from David, overheard in the locker room – "Some guy on the internet showed me his dick once, but I hung up on him right away." (He's lying. He did not. He jacks off online with the guy at least twice a week. When he knows it's time for their call, he can't think of anything else. He actually paces in his room, waiting for the Skype ring tone).
# # # # # # # # # #
Boy Number 9 – Nathan S.
What he's wearing in the picture – Light blue Speedo. Way, way too small. God bless him, that speedo is too small. Please, Nathan, don't ever stop wearing it.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – Fruit of the Loom boys white cotton briefs. Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – 4. Very light actually. You wish they were a little stronger, because the scent really is nice. Just faint.
What you do know about Nathan – He's uncut. Most of the boys on your swim team are circumcised. Nathan is one of only two who still have their foreskin. His is not quite retracted yet. You've seen it many times, standing by the urinal, pissing next to him. He checks your dick out when you piss together. You make sure you casually take a half-step back so he can see it. He casually takes a half-step back too, allowing you to see his. You never make eye contact, but it's an unspoken rule between you two. You're allowed to watch each other piss. In clear detail.
What you don't know about Nathan – He lets his dog Sasha lick his asshole. This year, he got fucked by his cousin Bryan who is 16. They were wrestling and Bryan had him pinned down. They both had boners. Bryan took his out and Nathan sucked it. They Bryan got some Vaseline out of the bathroom and came back and fucked him. It didn't even hurt. He liked it a lot. When he came home, Bryan's cum was still dripping out of his ass and Sasha licked it up while Nathan jacked off, thinking of Byran.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with – David C., boy #8
What they do with each other – Fuck. David likes to do it to him, and Nathan likes to take it. He wishes David had a bigger cock though. Secretly he wishes two or three older boys would do it to him at the same time. Pin him down and take turns doing it to him. When David does it to him, he likes it when he lifts his arms up over his shoulders and David pins him down. He likes to be held down when he gets fucked. He just wishes it was from more than one boy. And bigger boys.
Is he a top or a bottom? – Nathan's a bottom.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Jacked off smelling them. Nathan actually came on to you one day after swim class. Pretty intently, pretty aggressively. "Hey, coach, did you ever do it to a boy?" he asked. You were caught off guard. Didn't know how to respond. "Not sure how to answer that," you said honestly. "Okay," he shrugged. "Just wondering." And the moment was lost.
What you'd like to do with him – Get to know him a whole lot better, if only you could find some privacy.Maybe you'll have to invite him over to your house some Saturday afternoon. Maybe see if he'll help you mow the lawn. And see where it leads. You never had a boy with an uncut cock before and you're hungry to try one. Plus, you get a definite man-curious vibe from Nathan, like he's been with a guy before. There's something "knowing" about him. He also has the nicest, puffiest, fullest-looking nipples on the team. Not big, just puffy and full. Suckable, soft nipples. You want them in your mouth while your finger searches for his little rosebud.
A memorable quote from Nathan, overheard in the locker room: "Shit, you should see my cousin Bryan's muscles. He's 16 and those things are huge. Seriously, guys. Huge."
Front row, left to right:
Boy Number 10 – Ryan V.
What he's wearing in the picture: His dark blue team speedo. Nice little package, clearly outlined.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room: Boys Hanes cotton briefs featuring the Marvel Avengers. Today he's wearing a repeated pattern of Iron Man and Captain America.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale: 7. Now here's a kid who's got some character to his undies. You can tell he gets a finger up in there for a good scratch every now and then. You can see and smell the evidence. And you fully approve.
What you do know about Ryan: He can shoot a hell of a free throw. Sometimes before the other boys show up for practice, he'll come early, basketball tucked under his arms, and shoot free throws in the gym before he changes to swim. You like it when he does, because he gets extra sweaty, and his undies are extra-fun to sniff when he changes into his suit and the boys jump in for warm-ups. Sometimes you stand in the corner of the gym and watch him shoot free throws. He'll hit 5, 6, sometimes 7 in a row. He's got great concentration. And a pretty, sweaty ass when it sticks in the crack of his shorts on the court. You'd be more impressed with his basketball skills if you weren't so busy checking out his sticky crack and his sweaty little globes.
What you (sort-of) don't know about Ryan: His uncle stands over his bed almost every night, half drunk on rum and cokes and jacks off on his face. Ryan has just recently started to open up his mouth and let his uncle shoot in him. They call it "giving him a drink," and he loves it. He gets tingly in his dickie when he hears his uncle's footsteps coming up the stairs at night.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with: Benny J., boy #14.
What they do with each other: They tell each other what they're doing with the men who are loving them right now. With Ryan, it's his uncle. With Benny it's his dad. They're both really sexually-active with their grown-ups right now. So when they get together, sometimes they role play. Sometimes they act out what their dad or their uncle did to them the night before.
Is he a top or a bottom?: Ryan's a top for Benny, but he sure won't be one for his uncle in a couple of weeks.
What you've done with him personally: Sniffed his underwear. Jacked off smelling them. Almost got Ryan to give you a blowjob, but someone walked in at the last moment. You were talking about oral sex with him, because you overheard him talking about his uncle to Benny one day. You brought up blowjobs in general and he was clearly getting aroused. He said, "I can do that to you if you want sometime, coach." And if you'd only had the place to yourselves! But it didn't work out. You're definitely looking for your next opportunity. Ryan seems eager.
What you'd like to do with him: See those pretty lips of his wrapped around your cock. Feed him a load. Or two. Or three. Or however many he wants. Ryan has perfect, smooth legs. Not a hair in sight. You'd love to feel them wrapped around your neck as you lift them up on your way to the treasures between them. You know his uncle is already getting some of that. Man, how do you get on that waiting list?
A memorable quote from Ryan, overheard in the locker room, to Benny: "My uncle keeps wanting to give me more drinks of his sperm. Ever since that night you stayed over, he wants me to drink it every night. I think he wants my butt, too." (And God, so do you).
Boy Number 11 – Sammy H.
What he's wearing in the picture: Black team knee-lengths with red side stripes. Our bleacher gear for when we're not in-pool.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room: Very tiny blue and white bikini briefs.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale: 1. Sparkly clean and non-existent aroma. You sanitary germ-free guys would love this kid. You wouldn't be able to smell him if he tripped on a rock naked and landed on your nose.
What you do know about Sammy: He cries sometimes when he talks to his mom on the phone and you're not quite sure what that's about. But twice he's asked to borrow your iPhone, and gone off into a corner to call his mom. And both times when he came back, he was crying. You asked him if he was okay, but he didn't want to talk about it. Two minutes later, he's fine and laughing and playing with the other boys. You hope everything's okay at home. He has a surprisingly good-sized dickie. Not as big as Brandon and Billy, but very respectable for a kid. He could hold his own in a three-way with those two. Or you could hold it for him, you think, licking your lips.
What you don't know about Sammy: He likes his little brother Jason to stick his thumb up his ass. He likes to piss on Jason in the bathtub and likes Jason to piss on him. They think it's hilarious. He tried to drink some of Jason's piss once, but he didn't like it. He thought it was gross, so he spit it out. Jason likes his little dickie sucked, so Sammy sucks it for him. When Jason's older, he's going to fuck him, but he's still too little now.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with: Billy R., boy #5.
What they do with each other: Sammy and Billy have been messing around after school for a long time now and Sammy really likes it. The only problem is, whenever Sammy's fucking Billy, he's pretending he's fucking his own little brother Jason instead. He gets so hot pretending it's Jason, sometimes he fucks Billy three times in a row. Or he'll fuck him twice, then they'll go get a snack, and he'll come back and fuck him again. Billy's a good friend, but he's really just a substitute for Jason. He also sort of wants to play pee games with Billy, but he doesn't know how to ask. He doesn't want Billy to think he's weird.
Is he a top or a bottom?: Sammy's a top. For Billy now. For his brother Jason very soon.
What you've done with him personally: Sniffed his underwear. Jacked off smelling them. Hardly any scent at all. Just fabric softener. Maybe some baby powder. He must put baby powder on, so his balls don't sweat. Maybe because you've seen him crying, he seems so innocent and sweet to you. You kind of stay away from him, not wanting to hurt him. Sammy's just pretty. You just want to hold his face in your hands and softly kiss his pretty forehead.
What you'd like to do with him: Put your nose in his crotch and smell his sweet little baby powder balls up close. Lick his little sweet spot, between his balls and his ass. Cuddle and hold him. Kiss his sad tears away, wherever they're coming from.
A memorable quote from Sammy, overheard in the locker room: "You should see my brother Jason's cock. It's a pretty good one for a little kid."
Boy Number 12 – Joey D.
What he's wearing in the picture: Same black team knee-lengths with red side stripes like Sammy above. We normally just sit in the bleachers in these, but when we hang out socially, a lot of times the boys will swim in them too.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room: Tommy Hilfiger red, white and blue color blocks boxer briefs.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale: 7, with a very sweaty, cinnamon smell. You don't know what that smell is. Pheromones? Actual spices he rubs on himself? Joey has kind of sweaty balls. His undies are always damp, but they always smell so good...an insanely-arousing mixture of boy ass and cinnamon.
What you do know about Joey: He always smells like cinnamon, or nutmeg, or pumpkin pie...at least until he jumps in the pool, and then all the boys just smell like chlorine. But before he dips in, he shows up for practice smelling like cloves or potpourri, or something you can't quite put your finger on. You've even made excuses to lean into him to smell him more deeply. "Sorry, is that a cut on your neck? Let me look." Just to have a fake excuse to lean in and smell his sexy, intriguing cinnamon smell. At home at night, you can actually jack off smelling cinnamon from a spice jar, think of Joey, and have an explosive cum.
What you don't know about Joey: He fantasizes about being all alone on an island with another boy. There's nobody else around and nobody to tell them what to do, and the other boy is a little bit bigger, and he wants to fuck him every day and night. They fuck all night and sleep late and wake up in the morning and fuck again, before they even get up to pee. They never wear clothes. They're on the island naked all the time.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with: Brandon P., boy #2.
What they do with each other: Well, as remarkable as it seems, Joey is able to take Brandon's big horse cock up his ass. You need to be really patient and persistent to get one of those big ones up your butt for the first time. But Joey wanted a big one, and Brandon sure has one. They do it a lot at Joey's house, in the laundry room down in the basement. Mostly Joey sits on Brandon's hard cock, but one time, Brandon bent him over the hamper standing up and took him kind of hard. Joey shot his first cum that day, bending over the hamper, having Brandon holding him by the hips and fucking him.It felt great. He shot cum all over his sister's little panties laying on top of the hamper pile.
Is he a top or a bottom? – Joey's a bottom.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Jacked off smelling them. Showed him your cock at the urinal. He didn't seem interested. Just zipped up and walked away. But later that night as we was leaving, he stopped at your office door. "Hey, coach," he said. You looked up. He quickly pulled his pants down, thrust his hips forward and showed you his hard little cock. "See you later," he grinned, putting it back in his pants and quickly walking away.
What you'd like to do with him – Teach him not to show his cock to a grown-up without sticking around to face the music. Joey's a skinny little boy. You could pick him up easily and set him straight down on something very hard and surprising. You've seen him spending a lot of time with Brandon lately, and if he's got room for that, he's got room for you, too.
A memorable quote from Joey, overheard in the locker room – "You think Brandon's cock is big when it's dangling loose, you should see it when he gets hard. Not that I'd know. I just heard rumors." (Yeah, rumors, right. If you call that thing up your ass a "rumor" kid, then all right, "rumor" it is).
Boy Number 13 – Christian R.
What he's wearing in the picture – Kind of a weird-looking cotton bikini-brief little swimsuit. A little too loose on him. Where he came up with that one, I haven't got a clue.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – City Thread green striped boxer briefs.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – 9. Christian, what are you doing in those things, man? Throw them in the washing machine already. Front and back, just too much.
What you do know about Christian – He's the other uncut boy on your team. Although unlike Nathan, Christian's foreskin is fully retracted. He seems fascinated by it, so you think it happened just recently. He's always rubbing it up and down in the shower. Not really masturbating, but just sort of picking at it, sliding the hood up and then sliding it back down. He's more than happy to show it to the other boys, who find it fascinating.
What you don't know about Christian – He fucked two girls this year and both of them were his cousins. One was two years younger than him and one was three years older. The older one had a really hairy pussy and he really liked the way it tasted. When he jacks off, all he can think of is fucking girl's pussy. He likes looking at all the cocks of all the boys on his swim team, but only because he likes to imagine them sliding in and out of cunts. He'd like to line up 14 girls for a party, and have all the boys on the swim team fuck them all at once. And then take turns and switch to the next girl, 14 times in a row.
The other boy on the team he wants to be friends with, but doesn't want to mess around with personally – Jonathan S., boy #4
What they do with each other – Christian would like to be FRIENDS with Jonathan S., but Jonathan always seems like he's hinting he wants to do sex stuff. And Christian really likes girls. He doesn't want to hurt Jonathan's feelings. He really does like him. But he just wishes Jonathan was into girls. He thinks it would be really sexy to get two girls together in his room and do it to them in front of each other. Or take turns doing each one. He thinks maybe he should do some sex stuff with Jonathan and then try to get Jonathan interested in some girls with him. He doesn't know how that works, but he'd be willing to trade. He'd do boy sex with Jonathan if Jonathan would do girl sex with him.
Is he a top or a bottom? – Christian's a top for girls. And I guess eventually for Jonathan too. He'd just have to close his eyes and pretend Jonathan's ass was a tight, slippery girl's pussy.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Jacked off smelling them. Fucking ripe, man. Asked him once how he liked to be uncut. Did he ever feel strange in front of the other boys. "I guess I never really thought about it," he answered. "It's just extra skin. No big deal." He took it out and showed it to you. "Girls like it because it looks different." You take your time looking at it and he takes his time showing it to you. "Nice," you say. "If you ever need any help making it feel good, let me know." He puts it back in his pants. Shrugs. "Nah," he says. "Thanks, coach, but I kinda like girls."
What you'd like to do with him – Stick your tongue up that extra skin and leisurely lick the flavor inside. Maybe slide a long finger up his stinky little ass while you do it. He's a little blond-haired, brown-eyed darling. Tasty little nipples. Fine downy hair on his legs. Nipples painted on him like Botticelli himself did the work. God, you'd love to go all the way with this kid. Maybe he thinks he kinda likes girls, but you think you could change his mind with your tongue up his ass and your hand giving him a nice reach-around.
A memorable quote from Christian, overheard in the locker room – "I need some pussy this weekend. Come on, you guys. Who's got a big sister I can borrow?"
Boy Number 14 – Benny J.
What he's wearing in the picture – Blue, white and red knee-lengths with an abstract surf pattern. Oh, he's just amazingly beautiful. Perfect hair, perfect ears, nose, lips, everything. You're half in love with him, half in lust.
Type of undies he left behind in the changing room – Hanes Skylanders boys briefs.
Smell level, stain level of those undies, on a 1-10 scale – 5. Aw, Benny. You smell so perfectly sweet. Those are the kind of undies you just want to stuff in a Ziplock bag and take home for later. Just without a doubt, sweet, perfect boy ass. Probably your favorite on the whole team. When you see a fresh pair of his on the bench during warm-ups, you head right for them. Like little works of art. Mmm, what a generous artist. Perfect.
What you do know about Benny? He has a tiny little mole on his left testicle. You saw it once while he was changing, and it's fascinated you ever since. You'd like to see it again. As soon as possible. He also has sex with Ryan. They're the only two boys you've ever actively seen kissing and fondling each other. It happened in the back row of the locker room. You heard some noises, so you walked back quietly and there they were. French kissing, grabbing each other's crotches with one hand. Ryan had his finger down Benny's speedo, fingering him with a forefinger with his other hand. Benny was moaning, really enjoying it. You quietly walked away and gave them their privacy. Went back to your office, drew the blinds and jacked off.
What you don't know about Benny – His dad had anal sex with him this month. They were leading up to it for a long time, and this month it finally happened. Benny's mom died when he was little, so it's just him and his dad at home. And now they sleep in the same bed and do it every night. Benny really likes it. He's in love with his dad. He thinks of him as a dad, and as his boyfriend. He thinks of Ryan as his boy-boyfriend and his dad as his man-boyfriend. He gets fucked by both of them. And he both of their cocks, big and little. He really likes getting fucked now. It's his favorite thing in the world.
The other boy on the team he likes to mess around with – Ryan V., boy #10.
What they do with each other – They talk about Benny's dad. They talk about Ryan's uncle. They compare notes. Then they get so horny they have to suck and fuck each other. They're trying to think of a way they can get all four of them together to do stuff together. Maybe go on a camping trip together. They're really trying to figure it out. Ryan likes the taste of cum and wishes Benny could make some. But in the meantime, he's really happy to fuck Benny's ass, and Benny's really happy to let him.
Is he a top or a bottom? – Benny's a bottom. And he will be all his life.
What you've done with him personally – Sniffed his underwear. Jacked off smelling them. Hit on Benny just a little, because you know he's sexually active with Ryan and his dad. But he turned you down. "Sorry, coach, I just love my dad for now, that's all." He was really honest about it. "Don't tell, okay?" And you promised you wouldn't. And you never have.
What you'd like to do with him – Everything, of course, but you won't push it on him. In the real world, you'll leave him alone. Let him have has privacy and peace with his dad and his little boyfriend. But fuck, when you jack off to the picture of all these boys on your swim team, somehow it's little Ryan at the end of the front row who always pushes you over the top.
A memorable quote from Benny, overheard in the locker room, two other boys – "When your butt itches, just put your finger in it, all the way deep. That's what I do." (God, how you'd love to be that lucky finger).
You finish your second drink, stare at Benny's face on your laptop screen, and standing up, still hearing his final words in your mind, "all the way deep, that's what I do." You stare at his pretty face, thinking about fucking him.
"Oh yeah, baby," you grunt at his picture. "I'll scratch that itch for you, all the way deep."
Thinking of scratching that itch the long way, with your big, fat cock, you take two more strokes on your hair-trigger fuckstick, and absolutely blast a load of thick, white fuck sauce all over your desk.
"UNNNGH, BENNNEEEEE...!" you grunt as the hot gobs of jizz just erupt from your cock. There's so much of it. You shoot it everywhere, dreaming of Benny. You dream of painting him, covering him, coating him with your man cum. "Take my cock, baby," you whisper at his picture. "Take it. Eat it. Lick my fucking cum off my dick. I'll scratch that itch."
The boy stares back from the computer screen unblinking, bright-eyed and beautiful.You picture them all asleep, all the beautiful boys on your team. Hands inside their underwear, holding their hard little penises in slumber. You're exhausted, finish your drink, and call it a night.
Thank you, Benny. Thank you, Mighty Water Dolphins.
We can all go to sleep now.
Sweet dreams.
Love,
Zachyboy
z.blake@mail. | null | null | Authors/Zachyboy/mighty-water-dolphins.txt |
90,164 | Zachyboy | Everybody Meet Kieran | You've been babysitting Kieran for years now.
You met him first when he was a little boy, bright-eyed and happy, and other than a few sniffs of his undies in the hamper, you always left him alone. You just never had the opportunity.
But life has a way of surprising you sometimes.
Because now you're going hiking.
Now you're going camping.
Just you.
Just Kieran.
No Mom. No Dad.
And no hurry to get Kieran back home.
You're all alone with Kieran and you're going to fuck him outside.
He's way old enough now.
You have a tent, and an air mattress and a guarantee of privacy just a half-mile up the cliff.
But first, you take a picture.
Because Kieran's still a virgin and...
"Come on, babe, let's take your picture," you tell him....
And what you really mean is, "Come on, babe, someday you might want to see a picture of your very last moment of virginity."
You want him standing like this, poised on the edge of his manhood.
Still a boy. Still an innocent.
Before you lead him back to the tent and fuck his chastity away.
He's unblemished now, untainted, unsullied with man cum.
But he knows what's coming. He knows where it's going.
He knows why he's here.
And he wants it a lot.
Oh yeah.
Kieran wants it too.
You take his picture, you take his hand, then you lead him up the trail, to the tent, to relief.
It's the middle of the day but you don't care.
Some fucks can't wait for anything.
Nuh-uh.
Some fucks won't wait until night.
Your thick, heavy balls have been churning up sperm for Kieran for years.
When did you first want to fuck him but didn't?
Since you first babysat him at 7?
The shiny slippery little bathtub boy whose stinky ass you first fingered clean?
Since you first sucked his cock at 9 – when he was randy, ready, and already horny for your mouth?
Your finger dipping into his boy-wet crease.
Save some for later.
You wouldn't wash that finger for days.
"Smell this," you told him, rubbing it under his nose. "That's you. That's beautiful."
He giggled, "That's gross."
"No," you said, and you fingered him again.
You fingered him. Felt him. And you smelled him together. Both of you. Inhaling his beauty.
He first sucked you back and he swallowed your load at 10. He was proud.
Precious deep blowjob as you deep-cocked his throat and the room smelled like boy sweat and dreams come true.
Since you first cock-tipped his asshole at 11, so sweet.
So tight. So hot. A burning sweet kiss for the tip of your cock.
Hungry, sweet and mushroom deep.
Nipping at your cockhead. Little hungry anus nips.
Him on his knees with your cock in his hole, twisting against it, begging for more.
Already a pro at this. Already wanting it bad.
As much as you could give him.
But he was too little and you were too kind.
"Not yet," you whispered. "We'll wait. We'll do it soon."
So instead that night, he gobbled your cock and ate you like a boy whore.
It was the month you would have fucked him if he hadn't moved away.
And now he's back.
And now he's 14.
And now he's in your tent, sweaty, hard and smelling like boy.
You lift his feet and you put your face in his boy cunt.
He smells so rich, so deep, so perfect.
You nuzzle his ass. You smell his hot balls.
You lick across his perineum and his perfect, bursting dick shaft.
He's so fucking hard for this, you think he might explode.
Spontaneously combust into boyjizz and memory.
He moans and he wiggles, and his cock scent fills the air.
He's been hiking all day. And the whole tent smells like boycock and boyass.
Who would ever, in a million years, need to smell anything -- anything -- but that?
Your cock is sticky with precum and you really need to spend it.
You wipe it on his lips.
He whimpers and he licks.
He closes his eyes and he groans.
He fingers his own asshole.
Oh God, he is ready.
He's been ready for years, and now it's time.
You lift his lean legs.
You suck on his toes.
You slip your cock into the heat of his boyhole.
He groans, a moan, a long sustained boynote.
He's shaking. It's bliss.
He didn't know it would be so big.
He didn't know it would feel so full.
"Shhh," you whisper. "Push out like you have to poop."
"Nnngh," he moans, doing what you say...and whoomp, it's in him.
"Oh Goddddd," he groans. "Oh God, Oh God."
So full. So thick. So in-him. So good.
You bite his lower lip.
His tongue is begging for yours.
His head tossed back in awe and acquiescence, he grabs the sleeping bag and lets you fuck him.
Fistfuls of downy fireproof thickness as your cock takes him fully to a world he's just dreamed of.
The fuckworld. The you-world.
Your cock is a god to him.
Completion and knowing.
He moans and he grabs your ass to pull you in further.
You're embedded in him.
All you can smell is his cock and his ass and his sweaty-hot forehead.
He's alive with whimpers and deep-chested groans.
Hot little boygrowls.
Sweet treble fuck notes.
He comes alive beneath your man-hard drilling.
Your slow, deep corkscrew of bone-hardened manfuck.
Right up his ass.
Right up his tiny and beautiful ass.
Fuck his boy cunt.
That's Kieran. And he waited for you.
Could have had anybody.
But wanted you first.
Listen to his whimpers.
Feel his sweet shivers as he starts fucking back.
Electric and open.
This is what joy feels like.
This is what boy bliss is.
Suck his lean fuck toes.
Fill your mouth with his creamy feet as you fuck him.
Stick it in him. Fuck him deep.
Watch him squirt as your dick drills him deeper.
Gushes of boysquirt. And he's shaking and he's moaning.
You'll eat that later.
But now, you don't care.
Grab his hips and RUT him with your man-cum.
That's it! SHOOT it in him!!
Press it deep! Let it loose!
Let it run in a flood and gush out into him!!
Feel his sphincter squeezing your cocktip!
Jerking, spasming, sucking out droplets!
Fuck, he's happy. Fuck, he's proud.
He needed that fuck and so did you.
Five long years that fuck's been coming.
Five long years to fuck his boyass.
Completion.
Release.
And he wants it again.
Moaning. Kissing you.
Cum dripping from his tender, gaping assplace.
He bites your ear lobe.
He fingers his wetness.
"Again," he whispers.
"Do it again."
Kieran's a good boy, everybody.
Everybody meet Kieran.
I wonder who we're going to meet next. | null | null | Authors/Zachyboy/everybody-meet-kieran.txt |
90,288 | Mortalc01l | Daydream | You come in, dressed in a skimpy little summer dress and a pair of red heels. You have been thinking about this all day, wondering what I have in store for you.
I get up, walk over, and kiss you hard. Your mouth opens, and you let me gently suck and bite your tongue. I grab you by your soft hair and force your mouth onto mine, your lips soft and warm. I lead you over to the couch and force you over the back of it. You're standing on tiptoes, your legs feeling weak and trembling. I run my hands down your shoulders and exquisite bottom. You arch your back. I slowly lift your dress and see that you are not wearing anything underneath. "BAD Girl!" This means that you planned on getting me all worked up when you dressed this morning. I may have to punish you a little for being such a tease.
I can feel your wetness; the way you smell makes me instantly hard. I reach into my pocket. I have been saving this for a special occasion. Since you have been teasing me all day with tantalizing phone calls, I feel like I should make you wait for your reward. You cannot see what I am doing, but you hear me fumbling briefly with something, then, "SNAP!" You have heard that noise before, the sound of a latex examination glove.
You are soaking wet now. Your juices are slowly dripping down the insides of your thighs, your legs trembling from being on tiptoes so long. I slowly draw my latex-covered finger over your inner lips. Inside, you are warm and SO wet. You thrust back at my hand, wanting something inside you, needing to be filled, penetrated. Slowly I insert one finger. It feels different from skin, the latex smooth and slick with your wetness. I probe you, gently at first. You are tight, and I gently force my finger deeper, opening you up.
I start to pump my finger harder. You are making little mewing sounds, biting your lip as you thrust your hips back to meet me. I add a second finger, you feel me stretching you, invading you. You love the feeling of having your pussy full. Each stab of my fingers goes slow and deep, both fingers penetrating you, my fingertips brushing your G-spot. You push back harder, trying to get me to go faster, but I control the pace. A third finger now. You cannot believe how smooth and sensual the gloved fingers feel inside you. Your pussy grips my fingers now, tight around them, almost trying to suck them deeper inside you. You can't take much more. You are stretched to your limit, your pussy SO full.
I stop and turn you onto your back. You are lying on the couch now, your skirt up around your waist. My fingers resume their exploration, back inside you. I lower my head and kiss your pussy lips, running my tongue over them, tasting you. I work my way up to your clit, slowly sucking it into my mouth. The vacuum of my mouth doubles the sensations you are feeling, and you can feel your orgasm getting near.
But ah... I forget... I am supposed to punish you for teasing me. I keep my pressure on your clit, licking it from the root to the sensitive tip. Slowly, I take my fingers out of your pussy. You squirm, trying to somehow keep them inside you, you beg me "please baby" "please". My soaking fingers gently rub the tight little ring of your anus, gently easing my finger against the resistance. The latex is so smooth that the tip of my finger slips in easily.
I remember the toy you bought us. The one you told me doesn't "fit" in you. We shall see. You are relaxed from the assault of my fingers. I show you the black dildo, its huge head, the shaft shiny and wet. I place it at the entrance to your anus, slowly rubbing it along the crack of your butt, getting it slick from a combination of oil and your pussy juices. You try to relax, accept the intrusion, but you are sure it's too big. Suddenly the massive head thrusts past the resistance, the pain making you squeal and your eyes get very wide, but it feels so good. You have never felt like this before, completely full, stretched.
I slowly push the rubber cock inside your oiled asshole, just an inch or two inside you. I pull it back, you feel yourself stretching wider again as the head pulls part of the way out, then plunging back in as I push it deeper, deeper. You are thrusting uncontrollably now, my fingers finding your clit and starting to pull and twist it, my fingers inside your pussy fucking you hard and deep. The dildo in your ass is all the way inside you now, I am fucking you with the entire length of it, first the head stretching your asshole then the long slow thrust all the way to the base, your ass taking all of it and wanting more.
You feel me increase the pressure of my fingers on your clit even more, pinching it, squeezing, pulling. The sensation of pleasure from your clit combined with the slick, hardness of the dildo pumping your ass takes you over the edge. You come, screaming and shuddering. I feel your spasms, pulsing, your anus gripping the rubber dildo, squeezing it as it continues to probe you. Your orgasm hits you hard, again and again you come as I pump the dildo inside your tight, hot ass until you finally go limp, your breathing heavy, you flushed red.
I lean over and kiss you. | null | null | Authors/Mortalc01l/Daydream (MF, anal, toy).txt |
90,627 | null | Jayne got on the Basketball team | Years later, I would come to grips with this reality when I was in school.
I decided to join the basketball team, despite the fact that my high school height was not exactly appropriate. I was too short. The coach had denied me many times. I was at wits' end. Then, I came up with a plan. I would use my "charm" to get the position.
One day, after the gym, I hung around in the locker room until all the other boys had gone. I heard Coach Manny making his way through between the benches. I dropped my shorts and straddled the bench with my pink pussy facing the direction I knew he'd be coming down.
As I heard him approach closer, I lifted my ass in the air. A clearer invitation could not have been made. He seemed startled to see me there.
"Hey, what's going on?" he said brusquely. "What are you doing here?"
"Nothing," I replied in the most feminine voice I could muster. "I was just thinking..."
"About what?"
Now his demeanor had become much more friendly. He came up next to me and was staring at my boy cunt. I could tell his mouth was watering. Without moving, I replied:
"How I'm going to get home today. I missed my ride."
"Well, I could drive you, I guess," he almost stammered.
"Oh, would you?" I played coy.
"Sure," he said.
I felt his hand running over my cheeks, squeezing them.
"That's a beautiful butt you've got there."
"It's all yours, coach. I need big cock now."
He smiled, and before I could count to two, he had his long, thick cock in my mouth. I took him all in me. I flicked and licked, and he groaned and pushed my head, and I sucked his sweaty meat. His balls were huge, and I started running my fingers under them and caressing them. His cock was like a lead pipe.
I nibbled on his head and licked the length of his shaft. He was ready. He took a tube of lube I had "carelessly" left lying on the floor and lubed my pussy and his dick. He didn't bother to nudge. He rammed the cock right up my ass.
"Aiiiiiiii," I cried out.
"Go slowly, I need to adjust."
His face was red. He was blushing because it was obvious he'd never done this before.
"Okay."
He gently retracted his cock and then pushed in again, slower and more smoothly. I moaned: "Fuck me, coach. I love your big dick. Make me your baby girl."
He pumped me, and I could see his hand going for my crotch. But he stopped short.
"Squeeze my little cock, please," I whined.
He finally did. And he loved it. He was fondling me as if I were his toy. I could see the expression of pleasure in his eyes as he played with me. I guess that was a first for him too.
He began fucking me harder, and I could tell he was about to cum. I cried: "Come in my ass, come in your little girl's cunt. Please fill me up..."
He did. And it overflowed down my crack and onto the bench. I turned and gathered some on my fingers. I licked them clean and smiled:
"You taste so good, Manny."
He looked at me in astonishment. As I stood up, my cock was begging for release. I began to rub it in front of him. He took my hand away and kneeled:
"I've always wanted to suck a cute dick. Come here..."
It seemed he had practiced because he was good at it. His warm mouth felt delicious, and as I erupted, he swallowed my boy cum almost in one gulp. He squeezed my balls and drained me in his mouth.
I smiled, and he smiled back.
"Can we do this again sometime?"
"Sure. Just ask."
"I certainly will."
"Well, do you need that ride?"
"Yes."
On the way home, I asked if I could join the basketball team. He pulled out his semi-erect cock in the car, and I went down on him again. Slurping and sucking. Squeezing and rubbing. After filling my mouth with cum, he welcomed me to the team.
Now, the reason I wanted to join the basketball team was not to play basketball. I loved the locker room, the smell of men. It turned me on more than anything. Of course, I was transfixed by the cocks, balls, and asses that I saw as well.
It didn't take long for the other guys to figure that out. That was what I hoped.
One day after a game, I was in the locker room just snooping around when the tallest guy on the team, Tim, grabbed me by the hair.
"What are you looking for, girly?" he sneered.
I guess he thought I'd be offended.
"Oh, nothing," I smiled at him.
"Guys, she's here!" he hollered.
As it turned out, I was on the very bench where I had seduced the coach. Soon, eleven sweaty high school jocks were standing around me. I sat on the bench.
Tim pulled my hair and made me stand up. He tugged my shorts down. My cock was so hard it stood straight out.
There was a rowdy round of laughter.
"He's a baby."
"Oh, what a cute little pecker."
And on and on. I was proud of my little dick. This didn't bother me.
Eleven boys surrounding me, oh my god, I couldn't have dreamt of a better scene. I was now naked, and I could see, one by one, the boys dropping their shorts. If my cock was already hard, the sight of that delightful array of teenage dicks brought my senses to a halt. I was breathless.
"Look at him, he's drooling," said one whose cock would have been my first choice. I probably was.
They laid my tiny naked frame on the bench, face up, head dangling over the side, legs spread over either side. The boy with the sculpted member lowered himself onto my face.
"Start sucking," he demanded.
I could smell the sweat and manhood on his long cock. I opened my mouth and took him in me; he tasted like sex. He dipped his cock, I swirled my tongue and grabbed him, squeezing and caressing the smooth shaft.
I could barely see, but I felt someone near my splayed crotch, rubbing my hard balls. Stroking me. A tongue ran over my cock. He lifted my legs up, exposing my palpitating pink hole. A thick, wet finger was jammed up my ass. I squirmed and wiggled, showing off my pretty pussy.
"This whore is tasty."
"Let's teach her what happens to little girls that get lost in the boys' locker room," I heard loud laughter.
Then, without warning, a thick cock split my tight little boy cunt.
"Aiiiiii," I screamed. "Fuck me!"
They were oblivious, with a cock in my mouth and another in my ass. I began to take the teenage hormone-crazed players on.
I was positioned on all fours, now, ass in the air. One cock after the other was fucking me in both my open holes. When one would lubricate my pussy with cum, another would penetrate me. I contracted my muscles so they could feel my boy pussy, and another hot stream of milk would fill my insides. My mouth was dripping with boy juice, as was my butt.
Occasionally, someone would slap my cheeks and grab my balls.
"Open up, you slut!"
I obeyed.
After about two hours, I was drenched in cum, inside and out. My hole was gaping wide, and one after the other took turns spanking me, fingering me, and again, fucking me.
I was in heaven. I lost count of how many times I spurted. My poor little dick never had a chance to deflate.
At last, I found myself alone, on the floor with semen in and around me. I licked my fingers and massaged my distended pussy.
So, that was my initiation into the world of sports. | null | null | Authors/Jayne/Jayne got on the Basketball team.txt |
90,752 | null | Virginity schmirginity | Young-Shin worried about meeting her college boyfriend's family for two weeks. Dave was from rural western Pennsylvania, and while he was sophisticated enough to leave his small-town provincialisms behind when he came to school, the same could not be said about his parents. When they found out about Young-Shin, they almost hit the roof.
"Young-what?" said his father, apparently not well-versed in Korean names. Dave's mother didn't even bother trying to pronounce the name.
"Why can't you date American girls?" she said.
But Dave liked this particular Korean girl. She was smart, funny, and extremely attractive, with a slim, knockout body, a round, pretty face, gorgeous skin, and a perky ass worth laying trenches and dying for. When they first met, Young-Shin had agreed to go to the movie with Dave because she was curious about Western men. He was curious about Asian women. Fortunately, she knew English well enough that they could hit it off from the start, and by the third date, she couldn't get him off her doorstep.
Still, the visit to the parents, two months into their dating, did not settle right with her. Young-Shin liked Dave, but she felt there were still things to learn about him. She argued that a trip to his house was too soon. But Dave cited his mother's grudging acceptance of their relationship as a signal to try taking things to another stage. For lack of a solid reason to say no, she agreed.
Finally, the weekend came. They got in Dave's battered old Ford pickup and roared through miles of cornfields, reaching his house by nightfall. She gasped at the size of it as they went through the gates. It was a mansion. The lights were on, and a couple of dogs came running out to greet them. Young-Shin shivered. Despite the posh property, the house was surrounded by inky blackness, hardly what she was used to back in densely populated South Korea. But Dave seemed so comfortable with it that she took heart and followed him inside.
His parents hugged Dave warmly and then took a look at her. They looked like they'd never seen an Asian girl before. To their credit, however, they looked her trim form up and down -- she'd dressed ultra-conservatively -- and smiled.
"Hello!" Dave's mother yelled. "Welcome to America!"
"Mom," Dave groaned. "She can understand you without the shouting."
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Bellefield," Young-Shin said, in slightly accented English. Dave's father held out a hand. She took it and shook. His mother shrugged, casting reservations aside, and stepped forward to hug her gently.
"We've heard so much about you," Mrs. Bellefield said. Young-Shin let loose one of her bright smiles and won over Dave's father instantly. He grinned widely back at her, and the smiles spread around the room.
"Is Alan here?" Dave asked.
"Yeah, he'll be back in a minute," his father said, referring to Dave's younger brother. Dave had told Young-Shin about him. He'd described him as a good athlete but lacking discipline. She detected a hint of jealousy in his voice.
Headlights from an approaching car in the driveway flashed across the wall. "There he is now," Dave said.
In a moment, Alan came through the door with a lopsided grin. He had a shaggy head of curly hair and outdoor clothes on. He hugged Dave hello and then regarded Young-Shin. His gaze was so intense that Young-Shin blushed and shifted her feet.
"Kee-rist, Dave," Alan said. "Can you make a poster out of her and send it to me?"
Dave delivered a swift punch to Alan's shoulder.
"Sorry," Alan said. "That was crude." He held out his hand. Young-Shin, flattered despite his comment, took his hand with a little bow. Alan smiled and returned the bow awkwardly. Young-Shin laughed good-naturedly at his attempt. She gave him a little instruction, and in a moment, he did it perfectly.
"Hey," Alan said, "I like her! How long are you staying?"
"Until Sunday morning," Dave said. "Easy, kiddo. She didn't grow up around farm animals."
Everyone laughed. They sat down for dinner and then dessert, and then talked into the evening. Dave and Young-Shin ran out to rent a movie, and the family watched it together later. Finally, it was time for bed. Young-Shin went to the basement to sleep in the den on a roll-out bed.
She washed up and slipped into a silk pair of pajamas. She was on the verge of sleep when the door opened silently, and a dark figure slipped in.
"Dave?" she whispered. And then he was there, on her bed, smiling.
"Hey, babe," he said. "I couldn't handle thinking about you down here all alone in your silk pajamas."
He laid next to her, and they kissed. Something about being home lit quite the fire in Dave. She let him fondle her breasts, and she reached down his boxers and pulled his cock a little bit, but when he reached for her crotch, she stopped his hand.
"Not yet," she whispered. "I'm not ready yet."
He sighed but nodded. She knew that Dave would have fucked her on the second date, maybe the first, but she wasn't ready to lose her virginity yet. It was something she'd lived by until this, her 20th year. She saw how men looked at her, both in Korea and America, and she knew she could lose her virginity within hours of deciding to. But she hadn't found the right man and moment yet. Dave was close to the right man, she felt, but she wasn't yet certain if he was the one.
She whacked him off until he shot his wad onto her chest and then, after some cuddling, he left. Young-Shin cleaned up and laid down to sleep. She tossed and turned. The sounds of the sleeping house were all so foreign. Outside was impossibly dark. She flipped on a light and reached for her book. Some family photos on the wall caught her eye, and she went to look at them instead. They covered the span of Dave and Alan's lifetime, from toddlers on up. In each photo, Dave and Alan were at odds over something, usually good-naturedly, but she could sense the underlying tension. She looked at the latest photo, of Dave and Alan standing next to each other. Alan bore a resemblance to Dave but with a few more masculine features. Young-Shin could see why Dave was jealous of him.
She laid down in bed to fall asleep. She found herself giggling at the memory of teaching Alan to bow, and how his curly hair had bounced ridiculously with the motion. Alan was in one of her dreams that night, but she couldn't remember any of the details. She did know that when she went to pee in the morning, her panties clung to her crotch, as if her pussy had been wet during her sleep.
Friends came over the next morning, and they organized a game of indoor water volleyball, a la the movie, Meet the Parents. Young-Shin only had a bikini, and as she came into the pool room with her lithe body squeezed into the little thing, she could see all the males throwing glances her way. Dave's mother scowled. But Young-Shin really didn't mind the looks that much. She worked hard on her figure through diet and exercise, and she appreciated the attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a strong, muscular shape coming toward her.
"Oh, Dave, did you bring--ooops!" she said, turning. It wasn't Dave but his brother, Alan. He was wearing a Speedo swimsuit. Young-Shin's eyes involuntarily swept over his crotch. Something big was bundled under there. She tore her eyes away, horrified that she'd be seen looking and also that she'd do such a thing in the first place. What was wrong with her?
"Hi Young-Shin," Alan said, with a deep bow. His tone suggested he hadn't seen her roving eyes. "Were you okay down in that den last night?"
"Oh, it's fine," she said. "I slept well."
"If you need anything, let us know," he said. "I know Dave is kind of blind sometimes."
"Yeah, he can be," she said, with a grin. "Very blind. That's just one of his flaws."
Alan grinned knowingly. "Have you played water volleyball before?" he asked.
"No, I don't even know how to play."
"Okay, you can be on my team," Alan said. "I've played this a lot more than Dave, and I know how to teach you."
Just then, Dave came out in a Speedo of his own. Young-Shin smiled at him. When no one was looking, she gave him a kiss on his cheek.
"Lookin' good," she whispered in his ear.
When the teams were divided, Dave took her by the hand.
"Oh, Dave, sorry, I told Alan I'd be on his team," she said, apologetically.
"That way I can show her how to beat you!" Alan cried, leaping in the pool. As the game progressed, Dave and Alan taunted each other mercilessly. Young-Shin thought Dave sounded a little more shrill, however, as if he were less confident. On the contrary, she liked Alan's easy demeanor. Maybe it was the arrogance of youth, she thought. But she secretly took his side in the arguments, and when Alan spiked the ball into the water near Dave, she let out a whoop.
"Yeah! Yeah!" Alan shouted, jumping up and down. He came to give Young-Shin a double high-five, and she complied, jumping, and their wet bodies slapped together for an instant.When the water cleared from her face, she looked at Dave and saw his eyes smoldering.
"Oh, come on, Dave," Alan said. "It's just a friggin' game."
Dave tried to pretend he wasn't upset. The whole thing just made Young-Shin a little more irritated at him. After the game, however, when she went to change in the bathroom, she was shutting the door when Dave held it and came inside.
"I can't help myself," he said. "Seeing you jump around in your swimsuit turns me into an animal."
Feeling a little guilty for taking Alan's side -- and joining his team -- she let him take off her bikini bottoms and rub his fingers over her pussy, but she wouldn't let his finger penetrate.
"Come on, babe, let's do it," Dave murmured into her ear as she stroked his penis.
"Here?" She said. "Come on, we can't. It's not right."
"When is it going to be the right time?" He said.
"Not here in the bathroom, that's for sure," she said, scowling. Dave groaned.
"Is that the only thing that's important?" She said. "I let you come in here and put your hand on my vagina, but since I don't let you stick your penis up there, you get all frustrated?"
"Shhh! They'll hear you! Young-Shin, I didn't mean it that way--"
"Yes, you did! Now get out, please. Please," she said.
Dave looked at her and then slipped out, shaking his head. As the day went on, they were cool to each other, and she found herself speaking a lot to Alan to fill the gaps. As they talked, she began to realize that Dave had underplayed Alan whenever he described him. Alan volunteered at the animal shelter, got straight A's, and was a star soccer player. He had a sharp wit and wry sense of humor. He was hardly the disorganized bum Dave described.
Although Young-Shin didn't consciously think about it, all of Alan's qualities cleared a lot of hurdles deep in the nerve center of her mind. The only conscious recognition she had of this was when she found herself checking out Alan when no one was looking. Yes, he was only a high schooler, but he was good-looking in a way only 18-year-olds can be, and something about his energy tingled a nerve somewhere deep inside, yes, she hated to admit, her pussy.
Dave seemed to sense some sexual energy going on, too, for once during the afternoon he pulled her aside.
"He's just a high schooler, you know," He said.
"What are you talking about?" She replied, coolly.
"I... sense something... maybe it's one-sided, but you and Alan...," he said.
"Well, your damn senses are wrong," she said.
"Let's hope they are," he said. "I don't want anything going on behind my back. Alright?"
She glared at him. "You can be a real idiot sometimes, you know?"
Nonetheless, she kept her eye on Alan throughout the day on Saturday, and she realized at some point that in her eyes, Alan could do no wrong. Why was that? Because she was angry at Dave? Or was it something else? Usually, she told herself, when your mind disregards the downfalls of a person or thing, it's because your mind is trying to propel you to a certain conclusion, often a somewhat unwise one, involving that person or thing.
She was surprised at how much she kept thinking of Alan despite her attempts to reconcile with her boyfriend. In her mind, Dave became a distraction to the task at hand, which was making a connection with Alan.
She found herself making eye contact with Alan more and more often. At first, he didn't notice, then he seemed a little confused by it, but then at some point, he smiled at her, and she blushed and smiled back before cutting her eyes away. She let him brush up against her as they put dishes away, and she laughed a little long at his jokes. A part of her wondered what kind of effect this was having on a teenage boy. She felt a little twinge of guilty excitement as she realized it was probably quite profound.
Late that afternoon, they were downstairs playing cards when they heard a commotion upstairs. In a few minutes, Alan came downstairs scowling. As he gathered towels, he explained that he had spilled his fish tank all over his bed when he was changing the water.
"The mattress will be soaked for days," he said.
"That's one of the fucking dumbest things I've ever heard," Dave said. Young-Shin shot him a dirty look.
"Well, just sleep in the den--oops!" His father said. "Sorry, Young-Shin has already claimed that spot! Better take the van!" They all laughed. Young-Shin's stomach churned pleasantly at the thought of what might unfold in the porn movie scenario of herself sharing the den with Alan.
They pondered Alan's sleeping situation until finally, he said he could clear a space for his sleeping bag in the storage room, just across the hall from the den. His mother suggested the living room couch, but Alan said he hated having the cat in his face all night.
The proposed arrangement presented its own little sexual undercurrent. It meant Alan and Young-Shin would be alone in the basement, separated by only the den door. The way the house was situated, with all the bedrooms upstairs, separated from the basement by a layer of rooms and thick floors, you could hold band practice in the basement -- or romp around in bed -- without people upstairs hearing a thing.
The father sensed Dave's unease with the situation.
"Well, maybe you should sleep in Dave's room, Alan," he said.
"He snores like a buzz saw," Alan said. "I wouldn't get a wink of sleep."
"Well," his father said, "maybe Dave could have the storage room and--"
"Good idea," Dave said.
"Absolutely not!" Said their mother. "Sorry to be like that, but I'm old-fashioned, and that's out of the question." Young-Shin realized the mother was probably aware of the sexual undercurrent right now, too, but she had mistakenly blamed it on something between Dave and her.
"Well, it's settled then," Alan said. "I'll clear some boxes and get my sleeping bag for my night in the den."
Young-Shin's jaw dropped. Dave bristled.
"Your night in the STORAGE ROOM," Dave corrected frostily.
"Isn't that what I said? Yeah, my night in the storage room," Alan said. Then he realized his mistake. "Slip of the tongue." He gave Young-Shin a look. "I don't snore that loud. You won't be able to hear me in the den, Young-Shin."
She laughed absently, but her head was whirling at his little slip of the tongue. Dave didn't like it one bit. She gave him an "Aw, come on" look, but in reality, little goosebumps had raised on her skin.
Night came. Another movie. It had a sex scene, and everyone shifted uncomfortably because the parents were there. She cut her eyes to Alan, and he was looking at her. The corner of his mouth twinged as the woman on screen gasped. She cut her eyes away. Later, before she went to the den, Dave sat with her.
"Are we okay?" He said.
"Yeah, we're okay," she said. "Sorry we fought. That kind of stuff has a way of making people more upset than they should be. But I don't think you should come down tonight. Let's let things settle a bit."
He nodded and kissed her goodnight. Then he looked at her, and she could see he was thinking of Alan being right across the hall from her, a mere 20 feet or so away.
"Are you going to lock the den door?" He said. She nodded.
"Good," he said. "I never told you this, but... but I think Alan... well, lock that door. I'm sometimes afraid he's not what he seems."
She could barely keep herself from laughing at his portrayal of Alan, as if that would scare her into locking the den door against his brother and giving Dave some peace of mind. But she kept a straight face and nodded.
"I'll lock it," she said. Dave smiled in relief and slipped out. Young-Shin dressed in her pajamas and laid down. Then, acting on hormones alone, she stood up, took off the bottoms, and removed her panties before putting the pajama bottoms back on. She went to the door of the den, opened it enough for her hand, and hung the panties on the outside doorknob. She'd let them hang there until midnight, she thought, and if they didn't have their effect by then, she'd take them down.
Young-Shin laid in bed and thought about the day. She thought about Alan. She felt another little twinge of guilt. Yes, if all else failed, she wanted things to settle between she and Dave, which is why she asked him not to come down. They needed a little space right now. But the bigger reason -- and maybe the reason she felt any urge at all to reconcile with Dave, as it would keep her in touch with this house -- was that she didn't want Dave to come to the den because she hoped Alan would instead.
She didn't know what she would do if Alan did come, but she figured it would be something that sent his mother through the roof. She thought of her virginity vow. Dave hadn't been able to break it, but Dave hadn't been able to tingle that nerve in her pussy like the sight of Alan in his swimsuit had, either.
The clock tick-tocked. The house quieted. It was 11. Then 11:30. Then 11:45. Young-Shin let out a little sigh and started to get up. Then she heard the creak. It could be nothing, she told herself. Or maybe it was Dave, disregarding her wish. Wouldn't he be upset to find her panties on the doorknob?
All the risk and uncertainty made her a little excited as the floor creaked again. It was definitely a footstep somewhere. There were more, and then the light padding of feet on carpet. They stopped at her door. For a long time, they were quiet, then she heard the knob jingle, and the door opened. She saw a curly head backlit by the fishtank light outside the door, and she smiled. Alan shut the door quietly behind him.
In the dim light of the nightlight, he came over to the fold-out bed. He was wearing only boxers. She could hear his heavy breathing triggered from the way he found her panties.He had then bunched it in his hand. It occurred to her that he might be wondering if she was asleep, or if those panties weren't meant for him. Her heart pounded over the fact that he had mustered the guts to come over.
"Well, Alan," she said, answering two of his questions, and letting the third one hang there for a moment before she said, "Are you going to come here?"
In her life, Young-Shin could not quite recall anything like the thrill she felt when Alan eased onto the bed next to her. She turned on her side to him and reached out a hand so her fingertips brushed against his bare chest. They were both breathing a little more quickly.
"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to come," he said.
"Yes you were sure," she said. "Otherwise you wouldn't have. What convinced you?"
"Well, I heard Dave swearing as he went up the stairs," Alan said, "so I knew you'd be free tonight." She let out a little giggle.
"And I just wanted to come see you. I wanted it more than anything," he said.
"You just want to see me?"
"Well..."
"You're just a boy," she said.
"I'm legal!"
She snorted. "But really, you're just a boy."
"Look," he said, starting to rise, "if you don't want me here--"
"Shhh, silly," she said. "That's not what I mean. You're a man, very much a man, but you're also just a boy and you don't know what you want. But you will know."
He looked at her. She tilted over and kissed him on the mouth. He was unresponsive at first, then kissed her back awkwardly.
"Wow," she said, pulling away with a little laugh. "What, you've never done that?"
"Never."
She laughed. "You're kidding, right? Girls must be throwing themselves at you at school. Surely you allowed ONE of them to kiss you."
"I'm shy."
"But you're not too shy to come down here."
"You're... different," he said.
"Oh?"
"You're... Asian," he said. "We don't have any Asian girls in my school. You're in lily white land."
"So you think you can come in here, no problem? I'm just some easy Asian chick?"
"No," he said. "That's not what I'm saying. Now you're putting words in MY mouth. I feel... the urge more with you. Actually, I was afraid I was gay until yesterday when I came in and saw you."
She was silent. Dave had told her something similar, about her Asian features drawing him to her. Who knows? Maybe yellow fever runs in the family.
"So," she continued, "you've never, ever been with a girl?"
"Well..." he said, "I felt someone's breasts before. But she didn't really attract me. It ended with that."
"And you've never..."
"Huh?"
"Never.... I can't say it.... never done what they did in the movie tonight? When I looked at you?" Young-Shin said.
Alan let out a nervous laugh. "No, well, not with anyone else in the room, anyway," he said. "I've, um, done it to myself."
She laughed.
"What about you?" He said. "How many times have you and Dave done it?"
"Never."
"Not once?"
"Never."
"That asshole," Dan said. "I asked him the other day and he told me more times than I could count. I was really fucking envious of him after I saw you. So what about other guys?"
"Never."
"Wow," he said, and looked at her. "What is it, some kind of virginity vow?"
"I guess," she said. "I just never met a guy who put that urge into me."
"Oh," he said. "Well, that's okay. That's cool. What's the hurry, huh?"
She bit her lip and smiled at him. She liked the answer. "I guess we're just a couple of virgins then," Young-Shin said. "Come here."
They leaned together and kissed again. This time he was a little smoother about it, and she dashed her tongue into his mouth. He wasn't yet smooth in that department and he practically gagged her with his tongue.
"Watch it!" She said, laughing, but she was excited by his eagerness.
"Wow," he kept saying between kisses. "This is nice." Then: "Can I tell Dave about this?"
"No!" She said, laughing, and she slapped him playfully on his broad chest. They kissed again. She let her hand run along his body, feeling the tight chords of muscle. He fidgeted with his hands, so she took one and put it on her hip. He responded by rubbing up and down. At first it was mechanical and nervous, but then he started paying attention, his fingers feeling along her spine and waist.
"Wow," he said.
"You like it?"
"You have a great body. Do you know that? Jesus, I mean, I knew it when I saw you even dressed in all those bulky clothes, but then I saw you in the pool, and... wow," he said.
"I saw you in the pool too," she said, her mind drifting involuntarily to the bundle under his Speedo. "I said 'wow,' too."
He smiled. "I thought you did." He bit his lip. "Does it bug you that I'm still in, like, high school?"
"No," she lied. In truth, it would bother her if they were talking long-term relationships, but at the moment his raw energy was pretty damn desirable.
They kissed, more expertly now. His lips drifted to her jaw, to her ear. She let out a little moan to encourage him. His mouth went to her neck. She fell to her back and he leaned over her a little, and he kissed her collar bone. A question started to ask itself in her head. Where is this heading? She felt barriers crumbling inside her head as she smelled him and felt his skin and his weight.
"You smell good too..." he mumbled into her pajamas.
She reached a hand up and ran it through his hair. "Love these locks..."
"Locks of love," he said, and she laughed. Her hands played along the muscles in his chest and abdomen. He was such a youthful, strong thing. That nerve in her pussy was doing a little dance.
"Wait a minute," she said, and got up. She walked to the den door and locked it. "That'll give us a little more peace of mind," she said. Young-Shin came back to the warm bed and laid on her back. She fixed a gaze on Alan.
"Alan," she said, "do you want to touch me?"
He nodded. She unbuttoned her pajama tops, revealing a slit of olive skin. She looked at him expectantly, and he slipped his hand between the parted cloth. His hand found her bare breast and cupped it, then kneaded it experimentally. She moaned again. Then she arched, pulled at the top, and he helped her out of it. She reclined back on the bed.
"Do you want to kiss my breasts?" She said.
He nodded and lowered his head. First he kissed her belly -- like the scene in the movie -- and then he came up, to her rib cage, then to her breast, and then took her nipple in his mouth. This time she let out a gasp as he suckled her. She gripped his head with one hand and ran the other hand through her hair. Then she let the hand drop to him. It rubbed his back amorously.
"Alan," she said, and he looked up. "Come a little closer," she said, laughing at his crossways manner across the bed. He laughed at himself nervously and then laid parallel to her. She rolled into him, rubbing him again. Then her hand went to his ass. It squeezed. His eyes widened.
"Nice," she said, when feeling the rock-hard muscles. "Very nice."
He dove his head back to her chest. He ravished her for a minute before she fell back, gasping. He followed her, leaning over her to keep kissing at her breasts, seeing as that was getting him results. She took advantage of the moment, with him somewhat propped above her and exposed, and she reached down between his legs. What she felt confirmed what she had seen earlier in the pool.
Alan's eyes widened at the touch but he didn't pull away. She smiled at him.
"So I was right," she said. "You're pretty big down there?"
"I... I guess so," he said.
"Have you measured it?"
He laughed. "Yeah, I guess."
"And?"
"A little over seven inches."
"Wow," she said. "Dave is six."
He laughed. "Can I inform him of that?"
Young-Shin smiled. "Probably better not tell him information that only his girlfriend knows about him." She moved her hand there again to feel him. He was so nervous his penis seemed to withdraw into his body.
"Where's it going?" She said. "I thought it would come out for the fun."
She felt through the cloth for his testicles, found them, and that seemed to do the trick. His shaft came springing back, and Alan moaned as she grabbed hold of it through the cloth.
"Mmmm," she said. "It is big." Her heart was beating harder now, as it seemed her whole pussy was coming to life. What was going on? She had had no intention of breaking her vow tonight, although she never really thought about NOT breaking it. But it was getting harder not to trivialize it... she was 20 years old, for pete's sake... what if she didn't like it and only found out after she was married... maybe she ought to just see what it's like....
"Can I feel it?" She said. Alan nodded eagerly. Her hands swept off his boxers, which wasn't hard on his trim frame. They fell to his ankles and then he was naked, pretty much hairless in youth. But his penis was mature, and she marveled at how it sprang to full erect attention within seconds of her hands falling on its bare skin. Its head bulged in her hand. Without thinking she began to stroke it firmly. Alan's breathing quickened and he let out a little moan. A new kind of energy sprung into the bed.
She pushed him on his back and knelt over him. He let out a long gasp as she took his penis in her mouth and lubricated it with her tongue. Alan moaned and arched his back. She used her saliva as lubricant to stroke him while she laid her head next to his on the pillow.
"Come on, Alan," she said. "Show me what happens when a seven-incher comes..."
It didn't take long. Alan cried out into his forearm as a long, white jet of cum came spewing out of his penis.She laughed and pulled until his penis stopped throbbing, then grabbed some tissue and mopped it off his chest, belly, and neck.
No sooner had his cock subsided than Young-Shin learned the joys of sex with a young man. He turned to her and, hand on breast, pushed her to her back.
"My turn, right?" he said.
Young-Shin took a breath. This was the moment she would turn down Dave. But that nerve deep in her pussy demanded a new course. She nodded. Alan's eyes went wide, and he grabbed the waist of her pajamas and pulled. His eyes got wider when he saw she was completely naked underneath.
"Where are your panties...?" Then he remembered the panties on the doorknob. Young-Shin kicked the bottoms to the floor, and they were both stark naked. She grabbed his hand and, pushing aside the last Puritan strains of doubt, brought his hand to her pussy. She held her hand over his until he started working his fingers. Then she let her hand fall away so he could go to work. He laid down next to her, working his hand, rubbing her clit. She felt his penis swelling against her hip. She reached down and grabbed it.
As Alan maneuvered his fingers, she felt a wave growing inside of her like she'd never felt. Her body began to shake, and she clutched at Alan, increasingly aware of how his cock pressed against her hip. A wave originated where his hand touched her and traveled up her spine. She arched her back and let out a cry as lights exploded behind her clenched eyelids. Her first orgasm roared through her nerves like thunder.
"Alan, oh Alan," she murmured. "Come here, baby, come here."
"You want to..."
"Yes, baby, yes," she moaned. "I want you inside me."
"I don't... I need help..."
"Come here and I'll help you, dummy," she said, "Just come here!"
He shifted over on top of her, his hard cock dragging across her belly as he positioned himself between her parted knees. He knelt on the sheets, eyeing the slit between her legs hungrily. She grabbed his cock.
"We just have to get THAT," she said, squeezing it, "into THERE," she said, feeling her pussy. "That's not so hard?"
He nodded.
"Come on," she said.
He lowered his hips down gingerly to his brother's girlfriend, his eyes afire. She took the bulging head of his cock and put it against her folds of wet skin. She wasn't exactly sure of the procedure; she just guided him to where it felt best, and where it felt wettest.
He rocked his hips gently. Missed. Tried again. Poked her asshole.
"It's okay," she assured him. "Try again."
He did, and kept missing, and kept apologizing. But Young-Shin didn't mind. The truth was it turned her on. She liked the thought of him fumbling around down there, trying so hard to get at her.
"That's okay," she said. "We're just a couple of naked virgins who have no idea--Ohh-OH!" She moaned, as the head of his cock found a niche. Alan pulled back at her sound, afraid he had hurt her.
"No, that's it!" She said. "Do that again!"
She knew he was big, but she also knew she'd stretch for him, so she felt a surge of excitement as his penis began to penetrate, and her pussy ached as it accommodated him. A stab of pain flashed through her when his cock reached the halfway point inside her, officially ending her virginity, and she moaned. Alan started to withdraw out of alarm, but she stopped him.
"Just keep going," she said. "It's supposed to get better."
She felt his penis creep deeper into her pussy. Her skin stretched pleasurefully for his heft. She opened her eyes and saw that his were squeezed tight as he felt the inside of a woman for the first time.
"You're inside me," she said, with a smile, and brushed his hair back from his brow as he rocked into her. "You're not a virgin anymore..."
"You're so tight..." he moaned.
"Grind it," she moaned. "Grind it inside me."
He began to rock his hips, getting the rhythm going. His swollen penis at first hurt her some more as it felt new depths, and her insides felt cramped, but then the big thing started rubbing her clit, and the lights began to pulse behind her eyes again. In a few moments, it felt like his big dick belonged where it was.
Thrust by thrust, he wiped out the last of both their reservations. The love-making was a herky-jerky and awkward thing at first, with neither of them sure how to position themselves, but as the awesome feeling overtook them, they lost track of the details. Without thinking about it, she hooked her ankles around his firm, flexing ass and ran her hands over his contracting abdominal muscles.
He wrapped one hand around her ass and pulled her hips into him as they fucked. His long, lean body strained into hers, and she began to feel his balls rapping against her ass as he reached the limit of how deep his shaft could go. The sheets were balled up in a mess around her. Young-Shin's back and perky ass were driven along the mattress.
"OhhhHHH Alan," she moaned. "Ohhh ALAN."
His energetic penis found its groove and thrummed into her eagerly, and she caught the fever and thrust just as firmly back into him. The bed creaked and creaked. She'd heard that virgins come quickly, but the little red LED alarm clock next to the bed passed five minutes, then 10, of steady, moaning sex. She figured it was because she beat him off before hand.
Suddenly Alan paused in mid-thrust. Young-Shin let out a frustrated sniff as her surging orgasm began to subside.
"What's the matter?" She said.
"Did you hear something?"
She laid and listened. Then she heard it, too. The creak of feet on the stairs to the basement.
"Shit," she whispered. "Should you run back to your room?"
He shook his head. "I locked my door too, so he can't see where we are."
She smiled and resumed rocking her hips into his gently. "You naughty man," she said.
"Hey, I don't want to blow our cover," he said.
"Because if you do..."
"He'll dump you, and you'll never come back here..."
"And you won't be able to visit me down here anymore..." She said, thrusting her hips with a little grunt.
Alan looked at her and smiled. "Oh, you naughty, naughty girl," he said, and she laughed quietly as they heard more footsteps.
Young-Shin heard the doorknob rattle quietly. There was a moment's pause, and then she heard a light knock. Then another, slightly louder. The third time it was even louder. Finally, the footsteps receded, and they heard a knock on the storage room door. After a moment, the footsteps came striding back to the den. This time, the knock was louder.
"Young-Shin!" Dave called. "Young-Shin!"
Meanwhile, Alan and Young-Shin had resumed their fucking, albeit a little more quietly. As Alan's penis probed between her hips, she wondered what effect it would have on Dave to know that, while she hadn't permitted him to hardly touch her pussy with his fingers after two months of dating, she was doing the splits underneath his younger brother so he could explore the deepest sanctums of her pussy with his cock a mere 30 hours after they first met.
She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her moans. Finally, Dave disappeared back upstairs, convinced of what, they didn't know. But that was for later. They weren't about to throw away what they'd started -- the first sexual encounter for each of them, and a steamy one at that.
A horny teenager who's never been laid can last only so long, and she began to hear a low moan collecting in the back of Alan's throat.
"You gonna come, baby? You gonna come?" She said. He nodded his head firmly, looking down and watching his cock slip in and out, in and out, in and out, gleaming with her juices, disappearing between her legs.
"Should I..." He whispered.
"Come inside me?" she said. "Yes, YES. It's safe."
She would wonder later why she said that because it wasn't safe. She knew nothing of pregnancy risks or anything like that. It was sheer lust that commanded him to come inside her, which he did, to memorable effects.
That low moan grew to a little cry with each thrust of his penis between her legs. Their entire midsections were slick with fluid now from the enthusiastic humping. When you fuck like that, the juices can't be contained to the pussy. There was a smacking sound as they fucked.
As his cries grew, so did hers. At first, she did it to encourage him, but then it became real. His cock swelled and plunged into her cunt, and lights began to flash before her eyes. She threw her arms over her head to brace herself from being driven into the wall. Her submissive pose drove him wild, and he hugged her close as they fucked, so that their chests rubbed together.
"Alan," she moaned, hardly coherent from pleasure. "ALAN!"
"Young-Shin," he moaned. "OhGodYoung-ShinI'mgonna--"
"Come, baby, COME..."
With a shout, he lurched his whole body into hers, plunging his cock deep. There was a moment of wild anticipation, and then he came.
She was right on the brink of an orgasm when it happened, but his orgasm drove her over the edge into another orgasm that dwarfed the first. When he came, his cock pulsed like a machine gun, faster than she imagined possible, spewing bursts of semen urgently into her pussy. The throbbing of his cock against the walls of her vagina ushered in her orgasm, and the squeeze of her orgasm against his firmly entrenched penis doubled the effects for each of them.
She pulled at his ass so he drove his penis as deep as it would go. When it reached its deepest point, and it let loose yet another load, the cum splashed like a wave directly against that nerve in Young-Shin's pussy that had been calling the shots for her ever since she saw Alan in his swimsuit. The resulting orgasm would ring in her ears for the entire trip home the next day, little beknownst to Dave."ALAN, ALAN, OH, GOD, ALAN," she cried, uninhibited, as her entire body clenched. "FUCK, YES, ALAN, FUCK, OH, FUCK!"
It seemed impossible that such a thing could end, but it did. As he moaned her name in several octaves, she rubbed his balls furiously, extracting all the semen out of them that she could, and then they finally relaxed. They laid there for a long time, his cock pretty well stuck inside her, until he finally pulled it out.
They laid there for a long time in each other's arms, tracing each other's skin with their fingers.
"Are we in trouble?" she asked.
"Not unless I can't resist telling Dave that I fucked his girlfriend before he did," Alan said.
"Oh, that'll come out," she said. "Someday when you're fighting. I know it would come out."
"I'll wait until you guys break up."
"Oh, jeez, consider it done," she said. "I can't look back now." | null | null | Authors/breaking_point/Virginity schmirginity.txt |
90,757 | null | Twat the night before Christmas! | Yes, it was wrong, but Dylan wouldn't say he never thought about it. How could he not? From the day his college girlfriend brought him home to meet her family, he couldn't help but notice her younger sister, a high school senior. The first time he saw her, on a warm early fall day, she came in the door wearing nothing but a sports bra, spandex shorts, and running shoes. Her olive skin was flushed from her jog, and her black hair was pulled back, revealing a cheerful and cute face. Her perky breasts, small but well-shaped, were packed tightly under the bra.
She was just 17.
"Hi there!" She said, reaching out her hand. Dylan flashed her a smile and shook it, feeling the slender bones in her hand. She met his gaze and held it.
"Jeez, Lisa, what an entrance," said Dylan's girlfriend, Janine. "Why don't you just walk out of the shower next time?"
"Sorry," Lisa said, with a 'Who knows?' shrug at Dylan.
"That's okay," Dylan mumbled. "I mean, you just ran all over town looking like that, didn't you? Why apologize?"
Lisa laughed and clapped her hands. She stuck her tongue out at Janine. "See? He's not all uptight like you!" She said. Janine rolled her eyes.
"Thanks for taking her side," Janine muttered at Dylan. He went red in the face.
"Well, I'm going to go shower," Lisa announced, bounding up the stairs. "I'll try not to come walking out naked."
The mental image of her dripping wet and naked crossed Dylan's mind instantly, unbidden. He masked it before Janine could read it on his face, but he wasn't sure Lisa had missed it. She leaned over the balcony railing at the top.
"Nice to meet you, Dylan!" She called down. "Hey Janine! Nice choice!"
Dylan couldn't help it. He was just a man -- a boy, really, 21 years old. And from that moment on, he had a thing for Lisa. He kept imagining her narrow hips and what it must feel like to stick his penis between them... it must be really tight in there, he thought, and she'd feel like a stuffed chair.
And there was something else thrown into the hormonal mix. Lisa was adopted. She arrived as a toddler 16 years ago from Korea. Not only did that mean that, deep down, Lisa wouldn't have anything against screwing over her sister, but it meant that she already had a good thing going in Dylan's mind. He had what some would call an Asian fetish. He found their dark features, toned skin, sloped eyes, and marvelous feet simply beautiful.
Janine was aware of this tendency of his. She'd once discovered a stack of his Asian porn. So later, as they sat on the couch watching a movie at her parents' house, she turned to him.
"So what do you think of Lisa?" She said, her voice dripping with suspicion. She could ask about her freely, as Lisa was off at a friend's house. Her parents were upstairs asleep.
"Huh? Lisa?" Dylan said. "She seems nice. Why?"
"Oh, what do you mean, why," Janine scolded. "I know she's cute. I know you've got a thing for Asian chicks. Just don't go getting any ideas!"
She smiled when she said it, but Dylan knew she was only half-kidding. So he leaned over to kiss her and disarm her fears.
"Baby," he said, "yes, you know about my thing for Asians, but how is that any different than when guys have a thing for blondes, or brunettes? It's only a first-impression thing. It's what's inside the girl that counts."
Janine smiled. She wanted to be convinced. She rewarded him by slipping her hand down his shorts, and in a few minutes, his cock was inside her, rubbing away.
The front door opened, and Dylan leaped off Janine. They hastily hauled the blanket over themselves. Fortunately, they had been naked only from the waist down.
Lisa walked in, wearing another skimpy sports outfit. She dropped her gym bag to the floor and took a sip from a water bottle. Her shorts were so short they revealed how her slim thighs curved back toward her groin. In the rear, Dylan could see the very beginnings of her buttocks before the thin material got in the way. His wet erection raged on.
"Oh! Sorry!" Lisa said, smiling at the two of them. "Did I interrupt something?"
"No, not at all," Dylan managed. "We were just watching Pretty in Pink."
"Breakfast Club," Lisa corrected.
"Yeah," Dylan said. "That's what I meant."
Lisa laughed. Janine nudged him. He looked down and saw the enormous tent his cock was forming in the blanket. He shifted his weight and covered it with a pile of blanket, only to reveal a butt cheek to Lisa. He was about to cover it, but he saw Lisa's eyes dart to the skin, and, on impulse, he pretended he didn't realize it was showing. Lisa's eyes kept darting back to it. Dylan shifted and revealed a little bit more of his muscled thigh. Lisa bit her lip, then tore her eyes away.
"Well, I've seen that one already, so carry on watching your movie or whatever," Lisa said. "Will I see you tomorrow, Dylan?"
"Um, no," he said. "I'm leaving early. 6 a.m."
"Oh, then I'll see you," Lisa said. "I'm getting up early to run."
"You never run in the morning!" Janine cried.
"Well, it's a new thing the coach wants us to do," Lisa said, and bounded away.
Janine tsked. "Getting up early my ass," she said. "She's got a schoolgirl crush on you, that's all. Isn't it obvious?"
"Ahh," Dylan said. "It takes more than a schoolgirl to handle what I'm going to do to you..."
Dylan mounted Janine again. As her thighs parted for him, he imagined she was Lisa. His great, pulsing orgasm was unlike any before it.
In the morning, Lisa emerged at the breakfast table, bleary and groggy. When Dylan left, she was waving at the window next to Janine.
*** ***
Dylan's relationship with Janine flourished during the fall. About twice a month, they'd go to her house so she could see her family -- she was homesick, being a freshman -- and Dylan didn't complain. Lisa never failed to ring his bell. Every time he saw her, she had some lapdog high school boy following her around, but Dylan never got the impression she was serious about any of them.
On the contrary, she enjoyed talking to Dylan about his classes and college life and sports, as those were things they were both interested in. They talked for hours. Sometimes it got so it pissed off Janine, particularly if she was waiting to go out with him. She began making snippish comments about Lisa behind her back, as if she sensed a growing threat to her relationship with Dylan. He found himself reassuring her more than once, and he made conscious efforts to appear nonchalant around Lisa.
Of course, that meant when he was alone with Lisa -- when Janine was in the shower, or running some errand -- they acted like the dam had burst, although their mutual attraction went unsaid for a long time. But Dylan laughed a little easier, made more jokes, let his gaze linger a little longer on her. Hell, once they even got into a wrestling match for the remote control. Janine had run out for some orange juice when it happened. She'd left when Dylan was still asleep in the basement. He came up, and, by chance, Lisa came down as soon as Janine left. Thus, when they wrestled, they were both in their pajamas. As he grabbed for the remote, both of them giggling, he accidentally grabbed a breast.
He thought about that morning for a long time. Because when he touched Lisa's breast, she got a look in her eye, and the next thing he knew, she'd driven a thigh into his cock and ground it back and forth, feeling it roll against her leg. If Janine hadn't come home at that instant, well, she might have come home five minutes later and found a very different scene than the two of them sitting there watching TV quietly, slightly mussed. But they never talked about it.
Slowly, Lisa claimed her territory with Dylan. He allowed it to happen, too. One day, his pullover went missing. He puzzled over it for a few weeks until one day at Janine's house, he saw Lisa come out wearing it.
"Oh!" Lisa said, and clapped a hand to her mouth. "I forgot! You left this here one day, and you know how much I like it, so I was bringing it to school because it gets so cold."
"Oh," Dylan said, "well, if you want to keep--"
"Give it back to him, you little thief!" Janine cried, her face red. Lisa and Dylan looked at her, jaws open.
"Fine," Lisa muttered, pulling it off -- and revealing a nice shot of her flat belly in the process -- and tossing it to Dylan. He took an impulsive breath, smelling her sweet smell. Then Lisa whirled around and stalked upstairs.
"What was that all about?" Dylan said. "She just liked it."
"She liked it because it's yours," Janine hissed. "I swear, you are so blind sometimes."
But Dylan wasn't blind. He knew he was hurtling along a path that might someday land him on the set of Jerry Springer. Later, he'd find a strand of Lisa's thick black hair on the collar, and he'd eye it as he ran it between his fingers. He continued it absently even as Lisa came into the kitchen to get some water. She looked at him oddly, and he remembered what he was doing. He cast the hair aside.She gave him a sideways look and a little grin and walked back upstairs.
In November, Lisa turned 18. He happened to be at the house for the family party, and to everyone's surprise, he dug out a little present for her. Lisa lit up like a GE bulb when he handed it to her. Janine snorted. Dylan shrugged innocently.
"Oh, Dylan, it's so pretty!" Lisa cried, holding up a chain necklace. It had a set of little wide-eyed beads hanging onto it. Janine's eyes went wide, as did her parents' eyes, so Dylan hastily explained.
"Well, you said you always liked Indian art, and I was at a little roadside stop--"
"A flea market," Janine said.
"Shut up, Janine!" Lisa said.
"Anyway," Dylan said, "I saw this old Indian lady selling stuff. Those beads are supposed to symbolize good luck. The more you collect, the more luck you'll have. I figured you'd need it, applying to schools and all."
"Oh, it's wonderful!" Lisa cooed, and came over and kissed him on the cheek.
"It's nothing..." Dylan muttered. "Just something I saw..."
Lisa put it on and went to the mirror. Janine shot daggers at Dylan with her eyes. Her mother busied herself with cleaning up, and her father tried not to smile. But Lisa was quite pleased.
"You just wait until your birthday," she said. "Or Christmas! Yes, Christmas. I'll repay you then."
"You don't have to," Dylan said. "Really."
"No, I insist," she said. "Thanks again." She delivered another kiss on his cheek.
"Alright, that's enough," Janine hissed. "Open my present, will you? I actually bought it new, and not at some junk shop."
Later, Dylan and Janine drove to the movies in silence in her parents' van.
"Everything okay?" Dylan said.
"You KNOW she has a crush on you, and you go and buy her this necklace anyway," Janine burst. "Now she's going to wear it all over like a, like a TROPHY, and I'm going to have to live with it!"
"Jeez, Janine," he said. "Cool it, would you? I want to be on good terms with your family. It makes me feel closer to you. Relax. Her little crush will go away before you know it."
She looked at him. "She's very persistent, you know. Don't get yourself in any compromising situation. You're just a man."
Dylan laughed. He thought about the wrestling incident. Best he keep that one quiet. He leaned over to Janine, and she didn't back away. They kissed.
"I've got all I can handle with you," he said. She smiled. In the theater, her hand found its way down his fly, and when her father asked later about the show, for the life of him, he couldn't remember what they saw.
Christmas break came. Dylan planned to spend a couple of nights at Janine's parents' house before heading north to home, but a nasty series of snowstorms swooped in just as Dylan got ready to go and nixed the plans. Day after day he waited, but the weather system just wouldn't quit, and suddenly it was Christmas Eve. To his mother's bitter disappointment, he would spend the holiday at Janine's house.
The odd holiday didn't stop there. Janine, procrastinating as usual, waited until Christmas Eve before she went out to get his present. She wanted to go alone so she could surprise him with his gift, but it was getting late and a storm was brewing, so her parents insisted on going with her. It meant they could finish picking up stocking stuffers. It also meant Dylan would be home a couple of hours alone with Lisa.
They prepared some drinks and sat in front of the blinking Christmas tree to watch 'A Christmas Story' as the marathon started on TNT. It had been a while since they had talked much, with finals and all. Plus, ever since Lisa's birthday, Janine had been finding one reason or another to keep them apart. So when they sat down on the big, L-shaped couch next to each other, there was energy in the air as they finally had some time to catch up -- alone. Dylan felt a little guilty for feeling that way, but there it was. Some things happened whether you decided it or not.
"So," Lisa said, "are you and my sister doing well?"
"Oh, yes, we are," Dylan said. "We've been dating for six months now."
"What do you like about her? Honestly, I wonder sometimes," she said.
"Oh, she's very smart and funny," Dylan said. "Charming. You know, we've been together long enough now that it's hard to put a label on it."
"Ohhh, that's bad," Lisa said. "Don't let her hear you say that. Way too general. You should have specifics in mind."
"Specifics?"
"Yeah, specifics," she said. "Like you like Detroit's offense because 'Sheed can either post up or back out and shoot the three. That's a specific."
"Yeah, well, this isn't basketball," he said.
"So? It's the same idea."
"I see," he said. "Well, I think I got specific enough."
"Hm," she said. "I give you guys another three months, maybe. You don't have enough in common. You're not enthralled enough with her."
"Enthralled?"
"Do you check out other girls? Don't lie."
"Well, uh..." He said. Dylan didn't know how to tell her that he pretty much thought about her 90 percent of the time he was thinking about girls, period.
"I said, don't lie. I know you check out other girls," Lisa said, casting him a wink.
"So what do you like about what's-his-name who was here earlier tonight?" Dylan said, changing the subject. "I want specifics."
"Greg? Ha. Good question. He's too shallow, like every other guy my age. I think I like older guys."
"Older?"
"Yeah. So here's a specific for you. What I like about Dylan. You like reading. So do I. You like basketball and running. So do I. You're a bit older than me, and you help me keep perspective on stuff. Your hair looks all silly and mussed in the morning, and I think it's really cute. The list goes on, but you get the idea," she said. "You've got to have a lot in common with someone to be enthralled with them. You and my sister don't."
"Hey, now--"
"If you were totally in love with my sister, you wouldn't check me out like you do," she said.
He blinked. "What are you--"
"Come on," she said. "Drop the act. We're not as dumb as you think we are. And I know you know about my crush on you."
Dylan let the act drop a bit, and he looked at her with a smile. "A crush? What is this, junior high?"
"Yeah, well, it started as a crush," Lisa said. "Now that we've been dating for a while, it's something more."
"Did you just say we've been dating for a while?"
"No."
"Yes you did."
"I said, 'Now that you and Janine have been dating...'" Her voice trailed off as she realized what she had indeed said. Her face blushed.
"No! That's okay," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Look, sometimes..."
"Sometimes what?"
"Sometimes... well, I can see how that might slip out," he said. "A kind of Freudian thing?"
She nodded. "Sometimes I feel like, well, we're dating. Isn't that weird? I mean, it's like a long-distance thing. Like it must have been in the old days. We exchange email -- do you tell Janine about that? I don't -- and we see each other every couple of weeks, all our visits are chaperoned--"
"And when we get time together," Dylan said, "and alone--"
"Things get... interesting," she said.
Dylan looked around. "Jeez, thank God that Janine isn't here to hear this. I don't know, Lisa, maybe--"
"Shhh," she said, smiling at him. "This is a nice moment. Tell me what you like about me. Specifics. Come on. It's just the two of us. This is innocent."
Dylan looked at her. "Okay," he said, finally. "I like how you stretch every morning when you come to the bottom of the stairs."
"How I stretch?" She said, laughing.
"Yeah," he said. "It's cute. Like a cat. And you show your belly button. Love that. And you let out a little grunt, and your toes arch in the air."
"Okay, you like how I stretch," she said, smiling happily. "Anything else?"
"Of course. I like how you swing your arms behind you as you walk, kind of leaning forward, like. I like your hair when it's up. I love seeing you run. You've got great form. I like how your eyebrows kind of curl up when you're studying. I like how you come stumbling down to the kitchen in the middle of the night looking for popsicles--"
"Don't think I'm as out of it as I look," she said, with a laugh. "I know what you and Janine are up to sometimes."
"Yeah, anyway, I like your views on Shakespeare. I like the books you read. I like how you pause and stick your butt out before you shoot a free throw. I like your sense of humor, how you're the only woman I've met who thinks Mitch Hedberg was funny. I like--"
"Oh, Dylan," she said, dreamily, and leaned toward him. The phone rang, startling them both. She bounded up and ran for the receiver. He let out a breath, clearing his head. Dylan suddenly noticed how much the wind had picked up. He looked outside and realized he couldn't see the streetlights down the street.
"Really? Oh wow," he heard Lisa saying. "Can you make it?... Oh, really? Really?... okay, yeah, okay... We'll be fine. Power is on.... Sure, here he is."
She walked the phone over to Dylan, smiling broadly as she did so. She let her fingers brush his as he took it. He held the phone to his ear. It was Janine.
"We're stuck by the storm," she said. "The police have blocked the interstate, which means we'll have to stay at a hotel tonight. You can stay in my room."
"Okay, babe," he said. "Wow, some Christmas, huh?"
"I'm so mad," she said. "I wanted to spend the morning with you. I have your gift and everything!"
"Well, get back in the morning and we'll just do it a little later."
"I feel bad for you too," she said. "I feel like your Christmas is ruined."
He looked over at Lisa, sitting on the couch. She smiled at him.
"It's fine.""I'm having a nice time at your home," he said. "Don't worry about that."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Have a nice night," she said. "Don't stay up too late watching movies with Lisa."
"Oh, we won't," he said, with a laugh.
"Better not."
They said goodbye, and he hung up. He looked back at Lisa. Lord, he thought, she is gorgeous. Her arms and legs were hard and slim; her feet were wondrous little creations. Her jaw molded perfectly with her long neck, her eyes were sloped but wide, her nose a button... He sat down.
"Stuck by the storm," he said.
"I know. So I guess it's just you and me for Christmas, huh?"
"That's trouble."
Lisa laughed and slapped his knee. She let her hand linger, and the hormones that the phone drove off came roaring back in a flood.
"Yes," she said, picking up where they left off, "we're almost dating. Except..."
"Except?"
"Except I don't have a Christmas gift for you," she said. "I'm so sorry. I told you I would, didn't I? And I was going to go out with Lisa tonight and get it for you, but when I heard my parents were going with her, well, I thought about having you alone, and... and I thought it would be nicer if we... could do this instead."
He smiled. "Just a minute," he said. Dylan went downstairs and got a small wrapped box out of his bag. He brought it back and gave it to Lisa.
"Oh, you," she said. "If Janine saw this..."
"But she won't!" Dylan said. "No way I would have given this to you like this if she was here. She'd kill me. I was going to leave it in your room. But now I can explain it."
She untied the bow and opened it. It was a bracelet, from the same old woman. Lisa let out a little squeal and hugged him.
"It's so pretty!" She said, slipping her hand through the opening. It settled nicely on her slim wrist. "What does this one mean?"
"Well, there's two meanings," he said. "One is in case Janine is around, and that's that you'll have more luck."
"What's the other meaning?"
"Yeah, that's the true meaning, in case Janine isn't around. It's love. I... I wasn't going to tell you that. I was just going to let you have it and keep it to myself. But it seems... right to tell."
"Dylan," she said, and leaned forward. This time the phone didn't ring, and he kissed her forehead, then her cheekbone, then, lightly, their lips touched. Hers were firm and wet. They looked into each other's eyes for a second, then kissed again, deeper. In a moment their tongues were dashing about each other's mouths.
"Very nice," she mumbled. "I had wondered..." She arched her head back, and he nibbled at her ear, and ran his lips along the curves of her neck. She let out a little gasp as he hit an erogenous zone.
"Whew," she said. "Wow, so you college guys do move fast, huh?"
"Well," Dylan said, between kisses, "we've been dating now... for a few months... right?"
She laughed and pulled his face up to hers. They kissed. Her hair got in his face, and he breathed in her smells. It triggered other things in him, which all cascaded down to his cock. Despite his better judgment, his penis began to lurch to life.
He kissed at her collarbone. She clutched his head, and he began to kiss at her chest through her sweatshirt.
"Wait!" She said, and he fell back.
"Sorry, sorry," he said. "I got carried away. I should've--"
"No, you don't understand," she said, getting up. "Mr. Thomes, our dad's friend, he can see right into the living room," she said. Lisa ran to the shades of the long window and pulled them down, giving them privacy.
"Janine and I call those the make-out shades," she said.
"Really?" He said. "She and I must have, well, he must have had quite a show some nights. She never drew them down."
"He's gone on weekends," Lisa said, killing the lights so that they were basked in the gentle lights of the Christmas tree. Presents spread out under the branches.
"You're quite knowledgeable about the make-out situation," Dylan said, with a smile.
"I've gotten to first a few times," she said.
"I'll bet."
She pulled off her sweatshirt, revealing her smooth torso, wrapped in a sports bra. "And I've reached second a few times, too."
Dylan put his hands on her warm waist and pulled her down to him again, kissing her lips, her neck, her collarbone, her sternum, and to her delight, her little breasts, through the spandex bra.
"You like them?" She said. "I know they're not huge, but--"
"They're perfect," he said, feeling them squish under his lips. He felt her nipples poking through the material, and he kissed at them. She let out a cute little moan.
Dylan felt a little tugging at his shirt, and he looked down to see her fingers unbuttoning his shirt. In a moment, she thrust it off his shoulders, revealing his white tee shirt. She ran a hand along his wide chest, then tugged at the bottom.
"It's only fair," she said. He smiled and pulled off his shirt with a jerk. She ran her fingertips along his bare chest and abdominals.
"Wow," she said. "You've got a six-pack!"
For an instant, he thought of how his stomach always ached after fucking Janine, and he realized that his abs allowed him to thrust his penis with considerable force. He hoped the physics occurred to Lisa, and he flexed his stomach. She smiled at him devilishly, then lowered down and kissed his chest, and ran a tongue along his abs. The sensation made him moan.
"You like that, do you?" She said.
"You know what else I'd like?"
"Hmm?"
"I'd like to see you in that little spandex outfit you were in when I first met you."
She looked at him and grinned. She got up and ran upstairs. He heard her bumping around, and he turned off the television. He needed all his faculties for this. He wasn't sure how far she wanted to go, but he wanted it to be as far as possible. Outside, the wind howled and shook the house.
Lisa came back in the room wrapped in one of those fuzzy blankets that felt so soft. It was a sky blue. She stood in front of the couch, twirled once, and then cast the blanket aside, revealing herself in the spandex outfit. In the dim room, it almost looked like she was naked. Dylan's cock shivered. He whistled.
"Beautiful," he said. She gave a little hop and came over to him. She knelt on the floor in front of him and untied his sweat pants.
"I only want what's fair," she said. "You saw me in my underwear, I want to see you in yours."
"Lisa, I don't know--"
"Come on," she said.
"Look," he said. "You might see... I'm in my briefs, you'll see a lot..."
She tilted her head and bit her lip. "Oh, really now?" She tugged at his waistband, firmly, and he arched his hips so she could pull it off.
"Now stand up," she said, hopping on the couch, "And let me look at you."
He did, awkwardly aware of the semi-uncoiled shaft bulging underneath his underwear. She bit her lip as she looked him up and down. Her dark eyes lingered on the front of his underwear. Her legs were folded, and he could see the flat bit of material that concealed her pussy. It might have been a shadow, but he thought he saw a bit of wetness there.
"Dylan," she said, her voice shaking a bit, uncertain and nervous. "Can you come here?"
He did. She took him in her arms, and they kissed for a moment, their bare bodies pressing together.
"I've never... I never... went beyond this point with anyone," she said into his ear. "But I feel like we just got started."
"We don't have to rush anything," he assured her, despite the unwinding snake in his drawers.
"On the other hand," she said, pressing her hands into his shoulders and chest and side, then wrapping them around his back, "how often do we get a chance like THIS?"
"All these forces of nature have aligned to allow it," he said, and they smiled, and kissed. Dylan knew it was a rare opportunity, perhaps a once-only chance. Even if he, say, broke up with Janine, there would be no decent way to continue a relationship with Lisa without a great amount of stress to everyone. This was the way things had to be, until she went to college or something, which was months and months away...
"Dylan," she said. "Can you kiss my breasts again?"
"Of course--"
"Except," she said, grabbing at the bottom edge of the sports bra, "with this off?"
She pulled the sports bra off over her head, her hair flowing back down to her shoulders, and revealed her breasts. They were small, perhaps an inch or two deep at their thickest, but he loved them. He put a hand on her spine and pulled her close, and took her right breast in his mouth. He rolled his tongue around her nipple, plump from the sensation. She dug her hands in his scalp as he kissed and licked. After a moment, he switched breasts.
"Oh, Dylan," she murmured, and, in accommodating him, unfolded a leg and rested it, hamstring to his thigh, across his leg. He ran a hand up her smooth skin, stopping at her spandex, feeling he needed permission with the virginal young woman to go further.
"Can you squeeze my ass?" She said, her eyes shut tight as he still kissed her breasts. He nodded and brought a hand around and grasped her compact, firm little ass. It was then he considered their size difference. He was 6'1; she was roughly 5'3. Would that be a problem? He'd just have to see. First things first...
She unfolded the other leg and squeezed it between his torso and the cushion, effectively straddling him, though they were still sitting up. Being in the position of being straddled by a teenager -- barely legal -- sent a lurch through Dylan's stomach, and he kissed her more vigorously. She moaned and rubbed her hands amorously over his back.
"Oh Dylan," she whimpered, "...waited so long for this..."
"I know, baby, I know," he said."Me too."
"Why didn't you..."
"Circumstances weren't right..." he said.
"Dylan," she said.
He looked up from lapping her breast. She had that look in her eye, that devilish, cocky kind of look.
"I've never... touched a man," she said. "I don't know if I can do it well, but can I... try it?"
He nodded, the thought making his lips part. With one hand on his shoulder, her other hand went to his hard thigh, then inched up, to the edge of his briefs, then over the boundary, until it finally rested on his penis, separated from her fingers by the thin layer of cotton. His cock ached, held in a curled ball by the fabric and his thigh. She ran a hand tentatively over the organ.
'Wow," she whispered. "So lovely."
Outside the wind howled and blew. The house shook, but the power held, and the Christmas tree continued its blinking on their near-naked forms. If anyone were to look inside now, as Mr. Thomes was trying to do, they'd see a topless Asian teenager, her legs on either side of a good-looking white college kid, and they'd see her rubbing her hand slowly between his legs.
Dylan moaned as her fingers, bolder now, hooked under his shaft and pulled up, releasing the tension a bit as the penis now pointed to the side and expanded in that direction.
"Oh, it's moving!" She said.
"It's growing..."
"I never, I mean, I heard of it... I never saw it..." She said, her eyes wide.
"That's what happens."
"Can I see it? I mean, can I see it naked?" She said.
Dylan didn't answer. He just rose on his knees and pulled his briefs down. Lisa brought her hands to her mouth as his penis flopped out. He finished removing the underwear and tossed them onto the carpet.
'Can I... touch it?" She said. He nodded. Lisa reached forward slowly. Dylan didn't rush her. Her fingertips touched it, then she wrapped her fingers around it. The penis swelled and stiffened beneath her touch. She put her other hand on his hip as an anchor and began to pull at it slowly.
"Wow," she kept saying. "Wow. Wonderful. Just wonderful."
Hilt to the tip of its head, Dylan's cock stretched 7 inches fully erect. Lisa cradled it in her hand, stroking it, feeling Dylan's heavy breath on her shoulder as they were pressed cheek to cheek.
"I don't know what to do next," she said.
"We gotta do what's fair, right?" He said, smiling through the haze.
Lisa smiled. He wondered if she'd finally draw the line, but instead she laid back, arched her hips and pulled her spandex bottoms down. Dylan saw that she was naked underneath. As he helped her out of the garment he saw that the crotch was wet, and then he saw her slit gleaming with moisture. They resumed their straddle after he'd tossed her bottoms to the floor.
"Now we're both naked," she said. He looked at her questioningly, and she took his hand. "Touch me," she said, and he knew what she meant. His hand dropped to her furry mound, then slipped over the crest. His fingers were soaked in her juices instantly. She cried out as he found her clit. He rubbed it, wanting to see how far this teen could go. Her hands clenched against his skin and she moaned into his ear. Suddenly her right hand flew down to his cock and squeezed it, then began to stroke, matching his strokes.
But she was further along, thank goodness, he'd think later. Her thighs clamped on his hand and she shuddered all up and down her body, crying out his name. His hand was completely soaked with her.
"Oh Dylan," she moaned. "Oh Dylan, oh Dylan... what... where...?"
"That was an orgasm," he said, and kissed her slack face.
"I've never... wow... I can't BELIEVE it... it felt INCREDIBLE..."
He kissed her again. "Nice, isn't it?" He said. "The weird thing is I feel nice when you feel nice."
"Really?" She said, her hand dropping to his penis again. She pulled at it a few times, but then she got up. She picked up the blanket and spread it out on the floor, next to the presents. "Get up," she said.
He did, and she took his hand as she laid down on top of the blanket. She had that look in her eye again, only more intense, more experienced.
"I wanna see what it's like to have an orgasm together," she said. "To have the very things that are orgasm-ing making each other orgasm."
Dylan smiled. "I never heard it put that way before--"
"Lay on top of me" she said.
"Lisa," he said. "I don't have any--"
"Never mind," she said. "I'm not a dummy. I've done reading. I can't get pregnant now. Come here and get your tight little Christmas present."
"Oh, Lisa, oh, wow," he said, and planted his knees at her feet. Her thighs parted before him. She grabbed him by his penis and pulled him to her. He planted his hands on either side of her and lowered down to kiss, their chests pressing. He still had his hips arched so they weren't touching yet down there.
"Are you sure?" He said.
She bit a lip and nodded. "Just be careful... I haven't..."
"I know," he said, unable to resist her pheromones any longer. He lowered his penis onto her mound. She closed her eyes, bit her lips, and clutched his shoulders as he probed around with his penis. He let her know exactly where he was, slapping first at her thighs, then groin, then brushing her mound with the head of his cock. Then he pressed it against her clit. She cried out.
"Are you in?"
"Not yet," he said, finding the angle. "Almost..."
He steadied his swaying cock and pushed it into her folds. Lisa felt a growing swelling between her hips.
"Oh Dylan," she said, "I don't know... can it fit?"
"It'll fit..."
She cried out as suddenly a sharp pain erupted. Dylan stopped moving for a second.
"Easy," he said. "I just... breached you. You're a virgin. It hurts at first."
"Okay," she said, nodding, remembering the reading material. "Keep going."
Slowly Dylan restarted, and she felt a hot stiffness inside her probing around. At first it was kind of amazing, almost scientific, but then it began to feel good, and she began to rock her hips into his. He sensed her change and his enthusiasm grew.
"Oh Lisa," he moaned. "We're doing it, babe, we're doing it..."
"Yay, oh yay!" She said, managing a smile through her face-wrenching pleasure. "I'm getting.... fucked... by my sister's boyfriend!"
And she was. He looked down at her body as he surged into her, and her hands had dropped, palms up, on the blanket. Her little breasts jutted in the air, brushing his chest, and their bellies pressed together, both firm and well-muscled, allowing significant thrusts. Her thighs formed a skin 'V' with him in the middle.
"Oh, yes, Dylan, yes... mmm...mmm...mmm..." Lisa moaned, as his swollen penis rubbed inside her virgin pussy. He clasped a hand around her ass, felt her narrow hips, and he realized how much of her he was filling with his cock. It was a wonder really that he fit at all... she must be stretched like a balloon... but by the sounds of it she was having a good time....
"Ohhh YES! Ohhh YES! Ohhh YEAH!" The teen cried, her head whipping back and forth. The phone began to ring.
"No! NO!" Lisa growled, grabbing his flexing ass. "Let it ring! Let it ... mmMM... RING!"
After four rings the answering machine came on.
"Hello?" It was Janine. "Hello? Are you there? Answer the phoooone... Helloooo..."
"Little does she know..." Lisa said, "that you can't answer.... because your cock... is presently stuck ... inside her SISTER... ohhh OH! YES!"
"Oh she knows," Dylan said, watching his wet shaft pry into her pussy in long, hard strokes. "She knows, alright, she knows..."
"Let her KNOW," Lisa hissed, almost incoherent now with screaming pleasure. "Let her fucking KNOW that I FUCKED her BOYFRIEND all NIGHT!"
Dylan's rock-hard abs flexed as he drove his penis again and again into Lisa's tight pussy. He was doing it with such force now that her head was being driven into the presents. It didn't stop until she reached out a hand and braced herself against the fireplace, stopping her body from sliding any further. So that was where it would happen. Right under the Christmas tree.
She grabbed his ass to ensure that his cock was wedged inside her as deep as possible. He rocked his hips into her, his balls slapping against her ass as his rod probed down her throbbing vagina.
"How's this... for a PRESENT... ohhh OH! OHHHhhhh!" Lisa moaned.
"Oh Lisa," he said, simply. "Oh Lisa."
"Yeah?" She said, her tone changed. She felt the difference too. Something was happening. Her eyes opened and she fixed her gaze intensely on his face.
"Oh Lisa."
'Come on, baby," she said.
His penis seemed to stretch and swell for that last little effort. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers to kiss, but they only cried into each other's mouths as they reached their orgasms together. His cock clenched and unclenched, throbbing firmly against her quaking pussy, and ejaculated long bursts of hot cum deep inside her.
After a few minutes of moaning in each other's sweaty arms, he withdrew, his long dick coming out with a slurp. Semen spilled onto the blanket. She wiped some up with her fingertips and ran it along her belly. The phone started to ring again. They looked at each other and laughed.
Dylan and Lisa would carry on their love affair secretly for the next couple of months, screwing in the back of the car when they ran an errand together or meeting late at night in the basement, but then suddenly Janine dropped out of school and Lisa told him it was best if they don't see each other anymore. He was confused and heartbroken but he moved on.
Even when he was a middle-aged man with six kids, however, Dylan would always remember that night before Christmas.Every orgasm after that was second-rate. Every single one. He always wondered if Lisa felt the same way. Then one day he had his chance to find out.
He was in town vacationing with his family over Christmas. They were downtown along the wreath-decorated streets when suddenly he saw Lisa, four kids of her own in tow. She looked great, dressed smartly and pretty as before, albeit 20 years older. She had her husband, another Korean-American, with her.
Lisa laughed when she saw him and hugged him hello, demonstrating that same cheerful spirit she apparently hadn't lost since he met her.
"This is Dean, an old friend from college," Lisa said to her husband, and Dylan's spirits fell. She didn't even recognize him.
"No, Lisa," he choked. "Remember, it's--"
But she cut him off with a firm kick that her husband fortunately did not see. He was confused, but then he realized what had happened. For some reason she didn't want her husband to know who he was.
They chit-chatted for a few minutes. They exchanged email addresses. Then Dylan's eyes wandered over her kids. They ranged in age from 8 to 13. Suddenly a young man came out of the store.
"Mom!" He called. At first Dylan thought he was talking to someone else, but then Lisa smiled and waved the man over. She was breathing lightly, Dylan saw. The young man looked different than the others. He was Asian, but different. Then he realized he was half Asian, half white. He was Dylan's height.
"This is James Dylan," Lisa said, her eyes gleaming. "He's a sophomore at state this year."
Dylan reached out and shook the young man's hand.
"What's the matter, daddy?" Said his daughter, Patricia.
"Oh, just the Christmas spirit, I guess," Dylan said, and wiped away a tear. Lisa bowed her head. There was much to catch up on, apparently. He held the young man's hand for a second before letting it go. Of course Lisa couldn't mention his real name to her husband. Then he'd know. Then he'd never learn more about this young man. The son he didn't know he had.
Dylan's phone began to ring in his pocket. He peeped at it for a second before shoving it back in his pocket to talk to Lisa some more. It was his wife.
"Let it ring," Dylan said. Lisa bit her lip. | null | null | Authors/breaking_point/Twat the night before Christmas!.txt |
90,780 | Dances In Clouds | The Office Meeting | You've been flirting with me all day. You sat across from me in the meeting today. Making sure I catch you watching my crotch as I try to hide my bored look... I wore the slacks today that you like. The ones that are probably a bit too tight across the ass...
And you knew my cock twitched when I saw you looking. Between staring at my eyes and my crotch, your interest was being telegraphed.
I made sure you noticed the tip of my tongue at the corner of my mouth, just barely visible... Kinda like I was imagining your clit... A mix of suggestion of anatomy and of tasting...
I saw you flex your hips forward slightly while the presenter droned on, and you showed me that little wet spot that was starting to form.
I watched you set the folder on your lap in just the right way to look like you were holding it open on your knees, but I saw your finger running along the middle of the seam of your pants. You watched me watch you...
I saw your eyes squint in the middle the way pleasure moves one's cheeks up and eyelids down, ever so slightly...
And you turned so red when you realized that you'd been asked a question...
You recovered easily, though. Being an expert allows that. Soon you were back at it. Enjoying watching the slight bulge where there had been flat cloth across my lap...
One little piece of my brain tracked the speaker while the rest focused on how I wished that wet spot was firmly moistening my balls...
I watched the hairs on your arm stand erect as a chill gave you goosebumps when the A/C kicked on. And the energy of that moved your hips forward again...
That little wet spot was clearly more of an absorbed puddle now, the distance in your eye reflecting the fantasy you were both making up and living... You moved the folder on your lap (a ring binder, really) so that the bottom ring release was over your clit, and I watched your hands move to the top of the binder and pull it against your hunched-forward clit, your nostrils flaring slightly at the pleasure you let me watch you feel.
The 2-minute break for pee breaks and coffee refills arrived unexpectedly, and we both rushed to our respective restrooms. You got back first and were back in your seat before I returned. I'd had a time stuffing my tool back into its hiding place -- which made me late.
I opened my folder and found in it an extra sheet, a copy of another sheet I had. Penciled in at the top were the words "Sniff Here." I did so by using the edge of the folder to scratch my nose...
What I inhaled gave me a head rush. Now I knew at least one thing you'd done on the break. The smell of aroused pussy immediately caused a return of the bulge you'd been appreciating earlier...
Now it was my turn to push the folder into my lap and push my rock-hard cock into it just to feel the pleasure. Only you noticed.
I saw you mouth two words to me once that far away look had left my own eyes: "I came."
I mouthed back: "Follow me!"
A break happened none too soon...the presenter apparently reached the end of his bladder limit and invited us to take a breather.
I stood and sauntered down the hallway, you following at an inconspicuous distance. You saw me turn into an office and close the door.
A few seconds later, after making sure nobody was watching, you opened the same door, walking into a dimly-lit room.
I was standing behind the door, and as soon as the door closed, I put a hand over your mouth, whispering in your ear "Be quiet: the next office is the boss's!"
When you nodded, I quickly reached for the opening of your pants, and had them heading toward your ankles before you had taken a good breath.
Your sandals came off as you stepped from each pant leg.
I pulled your shirt over your head with your bra still in it. The cool air hardened your nipples obviously, in the dim light.
I was smelling more of what the paper had hinted to...
As fast as I'd removed your clothes, I had mine off. I sat down on an armless chair and guided you onto my lap, facing me, straddling my vertical cock.
I put your hands on my shoulders, then reached down with both my hands, pulling your labia apart and guiding my cock head into the entrance to your pussy...
Your legs relaxed and in one smooth motion I was buried.
You bent down to my lips and outlined them with your tongue as you started moving your body up and down with your legs...
My hands were on your hips guiding your movements, and your breasts were rubbing my nipples.
Between the risk of being caught, the extremely erotic foreplay, and the hot wetness around my cock, I sensed that there would soon be a flood between your legs...
Not wanting to cum quite yet, I lifted you from my cock, stood up, and quietly commanded you to your knees, leaning over the chair...
My still-slippery cock wasted no time in taking your pussy from behind, and not gently.
The amount of concern for being caught was becoming secondary to an overpowering desire to fuck you silly. Harder and harder I slammed into you, rubbing your G-spot with that most sensitive part of my own tool...
I felt sweat on my scalp, and your hips were becoming moist in my hands...
The undercurrent of pleasure was becoming the all-encompassing bath of ecstasy as I felt my entire reproductive tract kick into high gear, cum boiling from deep inside and rushing from its source down the passage of my cock... The friction of your walls was replaced by the heat and slipperiness of my own cum filling you.
The screaming in my mind of abject pleasure failed to drown out your own muffled sounds...
The battle between not being caught and experiencing the pleasure was in full swing, and the internal dissonance allowed out soft grunts that were in time with your slamming back against my body...
Finally, as I felt the last of my cum winding its way into you, I realized that your body had stopped at the most rearward position and you were holding your pussy and ass against me, our mutual sweatiness unmistakable. I noticed feeling your asshole spread against my belly, twitching with spasms of ending orgasm echoing my own...
We realized about that time that we were probably late back from break. I helped you stand up and we redressed ourselves as quickly as we could...
The light striking our faces as we walked back into the hallway revealed each to the other our flushed, moist faces.
You excused yourself to check your makeup while I took my seat...
I sat there, completely ignoring the presenter while I watched you sit down gingerly and saw that the moist spot was now a few inches down your left thigh as well. You caught me appreciating my handiwork, and winked. | null | null | Authors/Dances_in_Clouds/The Office Meeting.txt |
90,793 | Ian321 | Ongoing | Your curvaceous body lies naked in our darkened bedroom, and as you hear my footsteps on the stairs, you slowly writhe against the handcuffs with which I secured you earlier. Your pussy starts to moisten in anticipation of the pleasure (and maybe pain) that you know is now to come.
As I walk through the door, you whisper gently, "Please be rough with me tonight."
This whispered request is only just audible over the low buzzing of the vibrator that has been keeping you tormented and on the edge of orgasm for the achingly long hour that I have left you alone. The scent of your pussy juices alone is more than enough to show me how aroused you are, and as I turn the dimmer up gently on the lights, I can see the red flush of impending orgasm across your breasts and the concentration on your face as you fight desperately to keep the vibrator inside you. You know for sure that to lose a toy betrays lack of control and would surely be punished.
Sweet decisions on my part; should I continue to hold you in torment or allow you the release that your whole body screams you desire? We have all night to play, so with malicious intent, I reach across your writhing body, turn the vibrator to maximum, and tell you that if you come in the next five minutes, it'll be the worse for you. The look on your face as you hear these words is an intense turn-on for me. Tonight, though, your control is superb, and as the minutes tick by, you manage to hold off until you hear me say, "You may come."
As I hold you in my arms, your body twitches and writhes in ecstasy. This is the first release I've allowed you in the last week, and I know how that pent-up need just builds and builds.
As your shuddering subsides, you suddenly realize that you had forgotten to thank me before letting go. As I smile at you and shake my head, you know that this oversight will surely lead to an exquisite punishment.
As I see your eyelids drooping and your body relaxing into languorous post-orgasmic sleep, I draw the duvet over your naked body and gently remove the handcuffs. Although discipline and punishment play a part in our relationship (sometimes a big one), this is balanced by tenderness and affection. Several hours later, when I hear you stirring, I return to the bedroom. You stretch your arms upward, exposing your luscious breasts, and smile at me. As you recover from your slumbers, memories of the events earlier in the evening return, and you start to wonder how we will continue.However, in the position that I now place you - unbound and compliant, you know that your freedom to stop is apparently significantly enhanced (in reality, the use of your safe word at any time would cause an immediate cessation anyway), but in an unrestrained position, you are free to move away at any time if you so choose. The mind game is now about not being forced to submit but accepting readily and willingly. As I move back towards the table, you do not need to turn and look to know that I have selected my favorite crop. With an element of predictability, my exposure of your pussy and the sensitive inner edges of the tops of your thighs has signaled my intentions.
I start by rubbing the leather end of the crop in slow, lascivious strokes, starting at the mid-level of your outer thigh and moving slowly inwards and upwards. As I reach the apex of this travel for the third time, I can see the visible evidence of your arousal as the first drop of pussy juice glints on your cunt.
I then move more forcefully and start a rapid oscillation of light strokes between your inner thighs, ensuring that as I move from left to right and back again, the triangular flap of leather rises to the apex of your legs and stimulates the bottom edge of your pussy lips. As I continue this action, the effect on your arousal is clearly identifiable from the increase in the flow of lubrication. At this point, my focus moves, and I start to gently slap your clitoral hood. As I continue, the little bud that is the core of your pleasure can do no more than expose itself from behind its shielding layer of skin.
As I continue to increase the force and rapidity of these strokes, you realize that not only do you have another orgasm approaching, but that my own arousal is now clearly evident from within the constraints of my trousers.
At this point, you know that the game has changed from play to something more close and intimate, as I realize the extent of my own arousal. It is all I can do to quickly remove my own clothing as we both collapse naked on the bed.
Although there are a number of rules and requirements during our role-playing, when (if) we move towards this situation, you know that these no longer apply. Our goal now is mutual pleasure from fucking and not game-playing.
Recognizing my arousal, your first thought is to take back control by taking my erect hardness into your mouth and performing slow and agonizingly exquisite deep-throat fellatio on my erect cock. In order to equal out the stimulation, I move around into a 69 position and start to lick and suck your cunt for all my worth, and for several minutes, sexual brinkmanship on both our parts prevails.
As my dick continues to twitch spasmodically under your tongue-lashing, I fight to regain control and, spinning round, kiss you resoundingly on the lips (of your mouth!). My rock-hard (thanks to your ministrations) cock is now nuzzling for entry to your warm, wet, and swollen pussy. As I slide inside you, we both breathe deep sighs of ecstatic pleasure. As we move together, it is clear that neither of us can contain our self-control for very long, as my cum spurts inside you, and I groan and quiver in ecstasy. Your orgasm rises up from your toes in a spasm that vibrates every part of your body. | null | null | Authors/ian321/Ongoing.txt |
90,831 | Holly Rennick | Dancing Lessons | Years ago in my church, they wouldn't let us have premarital sex. They said it might lead to dancing.
1935
To sixth graders at Flat Lake Elementary, all teachers are old. Knowing this was Miss Hanson's first year didn't distinguish her that much from Miss McGraw who'd taught our parents. Miss McGraw had us for fifth, and we were glad to be done with "fluxations -- a full minute of vigorous exercise between recitations to revitalize academic concentration."
I liked Miss Hanson from the first day, how she waltzed in, how she told us to be seated, and how she informed us that glaciers scooped out our local water body. "It's not geography; it's geology. It's in the rocks."
I liked her because she knew so much about everything. She showed on our globe, for example, where Amelia Earhart crossed the Atlantic. (The girls were more interested, but so were some of us boys.) "It's a big old world, but not too big for getting there and back," she'd observed. Roosevelt beating Hoover, she explained, was because in America everybody gets his turn.
Probably another reason I liked her was that she was really pretty for a teacher, her yellow hair longer than Miss McGraw's jet black, her cheeks pinker and her lips more scarlet.
I knew that Miss Hanson was new in town, renting Mr. Story's mother's little house because Old Mrs. Story had died. Miss Hanson didn't have family here, and other than Mama now, neither did I.
I guess that Miss Hanson liked me OK, too. I studied for examinations and hardly ever got caught cutting up. When Miss Hanson wanted to move us onto the next subject, but nobody could answer the question about the last, she'd call on me. "Thanks, Andrew," she once confided when everybody else was grabbing their mackintoshes and galoshes. None of the other boys ever caught on that I was helping her teach.
I'd never hang around and miss being shortstop or anything important, but sometimes if nobody was noticing, I'd stay after and help Miss Hanson pick up. It didn't take long, and we'd talk about things not school. That's how I found out that she made $225 a month, and that's how she found out that I could yodel. (I'd never been shown; I just could.) As I was stretching to hit five feet, her extra six or seven inches made me look up when we exchanged information.
Once I asked if she liked the pictures. I'd just seen "Shanghai Express," really good.
"Can you keep a secret, Andrew?" she'd answered, to my surprise. Why would a teacher tell a kid a secret?
"Sure, Miss Hanson."
"Did you see 'The Sin of Madelon Claudet'?"
I shook my head; it sounded too complicated.
"Well," she explained, "Helen Hayes plays this lady who went to jail for a crime she didn't do and has to earn money," she picked her words, "to pay her son's tuition. She won a cinema award, Helen Hays." She grinned. "But don't tell anybody I told you, promise?"
I dutifully pledged.
"It's probably a little old for you, and anyway, it's not the type they bring to the Pavilion."
No, I agreed, because the Pavilion would stick with things like Shanghai Express.
Helping wipe her pen nibs clean was the first time I ever thought much about her body. When she leaned over my shoulder for the blotter, one of her breasts touched my arm. At twelve, you don't notice that sort of thing too much, but then you start to pay attention. Some girls in my class had breasts, but just little ones.
Maybe she didn't notice or maybe she didn't mind. But twice that week I touched her breasts on purpose. Once was when she was reaching up to shelve a book, I was behind and reached around and barely touched one on its side.
The other time was when we moved her podium, me grabbing around the edge from my side and her from hers. The back of my hands could feel the binding beneath the ruffles of her blouse. Even still, she seemed so soft.
It was one of those afternoons, me sitting at her desk to look at the National Geographic pictures of Abyssinia. Knowing I was interested in foreign places, she'd pulled our chair together so we both could read. People there are black but Christian, she pointed out. Some of the women were naked, but I don't think she noticed that part.
Miss Hanson's breast was so near.
It must have been because we were close that she rested my hand on her lap. I looked at the photo of Emperor Selassie as she explained about the Ethiopians beating the Italians in 1896. I knew by her voice that she wasn't looking at the picture, though, but at the side of my face. Somehow I knew from where she'd left my palm that she knew I'd wanted to touch her breasts.
When we finished the article, she laughed about how big the world was, how little of it we'd ever see.
*****
When she needed somebody to mow her lawn, I was glad for the dime. Hanging around for the lemonade postponed my own Saturday chores, more since Papa had hitched to look for work in California.
We were eating cornbread at Miss Hanson's kitchen table. "Andrew?" I looked up from my plate. "Do you know how to dance?"
I shook my head. Mama wanted me to take lessons, but I wouldn't cooperate.
"I've got two new phonograph records: 'Smoke Gets in Your Eyes' by Paul Whiteman and 'I Only Have Eyes for You' by Dick Powell. Heard them? They're both about eyes."
I shook my head, same as before. Maybe I'd heard them, but not particularly.
"I've never danced to them. Want me to teach you?"
"Nah," my mouth full.
"That's no answer. In a few years you'll be going to the prom," pulling me from my nourishment.
I didn't want to, but then I didn't not want to, either. It was with Miss Hanson, after all.
"Wrap with right; lead with left," articulating my stick-man configuration. "The boy leads, but not during lessons," pushing me backwards.
It wasn't that difficult, and sometimes I'd even be steering her a little by the time she'd have to restart the record. Because of the height difference, though, my view over her shoulder was blocked, and I couldn't turn right as easily as left. It didn't seem to matter.
We'd be more-or-less spaced the way she wanted until we'd simultaneously initiate a mutually-exclusive rotation and trip. But her eyes didn't tell me that I was clumsy. The first misstep or two, her breasts against my collarbone made me blush, but after a few collisions, Miss Hanson matter-of-factly parked me closer, explaining that we'd not bump so hard. I could see down her collar into the valley between her breasts.
I didn't mind her chest cushioning my mistakes. My right hand around her back rested where her brassiere connected. "That's the right place to put it. Always press the girl toward you so she knows you're holding her."
When the record ended, she reflected, "It's good to get to dance a little, isn't it?"
Her breasts still touched me because I was still pressing the back of her strap.
"You know how to tell your partner that it was fun?" not shaking me loose and knowing I lacked the answer. "With a little kiss, just on the cheek."
I wasn't sure if this was something I was supposed to do, as this was just a lesson, but it didn't matter. She kissed me on my forehead.
"No tell, OK?"
I shook my head. I wouldn't want my friends to know.
After the next time through, me working more on holding my left arm out straighter, she asked, "So how'd I do?"
"Fine," I judged.
"Like a dancer puts it."
I blushed, I'm sure, but tilted my head and bussed her cheek. It was, after all, how you tell your partner. Except for Mama and a few aunties and both grandmas, I'd never really kissed anybody else before. I liked the way she smelled.
"Good," she agreed.
By two or three times through, it was automatic. She'd offer her cheek and I'd peck. Actually, I rather came to look forward to when the record ended.
But I didn't expect to catch the side of her mouth by accident. She'd made the mistake by turning too much.
"You're learning, Andrew," not letting go for an extra moment, her chest high on mine.
I knew that dancing sometimes made me get big, the same as what sometimes happened when we had goosing contests at Scout camp. Or would get sometimes when we'd look at a naked woman, like in Mike's flipbook from France. I was big sometimes just from waiting for the kiss. It wasn't exactly the same as flipping Mike's book, though; it was the flower fragrance of her hair.
Maybe that's when I first noticed how close Miss Hanson's legs got, her thigh sometimes against me when we'd take long steps. She said it's Argentinean and showed me the Pampas in National Geographic.
*****
Dancing takes a lot of work.
"Now Andrew, what happens at a real dance is that people take little breaks, go outside for some fresh air, maybe."
I nodded. It's good to know.
"But probably we shouldn't go outside, this house being where it is, so we can just sit down... No, you lead me with your arm, say over there to the divan."So seated, she didn't free my elbow, adding, "You may still give me the kiss you forgot."
I had forgotten.
I didn't get her cheek, though, because again she turned too much. And I didn't pull away because her mouth was just too red. And it just kept happening because I didn't know how to stop. Or maybe because of her pursed lips.
At the end, we were both giggling at my lipstick smudge. In the process, the front of my arm was even more against her bosom.
"Secret?" she queried.
"Secret," I happily concurred. As much as I didn't appreciate the larger picture, the specifics weren't things that other kids should know about.
"Let's try that again, then." So we did, Miss Hanson toward me and my arm again nuzzling.
"I'd be more comfortable in my slip, don't you think? Your mother wears hers when you're around sometimes, I'll bet."
It hadn't occurred to me she was uncomfortable, but it was indeed warm. Mama wore her slip to the bathroom all the time.
It only took Miss Hanson a minute to divest herself of skirt and blouse, slip and brassiere straps the only things left to protect her shoulders. I could see the swells and seams underneath. Mama in her slip, I'd never noticed anything, but then I hadn't looked.
"That's better," she agreed with her decision, reclaiming her place beside. "Just call me Jean Harlow."
I didn't think that we probably ought to start kissing again, but hadn't the argument to dissuade.
"Ummm," when she drew my reach to the side of her ribs, so close that my fingers lay against the silkiness, my wrist against softness.
But then she guided my hand away. "That's so nice, Andrew, but you're not that old." The way she said it had more of a question mark.
Twelve is almost a teenager. I'd heard of 14-year-olds lying to join the Great War and I wasn't too far from that. I wasn't too young for pride.
"Oh, no, Miss Hanson, I'm plenty old enough," sensing that I'd improve my stature with my hand again on the side her slip.
"They can't know," she objected, but not to my touch. I could see her brassiere cup where the slip fell away from her front.
"Not if it's a secret," the nature of "it" unspecific in my own mind.
"Well, just some more kisses," she conceded. "Everybody's old enough for that."
I gave her my best, probably more energetic than anything. I must have been a little effective, though, because of her nipple's hardness within her underwear. Her inhalation told me she realized I was touching on purpose.
"It's not such a good idea, me being your teacher," after she again moved my hand.
"It's our secret," I reiterated, sensing that a hard nipple felt nice to her.
"You've got to promise not to try to reach inside," cognizant that the vee in her slip wasn't that far away. "That would be really bad."
"I won't," picturing her valley. Was that inside?
"But what if somebody knocks?" appealing to my youthful deceptiveness.
"Back there someplace." I vaguely waved, realizing that I could actually see the diameter of her nipple pushing against her slip.
We gathered up the Victrola, Miss Hanson leading me to the bedroom.
We danced again, me reverting to my innate woodenness. At the end, we kissed mouth to mouth and sat on the bed. I did know that being on a woman's bed was different from being on her divan, but as I wasn't touching, it didn't seem that much different.
"That picture with Helen Hays?" She rested my hand on the silk of her knee. "You know what it's about?"
"I didn't see it, remember?"
"No, of course not. She makes love."
I looked at her, probably strangely.
"You know about it, right?" she continued. "How a man and a woman...?"
I nodded. At least in a sense -- everyone's seen dogs.
"That's why you're big," she ventured.
Me big? At first I was lost, but then the realization hit that she knew from the front of my pants! I'd never agreed to that!
"I didn't think you were old enough," she reflected.
I started to get up.
"Andrew," Miss Hanson looked concerned. "You just go on home now. Nothing happened." She thought a bit more. "You'll be a good dancer, though, Andrew. I liked it."
All week I weighed my dilemma. Sure, I wanted to kiss her, to feel old. At the same time, she'd guessed about my penis, something I didn't want a teacher knowing. At the end, though, the kissing part won out.
*****
Miss Hanson looked surprised when I pedaled up the following Saturday. She was in a high-necked gingham dress, something she might have chosen for a picnic.
"Hi. I just was biking around and I wondered if you needed any help with anything."
She touched her collar and considered the offer. "Park it behind the shed. There're Mrs. Story's things still up in the attic to rearrange."
The attic was hot and cluttered. She and I stacked a few trunks under the eaves, but after an incremental effort with Old Mrs. Story's third chest of drawers, Miss Hanson decided, "OK, now a dance lesson, since you're already here."
In the living room, I wrapped with right and led with left and marched her around until she took charge and steered us to the back, a credit to my gained ability that we danced all the way.
She looked out her bedroom window, not at me. "I'll make it swell for you. It won't hurt, I promise," her cheeks flushed. She stripped to her slip, her lack of inhibition speaking an agenda perhaps further than mine.
"You can't," I protested, my eyes riveted as she slipped off her hair band. She'd never undone her hair before. I wasn't sure what she couldn't, but I knew she shouldn't.
She paused, looked at me blankly, paled and said, "Oh."
But then she smiled with her eyes. "You still OK about kissing? You were great last lesson!"
I nodded and we sat down together.
"Sweet and long," and she showed me what she meant.
After a pause to re-latch mouths, she drew my hand to where it had wandered before.
"We get big, you and me both, don't we?" her suggestion not as threatening as before. I wasn't sure how she knew, though, as I'd twisted in the opposite direction.
"When we get big, the other wants to know it, Andrew," almost like a dancing rule. It wasn't that I wanted her to know it, but it seemed to be clear.
"There's something that the girl can do that's like what you're doing to me," rolling her shoulder to make her breast drag against my fingertips.
"And I'm going to show you," tugging my arm until we both fell backwards. "It's not how you make love, buddy boy, but it's part of our secret. Why you came over."
Spoken with authority.
Yes I struggled, but not because I was afraid. I just didn't want her knowing that I was big, how wrestling on her covers was making me bigger. The problem was that we were still kissing, even after she unbuckled me. I didn't really think she'd pull down my trousers.
Even seeing the shape of my undershorts wasn't enough. She pushed them down, too,
In the gaze of her room, I'd shriveled to my little size and I had only a fuzz of hair, so it wasn't as there was much to see. It hadn't been that many years since I'd not have cared, anyway. I at least knew she'd not tell.
Once her fingers found me, the contest was over. I quieted and I felt myself get big again, but this time to her command.
At home, I'd rubbed myself against my pillow for the friction. My buddy Clarence, anxious to share his newfound discovery, had already told me another way: "Just stroke it." I'd tried, but in the absence of mental focus, the pillow worked better.
Miss Hanson made me realize what Clarence meant.
"Don't!" I ordered as she acquainted herself.
"Don't move," she responded and I obeyed, motionless while she closed the blinds to make the ceiling dim.
Returning, she lay beside and taught me masturbation.
It seemed odd, her being a real teacher and a woman, but I'd no choice. We both knew that it felt good and that I'd cooperate.
It took three or four attempts before I mastered my role. At first I just jousted her hand. Then there was the time when I couldn't even stay big. Then we coalesced.
Alone on my pillow, I'd never gotten further than just tickling to pleasant excitement without culmination. Miss Hanson showed me the purpose, her fingers inviting my impending wonder. Droplets that seeped free, she used to wet me. Miss Hanson's hand and the tingling below my belly were all I felt. I must have turned red when my orgasm proclaimed itself.
I knew that she was happy, too, pleased that I'd found her nipple, pleased that she'd succeeded.
"It's good when it happens," she encouraged, still rubbing my flaccid underside.
I lay there, spent.
"It means that you can make a baby someday."
I knew that there was more Miss Hanson could do, things about which boys whisper, things involving no clothes for her too. But as long as she was in her underwear, I let her do what felt good.
I'd bike to her house and we'd always kiss when I climaxed. I knew Miss Hanson liked to peek and wipe her palm on her slip.
*****
It was hard concentrating in Miss Hanson's classroom, my hand slipping to my penis instead to my notebook. It was hard watching her write on the blackboard, me the piece of chalk. It was hard when we'd look at National Geographics after school some days, her fingers teasing my fly, promises of the Saturday to come.
*****
But somehow, even I knew we couldn't keep it going. It was Miss Hanson's decision; I was just the kid.
"Andrew, we're going to stop," one Saturday, without introduction. "Nothing bad's happened and nothing bad's going to happen. We're just not going to do it any more." And that was that. I guess I didn't even want more elaboration.I was positive we wouldn't be caught, but I knew that if we were, I'd get a whipping and she'd lose her job.
She never said anything else, though I knew she'd sometimes watch me during examinations. She didn't really need an after-school helper, I decided.
With Saturday hockey, not going to Miss Hanson's was a fillable void. I was growing up, could masturbate myself. Kids keep going.
I showed Helen Klassen how, and she'd do me behind her folks' garage more than just on Saturdays. Plus she'd pull up her camisole. She'd not pull down her panties, though. I'd never even seen Miss Hanson's panties. Helen didn't wear a slip.
1942
The Class of '42 was a somber lot, though of course we'd deny it. Eighteen-year-old males had assured employment, we joked. Eighteen-year-old females realized that their steady might soon be a statistic, not a joke. Most of us guys hoped to be sent to the Pacific where there were hula girls. We'd never seen the ocean.
We themed our Christmas Dance around "White Christmas" by Bing Crosby. Everybody had learned the words.
For the prom, though, it was "Paper Doll" by the Mills Brothers. More snappy. The girls even had life-size paper dolls cellophane-taped to the gym walls. As Flat Lake High School always did, we invited our old teachers to stop by, have some punch and see us all dressed up. Some teachers always came and some probably still remembered us too well. I'd taken Helen, but the way your buddies cut in, you really wouldn't see much of your date until afterwards, by the lake.
Anyway, I was in my Sears suit, jiving about numbskull Nazis, when in walked Miss Hanson.
Over my high school years, I'd seen her around town, said, "Hi, Miss Hanson," but never much else. What had happened so long ago was too far back to make any difference. I was just a kid then, sixth grade was all. Most everybody probably learns from somebody older, though probably not a teacher. She'd taught me two things not in the classroom, actually, but I still wasn't much of a dancer.
Miss Hanson was in a sky blue dress that made half the girls in my own class look dowdy, at least to me.
"Glad to see you, Miss Hanson," my grownup voice.
"Oh, Andrew," pleased to be greeted. "I was hoping. You're going into the Navy, I hear?"
"Maybe be a gunner. That's the plan, anyway," picturing myself in a sleeveless flak vest.
"Well, you'll be a great one and we'll see you in the newsreels."
"Too smoky, firing all those shells." Then the tune hit me, the one about paper dolls. "Know this one, our theme this year?" affecting a finger snap that might be used by sailors.
"Of course. Mills Brothers," before realizing my invitation. "I can't. This is a dance for you youngsters. I'm thirty."
"No you're not!" Actually, it had never registered how many years she was. But shoot, I was almost in the Armed Forces myself.
On the floor, nobody seemed to think it odd, me dancing with an old teacher. Politeness is taken seriously in places like Flat Lake.
"You know all the modern steps now?" she wondered before I demonstrated to the contrary.
Was it my doing, or hers? As I now stood above her by at least as many inches as she'd towered me, it wasn't just gravitation to old ways. But two-stepping, she leaned the way I remembered. The back of her dress even had the silky feeling of the slip I remembered. Nobody would have even noticed the gap narrow between us, rediscovery was so slow. (Maybe it was more like rediscovering discovery, if the indirectness makes sense.)
Without looking down, I knew that her nipples were hard, just as she must have known about my erection. I guess we both tried not to press together to confirm, but we knew. I realized I'd moved my legs just enough apart for her hip to masturbate me. It was as if six years were nothing.
"Thank you, Andrew," as we finished. "That was lovely. I just stopped by to see all you kids."
I hoped my brush to her cheek looked like what you'd give the bride at the reception, just a momentary touch. Her hair still smelled like violets. Her hand lingered in mine just an extra second as she parted.
I'd told the guys that this was the night I'd pop Helen's cherry. I knew that Helen didn't want to, but I'd probably get away with it because it was prom. That's when most kids in Flat Lake start, anyway. Parked at the lake.
But petting in the family Nash, the windows too steamed to see the moon on the water, I took on Helen's nervousness. She let me undo her brassiere, but wouldn't turn for me to suck, how I'd bragged I'd get her ready.
And I didn't really know what I was doing. The guys say just to follow your hormones, push it where it fits, but that implies her wanting it to fit. Anyway, Helen's expert hand got my fly open, and I came on her chiffon, her virginity saved for some four-eyes who'd fail the physical.
It was still early and I knew that Papa (who'd never found lasting work in California, but Flat Lake now had a tool-kit production plant) assumed I'd be fucking away into the night. I could just hear him calming Mama, "It's their prom, remember? Andrew's grown up. We're going to love having grandchildren, so why make them wait till we're in rocking chairs?"
I was still wet where Helen had done me, so it wasn't that I was still horny. I was alone, always alone. At eighteen, you know.
The light was on in the back of Miss Hanson's and I slowed. I wanted to tell her that she'd been my favorite teacher. I should have told her at the prom, but she'd already left. I guess I wanted her to know that for one brief year I'd been not so lonely.
"Andrew!" genuinely surprised at my tap. "Do come in. Sorry I'm not dressed," waving at her bathrobe, more cover than the slip I remembered.
I followed her to the kitchen where, as if she knew, she pulled a pitcher from the icebox. "Sorry I don't have something stronger." As an afterthought, "Navy boy."
"Just lemonade, if you please, to dilute whatever they added to the punch."
She laughed and sat down to see me. I could tell from her flatter form that she'd shed her brassiere.
"I was pretty stupid, right?" she volunteered, her topic not needing preamble. She'd been thinking about years back, same as me. Why small-talk about gym decorations? "You were what?" she tried to calculate. "Way too young, anyway."
"You never made me," I justified. I hadn't come to blame. I'd wanted her to do it every time.
"That's not the point. You were too little."
We sat in silence, sipping the bittersweet.
"I was pretty young, too," she reflected. "I thought it wouldn't go anywhere."
"It didn't."
She looked at me, brow furrowed, then breathed out. "If you'd have reached inside, what I said not to do, it maybe would have. I prayed you wouldn't and prayed you would."
To me it had been simpler, but I nodded. I knew that her being older was why we stopped so suddenly.
When she refilled my glass, she made no effort to mask the nipple contoured in her robe.
I returned to my intention. "I just wanted you to know that you were my favorite teacher."
But telling her something so innocuous spoke of something else, about what part of being lonely led me to knock. It wasn't to give her an apple. "I'm eighteen, now."
"I knew that when we danced. Thanks for asking me. I already said that, right?" She looked at me. "And you've never made love."
The bluntness didn't seem harsh. When someone's watched you climax, even years ago, boundaries vaporize. Sometimes she'd used talcum powder on me so I'd slide smoother. Sometimes she'd sponged me clean afterwards. Sometimes when we were shelving books, other kids still leaving the room, she'd turned so they'd not see my finger on her breast.
Here at the prom, so many years later, she'd felt me press her with the urge. Why lie?
"Not really."
She cuffed me across the table. "Relax, sailor man."
"I was going to with Helen, but she..."
"Said no," Miss Hanson finished. "She's got a head on her shoulders. Going to college, I'll bet. I'm glad you took a nice girl."
"I'm going to college, too, afterwards," I decided.
"So you didn't," returning me to the present. "Kids drop out when they have to get married."
It was OK, I agreed.
"You started when we danced tonight, Andrew." She wasn't cuffing me now; she'd put her hand on my arm.
"Started?"
"Making love to me."
Making love to her? "Oh no, Miss Hanson. You're a teacher!"
"It's not about me. It's about you."
It was about me.
"I'll do it with some South Seas girl," I predicted. "They'll give us rubbers, the recruiting sergeant says."
She knew I was bluffing before I'd finished. I wasn't thinking about a native in a grass skirt. My draw to Miss Hanson was the same as ever.
"No, not for your first time." Her objection spoke to not just the physical.
She let me think a moment. "It's prom night, Andrew. And I was your date."
"Maybe," I reflected.
She moved her hand up my arm. "We don't need to go the lake." Teachers know about their students. "To make love," she added.
"But guys always want to. It doesn't mean we should'" I argued against myself.
"I wanted to every time you came over. To take off my slip."
"I was too little. You said so."
"To make love, maybe, but you'd have been inside."
"So let's just dance some more," I stalled.
I guess we still had "Paper Doll" in our heads, because we didn't need the record. I'd always be a little mechanical, I realized, but she let me lead. When I pulled her against me, a down pillow.
She broke the beat just once. "Andrew, it's good we're going to finish. For both of us." Then in a more-assertive tone, "You're not going to pull it out, are you?"
She could feel my head shake against her ear.I'd do it the way she wanted.
"Just wanted to make sure," she said, using her knee to steer me, Argentinean-style, to the room I remembered.
Nobody writes much about the loss of male virginity. We're supposed to deny that we ever were. Boys at Flat Lake tend to be frustrated until they have a steady, hoping for marriage. But even if the two are both "pure" (as they call it in church), all the focus goes to feminine surrender, even if in fact she's the one hoping to start the baby.
Miss Hanson helped me with my shirt, and I helped her with her bathrobe, her nightie revealing the curves I'd remembered from her slip. She helped me with my undershirt, and I lifted up her hem, uncovering her white panties. Her nipples were stationary under the sliding cotton.
"You can look," she said. "I'm quite normal."
Her breasts, rounder than the projection of her brassiere, were cream with darker areole. She let me test the leniency of her bosoms.
After she removed my trousers, I wasn't quick enough, so she herself slipped off her panties. "Touch me," she suggested, unveiling her tuft of reddish gold.
She didn't take my underpants, but rather pulled me onto her, letting my erection, straining against my shorts, work up the inside of her legs.
I'm unsure how she stripped me, but my flesh first rubbed against her curls, then into her draw, along the wetness of her vagina, past the tightness and into the mystery. My stiffness knew without guidance.
I knew what to do, if not how to do it well. My hips told when to push in and when to pull back, and her response validated my motions. I'd never realized how slick a woman would feel, how well we'd fit together.
I climaxed and knew that she didn't, but she seemed to accept me for what I'd given.
When I withdrew (was extruded might be more truthful), she caressed my forehead not unlike how she'd kissed me after we'd first danced. "You stayed in great!"
I mumbled something about the hour, hastily redressed and never went back.
I'd both proven myself as a man and failed as a lover. With Helen, I'd have cared, too, but not felt responsible. Miss Hanson, though, I'd wanted to give more than manly squirts and a messy sheet. I wanted to make her love me.
According to boot camp inductees, your first broads are just for practice, anyway. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Maybe if I'd fucked Helen first, I'd have done better with Miss Hanson.
There in the Nash, I could have taken Helen. Probably I'd disappointed her, too, making her masturbate me, not making her a woman. Did she go home, look at the chiffon dress and cry?
But I'd always wanted it to be with Miss Hanson.
1946
Things work out the oddest ways. Gunnery School already had their quota, but I'd good grammar grades, so I'd be in Communications. I thought I'd hit fat city, but then found out that we're the suckers who hit the beach with the Marines, them carrying rifles and us, radios. But I never took a direct hit or stepped on a mine before the Japs surrendered and was redeployed as a Navy journalist. (It all fits under "Communications".)
The promised hula girls turned out to be thieving Filipina hookers, so although the rubbers from Quartermaster wasn't a lie, I'd rarely opted for the freebie.
I could have taken my discharge pay, but the journalism part seemed interesting and at least in uniform I could get the experience. Norway, of all places, was where the Admirals wanted press. "Sailor, you can choose any assignment from the list provided" and I got a list with Norway.
Oslo was still grim, but the citizens were free. The byline that won me the award was about the elderly Norwegians with a GI grandson whom they'd never met. This blond US Army skiing soldier slalomed to their doorstep the day Germany went kaput. He'd been in the country for reconnaissance and had figured out who they were from what his father had told him. My commander wished it had been a Navy man, however.
Reporting was my ticket out of Flat Lake, the vernacular, though more accurately in my case, how to avoid a ticket back to Flat Lake. Reporting keeps you paying attention, looking for connections, letting your job consume each day's extra 16 hours. There's little time for distraction.
The USO was where reporters hung out for the cheap stories, second or third hand, but maybe useful for background. Drinks were cheap.
The Norwegian employee in the USO dress emerged from the phone booth and stared. "Andrew?"
I must have looked confused.
"It is you!" she said, clapping her hands, and I knew! Not the voice (which of course I knew immediately), but the eyes.
"Miss Hanson? I mean, how...?"
"Flat Lake gave me a year to serve in the USO and I speak Norwegian. It's Greta."
"You do?"
"From my folks. Not in Flat Lake. 'Hvordan har du det?' means how are you?"
"Surprised." And that I was. Miss Hanson, exactly the same. The sexual tie was hardly yet recalled.
"So why are you here? You kicked the Krauts out."
"Me? I'm a Navy journalist."
"Well this is so great, in this big old world!" she said again, clapping her hands. Her braid was the Norwegian style, woven around the back of her head.
"Are you...?" What was I asking?
"Same as ever. You?"
I wasn't sure what she'd thought I'd asked, but it seemed clear to her. "Same as ever, too," I ventured. The only difference was that I was in uniform. Plus I felt happy.
"Then we can dance while we catch up," she decided. The USO jukebox was playing "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!" by Vaughn Monroe.
"Good grief, Andrew!" she declared as we started. Before I could apologize for my extra left foot, she laughed, "I hope you don't write a column about ballroom dancing. Here," as she got me in step.
"Just the one about the importance of having a good teacher," I said, regaining my delight.
"Heading back to Flat Lake?" I asked during a lull. Two or three enlisted men had tried to cut in, but I'd said we were together.
"My job. I fit in. Lots to keep me busy. You?"
"To get my stuff."
"Got a girl?"
"Not enough time," I almost believed myself. Maybe after I settled down.
"Parents well?"
"Guess so. Let's dance some more."
Afterwards, I walked her back to her flat, more of a dorm for USO staff. As much of my sexual history as she'd defined, that wasn't how I saw her tonight. I'd not seen an old friend for such a long time, one who even knew my folks! And as odd as a teacher being an old friend might seem in Flat Lake, Miss Hanson (Greta, I mean) seemed that in Oslo.
At the doorstep, though, an echo crept back. We'd not danced closely, but I'd felt her breasts. She, as had I, must have remembered prom night. How I'd climaxed so quickly and left.
"Miss Hanson?"
"It's Greta."
"OK." I paused. "I guess I just want to say I'm sorry for showing up like that, you know..."
"And making love?" she said in Norwegian.
"Yeah, that."
She took both my elbows in her hands, placing herself where I could see her. "It was about love. You knew that."
"Yeah, but still...."
"We're never sorry about love, at least I'm not."
"You're not?" I wished I'd told Miss Hanson that I was sorry for being clumsy, but that I had loved her, even if I stayed clumsy.
"Andrew," she said, still locking my elbows, "remember how to tell her it was a nice dance?"
I remembered.
"And how a girl agrees that that was a nice dance?" she said, head tilted.
I gave her a kiss that hung there.
"And how we made love, just once?" she said against my lips. With the Filipina, it was connection without union. "Come on," she said, taking my hand, not unlike years ago. "Mary Ellen and Doris can sleep somewhere else."
She'd take me in again? The grad who'd run off? Had she been lonely that night, too?
I followed, our fingers locked. Maybe we both were shaking a little, but it could have been the cold.
Indeed, we did have three beds to ourselves, thanks to her roommates. "This is my old friend Andrew. Really!"
Naked, she looked boldly Norwegian. Back in Flat Lake, her reddish-blond seemed secretive. Here, it was as if she were leading me to the sauna.
"You're beautiful," I stammered, and she laughed at the thought.
I undressed more slowly, folding my uniform in the way of GIs who do their own ironing. Her eyes told me what to next remove.
"I don't have a rubber or anything," I admitted, wondering if she remembered what I'd said about the natives.
She surprised me. "We'll take our chances. It was just chance that we met tonight, right?"
I wasn't that sure, but it was nothing that either of us could have made happen.
I made love somewhat better than my performance after the prom. I should have gone slower, but I know I induced a spark when she arched and gasped. The girls I'd been with before had murmured things like, "Come on, big boy!" or "Oh man, make me come!" Greta wasn't verbal, speaking with alternation of her hips, trying to kiss until we both lost track of the other's face.
She just grinned afterwards. "They say that how many more times won't make a difference in baby-chances." In Norway, she was free of Flat Lake.
The second time I mounted, her heels held me and we let her wetness smooth the passages. When she moaned, it was for stroke after stroke. She stilled at the end so I could seed her deepest reaches.
"Andrew?" she whispered afterwards. "I wish we'd done this by the lake."
"Me, too."
"You were scared?"
I told her yes.
"So was I. But I even when you were too little," she reflected, "I wish we'd learned together."
"I was in sixth grade."
"I was a virgin when I started teaching, when you came over. Maybe that's why I wanted to teach you to dance. It seemed safe."
"It wasn't?" I wondered.
"Tell me how we'd have done it by the lake. On a field trip."We rested, her cheek on my chest, while I chronicled a boy's fantasy. She'd have stood by the water to show the class where the glacier pushed away the land. We each must find a worn rock as evidence. I'd follow her into the pines, surprise her and strip her of her clothes. I listed each piece, how I'd undo it. I'd lay her back on a bed of pine boughs. As the other classmates passed this way and that around our hidden nest, I'd kneel between her knees and shove myself deeper and deeper inside.
"The needles would be scratchy," she scolded, relishing the scratches.
"OK, it was this grassy place. You called it 'Practicals.'"
She laughed. "C-, since I got pregnant."
Again in Oslo, rested and re-entering, she yelped and pretended to buck me off. "I've got to walk tomorrow, sailor boy!" her protest belied by the elevation of her hips and the span of her knees.
"Shush, they'll hear," determined to save myself until she was in full orgasm.
"I want them to know, silly."
At breakfast, Mary Ellen and Doris and a couple whose names I didn't get set the table with Kellogg's Corn Flakes, almost impossible to acquire in a land of oat porridge. "Doris is engaged to a captain at Allied HQ," the explanation. The others smiled at the "engaged".
Mary Ellen and Doris were hunky-dory when I'd call, good-naturedly hauling their bedding elsewhere. Sometimes they'd hardly button their bathrobes to do it, Yankee breasts barely draped by their nightclothes.
Some nights, Greta and I would rotate bed-to-bed. "Mary Ellen's is the quietist, but too near the door." Sometimes we'd move all three together and wrestle without plan regarding connection.
On giggling occasions, Greta would slip me into the room while her roommates slept and we'd make no more noise than the swish of the sheet and the squeak of the springs. The two were supposed to be sleeping, anyway, but once I caught Mary Ellen's open eye. All she could do was grin red-handed and flutter her fingers. I never told Greta.
Once when Greta and I came out, Doris and her date were on the parlor sofa, she on his lap in a way that could meant but one thing, an afghan over her shoulders for modesty. The two awkwardly pretended to chat while Greta showed me to the door, but I expect that they didn't then wait for her to cross back to her room.
Oslo was a time of freedom, a time of evenings. If I'd been born there, I'd have stayed, but my Navy papers said I was from Flat Lake and I guess I was. They say that the War changed a whole generation. In my case, though, perhaps it was more that it opened a door outward, but the same boy stepped through it.
I was posted to Naples to document Sea Bees repairing chapels. I got another Sector Award and it was warmer, but I just had to do it until discharge. I fucked an Italian girl on the beach. Her family had lost most of their farmhouse when we'd bombed. I think she was about sixteen.
1950
Five years later, my GI Bill degree was still worth less to hard-line editors than what I'd learned in blue. It's not that I'd won the citations, but I knew how to sit on a story until it broke. The Portland Oregonian paid me to keep Oregonians informed about everything from timber sales to the legislature.
News beats can be solitary; good reporters rarely stay married. Inside scoops come from wives looking for companionship. Maybe they want to find out something from you, even. Dinner, drinks and a Holiday Inn -- work expenses. I've got colleagues who'll only bed married women, ones whose spouses make marriage worth their while. Single chicks are the problems. So they say, anyway. Others who'll only bed married women so they needn't worry about impregnation. Lots of reporters are shits.
Was I a good reporter? I was Goddamn good. Did I like it? I loved it. Did I need much else? Not really. Growing up in a place like Flat Lake, you're probably not going to go off and be a shit.
It was on the radio -- Nat King Cole's "Mona Lisa".
At my first dance lesson, Miss Hanson had told me about eyes, hers as present as if I'd returned. But with my parents' move to Sarasota, Flat Lake wasn't a place on the way to anywhere. I hadn't danced much since the War, but then I'd been pretty busy, my work and all.
I hadn't danced much because a dancer needs a partner. Even in ballet, the great performances are with partners. In journalism, anyway, a partnership isn't two writers each reporting half a story. Both write the whole piece.
I wrote features, not real stories. Probably I'd never get a Pulitzer nomination, but even if I won, my work wouldn't be as real as a piece clumsily crafted for the classifieds. A want ad is in itself a real story because as humans, we want. "Wanted. The rest of myself."
Good reporters follow the leads, but I'd lost mine in Oslo.
I sent Greta a Christmas card in care of Flat Lake Elementary, just a brief note telling her that I was still writing, nothing that she'd see, but still at it. That running into her in Norway was such a coincidence. "Running into" seemed the safest way to put it, the phone booth part. "Being with" was harder to work into a Christmas greeting.
There was no reply, however, and a reporter senses when a lead's gone cold.
1952
I'd missed the others, but would catch my tenth reunion. Not that I had Flat Lake High School ties more than that of yearbook photos, but I wanted to remember the sameness, if just for a weekend.
Some of the '42 girls (the ones I'd not known well, but now seemed less stuck-up) booked the VFW Hall for our get-together. And in towns like Flat Lake, a ten-year reunion means everyone who'd been there a decade back. Sisters stop by to see if their brother's old girlfriend still peroxides. Neighbors look in to see if that Arnold boy's really an engineer. Is Barney's nephew still an alcoholic? Nobody had heard of the Oregonian, but some had been to Colorado.
I'd heard that Clarence married Helen, but didn't know they'd divorced and neither showed up.
Since she'd not answered my card, maybe Miss Hanson had moved. Maybe even stayed in Norway. Or maybe she was in Flat Lake, a mom and member of the Garden Club. Not everything can stay the same.
So when I saw Miss Hanson walking to the Carnegie Library (judging by the books in her string bag), I was unprepared. She'd a blond single braid, a hairstyle not seen on the West Coast except maybe for little girls.
I didn't know if she'd even want me here. Me, the fade-away sixth grader, the off-to-war senior and then the disappearing sailor. She had my number.
But Flat Lake's small. Marked by your rental car, you can't pretend you're elsewhere. I slowed beside the sidewalk. "Want a lift, Miss Hanson?" I wasn't sure why my heart was pounding.
She looked at the strange car, the driver who knew her name. "Andrew!" too spontaneous for the sake of politeness. "Nobody knew if you were coming!"
She'd asked if I were coming?
"The one who's in the papers?" my attempted frivolity.
"Well you are, at least in Oregon," the second syllable pronounced as "gone". In Portland, it's "gun".
When she turned crimson, easy enough to see, I realized it wasn't related to the state. She'd acknowledged my card.
I ignored it. "Hop in." Probably she'd been really busy that holiday season. Didn't matter.
"No, that's OK. I'm almost there." I noticed the absence of a ring on her left hand.
Who knows why, but I stayed. "So I need some exercise, too," pulling to the curb. "So how you been?" my awkward re-start. "Here, let me carry that."
"Seventeen years at it, less my year away." She avoided saying Oslo.
"That long?" to protract the conversation. Maybe I could ask her what she was teaching; sometimes they change around.
"Seems like three," she laughed the laugh I liked. "Kids keep you learning things."
"Like about glaciers," remembering. "Coming to the VFW tonight?"
"Probably. You're all my kids and you remember your first ones best." It had never really clicked with me that I'd had her, her first year.
"So what say I check if they have anything new at the Carnegie and we walk back to my car and I take you to lunch? That's if..." Actually, she'd not even asked me to walk with her.
"At the A&W?" she pretended to frown. "We'll have some lemonade first."
She surely remembers liquors in Oslo, I was certain, but doesn't remember she'd served me that drink ten years ago.
Headed toward her house (which she'd bought, she was pleased to report) she switched on the car radio. "I like Nat King Cole," as she twirled through the one from High Noon and found "Unforgettable".
"Me too," I concurred. Unforgettable is right.
"So you married yet?" looking my way.
"Hardly," wishing not to talk about it.
She stared away. "I'm sorry I didn't answer your card. You didn't say and I didn't want to presume." I'd not mentioned the card. Was my mind that transparent?
And I didn't say what? That I wasn't married? I'd left everything unsaid, actually. You don't write what you're not, not across from a smiling Santa. Maybe I just didn't want to follow the leads.
We were at her driveway. "I'll just drop you off," I decided. Flat Lake wasn't my town anymore. Was Portland, though?
"Because I loved you," she stated, almost voiceless and staring straight ahead. "I didn't answer your card because I loved you."
I didn't move until the fullness hit. "Loved me? When?"
"Then. When you graduated. Before, too. Maybe I didn't know it till Oslo, though." She was still looking ahead, not at me.
I thought of those years and I wanted her to know. "I didn't know what to do," unasked. "I guess I'd never loved anybody."
"Not even in Oslo?" her eyes now on mine. Were there tears? Whose, I don't know.
"Then, yes.""It's part of my life, too." And there were tears, even if invisible.
"Was I a little crazy sometimes?" she suddenly flooded with the lightness of those times.
"That's what my roommates decided," she said, too serious to see the humor.
I was thinking, the funny parts slipping away, "Greta?"
She waited for me to figure it out.
"Maybe what I mean is I've never known... that I've loved anybody." I caught my breath and finished. "So can it make sense that I still love somebody?" If I knew this much, maybe I'd know something.
We'd not been touching, but she took my hand. "It makes sense to me. It's a big old world."
"You always said that, 'A big old world', Greta."
We sat together, remembering, hands still linked.
"Can we... I mean, even if it's the A&W?" The thought of her opening the car door terrified me.
"You dance still?" she asked, starting to sway her braid to Nat King Cole.
"You're the music," I said, pulling her to me.
*****
Her breasts were still so soft.
Of course I'd never hurt a woman. Physically, that is.
Years of pent-up realization burst outward. If I'd spent the decade reliving her touches, replaying my virginity, remembering rolling naked in the Norwegian night for the other girls' ears, the flood might have been expected. Pent-up frustration, some might have called it. But I'd not reclaimed the story until now. What burst out was my need to be completed. Sex was just the vehicle.
At first she seemed frightened. I wasn't the boy she'd erotically enslaved, the graduate she'd initiated, the lover who'd pleased her time after time on the USO mattress. I was a creature bent on consuming her. My erection was all I was.
Probably I did hurt her flesh, but she didn't cry in pain. Her tears were hungry too. I forced my way into her from above, from behind, from below, denying her climax. Maybe she was forbidding the same to me, for no sooner would I prime to impregnate her, than she'd displace me and contort for yet another penetration.
At one point, we bounced our bed so hard that a slat fell from the frame and we took our chances with the rest of the substructure. (Why did I think of it as "our" bed, I didn't process, but it was what she'd laid me upon the first time. I owned it. She owned it. I owned her. She owned me.)
At another point, my penis was in her mouth and I was caressing as far as I could reach between her legs. My chin ploughed through her juices while my tongue probed.
At yet another point, her twisting bent me, but even when it hurt, I didn't care. This wasn't about carnal pleasure; it was about conquest and surrender, both ways for both of us, the blitzkrieg of intercourse.
They say at forty (I didn't believe the number, but it was true), a woman wants her love slow and floating. But Greta, like me, wanted what we'd missed. When we finally let ourselves go, slamming on the bed where she'd once manipulated my boyhood, our skin was awash with smeared semen, sweat, secretions and saliva.
In Oslo, she'd still seemed older, creamy, exotically cool, almost. But here in Flat Lake a dozen years amounted to nothing as I pumped my pubescent reserve into the warmth of teenage virgin.
"Oh, God. I didn't know I still could hit the high note," she said, her self-pleasure so merited.
Not leaving me wonder why she didn't know, "Maybe it's my Lutheran thing, but after you, the ones I slept with in Norway, I mostly had to pretend. The girls where I lived, we'd give each other 'Acting the Big Act' scores," she smiled. "But with you, then it wasn't pretend. That's why my roommates liked to stay."
I didn't smile. It made me sad, the idea of another in her bed, even there.
"Then you're not going to believe this either," she said, to change the subject.
"No, I don't. You were a sailor."
"Easier plumbing, maybe," the Flat Lake maleness not wanting to admit how small the count.
"It was good I went to Norway, Andrew. I had to show myself I could be pretty. It just got old, though, pretending."
"You're very pretty. I knew that the first day you walked in and told us about geology."
And we both knew we were at last telling the truth.
*****
Hardly anybody at the VFW recognized me, at least enough to drag me into the knots of exaggerated recollections. It didn't matter because I had Miss Hanson to talk with. "Greta" sounded odd in the setting. Fortunately, sitting in the corner where they'd stashed the parade flags, the scratches below my ear didn't show. She'd been appalled at our afternoon's carnage and I told her that we couldn't do it again until I was healed.
"So are you all well yet?" she whispered while the classmate with the most kids was applauded. Six, but he'd been married three times.
"I think so."
She reached below the table. "Yea, I think so, too. Bet I still can, if you sit straight."
"Let's dance," I said, to stop her.
After the final toasts, a dozen cars made their individual ways to the lake, dispersing along the shore. From the first-love reunions I'd witnessed at the VFW, I wasn't surprised.
Greta sat on my lap, facing, our bodies connected top and bottom. Neither of us wanted it to end, me as still as when in sixth grade I'd surrendered to the measure of her fingers. Now it was to the rise and fall of her vagina, milking me into her as she flushed in fulfillment.
"Actually," she challenged afterwards, not bothering to redo her stockings, "you wanted me to, there under the table."
"Maybe."
Later that night, after comparing notes on who was who ("That was Kathleen Penner? I didn't recognize her and her last name's different. I thought she was just a spouse."), we floated, me hard and immobile within her until she jostled. When she couldn't hold back any longer and came, the ripples rolled up and down around me, shimmering.
She had to have been internally raw from the afternoon's excesses. Certainly my penis felt so. But climaxing without motion exacerbated none of our abrasions; perhaps we could have loved as joyfully even inches apart, sharing just our eyes. Perhaps I'll never know completeness, but at least I know its taste.
*****
Apparently no teacher at Flat Lake had ever left at forty. What would Miss McGraw have done besides go to church?
We married that Christmas in Flat Lake Lutheran because they were her family. When I twirled her around at the reception (Luther didn't worry about married couples doing it) only us nuptials knew we'd danced to "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!" in Oslo. I'd found the 78.
Atlee at the barbershop noted that my rental parked at Miss Hanson's after the reunion hadn't passed unnoticed. But small town folk can turn an eye if nobody loses money or you aren't relatives.
"She's a little older, right?" as if Atlee didn't know exactly. "She'll make you a good wife, that Miss Hanson. Still pretty as a picture, if you don't mind me saying."
"No sir, I don't mind one bit."
He wouldn't charge for the trim; it was so I'd look like I was still from around these parts, he judged.
1969
A tragic year, an annum that perpetuates a reporter's career. I'd gone to the Chicago Tribune and we lived just a commute westward. Greta, of course, had returned to the classroom. You don't deny what's God-given. The Kent State follow-up was only what I'd learned in the Navy -- follow the leads, assemble the pieces. It shouldn't take the press to do it, though, but that's why they have prizes.
Greta and I still dance and I'm still the student. Kids these days like gyrating to "Honky Tonk Women" or maybe "Bad Moon Rising". I know because of where I go to get my stories. Probably because I stay with my Atlee-style haircut, they trust me. They're confused, these kids, practicing free love in the liberated lecture halls while others take bullets on the Green. Not wrong about the war part, but without the invincible innocence we had when we went to fight. To fight and to love.
I'll never master the tango. Greta's pretty good and can induce standing sex when she leans way back, but that's just in our living room. Of course if she's in a squirrelly mood at a party and somebody throws on a 33, she can make me climax to about any tune. And that's not the worst part. She darkly suggests that a few of her closer friends know when to watch, but won't tell me who they are. I just try not to give it away with my expression.
If they masturbate you at twelve, you're in for a long haul. It's just partly about sex, but that's how you remind each other. She says that her friends who know aren't fooled by my vacant smile and agree I'm great. Great at getting masturbated? I just report what I hear.
Greta and I can dance to "Sweet Caroline" and "Someday We'll Be Together". There's still plenty of good music for lovemaking.
END | null | null | Authors/Holly_Rennick/Dancing_Lessons.txt |
90,834 | Holly Rennick | Seven Seas for Four | Your brain's sharpest when you wake up, Sara's observation about her own, at least. Less clutter. A night's processing on whatever's been mulling around. And anyway, there's not much else to do till the others wake up.
Having to share the hotel bed with her brother (the cover-hog, but at least the bed's big enough) was why her mind's been mulling. He'd been faking sleep when she and Dad got back last night from the light show -- a sister knows that sort of thing -- but once she was sure his sleep was real, she'd felt him through his pajamas. She'd planned to ever since Dad announced that the two would have to share a bed.
Her brother's boner surprised her. He must have been dreaming big time. And it wasn't as if she didn't have some idea of what he'd been dreaming about. Maybe not in detailed form -- though she herself indeed had some first-hand experience -- but at least the subject.
Get it? She laughed at her own joke. First-hand experience! Lots of 13-year-olds hadn't a clue. She could have done it last night after the rest were asleep, except she'd drifted off, too. She could give it a go now, except somebody might wake up.
So let's replay yesterday a bit more, she decided. So interesting!
Interesting that Rob also had a boner at the Pirate Trove Cafe. Easy as pie to tell when he stood up. Order a Tropical Twist at the restaurant today, she reminded herself, as it's neat how they swirl the foam.
Mom seemed to have been footsieing him just before that. If we miss each other at Flagship Light Spectacular, she'd instructed in her listen-to-Mother voice, just meet back at the hotel. A girl can tell when a parent has another agenda and sure enough, Mom and Rob were no-shows.
And then the oddities when they at last got back to the room.
Mom attributing how long it took her to open the door to dozing off while watching TV. But a show about the North Pole? An Oprah special might make sense, but not polar bears.
And then Mom moving the suitcase from her bed to the floor before Dad noticed. Where'd she been dozing?
Talcum powder on Rob's bedspread. Her brother wouldn't use it, that's for sure.
Mom's panties on the floor, and more than that even, beside the wrong bed.
It's one thing to wonder about your brother. It's another to wonder about your mom. And it's entirely something else to wonder about the two of them.
And why would she wonder things? as if she didn't already know. Because Seven Seas is totally about that particular subject. Probably the same for all theme parks, she supposed, but she'd only been to this one.
Which relates, Sara allowed, to the light show. She'd felt the lump when she'd sat on Dad's lap. Even your own dad has a you-know-what. He'd have had one nine months before your birthday, for example. When the fireworks began, she'd snuggled lower, wrapped his arms around her and held them against her chest.
On the hotel shuttle, Sara wasn't sure if the driver's calling her 'Skipper' was good or bad. What the driver didn't notice, she hoped, what that she was maybe a bit old to ride in her father's lap. Sort of drowsing, you might say. She'd wanted to check and sure enough, what happened at the light show happened again.
It's one thing to know that your brother gets boners. It's another thing to feel your father's twice in one evening.
And now there was the day ahead.
Adventures in Seven Seas Adventureland! For sure she'd find more rides she could do in Dad's lap. Plus she'd get him to buy her one of those little sea horses in case she had to do a science fair experiment.
As the rest of the family still wasn't stirring, Sara rose, turned on the TV and let the weatherman wake them up with temperatures. 77 downtown. 74 at the airport. Presumably 70-something at Seven Seas.
"Last day," Sara announced, though of course they already knew it, as she chose her clothes and headed for the bathroom. Better remember her sun visor, if the weatherman was right. Her Italian visor, at least in brand, not something with a smiling octopus.
Breakfast. Shuttle. Seven Seas!
"See you birds later," Rob bid her and Dad adieu as soon as they cleared the main gate, a.k.a. Seven Seas Passports. "Me and Mom want to explore the Sand Castle. Right, Mom?"
"Top of my list," Mom's sudden interest in nautical fortification striking Sara as one more oddity.
Unsurprised at Mom's and Rob's departure, Sara adjusted her bra straps to show better.
"Looks like we're on our own again, Daddy-O."
Submarine Escape was exciting, Dad behind her at the porthole. She knew, of course, that they'd evade the squid. A hunch of her shoulders was all it took to pooch her collar and when the glass reflected Dad eying down her straps, she inhaled to look a size larger.
"Buccaneers dead ahead, mates! Prepare to dive!" ordered the loudspeaker.
Spytower Tree Fort was a cinch, though Dad was slow on the walkway. When they went up the hollow trunk, that's when she bumped herself against Dad's arm. Not too much, of course, but enough to bump. When they had to crawl through the knothole, she sent Dad ahead so he'd see both cups when she emerged. She'd not chosen a crew-neck for no reason.
Maritime Missile was more of a Rob-type thing -- lots of facts about space travel. A real rocket wouldn't have an emergency exit, however. It was in the Sea and Sky Crew Cabin, "Step to the bow, cadets," where Dad brushed her twice the same way -- elbow against the side of her chest, up and over, and then back. Some thirteen-year-olds have more, she'd admit, but others have less.
During the meteor shower she moved to his other arm and let the skyscape sway them. As it was hardly an inch either way, nobody would notice the pattern of her to his left, him to her right and then her to his right, him to her left.
Bumps and brushes weren't anything she'd not had pulled on her at school, especially in the stairwell. She'd set cute guys up to pull it on her a few times, even. Just carry your books beside your hip, is all. But with your dad, it's more accidental, and even if it's not, it's because you're having fun.
Noah's Flood was a series of improbable aquariums. Sea bass circumnavigating the Pyramids. Sea stars on the Great Wall of China. Jellyfish above the Empire State Building, which Sara knew to have been built post-Noah.
Port Starboard was better. Everything was backwards, starting with the entrance labeled TIXE.
Real palms lined the Lilly Pad canal, the ride where Dad touched her knee.
Sailors Hornpipe should have had an apostrophe somewhere in its name, Sara bet, as they'd covered apostrophes in English. When Dad again put his hand on her leg, she laughed at the dancing whalers and turned a tad in his direction.
Rob and Mom had done the Twister yesterday, but they'd not volunteered much information. Dad's arms pinned Sara against his grasp on the pole. Most every guy seemed to be doing the same. 'Ahoy, I'm Todd' -- the attendant, sort of a cute guy -- has to watch a million girls getting felt up, she bet. Probably drives him batty.
Dad wasn't doing that, of course, but it didn't mean that he and she weren't holding on in the same way everybody else was. She hoped he noticed how her bra pushed her together.
You can't be positively certain, but when you twist your butt, you pretty much realize what part of him you're touching.
Interesting, thought Sara. Apparently interesting to about half the girls on the ride, based on how they twisted their butts.
The line for the Tunnel of Mystery would have taken too long, but Sara knew why the older kids thought it worth the wait. It's where you go to make out. From yesterday's reports, Rob and Mom went more than once, the more-than-once only slipping out because they gave different times. Not to fool around, maybe, but then again, it might have been for more than just getting scared.
Sara pictured Mom slipping Rob a little kiss, him pretending to not like it, then kissing her back. If the line hadn't been so long, Sara would have let Dad captain their way into the mysterious darkness.
She clutched her father's elbow to steer him to Speedboat Speedway. As the passed the snow-cone kiosk -- sort of an igloo -- she didn't ask for one, but tugged his arm again across her front.I'd not expected Maritime Missile to be so packed, Phil judged, but we probably weren't in violation of whatever law applies to overcrowding in public rockets. Counsel for Seven Seas probably wrote the law, anyway.
In any case, that's where I brushed Sara's breast, the first time, that is. It wasn't my fault, how the show made us sway as we circumnavigated Jupiter. So firm and so conic.
A guy's arms around a girl seemed de rigueur on the Twister, but that's because the ride was for high school truants. Hold the post and let her press against your hands. Confusing about who's doing what, some of these rides.
I watched a boy feel up a woman old enough to be his teacher, her nipples more-or-less "Push to Start." I'd once read an English teacher's story that ends in her bedroom; the kid hardly knew what was coming, but did great. As the two I was watching seemed to share facial features, perhaps she was his aunt, not his teacher. There's another story about a boy whose aunt's a librarian, but they do it by a lake, not in the library, as you might expect. In any case, this aunt, or whoever she was, didn't catch me watching.
A ride like the Twister is for pretending you don't know exactly what the ride's about. About half of Seven Seas seemed to be fun things for little kids and the other half, another kind of fun for older kids. Two target merchandising groups, I suppose: one sporting junior pirate hats; the other, sporting tank tops.
In any case, Sara's shirt was indeed what got rubbed when the Twister twisted her one way and me the other. I'd have been surer about her nipples if she'd just been in one of those tank tops, but I was pretty sure anyway.
I hoped my erection wasn't obvious. Given our velocity, nobody could have seen, but there were also her bounces into my front side. No hope of twisting away, however.
"That one looks super fun," Sara next decided, a cone nudging me toward Speedboat Speedway.
A theme park can try to make a silk purse from a sow's ear, but this one still looked like bumper cars. Tugboats on wheels, maybe. Vespa tires for bumpers, as the point's to ram your way.
"Sure, hon," rediscovering her nipple.
At least this was a ride of the younger-child variety. If bumper cars are what Sara wants to do, fine, as I could use a few minutes to clear my mind.
"You help me drive, okay?"
"You're not that little," though I didn't say why.
Sara flashed her smile, the one that's hard to overrule. "I'm just thirteen," surprising, as she usually claims to be old enough for anything.
And that's how I ended up in the driver's seat, daughter on my lap.
"Keep her in the speedway, Dad" advised 'Ahoy, I'm Zoe,' the college-type attendant who seemed well-accustomed to all possibilities of driver/passenger duos. Catching me eying her chest, she flicked her tongue and grinned. As the 'Ahoy, I'm Zoes' of the world can get you in trouble, however, it's better to pursue your adventures through adult literature.
Sara missed few opportunities to vehicular whack those foolish enough to cross our bow, but at a couple of miles per hour, collisions weren't like the rides that damage your internal organs.
Sara had the wheel to hold and I, her. At first I held her sides, but as the seat wasn't that deep, I'd a better perch around her waist. As Speedboat Speedway wasn't teen-oriented, any higher might have violated the rules, but 'Ahoy, I'm Zoe,' probably wouldn't have cared.
"That's better," Sara agreed.
Perched over Sara's shoulder -- same as on the submarine -- I couldn't help but now and then glancing downward. More often than on the submarine, actually, as whenever a collision slammed her backward, the top of her bra gapped in peek-a-boo manner.
There's no way you can't look.
Strawberries perched on shallow slopes. I say this not because I dwelt on the view, not because the lift of my arm prolonged the moment of observation, but only as a metaphor. In most stories, girls even younger than Sara have large breasts, but other than height, Sara hadn't had the rest of her growth spurt.
And how can you not notice pubescence? The linear hips. The elevation of the breasts. When collars blossom open, the little white cups. Or to be particular, when the little white cups blossom open, the ripening fruit. There are thousands of stories about Lolitas, but except for the original, they're mostly about professionally-endowed young ladies.
What I didn't intend was to park my other hand on her stomach. When I realized where I was -- out of sight beneath the dashboard, but even still! -- I of course retreated, but that's when we sideswiped a grade-schooler under parental tutelage and my hand returned beneath the dash.
I again would have moved away, but that's when we careened off the next competitor.
"Got 'em!" laughed Sara, ignoring my perch now on the waist of her shorts -- the ones she wore for soccer -- as she spun the wheel for drama.
How can I help it if a finger or two drifted onto the fabric?
Nylon slides so smoothly over cotton. I say "cotton," but maybe her panties were also of something synthetic. Whatever they were made of, the contours within started not that far below the hem.
Don't, I warned myself, but not until I'd made the journey.
She doesn't feel me, not at all, I told myself, beginning to search. I'm just a backseat driver, except one in the same seat. A backseat driver taking a secret drive.
Sara laughed at a near miss as we ricocheted off the guardrail, splaying her knees for stability.
In many stories, this is exactly how things start, inadvertent contact through clothing. I wouldn't think that Sara would know about these stories, however, as they inevitably lead to sex.
She steered with utmost concentration.
Thank God that driving keeps her mind occupied! It wasn't as if I were doing anything, but I'd not have wanted her to wonder what I was doing.
My hand cuddling her shorts reduced my defenses against her butt cuddling my trousers, but as she didn't recognize where I was, she'd also miss its effect. It was like touching mounds on the Twister, except this time I was lower and she was slower.
It's one thing for a dad to discover how much his daughter's grown; it's another for a daughter to discover how much her dad can grow.
So oh God! when I realized how exactly the rock of her backside matched the rhythm of my finger and how fully the roll of her rear massaged the jut of my lap.
Is she feeling what I'm doing? What it's doing to me? Maybe I could blame my hand on the crashes, but that reason wouldn't fly for my other part.
Oh God! as her thighs trapped my hand and she shifted higher onto my trousers.
Who will she tell? Park security? Her mother? My fate will be identical. Today wasn't supposed to be like this!
No, Sara, I wanted to plead. It's not what you think. I'm... I'm just...
I'd want to stop immediately, but it's easier said than done when your hand can't get away and her butt's beginning to call the shots. You can only hope that if you climax, your boxers will soak it up.
"This is so fun!" Sara laughed, waving at the parents who let their kids drive alone.
And then I saw that she was referring to the driving. It's so much fun driving! So focused on steering, she's missing the rest! Moving her butt is just from the ride! She doesn't know a thing!
Thank God!
Slow down, I'd liked to have told her, finding the crease within the softness.
"Move over, buster," she yelled at a precocious ten-year-old who blocked our path.
My fingertip nestled the head of the divide as we hit the straight-away.
'Ahoy, I'm Zoe' flashed us a thumbs-up as we sped by.
As Sara aimed our vehicle -- aiming, more than steering, being her style when the traffic thickened -- I hoped my demeanor appeared causal to the watching parents.
Was I doing something I shouldn't? Not that much, just letting our tosses and turns decide how much to furrow. When her legs open, then trap and then again open, however, it's difficult not to seize each opportunity.
You can't feel every little thing through nylon and whatever, but you know when you've found the clitoris. Not by its form, of course -- it's way too tiny -- but by the reaction.
It wasn't that I'd planned to. It wasn't that I'd even chosen to. It was her driving that made me.
"Here we go!" announced my daughter, bouncing as we sped on until finally she thrust backwards, maybe three times, even, slumped her shoulders and decelerated.
My God! as her wiggles subsided.
Was that what I thought it was? It seemed totally impossible, but at the same time, how maybe a girl her age might climax. No theatrics. No admission. Just unabashed spirit.
It seemed impossible that it was I who made her, but maybe I'm just reticent because she's my daughter.
But oh God! If that's what it was, how could I have let myself? I was just playing around, not trying to make her do anything.
What's she going to say?
The consequences, I wouldn't even want to imagine. Kathy might understand about my erection, but no excuse was going to fly regarding a masturbation. They'd probably call it child abuse, something like that. They'll call me a molester, put me in jail.
But -- hope against hope -- she could have twitched for any sort of reason, something related to driving, perhaps. Is she even old enough? Would she even have recognized what it was?
The possibility of her not comprehending was my life preserver. Maybe nothing will happen. Not with park security. Not with my wife. Home free!
Or maybe, even, what happened wasn't quite as criminal as I'd feared. Helping your daughter orgasm -- if that's what it was -- maybe her first one, even, well, what can you say?"Driving's rad," Sara's summary as we extracted ourselves from the vehicle, her hand on my thigh to steady herself. Maybe not only on my thigh, but she was so quick I wasn't sure. You're so sensitive at times like this that even your fly can goose you.
"Ahoy, I'm Zoe," bid us adieu with an appraisal of my front pocket, tongue flick and grin. I could only hope that the wrinkles masked the persistence of my state. There's a whole genre of stories about erections in public places. Some are first-person, even, but they still may be fiction.
Somebody could probably write a story about what Zoe sees on a daily basis.
"Thanks for the ride," grinned the driver, her eyes momentarily following Zoe's.
***
When the four met for Buccaneer Burgers and to coordinate evening plans, Sara bet they'd remain as already paired.
As yesterday, Mom seemed to sit a bit too close to Rob. Sara couldn't actually tell, but it sure looked as if they were again touching toes. Mom talked too loud and Rob stared too long at distant objects. You guys can't fool me, she'd liked to have told them.
"Going to catch the light show?" Mom suggested, same as yesterday with her such-a-fun-idea voice.
"Maybe," Sara allowed. "How 'bout you?"
"We'll head back. Long day, you know, but you and Dad will really like it!"
Illogical. The show's so great and posters say is different each evening, but no, they'll skip it. Not that Mom's super logical, but "long day," baloney! It's some sort of plan.
I'll play, too, Sara decided. "You're right about a long day. We'll head back, too. Okay, Dad?"
Dad looked disappointed, but this game wasn't about him.
Mom took the bait. "If you're getting tired, yeah, you'd better head back," pausing a moment. "You still want to see the light show, Rob? I'm up to it."
"Sure," agreed Rob with sudden interest.
"Okay," Mom settled it, then turned to Dad, "See you two back at the place, darling. We'll maybe be a little late."
"There's lasers," Sara assured, pleased with the outcome.
Pleased and a little wiser. Dad and I decide to go back, she noted, and then those two decide to stay. There's a reason.
"We'll probably find a National Geographic show," Sara added, not because she cared about lions and iguanas, but to check reactions. And sure enough, Mom gave Rob a smile.
At least the shuttle bus driver didn't call her 'Skipper' again, as she was too old for that sort of thing. She led Dad to the rear seat, at first planning to plop onto his lap, but after further consideration, wormed her way beside him as if to sleep.
Once the bus left the curb -- "All aboard for Seven Seas Inn and Conference Center" -- it took little time for Dad's arm to find what she knew it was looking for. As on the rocket ride, the sway of the vehicle rocked him back and forth across her, but there it was his elbow and here it was the inside of his forearm. On the rocket ride, she'd tried to seem bigger, but now she needn't bother.
Okay, Daddy-O, Sara ruled. Big games begin as little ones. We'll call this one, "Pirate!"
Anchors Away!
Merchantman on the horizon! announced Pirate Lookout Sara in the crow's nest to Pirate Captain Sara at the wheel.
All hands on deck -- though she'd only be using her left one -- and full speed ahead! she now commanded, or whatever you say when you wear an eyepatch, faking a swash-buckling yawn as she slid her hand onto the merchantman's thigh. As close as she'd had to snuggle for Dad's arm to find her, it wasn't as if she had to reach particularly far. The corduroy felt fuzzy.
Dad didn't seem to notice, but maybe that was because he was secretly touching her breast. Old pirate trick -- let the merchantman think he's the pirate for a while.
In range, maybe how they say it, Sara guessed. Raise the Jolly Roger and fire at will!
Dad for sure noticed now and blocked her up-thigh advance with a quick placement of his hand which Sara pretended to be lace cuffed.
Probably thinks that her hand's inadvertent, she figured. Fine by her, him thinking that. By the time he realizes it's for real, he'll be too far gone to stop it.
Shiver me timbers and fire again, she commanded herself, counting to ten for suspense. She wasn't exactly sure what "shiver me timbers" meant, but it sounded fierce.
Again he intervened, but this time only to deflect her onto his pocket. Through the corduroy she could feel the room key. No need to wait for that, though.
Bring her alongside, Matey, she commanded herself, docking against his fly and counting to five. "Along side. A long side." She'd want to remember that one.
Not to her surprise, his defense had crumbled to little more than feathering above her knuckles.
Prepare to board! this time not bothering to count to anything.
He'd by now shut his eyes.
Surrender, kind sir, or we'll send you to Davy Jones' Locker! Don't worry, she'd liked to have added. Nobody will ever know about our pirate game, how bravely you defended your honor. You've just met your sea-going match, is all.
Up we go, the prize now hers for the taking. Only after she'd ascertained its magnitude did she began to rub.
Dad's covering hand would shield her piracy from prying eyes, though she doubted the other passengers would turn around. And even if they did, they couldn't see below the seatback. They probably call it a bulkhead on a boat bus, though. "Privateering in private," another one to remember.
She of course knew he'd be the way he was, but was none-the-less impressed with its firmness. Pleased with its rigidity, of course, but equally pleased with her seagirlship.
When you rob a bank, it occurred to her, you need to skedaddle. When you capture a treasure ship on the high seas, on the other hand, you can hang around a while. You can count the jewels.
Corduroy's fun, she decided, running up and down the parallel ribs. As Dad was angled a little bit toward his near pocket, however, she had to decide between many little ridges or one big one. As the latter had so much more to offer, it won.
Probably lots of treasure's been captured on the shuttle bus to the hotel, she supposed. A day at Seven Seas would do that. Probably most often, though, the pirate's not the lassie.
***
Am I supposed to act like this is accidental, Phil wondered? That I don't notice? That it doesn't make me react? It's sort of possible, I guess, if she'll let me pretend.
But oh, God, Sara! What you're doing is hardly pretending!
The turnaround was disquieting, but what could I do? She'd not be doing what she's doing if I hadn't done it to her. She'd not be reminding me.
There's the role that goes with being a father and there's your masculine response. The boundary's not at all clear-cut. One part of you says no and another part of you says something else. The part saying something else, of course, was the part she was touching.
It would be one thing if it were accidental. Daughter bumps father, discovers something surprising and that's that. It's another when it's deliberate. Daughter bumps father and shows him what she can do.
The only thing to do is try to forget the stories about guys coming in their pants, often when they're standing before a large audience. Unfortunately, I've read scores. Then there are the ones about guys prevented from coming who end up as slaves.
Oh God, Sara! At least pay attention that nobody sees.
***
As Dad hovered close when they entered the hotel, Sara knew their secrecy was secure. She could have made him come -- everybody said it was easy -- but she didn't think it a good idea on the shuttle. He might have done something embarrassing. She could have finished him off on the elevator, but they might have stopped for more passengers. After he knows you can make him, you can probably do it about anywhere.
She herself could have climaxed perfectly on the bus ride -- same as at Speedboat Speedway -- but that wasn't the plan.
As soon as the two entered their room, Sara switched on the TV.
Some hotels get adult channels, but apparently not this one. Too family friendly, maybe. Such a shame, as she'd have left it there and watched Dad pretend to read the Visitor's Guide. That would be rad, watching him pretending to study the parking lot map while the actress made ooh and ahh sounds.
There were millions of movie channels, but nothing worth watching. Once when their folks were out, she and Rob saw an un-cut "Leaving Las Vegas" with the woman-on-top scene, but they never talked about it. That would be rad, too, asking Dad what if actors were acting.
Not even ballet on the Arts Channel or swimming on a sports one, two places for uncensored sexual shapes. "Hey, Dad," she imagined saying. "That girl on the left, the one with the buttons inside her swimsuit."
A travelogue about animals of Argentina was good enough, however. Her friend Laura was on a family vacation and could hear their neighbors humping through the motel wall. They probably don't have polar bears in Argentina, but she saw a parallel to last evening. Background broadcast.
Sara hooked the door chain in case Mom and Rob made an early return. Fat chance, though, given the supper-time footsie. The light show would have lots of places to do whatever. Mom on Rob's lap seemed ludicrous, but who knows?
"Wanna' do it together?" in what she hoped sounded a casual tone.
"Huh?"
"You know what," as she pulled up her shirt. Dad had seen her bra lots of times, not just today, but now she'd let him look without pretending otherwise.
Dad looked alarmed as she reached to undo the hooks. "Sara, maybe you'd better..."
Usually she just spun the thing around, but figured that wouldn't look very grownup.
"We got time," as she revealed herself.
"Listen, you can't...""Keep up the momentum," she told herself. "You had a boner on the Twister."
"What?"
"Plus when you made me come."
"When I what?"
Too rattled to deny the boner, she noted. Excellent.
"You know, masturbated me while I was driving," diving to the point. She couldn't believe she'd said the word, but once out, she liked how it sounded. Using the proper word gives you authority, something she learned in English.
"Wait a minute!"
"Naughty Daddy-O," she reflected with mock sternness, shaking her finger for effect, then letting it wilt and after staring at it dramatically, watching it reassume its angle. Her stagemanship made her giggle. Maybe "stagegirlship," she decided.
Dad's protest, "It wasn't what you think," was less than convincing.
"Wasn't what?" touching the extended finger with another. "Me coming or you making me do it?"
"You can't..."
She liked how quickly things were moving and dropped the finger-pointing. "The girl who works there watched."
"Watched what?"
"Me come."
Dad seemed dazed.
"It was like, total!" she added before cranking up her offense. "You wanted me to do it back, right? The pirate game."
"The pirate what?"
"On the bus," as she didn't want to explain the sea stuff.
"I was sleeping."
Okay, Sara decided, pleased with his fall-back to ignorance. We'll say you were sleeping when the pirates attacked.
"I was just checking," she fibbed. Denying Dad's orgasm took lots of work on her part. It had been sort of fun, though, walking him to the end of the plank so many times.
"I'm your father, for Christ's sake."
"You really need to, right? Now, I mean. Wanna' get on the bed?"
"Are you kidding?"
"We can talk and stuff."
"I can't just..."
"Maybe both of us, then."
"Both of us what?"
"Masturbate," the word now on the table. "It'll be rad, doing it together!"
"What if...?"
Perfecto! at having so smoothly transformed him to co-conspirator.
"They're at the light show," she assured, though what exactly Rob and Mom were doing at the light she could only speculate.
"You sure?"
They'll be late, she could have told him, but only said, "You can't put it in me, though."
"Huh?"
"Just on my outside," in case he'd not understood. Dads can be so dense.
***
Is this for real? Phil wondered. Maybe a little something happened on a ride or two, but it wasn't like I'd planned it. Sure, I'd had a hard-on, but how was I supposed to know that she even knew what one is?
It's one thing, of course, to have masturbated your daughter on Speedboat Speedway. It puts a different light on it, though, when she tells you she liked it and 'Ahoy, I'm Zoe' with the peek-a-boo nipples watched.
Sure, she'd played with me when we were riding the bus, but just through my corduroys. It wasn't like the story about the guy who got manhandled by a whole volleyball team. The setter got to be the finisher. The rest were taller and prevented his escape.
Oh, my aching balls!
"Listen..." I paused, swallowed, then tried again. "What happened, you know, wasn't, you know..."
"Wasn't what?" as if she didn't understand perfectly.
"You know, maybe something sort of..."
But again she cut me off. "You don't have to take off your pants or anything."
"We can't just..."
"This one's yours," showing me which pillow.
We lay side-by-side, my shoulder, her pillow, my arm around her enough to cup one breast as she palmed the other. Sure, maybe I'd felt through her shirt a bunch today, but I never thought I'd touch skin.
Her nipples were maroon M&Ms. The regular ones, not the peanut variety.
My other hand, at her insistence, was inside my own trousers. I know it sounds impossible, your daughter making you, but I'd no choice. I of course wasn't about to masturbate, but it was good to straighten the thing out.
"Show me how," she demanded.
Pulling up and down felt pretty nice. I wasn't exposing myself, as she couldn't see anything but the motion.
Sara gave a grin, slipped off her shorts and shoved her hand into her panties. For some reason, at the speedway I'd thought of them as white, but in fact they were pink, pink with little white polka dots.
From my vantage point I could see the wisps beneath her palm. Brunettish-blonde or blondish-brunette, depending on the light. I'd assumed she'd have hair, but didn't really know how much. I guess she must have been lifting her wrist to let me find out. Like with her panties, the color surprised me; I'd have thought it would be black like Kathy's.
"We should come at the same time," she suggested, repositioning her hips for improved access. Coming at the same time struck me as good, though I wasn't sure I could last that long.
Masturbating along side my daughter! Her knuckles rippling under the polka dots. Before today, the thought would have been inconceivable. Before today.
After we'd established our respective techniques, however, she announced -- ordered, maybe -- "How 'bout each other?" guiding me to her waistband. I could have declined, but at some point you start to go along. I'd not have reached inside, except for the fact that that's where she'd been.
"Like at the speedway," she instructed.
Oh God! How could a girl her age be so primed?
Every girl has a clitoris, of course, but how many even understand what it's for? Ones like Sara who know about masturbation, I suppose. Plus lesbians, but I don't often read that line of stories. In any case, Sara's was easy to fondle.
I wondered about her hymen -- maybe more of a concern in a bygone era, I suppose -- but as I'd promised not to go inside, I couldn't really check.
Masturbating my daughter! I tried to tread lightly, or perhaps better said, tried to comply with her wishes.
I was apprehensive as she worked on my belt. When she reached into my boxers and took hold, however, it seemed I passed the test.
"Wow, Dad! You really need to."
Please, Sara! Don't make me do anything I'll regret.
Ultimately, though, it wasn't as if I'd much say.
The longer she could prolong it, instinct must have told her, the more I'd need it. I once read a story about a speeder who got handcuffed by a motorcycle policewoman. He didn't get a ticket, which was only fair, since she wasn't really a policewoman.
She turned her gaze to better observe -- she had enough of me exposed for a head-on view, I guess you could say -- but what could I do?
"How'm I doing?" as she teased out my own wetness.
When I finally came -- all the way onto her breasts, actually -- she climaxed against my finger. At Speedboat Speedway, she'd just lurched. Here she bounced almost off the mattress.
As my daughter foretold, I admit with admiration, the two of us finished in tandem.
We both needed a minute to settle down.
"You okay, hon?"
"Jesus Christ, Dad! That was totally great!"
Normally I'd have said something about that sort of language -- I'm not sure I'd ever even heard her talk that way, actually -- but in this case, well, how to put it? When you've just made your girl come like a banshee, you can't follow it with a Sunday School lesson.
Me! I'd made her orgasm like that! Her dad! Who would even believe it?
So let's face it. We're supposed to think that it's all about intercourse, but maybe that's not so with a thirteen-year-old. When she's your daughter, at least.
I apologized for the mess as she swiped a streak of semen off her abdomen, but it was okay by her, she pointed out, as it biodegrades. I guess they think more about such things these days.
It didn't occur to me until later that putting it where I think she put it wasn't very smart, but maybe it was already biodegraded.
She'd have made me come again but for the fact I needed a little break. Kathy's more realistic, at least, one thing you can say for a grown woman. In unrealistic stories, the guy has no limit. Take, for example, the one about a high school newspaper reporter who keeps statistics for the football team and ends up riding the rally squad bus. A touchdown every time!
"Better wash up," Sara declared as she exited my side.
"Go ahead."
"You can wash my back. We'll wear underpants."
I hadn't realized that she'd meant together. While the underpants idea seemed silly, given what we'd already done inside each other's, there was still something to be said for modesty. But oh, God! Hadn't we done too much already?
She left the bathroom door ajar and revved up the water. "You want lavender?"
"What?" as the shower made it sound like, "You want lavender?"
"The kind of soap. Hurry up."
Through the shower door I could see that she was shampooing. On Speedboat Speedway, I'd glimpsed her breasts, and in the bedroom, of course seen them totally. But through the glass they looked rounder. Maybe it was because they were sudsy, though I wasn't sure what difference that would make.
"Forget the underpants," from the steam.
"You're in yours," as I could see that much through the glass. They'd been part of the deal.
"Yours won't dry out."
I guess she had a point, as Kathy would wonder about wet ones. I dropped my shorts and stepped in.
"Wild rose," she identified the shampoo, acting as if she'd seen me naked a million times before.
What could I say as she wild-rosed beneath the pink panties with white dots? When she opened the elastic to rinse, the exposed curls seemed darker than brunettish-blonde or blondish-brunette or whatever. Maybe because of being wet, I wondered.
She interrupted my gaze. "My back, remember?"
What could I say as she worked her spine against me while I lathered her shoulders and then stood on tiptoe to entrap me between her cheeks?My penis hit her mid-stomach when she turned to face me, maybe even higher, given its inclination. She pretended not to notice, then grinned at her effect. With Kathy, I'd never have gotten hard again so quickly, but Sara seemed to have a way.
I wished I'd thought to turn off the lights.
"Needs more soap," she said as she wild-rosed my balls, wagging me across her forearm in the process. I had the distinct impression that she was using her arm as a ruler and would later use her school ruler to get it in inches.
"Don't you think...?" I managed as she reached underneath to soap my butt.
"Lots to wash," she said matter-of-factly as she returned to my front and took hold in much the manner she'd done on the bed.
My way or the highway, I could hear her saying as she circumnavigated my authority with the soft side of the soap bar.
"Nice and slippery," as if I needed to be told.
Was she just seeing how much I could take?
It's not that I minded her appreciation of what I had to offer. It was more her forwardness. Who did she think was in charge of things?
"The shower's a good place," she advised, again rising to her tiptoes, but this time also pushing me downward.
A good place? A good place to wash? Of course, but you wouldn't bother to say that. If you're nice and slippery, a good place to...? my thoughts increasingly swayed by her proximity.
Oh, to pin that slithery little body to the wall and find out about her hymen!
Times like this are when guys do all sorts of things. New things. There are fewer stories set in showers than in bathtubs, but actually we were in both. I tried not to think about the tale involving a niece at her uncle's snowed-in cabin. The tub was claw-footed, not relevant to what happened in it, but the type of detail one remembers.
"Sara," I attempted. "I don't think..."
"Yeah, they're coming back pretty soon, but how 'bout for my birthday?"
"Your birthday?"
"When you put it in me."
"What?"
"You know, like..." she said, squeezing to demonstrate. "Except with not my hand," in case I missed the point.
Oh God! She wants to have sex!
"But maybe just part way," she added as an afterthought.
She wants to have sex, but just part way? Hey, wait a minute! I do all the work and have to stop "just part way?" Who does this kid think she is, telling me how far? What this bossy little teenager needs is...
Sara interrupted the re-establishment of male privilege with, "I'm the monkey and you're the tree."
When she hooked around my shoulders to shinny up my chest, I, once more as second in command, had no choice but to steady her.
Oh God! as she climbed to where my penis nuzzled a polka dot. Through the cotton, she felt wide enough and I was hard enough. Lowering her just an inch wouldn't really...
"Not till my birthday, remember?" she giggled, pulling just out of reach.
And that's when the hallway door started banging.
And that's where I'd draw the line, anyway. You don't do it with your daughter, not all the way, I mean, not even though she's made you nice and slippery.
Why not? Well, it's against the law, for one thing, though maybe not if it's just a plan. Our church doesn't allow it, but I read about one where the preacher impregnated his daughters because as God's apostle, it kept them virgin. The cops got him for welfare fraud, less subjective than theology. Such stories are in the regular newspaper and the guy usually has a beard.
Then there are the practicalities. I still wasn't sure about the hymen thing, but I'd read stories about young girls -- younger than Sara, some of them. Basically, just get them relaxed and enter slowly.
Although it didn't matter one iota to me, not one bit, I'd never actually popped a cherry. Could have, of course, except for the fact that Kathy rode horses as a youngster. Lots of girls, as she explained, get theirs broken that way. Of course I'd not think of Sara in terms of popping anything; it would just be taking care of what horse riding might have done.
I'd have to wear a rubber, the kind with lubrication. Maybe, though, it would be better for a popping to feel exactly what I was up against. Having nothing between us would be more personal, as well. Maybe what to do would be to have one handy, but to make the decision based on how things were going.
A major challenge, of course, would be keeping this from her mom. Kathy's pretty conventional. We'd need to change the sheets, but maybe Sara could do that, as she knows more about the washing machine.
Not that we'd have sex, but it's good practice to make a check-list. I'd want to get some of that gel they talk about. I didn't know if girls Sara's age can have multiple orgasms, but I'd bet so for Sara. We'd want at least an hour.
Later in bed, that's when I realized why Kathy, too, had been tardy in opening the door. Last night was a no-brainer, actually. She'd caught Rob jerking off, told him not to worry, it's natural, yada-yada, and ended up being nature's helper. I've read stories about mothers finding out, but didn't think in real life they'd actually cooperate.
The thought of Kathy masturbating Rob was disconcerting -- it should be, damn it -- but having successfully masturbated Sara twice myself, I knew how things can get going.
I tried not to picture Kathy doing Rob, but the exercise was counterproductive. How long did she spy a while before announcing herself? Did she let him touch her? She probably did him again today in the Tunnel of Mystery, them along with all those teenagers. She must be as horny as hell.
The more I pictured the two -- Rob feeling her up as he shot onto her sleeve -- the more I had to show Kathy the real deal -- a big O from someone who can deliver. Someone with years of experience. Someone who's read lots.
Not to my surprise, Kathy was ready the moment I touched her thigh. Wow, Phil! I could feel her saying. Show me what that great big honkin' rod of steel can do! Now!
Sure, babe, I imagined myself answering back. Do I ever have something for you!
Given the kids, I tried to stay noiseless, but she grabbed my shoulders, slammed me against her and fucked me as if we'd the whole hotel to ourselves. Shoot! I'd have thought she'd have wanted me to decide a few things, but it's hard to know in advance.
I hoped the kids were asleep. If not, they'd be masturbating. Never read a story about that one, though.But it's not like most fathers couldn't be swayed, even ones as unimaginative as Phil. Sara had her reason for showing her bra straps this morning. The thin little things! She'd have watched what other kids were doing on some of the rides. What happened on the bed was probably more her doing than his.
Probably they did it while the fireworks were exploding. Probably everybody in the hotel was doing it.
What happened wasn't okay, though. Absolutely not! Period!
But face it, she'd laid Rob last night, sort of similar. Her orgasm was as good as one from her husband, and Rob's now got one less thing to worry about. Things like this happen when you just kick back.
Actually, she had to admit, her orgasm had been better than one from Phil. More serendipitous. More adventurous, as after all, it's Seven Seas Adventureland. She hoped Phil's sex with Sara wasn't as great, though. Special, sure, it being in a hotel and everything, but Sara wouldn't have done much back.
At least she'd worked yesterday so Rob thought it was his doing. Unless maybe, well, who knows? On the boat ride, did showing her nipples make him notice or did his noticing make them poke out? Difficult to assign responsibility when sex is involved.
But even still, darn it, there's no way the other two should have just gone and done it! A girl needs advice, as birth control is confusing when you're starting out. Just don't let on that you know whose sperm you're talking about. You of course don't tell your husband that you know what's in the works, but you tell him how amazing he is when you're on top.
Kathy couldn't be certain about Sara's "starting out," of course, but moms have a way of knowing. If Sara hadn't been exactly a virgin, she hoped Phil hadn't caught it. Thinking that Sara was would help his self-esteem.
Who would have thought that she and Phil would take their kids to bed just one day apart? It's not as if you're not still a parent, but you can't always be just one thing. A crazy place, a theme park -- riding rides and having sex.
How Rob kept her aroused most of yesterday, how he'd sneaked open her nightgown and tried to screw her secretly, how Sara seemed so pleased with her own accomplishment -- so many thoughts played upon Kathy's own stirrings.
Darn those Mormons deciding to sit behind her and Rob! She should have screwed him then and there and shown them that it's not just an temple ritual, or whatever. Darn those brats on in the Tunnel of Mystery! Seven Seas needs an 'Ahoy, I'm Whoever' to enforce age limits. It would be like the movies, though -- "unless accompanied by parent."
Ohmygod, did she need it! Women need it most of all! Something to bring things back to when you were younger, something your husband can crow about next morning. Right now, Phil, not tomorrow!
Sara and Rob in the room complicated things, of course, but they were asleep.
Well, what if they're not? Parents have sex; what's new about that? If your kids are old enough to do it themselves, they obviously know their folks do it, too.
"Long day," she announced to no one in particular as she flipped the radio -- one of those hotel-room models with oversized numbers -- to an easy listening station.
"Something to wind us down," cranking up the volume of a John Denver hit for which she knew all the lyrics. Too bad he died.
"Lights out, all."
When Phil touched her thigh, she knew she'd get her way. Making him forget they were sharing the room took little more than coaxing him her direction. They'd make love all night, kids or no kids. If you can't cut lose at Seven Seas, you might as well stay home.
Sara understood Mom's intent with the radio volume, though not the choice of Elton John. Noise provides cover. But Mom wouldn't let her bed squeak louder than the music unless she thought everybody else was into it, too. Mom had seen the messed-up bed and Dad looked guilty. Viola!
It's not right, though, getting zero credit from Mom for keeping Dad from doing the real thing. Not that getting masturbated wasn't pretty fun, but holding it at that sure took work.
She pondered the unfairness of it all.
Well shoot! If your mother thinks that you're an adult -- that you've already had sex, to be specific -- why not go ahead and be one? It's not like you're not totally ready.
Which of course begged the question about her brother. Mom's doing it in front of them both makes it seem that she's not doubtful about him, either.
Sara held back until her folks seemed past the point of no return. Sex does that, she observed, gets you where you can't turn back. Everybody's got that point. At Speedboat Speedway, Dad got her there even through her shorts. The girl running the ride gave her a thumbs-up for being able to continue driving.
Sara wasn't sure about that point for a guy, though. She'd gotten Dad close on the shuttle, but not let him finish. On the bed, though, there was no turning him back. Getting him almost there in the shower was pretty fun, especially telling him, "just part way."
If the others hadn't shown up right then, well maybe she'd have passed her own point and anything else wouldn't have been her fault. She should have taken off her panties, just in case.
Listening to her folks made her wonder if her mother's point was perhaps perpetual. How else could she keep going and going?
Rob was awakened by a poke to his ribs. Rudely awakened, as a matter of fact. He'd been dreaming, something about being in front of the school assembly and Mom being the principal, except that she was an Eskimo and he'd lost his pants but she was the only one who knew that and they were in a secret castle and...
But he was enough awake to feel Sara's knee against his hard-on. Oh shit!
"They're doing it!" she whispered.
"What?" more concerned with her knee than who else was doing what.
"The deed, dummy."
"What?" trying to ignore the press of her leg.
"Shush!" Between James Taylor, the hum of air conditioning and the squeaks of the folks' mattress, however, there wasn't much reason to whisper.
Once Rob listened, he knew exactly. Holy crap! Dad's fucking Mom! Here in the room!
"Right?" Sara pursued.
But wait a minute. He'd screwed Mom last night, gave her a super fuck. She'd said so, more or less. Sure, he'd a few things to work on, but it wasn't as if he'd really needed her help. He'd have screwed her a bunch more today, but she kept making excuses. So how come now she's letting Dad?
The wiggle of Sara's knee broke his train of thought. "Pretty long, right?"
"What?"
A giggle. "How long they're going, bozo."
His sister had him and Rob knew it. If he'd have been quicker, he could have perhaps escaped, but maybe he'd first let her knee him a little more. You ought to be nice to your sister.
"That's how she wants it," he pointed out in what he hoped was the voice of experience.
Listening to Dad fuck Mom and letting Sara feel his hard-on made sense to do at the same time.
Sara met no objection when she sprung her brother out of his PJ bottoms. No objection in a real sense, that it. He'd whispered, "Don't," but she knew he meant the opposite.
Past the point of no return for him, too, the certainty enhancing her own anticipation. It's neat to have your brother in the palm of your hand, so to speak. You've still got your other hand for yourself.
"You did it with Mom?" she pursued, stroking in the same way that made Dad go along. Uncertain of how far the "it" might have progressed, vagueness was safer. Masturbation, like her and Dad? Given that Mom didn't now seem to care that they were in the same room, at least that far.
Rob's "Maybe" still didn't say what it was.
"She wanted you to, right?" playing to ego.
"Yeah."
"Shush or they'll hear. When?" giving him enough of a pull to demand an answer.
"Careful! Before you got back."
"Which bed?" holding her push an extra second.
"This one."
"You made her come?"
"Sure."
By now she'd little need to shove her fist, as he was doing the work.
"Liar!" pretending to let go.
"Honest! Fucked the shit out of her."
Bingo! Exactly what all the clues proved, in retrospect anyway. All the way! She squeezed with more respect.
Light around the drapes illuminated Dad above Mom, their bedspread enough askew to reveal her flattened chest. Sara couldn't see below, though. The two had paused to talk, but Sara couldn't catch the words. Something about Rob and her, she bet. As Mom was smiling, whatever they were discussing seemed not to be a problem.
After another moment -- did Mom look her way, Sara wondered? -- Mom's neck arched backward, Dad's hips thrust forward and she watched his butt bounce before Mom pulled the cover up.
Pretty good, judged Sara. Doing it, stopping to chit-chat and then picking up where your left things.
But baloney about Rob's claim of who'd done the deed last night. Mom would have laid Rob, not him laying her, so to speak. But even still!
At least Rob wasn't still a virgin. That would be a bummer, having a brother who couldn't score. She still was, of course, but only because she'd told Dad he had to wait. Technically a virgin, but at least one who'd felt a boner through her panties. Dad's birthday present would be so awesome, that plus some decent clothes. Or better, Dad plus a gift certificate.
Half the soccer team said they'd gone all the way, but they were exaggerating except for Katelyn who'd probably done it a million times. Sara would be the second, as her birthday wasn't that far off. But if she waited that long, maybe Jessica would beat her and then she'd be third. The real bummer with Dad, though, would be that you couldn't tell your team. Everybody would say it was weird.Rob probably wouldn't deliver the same personal payoff, but that's not necessarily the most important thing. For your first time, you want someone a little older, of course, but not really, really old. A brother would deserve some sort of sibling preference. Mom would want it to be a nice guy, and Rob's sort of that. Plus you can tell your team -- give them enough hints to guess, anyway -- since they think he's cool. Some brothers aren't.
Plus your rooms being both upstairs would make it as easy as pie. For sure, though, she'd not wear anything polka dotted. Older girls wear tiny little things.
"Like it?" she asked as she pushed and pulled, knowing the answer, but needing him to admit it. Your dad knows when you've got him, but you need to make your brother say it in words.
"It's okay."
You love it, she could have corrected him, but saw no benefit in a longer answer.
Sara knew she should have planned things a bit more in advance -- maybe done today's rides with Rob instead of Dad -- but criminy! Some things you just need to go ahead with. "Ahead," catching another inadvertent witticism as she played with her brother's.
But if she'd done the rides with Rob, he probably wouldn't have done that much. Dad wouldn't be screwing Mom right now, so it worked for the best. Things usually do if you maintain an open attitude.
"Me, too," Sara ruled, sitting to pull off her pajama top. Sitting up of course blew their cover, but the folks were in no position to interfere, and even if they tried, hardly had a case.
"You what?"
He's not a virgin, she realized, but he's still pretty new at this. Like maybe he thought this was about using her hand?
"Like with Mom," slipping back under the covers to remove her bottoms. It's one thing to show your brother your boobs; it's another to let him see the rest. Dads can see more because they're easier to regulate.
"You mean...?" Rob apparently not quite believing.
"You're really big," reclaiming possession. She thought so, anyway, though it wasn't quite what Dad had to offer, but Rob didn't have to know about that.
"You sure?" in what she took as reference to having sex, not her compliment.
"I'm good at coming," the total truth.
Other than being smoother, Rob's boner wasn't that that much different than Dad's. Maybe not quite the same, of course, but Dad's might have been a bit too much for starting out. Probably Rob wouldn't shoot as much, another positive, as the extra's wasted.
He'd pulled up the blanket, but it didn't stop her from re-exposing her top, same as Mom. Sara of course knew where to put her knees -- it's totally obvious -- and he got where she assumed he'd get. She'd teach him about her details later. Not teach -- he wouldn't like that -- but rather, make him discover.
"Ready?" he asked.
Don't be a dummy, she thought, but answered with a kiss. No sense in saying, "just part way," because he'd forget, and anyway, why miss out on half of it?
All she needed to do was to clutch his back and rock her hips. Maybe because it was Rob, though, she pitched in to help him out. She stretched where she wasn't quite his size, winced when it hurt and stroked the nape of his neck to show she didn't mind.
"Are we having fun yet?" she asked herself, but knew the answer was already turning to yes.
She knew he'd pound until he shot his load -- thanks to Dad, she now knew something about loads-- so was surprised when he paused on a push.
"We don't have to keep going," his cock still impressively rigid, but his voice softer. "I don't want to make you do anything you don't want."
Wow! Sara realized. He said that?
"You're really good," she assured. It doesn't take much to tell your brother he's appreciated and get him back on target. You lock his lips to end the discussion.
Sara wondered if maybe the two of them shouldn't be so obvious. But then again, why not?
She knew that Mom was watching. Multitasking, so to speak. Mothers find out sooner or later and probably tomorrow she'd get the spiel about staying safe. If not, she'd get sex ed in ninth grade, but everybody already knows that stuff.
Fathers don't usually find out as quickly, of course, but most fathers aren't in the same room. But as Dad was finally getting what he needed, she figured he'd understand. Maybe she'd get a little brother or sister out of this, even. She'd babysit for free some times, as she'd kind of made it happen.
She bet, however, that Dad would beat Mom home by an hour on her birthday. They'd use her bed because it's quicker to remake.
Or, even better, she'd get Mom on the way home from work to pick up Rob from football and take him to Pizza Hut. That way, she and Dad could also finish "I'm the monkey and you're the tree."
Then for Rob's birthday, Dad could take her to Pizza Hut while Birthday Boy gets Mom's present. Totally fair, other than he hardly ever makes his bed to start with.
Thanks to Rob's enthusiastic contribution, Sara finished nicely. Not as gigantic as from Dad's finger, but so what? She and her brother had a big bed and all night long.
And speaking of all night long and big beds, she noted, the folks were still cruising in theirs!
On the radio, Karen Carpenter sings "Close to You."
Two hotel-quality mattresses sometimes swishing, sometimes squeaking, sometimes thumping, sometimes recuperating. Sometimes in concert and sometimes one taking cues from the other. Duets sometimes flying like dolphins and sometimes floating like jellyfish. Familiarities and discoveries. Opinions, suggestions, giggles. Oohs and ahhs.
The radio goes off because it has some sort of a timer, but nobody cares.
A family of four at Seven Seas.
THE END | null | null | Authors/Holly_Rennick/Seven_Seas_for_Four.txt |
91,132 | Shakes Peer2B | Feeling | Your body has become accustomed to my touch. It relaxes under my hands as I position you. Feathery fingertips now bring sighs instead of giggles.
Your skin glows in the flickering candlelight as I kneel astride your hips where you lie prone upon the sheets. Lightly, I brush the silken strands of your golden hair from your face, and you smile contentedly.
Such trust, from one who seems so small and fragile beneath my brutish bulk, is impossible to fathom, but my heart swells within my chest at the knowledge of its existence.
Leaning forward, I trail the tip of my tongue lightly around the delicate curve of your upturned ear. A gentle nip at the fragile shell sends shivers down your spine.
I am attuned to you now. I can read every nuance of your body's reaction to my touch.
Warm, soft, dry kisses down the side of your neck - your head falls forward, exposing more of the graceful curve to my ministrations. Your sighs are soft and expectant.
I draw a tender fold of flesh into my mouth and suckle on it, biting softly before I move onward. You shiver and moan.
Starting at the base of your neck, using only the tip of my moist, stiffened tongue, I seek out the tiny knots that the day's stress has left beneath the velvet skin of your back.
For half an hour or more, following with my hands to dry your skin, lest evaporation chill you, I search out and massage away each tense little bump, every taut strand. My tongue aches with fatigue by the time I have reached the little dimples at the top of your buttocks, and I switch to my hands.
Every muscle in your body seems to have melted, and the firm, rounded globes that I love following up the stairs now feel almost gelatinous in my hands.
I shift to the side and gently spread your docile, boneless legs. A heavenly aroma wafts upward from their juncture, and moisture seeps into the sheets.
Taking the oil from its resting place above the candle, I work my way down your thigh, taking my time. I avoid the moist crevice that beckons me, only coming close enough to hint at what's to come. When your thighs have yielded up the last vestiges of tension, I move gently on to your calves, taking care not to apply too much pressure, as I know how sensitive those muscles are for you.
Your feet are the key to your soul. I work them with oiled hands for at least a quarter hour, each, and your sighs and moans speak to me of the opening of forbidden places within you.
At last, I cross your ankles and turn you to your back. Your arms flop bonelessly to the side.
Once more I put my mouth to work. This time, however, my purpose is more feral. I ravage the length of your neck with savage kisses and little bites. I nibble around the line of your jaw.
I know the places that ignite your passion and exploit them mercilessly.
My tongue delves deeply into the hollow of your throat, and your hips rise rhythmically from the mattress. Your sounds are wilder, more guttural now.
Working with lips and teeth, I trace the outer edges of your precious, exquisitely small breasts. Your cries become more strident, and you seek to guide my head, my mouth, with your tiny, fragile hands. I am on a mission, though, and will not be deterred. Frustration colors your cries, and your pelvis thrusts itself upon an unseen lover.
Your rock-hard nipples must wait. I know how sensitive they are, how they cry out for my tongue and my teeth, but first there is the soft, sweet mound around and beneath.
Sucking, tonguing, nibbling, I minister to first one succulent hillock, then the other. The muscles in your abdomen tighten, and as your pelvis vibrates, I stop. Only my hands are touching you - soft, broad strokes to calm and relax.
The moment passes, and I begin again, swooping down to inhale an entire breast. My tongue swirls around the tender morsel, playing with the hard, rubbery tip. Your back arches, and a sharp cry escapes your lovely lips.
Using only my teeth, I swiftly capture the nipple of the other breast, covering the first with my hand.
Quick, sharp nips upon the sensitive nubbin send electric shocks up your spine. Your legs fly apart as your sweet pussy seeks its invisible lover, oscillating rapidly in the air.
Once more I stop. You cry out in frustration at the sudden cessation of sensation.
When you have retreated from the precipice, I begin again, working my way orally down the gentle curves of your belly, pausing to pay homage to the wide depression of your bejeweled navel.
Your hands roam freely through my hair and urge me southward as the pitch of your song rises.
Almost there, I now combat my own urgency. With superhuman will, I force myself to moderate my pace.
My tongue seeks out the softest, most tender flesh of your body, delving into the creases between thigh and labia - feathery touches that have you quivering with anticipation. Your cries have ceased, and you seem to have stopped breathing as you wait for what is next to come.
Your legs have opened obscenely wide to give me free access to the prize, but I take my time. Lapping like a little dog at his water bowl, my tongue travels from the very top of your fragrant cleft, slowly parting the moistened folds.
The tiny, rigid bud of your little sentinel comes to attention as my tongue approaches. Your breath rasps through your mouth, and tiny whimpers punctuate the rushing of the air.
Pausing, I gently spread your slimy folds and slowly probe with a single upturned finger for the rough little patch of flesh just inside your tunnel. When your tube clamps down on my exploring digit, and your hips ratchet against my face to the tune of your indrawn breath, I know I'm in the right place.
My tongue resumes its journey, now laving gently at the tender tissues beneath it - worshipping your most sacred flesh.
I toy with the idea of more teasing, but decide against it.
As your impassioned cries escalate, I flick the tip of my tongue rapidly over the hard little nubbin hiding in your crease, and run my finger across your G-spot.
In mere seconds, your pelvis slams quickly against my mouth, two, three, four times, before your body locks rigid, buttocks a foot or more off the bed. Your keening cry is almost ultrasonic as orgasmic spasms rock your mind and soul.
You collapse bonelessly to the mattress, still jerking periodically with aftershocks. I spoon my body to yours and pull the covers up.
As the lights go out, you murmur sleepily, "What about you?"
Kissing you lightly on the cheek, I reply, "Tomorrow."
Before I've finished saying the word, you're snoring daintily into the darkness. | null | null | Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/Feeling.txt |
91,232 | RUListenen | Voyeur's Delight | Years ago when I taught Junior High, two of my favorite students disappeared for three days. When the attendance clerk called home, she was advised that they had gotten on the bus each day. Interviews of the bus drivers revealed the boys had been delivered to school. As their homeroom teacher, I had reported them absent each day, as they uncharacteristically didn't show up. They didn't ride the bus home those days. No one knew what the two were up to. It turned out that they were in the ceiling of the girls' locker room! They were finally caught when one girl noticed movement in the ceiling tiles and screamed. After a surprisingly short three-day suspension, they returned to class. When the one I shall call Richie showed up at my door, I asked, "So what did you see?"
His eyes glazed over, and in an awed voice, he said, "We saw ev-e-r-ybody!" I am jealous to this day.
The gym is a large box of a building with locker rooms, coaches' offices, and showers for boys and girls at either end of a basketball court. The building ceiling is about 30 feet high, but there are 8-foot drop-ceilings in the locker areas. Above the lockers are huge spaces housing heating and air handling units. Catwalks surround the equipment just above the locker ceilings. Access to these areas is via a locked door marked "Mechanical Room" opening on stairs used by the building engineer.
My two curious heroes one day discovered that by climbing from a bench onto the lockers, they could push the fiberboard-ceiling tile up and enter the utility space. Naturally, they checked it out. Their discovery turned to gold when they spied an iron-rung ladder that went up the wall to the top of the gym. There was a four-foot open area between the roof and the drop ceiling of the gym, 30 feet above the floor. Wires, ductwork, and plumbing ran across the ceiling attached to the trusses. In the dim light, they could see across the gym to another ladder on the girls' side! Fear of falling 30 feet to a gym floor would not keep any healthy jack-off-five-times-a-day 13-year-old away from a girl's locker room. They made a plan.
The next day they got off the bus, went straight to the gym and into the ceiling of the boys' locker before homeroom, replacing the ceiling panel. They worked their way the length of the gym clinging to the trusses like monkeys. They made it safely, without falling through the gym ceiling.
Richie and John lay quietly on the catwalk above the girls' lockers and gently slid back the edges of some ceiling tiles in various strategic places to leave cracks. They could peek through the cracks into the locker bays, toilet stalls, the community showers, and the coach's office, just by walking quietly around on the catwalk. Displaced ceiling tiles were common in the lockers from kids' horsing around. It was dark in the catwalk area, so no one noticed the boys for three days.
The above is true, and I have told the tale many times to other teachers, but the details of what the boys saw are fantasies.
Both boys were breathing hard as they jacked off in the dim light. They had each just seen their first naked girl ever since reaching puberty. Like most pubescent boys, fantasizing about naked girls was just about the only thing on their minds. Thirty eleven-year-olds had just left the locker room empty, heading for gym class. Motionless, holding their breath, the boys had watched as the girls undressed and put on their gym uniforms. Some stripped naked and put on different panties and, in some cases, training bras. Like any collection of pre-teens, some were beautiful and sexy, some were ordinary, and an unfortunate few were not pretty at all. They boys couldn't care less. They couldn't believe their luck as their eyes darted from pussy to pussy, titty to ass.
"Hey John," Richie whispered when the girls were gone. "Did you see Mary Wells' pussy? She's on the rag! And all that hair. Those tits. She should be in the tenth grade, I think." Richie gasped and rolled over on his side, slid a ceiling tile sideways, and shot his first cum of the day down on the white tile floor below. The girls would step in it barefoot later on.
John replied, "I was watching the younger ones mostly, especially Jeannie Mills. She's only 10, I think, a grade ahead for some reason. She was scratching her slit, and didn't need any bra for her little tit bumps. I wanna rape her someday." He shot his cum onto the ceiling tile below him, breathing hard. Three days later, the space would smell worse than a peep show booth in an adult bookstore. "Did you see Miss Johnson? She stood by her office door watching the girls the whole time. She's a lezzie, I think."
The door from the gym squeaked a little, and the boys heard someone enter. It was Miss Grinnel, the oldest (40?) gym teacher. She headed for one of the toilet stalls, and they watched as she dropped her shorts to squat over the toilet. Her legs spread wide, and the boys' jaws dropped when she gushed a yellow stream. She sighed as she let out her flow, then leaned back and, instead of wiping, started fingering herself. She treated the boys to their first-ever female orgasm and then went back out to the gym.
"Oh shit, I don't believe that," John giggles as he starts whacking himself again. They lay still, waiting for the girls to return and remove their sweaty clothes after the gym class. Each was reliving in his mind the sights they had already seen.
In a few minutes, sure enough, they watched as the returning students stripped, grabbed towels, and headed for the showers. The aroma of the overheated girls in the crowded lockers drifted up to the boys as they feasted their eyes.
For three days, they watched seven periods a day, twice each period as the girls stripped. They were so drained from jerking off that they couldn't climb safely back across the gym ceiling. They waited until the last teacher left the office and climbed down into the girl's locker room, exiting to the rear onto the athletic fields.
John preferred the young seventh graders. Richie liked the older eighth and ninth grades. When the lockers were empty, they quietly compared the girls and the sights each had seen through the different view holes. Both loved spying on the three teachers. Each afternoon they came in, pissed, took showers, and changed out of their gym clothes to go home. It turned out that Miss Grinnel and the younger (25) Miss Johnson were lovers, and they took turns "supervising" the girls stripping in the locker rooms. The boys watched in amazement as the two kissed and pawed each other in the shower. The lesbians discussed the relative bodies of the girls, fantasizing about which ones they would like to play with.
The first afternoon, Mrs. Hertz (28) came in after the other two had left. She started to undress, showing the boys firm 36C tits and a trimmed bush. She was standing there naked when Mr. Simmons, the Principal, walked in and turned the bolt on the door lock. She smiled at him as he approached her. They exchanged a deep kiss, and the wide-eyed boys watched her undress her boss for a fuck and suck session on one of the benches. She stifled a rather loud orgasm. I suspect that their viewing this scene had something to do with the light punishment they got for their misdeeds.
John lay in a spot where he could see into one locker bay if his head was turned left, and into a toilet stall if he turned right. He watched as the girls stripped, and then turned his head to watch the girls pee in the toilet. This fascinated him, and he began a lifelong fetish with watersports. A couple of times, he pissed down on the locker floor so the girls would walk in it, or sit naked on it where it splashed the bench. He spit down on a bench too.
Two girls came in one time during a class. One ran to the toilet holding her crotch, but was too late. "Shit, I pissed my pants," she yelled. "Not again?" said the other. "I think you do it on purpose." "You might be right. It feels good." John watched as she yanked her pants off and started pissing before she was even over the toilet. She threw the wet panties in the trash, and the two left. Later, he retrieved the panties. That night, he lay sniffing and tasting the undies, jerking out what little cum he had left before he slept.
One period, two eighth graders got in a fight in the showers. One was accusing the other of flirting with her boyfriend. A dozen naked girls surrounded the two, egging them on. As the fight started, a few started fingering themselves, excited by the punching, hair pulling, scratching, and cursing. Suddenly, the two gay coaches entered, screaming at the onlookers to clear out. They each grabbed a fighter and pulled them apart. The boys noticed the women were none too gentle and "accidentally" managed to feel little boobies and cunts as they began subduing the two naked crying pre-teens. The embarrassed two were made to sit in opposite chairs in the coach's office, still naked, where they were ordered to apologize.The coaches leered at their two captives, while saying how disappointed they were at the behavior.
When the room was again empty, Richie whispered, "That was awesome!" as he stared down at a thin rivulet of blood left on the shower floor. John didn't answer, as he was busy, his hand flying up and down his rod.
After school the second day, the girls' track team suited up. Every one was good-looking, long-legged and athletically built. Even though they were running on empty, both boys hardened up right away when one naked girl challenged another, "You can sit on my face if you beat me in the hundred today!" "Likewise, but you'll be sorry," said the other.
The team returned to the lockers a half-hour later, and the boys watched mesmerized as four of the team held down the challenger on a bench. The winner of the bet squatted over the loser's face, with her ass right over her nose. She ground around a little, then lifted up and sprayed piss all over her victim. "You suck at the hundred," she said. When they left, Richie again said, "Now, th-a-a-at was really awesome!" They both were laughing so hard it was difficult to climb down safely.
When they left, John scored another set of panties that had fallen unnoticed under the bench when the bet was satisfied. Richie laughed as John kept sniffing the pussy-soaked silken garment as they walked home.
The third day, the boys' sex education adventure was over at sixth period when one frightened girl spotted them. The lesbian Miss Grinnel, who had been watching the girls, was up on the lockers and into the ceiling before the two could get away.
The vice-principal who disciplined them told me later that the boys were so drained by their adventure that they seemed relieved to have been caught. I've often wondered if the security flaw is still there. The custodians must have known about it. If it's still there, boys must be still using it. Everyone in the school knew of the incident, and the lore must have come down through students since that time. | bb/ggg..., F/F, M/F, WS, VOY | null | Authors/RUListenen/Voyeur Heaven.txt |
91,278 | Xanthos Pendragon | Anticipation | You're leaning back in your chair, relaxing at the end of a long day. You're sitting there naked, your lover very gently caressing your shoulders and neck from behind with just his fingertips - barely touching you, causing all the day's stress to just flow from your body. You know this game too well; it's one of his favorites.
He occasionally touches the back of your neck at the hairline; his fingers flow around and under the chin then up the sides of your face to your temples. His hands turn and reverse the flow back down to your shoulders again. The sensations you feel are beyond anything you had experienced before this lover. Your juices are already flowing, knowing what is to come.
After a few gentle swirls, his hands pass between your breasts without actually touching them, only giving you the most feather-soft of touches as they move down your belly, almost - but not quite - to your trimmed bush, then around your navel, your sides, then slowly turning and following their path back up between your breasts and to your shoulders again.
Every movement is exquisite torture; ever so close to your breasts and pussy... but ever so far. You want him to touch you there... No... you *NEED* him to touch you there... but you know he won't. It's all part of his game. You also know he won't let you touch yourself either... You've been in this game too many times.
You feel his warm breath whenever he leans close to you; its gentle caress of your neck and ears. The sensations build slowly... Ever so slowly...
On one of their return trips, his hands ever so softly touch the bottoms of your breasts. If your body wasn't wound up so tight, you would have never noticed it; instead, the touches send you right to the edge... but not quite. Your body whimpers, begging for the release that could come at any second - or several minutes from now.
A half-hour after it began, his hands start another pass down your chest, passing once again between your breasts without touching... only this time, instead of continuing past your breasts, they separate and sweep around the bottoms of your breasts, caressing them fully; cupping, squeezing, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers...
You hardly notice; your body is wracked by an orgasm so strong that you almost pass out. | null | null | Authors/Xanthos/www/Anticipation.txt |
91,338 | C. Lakewood | Gone Native | You may remember, from the first part of this story, that I and my wife, Heather, formed a Peace Corps team, along with a young doctor named Dan and a construction man named Bob. Our first mission was to improve sanitation in Sharmbay, an African village suffering from periodic outbreaks of cholera. We built a sanitary system, several hygienic latrines, and a big gang shower. We were also supposed to accustom the natives to the idea of routine medical inspections and inoculations.
I was team leader primarily because, through a bureaucratic snafu, I was the only one who spoke the native dialect. I frequently had long chats with the village chief, Zuha'ar, sometimes about the project, but more often about our differing cultures and about life in general. Despite my attempts to seem nonchalant, the chief could see that I was often troubled. And he also could easily deduce the reason: Heather. More than once, he suggested that I would have fewer problems with my wife if I took away her clothing and treated her like one of the tribal women.
(The status of the tribe's women was very low. At all times, they were kept naked except for a red headband -- often decorated with a few beads and feathers -- and a pair of leather sandals. Whenever a woman left the village, she was well supervised, and she also had her hands bound behind her back.)
Heather, of course, an avid feminist, deplored the way the women were treated, and she was absolutely furious when I told her of the chief's suggestion. But, a few days later, she surprised me by admitting that she did enjoy going about in scanty clothes in front of Dan and Bob and, indeed, the native men and boys -- knowing she was off-limits. She then asked me to engineer a scenario in which she would be "forced" to strip (partially) as part of the demonstration of the shower and medical procedures. She even admitted that she had fantasized about joining the tribe. (I think she'd been drinking fermented goats' milk, and that stuff is sneaky-potent.)
While Heather was having to prance around in her birthday suit, most of our supplies and equipment had been loaded on the 6x6 truck and were heading towards the next village downstream, a place called Loora, the scene of our next assignment. We were planning to stop by the marketplace in the morning, pick up some perishables, and then go on to meet our kit down river.
And, in a few more days, yet another town would be a lot healthier.
Of course, as it turned out, all of Heather's clothes had gotten packed up and trucked away with the rest of our main baggage. While she was first stupefied and then enraged, the chief calmly smiled and announced that he was so grateful for all of Heather's help that he was going to make her an honorary member of the tribe.... So she didn't need those clothes anymore.
And, when she continued to insist on having something to wear, he simply beamed and handed her a garish, ceremonial box that held her new ensemble: a red headband with 3 parrot feathers and a pair of red leather sandals.
Heather spent that night in a sweat lodge, drinking pints of warm native beer, and the next day she was led naked through the crowded bazaar with a rope around her neck. Of course, she was groped freely by the excited, multi-racial street throng. All the while, she was thoroughly aroused, all hot and wet and blushing -- and also deeply humiliated. It was, all in all, fascinating. The chief even left her briefly with a slave merchant, who proceeded to give her a complete physical up on the central auction block.
While Heather was being displayed in the market square, I had some time to myself in which to ruminate about our past together...and possibilities for the future.
Heather had always been very much a two-edged sword -- at her best, a passionate, intelligent, conscientious, and charitable partner...but, at her worst, an arrogant, lazy, manipulative, self-centered, bluestocking bitch. When we were dating and even more so while we were engaged, she was at her best almost all the time, but things began to change almost from the instant we were married. Issues that I thought had been settled to our mutual satisfaction suddenly turned 180 degrees and went spinning off. There was the matter of money, for example: her assets remained "hers," and my assets became "ours." Then there was birth control: the Pill was a health risk, condoms unreliable, IUD obsolete, Rhythm Method absurd, blah, blah, blah. Therefore, if we were to have intercourse at all, I'd have to get a vasectomy. The alternative would have been for me to give her oral sex and then masturbate myself. (Sorry, but she couldn't blow me...uncontrollable gag reflex, you know.) So I got a vasectomy.
It was her idea to join the Peace Corps. And, while I was pretty much okay with that, I wanted to stay in the Western Hemisphere. But she insisted on Africa, just because (as I later learned) she'd had a couple of interesting courses on African history and culture in grad school. Even then she couldn't be bothered studying the local languages or trying to develop a skill that might have some value....
I loved her, but I just wasn't sure how much longer I could tolerate her. Almost three years ago, I'd even contemplated divorce. It would be harder to turn back now, if I ever started down that road again.
So that was my frame of mind when Chief Zuha'ar sought me out about mid-day. He informed me of his decision to pay an extended visit to his cousin, Adello, who was chief of Loora, the village we were about to head off to. He further insisted that Heather (now usually referred to by her tribal name: "Hettua") would be part of his retinue and must be treated like any other tribal woman.
While I was, at this point, not really averse to this arrangement in principle, I certainly didn't want to run the risk of her becoming pregnant. I was attempting to voice my concerns...and explain about birth control...when he suddenly grinned and described to me an old tribal form of chastity belt, rarely used any more, but certainly well within acceptable customs and traditions.
I shrugged. Being married to Heather had taught me how to accept the inevitable gracefully.
Zuha'ar then went off to collect "Hettua" from the block. I smiled again at the contrast between those two. He was 5'11" and 272 pounds (I can be precise because we'd weighed and measured them all), 44 years old, with dull black hair and shiny black skin, and dressed in a mixture of Western clothes and native finery. By contrast, she was 5'6" and 129 pounds, age 28, with pale hair and skin, and naked except for headband and sandals (and leash).
Back at the chief's compound, I explained the situation to Hettua very briefly. Zuha'ar had warned me that it was taboo for an outsider to talk with a female of the tribe unless there was a tribal male present who could monitor the conversation. And that was impossible, due to the language barrier. He gave me some leeway, but not much. So I didn't have time to wait out one of her tantrums; I just gave her the facts and told her to keep her mouth shut or we'd gag her.
She did keep quiet, for a while, but started complaining when Dan, Bob, and I began to put her into the chastity belt. (So we gagged her.)
The main component of the chastity belt was a twisty, cigar-shaped object carved from some heavy, oily wood; one end was rounded and the other blunt. Almost 6" long and three-quarters of an inch in diameter, it had a hole bored right through it about an inch from the blunt end. It was usually fastened on with thongs, but Dan and Bob thoughtfully contributed a couple of lengths of light, stainless steel chain and two small brass padlocks. One chain was looped round her waist; both its ends and one end of the other chain were padlocked together, with the rest of the second chain dangling crotchward. The rounded end of the wooden cylinder was inserted into her pussy, and the free end of the dangling chain was passed through the hole in the cylinder, pulled up her ass-crack, and padlocked to the back of the waist chain. It took some adjusting to make sure the fit was snug enough that she couldn't wriggle out of the harness or expel the plug -- yet loose enough for some comfort and to allow her to pull the butt chain aside slightly when she took a crap. During the "fitting," we did discover that the chain tended to get tangled up in her pubic hair, even as sparse as it was. So we shaved her.
That night, Hettua slept in the chief's house, under the watchful eye of Nandi (5'3" and 142 pounds), his #1 wife. He had three others.Early the next morning, we set off for Loora. Dan, Bob, and I went by Jeep, and the chief's party followed by ox cart -- Zuha'ar, 16 bodyguards, 2 cart drivers, Nandi, and Hettua. Because of her status (and because she would act as cook on the trail), Nandi's hands were tied in front. This also enabled her to use a variety of "persuaders" on Hettua -- among them a limber switch, a horsehair fly-whisk, and a bunch of nettles.
The chief and his people had to travel by road because, at this time of the year, the river was too low to float the royal barge properly. As a result, they took two and a half days to cover the distance we did in about an hour.
When the native contingent pulled in at last, there was much ceremony accompanied by a great deal of drums and yelling. (It reminded me of a rock concert.) Adello, a younger and slimmer man than his more powerful cousin, was careful to defer to the big man, while still maintaining his own status as host.
That evening, there was a great feast -- principally roast pork, stewed yams, and various fruits. Zuha'ar was the guest of honor, of course, with Nandi seated at his right side and Hettua squatting at his left. Nandi, with her hands in front, was able to feed herself, but Hettua couldn't. Indeed, she ate from Zuha'ar's fingers all evening. She ate only what he fed her...and everything he fed her. I later discovered that he was feeding her more than one kind of "pork" -- a task in which all of his men assisted. (They may have been primitives, but even they knew about blow jobs. And apparently a dose of Nandi's switch had instantly cured my wife's "uncontrollable gag reflex.")
Adello's village was somewhat smaller than Zuha'ar's, but construction there was slower, and, even after more than 3 weeks, we still hadn't finished. All this time, Hettua was still wearing her chastity belt; she even had to wear it while she was menstruating -- something the natives seemed to consider quite amusing. There was, indeed, a great deal of speculation concerning Hettua's "khunt." (Yes, Dan and Bob had been teaching the natives a few words of English ...basic stuff like "khunt" and "fukh.") I also discovered that the oil gradually leached out of that wooden plug over the course of a month or so, keeping her "khunt" well-basted with a mild irritant. Eventually figuring out that complaining got her nothing but more switch strokes, she'd learned to wiggle her hips as she walked, in a sometimes successful effort to scratch the itch. (I must say that she certainly looked good doing it.)
It was all so humiliating for her, but I couldn't help thinking that it might be beneficial, too, in the end. She'd always been almost pathologically fastidious, and she'd found living in the bush, even under ordinary conditions, was a terrible imposition. Perhaps this experience would teach her some patience and humility.
On the 23rd day, Zuha'ar took me aside and asked when the work in Adello's village would be completed. I gave him my best estimate -- 14 to 18 days. He then shrugged and informed me that he and his party would be starting for home the following morning. He mentioned having to begin preparations for the big ceremony that would be held in 9 days' time. Dan, Bob, and I would of course be expected to attend.
It wasn't until 3 days after the chief and his party had left, that it suddenly struck me -- the word I had unconsciously translated as "big ceremony" was more properly "royal wedding"! I put everything on hold, jumped in the Jeep, and set a new speed record back to Sharmbay (which, I found, was already beginning to look festive).
In a private meeting with Zuha'ar, I must have spent the better part of half an hour alternating between sputtering and wheedling -- all of which he sat through, smiling. When I finally ran out of steam, he sat me down and calmly explained the situation.
First, for well over a century, that chastity belt had been worn only by the various chiefs' various fiancées, and to flout that custom now would be to alienate the populace and risk undoing everything we had accomplished here -- and perhaps even provoke bloodshed. Also, there was a time factor: she could (and should) wear it through one whole menstrual period, but not through more. Second, Hettua was now a member of the tribe, but our wedding almost 5 years ago had not been done in conformity with tribal law and custom. It was, therefore, though not completely invalid, at least no real impediment to her marriage to Zuha'ar. Third, this latter marriage would be in effect only within the area over which he had authority. Outside that area, our status would revert back to what it had been. Fourth, the wedding would happen because he said so, and his word was law. Fifth, he wanted no more argument, because he was doing me a favor...and because it was now lunch time.
I was strangely at peace. I'd made my grand protest, and it had been rejected pretty decisively. So I joined him for lunch, after which I returned to Loora.
Five days later, Dan, Bob, and I declared a holiday and drove back to Sharmbay. I don't really remember much about the ceremony (thanks to fermented goats' milk spiked with medicinal alcohol). I do recall more than the usual amount of drums and yelling...plus much cavorting (more and more like a rock concert). Hettua looked lovely (and eager, in fact); she wore tall white feathers in her headband. The chastity belt was gone.
My hangover lasted three days.
Ten days after the wedding, we'd finished plumbing Adello's village, given the demonstration, and were preparing to get back to the coast and more-or-less civilization for some R & R. Five days later, we were all back at the port of Nola, and she was missing her period. We eventually managed to get a pregnancy test kit and confirmed it -- Hettua was going to have a baby.
We spent most of a month in administrative duties (reporting, reviewing, and planning), and then we headed back out into the field. During this time, there was a great deal of soul-searching, but we really always knew what we'd decide to do in the end. In the middle of her 3rd month, we went back to Sharmbay village and talked to Zuha'ar. We quickly came to an understanding. I'd go on to the next job, but Hettua would stay in Sharmbay until the baby was born. (She had gotten an appointment to stay on as English teacher.) Zuha'ar had a dozen daughters, but no son. So, if the child turned out to be male, he would become the chief's heir and remain with him. If the baby was female, though, we would keep her. And, between now and then, Dr. Dan would come by the village frequently to monitor things.
I could visit only about once a month, and very briefly, but Dan kept me well-informed. Still, it was interesting seeing her at intervals like that. My memories are like a precise series of timed snapshots, rather than a long, blurred watercolor panorama. And each time I saw her, it appeared that not only her belly was growing, but also her libido (perhaps even faster).
Her nipples grew bigger, darker, and more sensitive. Her labia, too, were swollen; her clitoris was considerably larger...and apparently almost permanently erect. Her orgasms became much more intense -- and she was having a lot of them. By the 8th month, her sex-drive was off the charts.
Throughout, she seemed not to have been given any sort of privileged status. She was worked hard -- grinding grain with a pestle, gathering sorghum, stewing tubers, laundering, milking goats, fetching and carrying. Her chores would often be interrupted by a young buck with a hardon -- and then by a young woman with a switch. In between, she frequently did her chores one-handed when feasible, so she could work and masturbate at the same time. And she seemed, maybe not happy, but at least content.
(Nandi, of course, was firmly in control of things, and Hettua eventually wound up doing most of Nandi's work in addition to her own, in return for sexual favors.)
Eventually, she did give birth...to a healthy boy, weighing 10 lbs, 9 oz. He was named Ahrun.
By the end of the month, we were both back in Nola for a brief respite, but we still had another 13 months ahead of us in Africa, before we could finally head home, our service completed.
That was years ago. And we've been happily married ever since. | null | null | Authors/C_Lakewood/Gone Native.txt |
92,056 | charlietwobeans | Time Pressures | You sit with your husband at the blackjack table, a smile on your face, your most glamorous outfit worn, casually playing, half paying attention as the cards are dealt, the chips are thrown, and the groans and cheers float by. You chose The Mirage casino tonight for your husband, insisting that your friend told you it was a wonderful place to spend an hour gambling. You put lots of effort into this evening, preparation, planning, and primping to ensure all would go flawlessly, even if it is expected to be a fleeting moment in time, and even if it has nothing to do with your loving husband.
Your eyes constantly go to the casino entrance. You have studied the email you received, and the image attached, for the last week to ensure there can be no mistake. His image is etched into your mind, his plan to enter the casino and stand in a specific location to capture your eye has been reviewed over and over.
You see him enter, pause, catch your eye, and then walk to the elevators. You quickly excuse yourself and whisper to your husband that you must find the bathroom and you will be back in moments. He obediently nods and continues playing, never challenging you, as always, and never expecting anything from you. You reach the elevator in moments, breathless with anticipation, and you see his hand holding the elevator doors ajar, waiting for you. Gliding on, your eyes remain on the floor as he assesses you, breathes over you like an animal in the jungle. His warm hand runs along the nape of your neck, grasping it firmly. His other hand is held out, expectantly, as you quickly come to grips with reality and remember what it is you should do. Hands hike your dress as the elevator numbers start counting up. 2...4....6....8... You hook your thumbs into your panties and whisk them off, ball them and place them in his hand.
The elevator doors whoosh open and you obediently follow him, three steps behind, eyes cast downward. Opening the door to the dark room, you are presented with the ball of panties, and you dutifully place them in your mouth. The scent of your own juices intoxicates you as you plunge into the dark room. Immediately you are on your knees, pushed down by his hands on your shoulders and presented with his cock. With no mouth to satisfy him, you reach to stroke him and are rewarded with a light slap to the cheek, not enough to leave a mark, just enough to tingle and make you remember your place.
He places his hand around your neck and guides you to the bed. He is aware of the time pressures you are under, but remains calm and cool as he places you kneeling against the bed, face buried into the comforter. You are aware of his movements behind you, aware that he is pulling your dress up to expose your naked flesh, and you are aware of your own heady scent permeating the room like a bitch in heat. It is unmistakable, how aroused you are.
He turns your head to face him, takes the panties out of your mouth and inserts his cock roughly, making you swallow his entire manhood in almost one stroke. His guiding hand behind your head holds you tight against his body, his cock down your throat, your breathing becoming ragged and difficult. As he lets go, you pull back and your slimy spit arches from his cock to your lips, and drools over your dress. His cock is full of your lipstick, and your makeup starts to run from your eyes as they water from the strain. Over and over, he performs this action, 5,6,7 times until your jaw and throat start to ache. He then pushes, mashes your face into the bed and roughly spreads your legs apart, inserting a finger, then two, then three, into your sopping pussy, and his thumb circles your anus. A bead of spit lands on the cleft of your ass as he works the thumb deeper and deeper inside you.
Staring at the clock, you think desperately about how much time has elapsed. As if on cue, he pushes behind you and his cock splits your vagina, sending shock waves through your body. Thrusting deep and hard, it takes you a minute to come to grips with the searing pain and pleasure between your legs. You start to quiver and shake, an orgasm like none other is imminent.
He speaks to you, for the first time. "Cum you whore, cum for me you cock slut, right now, explode and cum and shower that pussy juice all over the floor."
With those words, being called a whore and a slut, you explode with an orgasm, and as you shiver and shake you feel the liquid leaking from your pussy, your golden nectar. He continues thrusting, not stopping for you, enjoying his own pleasure, until he grabs your head and pulls you around and shoves his cock roughly into your mouth once more. Deep inside, he begins to erupt, splashing your throat and tongue with his cum, holding your nose so you are forced to gulp. Swallowing it all, you feel it warm your insides and you realize what a mess you must be.
At that moment, you see he has been holding a cellphone the whole time, and you know it has been recording your shamefully slutty acts. If this ever made the rounds with your friends at home....the shame.
He says to you "Smile, your husband will love this."
Your mind races with fear and anxiety, until you realize what a pushover your husband truly is, and how this fantasy would all be wasted on him. So you smile, cum drops between your teeth, drool and spit and tears on your face, and say to the camera "I fucking loved every moment."
He picks up your balled panties from the floor and sweetly, tenderly begins to clean your face with them. Wiping cum and spit and drool, caked on makeup, from your cheeks and lips, your panties, already soaked with your juices, can only hold so much, but it is the act of tenderness that astounds you. This rough man who was moments ago thrusting his cock inside you with abandon was now treating you like a little princess.
He raises you from your knees and holds the cum-soaked panties out for you to step into. Obligingly you do as he wordlessly commands, feeling the warm and sticky mess wrap around your sore pussy, reminding you of what you went through moments ago. He guides you to the door, opens it, and places a warm hand on your lower back and thrusts you out the door, a little less tender than moments ago. The door shuts behind you as you were turning to say goodbye and to thank this incredible man. You are left with only the door slammed in your face. Slowly, quietly you press your lips to the door, linger a kiss against the spot where his chest would be, and whisper "thank you Sir."
Back with your husband, after a quick cleanup in the bathroom and a scowl to him when he attempted to inquire about your slightly disheveled look, your heart stops as you see Him approach. His eyes are locked on yours, His strong, firm stride directed toward your table. You begin to panic that He will make a scene, embarrass you, humiliate you in public...and your pussy reacts in kind by gushing more fluid out at the thought.
As He approaches, his hand comes from His pocket to reveal the cellphone He used during your encounter. His hand reaches toward the back of your neck, pinpricks spark all along your spine and your head starts to swim, remembering how strong and firm His guiding hand can be. He bends slightly forward and says to you, looking deeply into your eyes, "you dropped your phone." The phone He places on the table is the same as was used moments, aching moments, ago, to record your decadent descent into slutdom. He places it on the table, then places your hand on top of it, firmly gripping your hand and speaking into your ear "you can never be too careful with your property."
As He walks away, your husband meekly looks at you in confusion, shrugs his shoulders and continues playing his hand. You fidget with the phone, turning and spinning it, not knowing whether to bury it in your purse or turn it on and show the whole table what a whore they are sitting with. You know He wants you to turn it on, so you fumble and eventually press the right button to wake it up. You are presented with a very simple screen with only two icons, a video (obviously of your performance) and the phone contacts application. Curious to know, you select the contacts first, and are presented with only two contacts: "Safety" and "Servitude".You shudder as you stare at the phone, knowing that this is your key, your gateway to a world you have long desired, the pass to go from being the boring, demanding housewife and mother to becoming the lowly, subservient whore your bones have ached for since you were young.
Your thumb strokes the screen, inching closer and closer to the contacts as your brain fights to consider which path to choose, knowing the right answer that has been locked inside your head, screaming to get out. | null | null | Authors/charlietwobeans/time-pressures.txt |
92,192 | null | Chastity and More | You agreed to the chastity reluctantly.
Your girlfriend and you fucked daily, at least! At first with great passion, but you did admit it had become a little more perfunctory of late. She said the chastity would be a fun and sexy change of pace. It would turn her on so much. She promised that two weeks of frustration would only make things better, and she'd get the best sex of her life. So you agreed to be harnessed.
The Friday of release came, and she sent you sexy text messages all day about how good the fucking would be.
...but then it was an hour after her shift, and she wasn't home. Eventually, she texted to say she had to work late unexpectedly. Another hour went by, and she texted you that it would be worth the wait; she was going to get pounded so hard. Then another hour. Then another. Each time telling you to focus on what was to come.
Finally, you got this picture text. She was wearing only your chastity key. It took a moment, but you were sure you recognized the sloppy apartment of your friend Dillon. That fucker!
"Dillon's going to fuck me now, Sweety.
All your frustration. Knowing you're locked up at home. The betrayal. It has me so turned on.
I own you, bitch.
I'm sure this is going to be the best sex of my life! XOXO" | chastity, cheating, cuck, cuckold, texting, humiliation, nosex | null | Authors/coo_coo_cola/Chastity and More.txt |
92,212 | null | Pain Loving Cum Slut | Your cock is soft and wet. Sweat covers every inch of your body as you lay back and catch your breath. You open your eyes and look down to the other end of the bed. I am there, naked, soaked with sweat. Frothy white cunt juice covers my legs and cunt. I am sitting in a pool of my own piss and cum, desperately scraping your cum off my face and into my mouth. You can't believe what a nasty fucking cum slut I am, the crazed look in my eyes as I try to find more of your cum to suck down. Too soon, there is no more for me to eat. Panic starts to set in inside me as I realize that there is no more. The sick fuckpig inside me that drives me on and on still needs more.
You've been fucking me like an animal for hours. You've pounded my mouth, pussy, and ass with your huge, hard cock until you thought they would break, but somehow I still need more.
I start to crawl up your leg, heading straight for your cock again, begging you for more, telling you that I'll do anything for just a little more. You're exhausted though, you need just a little rest before you can think about wrecking my slutty holes again. But I'm too needy a fuckpig to give up. I need more. I need the abuse, the stretching, the fucking, the agony and ecstasy of fucking you. I need it like a junkie needs a fix.
I beg you more and more, grabbing at you, trying to get your tired cock to come back to life. I try everything I can think of. I talk dirty to you, I tell you what a sick fucking slut I am for you. I tell you that I'm nothing better than a pain craving slut that needs you to split her asshole open with your cock while you spit in her face and debase me beyond all limits. I beg you to get up and tear me apart one more time, to rip me open with your beautiful cock and gush your hot piss and come into my mouth again. But you can't. You've cum in me and on me so many times in the past hours that there's just nothing left in you. But I'm too much of a crazed fuckslut to know when to give up.
Finally, my frustration gets the better of me, and I start to tease you for not being able to get it up. I tell you what a worthless excuse for a man you are. That you're just a limp-dicked cunt for not being able to get it up and wreck my slutty holes one more time.
You tell me to shut up, but I won't. I know that if I can't entice you to fuck me until I can't go on, perhaps I can get you angry enough to do it out of spite. And you want to, you want to see me destroyed totally, now more than ever, but you just need a little rest first, you are on empty. I don't stop egging you on, though. Finally, you lose patience and slap me hard in the face and tell me to just stop. I almost come when you slap me and keep on harassing you hoping for another. It comes, but you give up on a third slap in my face when you notice how hot they're making me. I won't leave you alone though, and soon you've had enough of my catting. You get up and put your clothes on, shoving me away as I repeatedly try to grab you and make you stay and fuck me more. Once you're dressed, you slap my face and grab my hair, forcing me down to my knees. You look me in the eyes and spit in my face.
"You're just an insatiable fucking cunt, aren't you?"
You ask me, and I tell you again how bad I need it. You slap my face again, and tell me that I'm going to fucking get it. That not even a sick fucking slut like me will be able to take what I'm about to get. My cunt creams a fresh stream of juice just imagining what you have in mind.
You tighten your fist in my hair and drag me to the door. I'm still naked, and covered in slimy filth. You don't care. You drag me out of the house and throw me in the trunk of your car. We drive for a few minutes before the car stops and you open the trunk again to pull me out. I can tell right away we're in a bad neighborhood, in front of a really tough looking bar.
Motorcycles are parked up on both sides of the street as far as I can see in either direction. You grab my hair again, and pull me out of the trunk. A voice in my head is screaming about how fucking insane this is, but the nasty fuckslut has me totally in its control. I feel my cunt tighten just imagining what's about to happen to me.
You drag me into the bar and throw me across the pool table nearest the door. The two giant bikers that were playing don't look too pleased until they realize that there's a naked slut in front of them, rubbing her dripping cunt and trying to find the words to beg them to fuck her. You announce to the bar that I'm nothing but a sick, nasty fuckslut that likes it rough and hard in every hole. You make me tell them what a nasty fucking whore I am. Then you make me tell them that I'm a pain slut and I really get off when I'm getting stretched and ripped open. I beg them to do anything they can, that I need to get off so bad right now. You even offer $50 to the guy that can make me scream the loudest. Pleasure or pain you say. Then you laugh and tell them that a sick fucking pain slut like me doesn't know the difference between the two. The room full of bikers is completely still for a moment, then suddenly erupts in a surge towards me.
I'm grabbed by my cunt and hair and dropped on the floor on my knees. The bikers line up in front of me. The first one undoing his belt and pulling out a monstrous cock. I leap on it immediately and start sucking on it, gagging myself while trying to take it all down. You tell the guy not to be gentle with me and to just grab my hair and fuck my face like a cunt. The way I like it. He does, just like you said, and I really start to choke on him as he pounds my mouth with his giant rod. You're not satisfied though, and grab the back of my head and violently thrust it down on his cock, ramming it all the way down my gagging throat over and over again. You do this for ten, fifteen, I don't know how many of these bikers.
You convince them not to cum yet, That they should get a crack at one of my other slut holes before they blow off. Just about every guy in the packed bar takes a turn wrecking my throat while you ram my face down onto them. You're loving watching me gag and cough on these huge long cocks as my eyes roll back in my head and my cunt leaks a never-ending stream of juice into the floor between my knees.
Finally, every guy in the bar has had his cock down my throat, and they are all standing around with their huge, hard cocks dripping in my spit and puke. They are impatient, wanting to fuck my slutty cunt of a body like rabid animals.
You pull me to my feet, spit in my face and then roughly push me down, bending me over the pool table. The first guy steps up and asks if I actually take it in the ass.
You laugh, noting that it doesn't really matter. I manage to cough out a desperate cry for the big rough thug to fuck my asshole, and the bar erupts with laughter.
The biker just shrugs and grabs me by the hips, not wasting a moment before jamming his cock up my ass, every inch with one hard, brutal thrust. I cry out, but you know from abusing my ass some many times that I'm crying in orgasm, not anything else.
You laugh to yourself and ask how many guys want to fuck my ass. Just about the entire room raises their hand. You laugh again, knowing just how brutal this is going to be for me. You know how much of an abuse loving pig cunt I am though, and mention that the guys should all fuck me ass and ignore my cunt. That's how you use a real fuckpig slut. They all laugh and agree.
Every one of these dirty, rough bikers is going to fuck my ass. And you've offered $50 to the one that can wreck me worse than any of the others. As I'm getting my asshole torn apart by this huge-cocked gorilla, you get up on the pool table and grab my ass cheeks. You pull them apart as far as you can, and start to slam my ass back on that cock just like you did my face.
The biker next in line to fuck me comes over and hands you a bandana, and smiles at you. You take my arms and bend them behind my back, tying them together there. The guy wrecking my asshole reaches up and grabs my bound arms, finally having a firm handle with which to fuck me as hard as he can. You let go and walk over to the bar to have a drink and watch me, the dirtiest, nastiest, craziest fucking slut hole in the entire world, get violently fucked over and over again by a bar room full of huge cocked bikers.
The bartender smiles at you as you sit, and offers you all you can drink if he can have a shot at my slutty fucking ass. You order a beer and tell him he can even call his friends if he wants anyone that wants to can abuse this sick slut. First though, you have an idea. You ask for a beer pitcher and the bartender happily gives it to you. You come back over to the pool table and hold up the beer pitcher.You announce that if all the guys cum in the pitcher, then when they're all done abusing you, the slut will drink down every drop. The guys cheer and agree. You go back to the bar and sit down, chatting it up with the guys still waiting, and enjoying all the free beer you can handle. You watch as man after man has his chance to abuse you, to wreck your asshole with his cock as hard as he possibly can, every one of them rutting you like an animal in hopes to win the $50 prize. Some start slapping your ass while they fuck it, and others catch on to the idea. Soon every guy who takes his turn up your swollen asshole adds to it by slapping your face or your ass, whipping you with their belts or twisting your nipples until they start to tear. Through it all though, you can see your slutty cunt gushing out juice as you cum, as hard as you've ever seen yourself, again and again. Overtop of all of it you can hear yourself screaming and moaning, begging more and more, pleading the pack of dirty fuckers to wreck your ass harder, to hurt you even more.
You just smile and watch them try as you drink your beer. Several hours later, the crowd is thinning out. Every man in the bar had fucked your ass for all they're worth, came in the pitcher, then had you clean their cock off with your hot, slutty mouth. During the brief times when there's not a cock ramming up your ass, you can see how wrecked your hole is.
It's hanging open, swollen and red. Even when you've fisted it, you've never seen it so destroyed. And on your face is a sick smile, twisted occasionally in excruciating agony, then the next moment the pure bliss of orgasm. You run out to check on your car for a moment, and when you come back there's a guy up on the pool table with you. His cock is buried in your ass, and he's holding you up in a sort of sitting position, your arms still tied back and your cunt, ass and tits all sticking right out for more abuse.
The first guy who fucked you is back and hard again. He slaps your cunt hard, and then laughs as he watches you cum again, and your pussy squirt all over his hand. He takes his cock in his fist and jams it up your ass again, along with the equally huge cock already fucking you there. You cry out fresh, just like you did for the very first cock up your ass that night. You settle back at the bar and watch as every guy who wanted a second shot at your ass takes it, only this time they go two at a time. You're screaming and thrashing around as they double fuck your already destroyed asshole, loving every sick fucking second of it. It goes on for more hours, two at a time up your ripped up ass. They're fucking you every bit as hard as before and whipping your red, raw nipples with their wide leather belts as they do it. Finally, after many hours of pure hardcore sodomy of the most violent kind, every man is drained. Next to you on the floor is a beer pitcher filled to the rim with what must be thousands of shots of cum.
One guy stands up and says that he wants to see the skank drink the cum. The crowd cheers, but you raise your hand and calm them down. You take a look at yourself, completely fucked out and barely conscious. You've never seen any girl look as completely slutty and nasty as you do right there.
Nearly fucked to death up your pain-loving whore-cunt asshole. Your mind races back to the shit you gave them just hours ago and you smile an evil smile. "Wait!" You yell out to the crowd. "We still have to settle the matter of who gets these $50!"
The bar erupts again in arguments about who thinks they fucked you up the worst. You decide that to settle it, everyone gets one chance to abuse you and make you scream. You feel your cunt tighten again just imagining what they're going to do to you, the limitless slut that controls you having hours ago replaced any trace there might have ever been of the normal you.
They all take their turn. Some grab your nipples and pull until you're lifted up off the ground, crying out as they slowly tear off of your body. Others whip you with their thick leather belts. Your ass, your tits, even your messy slut cunt get lashed and beaten. Some ram their huge rough fists up your already destroyed asshole, stretching it out even further, tearing it up past anything even you have ever imagined. The bikers torture you over and over again, biting your clit, ramming pool cues up your ass three or four at a time. You're screaming and crying, but every time you're asked if you want them to stop, all you can say is "Please! NO! Don't fucking stop!"
All the bikers give you the sickest and most painful tortures they can imagine, until only two are left. You can tell these guys are the sick ones of the bunch just by looking at them. You lay there on the pool table, your legs bent back by whoever is nearby at the time, exposing your asshole, cunt and tits to everyone. The next to last biker walks over to you and pinches both your nipples between his long fingernails, then your clit the same way. You scream again, but no more than before. He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out three safety pins. Your brain cries out, but can't distinguish between need and terror anymore.
Taking your left breast in his hand, he squeezes the bruised flesh hard, making your rock hard nipple stand out that much more. Slowly and deliberately he opens the first safety pin and pushes it straight through your nipple. Your eyes shoot open and you scream out louder than you ever have before. He just slaps your face and grabs your other breast, repeating his sadistic piercing. Tears roll from your eyes and cum runs from your cunt in perfect unison. He then smiles you a crazed smile and reaches down and grabs your cunt. Pulling your lips apart until the flesh is pulled tight, he has the guy holding your legs back also hold your juice covered piss flaps apart and pull. Smiling, he opens the last safety pin and takes out his lighter. He holds the flame to the point of the pin, watching it smoke as it gets white hot.
Leaning over, he tells you that if you tell him that he wins, he doesn't have to do it. You know you should, but you can't tell him to stop. Some part of you, deep down inside the sickest parts of you needs it. Needs to feel it. Needs to know the feeling of complete and utter destruction.
He swears at your stubbornness, then slaps you and tells you how stupid you must be. Then he follows through on his threat and jabs that red-hot pin right into your swollen clit. He works it around as he pushes it through, making you feel every last atom of it. The bikers holding your legs back, even though they're so much bigger than you, have a hard time holding you down. Finally the pin in through, and you can actually see your nasty cunt spasming from coming so hard. The sadistic biker whispers in your ears again, telling you to say he wins.
Telling you that he'll stop if you just give in. Again, you can't do it. You're too far gone to want anything other then the most extreme abuse anymore. He is frustrated now, crazy with anger. He's determined to make you give in to him.
"Fine." He says, standing up. "Have it your way."
Just like that he grabs the pins in your nipples and pulls, ripping them straight through, tearing you as they come away.
You cry out, even louder than when they went in. A silence fills the room as he grabs the pin pierced through your clit and twists it. The whole room cries out with you as he pulls that pin out as well, tearing apart the absolutely most tender part of you. You twist free of the men holding you down and curl up into a ball, but your pussy is shooting cum across the table as you have the most insane orgasm of your life.
The sadist isn't done yet though. He grabs a drink from one of the tables, vodka or gin or something and pours it on your ripped flesh, your nipples as well as your clit. The liquor stings in the fresh wounds and shoots right through your body. He is absolutely insane with rage now, not knowing what it will take to break you, but you can't break, those parts of you have been consumed with your slutty need for total destruction.
"Fuck you then." He spits, and throws his lit lighter down on you, igniting the alcohol still stinging your freshly torn flesh. The flame is sudden and gone just as fast, but the intense heat sears into you, and you go off again, flooding the table with fresh cum.
The other bikers have seen enough of this guy, and gently escort him out after beating him to a pulp for nearly burning the bar down. The guys who kick him out come back in and ask if the night is through. You look down at yourself and see that you're still conscious in there, somewhere behind the glaze of so many bone shaking orgasms. You know you'd never forgive yourself if you made them stop, not when you are so close to taking literally everything that could possibly do to you.
You tell them no, that the slut still has to drink the cum like you promised. Just as you start to go and get the pitcher so you can pour all that spunk down your throat like the sperm-drinking cumslut you know you are, one guy steps up.
"I never got a chance to make the fuckpig scream." He says. You know it wouldn't be fair to give everyone else a turn and not him and tell him to go for it.
He rushes outside then runs back in with a traffic cone, one of the short thick ones they use to cordon off the parked bikes. Before you know what's going on, the last guy has the point of the traffic cone against the wrecked ring of your slutty asshole. He gets a few inches in, spreading you even wider than before. Trying to get a better angle, he picks you up and bends you over the edge of the pool table, just like how you were when the night began. He starts to push again, but your legs can no longer hold you, and you crumble to the floor on your back. He tries to push more of the cone up your ass in that position, but can't stretch your slut hole any further.
Giving up, he stands and takes a step back. Turning, he rears back and kicks the cone as hard as he can, ramming almost all of it up your anal fuck hole almost all the way. That does it.You are certain you heard my ass ring literally tear apart from the violent penetration ripping me open. I cry out with a scream that cements your $50 for this guy. And, almost instantly, you see my cunt explode in the most furious orgasm ever. Cum and piss gush out of me in all directions.
You rush over and push my legs back, and everyone laughs as I cum and piss all over my own face. The spray brings me around a little, and I open my mouth to drink my nasty piss, covering myself in it.
Everyone in the bar has a good laugh watching this nasty cunt hole of a slut piss in her own mouth and try to drink it. With my last ounce of strength, I manage to ask for the pitcher of cum. After all these hours of violent, hardcore sex, everyone is pretty beat, but the bar erupts in excitement again at the thought of getting to watch a nasty cumslut like me drink a gallon of cum.
You grab the pitcher and step forward, about to hand it to me when you have an even better idea. You push my legs back again and make sure the cone is still buried deep up my torn asshole. Smiling at me, you pour the pitcher full of cum into the cone, nearly filling it. Slowly, you pull the cone from my wrecked sluthole, letting every drop of that nasty sperm run out the hole at the end and into my filthy rectal tunnel. Once I'm full up and the cone is completely out of me, you place the pitcher on the floor, and with the help of one of the bikers, pick me up. You tip me down, pointing my seeping asshole at the container. Cum mixed with the filth from deep up in me rushes out and fills the pitcher again, this time with an even nastier concoction.
I smile just looking at it, and reach out for the pitcher with weak arms. You hold the glass to my lips for me and start to slowly pour, giving me mouthful after mouthful of disgusting cum and ass juice. I swallow and swallow, finally getting my fill of what I've wanted so bad for so long. I let it all run down my slutty throat, never missing a drop. With my fingers, I scrape out the inside of the pitcher until it's squeaky clean, swallowing every drop.
When it's finally clean, I look around the room and see the looks on all these men's faces, completely disgusted and turned on at the same time. The total degradation of the whole night sinks in, and I reach down and touch my split-apart clit just once, and I cum all over again, my body twitching as I lose all control and my cunt sprays cum and piss all over me again. This time, it's too much though, and I pass out.
You thank all the guys and wrap me up in a blanket. You throw me in the car and take me back to your place, where this all started. You pull into the garage and close the door before you get me out of the car. There is no doubt that I'm the nastiest slut cunt in the world now. I'm covered head to toe in pussy juice and piss, my asshole is torn open and hanging loose enough to put your fist in without touching the sides. In contrast, my cunt is swollen completely shut from the repeated whippings, but not even a finger entered it the whole night. My lips are puffy, my nipples are bruised and split.
In my stomach is a gallon of cum and ass juice from a bar full of bikers. And I came over and over again from all of it. I am the filthiest, nastiest, sickest slut ever, period.
You get me out of the car and realize that I'm dead weight, and not very easy to carry. You go into the house to try and find something to help you, and when you come back, I'm awake, kneeling on shaky knees, my hand between my legs. You look at me in complete disbelief. I smile up at you weakly.
"Pussy," I mumble. "You never fucked me."
You know you should just ignore it and get me cleaned up, but something in you snaps. You rush over and grab me by the hair, slapping my face. You spit in my face and call me every cruel, demeaning name you can think of, but I just sort of giggle. Finally, you've had enough and whip your cock out. It's still soft and sore from fucking me all day, but you can still give me something. You slap it across my slutty face and then grab my hair tighter and start to piss right in my face.
I let out a happy yelp and open my mouth, drinking you deep. You piss in my mouth, my hair, in my eyes, everywhere. Seeing me there, eagerly taking your piss like a total whore, your cock just inches from my face, you feel it come alive in your hand. By the time you're done pissing on me, it's hard as a rock. I see it through tear and piss-stained eyes and try to get it in my mouth. You jam it into my face, slamming it down my throat as hard as you can. You gag-fuck me with everything.
You've got until you suddenly remember that my cunt was never fucked by those bikers. You throw me down on my back and rip my legs as far apart as you can. I'm too weak to do much, other than beg you to fuck my cunt as hard as you possibly can.
My cunt is a river of girl cum, and you rub your cock through it trying to find my only untouched fuck hole. All the slapping and whipping has made it so swollen it's closed up tight, but I beg you to take it anyway. To rip it open and tear it apart with your cock.
You find the clenched hole and push, pulling me up onto you, finally tearing through, and filling me. I'm so swollen that my cunt feels tighter than anything you've ever felt. Tighter than any ass you've ever fucked, tighter even than any throat you've ever choke-fucked. It's so wet though, so much girl cum all over your cock. You fuck me so hard, hammering into me violently, loving how my destroyed asshole feels when your balls smack against them.
The whole time, your face is right up close to mine. You're spitting on me and telling me just how fucking sick and nasty I am for actually getting off on what those bikers did to me. I'm writhing under you, finally knowing what it feels like to be completely and totally fucked.
You can tell I don't have anything left in me and mercifully decide to make this quick. You reach under us and find my asshole with your fingers. It's totally destroyed, ripped apart. You push your entire hand inside at once, and I barely notice. You push your fingers through the wall of my ass against your cock in my cunt, and actually manage to half-grab it. While you fuck my swollen cunt, you jerk yourself off with your hand up my ass.
As soon as I realize what you're doing, I lose it. One last time and with all the strength I have left, my cunt spasms around you, squeezing you so tight that you can't stand it anymore. You rip your cock from my grabbing slut hole and move up my body. Putting your cock against my lips, you start to cum. Almost unconscious, I suck at it, managing to drink down every last drop of your cum as I drift off into sleep. | null | null | Authors/theprince/Pain Loving Cum Slut.txt |
92,429 | Aimee | "Tag, You're It" | You find the note in your dresser. The envelope is a dark cream paper, sealed with wax. My initial. You break the seal and remove the folded card inside. Violet ink, which smells of lavender. It reads:
"I'm bored. Do you want to play?
If you do, look behind you."
Startled, you turn around. Sitting on the headboard of your bed is a black box, wrapped with a red bow. Without hesitation, you take it. You open it, the bow slipping easily under your touch. Inside...
Two black stockings, silk, woven in an intricate chessboard pattern. Light and dark. Light and dark. How long do you ponder my note? How long does it take you to decide to put them on? A second? Longer? I do not know. But you do. I see you walking down the street wearing them, in a skirt a bit too short, showing off just a hint of the garter holding them to your thighs.
I watch you on your way to work, looking over your shoulder. Enjoying the glances from the strangers admiring your body. And trying to catch me, watching you. Where am I? You smile, wondering what I have up my sleeve.
You are at work for some time before it strikes you: How did I get into your room?
You spend the day in anticipation. Every time a door opens, you expect it to be me here for... what? The anticipation is exhilarating. Then it becomes frustrating. Where the hell am I? Your lunch hour comes, and you walk to the park, perhaps expecting me to jump out at you. And all the time you walk, the strange weave of the chessboard pattern brushes against your inner thigh, warmer and warmer. Your blood begins to rise, and I am nowhere to be seen.
The day goes on, and the anticipation, the arousal becomes almost crippling. Every step you take, even when you turn in your chair, and the stocking slide over your thighs. It's killing you.
Friends invite you out to drinks afterwards, including a cute new girl who previously never wanted to join in the after-hours group, and whom you caught more than once looking at those new stockings of yours. But you decline. Where. The hell. Am. I? Every ring of the phone, every email is supposed to be from me, giving you some idea of what is to come. But there is nothing.
Home? Yes, that's it. I'll be waiting for you on the way home. You smile. Slyly, you squeeze your legs together, and you have to grit your teeth. Oh, the things you'll do to me...
I am not at your home. There is no note, no message, no other box. You wait. An hour, then two. You have had enough. You call my phone number, and the perky message only enrages you further. You swear, then you remember that I like it when you swear, and erase the message.
Completely enraged, you storm upstairs. You tear off everything, every scrap of clothing from the loose white top over the black lace bra which shown underneath to the too-short skirt which almost whines as it is peeled off of your hips. And those damn silk stockings? You tie those into a knot. That'll show me.
Too angry even to relieve yourself, you fall into bed and fitfully surrender to sleep. But first you make sure to double-lock the door.
What you dream, you cannot remember, except that it ends in warmth. You hear humming, and slowly you ascend from sleep. Your eyes adjust to the light in the room. You shake the sleep from your mind and try to stretch.
You cannot stretch. Your arms are tied to the bed. They are tied by the black silk stockings I gave you, still in the knot you made.
You become more aware. The light is flickering. You look at the wall below you. Projected on it is film. Of you. Today. Walking down the street. Walking in the park. Even, in part, walking around at work. The camera is shaky, handheld, but always very, very close. How did I get so close to you? Was it even me? The footage does not stay in one place, it roams over your body. Your breasts in the black bra under the white shirt. Your ass, in the too-tight skirt with the tiny notch in the hem... Your thighs, and the stockings.
"What is this," you think, your mind still cloudy, and then it all becomes clear when your mind comes back to the humming sound. It is not the projector, nor the silent film. It is me, sitting by the window. Watching the film, and touching myself.
Were you angry at me? You cannot remember as you watch my body ride itself against the settee you use for your makeup table. In the flickering light, it takes you a moment to realize how I am dressed. A full-body stocking, in the same chessboard pattern. I lean against the wall, one hand between my legs, the other on my breasts, pushing them as my humming moan becomes louder. Louder. Louder. Your name escapes my lips in a final sigh, and I double over.
Before you can speak, my hands move. They find a flaw in the the body stocking, near the neck, and tear it. The sound shocks you, perhaps. I stand, still pull at the fabric, and staggering towards you, I pull it free from my body as I reach your bed.
I stand above you, naked.
You open your mouth to speak, and I place my finger in your mouth, on your tongue. With my other hand, I drag the remains of my stocking across your lips, removing my finger. You can taste me, and I burn your tongue. I tie the stocking in your mouth, and you swallow. You are not truly gagged, but you know you should not speak.
I lower myself between your legs. I can sense your energy. The arousal I have built up, and denied, then built up, and denied throughout the day. There is a small, raw spot where the hem of the stocking as rubbed your leg. I touch it with my tongue, and you go rigid.
I deny you one last time, kissing, licking, stroking around your thighs and stomach, but not touching your sex. You try to direct me, command me, control me with your legs, but I grasp them with hands and hold you to the bed.
Finally, finally, finally, I press my lips against you and give one long, light stroke. You heave against me; the release is like a deluge.
Suddenly I am everywhere. My hands are on your breasts, rubbing your ass, stroking the back of your kneecap. And always my tongue is moving, moving inside you. Your mind goes white, but only for a moment.
I loosen your hands, but you cannot move. I lay myself on top of you, and tug the fabric from your mouth. I seem as exhausted as you. I put my lips next to your ear.
"Did you enjoy playing with me?"
You moan in assent.
I bite your ear. "Good. Because now," I slap your hip, once, "you're it."
I leave the room. You hear zippers, the sounds of dressing. You hear me move down the stairs, and then out the door, locking it behind me.
And on the wall, the film begins to sputter and die, leaving only the white of the naked projector's bulb, projecting clean, pure light, onto a dark cream note, written in violet ink. | null | null | Authors/Kelly/www/Aimee3.txt |
92,480 | David | June - Happy Birthday!!! | You stretch out, waking slowly, noticing that you are in a big warm bed that is not home. Oh yeah, the spa.
The bed is empty, sunlight streams through windows and skylights. Beyond the jacuzzi are a pair of French doors that lead out onto a small patio that is surrounded by cedars, blocking the view of anyone who might pass by. On the patio table is a vase of your favorite flowers, a bowl of fresh fruit - melons, strawberries, peaches - and a large pot of coffee with two cups. Gretchen sits slouched naked in a chair, a cup nestled between her breasts, eyes watching you as her body is enveloped in the golden glow of the morning sun.
She stands and pours a second cup of coffee. Through the open doors, she walks dressed in nothing but a smile and the glow of the sun. Naked yet with the grace of a queen, comfortable in her finest gown.
"Here you go, birthday girl, something to get your blood going this fine morning," she says as she hands you the cup. You take a sip and relish the rich flavor. Just the right mixture of coffee and real cream. After your first sip of coffee, Gretchen leans over you, taking your face in her hand and tilting your lips up so that she can give you a kiss. A kiss filled with promise, a kiss filled with the joy of being together with someone you love.
The kiss goes on and on and on. The coffee is almost forgotten, but Gretchen takes the cup from your hand and stands up.
"Enough of that, sleepyhead! I want you for breakfast out on the patio, so go to the bathroom and come on out."It is gorgeous, just the right skin temperature," she says as she bounces off the bed without spilling a drop from either of your cups. Her hips sway enticingly as she walks out the door into the sunlight.
The bathroom is a little disconcerting. There is a floor-to-ceiling window, yet the landscaping is such that you can see out just fine, but no one could see in unless they were standing right outside the window. Bladder relieved, you look at the shower for a second and then smell the coffee. Caffeine first, shower second.
The sun is warm. It feels exceedingly decadent to be sitting naked outside, good coffee at hand, sweet fruit being fed to you by Gretchen. She feeds you a strawberry as you lean back in your seat. You slowly nibble the fruit from her fingers, then slowly nibble her fingers, lightly taking them into your mouth as if they were little cocks. She feeds you another strawberry, and you repeat the performance. As you work through your first cup of coffee, Gretchen feeds you little bites of this or that. Finally, she picks up a peach and straddles your lap. The scene is one that a Pre-Raphaelite would have loved to have painted. Two beautiful women, one feeding the other, both of them obviously content.
Gretchen takes a big bite out of the peach. It is ripe and so juicy that the juice overflows her mouth. Sweet liquid trails down the corners of her mouth. Golden droplets splash onto her chest and breasts as she slowly, seductively chews her mouthful of peach. She leans forward, offering her peaches to you. Your tongue slowly laps up the peach juice, giving you a tantalizing taste of what you want to fill your mouth with. Your tongue traces the path of the juice, cleaning her chest, tops of her breasts, neck, and chin, finally coming to her lips, where you two kiss for an eternity.
You both come up for air, and Gretchen is feeding you the peach, asking you to take the next bite. The texture is perfect - soft, succulent, sweet, and pulpy without being hard or overripe. The juice is even more concentrated now and is so sweet and good that you too take an oversized bite. The juice is cool where it hits your sun-warmed skin, and you can feel it creating a rivulet into your cleavage. You watch Gretchen's eyes as you slowly take another bite, causing more juice to flow. Gretchen licks her lips as you watch her eyes follow the path the juice takes. Her look is one of hunger. A hunger that you know only too well. A hunger for a different juice than the one covering your breasts.
Another bite fuels the rivulet more, and you can feel the juice trail through your breasts onto your belly to your belly button. Your belly button fills with the juice from the next bite until it overflows and trickles down ever lower. Gretchen takes the peach and slides down your outstretched legs. You can feel as she slides that the peach is not the only thing juicy. She parts your legs with hers as she kneels to catch the peach juice as it hits the top crease of your bare pussy. Gretchen's tongue slowly catches every drop as she licks out your belly button and then follows the trail up through your cleavage and up your neck, across your chin, and finally to your mouth. She looms over you as she devours your mouth, her hands holding her up by pressing against your breasts. She is hungry, but the peach won't satisfy her now.
She reaches down and runs her finger up and down the folds of your vagina. Slowly the petals part. Slowly another flow of juice is freed and starts to trickle. Gretchen kisses her way back down your chin, neck, chest until she has one of your peaches in one hand and her mouth around the nipple that tops the other. Her deft fingers are playing a sweet rhythm along the cleft of your cunt and across your clit as her tongue performs the same against your nipple. She sucks your nipple hard into her mouth and bites slightly as her two fingers slowly penetrate your core. A hiss of pleasure escapes your lips as the pleasure races through you. She works her fingers against all of the pleasure points she knows so well. Her mouth moves from breast to clit as she kneels between your legs. Your thighs rest lightly on her shoulders, and you can feel the strength of her supporting you as she goes to work on your sweet cunt.
She is in heaven as she sucks, licks, and fingers you. You know that this is part of her gift to you, and you lay back enjoying every decadent moment. Her mouth and hands bring you so much pleasure that you are soon adding your song to that of the birds. Morning songs that fill the air."A familiar voice with a French accent asks with the hint of a smile. Your eyes pop open to see Arianna wearing a white lab coat with the spa's name emblazoned over the left breast. Her shapely, toned legs stretch beneath the hem, and you are certain that she is wearing no more than you beneath her smock.
"What..." you start to say in shocked, pleasant surprise as you look first to Arianna and then to Gretchen.
"Shh, my friend, sit back, close your eyes, and enjoy. This is your day of pampering, and hopefully your night of pampering and joy as well. We will have time to catch up later; for now, let me please you," she says as she finishes applying the mask. You can feel it doing its magic as it tingles and seals. You sit back and let the warm mud relax you as well. You can hear Arianna and Gretchen whispering as Arianna applies the mask to Gretchen as well, but their words are too soft to make out, and you know that it is only something that will be revealed to you in its own time.
You fade off to sleep, dreaming about the last time Arianna flew into town and the fun the two of you shared. How you shaved her pussy clean and then checked to make sure that the shave was close enough, as well as no cuts were made. How she, in turn, taught you things that you were able to later do to Gretchen.
A timer dings, and you feel Arianna's gentle hands tweak your nipples lightly to awaken you. "Come on, sleepy head, time to wash off and get to your massage. The masseuse will be most displeased if you are too late. Come, follow me." Arianna leads you and Gretchen to one side of the room where there are shower heads and hoses for washing off. As she nears the wall, she opens her smock and lets it fall as if walking naked is the most natural thing in the world. You marvel at how well she has kept her body for a woman over 40, hoping that you too can keep that kind of tone in the next 20 years as you reach her age. Arianna turns on the showers and has you and Gretchen stand beneath the spray. The mud starts to slough off your bodies, but not fast enough to suit her, and she grabs the hose. She squirts Gretchen first, and she squeals in delight as the blast hits her. There are several hoses, and each of you grabs one, starting an impromptu water fight.
You all giggle and laugh as the jets hit each other, and before you know it, both you and Gretchen have no traces of mud left, and all three of you are completely soaked. The hoses fall, and you pull Arianna into a hug of joy and welcome. She kisses you deeply in welcome, as well as promises of pleasure. "There will be time for that later, but now we must dry you off and get you to the masseuse!" Both Arianna and Gretchen grab towels and begin to rub you dry, one taking your body, the other your head.
Arianna and Gretchen both end up drying your legs, and neither one can stand not running their tongues up the length of your thighs. They each take one side and meet at your vagina. You spread your legs, and one goes high while the other goes low. Their two tongues tantalize and tease until your knees weaken, and you come again. It is a small orgasm, but they both giggle and kiss each other, licking your juices from the others' face. They throw a robe at you and send you down the hall to a door marked MASSEUSE.
The room is plain, with only a massage table covered in a pair of sheets. Soft music is playing from hidden speakers. You lay down on your belly in anticipation of the massage to come. Naked beneath the sheet, you wait and, in waiting, fall off into a sweet slumber, thinking about all the things a combination like Arianna and Gretchen could do.
End of Part 3
June - Happy Birthday!!!! part 4
Off on the edges of your sleep, you can feel it. Warm, strong, oiled hands working the knots out of your shoulders. "Mmmm, that feels good," you sigh as the hands continue in silence. Long, strong strokes along the tops of your shoulders. Small circles flowing with your muscles. Along the lines of your scapula and then circles in opposite directions along either side of your spine. Your lower back screams in pleasure as the knots are found and released. This masseuse works magic as his hands travel down your back, lowering the sheet as they go.
They reach the top of your ass and do long strokes from the small of your back to your shoulders and then down again. You open your eyes and can see a strong pair of thighs and a really nice bum wrapped in lycra. The outline of the masseuse's cock is visible, for lycra is very unforgiving. The form is nice and appears to be semi-hard. From your position, you can't see the face of the masseuse, but those legs, that ass, and that cock all look familiar.
The sheet is brought back over your back to keep you warm as the masseuse moves down to start working on your feet and then up your legs. He spends at least 10 minutes on each foot. You are in decadent revelry as you lay there, eyes closed, thinking about this morning and what is yet to come. The tension in your calves is released, and the hands are moving up your thighs, finding knots you didn't know existed. Then the hands are on your ass and inner thighs. Your legs part slightly, and you can feel the moisture that hasn't quite gone away since you got here.
"Would M'Lady please roll over?" the masseuse asks, and you know for sure that it is me, but you relax and let the massage go on. I start with your hands, each in its turn being massaged, and then each arm. Shoulders massaged from the front, using your own weight to give leverage and relax knots. Your face gently massaged after my hands have worked most of the oil into other parts of your body. My hands start massaging the top of your chest below your collarbone, starting to run along the sides of your chest, ignoring your beautiful breasts. I lean down and whisper, "Happy Birthday," as my thumbs rise up and flick across each of your nipples. You draw in a sharp breath as my fingers surround your rising nubs and gently squeeze. My lips kiss your ear, and then my tongue traces a trail from ear to jaw, along your neck, to your collarbone, and down the length of your cleavage.
My tongue circles around one breast, performing a figure eight with the apex at your cleavage and around the other. Concentric circles until I flick first one and then the other of your nipples. Slowly, I bite my teeth around one nipple and hold it in place for my tongue to flick quickly against it. My teeth scrape along its length as I release your breast from my mouth and repeat the maneuver on the other side. My hands continue to massage your back from the front while my tongue works. My hands are at the small of your back as my mouth traverses your belly, stopping only momentarily to tickle your belly button.
My hands stroke along the length of your thighs as I lick from the inside of one knee up your inner thigh to that tendon right at the joint of thigh to pelvis. Your legs have fallen to either side of the massage table, and I pull you forward along the table until the edge of your ass is at the edge of the table. I have a small stool that is the perfect height so that I can sit at the table's end with your thighs over my shoulders, your legs draped across my back while my mouth covers your cunt.
You are so wet. I have never seen you so wet. I have no idea how many times you have come since getting here, but I can tell from the color of your vaginal lips that you have been getting a fair amount of attention. My tongue is slow and gentle. Long, slow strokes from the opening of your vagina all the way to the tip of your clit and then back down again. I slide a finger into you and hear you sigh. I can feel how well lubricated you are, yet how tight you are as well. Your juices are sweet, and I can feel your walls contracting around my finger with each flick of my tongue across your clit. "My, you are hot. Have you gotten too much attention already today? Do you not want any more attention for a while?" I ask with a slight smirk to my voice.
"Don't stop, David, that feels soooooo good. How could I get too much attention?" you reply as you lock your feet behind my head and pull me against your vagina, telling me to stop teasing and get down to a good pussy licking. You shudder with a small orgasm, and I raise my head enough to ask, "So you aren't too sore or tired for a little bit of cock?"
"David, if you don't give me your cock now, I will see that it is cut off and stuffed so that I can have it whenever I want! Shut up and fuck me!!!!"
I stand between your legs, your ankles over my shoulders, your ass in my hands, and my cock slides along the crack of your ass until the tip is right at the entrance to your vagina. I slowly rock my hips forward until the tip is just inside of you. We both hiss with the intake of breath at the pleasure of the tip just entering you. Only that first inch, then two, then I am rocking back and forth, fucking you with only the first two inches. "Oh, that feels so good," you sigh as I use the tempo you have taught me over the last couple of months. As my cock is lubricated by your plentiful juices, I start to penetrate just a little deeper, just a little longer, and then I slide all the way home.
Your gasp is my reward. Your eyes boring into mine as you feel me all the way inside of you, balls slapping against your ass, is worth the long wait between last month and this. "Oh yeah, David, that is so good. Now fuck me, fuck me hard, make me come..."
I hold onto your thighs tightly as I rock my hips faster and faster, long, deep, fast strokes in and out of you. One of my hands reaches down and strokes your clit as I pump in and out of you. This is not the long, slow fuck that I had originally planned, but the passion of the moment has consumed us both, so that now the feel of my hard cock inside of your tightening cunt is just too good a feeling not to use hard and fast. Faster and faster I plunge. Your ass is pounding against the table.The table is starting to walk across the room, and I am having to walk forward with each thrust just to keep you on the table. Finally, the table is up against the wall and will go no farther. My cock is pounding into you faster and faster, my balls feel great slapping against your ass, and I suck your big toe into my mouth, sucking it like you suck my cock, and you go wild. You pull my thumb away from your clit, and I can feel the wild contractions of your cunt as you orgasm around my cock. Your scream of pleasure is too much for me, and I start squirting my seed deep within you, triggering yet another peak.
I slow down my thrusts as the last of my come spurts inside of you and just oozes. Your breathing starts to come back down to normal as I pull out, but I drop down to cover your vagina with my mouth, and I start sucking you clean. I suck out your vagina, and I hear you gasp in pleasure as my tongue tickles your clit again, and your breathing gets more ragged again. I suck your clit, and your hands are in my hair, pulling me away, and then in the next second, pulling my head hard against your clit as you come harder than I have seen you come in a long time.
Your body is wasted after your orgasm, and I pick you up. Your head lays against my shoulder as I carry you to your room. I watch your eyes flutter open and close as you fight to stay awake, but you are extremely drained. No more energy is left within you for the moment. I enter your room and lay you down on your bed, covering you up as you curl around your pillows and fall into a deep sleep.
As you fall off, you can barely hear me saying hi to Gretchen. You just barely hear me tell her that the dining room will be ready at 6:30. You hear Gretchen giggle, and then she closes the door behind me. Her body curls up behind you on the bed, and you are fast asleep.
What is that irritating noise? You wonder as you start to come out of a sweet slumber. A slumber where you have been dreaming about a weekend at a spa where there is no one else around but your lovers. A weekend of pleasure for your birthday. You have a warm, sticky feeling between your legs that suggests this may be more of a reality than you first think. But there is that persistent sound again. It is a phone ringing, but it is not the phone at home, which seems odd. Gretchen is curled up behind you, fast asleep. You reach to the side table and lift the receiver.
"Madam, your dinner reservations are for a table on the patio at 6:30. This is just a gentle reminder that you now have 40 minutes before dinner is served," a soft, friendly voice tells you through the phone. Your sleepy head is slowly clearing as you say thank you and hang up.
"Gretchen, you slug, wake up!" you say as you playfully punch her in the arm. She groans, not remembering where she is at first.
"Oh, shit! Dinner! What time is it?" She screams as she sits up.
"Don't worry, only 40 minutes before dinner. What's the rush?" you ask as she jumps out of bed, throwing open the closet, pulling out your little black dress and a pair of heels. She pulls out her dress that matches.
"Quick, into the shower with you! This is a dinner that you won't want to miss," she says as she pushes you toward the shower in the room. Her hands pull the towel off your body, the only thing left from your earlier massage. She throws off her T-shirt and shorts just as quickly and starts to wash your hair as you lounge under the pounding spray.
"Why can't you slow down and enjoy the shower?" you ask as she is efficiently but quickly washing your legs and pubis.
"Because I want to have you clean, shaved, and dry before dinner, and if I don't hurry, we will be late."
"But I am the birthday girl. Won't they wait for me?" you ask as she has you sit on the little stool built into the wall of the shower. She has already lathered up your mostly smooth leg and efficiently shaves one leg quickly before she answers.
"Well, yes, they will wait, but I don't think that I want to wait, let alone you wouldn't want to wait if you knew what I knew," she says with an evil glint in her eyes.
"Then be quick with that razor, missy, but don't you dare nick me!"
Her hands are deft but functional. Even as she has you stretch back and works on your pubis, she is not distracted by the beautiful, glistening folds of your vagina. She does, however, run her tongue over the freshly shaved skin to check its smoothness once she has you rinsed off.
"There, all fresh and clean. Give me a second, and I will dry you off, my princess," she says as she won't allow you to lift a finger.
"Don't you need a shave, lover?" you ask as she does a quick wash and rinse.
"Nope, took care of that while you were getting your massage. Now shake that cute butt of yours out of this shower, and let's get you dressed!" She says with a quick slap of your butt. She grabs one of the spa's big, fluffy towels and quickly dries you off. Not too quickly that she doesn't admire the flow of line from shoulder to chest, abdomen to hip, hip to ass, ass to thigh, thigh into calf, and finally to foot.
"Go fix your face, but don't use too much makeup. It just might get in the way later," she says with a twinkle in her eye as she dries herself off. She joins you at the mirror. Two beautiful, sexy women putting on just a little eyeliner, a little blush, and a little lipstick, the kind advertised not to smudge off on your lover's collar.
"So I see you have chosen our dresses, but what underwear should we wear?" you ask, knowing the answer before you even asked.
"It's David's party for you. What do you think?" she says as she flicks the end of her towel at your ass to get you moving to the other side of the room.
"I figured as much, but I just thought I would make sure."
"Hold up your arms," Gretchen commands as you get to your dresses. She drops yours over your head and runs her hands down your silk-covered sides to smooth out any wrinkles. "Your turn," you reply, returning the favor. At the bedside, there are your favorite pumps for this dress and a pair for Gretchen as well. The two of you stand side by side, looking at yourselves in the floor-length mirror.
"Damn, don't we look good!" you say in unison as you stand, your arms around each other's waist.
"Well, my love, shall we go to dinner?" Gretchen asks as she extends her arm to escort you off.
You are greeted at the entrance to the dining room by Arianna, dressed in a floor-length black dress with a high front that reveals just the trace of her collarbone and fine neck. Her dark hair is piled into a French twist that exposes her elegant, swan-like neck to good advantage. As she leads you to your table, you note her fine leg playing hide and seek as she walks. A slit that seems to go from floor to the top of her hip has you knowing that there is nothing covering the lower half of Arianna except this black dress. As she turns away, you gasp, for her dress is elegantly fashioned so that it drapes off her shoulders, bares her arms, as well as her entire back down to the top of her ass. Folds of elegant cloth hide yet reveal. Arianna has the poise and grace to pull off this dress, and you marvel at how she can walk so gracefully in the 3-inch stilettos.
Arianna leads you out to a table on a secluded patio. Hidden speakers pump light jazz out onto the verandah as the sun starts its descent. The sky is turning from light blue to Maxfield Parrish skies of blue, gold, and burnt umber. She holds out a chair for you, and then for Gretchen.
"Is there anything that I can get for you ladies before your appetizers come?" she asks as you find the slit of her skirt and slide your hand slowly up the inside of her thigh to find that she is just as clean-shaven as you and that she is just a little damp.
"Hmmm, a little Champagne? Or do you have another vintage that I would prefer?" you ask with a devilish smirk as your fingers part her labia, and you hear her sigh as you touch her clit.
"Ah, Mademoiselle, you have such a fine touch. I am sure that you will get your fill before the night is done."
Arianna turns to an ice bucket just behind a potted fern, pulls out a bottle that you recognize from your trip to Paris as an exceptionally fine Champagne. You notice that your table is clear of any settings, and you understand why as Arianna deftly lifts her leg up and over your head in a graceful move that ends with her sitting in front of you with her legs spread wide, her vagina opened as a vessel before you. She lays a large napkin in your lap and then offers you the bottle. "Would Mademoiselle like to pour for herself?"
Gretchen takes the bottle as you run your hands lightly over Arianna's thighs. You lightly lick the length of her slit, tease her clit for a second, and then nod to Gretchen, who slowly trickles a little stream of Champagne over Arianna's clit as you quickly lap it up. Arianna shivers, whether from the cold wine trickling over her clit or the ministrations of your tongue makes no difference. The mixture of the two wines is heady stuff and has you moaning in pleasure as well. Just as you start to get into things, the Champagne stops flowing, and you notice you have licked Arianna clean. She performs that lovely pirouette in reverse, produces two Champagne flutes from thin air and pours a glass for you and Gretchen, fills her own mouth from the bottle, and then kisses you full on the mouth, transferring a shared mouthful of wine with the kiss.
"I will be more than happy to be Mademoiselle's vessel later, but this is just the appetizer," she says and then walks away, her hips swaying enticingly. Gretchen reaches for your hand as the two of you watch the sun turn the sky into all of the colors of nature's palette. You both sip your Champagne in silence, listening to the light jazz as well as the bird songs of evening.Your reverie is interrupted as Kate walks up with a platter in her hands. You look up and smile, for she is wearing a lovely French Maid outfit complete with fishnet stockings that have a seam line up the back of her shapely legs. She, like Arianna, is one of those women who can navigate while walking on three-inch stilts. But the effect on her is stupendous, as the line of her leg and her accentuated ass are fine evidence. The outfit is a black bodice that laces up tight along her back, and a skirt that is so short you can almost make out the bottom of her pelvis as she stands before you with her silver platter.
She leans over to serve you an appetizer of artichoke hearts in a sharp cheese sauce, with bread chips. The bodice has her breasts tightly compressed, giving her small chest a cleavage she would not have otherwise. Her cascade of red hair is held back in a black ribbon and a French braid. You can tell that since March, it has grown even longer, for her braid now hits the middle of her back. You want to just pull on that braid until her head tilts up, and you can kiss her full on the mouth, but that may be for later. She seems to take great pride in serving you this first course. Her smile is radiant, and it seems like she is working extremely hard not to laugh as she continues her charade.
She steps around you to serve Gretchen, her back towards you as she leans forward from the waist. Her short skirt rises with her motion, revealing the black lines of her garters framing her creamy, lightly freckled ass, obviously from being nude in the summer sun. You lean forward just a little and are able to kiss that sweet, finely toned ass as she serves your lover. Your hand runs up the inside of her thigh, over the stocking. Running your finger along the edge of her stocking, you feel her start to tremble as she continues to lean over Gretchen. She spreads her legs slightly, and you reach up to her pussy, feeling just a fine framing of light hair trimmed close, but just enough to provide an elegant frame to her pink petals. Pubic hair that you know is a lighter red than the flaming tresses of her head. She is as wet as you are growing to be, and your fingers slide easily into her. Her gasp is muffled, and you look up to see her face buried in Gretchen's chest, Kate's mouth full of pink hard nipple.
You slide your chair so that you can turn to eat the clean, fresh-smelling redhead's cunt. She moans into your lover's breast as your tongue hits her clit. You are in an awkward position, so you use both your fingers and tongue to take her to a beautiful climax as quickly as possible. As you lick her clit, she bucks her hips back onto your hand, fucking your hand as you slide in and out of her with a tempo that her hips give you. You hear Gretchen breathe in sharply as Kate's vaginal muscles clamp around your fingers, and you watch her skirt tremble in response to the reaction of her abdomen to her climax.
"Lighter, please," you hear Gretchen suggest to Kate as you lick up the insides of Kate's thighs and slowly remove your fingers from her snatch. As she stands, you can see the marks of Kate's teeth on Gretchen's nipple before she lifts the strap of Gretchen's dress up to cover her breast again. Kate turns and lightly takes your fingers to her mouth, where she slowly, sensuously, and efficiently sucks her own juices off your finely tapered fingers. She sucks each of your fingers in a manner you know only too well from watching her suck your cock. The sensation sends shivers through your body and helps add to the moisture growing between your thighs.
Kate pours a little more Champagne into your flutes and leaves you with a sigh to eat your artichoke hearts. The sun has almost set, and the sky is darkening as you notice that the taste of Kate goes very well with the cheese and artichokes. Gretchen's hand is holding yours on your thigh as the two of you eat in silence, enjoying the play of friends, good food, and beautiful scenery, both flora and fauna.
Kate returns with a flushed look on her face to remove the service, clearing your table. Arianna returns with new place settings of fine china and silver. She uncorks and offers a taste of a wonderful red wine for your approval. You nod yes, as if this was just another special dinner out with Gretchen in a fancy restaurant. Arianna pours a glass for each of you, and you both sip in silence, wondering what will be the next course.
You don't have long to wait, for in a moment, I come in pushing a covered silver cart. I am wearing a full black tux complete with cummerbund, pleated shirt, and bow tie. You like the way the austere black accentuates my shoulders and the way that the pants flow over my ass as I serve first you and then Gretchen a beautiful serving of Prime Rib with steamed asparagus and new potatoes on the side. The plate is beautiful, but it is nothing compared to the way you look to me.
"Oh, what a beautiful slab of beef, and the Prime Rib looks good too," you quip as you pull my lapels so that I am forced down to your mouth for a deep, long kiss.
"Mmmm, that tastes good, but you better eat your dinner before it gets cold," I say as I hold your hand for a moment, kiss the palm, and then gently step back. "Spoilsport!" you counter as you slap my retreating ass. "I expect one hell of a dessert!" you laugh as I walk out of the room so that you and Gretchen can enjoy dinner together.
"Don't worry, lover, I know what is on the menu for dessert, and you are just going to love it," Gretchen says with an evil grin.
The meat is warm and tender, but you are already thinking of other meat. The asparagus tastes good as well, perfectly steamed so that it is warm yet crisp. The potatoes are lightly garlic-seasoned with a little sage on the side. The flavors are wonderful. Gretchen's fingers have traveled up the inside of your thighs as you eat Prime Rib so tender you can cut it with your fork. Her fingers find your clit as the sun sets, and you finish your steak. You lean back in your chair, opening your legs, raising the hem of your skirt so that she can have easier access as you slowly sip the wonderful red wine.
While you revel in the feel of Gretchen's fingers, Kate, Arianna, and I come in and clear the table. Gretchen has you incredibly wet and hungry. Although your belly is full, your cunt is feeling incredibly empty. You start to pull Gretchen towards you, but she stands and backs away just a step. The song "Happy Birthday" starts coming through the speakers softly as we all come in, rolling a cart of ice cream and various toppings. Gretchen reaches down to her hem and, in one fluid motion, lifts her dress up and over her head to stand naked before you. She walks over the table and sits before you, her legs spread wide, her cunt on the edge of the table. She leans down and kisses you full on the mouth, her tongue interlacing with yours as only the tongue of a long-time lover and partner is capable of doing. A kiss that hits your core and has you moaning with pleasure in the kiss, anticipation of what that kiss promises will be coming, as well as the knowledge of that kiss never ending, even though your lips may part, the kiss goes on in your everyday life.
As the birthday song goes on, we all stand before you, and each take a turn in removing our clothes for you in a silly strip tease. Arianna is far from silly as she gracefully steps forward, with the shrug of her shoulders, the top of her dress falls to her hips. Her womanly curves of hip and ass stop the fabric from falling to the floor, but with a sensuous shimmy, she works the fabric over her hips until it falls to her ankles. She slowly sashays to your chair, lifts her leg, and stretches it straight up in the air so that her vagina is spread wide open just at your mouth's level. You start to tongue her vagina and clit. She shivers slightly and then twirls away so that you can watch Kate take her turn.
Kate is even easier to undress, for she only pulls a tab on her skirt, and it rips away, leaving her standing in her bodice, garters, stockings, and heels. She tugs on the bottom of her corset, and her nipples pop out of the top, the corset holding them nicely so that as she stands before you and shimmies, you lean forward to plant a quick kiss on each of her lovely pink nubs.
The only ones fully clothed are you and me. The music switches from "Happy Birthday" to a true stripper tune, or at least one that makes me think of sex every time I hear Joe Cocker sing: "You Can Leave Your Hat On." The tux jacket falls from my shoulders and is caught in one hand as I walk towards you. I throw the jacket over my shoulder for a moment and then hand it to Arianna, who makes it disappear. I slowly roll my shoulders as I untie my tie and unbutton each of the shirt's studs. I make a production of removing the shirt's cuff links, handing them to Kate, who disposes of them appropriately. There is a naked woman in front of you and one on either side of me as I slowly continue to tease you. You are slowly petting Gretchen's pussy as you watch me dance. Your thumb easily slides over her clit, lubricated with her own juices, your fingers slide in and out slowly in time with Mr. Cocker's imploring to 'leave your hat on.'
I drop the shirt from my shoulders, and you admire the effect that several weeks of stomach crunches and push-ups have done to my chest and abs. You lightly trace the definition with your free hand and then slowly open the belt, button, and fly. I dance back quickly before you can reach in and slowly bend over with my back towards you. I know exactly what effect this has on my pants as they stretch over my ass, accentuating my lines and the lines of my thighs as I untie my shoes, take each one off, and then remove my socks before I slowly stand up again.As I reach my full height, I allow the pants to fall, and all that I am wearing is a black thong bikini that is tied on in the back by a simple red ribbon. I dance towards you slowly, swaying my hips in a provocative manner that has you and the other women all laughing. I smile and shimmy in place until you reach around and untie the ribbon so that the thong falls away and my rigid cock stands before your smiling lips.
"Happy Birthday!" I say as you look down and laugh even harder at the red ribbon around my cock. You untie it with your teeth and then slowly suck me all the way into your throat as you continue to play with Gretchen with your other hand. Your free hand cradles my balls as you start to fuck me with your mouth. Kate twists your chair so that you are now sideways to the table, and she can kneel in front of you, while Arianna stands behind me and strokes my cock in time with your mouth. I fondle your head as you bob up and down on my shaft. I note that the speed with which you dance on my cock is the same speed with which you finger-fuck Gretchen. I hold your head in one hand and reach for Gretchen's with the other. We hold hands as you pleasure both of us.
Kate is sucking on your clit and finger-fucking you in time with all the motions that you are doing as well. It doesn't take long, and I am spurting my come into your mouth, Gretchen is holding your hand tight within her orgasm and contracting thighs, and Kate has you dancing on her hand as we all come together.
We agree that Kate and you are overdressed as we catch our collective breath. You are easy as we have you stand, and Gretchen lifts your dress as easily over your head as hers did earlier.
Kate is a little tougher, and we have her stand before you with her back towards you so that you can undo her corset's lacing. We figured that you should have at least a couple of packages to open. We all unclip her hose as you let the corset fall forward, and we hear Kate sigh as her chest is released. She turns around and puts one foot up on the table, giving you easy access to her hose as you slowly unroll them. Her foot is finally freed, and you lightly kiss her toes. The other stocking is removed in a similar manner, and as the last stocking goes, you see that we have taken spoons and started to scoop out ice cream from an iced tub. Kate lies back, and I drop a dollop of ice cream on one of her shapely cones while Gretchen slathers the ice cream and Kate's tit with Hershey's chocolate syrup. Arianna has the whipped cream and completes the sundae with a cherry on top of Kate's cherry.
"A birthday sundae for me!" you cry in delight before digging in with relish. Soon, everyone is using ice cream, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream in ways that the manufacturers probably never intended. The sweets taste good as we lick them off of each other's bodies. Everyone gets a turn on the table, even you. Gretchen takes your cunt as Arianna and Kate each take a breast. You pour chocolate over my cock and suck me until every drop of syrup is removed. Gretchen has you screaming in pleasure, and you don't even notice when I back away. When you recover enough to get your wits back, you swap places with Gretchen.
Arianna and Kate take turns sucking first Gretchen's nipples and then yours. One or the other's mouth is on your breast, and as you eat out Gretchen, my tongue is sliding up and down your own slit at the same tempo as you tongue-fuck Gretchen. You get her to come once, and before you can raise your head, I am sliding my rock-hard cock into you from behind. I hear your muffled sigh of pleasure as you are filled up from behind. Gretchen pulls your head down against her clit, and I can tell that she really enjoys the feel of your moans as you tongue her clit. I hold onto your hips and start sliding in and out in long, deep strokes. Longer, deeper, and faster as you start to moan more and more. Gretchen comes again and slips down so that she can kiss your face clean and fuck your mouth with her tongue as I fuck your cunt with my cock. Arianna and Kate take your hands and rub them against their clits. You have just enough wherewithal to slide a finger into each of them as your thumb rubs their clits. Gretchen holds your head between her hands as she continues to kiss you deeply, and I plunge deeply and consistently. I feel you come once upon my cock, and I change my tempo. I feel you come again as I reach around and touch your clit. Gretchen's fingers are pinching your nipples as I touch your clit, and then she slides my hand aside with one of hers, and I grab your hips with both of mine. I am now slamming into you as fast and hard as I possibly can. Your chorus of moans eggs me on, and we are all urging you to come.
"Oh yeah Kelly, come again girl!"
"Oh, does his cock feel good?" another asks.
You can't talk because Gretchen is kissing you hard and long as I plunge away at your depths. We are all sweating with the exertion of our fucking. The cool night air is chill against our skin as we continue to fuck. We are all one big snake pile of sex and love. One warm puppy pile of friends and lovers concentrating on only one thing: your pleasure, which is our pleasure as well.
You break your kiss with Gretchen and lean back in a howl of pleasure that pulls me into an orgasm as well. Our voices conjoin in the night air as we howl at the moon as one body. My cock pounding spurt after spurt within you as your cunt contracts and milks each following spurt. Finally, I am standing still with my cock deflating slowly within you. You kiss Gretchen slowly and lovingly, then Arianna and Kate in turn. As my cock falls out and a river of come slides down your leg, you turn to kiss me.
"Thank you for a wonderful Birthday!" | null | Part 2 | Authors/Kelly/www/SC6.txt |
92,528 | Andrea Darling | Taking My Breath Away | You would invite me over to your house for drinks after we'd spent a few weeks flirting online, and I would accept. I would fix myself up nicely for you, wanting to make a good first impression, so I'd put on one of my sexiest dresses, maybe my tight, black, one-shoulder mini-dress and black pumps. I probably wouldn't wear panties, because who wants visible panty lines when they are trying to impress?
When I got to your house, we'd share a few drinks, and eventually, you'd start to tell me about your kinkier side, and I'd become curious. You'd show me pictures of the women you'd played with before, telling me how much they loved it and how they kept coming back for more, and that would get me even more excited. In the end, I'd beg you to show me how you play with your girlfriends, and you would happily agree.
You would tell me to wait in the middle of the living room while you went to your bedroom to fetch a few things, and you'd come back with a skinny black necktie in your hands. You'd tell me to place my wrists behind my back, and I'd be nervous but excited as you used the tie to bind my hands tightly behind me. Then you would stand behind me and run those strong hands of yours over my shoulders, across my collarbone, and up around my throat. I'd begin to breathe faster as I got even more nervous, but I'd totally be into it, my pussy getting so wet just from anticipating how your hands would feel squeezing my flesh.
You would very slowly close your fingers together around my slender neck until I suddenly couldn't take in a breath, and you'd keep your fingers there, just barely cutting off my air. I would try to relax at first because I would know that this is all just an erotic game for both of us, but after maybe thirty or forty seconds, I would begin to panic in spite of myself. You would tighten your grip slightly just to make sure I couldn't wriggle free of your powerful fingers, and then you would pull my body back against you so that you could really feel my struggling.
After about a minute or so, I would really be freaking out, my eyes bulging wide and my face growing bright red. You would whisper things in my ear as you held me tight, telling me how sexy I was suffocating for you. Even though my head would be spinning with panic, the words would go straight to my excited pussy, making me even more aroused. You would keep squeezing as I lost my footing, my legs starting to kick wildly beneath me, one of my shoes falling off my feet, and my skimpy black dress would ride up over my thighs to expose my wet pussy to the air.
Just when I felt like I couldn't possibly take another second of this, you would loosen your grip, keeping a hold of my neck, but lightly, just enough to hold me up as I began to swallow down air in desperate gulps. As oxygen rushed back to my brain, I would collapse backward into your arms, and you would very gently lay me down on the carpet, stroking my cheek as its color slowly returned to normal. Then, just as I would open my mouth to tell you how incredible that felt, you would surprise me by covering my lips with your palm. I would look at you, confused, not understanding that, for you, the game wasn't over yet.
You would allow me two or three sharp breaths through my nose before reaching down and pinching my nostrils shut with your free hand, and suddenly I wouldn't be able to breathe again. Though my body would already be exhausted from struggling before while you choked me, I would still find the strength to squirm, albeit weakly, against the floor, so to make sure I couldn't get away, you would climb up over me and sit on my tummy, pinning me to the rug.
As the seconds turned into minutes, my bucking and kicking would begin to slow, and my eyes, which had been wide with terror, would begin to relax. All the while, you would be looming over me, gazing down into my eyes, not even blinking, you're so focused with concentration. My head would be swimming, my ears buzzing, and I wouldn't be able to think, to focus on anything at all except your face. The last thing I would be able to see before I succumbed to permanent blackness would be you lowering your lips to kiss my forehead. The last thing I would hear would be your heavy breathing in my ear. And then I would be gone. | null | null | Authors/Andrea_Darling/Taking My Breath Away.txt |
92,984 | Pan Penn | OH, BROTHER | You know what I always liked about my little brother? I don't either. Oh, he has one or two good qualities, but somehow he manages to taint them one way or another. For instance, he's really smart, but he can't seem to appreciate the line between being smart and being a smartass.
Here's an example: One day I got stuck on a trig problem and asked him if he could help me. He's one of those math whizzes, so he saw the solution right away and showed me how to do it. I was just about to say 'thanks' when he added, "Of course, if you had a logical bone in your body, you could have figured it out." I was immediately reminded of why I should never ask for his help. He gets way too much satisfaction out of slamming me. He's even a jerk to Mom and Dad sometimes, which is why he's grounded about six months out of the year.
He wasn't always that way. Up until about three years ago, when he began going through puberty and his voice changed, he was really a sweet kid. He was helpful, worked hard, totally dependable. I've always heard that testosterone does strange things to otherwise civilized males, but it must have awakened a 'nasty gene' in his brain.
Benny - formally Benjamin - is fifteen now. He prefers to say he's almost sixteen, but if he doesn't get his act together, sixteen may be an unattainable goal. In spite of the fact that he's been growing like a weed, he manages to keep himself from looking like a six-foot long stick by working out every afternoon. He's still slim, but his chest and arms are well developed, making his female classmates giggle and drool whenever he's within pheromone range. Makes me want to gag.
There's a little over a year's difference in our ages. I guess our folks decided to get the family thing done in one quick flurry because right after Benny was born, my dad got a vasectomy done. Or maybe he had some sort of prescient inkling of what he had just fathered and said, "Well, that's enough of that!"
I, of course, have always been the perfect child. If you believe that, I wonder if I could interest you in a good deal on the Golden Gate Bridge. I went through all the foot stomping, crying, petulance and demands to be left alone all girls go through between the ages of twelve and sixteen. I once heard my dad tell my mom that life would be so much simpler if kids could be buried at twelve and dug up at twenty. I'm almost seventeen now, and I'm over all that stuff. Mostly.
But recently, things changed between Benny and me. That's why I'm writing this narrative; to try to get my thoughts organized. So here's what happened:
Dad's younger brother died suddenly. I mean really suddenly at the age of thirty-eight. It couldn't have been too much of a surprise because I'd heard my dad say more than once that Greg - that was his brother's name - wouldn't live to see forty if he didn't find some way to get off the booze. Benny and I had never met him. He'd been invited to family events and holidays, but it was his choice to live a solitary life on the streets. I always thought he must be mentally ill, but Dad said he just didn't give a damn about anything. I think we were saying the same thing.
Anyhow, Mom and Dad were going to fly back to St. Louis for his funeral and spend a few days with Grandma. They could see that Benny and I weren't terribly excited about going with them, so they gave us the option of staying home with some very strict conditions attached. I know what you're thinking; no sane parents are going to turn their mortgaged house over to unsupervised fifteen and sixteen-year-old kids. Well, get a load of the conditions: 1) There would be absolutely no, count 'em zero, guests in the house during their absence. 2) Any of three neighbors were to call them if they had even a hint that anything wasn't normal, like strange cars in the driveway. 3) Any infractions would result in loss of driving privileges for me and two weeks grounding for Benny. I didn't say anything, but they should have threatened to burn the collection of dirty magazines hidden in his closet. That would have ensured his compliance.
Two days later, they left for St. Louis, and Benny and I left for school. That evening, I thought I'd play the good little homemaker and cook a nice dinner for us. I grilled some salmon steaks and made rice pilaf and a nice salad. Benny's response? "I think I'll just have some cereal."
Well, I lost it. "Look here, you little shit! If you think I'm going to put up with your asinine, infantile behavior for the next five days, you are sadly mistaken! From now on, I'd appreciate it if you would do your damnedest to stay completely out of my sight." I left everything on the table and stomped up to my room and slammed my door shut. I was so pissed I cried, and that made me even angrier.
I didn't leave my room for the rest of the evening. After I finished my homework, I just curled up on my bed with a good book and some peaceful music playing in the background. I guess I drifted off to sleep because I was awakened about ten by a knock on my door. When I opened it, Benny was standing there looking kind of sheepish.
"What part of 'Stay out of my sight' don't you understand?"
"Uh, Gretchen, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I don't know why I say things like that. Just habit, I guess."
"When I see you make some effort to change your habits, maybe I'll take your apology seriously." I shut the door in his face and went to bed.
The next morning, I was a little bit surprised to see that he had cleaned up the kitchen. The food had been put into storage containers, and the dishes had been washed and put away. I was appreciative, but I wasn't being bought off that easily. One little glimmer of remorse didn't mean the leopard had changed his spots.
I had a quick breakfast and headed for the mall to meet a couple of girlfriends. It was Saturday, so I didn't expect Lord Benjamin to stir his royal carcass from his bed before noon. I almost left a note to remind him that Dad wanted the lawn mowed and trimmed, but I changed my mind. Since encounters with my sibling usually got my blood to the boiling point, I decided that, for the next five days, I would make it a point to have no encounters with him, verbal or written. He could sink or swim on his own.
Imagine my surprise when I pulled into the driveway three hours later and saw him mowing the lawn. It was a hot day, so his nut-brown body was dressed in shorts and sneakers. He looked so good that I had to grudgingly admit that, if he weren't my butt of a brother, I'd probably have the hots for him.
He waved at me as I got out of my car, but I ignored him and went into the house. I sat at the kitchen table and scanned the newspaper want ads for a part-time job. Summer break would begin in two weeks, and I needed to increase my cash flow. I was hoping to find something a little more interesting than flipping burgers at McDonald's.
Benny came in the back door and sat down across the table from me. I knew he was staring at me, but I refused to meet his eyes.
"Truce, Gretchen?"
I finally looked up at him and asked, "Meaning?"
"Meaning I'm sorry for the way I've been acting, and I'll try to do better. Just don't freeze me out, OK?"
"Why would you even care? Did you have some recent epiphany illuminating the fact that you've been a total shit the last few years, or what?" I could be a major league bitch myself when I put my mind to it.
He looked hopelessly frustrated as he shook his head. "Look, Gretchen, I don't know why I do those things. It's like I can't stop myself. I've been reading this book on early adolescent behavior, and I've run across a lot that strikes home. One thing I read is that when guys are trying to impress a girl, they sometimes do stuff that has the exact opposite effect. I can't believe some of the crap that comes out of my mouth when I'm trying to get a girl to notice me."
"OK, let me get this straight. You're saying you go out of your way to piss me off because you like me?"
He shrugged, "Well, yeah. Something like that, I guess."
"Sorry, Bro. That doesn't compute."
I started to get up from the table, but he grabbed my arm. "Gretchen, please just sit down and talk to me. I know I'm not saying it right, but try to help me out here. Please!"
I was about to slap his hand, but I pulled up short when I saw that the kid actually had a tear running down his cheek. Slowly, I sat back down, and he took his hand away.
"OK, Benny. Truce for the time being. Try again to tell me why you make such an effort to give me grief."
He took a deep breath and sighed. "It's hard to explain. Take last night, for instance. When I saw that you had knocked yourself out to cook a nice dinner, what I really wanted to do was thank you and give you a big hug, but I'm afraid to do that, so what came out instead was this rude, stupid thing about the cereal. As soon as it was out of my mouth, I was kicking myself for being such an asshole."
Now, I was confused. "Why would you be afraid to hug me? We're brother and sister, for Pete's sake.""He looked at his hands clasped in his lap and shook his head. His answer was barely audible. "Because I'm not supposed to feel the way I feel about you."
"I don't understand, Benny. How do you feel about me?"
It took a while before he answered, and when he did, he couldn't look at me. The tears were back, and he could barely keep from crying. "I love you."
"Well, I love you too, Benny, even though you creep me out sometimes. Brothers and sisters are supposed to love each other. I figure sooner or later you're going to turn into a real person and it'll be a lot easier."
He scared the crap out of me when he suddenly stood up, knocking his chair over and slamming his hands down on the table. "You don't get it, Gretchen! I'm IN love with you!" He tore through the back door and took off running across the yard.
I just sat there with my mouth open and my brain in numbsville. In love with me? He couldn't mean that the way it came out, could he? Oh, lord, I think he did! There was nothing for it - I'd need Mom's advice on this one.
I called Grandma's number in St. Louis, but I just got the recording. They must have been at the funeral. I hung up instead of leaving a message, thinking I'd better give it some more thought before I brought in the big parental guns.
I know from my own personal experience that the emotions kids our age carry around are often way beyond our abilities to articulate them. Judging from what I'd just seen, Benny's emotions must have been in a state of chaos.
He'd been gone for about an hour. When he got back, he looked like he'd been running the entire time, sweaty and flushed. He walked through the house without looking at me and ran up the stairs to his room. I wasn't at all sure what I wanted to say, but I felt like I needed to say something. I was halfway up the stairs when he walked out of his room and went into the bathroom. I decided to wait in his room while he showered.
I was sitting on his bed when he came in with a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked at me for a few moments and said, "I need to get dressed."
"OK. Come and talk to me when you're ready. I'll be in my room."
A few minutes later, he knocked on my door and came in. Barely. He sat on the floor, leaning against the doorframe, and waited for me to say something.
"Benny, I'm not going to insult you by passing this off as simply something that's normal for your age. It's obviously not normal for you or you wouldn't feel as strongly as you do. I will say this though, and please bear with me while I wade through it, OK? We know that most male brains are hard-wired to be stimulated by female shapes. If there is any truth at all in what Freud believed, there's no possible way at our age that we can look at each other and not have some sexual thoughts. Are you with me so far?"
"Yeah, I've read the same books you have. And I'm not being a smartass; it's the truth."
"I believe you. I guess what I'm getting at is that what you feel toward me is bound to pass. I don't see how it can be any more permanent than having a crush on your teacher or even fantasizing about Mom. I think your body is so charged up on hormones that you should probably be on tranquilizers for the next five years or so. Look, I'm not angry about what you said; I'm flattered. You're a really good-looking guy, and I even find myself feeling a little jealous when I see you with other girls."
"I don't fantasize about Mom. I fantasize about you. And I don't see how it's temporary if I've felt like this for as long as I can remember."
That stopped me. "You have?"
"I have."
"OK. Well, it would be absurd to ask you to try not to feel what you feel. If it makes it easier for you, I've had sexual fantasies about you too, but I know they're never going to happen, so I don't obsess over them. I'll tell you what, though; I think we understand each other better now. Can't we try to be more respectful and pleasant to each other since we don't have to cover up our feelings anymore?"
"Like I said before, I'll try to do better. But it doesn't change how I feel about you."
He got up to leave and then stopped in the doorway. "Thanks, Gretchen. Could I hug you now?"
I smiled as I stood and held out my arms. He was across the room in a moment, squeezing me tightly and kissing my forehead. I had my arms around him, and my face was pressed against his chest when I felt him begin to cry. My heart broke, and I began to cry too. We stood like that for several minutes until we got control of ourselves, then he stepped back, looking at me, kissed my forehead again, and left the room.
The rest of that Saturday is a blur. I muddled through the day's activities on autopilot, trying to get a handle on what was going on. What do you say when you find out your little bro is in love with you and has been for most of his life? I didn't count that as an excuse for his bratty behavior, but it was certainly a reason. The more I thought about it, the more I began to see a pattern. When he was younger, it took the form of a crush; you know, like adoration from afar. Now that the big T hormone was running at peak levels, the crush was becoming something a lot more urgent. I was the object of his sexual fantasies.
That night as I was getting ready to put on my nightie and go to bed, I stopped and looked at myself in the mirror. What was he seeing? I stood there naked, analyzing my form and looks. I guess I'm a reasonably attractive girl. I have fairly short black hair, cut in kind of a shag. I don't think my face is beautiful, but I'd say I fell into the general category of pretty. I've been told I have beautiful blue eyes. I know I have a good body because I work hard to keep it that way. I'm not huge up above, but 34B breasts are certainly respectable, and I'm much too young to have saggy boobs. A slim waist and not too broad across my butt. My black bush is full, but I wouldn't consider myself excessively hairy. I have long legs, and my musculature is much better than average because of my gymnastics and ballet.
There's never been a shortage of guys asking me out. My rep is good; if a guy's hands get too busy, we don't have a next date. I don't count myself a prude, but I know how guys - and girls - brag about their conquests, and I'm not ready to go down that road yet. I'm sure it's a poor substitute for the real thing, but I've long since mastered masturbation techniques that will serve until the right time, place and guy all converge.
So, looking in the mirror, I wonder, 'Is this what Benny fantasizes about or does he have some kind of idealized picture in his brain when he thinks about me?' The nice thing about fantasies is that you can pretty them up all you want.
What do I imagine when I fantasize about Benny? I see a tall, slim, good-looking boy. I don't think of him as a man, but I imagine his penis as a man's penis. I don't think I've seen him naked since he was maybe ten, and I accidentally walked in on him when he was taking a bath. He threw a wet washcloth at me and called me a perv. All I can recall about his penis is that it seemed pretty normal. I remember hearing somewhere that he wasn't circumcised because Dad wouldn't allow it.
I crawled into bed and turned off the light, but I couldn't go to sleep. This thing with Benny had to be dealt with somehow. The more I thought about it, the more I didn't want to tell Mom or Dad about it. I think if I did that, Benny would never forgive me because the embarrassment would be devastating. No, this had to be worked out between the two of us, but I'll be damned if I knew where to start.
Then I had this thought that if we could spend more time together, it might at least get him to thinking about me in real terms instead of being an object of his imagination. I looked at my clock and saw it was only ten thirty; he'd still be up reading or surfing the net.
I crawled out of bed and walked down the hall to his room. I could see through the crack in the doorway that he was sitting at his computer. I knocked lightly. "Benny?"
"Yeah?" He clicked an icon and killed the screen. He must have been looking at something naughty.
"Um, would you like to go bike riding out to the lake tomorrow? We could take some sandwiches and have a kind of picnic."
He turned and looked at me. "Do you mean it?"
"Yeah. I've been thinking we should spend more time together since it seems we really don't know each other as well as we thought we did."
He smiled broadly and nodded his head, "I'd like that. Let's do it! What time do you want to leave?"
"Well, it's at least a two-hour ride out there, so why don't we leave about ten in the morning? Bring your swim trunks. The water should be warm enough by now."
"I'll be ready."
I turned and started back to my room. As I got to my door, Benny stuck his head out his door and said, "Gretchen, thanks."
Luck was with us, and it was a beautiful, warm day. Both of us were dressed in shorts, T-shirts, and sneakers. I made sure to wear my least revealing bra; no sense feeding his fantasies any more than necessary. The terrain around our part of the country is pretty flat, so the ride wasn't too strenuous. Even so, we were more than happy to finally get there. We opted for the far side of the lake where it was quieter and there wouldn't be many people around. I had the sandwiches and fruit in my saddlebag, and he carried the sodas and bottled water.
Years before, the county had created a little beach for swimming. They trucked in sand and built a little platform about fifty yards out into the water. It was never as popular as they hoped it would be, so they stopped maintaining it. Grass had grown up through the sand, and the platform looked like it wouldn't be around much longer, but it was still kind of a nice area.We parked our bikes against the trees and laid a blanket down close to the water.
"You want to swim or eat first?" I asked.
"Swim. You know you shouldn't swim on a full stomach."
"Benny, that old theory has long since been debunked, but I'd like a swim before lunch anyhow."
I grabbed my swimsuit and ran into the trees to change. Like the unrevealing bra, my swimsuit was an old relic that was about as sexy as a fireplug. Benny looked decidedly disappointed when he saw me emerge from the cover of the trees. He'd gotten into some baggy trunks that were barely being held up by his skinny little butt.
"Race you to the platform and back," he yelled as he started running toward the water. I was right behind him and we dove into the water at about the same time. We're both really good swimmers but his longer legs gave him a little more kick. He edged me out getting to the platform but being a gymnast and a dancer boosted my endurance and I caught up with him by the time we reached the shore. The water was still a little cool but we splashed around and swam little sprints for a good half hour before we decided to take a break for lunch. I grabbed my towel and went back into the trees to change.
Benny was sitting on the blanket in just his khaki shorts wolfing down a sandwich. I plopped down across from him and uncapped a bottle of water, sucking down half of it. I'd made two sandwiches each for us, two egg salad and two ham and cheese. He made short work of one of each and looked at mine like a starving waif.
I laughed and said, "When you leave home to go out into the world on your own, the food budget is going to be slashed by at least half." I handed him the other ham and cheese and he accepted it with a grin.
We chatted about school and friends and other things but neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. I was hoping we had sort of tacitly agreed to a temporary moratorium on that subject.
Benny stuffed our trash into a bag to drop into the dumpster on the way out of the park. As he shifted his position, leaning back on his elbows to warm in the sun, his shorts gaped open and rode up at the leg. I hoped the look on my face wasn't too obvious when I saw the end of his penis about an inch inside his shorts. I quickly looked away, feeling the blush on my cheeks. Fortunately, with the sun in his eyes, he didn't see any of this.
"OK, Bro. Are you ready to head back?"
"Not yet. Do you mind if we just lie in the sun for an hour? It's nice just being out here with you, Gretchen."
"Same for me. OK, one hour then we need to head back. We've got a long ride."
We lay back on the blanket and closed our eyes against the sun. The warm air scented with the smell of some blooming Russian olive trees growing down the lakeshore was pleasantly soporific and I dozed off. My eyes opened when I felt Benny take hold of my hand.
He looked over at me and asked, "Do you mind?"
I thought about it for a few seconds and, squeezing his hand, said, "Not at all. It's nice."
The ride back home was leisurely and pleasant. We got the bikes hung up in the garage and took turns in the shower. For the rest of the afternoon, we retired to our separate computers; I to work on a school project and Benny to do whatever he does. I figure it's probably best not to ask.
Later, when I went down to the kitchen to see what I might rustle up for dinner, I found it had already been done. My little bro had heated up the pilaf and salmon and made a fresh salad. "It probably won't be as good as when you made it last night, but I hate to see your hard work go to waste." His need for my approval was written all over his face.
I kissed him on the cheek and hugged him tight. "Thanks, Benny. I see you really are trying. Maybe we should have a little wine with dinner to celebrate. What do you think?"
He grinned and said, "Mom's gonna shit if she finds out. You sure you want to chance it?"
"If she does, I'll say it was for a very special occasion. I think we should have white wine with the salmon, don't you?"
"By all means. You get the booze and I'll get the glasses."
We used the dining room table. Benny poured for both of us and raised his glass for a toast. "Here's to our truce and a new-found relationship and to my beautiful sister, Gretchen."
"And to my handsome brother, Benjamin," I added. We sipped our wine and laughed.
It was a very pleasant dinner with lots of idle chatter about nothing in particular. I was thinking how nice it was to carry on a civilized conversation with my brother and not expect some sort of sleazy insult to be dropped on me at some point. We cleaned up after the meal and took the rest of the bottle of wine with us downstairs to the rec room to watch a movie on the TV.
We tossed a coin to decide whether it would be some action movie featuring murder and mayhem throughout or 'The Hours' with Meryl Streep. I won the toss so Meryl Streep it was. Neither of us were used to alcohol so we were already a little tipsy after the first glass. By the time we finished the bottle, I think we could have been legitimately classified as inebriated.
The day caught up with me; four hours on the bikes, the swimming and half a bottle of wine finally took their toll and I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. My head was lolling on Benny's shoulder and my eyes were half shut when he grabbed one of the throw pillows and put it in his lap and said, "Here, this will be more comfortable."
"Thanks," I said. "I'll try to last through the movie, then it's beddy-bye for me." I curled up on my side with my head in his lap and was sound asleep within two minutes.
Some time later, I woke up to a nice sensation in my breast. As I gradually ascended into consciousness, several things became apparent. The room was dark and the television was off, Benny had his hand on my breast rubbing his thumb over my nipple and his other hand was caressing my face. I lay there wondering how to get out of this without sabotaging all the progress we'd made over the last twenty-four hours. I guessed that if he knew I was waking up, he'd stop. I was right.
I stretched and yawned, sitting up. "Sorry I fell asleep, Benny. I bet your leg must be asleep by now. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."
"Yeah, goodnight, Gretchen."
When I got to my room, I closed the door and took a deep breath. 'Damn, that was close. Either he's hell-bent on having some sort of sexual encounter with me or he just flat can't help himself.' What was I going to do? I had to admit to myself that the feeling of his hand on my breast was nice, even exciting I guess noting that the crotch of my panties was a little damp. It seemed like the closer we got emotionally, the closer he wanted to be physically. I was in a catch-22.
The solution, or at least 'A' solution didn't strike me like a bolt out of the blue. I'd been mentally dancing around it all along and it finally forced its way to the front of my brain. I went to my dresser and reached to the very back of the bottom drawer. I found a plastic baggy containing three small packets and removed one of them.
When I turned fourteen, Mom came into my room and sat on my bed looking at me with one of those 'It's time for one of our little talks' expressions on her face. "There's something we need to talk about, Gretchen." She handed me the little plastic baggy. I guess my eyes popped open like saucers when it finally occurred to me what I was holding.
"Mom, these are condoms!"
"Yes, sweetheart. Those are condoms.
"Well, what am I supposed to do with them?"
"I want you to carry one with you every time you're out on a date."
"Are you saying you want me to have sex?" I couldn't believe what was coming out of my own mother's mouth.
"No, Gretchen, I don't want you to have sex, at least not this soon in your life. But listen to me; you can never fully anticipate what may happen when you're out having a good time. I think your dad and I have raised you well and we trust you to make good decisions, but all of us are subject to moments of weakness from time to time. At your age, your body is driving you with an immutable force to mate and have children. The reason I'm asking you to carry one of these with you is so that, if you find yourself in one of those moments, at least you won't find yourself in an unwanted pregnancy for lack of protection. Will you do this for me, and for yourself?"
I saw the wisdom in her thinking. "OK, Mom. Better safe than sorry, right?"
In fact, I never carried a condom in my purse because I could never remember. Now, Benny and I were both in one of those situations that I could never in my life have anticipated. Thanks, Mom for being smarter than the average mom.
I heard my brother enter the bathroom between our rooms. I waited until he was done brushing his teeth. When I heard his door close, I took my turn. Back in my room, I dabbed a tiny bit of cologne on my neck and put on my sheerest baby-doll nightie. I turned off all the lights except for a small accent lamp on my dresser. I looked at myself in the mirror and approved of what I saw. Having made up my mind to go through with it, I was already getting wet with anticipation.
'OK, girl,' I said to myself, 'Tonight you and your brother take one giant step into adulthood. Don't screw it up!'
I walked down the hall to his room and tapped lightly on his door. "Benny, could you come to my room for a moment?" I didn't wait for an answer but ran back to my room on my tiptoes and closed the door. I sat on my bed and waited. It didn't take long. He knocked on my door and opened it. He was standing there in his ridiculous over-sized boxers with smiley faces all over them.
"What?"What are you wearing?" he asked, raising his eyebrows when he saw what I was wearing.
"Come sit down," I patted the bed beside me.
He edged warily toward my bed, like he expected me to hit him with something. I knew in the darkened room he couldn't see my breasts clearly, but probably well enough that my nipples were visible through the sheer material. As he sat beside me, there was already a stirring in his underwear that he tried, without a lot of success, to hide.
Figuring the direct approach was the best approach, I took his hand and turned to face him. "Benny, if we keep avoiding this sex thing, it's just going to wind up being a major frustration for both of us. I knew you were feeling me up when we were down in the rec room. No, don't apologize! I was actually enjoying it. I think we should just go ahead and do it. What do you think?"
He was struck dumb. With his mouth hanging open, he nodded his head twice. His palms were already sweating, and I could see the artery in his neck pulsing in the triple digits.
"You need to know that I've never done this before. Have you?"
He shook his head, still mute.
"So I guess it starts with us kissing and touching each other. Why don't you kiss me?"
Leaning toward me with his eyes wide open, his lips barely made contact with mine. "Benny, close your eyes!" I put my hand behind his neck and pulled him harder against my mouth and licked his lips with my tongue. I could taste toothpaste. I held him there for a few seconds and then let go.
As he sat back and looked at me, he got this huge smile on his face and said, "That was really nice!"
"It was. Look, I don't have a script to go by here, Benny. We need to just start doing things that make each other feel good, but we need to go slow, OK?"
"OK. Can I touch your, uh, body?"
"I think I'd like that."
He knelt on the floor in front of me, and his hands reached out and cupped my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. I looked down and saw that his erect penis had announced itself through the fly of his boxers. If I had heard correctly that six inches was the norm, my little brother was already well above average. He let his hands drift down to my shoulders, then slide down my arms, taking my hands and lifting them to his lips. With one hand, he tentatively reached out and touched my nightie where it draped over my breast. He looked up at my eyes, his expression asking my permission. I smiled and nodded my head. Now both hands were cupping my breasts, and his thumbs rubbed my nipples and aureoles. They were growing hard and tender. "Softly," I whispered.
The nightie had already served its purpose, so very slowly, I lifted it over my head and dramatically tossed it aside, giving him full access to my boobs. He pulled me toward him, attaching his mouth to one breast and then the other, nuzzling, licking, and sucking like a hungry baby. The sensation was exquisite, and I knew the bottoms of my nightie were getting soaked. I combed my hands through his soft brown hair and kissed the top of his head, encouraging him with little moans of pleasure.
I slid my hands under his arms and lifted. "Stand up." His mouth reluctantly left my breast as he got to his feet. His penis was standing straight out, not two inches from my face. I took the front of the waistband of his boxers and pulled it out and over his erection. The foreskin was stretched back and only covered a portion of his glans. I pushed his boxers to the floor, and he stepped out of them. I reached out one hand and gently grasped his penis at the base and cupped his testicles with the other. I was barely able to encircle him with my hand. I saw his pubic hair was dark brown and curly, not as dense as mine. There was a drop of clear liquid about to drip off the end of his cock, so I instinctively leaned forward and licked it off. The taste was slightly salty.
Benny was so sexually excited he was trembling. As I began to stroke his shaft, a low, guttural groan escaped his throat, and he grasped my shoulders as streams of semen erupted and covered my face, my neck, and my breasts. He sank to his knees and began to apologize for losing control, but I put my finger on his lips and shook my head, "Hush, Benny! I wouldn't expect you to have super-human control on your first time. We have all night." I smiled, and he smiled back, then ran to the bathroom and brought back a towel to wipe me off.
"Are you ready to continue, Little Brother?"
"Yes, yes, what should I do?"
"Your mouth felt so good on my boobs, I was wondering how it would feel down there," I whispered, pointing to my soaking wet panties. As I stood to remove them, he reached out and jerked them down to my feet. He just knelt there and stared.
"Oh, Gretchen, I knew it would be beautiful." He leaned forward, burying his nose in my bush, and began licking my labia. Now I was trembling. I sat on the edge of the bed and lay back, propping myself on my elbows and spreading my legs to give him free access. He wasted no time taking advantage of it. Sliding his hands under my butt, he pulled me forward to meet his mouth. The sensation of his tongue moving all over my pussy was driving me wild. Proper anatomical terms just don't seem right, do they?
"Here," I said, pointing to my erect clitoris, "Work on this for a while."
He attacked it with a vengeance, sucking on it and licking it until he pushed me into the first orgasm I ever had that wasn't self-induced. It was so much more intense than my previous ones that it was like a whole new experience. I held his face against me and thrust my hips up repeatedly until the sensations eased.
"Oh my, Benny. That was outstanding! Come up here and lay beside me."
As he crawled up onto the bed, I saw that his penis was already recovered and in need of tending to. We lay facing each other and just stroked all over each other's bodies while we kissed. I took his face in my hands and asked, "Are you ready to do the big one?"
His smile made words unnecessary.
I reached over him to the nightstand and picked up the condom.
"Where'd you get that?" he asked incredulously.
"Just never you mind." I tore the packet open and rolled the condom down the shaft of his beautiful cock. Now that I had made up my mind to do this thing, I couldn't wait to feel him inside me.
"Little Bro, I don't think my hymen is still intact, but we still need to go really slow because of your size." I lay back and spread my legs wide. He knelt between them and leaned toward me, pressing the end of his cock against my wet labia. He moved it around, trying to find the right place, but he wasn't having any success. Obviously, he was telling the truth about this being his first time.
I reached down and took matters into my own hands. "I'll tell you when to push." I moved the end up and down my slit, getting it well lubricated, and then aimed it at my vagina. "OK, Benny, push slowly." I felt the head of his cock squeezing into the opening. It was going to be tight. "Keep moving in and out and go deeper a little bit at a time." He followed my directions perfectly, finally penetrating as far as I could tolerate. I could see he still had a couple of inches left over, and that worried me a little bit. If he got carried away in his excitement, it could hurt.
"I've got a better idea. Lay on your back."
He rolled over, keeping his cock inside me. I rose up on my knees until he almost slipped out and eased back down, taking what I could. Setting a slow, easy pace gave us a chance to thoroughly savor the delights we were offering to each other. Benny massaged and stroked my breasts, focusing on my nipples. From time to time, he would begin thrusting up with his hips to meet me as I slid down his cock, and I had to remind him to let me control the penetration.
"Sorry. I keep forgetting because it feels so awesome I just want more and more. Maybe you could stop moving for a minute because I'm close to shooting again."
I stopped and lay on his chest with his arms around me, rubbing up and down my back and my butt. I couldn't remember ever feeling such complete contentment. I squeezed his cock with my vaginal muscles, causing him to let out a surprised "Oh! Damn, that felt good. Could you do it some more?" I set up a rhythm of squeezing him every few seconds. He tilted his head back and smiled. "I didn't think it was possible to feel this good, beautiful Sister."
Opening his eyes and fixing me with an expression of curiosity, he asked, "How come you decided we should do this?"
"For a couple of reasons. First, because we both wanted it so badly, and second, I thought it was time we gave up our virginity and that it should be done with someone we trust completely."
"I take back everything bad I ever said about you, Gretchen. You have got to be the greatest sister ever."
"That might be a stretch, Little Bro, but thanks anyhow. Can we dispense with the mutual admiration now because I feel another orgasm coming on. Are you ready to finish?"
"I'd like it to last forever, but I'm already right on the edge."
I pushed myself up and began riding his cock faster and faster. We were both grunting and groaning as the moment neared. There was no way I could stop him from thrusting into me, and then I didn't want to. My vagina must have gradually stretched during our lovemaking, and now I could take it all.
We peaked at the same moment, each of us shouting the other's name as we strained against each other, finally collapsing in a sweaty heap, panting for breath. Benny's cock slowly softened and eventually slid out of me. The tip of the condom was bulging with his semen. I pulled it off and found the towel to wipe us both down.
"We need a shower, Bro. I'll wash your back if you'll wash mine."
"Deal!""As we were soaping each other up, he said, "I don't think I'll ever be able to get enough of you."
I fixed my eyes on his. "You know what? I wouldn't trade tonight for anything in the world, but it has to be a one-time thing for us. You know we can't keep doing it. Mom and Dad are not stupid people, and they'll eventually figure out what's going on."
He could look so pathetic when he was disappointed. "Yeah, I know, but god, I hate the thought of not ever making love with you again. Maybe we could do it every once in a while, like when Mom and Dad aren't home?"
"We were lovers for an hour, Benny. I think we should treasure that memory and go back to being just brother and sister. The more we do it, the harder it's going to be to stop."
I could see by his eyes that his brain was looking for ways around the issue. "Dad and Mom won't be home until Wednesday. Could we do it until then?"
Damn, he was making this difficult. But then, what should I have expected now that I'd opened Pandora's box; make that Gretchen's box. I hugged him under the shower of warm water and immediately knew I shouldn't have because his cock instantly sprang to life.
My common sense was in a pitched battle with my wants. "I'll make a deal with you, Bro. We can be lovers until Wednesday morning, and then it's done. After that, I don't want to ever hear it mentioned again. Will you agree to that?"
"I'll agree to that."
"In the meantime, don't even think about having intercourse without a condom."
"Got it!"
"OK, let's get to bed. We have school tomorrow."
"Wait!" He looked down at his impressive erection. "What do I do with this?" He bobbed his eyebrows up and down lasciviously.
"You've got two perfectly good hands. Fix it!"
The next morning as we were getting ourselves ready for school, I saw a disturbing pattern of behavior starting to emerge. Every time Benny got near me, he would pat my butt or cup my breast or rub an erection up against me. The first few times I ignored it, but finally, I felt it necessary to make an important point.
The next time he put his hand on my butt, I reached around and took hold of his wrist. "You're getting into a very risky habit, brother of mine. These little liberties you apparently feel you have a right to need to cool down. There's no harm right now, but the first time Mom or Dad get even a hint of that kind of behavior, there are going to be some very tough questions to be answered. As it is, they're going to notice that we're getting along much better than we used to. They'll appreciate it, but they'll also wonder why. I think we need to limit our outward signs of affection to pats on the shoulder, kisses on the cheek, and our hugs need to be the brother and sister sort with no groping. What do you think?"
He smiled, but in contrition. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, but it's just so hard for me not to touch you."
"I know it's hard, Benny, but we're doing something that social convention, not to mention the law, is dead set against. If we're physically mature enough to have sex, we should be emotionally mature enough to do it responsibly. Let's not ruin everything by risking a lot of grief for Mom and Dad, OK?"
"OK." He kissed me on the cheek and left for school.
We used the other two condoms the next two nights. Mom and Dad were back when we got home from school on Wednesday. At dinner, we talked about the funeral and about how Grandma had taken Greg's death. Seemed like everyone there just sort of accepted it as an inevitability that had come to pass. Most of the family had expended their grief long before the fact of his death.
Benny and I got high praise for keeping the house in order and not doing anything that required police intervention. I think we were all looking forward to settling back into our daily routines. Except Benny.
I have to say he kept up his part of the bargain. He didn't touch me in any suggestive ways or even hover over me when we were alone together. We carried on with our daily activities as usual.
Probably two weeks later, after school let out for summer break, I was helping Mom in the kitchen with dinner. The question was dropped so casually, it caught me completely off guard. "What happened between you and Benny, Gretchen?"
Not being at all prepared, I think the color must have drained out of my face. "Uh, what do you mean, Mom?"
"My dear child, it's as plain as day to me, if not your father, that your brother is completely smitten with you. The adoration in his eyes when he looks at you may as well be accompanied by a brass fanfare, it's so obvious. Your behavior toward each other bears no resemblance to what it was before the trip to St. Louis. Something big happened while your father and I were away. Are you going to tell me about it, or do I have to guess? Gretchen, I hope you know by now that you can tell me anything. Anything at all."
I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Mom has the most amazing talent for seeing through deception. I stood there looking down at the floor, trying to hold back the tears. Mom hugged me to her breast and stroked my hair. "Did you and Benny have sex?"
I nodded my head.
"Were you protected?"
I nodded again.
Mom emitted a big sigh of relief. "Is it still happening?"
"No. We agreed we couldn't do it anymore. It was my fault, Mom. Please don't blame Benny."
"Sweetheart, I don't blame either or you. You're not going to hear any lectures from me about the evils of incest. These things happen between young, sexually volatile people, and I, for one, don't see it as sinful or depraved. I'm relieved that the two of you have agreed not to do it anymore because if it were discovered by others, it could cause you no end of grief. It clearly brought you and Benny much closer to each other."
I put my arms around her and hugged her tight. "Thanks, Mom. I guess I should have known that you of all people would understand. Are you, um, going to tell Daddy?"
She held me at arm's length and looked at me with a surprised expression. "Of course I'm going to tell him, Honey. Your father and I would never keep anything that important from each other, but there's nothing to be afraid of. If it will make you feel any better, I'll tell you right here and now that your father and I both had similar experiences when we were growing up, and neither of us has ever regretted it. Look, there are good biological reasons why it shouldn't be common practice. To my mind, that doesn't make it inherently evil."
I smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "Are you going to talk to Benny about this?"
"I will if you want me to, but I think he'd take it better coming from you."
I saw Benny at his computer when I walked past his room later that evening and knocked lightly. "Benny?"
"Yeah? Oh, come in!"
"I need to talk to you about some things, but not here. How about we drive out to the lake tomorrow and have another picnic?"
"Great! Uh, just the two of us?"
"Yeah. Um, Benny, I've got some more condoms."
Well, that's my story. What would you have done? | null | null | Authors/Pan_Penn/OH, BROTHER.txt |
93,510 | Windy City Attorney | Fantasies Inspired By Kelly | You awaken in darkness, lying on your back. All you are aware of is a musty, earthy smell. You don't remember how you got here. You try to raise yourself up and are surprised to hit your head. Something solid is over you. You try to raise your lower body, but hit the same barrier. In frustration, you thrust your palm upward, and are surprised when the barrier breaks. Dirt spills down on top of you. Although the air is very dusty, you find that you are not having any trouble breathing. And even though it is totally dark, you find that your eyes can see clearly. You are surrounded by a soft, cool fabric - silk or satin.
Above you, where you pushed, you can make out jagged edges of wood. You push upward on a different part of the barrier, feeling it yield before you. Your hands and wrists are getting cut up, but you don't care. You finally break a hole in the barrier big enough for you to crawl out, even though you are now crawling up through soil. Lifting yourself up, almost as though you were swimming, you plow through the earth until your hand finally breaks into the open air. Grabbing to the side, you pull yourself out of the ground and into the cold, moonlit night.
You blink a few times as you slowly recognize where you are - the town cemetery. You try to remember how you got here. You remember walking back from a piano lesson. You remember being grabbed, thrown against a wall, sharp pain, weakness, then nothing. You look at the hole you crawled out of, noticing, for the first time, the somber granite monument at its top bearing your name. "Beloved Daughter, Devoted Friend." You shake your head in confusion, trying to sort everything out. You look down at your wrists. Before your eyes, the cuts and scrapes close, the skin heals over. Within seconds, you're good as new. You're dazed, bewildered, and now that you think about it, a little hungry.
You hear a noise nearby. On somewhat shaky legs, you walk towards it. Beside a nearby gravestone are two young men, smoking. They see you and look at you with lecherous eyes. Though you're offended, they smell positively... delicious.
They greet you in a foreign tongue. Spanish? you think. You stutter that you don't answer. With devilish grins, the taller one approaches you. Though his words mean nothing to you, his meaning is clear. As he approaches you, you instinctively back against a nearby gravesite. He puts his arms on either side of you, trapping you against the headstone. He's continuing to make propositions to you.
Without thinking, you suddenly lunge your head towards the side of his neck. You feel yourself bite down, and your teeth break skin. He screams, but you continue to hold on, feeling the hot blood splash into your throat. But, surprisingly, it seems like it's draining into your throat, not just spurting from an open wound. It tastes amazing - better than anything. His screams start to go quiet as you feel him going slack against you. Finally, the fluid stops flowing, and you casually push his lifeless form aside. You lick your lips, and are surprised to feel that your incisors are long and sharp.
You turn to see the young man's companion running away. You give chase and are on him in seconds, amazingly fast. He screams and pleads as you turn him around and sink your fangs into his throat. Like his friend, he screams at first, but slowly goes quiet as his life drains into you.
The hunger has ebbed now. You feel amazingly strong and free. You slowly understand what has happened, what a gift you received. And, as you do, you think of me. Looking back at your grave, you realize how sad I must be. Losing you so soon after losing your mother. Blows no father was meant to absorb.
You start to head towards home, excited at the prospect of telling me that there was no longer any reason to be sad. Within minutes, your feet barely touching the ground, you arrive at the house. Looking in the window, you see me sitting on my bed. In my hands, is a picture of the three of us - your mother, you, and me. You're six years old, and we're at Disney World. You loved that trip. We were all so happy. Even ten years later, it was one of your favorite memories.
You see that I'm crying. On the nightstand, a bottle of scotch stands half-empty. You remembered that bottle. It was a special one, that was going to be saved for a special occasion. Now, it's just being used as a balm for an unquenchable pain.
You watch me through the window for a few moments, as I fall asleep, the picture falling from my hand and tumbling silently to the floor. You walk around to the back door, and, digging the spare key out from its hiding place, you open the door and walk in. As you stride through the door, you casually think about how the part of the myth about needing an invitation was apparently just a myth.
You head towards my bedroom. Approaching the bed, you look me over. You reach out and touch me on the chest, just to convince yourself that this is not a dream. Your face hovers over mine until, somehow sensing the presence, I wake up. My eyes widen in shock as I see you there. You smile back and say, "Hi Daddy."
I hear myself say that this must be a dream. You smile again and give me a soft kiss on the cheek, telling me that it's no dream. Stunned, I tentatively embrace you. You sigh in contentment. I kiss you on the cheek, like a father should.You softly kiss me on the lips. Then again. And again, this time sliding your tongue into my mouth. My eyes widen in shock, but my tongue instinctively pushes back against you. You're surprised by your own actions - you had never even really kissed a boy before, let alone French-kissed. But somehow, it all seems to come easily to you.
I push away from you, horrified at what we've done. Sweetly, coquettishly, you ask me what's wrong. I tell you that what we just did was wrong, very wrong indeed, even in a dream. You smile coyly, and slide a hand down to my crotch, feeling the hard shaft there. You tell me that clearly, not all of me thinks it's wrong. Giving my cock a quick squeeze, you stand up and pull your dark dress up and over your shoulders, tossing it to the side. You're now completely naked. I stutter in protest, but I seem powerless to move.
You smile again and tell me that this is the night that all of my dreams come true. I'm paralyzed in shock, which gives you time to unbuckle my pants and pull them down, exposing my hard cock. Weakly, I protest that we shouldn't do this. You sense that you're in control now, and you tell me that we should do this - it's what we both want.
I tell you no, it's not, but you ignore me as you slide the head of my cock into your mouth. I gasp in pleasure as your tongue lashes the underside of my shaft, coaxing more of me into your mouth and throat. You're surprised at how easy this is - you had heard about this intimate act, even seen pictures, but never really done it. But something in you seems to know exactly what to do, how to tease me, how to drive me wild. My protests are growing weaker, and soon I'm begging you to continue. You smile as I succumb, sucking me deeper into your throat. Your fingers start teasing my balls as my pubic hair tickles your nostrils.
Feeling a warm, moist sensation in your pussy, you swing yourself around so that it's directly over my mouth. You lower it down without waiting for me to ask for it or protest. You sigh as my tongue starts working you over. You return your mouth to my cock, sucking and licking harder and faster as my tongue presses up into your cunt and lashes your clit. Sensing that I'm about to cum, you let your lower teeth lightly graze the underside of my shaft.
That does it - I start shooting into your throat. The salty liquid tastes good to you, but oddly unsatisfying. But the satisfaction is soon to come. My teeth close on your clit and start sucking, which sends you over to orgasm. You cry as your pleasure peaks and ebbs. You pull yourself off my mouth and snuggle up next to me. You begin removing my shirt, and I cooperate without protest.
Cuddling up against each other, unashamedly naked, we relax. Your hand reaches down and idly plays with my cock. You seem to know exactly where to touch it to revive it, and you're soon rewarded with a hard shaft in your hand. You get up and straddle me. My eyes betray my concern as you position your pussy over my shaft.
With a slight smile, you tell me that it's all going to be OK, and soon we can be together forever. I look at you in confusion, which you ignore as you guide me into your pussy. You are amazed by how wonderful it feels to have me inside you. I moan in pleasure as your tight walls squeeze my cock, reveling in this forbidden act of incest.
You start sliding yourself up and down, feeling me rub against your clitty. Soon, I am no longer a passive participant. Thrusting my hips up to meet yours, I force myself up all the way inside you. Sitting up, I pull you in for a kiss as we push against each other. This time, there is no shame in our passion, no holding back. You knew a part of me wanted this for a long time, and part of you wanted it too.
We're getting noisier as we grind against each other, our pleasure building. Through the noise and the other sensations you hear my heart beating, sense the life-giving fluid in my veins. You feel yourself getting hungry again, and lick your lips as our fucking gets harder and faster. The sensation is too much for me again, and I roar as I cum inside you again, shooting my sticky load deep into you. With an unholy cry, you plunge your fangs into my neck, feeling my blood fill you. I emit a strangled gasp of horror as I feel you draining me. You sense that I am weakening, near death. Withdrawing your fangs from my neck, you use a nail to trace a cut on your nipple.
Grabbing my nearly lifeless body by the head, you force my mouth onto your nipple. Weakly, I begin sucking. The fluid burns my tongue, but I cannot stop sucking. You feel a wave of pleasure building from your breast and coursing through your body. You scream in orgasm as I continue to suckle you, tasting your blood, feeling it burn my body. My mouth slides off your nipple as I collapse. You fall to bed beside me and snuggle up against me. Waiting for me to awaken to life everlasting...
Chapter 2 - Encounter on an Elevator
====================================
It's a crowded elevator, in one of those interminably tall city buildings, and you, of course, work very near the top floor. You're being squished between crowds of people. A wonderful start to the day, you think.
Suddenly, you feel it. There, again! Definitely more than just accidental contact. A pair of hands is stroking your ass through your skirt. You'd normally be offended, but the contact feels so good, strong, yet tender. This is not aggressive groping. These hands are exploring the contours of your butt as though it were a work of art. Stifling a low moan, you push ever so slightly back into the hands, and are rewarded with more vigorous stroking. Because of the crowd in the elevator, you can't turn your head to see who it is that is feeling you up.
The hands are becoming bolder now, lifting your skirt up and feeling your bare flesh. You sigh softly, hoping no one notices. No one does - at this time, in this situation, everyone is looking straight ahead, wrapped up in their own thoughts. The fingers trace around the lacy edges of your panties. You feel hot, sweet-smelling breath on the back of your neck and in your hair. It feels incredible, and you feel your panties getting soaked as your pussy grows wetter and wetter.
The elevator continues to ascend. The hands now push down your panties slowly, sliding them over the smooth curves of your butt. You're amazed that no one seems to notice - all you can focus on is the delicious sensation of being felt up, and the growing wetness between your legs. One of the hands now slides up beneath your skirt and begins stroking your pussy from behind. You try to stifle a gasp, ending up with a slight hiccup. You're finding it harder and harder to concentrate.
But you know that this is hardly a fair situation, Reaching your hand back, you feel for the hard lump you know is there. You hear a low grunt as your hand finds the hard shaft in the dress slacks. Somehow, you manage to squeeze and stroke it without disturbing the other passengers.
The elevator dings and the doors open. Some people get out, and some get on. As the car unloads, you feel the hands between your legs gently pull you back towards the corner of the elevator. You're amazed that no one can see. However, you soon realize in this position, your coat and bag are helping to shield your activities from obvious detection. The hands lift up your long skirt from behind and continue their assault on your pussy. The fingers are also returning to your ass. In this position, in the corner of the elevator, no one but you knows what is going on. You gently ease the zipper down on the pants behind you and pull the hard flesh out, stroking all around the knob with your thumb. You grin as the finger pushing into your pussy increases its tempo.
The elevator stops again, and more people get out and in as the hands continue working on you and you continue working on the cock behind you. Your pussy feels like it's on fire, and your body aches with need. You can't stand it anymore, you need to feel something more than this maddening, teasing stroking. Releasing the cock behind you, you reach into your purse and pull out the tube that you always keep in there just in case your plans have you staying somewhere other than home. You press the tube into the hand behind you. A long, maddening delay, and suddenly you feel the slickened head of a cock pressing against your asshole. You push back, and feel the hard shaft, slick with the lubricant, slide into your tight butt. Good thing you decided to wear heels today, you think. The extra height makes it easier to work the hard cock up inside you.
Soon, it's sunk balls deep into your ass. It starts moving against you, only very slight movements, but enough to do the job. You push back against the invading shaft, slowly, subtly, careful not to alert the others in the elevator. As the elevator ascends, more and more people get out, and fewer get in. Unconsciously, you push faster against the cock in your ass. It's down to just three in the elevator - you, the mystery cock in your ass, and one other man - not too old, not too young. You recognize him - he works on the same floor of your building.
The elevator rises up towards the top floor. You can see the other man looking at you, now obviously in the throes of ecstasy as you're bouncing on the dick up your butt. The other man's cock is obviously hard in his pants.
He moves towards the control panel of the elevator and pulls the stop button. The car lurches to a halt, and as the other man turns around, you see that he has unzipped his pants and released his own cock. He moves towards you and you suck him into your mouth without a second's hesitation.You're being pounded from both ends as the elevator alarm sounds around you.
It's all too much, and you feel your orgasm rip through you like a tidal wave. Your screams are muffled by the cock in your mouth. Dimly, you're aware of the sensation of hot jizz shooting up your butt. Then, more vividly, you're aware of the salty flavor in your mouth. You almost let a little dribble out of your mouth, but catch it on your finger and push it back in.
The security intercom crackles, and a voice asks if you're okay. Slowly coming back to reality, you press the button and answer that everything is fine. The voice on the other end tells you that it may be a few hours before someone comes to get you out of the elevator. You ask why it's going to take so long, and the voice on the other end tells you that they want to see the rest of the show. You spy the security camera in the other corner of the elevator. Smiling in understanding, you wave and tell them that it's okay. Turning around, you see two cocks being fisted back to hardness. You lick your lips and unbutton your blouse...
Chapter 3 - Leya's Cheerleader Tryout
=====================================
You're sitting in the coach's office, nervous. You've already been through two rounds of tryouts - grueling challenges that tested your endurance. You were then told that you were one of the finalists for one of the coveted spots on the cheerleading squad. The last stage was an interview with the football coach.
You were nervous about this - the coach was a legend in the school and in the community. During the 25 years that he's been running the program, he's never failed to take the team to at least the quarterfinals, and has won the state championship an astonishing nine times, including each of the last two years. If your school has a god, it's him. You glance around the room, looking at the awards behind the desk, the freakishly neat desk (not a paper on it!), the door behind you leading to the boys' locker room, anything and everything to keep you from thinking of how nervous you are.
He walks in through the other door. This is the first time you've seen him this close. Though he's showing some touches of gray in his hair, he still cuts a very handsome figure, and very obviously stays in shape. He smiles at you, and you feel a little tingle inside as you nervously smile back.
Following him through the door, much to your surprise, is Erin, the head cheerleader! She was at the earlier tryouts, of course, but for some reason, you didn't think she'd be at this one. As the head cheerleader, Erin was, of course, one of the most popular girls at school, the senior girl that every freshman wanted to be like. Indeed, Erin was kind of like school royalty - her mom joined the cheerleader squad during the coach's first year, eventually becoming head cheerleader in her senior year, and two of her daughters had followed suit.
Erin's own little sister, currently a junior, was the next one set to be head cheerleader. Tall, brunette, and stunning, she was the fantasy object of every straight male in the school. She smiles at you as she closes and locks the door behind her.
"Hello Leya," the coach greets you, "Erin was just showing me the video of your audition. I must say, I was very impressed." "Thank you, sir," you reply, as you try to figure out why the coach would be watching your audition tapes.
"You have a gymnastics background, right?" the coach asks as he sits at the edge of the desk facing you, "and some ballet?" "That's right," you answer. Erin walks behind your chair and stands there.
"It's clear to me," says the coach, "that you've got the performance skills that we look for in our cheerleaders. The reason that we have this interview is to determine whether you have the attitude to be a cheerleader for this school." "What do you mean by attitude?" you ask.
"Well," says the coach, "let me tell you a story. When I came here many years ago, the football program here was an absolute mess. Players didn't want to play, and school spirit was in the toilet. I changed that, and built this school into a football power. Do you want to know how I did it?" "Yes," you reply.
"I realized that to be great, those boys on the field needed a strong support system behind them. And that the key to that was the cheerleading squad. Do you know what the cheerleaders are for?"
You think for a moment, and answer "to cheer the team on and build school spirit?"
"Close," the coach replies with a kind smile, "but not quite. The cheerleaders at this school know that it is their job to support the team. To give those boys something to look forward to. To make them feel good. When I came here, Erin's mother, who was only a freshman then, joined the squad. With her help, we developed a plan to remake the squad from a bunch of spoiled privileged girls into a team dedicated to the good of the team. Since then, the cheerleaders have been our secret weapon. By doing what they do for the boys and for the coaching staff, on and off the field, they make the team successful. The question is, are you willing to do what it takes?"
As he's speaking, the coach subtly flexes his hip forward. It's a small motion, lasting only for a second, but it draws your eyes to the stiffness in his pants. The coach has a hard-on! you think with an internal giggle. Unconsciously, you tongue swats across your lip. You look back up quickly, hoping that he didn't see you.
Realizing he asked you a question, you answer "Yes sir!"
"Atta girl!" he says with a smile. "Now, part of the cheerleader's job is to sense what the team or the coaching staff needs, and to give it to them. Do you understand what I mean?"
Your eyes are drawn again to the coach's crotch. You swear you see it pulse. You look back up at him. He gives a smile and a little nod, and you realize that he saw you looking at his crotch! You look down at it again, this time letting your gaze linger on it a bit longer. You look back at Erin, who smiles and nods at you. You look back at the coach's eyes, and see that he's smiling a bit wider now.
You feel yourself getting wet between the legs as you lick your lips and answer him, in your most coquettish voice "Well, I'm not sure coach. Maybe if I had a hint." He laughs a little as he responds, "well, right now, I have a need. If you can guess what it is and satisfy it, you'll make the squad." You look down at his crotch again. You now understand what is expected of you. And you want to do it. Not just to become a cheerleader, but because the sight of that hard cock has made you very horny.
Licking your lips, you kneel in front of him, and undo his pants and pull his underwear down. You marvel at the size of his cock. You slowly wrap your lips around just the head, rolling your tongue around it. The coach inhales sharply as your tongue swirls around the head of his cock. You reach a hand up and begin playing with his balls.
"Erin," he says, "you were right about this one."
"Have we ever steered you wrong?" Erin asks, as she walks to the desk to watch you.
You notice she's taken off her skirt and sweater, and is now only in her bra and panties. She climbs up on the desk behind the coach and snakes her arms around him. He turns his head towards her for a deep kiss. Looking up as best you can with a mouthful of dick, you see Erin undoing his shirt and running her hands all over his now exposed chest.
"No," he says, breaking the kiss, "you, your mom, and your sisters have always been right on the money."
Erin giggles as she sits to his right side. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulls into his embrace as they begin kissing again. You hear a soft click, and see Erin's lacy bra tumbling off the edge of the desk. Looking up, you see his hands are now squeezing and massaging her tits.
"And you," she says as she comes up for air, "have always been like a daddy to us." You swear you hear an emphasis on "daddy," but your mind is in such a fog from all that's happening that you can't be sure. You see Erin grinding her naked tits and panty-covered pussy against the coach's naked torso.
You can hardly believe what is happening. So you decide to just roll with it. You increase the pace of sucking on his cock, drawing more and more of his shaft into your mouth. He uses one hand to grab the back of your head and pull you gently but firmly down further. You feel the top of your head brushing against Erin's thigh as you suck his cock.
"Erin," he says, "I think our friend is a bit overdressed. Why don't you fix that?"
Erin giggles and slides off the desk and comes behind you as you continue working your mouth around the coach's massive cock. You barely register as Erin opens your blouse and pushes your skirt down to the floor. You're too occupied with the thing in your mouth and the tangy taste of precum on your tongue. Before you know it, you're completely naked. You feel fingers playing with your pussy and unconsciously hump back against them, only casually realizing that they're Erin's.
"Mmmmmmm, coach," Erin purrs, "she's nice and wet. Really juicy."
Erin comes up and wraps her arm around your waist. You moan around the coach's cock as you feel her large tits press into the naked flesh of your back.
"Leya," she whispers in your ear, "it's a nice cock, isn't it?"
You nod and moan, feeling his balls scrape your chin.
"Wouldn't it feel great up your cunt?"
You moan in the affirmative again. Sliding your mouth off his engorged dick, you stand up and wrap your arms around his neck. Lifting yourself up, you slide your sopping pussy down onto his hard shaft. You scream in ecstasy as you feel him filling you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you press your tongue into his mouth.He reciprocates as he starts pumping up and down, driving himself into you as his dick rubs against your clit.
You're so turned on that you can't stop yourself from cumming. Dimly, you hear yourself screaming in ecstasy as the moment hits you. As the feeling subsides, you feel that he's still hard inside you, filling you completely.
He grabs your waist in his massive hands and slowly pushes your upper body backwards. "You're now lying back in mid-air with your pussy full of his cock and legs wrapped around his waist. "He's sure strong!" you think to yourself as you look up at the ceiling.
Suddenly, your view of the ceiling is blocked by a naked pussy. Erin has doffed her panties and is now straddling your face. You reach your hands out and grab her thighs to steady yourself as you plunge your tongue into her cunt. Her moans mix with your own as you explore every inch of her cunt with your tongue, sucking on her clitty as you spread her pussy lips with your tongue. She's moaning and writhing above you as you work her cunt.
Suddenly, she pushes your head and shoulders up harder as she cums, flooding your mouth with her juices. That's enough to push you over the edge again. You scream as a massive orgasm rips through you, sending torrents of juice down over his cock. His hands slowly raise you back up, but he never loses the connection to your pussy. You wrap your arms around his neck again and kiss him, as passionately as before, but with more relaxation. You feel his hands reach around and cup your ass as he pushes himself into you harder. You're so relaxed that you barely feel it when his finger slides up your ass. Instead, you reflexively push yourself back against it. He smiles as he works two fingers up your ass and encounters no resistance, just a tight squeeze.
Suddenly, you feel his fingers withdraw. You moan in disappointment as the fingers up your butt were bringing you closer to another big cum. But your disappointment turns to joy as you feel something larger pushing its way up your butt. You look back, and see that Erin is now sporting a strap-on dildo, almost as big as the coach's cock.
You groan in pleasure as the massive fake shaft slides up your butt. You can't believe the sensation when they're both fully inside you. Erin and the coach start pumping together, forcing themselves deeper inside you. Your breath is coming in ragged gasps as you feel that wonderful feeling building in you again, bigger and better than any of the earlier ones. You're yelping and panting now as the two invaders push up inside you, harder and faster.
You emit a half-strangled gasp as the climax starts, howling as it runs through you like a massive electric current. Finally, the stimulation is too much for the coach and he shoots a load deep inside you. As he softens, you slide out of him. But Erin pushes you back on the desk and starts licking at your pussy to clean it off. Soon, there's no trace of his cum on your pussy, and Erin pulls you in for a passionate kiss, letting you taste him on her tongue and lips.
Your breathing is coming in long, slow gasps as you unwind. The coach reaches behind Erin and undoes the strap-on, wiping it clean and putting it in cabinet behind his desk. You hear the sounds of people approaching through the locker room.
"Congratulations," Erin says, "you've made the squad. It's time to meet the team."
Without bothering to get dressed, Erin leads you out into the locker room. As the voices get louder, you feel your pussy getting wet again...Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and Kelly felt him shooting in her mouth. She gulped it down eagerly as he drained into her. Finally, she let his softening shaft slip from her mouth and grinned at him. Mikey's face was flushed as he smiled weakly back at her. "Why, Mikey, you act as though you've never had your cock sucked!" she teased.
"I haven't," he managed to pant.
Kelly felt her heart flutter. "Oh, Mikey, you mean I was your first? That's so sweet!"
Mikey smiled back at her. Kelly looked down and saw his cock was getting hard again. Ah, fifteen-year-old boys! Kelly looked Mikey in the eyes again. "So, if you've never had your cock sucked, does that mean you're a virgin too?"
Mikey nodded. Kelly giggled. "Well, Mikey, today sure is your lucky day."
And with that, she straddled him and guided his cock into her eagerly awaiting pussy. She had dressed with the idea of getting fucked tonight, so she wore no panties. Mikey's eyes were as wide as saucers as, with one smooth movement, Kelly took his virginity.
"Mmmmmmm," she moaned as his hard shaft filled her up.
This was one of her favorite positions, and she quickly set up a rhythm bouncing on his cock. Soon, his hips were moving along with her. She cooed and mewed as they moved together, pushing his cock all the way up inside her. Kelly panted and moaned as his cock rubbed on her sensitive clitty, driving her closer to climax. She looked down at his expression of ecstasy. She slipped the straps off her dress and down, exposing her tits to him. His eyes widened again as she leaned down towards him. "You can suck them if you want," she panted.
He didn't need to be asked twice. His mouth closed on her offered nipples as she continued to ride him. The sensation of his teeth and tongue on her tits was too much, and she screamed as she came. He was right behind her, and she felt his sticky cum shoot deep inside her. They lay coupled like that for several minutes as he started softening inside her, finally sliding out with a squishing sound.
Kelly stood up and examined her dress. No stains, she noted. Good. She excused herself and went to the bathroom to clean up and put her dress back up. When she got back, Mikey was still lying naked, stroking his cock to a new erection. He heard her come in and turned to look at her. Kelly hesitated - it would be fun to continue, but she had to go meet the girls. "Sorry, Mikey, I'd love to stay, but I can't."
Mikey's face fell. She walked over to him and kissed him. "Hey, don't be sad. I'd love to get together with you again."
His face brightened a bit. "Get dressed," she commanded.
Confused, he started putting his clothes back on. Kelly pulled her little camera out of her bag and set up the timer. Looking up, she saw Mikey wearing what he had on when she came in - jeans, t-shirt and striped shirt. Kelly clicked the button and ran to Mikey's side, and leaned against him just as the camera took the picture. Running back, she checked the preview and smiled. It had come out well.
"What did you want that for?" asked Mikey.
"Mikey, sweetheart, it's not every day that a girl gets a boy's virginity. I know this was special for you, but it was special for me too, and I always want to remember it. And when I see this picture, I will. But now I have to go."
Mikey walked Kelly to the front door. They kissed as he opened it to let her out. "I'll call you!" she chirped as she dashed towards the car, started it up, and drove off.
As she pulled down the street, her phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hi honey!" came Aunt Linda's voice, "did you return the DVDs?"
"Yeah, I did. I'm going to meet the girls now, so I'll talk to you later."
"Wait a minute, before you hang up, just tell me - how was Mikey?"
Kelly laughed. "He was fine. He's grown up a lot."
"Mmmmmmm, I've noticed. How was his cock?"
Kelly gasped, "AUNT LINDA!"
The voice on the other end laughed. "Dear, I knew Debbie Wilson was out of town when I sent you over there. I just always loved Mikey and thought he'd appreciate the gift. Have fun with the girls!"I remove it when you're done and we kiss again. My hands slide down to cup your ass cheeks as I stand up, holding you up. You feel so light and dainty as I carry you up to the head of the bed and lay you down.
I rise and look down at you. I've never seen anything more beautiful or desirable. Your eyes have become slits through which I see your desire. I start to unbuckle my pants, but you reach up to stop me. You look up at me with a teasingly sexy expression as your hands reach up to my belt. I sit down, resting my back on the headboard as you unbuckle and ease my pants and underwear down, freeing my hard cock. Tossing my pants and boxers to one side, you engulf the entire length with your mouth. My sharp exhale betrays my lust and surprise. I didn't think you would want to do this, let alone be able to take me all the way down.
Remembering what you practiced on your mom's toys, you start swirling your tongue around the head. You hear me whispering my approval and encouragement and smile as you let just the head into your mouth and lick the underside. I moan in pleasure, and you slide just a little bit more in, teasing the underside with your tongue. Slowly, you work your way down the shaft again. You love the taste of this hot flesh in your mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum fills your mouth as you coax more and more of me down your throat. As I reach the back, you relax your throat and swallow, just like you practiced with the dildo, letting me slide down your throat. The musky scent of my pubic hair fills your nostrils as my balls hit your chin. My hands reach down to grasp your head. You feel your pussy getting moister as you continue working your throat and tongue around my cock.
You slide your mouth off my cock and start licking it up and down, stroking it with one hand as your other plays with my balls. As you take my balls into your mouth, I feel myself getting closer to the edge. Just as I try to warn you, but your mouth once again engulfs me as I slide down your throat. I'm too far gone - I relax and let my load rip. You're startled a little at first, but quickly adjust as my hot spunk shoots down your throat. You lick my softening shaft clean and let me slip out of your mouth. You look up at me with a proud grin and ask, "Did I do that right?"
"Emily, baby, that was amazing!" I reply.
You give a slight bow to acknowledge my praise, and grab my deflated cock between two fingers. "I hope that wasn't it for you - I have much bigger plans." You're amazed at the words coming out of your mouth. But knowing that you just gave me great pleasure has given you a feeling of incredible confidence.
"Oh, I'll be ready for you. Just give me a few minutes."
You smile impishly. "What happened to Emily, this is wrong?" you ask.
I pull you up to me and into a deep kiss. "I'll show you what happened to it" I growl as I start undoing your corset at the back. I ease the straps off your shoulder, exposing those beautiful tits. You gasp as my hand closes over your right mound. I kiss my way down your neck, down your shoulder, and then my lips close over your left nipple as I continue to squeeze the right one.
My right hand slides down and unclips the garter on your left leg. I switch my mouth over to your right tit as my left hand unclips the garter on the other side. As I ease the corset off of you and push it to the side, I feel your hand grab my hardening cock. You stroke it lightly as I ease you back on the bed, laying your head on the pillow. I position myself on top of you and kiss you again, feeling your fingers stroking my scalp. I kiss my way down your neck, then down to your tits again. I spend a little time at each nipple, teasing it with my tongue and teeth. You are babbling in incoherent pleasure as I kiss my way down your stomach.
I stop at your panties. I can smell the wet heat of your pussy through the silk. I plant a kiss on the front of your panties, and hear you moan in frustration. But then I start kissing your inner thigh, licking the inside of both until I come to the hem of your stockings. Grasping them gingerly in my fingers, I roll them off your legs. Then, starting at your ankle, I lick my way slowly back up your now bare right leg.
You are writhing on the bed in pleasure, grabbing big handfuls of the comforter. Once my tongue traces to your panties, I grasp the waist and start easing them down and off. Once they're off, I start licking up your left leg, from the ankle up. Your eyes are closed and your head thrown back as my tongue teases you.
When I reach the top of your thigh again, I rise to look down at you. You're now completely naked before me, your legs spread apart casually, exposing your nearly hairless pussy to me. I raise your right leg and start licking and kissing upwards from the ankle again, loving the sounds of your frustrated, ecstatic moaning. But this time, I don't stop at the top of your thigh.
Instead, I am rewarded with a loud scream of pleasure when my tongue touches the soft, wet flesh of your pussy. You hump your cunt up towards my eager mouth, placing your legs on my shoulders and raising your ass. I kiss and lick the musky, sweet pinkness, using my fingers to spread the lips and open you to me.
"Ohgodohgodohgod" you babble as my tongue explores the depths of your pussy. You had secretly hoped that I would do this - a few of the girls at school had talked about having this done to them and how great it was. Now you know what they were talking about. "Lick my pussy, oh yes!" you cry.
I smile at your encouragement and increase the tempo of my licking. My tongue finds your clit and I start licking and nibbling at it, making you scream in pleasure. I continue manipulating it with my finger as I stab my tongue in and out of your cunt, drawing yelps of delight from you.
You can't believe how good it feels - it's sending currents of pleasure up your body. Your back is arched all the way off the bed as my tongue continues to press into your pussy. Then, you feel something slide up your ass. Before you register that it's my finger, the added pressure sends you into climax. You're dimly aware of your screaming in ecstasy as my mouth coaxes one, then two, then three orgasms out of you - each one feeding into the other like waves crashing into one another. As your breathing slows, you're aware of your back touching the bed again and your legs sliding off my shoulder, spreading in an obscene diamond around me. I rise up and look down at your panting, naked body, covered in a light sheen of sweat. You look up at me and smile. "God, that was amazing!" you tell me.
"I can tell you enjoyed it." I reply. "I liked it too."
You look down and see my cock is rock hard. Raising your legs up, you use your heels to pull me forward. There's no mistaking what you want. I slide up and put my cock at the head of your pussy. As my head nudges the wet lips open, we look at each other. This is the moment when either one of us could back down. I look at you as if to say "are you sure?" You nod in response to my unspoken question. I slowly ease into you. You moan as my cock stretches your pussy. I push in slowly, reveling in how tight you feel. The head of my cock bumps up against a spongy barrier. I look down at you again. "This might hurt." I warn you.
You look at me with wanton eyes. Locking your legs around my waist, you say, "I don't care. Just do it. FUCK ME!"
At that, I push through with one hard, fast thrust, feeling your virginity break before me. You scream in pain as I tear through you, but the sobs of pain turn to cries of pleasure as my cock pushes into you. You're tight as only a virgin can be, but so wet that it feels like you're pulling me inside you. I ease into you inch by agonizing inch. You are panting as I work my way into you, stretching and filling you in a way you've never been filled before. My balls touch your ass, signaling that I'm all the way in.
Our eyes meet again. I bend down and kiss you as I start pumping in and out of you. You can't believe how good it feels, especially when my shaft rubs against your clit. Our breathing quickens as our bodies move against each other. Your fingers are in my hair as you lick and bite on my ear, sending shivers of pleasure down my body. I grab the rails of the headboard and start using them to pull into you harder and faster. You're yelping in pleasure as I drive into you harder and faster. You can feel it building inside you, bigger than any you've felt before. You scream as it hits you, spots exploding before your eyes. Dimly, you're aware of me grunting as well, and of me shooting off deep inside you.
Our breathing slows to normal as we are wrapped around each other. I turn you on your side and hold you close. "I love you," we say to each other at nearly the same time, giggling as we do.
From the bedroom door, we hear the sounds of hands clapping. Standing in the doorway, with a big grin on her face, is your mother...She pulled down my swim shorts and started sucking me off, looking up at me with those gorgeous eyes as she did. You eventually joined her at my cock, and the two of you gave me an amazing blowjob with lots of tongue, suction and, most sexily, eye contact. It was more than I could take, and I came all over your faces.
Here's something I wrote after jerking off thanks to you!
Kelly had been helping her dad get ready for the big fishing trip. She pouted when she found out that it was a "boys only" outing, but perked up when she found out Uncle Jim would be going along as well. That meant plenty of time with Tammy and Rick, though they might have to sneak out to avoid Aunt Shari's watchful eyes. Kelly's pussy hummed in anticipation of the fun she could have with her cousins. Just then, the phone rang. Her dad answered, then handed the phone to Kelly. "It's for you - Aunt Shari."
"Hello?"
"Hi Kelly! I know it's short notice, but do you think you could stay here until Sunday? I just found out that my best friend from college had a heart attack, and with Jim and John gone as well, I'd just feel better if a responsible adult was home with Tammy and Rick just to keep an eye on them. Can you help?"
Kelly grinned wickedly. "Oh, she could watch over them all right!" "Sure, Aunt Shari, that's fine! I'll have my dad drop me off when he comes to pick up Uncle Jim."
"Oh, thank you, Kelly! Kate will be back from school Sunday afternoon, so you're free to go after then. See you in a bit!"
"Bye, Aunt Shari!"
Kelly's dad took the phone from her. "What was that all about?"
Kelly smiled wickedly. "Aunt Shari is going to be gone too, and wants me to go over there to stay with Tammy and Rick. You know, to keep them out of trouble."
Kelly's dad grinned at her. "I think you'll be the one getting them in trouble."
Her eyes flicked down to her dad's crotch. His hard cock was clearly outlined in his jeans. She reached out and started stroking it. "Aw, daddy, wouldn't you rather skip this silly trip and stay with Tammy and me?"
He grunted as her delicate touch aroused him. "Kitten, if I skip this trip, your Uncle Jim will too, and you know what he'll want to do."
Kelly wrinkled her nose. Uncle Jim was definitely part of the mix she wanted. "I know, dad, I know. But here," she knelt before him, "how about I give you a little send-off." She unbuttoned and pulled down his pants and boxers, exposing his hard cock. Closing her lips around the head, she began teasing it with her hot pink tongue.
"Ahhhhhh, God..." he exhaled...
At Aunt Shari's, Kelly, Tammy and Rick helped load up Kelly's dad's SUV and Aunt Shari's car, and then watched as they all drove away. When the cars were out of sight, all three dashed back into the house, eager to get a start on their weekend of fun. Jumping onto Tammy's bed, they immediately doffed their clothes. Tammy gasped in mock surprise at Rick's hard-on.
"Rick, I swear, have you had that all morning?"
"Hey, it's not my fault!" Rick replied indignantly.
Kelly fixed Tammy with a quizzical look. "Oh, he's just mad 'cause I started giving him a blowjob this morning in the bathroom and had to stop when we heard mom coming up the stairs."
"Aw," Kelly purred, mock sympathy on her face, "Poor Rick. So horny and no relief. Well, come here, cuz, and let me take care of that for you." Kelly rested on the headboard as Rick bounded up, guiding his cock into his older cousin's eager mouth.
Rick sighed as Kelly set up a delicious sucking motion.
Tammy, meanwhile, positioned herself between Kelly's thighs and started licking her pussy. She tasted the residual stickiness, and looked up at Kelly. "Well, I see you gave Uncle John a nice send off!"
Kelly smiled around Rick's cock as she spread her legs wider to give Tammy better access. Tammy licked and probed Kelly's dripping pussy, driving her closer to orgasm. Meanwhile, Kelly eagerly drew Rick all the way in her mouth, teasing the underside of his cock with her skilled tongue. Rick was so horny he could have already shot off in Kelly's mouth, but she was using her lips, tongue, and even a little bit of tooth pressure to control him. Soon, Rick was moaning and groaning in frustrated pleasure, desperate to shoot his load. Kelly sensed that he needed release, and decided to give it to him. Rick roared as he filled Kelly's talented mouth with his salty cum. Kelly felt her own orgasm ripple through her like a current as Tammy's tongue assaulted her sensitive clit.
It was just then that the three horny youngsters heard a horrified shriek of "OH MY GOD!"
They all turned to look, and there, in the doorway, a whole day early, was Kate. "My GOD! This is DISGUSTING! You're all GOING TO HELL! I'm telling Mom!" Kate dropped the duffel bag she was holding and ran down the hall.
Kelly thought quickly. "Tammy, Rick, get her!"
Tammy and Rick jumped off the bed and ran down the hall. Kelly could hear the sound of struggling in Jim and Shari's room. "Let GO of me, you sick bastard! GIVE ME BACK THAT PHONE!" Ignoring it, Kelly rooted around in Tammy's nightstand, hoping that what she was looking for was there. Ah! There it was! Kelly grabbed the long black case and ran down the hall to find her cousins. A rudimentary plan had formed in her brain- hopefully it would work.
Kate was writhing on the bed as Rick held her down with his strong arms. She was hissing and spitting curses at them like a possessed person. "Rick, pull her hands up to the headboard." Kelly commanded. Kate struggled in vain as Rick dragged her up. Kelly opened the bag, pulled the handcuffs out of it, and quickly cuffed Kate to the wrought iron headboard. "She's not going anywhere, Rick, you can let her go." Rick relaxed his grip. The headboard clanged as Kate screamed and hissed at them.
Tammy finally exhaled. "So, uh, what are we going to do about this?"
Kelly looked at the writhing, screaming girl on the bed. "Well, we obviously can't have her telling Aunt Shari."
"Oh, I'm telling mom!" hissed Kate, "I'm going to tell mom, dad, everyone at church, the cops. You all are going to be locked up until you die, and then you'll go to Hell like all perverts and fornicators! You better kill me if you want me to shut up, because you can't keep me locked up forever."
"Oh, please, Kate," Kelly sarcas-tically replied, "don't be so dramatic. You just need an attitude adjustment. Rick, Tammy, hold her legs." Tammy and Rick each grabbed one of Kate's legs and held them tight as she tried to kick out. As the siblings held their struggling sister's legs apart, they lifted her skirt, revealing Kate's earth-tone panties.
"I don't know what you're planning, Kelly, but it won't work!" Kate spat. Kelly ignored her and pulled down the waistband of Kate's panties. "Nooo! Stop!" Kate howled.
With Tammy and Rick's help, Kelly managed to remove Kate's underwear, exposing her lightly furred pussy to everyone. Kate blushed deeply as she realized that she was exposed. "Perverts! Fornicators!" she yelled.
Kelly sighed, wondering to herself if this was really the right thing. But then she thought, if they don't do this, then everyone will suffer. Kate was so self-righteous, she would blow the lid off of everything without a thought of the consequences. This was the only way. Resolved, Kelly brought her face down to Kate's pussy. "Sick bitch!" Kate cried as Kelly's tongue touched her pussy. Kate continued hurling epithets as Kelly started licking and sucking on her more aggressively.
Kate struggled to ignore the pleasurable feelings emanating from her pussy. She had similar feelings before, when she would play with herself quietly in her room. But never as intense as the feelings Kelly's skilled tongue was drawing out of her. Her face was contorted into a mask of both horror and pleasure as Kelly's tongue assaulted her clit and sensitive pussy lips. Unconsciously, she began humping her crotch up into Kelly's face. Kate's eyes were closed and her head thrown back. Her protests had devolved into an incoherent babble as her pleasure started building. Her back arched off the bed and sparks exploded before her eyes as the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced wracked her body. Kelly kept her face pressed firmly on Kate's pussy as Kate's climax took her over. Tammy and Rick relaxed their grip on Kate's legs, sensing that it was no longer necessary.
Kelly looked up at the flushed and semi-conscious Kate. In a low voice, she whispered "Let's get her clothes off."
Kelly undid Kate's skirt while Tammy and Rick unbuttoned her blouse and unfastened her bra in the front, revealing Kate's large, firm tits with their large, pink nipples. Kate was starting to become aware of what was happening to her, and protested weakly. But Kelly slid up her exposed body and planted a deep tongue kiss. Kate tensed at first, but then relaxed to accept her cousin's probing tongue. Kelly was surprised and pleased when she felt Kate's tongue begin to push back. She broke the kiss, and motioned to Tammy. Tammy tentatively kissed Kate as well, and in her blissed-out state, Kate kissed back eagerly. Tammy relaxed and the sisters' tongues dueled with each other. Finally, it was Rick's turn. Rick kissed Kate eagerly, and was thrilled at how eagerly she returned his affections. She was starting to come out of her stupor, and suddenly tensed as she realized what she was doing. "No, wait" she objected, but her protests sounded insincere.
Kelly was pleased at the progress of her plan. She leaned over to whisper into Tammy's ear. Tammy nodded, and moved down to Kate's pussy. Spreading her legs, Tammy dove in, causing Kate to moan again - in pleasure.Kelly turned to Rick, who was sporting a large and fairly uncomfortable-looking erection. "Come here, Rick," she purred, "let me take care of that for you."
Rick eagerly jumped up to feed his cock to Kelly. Kelly had positioned herself where Kate would have an up-close view of Rick's cock. Kate was writhing on the bed in pleasure at the sight of Kelly eagerly sucking on Rick's thick cock while Tammy flicked her clit with her fingers. Soon, Kate was out of her mind with pleasure again.
Kelly kept her eye on Kate's reactions, and occasionally would let Rick's cock slip out of her mouth to fall towards Kate's face. At first, Kate reacted in shock, but gradually, she started craning her neck to try and reach it. Kelly grinned - it was time. She guided Rick's cock into Kate's mouth. Kate's eyes widened as she suddenly had a mouthful of cock, but Kelly lay next to her and started whispering encouragement into Kate's ear as she squeezed Kate's large nipples. Kate's mind was in a fog as she mindlessly sucked and licked the cock in her mouth. Kelly watched her - at the angle and with her lack of experience, she wasn't very good, but Kelly could see that Rick didn't care. His eyes were closed and his head thrown back as his older sister licked and sucked his hard prick.
Kate moaned as Tammy's tongue action sent her into climax again. Kelly whispered into Kate's ear. "See, isn't this fun?"
Kate moaned vaguely affirmatively.
Kelly smiled "It's a nice cock. I love it when Rick fucks me. Tammy loves it too. I bet you will too." Kate's eyes flashed with fear. Kelly saw it and immediately tried to soothe her. "It will be fine, sweetie. Rick, it's time. Get your cock out of her mouth and fuck her."
Rick pulled his cock out of Kate's mouth and moved down. He positioned himself at the entrance to her pussy and slowly eased the head in. Tammy and Kelly moved to the side to watch. Kate panted at the sudden sensation of her pussy lips spreading around this new invasion. Tammy and Kelly's oral attentions had left Kate plenty slick, but she was also incredibly tight. Rick slowly pushed more and more in until he bumped up against the spongy barrier. Kelly ordered him to stop and looked down at Kate, whose eyes were a mix of lust and fear.
"Kate, it's up to you."
Time seemed to stop as Kate looked at her younger brother. In the past few minutes, she had experienced more pleasure than she had ever known before. If this was a sin, why did it feel so good? Kate's pussy squeezed Rick's cock, still embedded partially in her. It felt so good! The pleasure relaxed her, and made her decision easier. Looking into his eyes, she purred "Fuck me, Rick."
Hearing those words, Rick drove his cock forward. Kate screamed as Rick took her virginity. Tammy and Kelly both kissed Kate, telling her it would be OK. And soon, it was. Rick began pumping in and out of her as the pain subsided, replaced by a feeling of incredible pleasure. Kelly quietly unlocked the handcuffs and Rick and Kate fell into each other's arms, kissing passionately as Rick drove his cock deep into her deflowered cunt. Kate mewed and cooed in pleasure as Rick's cock rubbed against her sensitive clit, driving her closer to her third climax of the afternoon. Rick was getting very close himself - Tammy and Kelly could both see that. But Kate was first, screaming in pleasure as she came yet again, her biggest one yet.
"Don't cum in her, Rick!" Kelly warned.
It took all his self-control for Rick to pull out of her. Kelly dragged Rick by the cock and pointed him into Kate's mouth. Kate didn't hesitate- she opened her mouth and took Rick in just as he shot his load down her throat. Kate continued sucking on him like a popsicle as he emptied himself. When he was drained, Kelly and Tammy each kissed Kate in turn to taste Rick's sticky load.
The four young lovers paused as they considered the significance of what had just happened. And then they heard a throat clearing. There, standing in the doorway, was Kelly's dad! "Um," he began, "Shari decided she wanted Jim to come with her instead of fishing, so I decided to come back and, well..."
"Oh, God, Uncle John!" Kate cried, "PLEASE don't tell my folks! They'll kill me!"
Kelly grinned at her father and then turned to Kate. "Kate, you should know something about my dad... | null | Chapter 1 - An Everlasting Love | Authors/Kellys_Diary/Stories By Others/Windy City Attorney.Fantasies Inspired By Kelly - MF Mf inc father daughter.txt |
93,744 | Sterling Severn | Ashley Madison 3 | You may have already talked with Ashley after she watched Ben fuck you and fuck you very well.
So I figure Ashley, if she is very much like many women who know their husband has buried his dick deep inside another woman, will want a "revenge fuck." Since Ashley watched and semi-approved basically up to the end, Ashley is going to want a semi-revenge fuck with Steve. And you and Ashley can find out if Ben is the typical hypocritical male. Not that all males are hypocritical, but rather those men who can easily fuck other women, either with the wife knowing or not (adultery), but the same men who cannot tolerate knowing about or watching other men equally fucking their wife. Ben's dick will tell the story as he watches Steve do Ashley.
Then you and Ashley talk about the ultimate gift a girl can give her father after Ashley discovers her oldest daughter masturbating AND admitting she was thinking of her father. You would, of course, counsel the ultimate gift a girl can ever give her father is her virginity. You would cite your religious belief that it is meet and right so to do. That is, to honor her father and submit to his needs. You would also admit it is one of your greatest regrets: that you did not give your father your virginity and it is a regret you know you will feel for the rest of your life.
It would not be a stretch, in my humble opinion, to determine Ben's desire to do his daughters (duh!) and convince Ashley of the importance of her daughter's first penetration experience be with a man who truly loves her. Ben would be most kind and gentle with his daughters. Unlike a potential disaster should it be a teenage boy looking to shove it in without regard to his girlfriend's (Ben & Ashley's daughter's) physical and emotional needs as he pounds her pussy for his release. Further, this notion of "saving it for my husband" is no longer culturally relevant within today's 21st century society. (Birth control is so pervasive.) How many couples discover their sexual incompatibility on the consummation of their marriage or shortly thereafter when "saving it for marriage"? When the sex is bad it is 80% of the marriage relationship. When the sex is good (great) it is 20% of the relationship, yes? (The 80/20 rule.) All things you might discuss with Ashley, maybe.
Then, inevitably, Ashley will discover her son trying to pull his dick off masturbating so frequently she "comes" to realize his needs and how their relationship can become solid, as yours is with your fathers. Ashley "comes" to realize as a loving and giving mother she must provide her son what he needs. Ashley's son learns to love & respect his mother in the most intimate and profound way possible. She "comes" to understand what a young male must experience to develop loving and respectful relations with a female.
After Ben has had sex with both daughters, and she with her son, you might convince Ashley of the ultimate event for Ashley's new found open sexuality. To join the "family group"! (son 10, daughters 11 & 12). You & Steve would be their "first" - outside family experience. All would then "come" to look forward to the larger party.
Tell Ashley your stories of the teenage (and younger) boys you have had sex with at the family parties. Convince her there is nothing like the hardest cocks she will ever experience AND their ability to fire like a semi-automatic gun ("Glock" I believe you mentioned in the story.) So very true! Of course you would tell her that you were "... horny as hell from watching some of the most erotic sex acts [you'd] ever seen ..." at your "First Family Sex Party"! Perhaps you will also tell her about your second & third family sex parties. Perhaps you will also tell her about Jacob, Andy, Ryan, as well as the many others with whom you had great sexual experiences with. (And double the fun: sucking while fucking very eager teenage boys). Yes, you always seem to feel guilty afterwards. Very much like I did after masturbating when I was a kid because it was a bad thing in the eyes of God :( But I got over the guilt and did it again! Sometimes within hours. :-) Sometimes a day or 2 :-) I hope you do to.
Anyway, I see the potential with your friend Ashley "to go all the way" with Ben, 3 very horny children and all becoming active members of the "family group". I'll bet your story of their first party would be fantastic! Each daughter trying to outdo the other pleasuring and satisfying the men for the number of compliments they receive. How THAT builds self-esteem. Describing how they become so very comfortable with their developing bodies and learn how attractive and desirable they are to males.
Love your stories so much, I've almost pulled MY dick off. Even better, closing my eyes and visualize the events from your stories while I do my partner. I cum so damn hard she usually knows what I've been doing and isn't very happy about it. Unfortunately, maybe she is not the right one. She will not read your stories as I do. :-( Hoping to find some lady who will. Perhaps someone like you.
Love,
Sterling | MF Mf Fm incest father daughter mother son adultery | null | Authors/Kellys_Diary/Diary/20151008 Ashley Madison 3 - MF Mf Fm incest father daughter mother son adultery.txt |
94,035 | Wilma | Peeking | You wake up quite early and immediately you remember it all. Of course you do. You have been thinking of nothing else all night while trying to sleep. And when you finally drifted off to sleep, you dreamt about it. A quick shower doesn't help you to clear your mind. You have to talk to her. Tell her what happened yesterday was wrong. Because it was, wasn't it? But something holds you back outside her door. The noise. Makes you remember. It's the same noises she made yesterday when your head was between her thighs. Your heart skips a beat when you slowly open the door just a little. You can see everything. She is nude and only the sheet and her pillow is still on the bed. The rest is on the floor. She's lying on her stomach and her ass is rotating over her hand.
"J-e-n-n-i-e," she whispers slowly, almost harshly. "J-e-n-n-i-e." You suddenly realize that what happened yesterday wasn't a coincidence. You just hadn't understood. Until it happened.
"J-e-n-n-i-e," she whispered again. Just as she had done yesterday when you finally had kissed her back. That was the reason that she had given you drinks yesterday. That was the reason for all her compliments. You hadn't realized yesterday, but now you did. You had thought that it was something that just happened, inspired by the moment, but she must have longed after you for a long time.
"Yes," she suddenly sighs. "Yes, Jennie, it feels so good." When she is resting after the orgasm and slowly tastes her own fingers, you remember her taste.
"Thanks, Jennie, I love you." You don't know what to do. You just stand there, overwhelmed by emotions. Your plan was to tell her that this was wrong, but now you are not so sure. But you know one thing, your life is going to change.
Just as you have decided to show yourself, you are stopped by a sudden movement. She is now kneeling on all fours, parting her ass cheeks. You can see her tight hole and you blush when you remember how you kissed her there. You remember how she had sighed and wanted you to go further, to insert your tongue in her small orifice. But you hadn't dared. You blush even more when you realize that you regret that you didn't. She's so beautiful. You see her wet fingers leave her pussy, caressing her anus and then disappearing deep inside. Your own hand is inside your panties and you can't really understand how you became that wet. You also hear your own breathing. Is it too loud? Will she hear?
Her fingers keep on going in and out, in and out. Faster and faster. Unexpectedly they are in her mouth and you have to stop masturbating to not explode. Quickly she changes position. You can't really understand how she does it, but she's on her back, her feet behind her head and she's staring at her pussy, only 3-4 inches away. You knew she was very flexible, but how is it possible? You wonder if you could do that yourself. Oh, she's trying to reach her pussy with her tongue and you can't stand on your feet anymore. You sit at the door and for some seconds you only concentrate on yourself, your own satisfaction. But you just have to watch her. Her fingers are going fast from ass to mouth, and you should really find it disgusting, but you find your own finger inside your young anus. Her juices are glistening in her dark pubic hair and you remember her sweet taste.
While you are thinking about these sweet memories, something strange happens. Her fingers open her pussy, almost tear it apart and she starts to sigh.
"Ooohhhh, yeeaaahhhh," she sighs. And you can hear a small fart, and you almost start to giggle hysterically, but then you see it. A yellow jet of urine aiming for her face only inches away.
"Oh, Jennie," she moans. "It's spraying her chin, her nose and her mouth that is wide open. Her tongue is welcoming the piss and you hear her swallow. "Yes, Jennie, yes." Your pussy reacts in a way it shouldn't. Your clit is so hard and your hand is warm and sticky with all the juices. But it isn't over. "Nnngghhh," she groans and the pee is drenching her face and hair but there is something going on. Her anus is slowly opening and a brown turd is showing.
"JENNIE, YES!" she is close to screaming now and you are fighting with yourself to not turn and run away. But you stay and your head is filled with what's happening before your eyes. The turd gets bigger and falls down. She tries to catch it in her mouth but misses, but there's another one and this time she succeeds. Her mouth closes and she's breathing hard through her nose and her entire body is convulsing. "Oh, Jennie." You see the turd being chewed up while she cries out your name. She's now flat on her back, masturbating, whispering your name. Cumming and cumming again.
As in a trance you walk towards her. At first she looks puzzled but then terrified. But without hesitation you place yourself over her. Seeking her mouth. You find it and when you first taste her you come immediately. She hugs you so hard, kisses you so deep.
"Jennie," she whispers. Only that. "Jennie." But you are still so horny and you open her legs and find the source for your passion. She's not clean there and your searching tongue and hungry mouth makes her groan.
"Can you do it, Jennie?" she asks. "Can you do it now?" Her voice trembles and her eyes are pleading and you know you want to do it. Feed her. You straddle her face and her wet tongue is so nice on your anus. It encourages you and you push hard and slowly your anus is opening and you pee in her hair.
"Oh, Jennie," she cries. "Shit. Shit in my mouth."
"Yeah," you answer. "I'm shitting in your mouth. Eat my shit, Mommy." | null | null | Authors/Scatwoman/Vintage Scat Stories Archive/peeking.txt |
94,118 | Karen | Yvette | Yvette had just received a brochure from Denmark, a brochure depicting and describing almost every conceivable act between two women. This brochure had come from the most notorious lesbian brothel in all of Europe! After reading and looking at the brochure for two days, Yvette packed a bag and drew her meager savings out of the bank and purchased a ticket to Copenhagen. She was going to see whoever ran this brothel, if she could work there. If she was unable to work there, at least she would be able to employ these girls that worked there.
Within a few hours, she was flying to Copenhagen. Yvette went through customs and soon had asked directions to this infamous lesbian brothel, and the cab driver quickly escorted her there. Once there, Yvette steeled herself before opening the door. Asking directions of the door woman, Yvette was soon seated before the madam who ran the establishment.
"Hello, I am Madam Helga. What may I do for you?"
Yvette blushed, "I'd like to work for you!"
Madam Helga didn't bat an eye, "We don't get many American ladies here. American ladies think sex is something only done at night behind closed doors, most of the time with lights out. I have several openings for girls, but none for an American girl."
"Madam Helga, I speak four different languages, I was raised in France. When I was 14, my family moved to the states," Yvette outlined her history.
"How old are you now, my dear?" Helga asked.
"Twenty-three."
"And you're French? Not American?" It seemed as if Helga's interest picked up.
"I am French by birth," Yvette noticed Madam Helga's interest picking up. "I was born in Amiens. I've known about your establishment ever since I was a little girl, my mother used to come here. There is very little about this business that I don't know and love doing. I will do ANYTHING!"
The Madam raised an eyebrow, "Anything? That says a whole lot!"
"Anything!" Yvette restated.
Madam locked her desk drawer and stood up, "Perhaps I should take you around the rooms and let you see just what goes on here. Then you may leave which I'm sure you will after you see what the girls are doing.
Yvette stood to allow the Madam to pass.
Madam led Yvette upstairs, past a couple of big female guards, and into a room lined with black windows. "I use these windows to check on my customers from time to time as well as check on my girls. These are one-way windows so I can see into the room without the customers knowing I'm watching." She flipped a switch which lighted up the adjoining room. In this room, there was a 17 or 18 year old girl bound spread-eagle to a heavy cross beam, and she was being strapped heavily. She had welts on her ass, down the back of her legs, across her titties and down her stomach to her front thighs. At a glance, it would appear that this girl was one solid welt. The lady doing the strapping began striking the girl with upward blows, landing them on the girl's spread pussy, which made her twist and jump with each blow.
"Are you willing to undergo this? I have several lady customers that love to strap a young girl," Madam asked with a faint smile.
"I have felt this several times," Yvette's eyes glued to the scene.
Madam Helga switched the window off. "Here's something you've probably never experienced," and she flipped a switch on the adjoining wall and a room was instantly visible. A young girl was submitting to a variety of weights hung on her pussy lips, hanging down and stretching her pussy lips out at least four inches! The woman who had hung the weights on the girl's pussy lips was now lashing the young girl's breasts with a cane. Yvette knew how much a cane hurt, she had felt this several times; it hurt worse than any kind of whipping or spanking. As the lady swung the cane at the young girl's tits, it made the weights swing back and forth, cutting deeper and deeper into the thin membrane of the girl's pussy lips. There were tears in her eyes, but she had no choice but to remain still as a gag had been pushed into her mouth. There was no sound, this girl would have to endure this vicious caning.
"You like this?" Madam watched the caning.
"That poor girl. I would willingly go into that room and take her place," Yvette said.
"You might just have to do that, in time, if you work for me," Madam switched her window off. "But tell me, what really turns you on? Something you haven't seen yet?"
Yvette blushed furiously.
"Oh!" Madam Helga grinned, "the way you're blushing, I'd guess you are into something very nasty!"
Still blushing, Yvette nodded her head.
"Are you a toilet-mouth?" Madam Helga knew good and well what the answer would be.
Yvette dropped to her knees and hugged Madam Helga's legs and gazed up into her face, "Yes, Madam Helga, I am a toilet mouth. A real human toilet. Please let me work for you and arrange for ladies to come in and use my mouth!"
"To tell you the truth, I could use another toilet girl. I have several ladies that like to use toilet girls. But before I agree to hire you, perhaps we should go upstairs, that's where all my toilet girls work. Then you may decide against working here. Some of the ladies get pretty gross with the girls."
"I can take it Madam, I love verbal degradation!" Yvette urged the Madam.
"Come along then and I'll show you things you've never seen before," and the two of them ascended another stairway into another black-windowed room. "Here you will see some of my dirtiest girls at work. At the present, there are two different rooms that have this going on as we speak. Would you like to see these rooms?"
"Oh yes, Madam Helga, very much!" Yvette bubbled.
Madam Helga flipped on a switch and instantly a room came into view. At first glance, it might appear that a young girl, no more than 16 was eating another woman's pussy. Her face was buried between the woman's legs at the moment, but she soon raised her head to reveal a mouthful of filthy shit.
"This lady likes for a young girl to shit in her cunt and then eat it back out. Have you ever done that?" Madam Helga asked.
"No!" Yvette was watching the young girl chewing up the shit.
"You're really going to get a surprise now." Madam Helga flipped the switch off and reached for another. Instantly another room came into view and it showed two women and a very young girl. "That girl is only ten. Her name is Sonia and the woman on her left is her mother, Francine. Francine gave birth to that girl when she was only fourteen. To pay for this girl's upkeep, she had to take a job here. Recently, Francine brought her little girl here to work as she works, as a toilet-mouth. Strange, isn't it? But then again, we European women have a very different attitude about sex. We Europeans accept sex far more openly than the girls and women of the United States. Therefore, you will see a lot of variations of human sexuality."
Yvette was watching the mother and daughter chew up the big turd. Lying facing each other on their stomachs, slowly they devoured the brown fruit.
"Does this make you hot? Look at that other woman. She's rubbing her clit like it was steel!" Helga laughed and switched off the switch.
"Yes Madam Helga, that makes me hot. Please let me work for you," Yvette begged.
"You mean as my personal toilet? Or for other ladies as well?" Helga smiled as she brushed Yvette's cheek.
"I would be your personal toilet if you like, but I'm afraid you couldn't produce enough for me!"
"Just how much would you want?" Madam Helga questioned.
"I would like for you to arrange a session of TEN women for me, at one time!" Yvette blanched.
"There's no way you could eat that much! You see, Yvette, ladies that come in for that service often save it up for four or five days! It might be very difficult for these ladies to save up that much, but they really get their money's worth!"
"Four or five days?" Yvette turned red.
"Yes bitch, four or five days! I think you should start with just one lady first. Then if you want more of that nasty stuff, I'll arrange it. By the way, are you a good fister? Have you taken a fist?" Madam Helga turned her rump to Yvette.
"You?" Yvette couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"That will be your last test. To see if you're a good fister. But before we go back down to my office, let me show you another room." Madam Helga flipped on another switch and in this room was a big woman, at least 5'10" and weighing close to 200 pounds. She was fisting a girl who could have not been over 12 years of age.She had her hand and arm buried in this girl's ass almost to her elbow!
"That poor girl! She must be in terrible pain!" Yvette gasped.
"That girl is Danelle, and she loves to be fisted in the ass! Here, let me turn up the volume so you can hear." Helga turned a knob.
"Oh yesssss!" Danelle could be heard saying. "Pound my ass!"
"Little bitch! I've already pounded your ass for thirty minutes! It's time I pulled my hand out and made you clean up all the mess on my arm!"
"Ooooh, just a little longer!" Danelle could be heard saying.
"After you've cleaned my hand and arm up, maybe, just maybe I'll shove it back in!"
"Thank you Mistress, thank you!"
The heavy-set woman withdrew her hand, scraping along the slippery bowel walls and withdrew a handful of slimy shit which she held up to the girl. "Eat it, little cunt. I like to see a girl eat her own shit!"
Madam Helga flipped the switch off. "Ready for your last test?"
"Madam ... I've never fisted a woman in the ass," Yvette said. "Does this mean I don't get the job?"
"We'll see," Helga turned and walked out the door. "I'll teach you all about it."
"Thank you Madam," Yvette mumbled.
Once back in Madam Helga's office, Yvette was greeted by the sight of this beautiful woman undressing before her very eyes. While previously she had paid little attention to the woman's figure, now she was all eyes.
"Take your clothes off too," Madam Helga smiled warmly. "Does my body excite you?"
"Oh yes, very much! You are a lovely woman," Yvette began discarding her own clothing.
Madam Helga knelt on a hassock, "First you must show me what kind of ass-licker you are. Get down on your knees and start licking my bathroom hole!"
With a moan, Yvette dropped to her knees and sunk her face between the moons of Madam Helga's ass and drove her tongue into that warm, puckered hole.
Yvette licked at Madam's Helga's asshole for several minutes when the door opened and another elegantly dressed woman came in. "I see you're getting your asshole worshipped. Is she doing a good job?"
"Yes, she's doing beautifully, Mrs. Gjork. She just came to me, wanting to work for me. Introduce yourself to Mrs. Gjork, Yvette."
Blushing like a school girl, Yvette drew her face from out between Helga's ass cheeks, but managed to say 'Hi' in a very soft tone.
"Look at her blushing. How wonderful. Your girls have all become immune to us ladies and our desires," Mrs. Gjork brushed Yvette's cheek with a gloved hand.
"She's blushing because of her desire ... she wants to be one of my toilet girls!" Madam Helga spoke up as she wiggled her ass in Yvette's face. "But before I hire her, I was getting a sample of her tongue and then teach her how to fist a woman."
"You've never fisted a woman?" Mrs. Gjork asked Yvette. "Knowing Madam, I know she wants to teach you how to fist a woman's ass. Right Helga? Yvette, fisting a woman is like taking hold of her heart. You will feel every little pulse in her bowels as it wraps around your hand and arm."
"Sonia and Francine are busy right now, Mrs. Gjork. Would you like one of my other girls?" Madam Helga asked.
"Do you mind if I use Yvette here? It thrills me to see a girl blush the way she is blushing," Mrs. Gjork asked.
"I don't think so, at least for the time. I'll let you have Danelle for half price, if you like," Helga offered.
"Well, all right Helga, but I would have loved browning Yvette's mouth real good. And watching her eat it all. I haven't shit for three days now. I'm walking sideways it feels like so much!"
Madam Helga laughed, "Oh all right, you can use my newest addition, Yvette. Are you ready to start your new job?"
"You mean I'm hired?" Yvette asked excitedly.
"Yes, you're hired. You two go on up to room number #6. Now get out of here and let me dress. I'll come up later to watch her," Helga waved the two away.
Mrs. Gjork took Yvette's hand and they walked off together. When they entered room #6, she asked, "Have you ever eaten a woman's shit?"
"Yes Mrs. Gjork, several times!" Yvette could not stop blushing.
Mrs. Gjork began undressing. "Several times? Do you enjoy that rotten taste?"
Yvette hid her face in her hands .... "Yes!"
"Take your hands away from your face, I can't see all those beautiful blushes!"
Yvette dropped her hands.
"And you want to eat my shit, don't you? All that foul tasting filth that comes out of my asshole like a long brown rope ... stinking like a sewer!"
"Yes!" Yvette admitted, "I like the way it smells too!"
"Of course you do. You're a filthy girl, Yvette. But let me tell you about my shit. You already know I haven't shit in three days, but during these three days I have really stuffed myself! Most of that shit up my ass is very foul, it will be contaminated from being up there all this time and be smelling to high heaven. But you want it anyway, don't you?"
"Use me as a human toilet!" Yvette began undressing.
"I'll use you like more than a human toilet. Did you ever see an unflushed toilet? Yellowed water and the shit breaking apart from being in the water so long? That's how your mouth will look! But first, lick my asshole and get it all wet so my shit can come out. When I save it up this long, it gets all dried out and hard so I have a hard time shitting it out. But you like that don't you cunt, having to chew it many, many times just so you can get it down your toilet mouth. Lick it, start licking my dirty shit-hole!"
"Yes Mistress," Yvette dropped to her knees and began rimming Mrs. Gjork.
"Ooooh YES!" Mrs. Gjork rasped. "You're VERY good at this! Does my asshole taste nasty?"
"No, Mistress, it tastes sweet," Yvette mumbled.
"Do you like the way my asshole smells?" Mrs. Gjork looked back.
Yvette placed her nose up to Mrs. Gjork's asshole and inhaled deeply, "Yes Mrs. Gjork, I love the way your asshole smells!"
"You're just anxious for that nasty taste, aren't you, you filthy twat! But you just hold your nose there as I fart ... inhale it deeply! Tell me what it reminds you of!" and Mrs. Gjork blew out a big fart.
Yvette inhaled deeply, "It reminds me of shit! Let me have it .... PLEASE!"
Mrs. Gjork laughed at Yvette, "There is nothing as disgraceful as a girl begging for another woman's waste, her poop that has been decaying up in her bowels!"
"It will be sweet! I just know it will! Dump in my mouth!"
Yvette continued licking at the woman's asshole.
"Just a fraction of an inch away from where your tongue is now, is some of that filthy stuff you want so much...but I'm not going to just dump it in your mouth, get me that platter over there," Mrs. Gjork pointed. "I want to watch you eating my filthy shit!"
Yvette got up to get the platter and handed it to Mrs. Gjork.
Mrs. Gjork placed the platter on a table and, climbing up, turned her back to Yvette. "Now you watch it all come out, every hideous and obnoxious inch of it! Have you had lunch yet? I hope not, it will make a wonderful meal for a girl who is so terribly dirty and filthy!" and Mrs. Gjork began to grunt. She grunted several times to get her turd started out and finally the blunt end of a massive turd was visible. "Can you see it yet?"
"Yes Mistress," Yvette licked her lips.
Mrs. Gjork laughed again, "What a disgusting little twat you are, watching another woman shit and you're salivating! Hand me that wine glass over there, I'm going to have to pee and there's no sense in it going to waste."
Yvette handed the wine glass to Mrs. Gjork and she filled it to within an inch of the top. "Watch it all come out now," Mrs. Gjork grunted again and started her massive turd out.
"Mistress! It's so big!" Yvette exclaimed. "It's got to be at least two inches thick!"
"I always shit this much when I come in here! You just keep watching! I've got a lot more to drop!" and the shit kept coming. The turd hung down at least nine inches before it broke off, but the shit kept coming, faster now and softer once Mrs. Gjork got past the firmer part. It kept breaking off and landing on the turd already lying in the platter. There was approximately 20 inches of turd on the platter now, but Mrs. Gjork did not stop there. She strained and pushed for all she was worth, bringing forth a soft, runny shit, like chocolate syrup, which covered her pile of shit already on the platter. Straining hard, Mrs. Gjork could not produce any more so she stood up to look down at her pile of shit. "That's about normal for me if I keep putting it off," and she got down off the table. "Does that make you hungry?"
"Yes Mistress, I am a human toilet!" Yvette stated. "I want to eat your shit!"
"Of course you do, you're a little shit-pig and I can do anything with you now. Stinking shit and it's making you hungry. First I want you to lick up all that scum I dropped over that big turd!"
"Thank you, Mistress," and Yvette leaned over the big pile and was about to start licking at it when Mrs. Gjork pushed her face down into the pile of shit and rubbed her face back and forth in it before she grabbed a handful of Yvette's hair and pulled her head up.
"You're a real shit-face now, START EATING IT!" Mrs. Gjork pointed.
Yvette lowered her shit caked face into the pile of shit and bit off a big mouthful before raising up to start chewing it.
"SHIT-EATER! That's digusting!" Mrs. Gjork watched Yvette chewing her shit. "Flush it down your toilet throat!"
Yvette swallowed. "Mistress Gjork, you don't allow me to taste it very much."
"You want to taste it more? Taste that filthy shit? All right cunt, chew it till you have nothing but a brown soup in your dirty mouth!" Mrs. Gjork said.Yvette leaned over and took another overly abundant amount in her mouth and raised her head and began to chew it and wallow it around in her mouth.
"EAT SHIT. EAT SHIT," Mrs. Gjork rasped. "EAT MY STINKING SHIT!"
Pulling her lips back, Yvette allowed Mrs. Gjork to watch her chewing up her stinking filth, watch it ooze between her teeth and come out of her lips to dribble a liquid stream down from the corners of her mouth and over her bottom lip.
"Flush it! Flush it!" Mrs. Gjork ordered, and Yvette swallowed.
"It is a great honor for me to wear your shit and eat it!" Yvette took another bite.
"I can't stand this," Mrs. Gjork gasped. "A girl loving the smell and taste of my shit!" and she took Yvette's face in her hands and drove her tongue deep into Yvette's shitty mouth. "Push it out of your mouth, but hold it with your lips!"
Yvette pushed the shit out of her mouth, and Mrs. Gjork started licking at it. She licked at it for about a minute before she bit off a piece and began to chew on it too.
"Mistress!" Yvette garbled and rasped, "You're eating your own shit!"
Mrs. Gjork swallowed, "Don't you tell any of the other girls that I did this with you. Take another bite!"
Yvette leaned over the pile of shit and took a real big mouthful. Her cheeks bulged out with this mouthful, and she started chewing it as she gazed with wonder at Mrs. Gjork who was lying on her back beside her.
"Chew it up real good and then put it in my mouth," Mrs. Gjork said. "You can have the next mouthful."
Yvette chewed this big mouthful until it was lumpy and, leaning over Mrs. Gjork, sealed her lips to Mrs. Gjork's and slipped her shitty tongue into the woman's mouth. Mrs. Gjork actually sucked the slimy mess right out of Yvette's mouth and swallowed it as Yvette leaned over the pile and took another bite.
"I forgot how delicious shit was!" Mrs. Gjork swallowed, and got up to start licking Yvette's shit-covered face. "I'm more disgusting than you are, I'm eating my own shit! It tastes nasty and delicious at the same time!"
Yvette picked up another piece and shoved it into Mrs. Gjork's mouth.
"NO! No more! I might get hooked again!" Mrs. Gjork said, "The rest is for you."
Yvette leaned over the pile, by now more than half gone, and bit off another big bit and smeared her face in the remaining pile. Turning to Mrs. Gjork, she began chewing and placed her face right up to Mrs. Gjorn's face.
"You disgusting bitch, you!" and Mrs. Gjorn began licking at Yvette's face again.
Together, they finished Mrs. Gjork's shit.
"Remember, not a word of this to any of the girls here!" Mrs Gjork began crying.
Yvette took the woman in her arms and comforted her, wondering if Madam Helga had seen this from the viewing room. "Isn't it just wonderful to taste that poop from another woman's asshole?"
"That shit didn't come from another woman's asshole! It came from my asshole!" Mrs. Gjork managed a smile. "Maybe I should get a job here ... but that's another side of my life I don't want revealed. Let's get cleaned up some so I can return you to Madam Helga."
Later that night, after Yvette had been assigned a room, Madam Helga came in. "I saw you and Mrs. Gjork from the viewing room. I would have never of guessed that of Mrs. Gjork. She always uses my girls so vulgarly when she comes in. But it's now time for you to have lesson number two ... fisting a woman, which Mrs. Gjork interrupted."
"Madam Helga, I'm afraid to do that to you," Yvette crowded back against a wall.
"I'm going to teach you all about it so you can fist any woman who comes in here and wants that form of pleasure." Madam Helga began undressing.
"You mean some ladies find it pleasurable?" Yvette couldn't believe her ears.
"There are lots and lots of ladies who enjoy this little diversion, including me. But first, take this jar of corn oil and smear it all over my asshole," Madam Helga turned her rump to Yvette. "Push some inside and then smear it all over your hand and up your arm!"
"Up my arm?" Yvette questioned.
"All the way up to your elbow, you're going in that deep!"
"And that feels good?" Yvette was getting excited.
"You'll see when I have one of the girls do it to you. Have you got your hand and arm greased up? Start with only one finger, work it in and out until you feel my rectum start to relax and then add a second finger. OK?"
Yvette pushed one finger up Madam Helga's asshole and began moving it in and out.
"Add a second finger now!" Helga directed and moaned as Yvette pushed a second finger in. Then a third and then a fourth.
"Now fold your thumb over into your hand and rotate your hand back and forth, keeping steady pressure on my asshole!" Helga directed.
Yvette was amazed to see Madam Helga's asshole swallowing her entire hand.
"Do you feel you're at the bottom yet? You have reached my anal sling. Direct your hand towards my back, the rear of my rectum and it will slide around this sling. That's it, you've learned the biggest obstacle in fisting a woman's ass. Let your hand rest a moment before you start out again, but don't pull your hand back beyond that sling. This way you won't have to work back around that sling and you can really get deep in a woman's ass."
Yvette was amazed that a woman could accept this much in her ass without feeling pain, so she waited for Madam Helga to let her know when to continue. Meanwhile, her pussy was getting wetter and wetter from this new game.
"Go on deeper," Madam Helga directed. "Go in about three more inches and pull your hand back about two inches. In this way you'll work your hand deeper and deeper."
Yvette pushed her hand in deeper and withdrew it slightly before shoving it back in. Deeper and deeper her fist went until she had reached her elbow. "This has to hurt you!"
"It does hurt a little, but the pleasure I'm getting more than makes up for it. Shove on it deeper!"
"I'm at my elbow!" Yvette exclaimed.
"Use TWO hands!" Madam Helga was getting very excited now.
"It can't be done!" Yvette gasped in astonishment. "That's impossible!"
"You just do as I say!" Madam Helga demanded. "Start sliding the fingers of your other hand in my ass!"
Yvette slid fingers, one by one into the big cavity until she had her whole second hand lodged up the woman's ass.
"See, I told you this could be done. Now pull your hands out. I'd say you had professional training with this, you did very good. But remember that anal sling!"
"I would have bet money that this wasn't possible!" Yvette exclaimed.
"There are several women that come in here that want this, but more like to do it to another girl," Madam Helga explained. "I'll assign you to a room with another girl and give her orders to work on your asshole every night. Before long you will be able to take two hands just like I do!"
"If you say so," Yvette submitted.
"But for now, since you like eating shit so much, I'm taking you up to the toilet rooms. There won't be many ladies now as most of customers come in during the afternoon, but I do have several foreign ladies in here now."
"Toilet rooms?" Yvette asked.
"The toilet rooms are situated upstairs. You will be placed in a room that is 4x12 beneath several toilets. Ladies come in and use you as a human toilet! You will take all their piss in your mouth and drink as much of it as you can! After they stop pissing in your mouth, they will then shit in your open mouth. In front of these ladies is a downward tilted mirror so these ladies can watch you as you perform as a human toilet, a female toilet. You will be standing below their asses only about a foot and there is a foot-stool which you are to stand on to clean their ass after you've finished eating their shit. Now you MUST eat some from every woman that comes in or just lay down on the floor to allow these ladies to shit all over you!"
"Is this a punishment area?" Yvette asked.
"I do have girls serve in this area if they have been disrespectful of lady customers from time to time, but do you think you are the only girl I have that likes to eat shit?"
"You have others?" Yvette could not believe her ears. She had always felt that she alone was the only girl with this filthy desire.
Madam Helga laughed, "No, you're not my only girl with this nasty habit. I have three others besides you who go for this. And we're very famous, ladies come from all over the world to use my girls."
"Is there a girl now in your toilet rooms?" Yvette asked.
"At the present, there is only one. Would you like to meet her and serve with her in the toilet room?"
"Madam Helga, I've never eaten much shit, but I would love to meet this girl and serve with her." Yvette could not believe that such a position was really available to girls like her.
Madam Helga led Yvette back upstairs and made her undress and pushed her into a stinking toilet room. The other girl was standing beneath a toilet and the lady's ass was visible and a long, thick turd was hanging down and about to enter the girl's wide open mouth .... Yvette's mouth began to water .....Scat | null | null | Authors/Scatwoman/Vintage Scat Stories Archive/Yvette.txt |
94,292 | DreamSender | Arrival Of The Sapphire Goddess | You are sitting on a park bench in a busy city after a long day at work. Suddenly, you look to your right, and there is a deep-blue haired Lady with an equally blue cast to Her skin sitting beside you.
You wonder, "Who is this, and why did I not see Her arrive?" Although you did not speak aloud, She answers!
"I have come because I felt both your male need and your loneliness. Now, look into My Eyes, and see what we truly are to one another!"
You do look into Her eyes and find that they are not human flesh and blood, but sparkling Sapphire jewels, twinkling and scintillating, an endless depth and an endless path for you to follow. Your thoughts slowly come to a complete halt as you stare so deeply, your body going numb and wooden. All that exists for you is those Sapphire orbs, drawing you into them, deeper and deeper. Your will is dissolving as you continue to look and continue to sink, deeper and deeper still.
Your mind is so still now, so sleepy and drowsy, that you feel no surprise when She rises from the bench. And as She rises, She also grows, taller and taller still. You are still eye-locked with Her as She reaches the height of 7 feet, 8 feet, 9 feet, 10 feet, 12 feet, and larger still. And now Her Wings appear, each one the length of two city blocks.
She lifts you in Her arms as though you were a small child and flies off with you, higher and higher into the sky. She kisses your eyelids softly, and you lose the last of your consciousness.
When you find you can open your eyes again, you look and know you are no longer on the Planet of your Birth. Crystal trees, many colors, greener grass than ever grew on Earth. She is now human-sized again, and your head is lying on Her lap.
"Hello, My Pet. I am sorry I could not let you enjoy the ride, but this, My Home, must remain a secret location."
She picks a fruit from the nearest crystal tree and puts it to your nose. The smell alone is so sweet, it intoxicates. "Now, taste...and see..." *wink*
You bite into this luscious fruit. It sheds more juice than you thought such a small one could! And as it flows down your throat, you feel it spreading through your body like fire, warming your body, clouding your mind still further. Drunk on the fruit, drunk on Her nearness, your mind and body becoming aroused. Another bite, and the sensations are doubled. You find you are trancing again, more than a mind-trance, a trance of lust.
Deeper and deeper you are sinking, drunk on lust, drunk with desire. But you reach out to touch and find a barrier, as though there were glass betwixt you and She. "I-I n-need..." you stammer.
"WHAT do you need, My Pet?" She asks. "I need YOU!" you are finally able to shout. She smiles wickedly and then says, "If you want ME, you must be polite. A Goddess only responds to respect! ON YOUR KNEES, AND BEG FOR THE PRIVILEGE OF SERVICING ME!"
So you kneel and gently kiss those wondrous, blue toes, whose nails are also sparkling jewels. "Please, My Goddess, allow this unworthy one to serve Thee?"
Now She smiles, and it is as if a blue sun has risen. Her smile alone drives you deeper. You feel now as though you are lust incarnate. Your manhood is more solid than you have ever seen it. She waves Her hand, and your clothes vanish. She beckons, and your feet leave the ground as you float towards Her. Your motion stops a foot from Her body, but you remain suspended in air.
Now the Goddess spreads Her Wings, and with two short beats, Her body touches yours. She lowers Herself onto your man-pole. It feels as though it is immersed in lava, lava that does not burn, that can only be the fire of pure and unadulterated lust! Her tunnel is so active, you wonder if you can last long enough to satisfy Her hungry need. And every thrust takes you still deeper, deeper into the trance of lust.
"Worried, are you? You should not be!" She touches your temples, and you feel an energy spark enter. It goes down your spine and into your manhood. Now, the more She thrusts, the harder you get!
You love Her for hours, the time growing endless. She spasms in orgasm again and again, your energies both sustained by Her powers.
One last mighty cum, and She collapses on you, causing you to immediately explode yourself, stars dancing before your eyes as Her powers push you beyond your final limit. "Whew! It has been long since I felt this satiated. You are mine now, my total lust-slave. I will come for you again; you will not know where, you will not know when."
"Sleep now, my doting pet...forget this place, but remember the lust."
As consciousness leaves you once more, you feel your body re-energizing. Your last thought before sleep takes you, "Is this a dream? And if not, my Lady, ohhh, make it soon!"
Now you wake in your own bed, and I must wake you from the dream as well, if you were drawn in...*smile*.
More alive than you have felt in a while, wake as I count from: 10...9...8...7..6..5 halfway back to reality now...4...3...2..1. Hope this was as enjoyable for you as it was for me! *Wink*
Mystically Trancing, Hypnotic Enchantress Sapphire (Who Else?) | null | null | Authors/Goddess_DreamSender/Sappharrive.txt |
94,737 | Psiberzerker | Frotteuse | Yeah, I'm Japanese. So, I'll get that out of the way. I don't like Japanese cartoons; they're pretty stupid, and everyone just looks silly. Nobody talks like that, nobody ever talked like that, and I grew up in America, so I don't have a schoolgirl uniform. I'm 14, but because of how I look, the only guys that seem to like me are creepy old child molesters.
So, I guess that's how my sexuality got so fucked up. Okay, not the only guys, but a lot of them. Strangers out in public, they just stare and follow me, say stupid racist stuff, or talk to me in pidgin. It's an "R," not a "D." Stop it.
"Who did you vote for, in the election?" Haha, I heard that one before, too.
But the first time, I kind of liked it? Well, we're on the bus, but like the city bus, so this guy starts staring, and I can just imagine what he's thinking about. Doing to me, but my whole family was there, so he just stared at me and thought about it. Thing is, I don't know him, he's just some guy, but. I guess I thought if I didn't fight him, he wouldn't hurt me. I have rape fantasies because I always get creepy old men following me, staring at me, and thinking god knows what, but he man-spread.
You know what that is, when a guy takes up 2 seats and spreads out as much as he can, so nobody wants to sit with him? Yeah, well, I was shoved up against the window, and my brothers were fighting, so I kept getting bumped up against it, but I saw it.
His boner, he had one, and grinned. Raised his eyebrows, just staring and grinning when he saw me see it. Through his pants, but I could tell it was hard because you don't see it when it's squished, and I know what a boner is.
I have 2 brothers, and they have friends. I even watched one jack off once, but not my brother, one of his friends. He was hanging out, and he had to go to the bathroom, but not to pee. So, I saw it, I know what happens.
"Hh," and I thought about him, wetting his pants when he stopped the bus and got off.
"Hihihn!" I moved over to where he was sitting, and it was still warm from his butt. And his back and arms, I guess, because he had them up on the wall, but the boys could keep fighting, and I sat between the seats like he did. Looking at me and getting a stiffy.
I guess he couldn't get me because my family was there, but I thought about if he got me, and between the seats is these hard plastic edges. They're not sharp, you don't want passengers cutting our butts, but if you scootch around, you can get your butt around it, it just sticks in my back, and that hurts, so I have to sit forward.
No, the real good part is those edges squeezing me together. My labia, I took Health and passed it. I remember what all the words are, but then we took off, and that was my first vibrator. The 20-ton bus, with the big diesel motor underneath the seats. It wasn't even my first orgasm, but it was the best. Just thinking about him, looking at me, and thinking about, I don't know, touching me? Yeah, probably, but getting hard and wetting his tight pants.
"Uh!"
Yeah, okay. Right out in public, right in front of my family, but they weren't paying attention to me and looking around. Nobody was even looking at me since he got off.
"Hihihihn!" Yeah, I bet he jerked right off, and I can imagine we got off the same time, or he did remembering me like I did, thinking about him ejaculating in his tight pants. So, I fantasized before I did it for real, but I was too shy and scared because I knew they wouldn't want just that.
Then we got home, and I got the bathroom. The mirror, I was satisfied, but that's when I started to think about my looks and why that's a problem. I don't have much in my bra, not even a full A, so call it an A or 2, so I practically have to pull my shirt tight to show them.
High school boys just want to look at tits. I mean, for them to come up and talk to you, but then it doesn't even start. I sure can't go up and talk to them, not that I really want to, but I'm a teenage girl, I have needs, and everyone still sees me as a child. Some of the teachers even baby-talk me, which is as bad as pidgin or laughing when I suck at math.
Seriously, WTF, Mrs. Sutton? #NotAllAsians, that's like half the people on Earth is Asia, but we can't all be math wizards.
"Huh!" I can feel them, but you can't see them through my clothes. So, I just take off my bra, put on my nightie, and go to bed. But I dream, I'm on the bus, all alone, and naked. So there's all these guys around, looking at me. They can see my breasts and body hair, so I don't look like a little girl. Only this time, they don't do anything, they just look at me, and they all have boners in their tight pants, but they don't do anything. I keep waiting for them to do something, but they're afraid of showing their dicks, or the other guys looking at their dicks, so they just sit there and stare at me, naked until I wake up.
Hot as fuck. I kick my covers off, but those aren't the problem, and the boys are both snoring too loud. So, rub one off to go back to sleep. "Huh!" Just like the magic fingers on the bus, only of course I can't vibrate and shake them like the motor, but it feels good. If I can't sleep anyway, because I'm too hot, at least I can feel good, but my dad's a masseur. Shiatsu, he's really good at it, and he's got one.
It's like a vibrator, but for your finger. For massage, but if you go to Walmart and buy a Magic Wand, that's what it's called. "Back massager," says it right on the card in the plastic package thing.
Yeah, that's what it's for, why it's shaped like that, when something flat you can hold in your hand would work better, because you can push it down with your hand, like a masseur would do. You would think. Unless you need that big long handle to hold it between your legs, but I guess you don't want us to know what it's really for. My mom doesn't have one; she's married to a masseur, so. Yeah, but I talked to my friends about it, and giggled with them, because their moms have them, and they have to wait until they leave to "Borrow" them.
Right, like it's a "Back Massager." I bet.
But this one shakes my finger in between just fine, especially when I get the tip in and straighten it out so my nail pushes hard in the bottom, and I can feel the back of my bone, with the hard plastic ring right over my clitoris.
"Hh, hah!"
Yeah. He doesn't even use it, doesn't believe in mechanical massagers, or those weird ones that look like Jacks, because he's skilled and spent a lot of money to go to school for it. No, not in Tokyo, in Nevada. He grew up in America too.
"Hhh, h h. H!"
So that works pretty good, so I keep it and go back to bed. I like the massage table too, but I'd like it a lot better if I got my own room, instead of him having an office, so he can work at home. I know, "Money's tight," but I'm 14, and it's a pain in the ass to change in the bathroom, or have to go there to get off. So I can sleep. The boys have to do it too, but.
"Huh!" That's better. There's that. Now, where was I?
Oh yeah, on the bus with all those men, staring at me.
Only this time, I've got clothes on, so I have to take them off.
"Yeah!"
The other nice thing about it being tiny is I can take it with me. Most girls that see it don't even know what it is, it just looks like a big ring, until I show them the bezel? I don't know, like a wristwatch, only you turn it on like any other vibrator, and adjust the speed, or you can screw it off to adjust the little button battery.
We all got a good giggle out of that, but no you can't borrow it. Like I want it after they had it between their legs, and I don't know if I can wash it, or if you could wear a glove over it, but I sure don't want them running the battery down, because then I'd have to go to Batteries Plus.
But then we get to school, and none of them told on me. Or at least nobody came to ask me if I brought a vibrator to school, but I didn't show it off like a ring. I just left it in my purse and thought about it. Maybe getting it out to buzz off on lunch, but the only real place to do that would be the bathroom, and I hate doing it in the bathroom, because I have to at home, so I'll just kick the boys out and do it in bed like a normal person.
Then I remember dad had an old one. Big old thing with a metal motor you're supposed to put on the back of your hand and plug it in. Because it's got a cord to plug it in, like an electric razor, really, but I bet it's powerful, with that big motor, and it's got a big knob on the side to turn it up and down.
I wonder where he keeps it? Haven't seen it in years, and that was before I started getting so sexual, but make a note to dig that out when I get the chance. I looked for a Sybian, that looks fun in the videos, but they're like a thousand bucks, and where would I put it, or use it?
"Huh!" I wish I could just kick dad out to get a real office and I can have my own room. And a Sybian, while I'm wishing. He can't afford that, I get it, but it still sucks.Then the bell rings, and "Uh!" That means Math. Not just math, "Algebra," and now I have to pass it this time, but with common core, and it being math. Changing it to variables doesn't help, then I can get the b and the 6 messed up, if there's a 6b, and do you think I'm dyslexic? So I better think about that.
It'll be there when I get out for lunch. "Huh!" I don't have to go to the bathroom, where the buzz echoes, so that anyone that comes in can hear it, and I can get busted for bringing a vibrator to school.
No, math. Algebra, Mariko. Put that on pause until after math.
"Uh!" x numbers, and b minutes later. Yeah, I really need to get all that out of my head.
So, not, not the girl's room, but "Mhihihm!" It's a good thing I have lunch right after math, because.
X4-2b...
"Uh!"
I really need to just get that out of my head. Bad enough I'm supposed to be good at it, but being bad enough it breaks my brain? Just switch off, a minute, will you?
So, off campus, but just off campus. I don't really want all those kids that saw me to follow me, and catch me. "Sm!" Turn it on, and get it in my pants, though. Outside my panties, just. "Huh!" Warm them up, and imagine them all stopping, staring, then sticking around to watch. Push down my pubes, so it rolls down, and bulges in the seat lining. "Huh!"
Then I can get my shirt off, my bra out to see. I'm not a little girl. I got some, yeah not a lot, they don't bounce around, and hit you in the face.
"Nhihihn!"
Why am I thinking about tits? Boys, not nasty old men with their looks, and dirty thoughts.
"Hemh!"
Okay, maybe a fat old bald guy, with a beard, and. Nerd glasses.
"Meah!"
And a boner in some nice tight jeans to split my butt. Sitting in his lap, his hands all over me, and feeling my chest. Pushing up my bra, and the low droning hum of the bus, taking off, carrying us away.
"Smh!" Get my finger wet again, and slip my hand around. My hip, to the front. My pubes.
"Yeah!"
What if someone sees us?
"Oh yeah!"
Fuck that dick in your pants. Right up my ass crack, and feel my tits. "Huh!" I can kind of cup one inside my elbow, but it's not the same. I can grab the other one, though, and imagine him feeling down, over my pubes, in my hot pants. "Huh!"
I don't know, how long it took to walk around the school, to the trees, and found a spot, private enough. Much less how many minutes I had till the first bell. "Huh!" Enough time to fix my pants, and run through the building for class. Forgot my book, so I had to lean over, and read someone else's, but she slid it over between us.
Got it out of my head, though.
Biker (Displacement. She's imagining this from his POV, to get aroused by it.)
Good workout, but there's a little oriental girl, looking at me. At the bus stop, specifically the front of my shorts. Bicycle shorts, just did a few cardio laps around the reservoir, and "Ahem."
Biting her lip.
"Do you mind?"
I turned around, but. Spandex. And little pouch in the back of my exercise shirt for my wallet.
"How old are you, anyway."
"18? How old are you, man?"
"Well, it's not polite to stare."
"So? It doesn't stop men staring at me."
"Look, it's not like every man is a." Perv? Child molester? "You're really 18?"
"Yeah, it'll be great when I'm 29, and all the white guys think I'm 20." She rolled her eyes. "If I have to dress like this, and it still doesn't keep their eyes off of me, then I can look too." She shrugged. "Free country." She grinned, "And besides, why'd you dress like that?"
"To ride?" I pointed out my bike.
"Yeah, so they're like yoga pants."
I looked up.
"Yeah, you like yoga pants?"
"No," not really, but she saw the lie.
"Yeah right. Well, I like biker shorts. And creepy old men."
"Huh!" I grabbed my water bottle, drank it, and put it back in the cage. Then, I got on my bike, and rode it to the next stop.
Mariko (fM NS)
I sat in the back, corner behind the seats. Not one of the good buses, with the good seats. They're not close enough together, but the ones right in front of me aren't turned sideways over the wheel wells, so I can get a battery from Batteries + out, and my little purse vibe out.
I guess I got lucky, he's right, they're not all creepy peepers, but if he was, then maybe I'd do something stupid with him. I can think about it though, until I get home. Dig out the big one, and figure out what I can do with it. It's got a strap instead of a ring, so it doesn't flop down loose on my biggest finger. Doesn't even fit my thumb that tight, but with my whole hand buzzing, or throbbing. Turned all the way down, so it's a low deep note, see what that feels like.
This one's tiny, so all it's speeds are fast, or too fast, so I don't even feel the vibes, just like a long note. ___ Instead of ...
Then a Sybian, but they only had these in a pack, so 16 should last me a year, right? Yeah, right. Well, at least they're cheap? It was kind of nice, when it started running low, on lunch. Before it dies, but how long do they last, anyway? Doesn't matter, I can get more.
Clunk! Some homeless guy came on, and the wheels on his bag kept hitting the seats. Sideways to swing it through the seats, but he stuck it on the middle one, sat in the corner, and popped them off.
"Why didn't you do that before?" He tucked them behind it against the seat back.
"Because I just rolled it up to the bus." He sat back, "And then I'd have to carry the wheels, too."
"I never have seen that bag before."
"Came with the trailer."
"What trailer."
"It's a bike trailer, see." He held it up, "The frame folds up, and it hitches to my seat post here." On the end, where the bars came together like a Y He folded it back, behind one bag, then folded that under a bigger bag, and set it back down.
"Oh, are you homeless?"
"I prefer rentless," he patted it, "But this is all I own."
"And your bike."
"Yeah, but they have a rack for that."
Up front, I saw them. Sometimes with bikes on it.
"Must be nice."
"Yeah it is. Hard life, but I like the freedom."
"So, you don't have to be homeless."
"Well, you don't have to be anything. Huh! It actually takes a lot, to get off the streets. To get money, you need a job, which requires an address to apply for. But you need the money to pay rent, so Instead I focus more on making it comfortable and convenient, then trying to get a house."
"How long have you lived like this?'
"Off and on, my whole adult life? I never really could pull off the work for rent thing. So, I improvised."
"That's really cool, you know."
"Yeah," he grinned, "I know."
"So, where you going?"
"Oh, actually I left my bike at camp. Finally wore out my freewheel, so I decided to leave it, and come get another."
"So, Walmart?"
"What brings you out to the Reservoir?"
"Well, I just took the wrong bus. I was supposed to take the 25."
"So you took the 52? Because the signs are digital."
"Yeah, so it's like being color blind, only."
"Dismetria." I nodded. "So back to the downtown hub?"
"Yeah."
"Well, there's bike shops all over town. So, I can go anywhere. The ones downtown are expensive, but I'm not in a hurry."
"Hihihn! You talk to yourself."
"Yeah, nobody else understands me."
"So, you don't wear biker pants."
"Excuse me?"
"You know, spandex?"
"Yes, I know, but." He shook his head, "You usually talk to complete strangers about their underwear?"
"Hhihn! Well, they do it to me, so."
"Yeah, sometimes. Huh! It helps to have everything tucked away, in case I hit the seat, in a bump or something. I don't usually use the seat much, I use my legs for suspension.
He had his foot up, and bounced it, when he's talking. On his knee, sideways so he can put his arm up. on the back of the seat. It looks like a drumstick, and I can see the muscle beating like a heart when he shakes his foot like that.
"Sorry." He stopped.
But then the bus pulled up, so we got out, and I watched him pop a wheel back on the side. "Here," I handed him the other, but it's not late. "You want to hang out?"
"With me?" KhKhK! It kind of bent, straight, then straight, but over, so he can hold it up by the Y end. Or one of those box carts, they use for moving, or something big from the UPS truck.
"Burley Travoy." He turned it, turned it back, then leaned it down, to roll behind him.
"Yeah, it's not safe downtown. Just walking around, alone?"
"You know better than me, but yeah. Nice afternoon."
"So what brings you out to the Reservoir?"
"Washington Park. We're not supposed to camp there, but." He winked, "They haven't caught me yet. If you don't mind me saying, you've got very good French pronunciation?"
"I'm taking French."
"Oh," not going to ask what grade?
"I'm 15."
"Okay?"
"Most people think I look younger." Because.
"Didn't really think about it."
"Huh." He's cool. Doesn't look at me like that, and I guess it gets it out of my head.
He just walked...
"I should probably get a bike too."
"Yeah, if you're going to get around on the bus, and trolley system."
"You said, dis."
"Metria?" He nodded, "That's like Dyslexia, with numbers. I do it too, one of the handicaps that kept me from holding down a job, and making rent."
"Oh," makes sense.
"How do you spell it," so I can look it up later.
"Oh, there's no official spelling, I use an I instead of y, but that's just what I call it. Forget what the real word is. Numer, something, or something numerate, I think."
"You can look it up at the library." The big one's a few blocks over.It's not like they're going to jump out of an alley and snatch me, or they haven't done it yet, but they look at him.
Okay, he's got long hair and a beard, but not like a lumberjack hipster. Shaved on the sides, and a mustache like Arrow but brown, and grey instead of blond, but pointed. When he pulls it out and plays with it, like he did a few times while we're talking, but now we're walking, and not saying anything, and "Huh!"
"What?"
"It's just nice just hanging out with someone who doesn't have to say something just because it got quiet."
"Yeah, I'm an introvert, too." Makes sense, living alone, and that must be nice. Even better than having your own room and not having to worry about rent, like he says. I don't, but I live with my family, and that means staying in the boy's room, so dad can have an office.
"Yeah?" He pointed up, "There's the bike-shop." The ramp, but it's like a hill, so they need one, because if the door was on the ground it'd be sideways, anyway.
I held the door.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I need to get a freewheel." He pulled one out of a cargo pocket.
So, I just looked at bikes. I don't know what kind I want, but they got folding ones. It's kind of a bike town, there's lanes everywhere, and you see people riding them all the time.
"For fuck's sake," he threw out the gear. "It'd be cheaper just to get a used bike!"
He stomped back over here.
"Uhm, they're all like a hundred bucks." Or that was the cheapest one I saw.
"Yeah, but they tried to charge me $250 for the part. Huh! It's an old bike anyway."
He pulled something out of his other cargo pocket. Then he held it up to the seat-post, so I saw it was like the same Titanium green as his trailer. I looked back. "Well, this one's got pegs, so you want a ride back down to the bus station?"
"Yeah."
"Let me go borrow some tools."
He bought it, just like that. Put the seat down and turned the screws in the U bolts to tighten them down. "Where'd you get all that money?"
"Tax returns. My last job, I was a prep cook for a year in Taos."
"New Mexico?"
"In case you mistook it for Taos, Ohio."
"Bing?" He looked back.
"Cinemasins?" Some YouTube channel.
"Yeah, on the internet?" He's got a tablet-phone, too.
"I'm a technomad. Why I came up to Portland, for the bike culture and maritime climate."
"Okay," he stood up and held the black flap, thing, away from the tiny little post. The trailer just clipped right on that.
"How much do you weigh?"
"I don't know, about a buck 20?"
He stood up, straight, and twisted his head to pop and crack his neck. "Huh! Well, downhill you can stand on the pedals and just hang onto the bar. I'll ride back on the pegs, but you better get on first."
"Okay."
"Here," he pushed my hands in, "Hold inside the brakes, so I can work the controls."
"Okay."
There was plenty of room, if I bent my elbows in, and leaned over, he had plenty long arms, and it's not even the first time I rode a bike like this. Usually, I stood on the pegs in back, because I'm shorter, but this way, I could push up and hold my back up against his body.
He's not fat, for a homeless guy. At all, and he's got his arms around my head, but I sit down. He kind of holds my hips with his knees, especially in the turns, but yeah.
I definitely need to get a bike.
"Hey." He jumped off first, so I held it up. The trailer doesn't, like you'd think it would with 2 wheels like a tricycle.
"What?"
"You got a cigarette?"
"No," he pulled out a chunk of bamboo, "I have a pipe." Showed them, like a cigar, cut out of bamboo. Well, one of them came over and talked to me. Or stood there and tried to think of something to say.
"Hey, what are you hanging around with this bum for?"
"Hehaha! If you bum from a bum, what's that make you?"
"I'm Carl."
"I'm happy for you, why don't you guys go find an ashtray to raid? There's one right there, it's not a free country, you know."
"Yeah, it is."
"No, it's America, nothing's free here."
I laughed with him, "You are."
"Yeah, but those privileged entitled rich kids, you smoke?" He pulled out a ziplock full of cigarette butts. I wrinkled my nose, but he twisted one out, flicked it in the street, and sat down. To unhook the trailer, but he just stood it up by the side of the bus box. The main station, so there's a lot of stops for different buses. He looked up at the schedule, pulled out a pocket-watch. "You said the 25, right?"
"Yeah." I think. Checked the names of the stops first to make sure. "This is the right one. I was just in a hurry, cause I almost missed it."
"Well, no reason to head back to that camp now, except an old bike nobody's going to ride off with.
"Oh, there's lots of parks down there."
"Course there is, it's Portland. I bet there's hipsters over there, too."
"You're cool!"
"Thanks."
"Well, thanks for running off those boys."
"I can't imagine what it's like for you. I mean, women and girls, in general, but I hate to see that. Now, I don't mean to white knight and save the women."
LOL, "It's all right." Sometimes I can use the help, when there's like 4 of them. That's another thing, "Boys my age are cowards, they never come talk to me, unless they have friends to back them up."
"More selection, that way."
"Yeah, but then they fight over me, and get stupid showing off."
"So, you're not dating?" I made a face. "You don't like boys?"
"I don't like dating. Yeah, I had a boyfriend, well he said I was his girlfriend, we weren't doing it."
"Well, you're 15, so there wouldn't be anything wrong if you did."
"So, I decided I don't want to have sex and date. It's all just a waste of time."
"Haha, yeah. Introvert?" I nodded, "I'm pretty celibate myself. Not like asexual, but I don't really go looking for it."
"So, it's been a while?" I smiled.
"Well, I don't know about a while," he looked up, "Let me think. No, actually, there was that guy at the Joyce hotel, and that couldn't've been but a couple weeks."
"You are gay." Thought so.
"Not especially. Huh! I just don't care. About sex, I can handle myself, but it's nice to have someone else to do it for me. Every once in a while."
"Yeah, like that. Only without the someone else thing."
"You're auto-erotic, at all? Sorry if any of this is too personal, just smack me and tell me it's none of your business."
"No, it's okay." Finally someone to talk about it with, my friends don't understand, and just laughed at me, but he's cool. Especially because he doesn't really care. I mean, he didn't just say it, he doesn't check me out, or even look in my eyes much, he just keeps his head down. And hides behind the front of his ballcap. Or bill, that's what it is, but it's more like an army cap, at least it's Army green, and there's nothing on it, but it looks like an army cap.
"Huh! I like to do things. Instead of people, is there a word for that?" I figured out he knows the word for pretty much everything. You know, for a homeless guy. Correction: Rentless.
"Do it how?"
"Well, just rubbing on it, mostly. Like your bike seat."
"And your back, on the way down."
So, "Sorry," he did notice that.
"Sall right. Yes, Frottage. Or frotteurism, if you. Well, I guess it's not strangers if you use a sex-object."
"Oh no, strangers too." I nodded.
"You do it with strangers?"
"No, I mean. I think about it."
"Frotting strangers?"
"Yeah, frottage." I like the sound of it. "What's the difference?"
"Well, Frottage is like frotting. The act of sexual rubbing. Frotteurism is a paraphilia."
"Like pedophilia?"
"Right, except instead of molesting kids, you like frotting strangers. In public?"
"Yeah," that's the fantasy. "Sorry." He scooted.
"No, that's okay." He got up, "I think that's our bus."
Our bus. Like him and me, but it's pretty crowded. I found a seat, but not like, 2 seats. For both of us.
"Here you go, milady." He even bowed and waved.
"Uh!" Neckbeard, kind of not cute, but at least he has a full head of hair, instead of a fedora.
"So, you speak English?"
"Yes, it's pronounced Speak, not Speake'." I shook my head, but here comes. What's his name? That guy.
"I'm Kyle."
"And I'm tired." he waved him back. "Can I have the seat so I can make a lap?"
"Yeah."
He set down the folded up frame, with the wheels clamped between the bags. So, it was like a tent, or one of those sign boards. Out front of a coffee shop, or brewpub. Today's special. So, I had a seat. In his lap.
Everyone looked at me, but then they looked away.
"What is your name?"
"I usually consider it a judge of character how well I can get to know someone without exchanging names."
"Ooh, it's secret?"
"Not really, I just don't have a good head for names, either. Never forget a face, but I forget names."
"Oh," makes sense, and we made it hours, before I even thought about it. Like, just hanging out, without talking. Because we're introverts, so somebody doesn't have to be talking the whole time. Or, sitting in his lap without worrying about what pops up. Because nothing did, the whole time.
And as much as I thought about, riding some guy's dick on the bus. You know what's even better? Not doing it, and everyone looking away, because there's really nothing to look at. There was a stop, and people got off, because it's the first one leaving the central station. "Get up," he grabbed his bag. "Come on." Some seats emptied out up on the deck. In back, over the engine and wheels, it's one of those buses. They have all kinds, hundreds around here, because there's so many streets.
He sat by the window. 'I want to try it.'Over his shoulder.
"Frottage?" I nodded. Or no, frotteurism, I think that's how you spell it. "Is that French?" Like Masseur.
"Yeah, from Frotteur, one who frots." He nodded, "It's actually a crime, like vitriolage, because most frotteurs sexually assault women."
"In public?" He nodded. "Strangers."
"Yeah."
But the bus stopped, so he reached over to pick up his bag. So people don't step over it, or on it, or kick it. Between the seats like that. I looked back, "There are seats in the back."
All the way in the back, so I scooted out and went to get them first. "Um, excuse me." The guy in the middle turned his legs so I could get through, then he got there and put his bag up. On the seat, so I had to back up. Against the window, so my skirt pushed flat on the glass, and even my butt. So, anyone walking by, behind me, could see my butt through the window, but he sat down.
So, I sat down too. With the bag set up like that, the guy next to us couldn't really see, except I was sitting in his lap.
"Got a problem?"
"No, oh," He shook his head.
"Well, look away, before you do."
"Hihihn!" I felt it, but kind of leaned over. In his lap, but just curved over, the side, and against his flat tight feeling abs. I didn't feel any definition, like a 6 pack, but I definitely felt that, and rubbed it in with my butt. 'hih!'
He just rubbed my legs, through my skirt.
'hhh,' I nodded. But it started getting swell, and sticking up, so I could wiggle, and work it over the middle. Against my butt crack, and my panties pushed in between. I just leaned over, as far as I could, but with it sticking straight up like that, I couldn't get it even close to the front. At all, but that's fine. This is fine, I didn't even have to look out the window. This one had the electric voice, to call out the stops, so I know when to get off.
The bus, I can't get off like this, but I don't care. It feels good, and hopefully I can make him wet his pants. I don't guess it's like a date, just some bum I met on the streets, and went to the bike shop with, but I like this. I knew I would. It's not even like, a whole lot of pleasure, but it feels nice. I don't have to close my eyes, I just did, to feel it better.
Clackamas, so a few more stops. Plenty of time I'm sure, to get him off. I hope I can feel it. I doubt the mess will soak through. The semen, I mean he's got pretty thick shorts on, and whatever he wears under it, but it's not bike shorts. I don't think, because it all doesn't hang down, like a codpiece, in one of those old paintings. With the poofy sleeves with straps like rings, and the vest. He wears a vest, but not like, a dress vest. More like a cargo vest, with pockets like his cargo shorts, only more then four. A lot of them, I didn't count, but he unzipped it, when he sat down. And held it open, so I could get in his lap, and.
'chhhhh!'
He just relaxed. I couldn't feel it, but the way he breathed. I knew he was getting close, but then he just let it out his nose, and relaxed. Then it went soft. So, I turned sideways.
"Get a nice show?" I grinned at that asshole, next to us. Or the next seat over from the bag, but he got up, and hit the button on the box, on the bar. And got off, so I could move the bags over, and have my own seat. "Huh!" I just put my head back, and closed my eyes.
He didn't ask, but that was great. I wasn't even sleepy, I was excited, but I sure didn't want to talk about it, or see anyone, looking at me. I bet I'll really get off when I get home, just thinking about it.
"Huh!"
Psiberzerker {Mf Walk, Talk...}
"So yeah, frotteurist."
"Frotteusse."
"Fair enough."
"I figured, since a female masseur is a masseuse, that makes me a frotteusse."
"Yeah, I got it but how'd that feel?"
"All right?"
"I mean after."
"You got off."
"Then you got off, and you felt it. In the seat."
"Yeah!" Her eyes floated up. Not her eyelids, they didn't roll, she just looked up, and smiled. Dreamily.
"Emotional release." I nodded. What finally nailed it for me. I enjoyed it too, but strangers [x] in public [x] emotional release. Frotteurism. "More like piquerism," or picarism, "really. It's dangerous."
"Right?" She snapped out of it, "Um. Well, yeah, but. It's dangerous walking alone at night."
"Touche'." I looked around, "You just going to hang out for a while?" Girls, they don't just bang, and blow like the typical teenage boys do.
"Yeah, if you don't mind."
"Nope," pulled out my pipe, "Want to take the cart a second while I load up?"
"Not at all." She nodded, so I fished out one of the longer shorts, and split it with my thumbnails, packed it with the filter.
"Is that bamboo?"
"Yeah, it's free, and renewable." Grows inches per week in this climate, why they're called shoots.
"What's with all the spots?"
"I don't know." I held it up. Between us for both of us to look at it. "I only seen one, or a few in a planter, up by the Polytechnic."
"Huh, it's pretty."
"Yeah," the green faded a nice grassy tan, "I call it cheetah bamboo."
"Hah, yeah. Good name for it."
"This looks like a pretty good spot, for the night." I pulled up, set it back.
"You have a tent in there?"
"Yeah, if you want to stay the night." Saturday, I think. "Weekends don't mean so much when you're unemployed. 'cept you get to hang out with your working friends."
"That's."
"~Primus. Spaghetti Western." I think, or maybe Pork Soda. No, now I got that horrendous bass riff stuck in my head. Definitely Spaghetti Western. Pull the pud? We need new pornos!
"Huh! This is nice." She just sat back, "I could get used to this."
Dondy nody do deno. "Mhm?" She wasn't impressed at all! "Well, don't drop out of school just yet, kid."
"Uh!"
"But I guess I could show you a few tricks." I got up, "Uh! This lifestyle's hard on the back." unbuckled the fanny pack strapped to the triangle. Laid flat, for access to all the bags, and I can unstrap them with a nice table, as long as there's enough of a level on the hitch, and the wheels. Because no brakes. Clipped it to a tree trunk (I can adapt it to the new handlebars tomorrow) and pulled one end of the coiled 1" climbing strap out.
"What kind of tent is that?"
"It's a hammock." and my poncho. "The tent's in the bag, on the bottom there." I tied it off, and pulled it flat so it didn't twist on the way back to the other trunk. "I sleep up here, mostly. The tent's more of a backup, but this keeps me off the ground, and I can shelter my gear under it." I turned back, and pulled the drawstring off the hammock bag. So, the mesh doesn't catch on the zipper as it slips out, but turn back around to bend to the end of the hitch, tying it to the tree.
She just watches, I can get out her room after this. "You got a tent?" She shook her head. "Well, if you want that one, you can have it." Why it's on the bottom, haven't even aired it out in months. Might even be mildewed by now.
"Thanks!"
"It was a donation anyway." Really no reason to carry it around, other than it might come in handy, other than when I find a site that doesn't have 2 trees, or other anchor points to hang from. "I can get another." R2DToo gets lots of donations, I just can't stand being downtown. Too many people, and that's not even counting everyone else at the camp.
"You want to start a fire?"
"Can't," I pointed at the rose-bushes, "It's illegal, camping anywhere in Portland, and most other cities. So, you have to stealth camp." I shook out my camouflage poncho, "But if it's out of sight, they usually aren't in a hurry to run you off." Don't have to worry as much about being a cute little. "You Japanese?" I pointed back and forth, "Cheekbones."
"Yeah, you can see it?" She grinned.
"Sometimes, usually in the cheekbones." Fucking Japanese schoolgirl. Great. Probably has to fight them off with a stick. Frotteusse, though, so maybe I can try to understand it. Why, how, that's really my sexuality. Understanding all their weird fascinating fantasies, never met a Japanese frotteusse before. So, guess I haven't seen it all, huh? "Huhuh?"
"Nice sunset."
"Yeah."
I sat down, and packed another bowl. "Gonna have to go scrounge up some more butts soon. If you don't mind keeping an eye on the camp."
"No, not at all."
"In a minute." Puff puff. "Been a long day. Look over, you got a knife? Well, get one, you're gonna need it." Think, "Actually, can you hand me the middle one? It just unclips on the bottom. Yeah. I think." Unzip, and rifle through my tool pouch, in front. Backpack, but the chest strap locks it around that section just like a torso, so I just have to let the straps out.
"Yeah," cheap pocket-clip flick knife. "I'll show you how to use it later. Just clip it on something."
"What's this?" Feeling with her fingers.
"Those are thumb studs, to get it started opening, here." She handed it back. "If you flick your wrist, like this, then it flips out, and locks. Then you have to push this." I showed her the liner lock, "To fold it back with your thumb, try it."
"Where are you going?"
"To check the trashcans, and ashtrays, see what I can scrape up."
"For dinner?"
"Probably not," In this neighborhood, "Yeah, I'm a freegan, but it's an advanced class. Bottles, and cans, mostly. Each one's a nickel." And if I can get that bike on the trailer, maybe I can part it out, or somebody will at the bike exchange. It'll probably still be there in the morning, yeah it's an abandoned bike, in Portland, but you'd have to carry it up the bank, and start to put the wheel back on to see it doesn't have a freewheel.If not, I don't know how long I can use that spot, but I spotted two more potentially better ones, anyway, and a nice trashcan.
With a handle bag, good. Don't have to stink up my pockets, but load up the thigh pouches with 5 packs of the longnecks until I can get back to camp.
She's fine. Imagine the surprise of just some guy ducking behind that overgrown bush to take a leak and seeing her there. Sitting up in an inverted lotus position, playing with a flick-knife. Snapping out the blade and grinning so her eyes pinch in the corners.
"Ooh!" A Mountain Dew! Or a good-sized swig in the bottom, and "Snh?" It smells fresh. Today, plenty of other stuff under it, that should be rotted. Semi-urban park, or rural space for yuppie couples, I guess. Looked like mostly 3-bedroom units on the way in, might be bigger custom houses further back, but you could play flashlight tag in that park.
When's recycling here? She might know, tend to hit the same area the same day, but nice spot. Or spots, so they don't see me coming and going too much, to the same spots. A few days, maybe. After that I'm getting lucky, but the worst risk is a boot toe alarm clock, and move along. I don't mind, it's what I do. I move on...
No problem, but she's got a lot to learn. If she doesn't make it, encourage her to try, but it's a fallback. It's always a fallback, but not really a safe option without at least minimal gear, and oh look somebody threw out a perfectly good bag of burritos. Or 3, breakfast ones by the size of them, but pass the squeeze test. I can give them a sniff back at camp, but the tortillas still bend. Not even all that stiff yet, so "All right!"
Um, sub-urban survival 101. Covered, get a knife, and a tent. That one's not too heavy, but I have no concept of the sheer mass of her clothes. Relatively, or her strength-to-weight ratio. What'd she say about a buck 20?
Shake my head, we can figure out the math, but girl clothes, I imagine. So, sort out what's got at least some utility, see how high the ones with real pockets pile up, and work from there.
"Uh," what's next? Is that a dumpster?
Mariko (f Solo...)
"Hhuh!" So, he left me alone, and he really was gone a while, but I figured out if you put the Y up, and hook it on a broken-off branch, it's kind of like a seat, because it looked like a seat laying down. Think I got the hang of flicking the knife and shutting it without cutting myself. You want to go slow so it doesn't swing into your thumb, and I have to push the back with my finger to get it started, but with my thumb out of the way, after I nicked the nail, I swung it shut and put it down.
Then I figured out how the bag was hooked onto keyhole studs, and pulled it off, but then it was just like a handle tote, only made out of nylon, or polyester, I guess. I didn't look for a tag, just set it down and put it up. So the broken-off branch was under one of the Y arms, and I tried it. Maybe I could even climb up in his hammock, it looks more like a playground slide, but I tried it. The net in the end, like an L, was kind of like a seat, but there's a bar, and it's like a rubbery material. But it doesn't stretch, and it's comfortable enough. There's a handle in my back he twisted to unlock it and fold it down, but it's neat.
Cool, like him, and all his stuff, I bet he's got cool knives too. The boys would love to show him there's but maybe one of the swords. The short one, they never play with, just fight over the Katana because, well. Because Katana.
No idea what to do with it, but it's pretty, and greater than a knife, right? I don't really want the katana, it's heavy and long, but the short one's really more my size. And I bet he'd show me what to do with it.
But, "Hm!" What did he call it? Emotional Release, yeah. That was about as good as getting off on it, but I don't know which one I like better. I haven't even tried the big motor, but I just got fresh batteries, and "AHEGHM!" I can cough some lube up. I tried real lube, and I like it, but I just didn't bring any. But just get my panties down, and "SpB" Let it roll down my fingers to the bottom, and wipe it around real good. Then slip the motor on.
The tape around the sides is working, but it's sticky, and it got down around the ring too. So, just flip it around, and dig it in my pubes right over it, and turn it down as low as it'll go. With fresh batteries. mMm MmM mMm!
"Huh!"
He's gonna come back soon, I just know it. And see me like this.
"MH!" Yeah, I'll just get started without him, but I can work my fingertip in. Eventually. 'hihihih!' If I vibrate my tip on it long enough, with enough pressure until, "INH!" Nodding. "NGH!" Good. Wiggle it around in circles, then straighten it out to feel my bone with my nail, and the ring pressing deep into.
bdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbd
"Nhah!"
His back, I bet he'll need a back rub, and while I'm not a masseuse, I must say I do give a pretty damned good backrub. I can't rub off on him, on his back, but I can sit on his ass. Yeah, I bet he's got a nice hard tight biker's butt. From riding all day, but he gave me a tent and a knife. He's homeless, and if "If you bum off a bum, what's that make you?"
"Metabum." He nodded. Grinned, "You all right yourself, or you want a hand with that?"
"Oh!" I didn't hear him.
Just standing there, with glass bottles sticking out the tops of his cargo pockets. He didn't make a sound.
"HhihH!" I shivered and pulled the ring off. Looked down and turned it off.
"Nice vibe."
"Finger massager."
"I know, I've played with them." Klink! Set down a 10-pack of bottles and sat down, crossing his legs.
"My hands are filthy, but I got a water bottle. You hungry?" He pulled a paper bag out of a plastic one. "I got some burritos, but they're cold and old."
"Yeah, I'll take one."
"Still wrapped, but the foil had another bag over them, since it came out of a trashcan."
"Mhm?" I just chewed. "Mmh!" Sausage, egg, and cheese. Pretty good, even cold. I swallowed. "I eat off the ground, all the time, too."
"Well, it's weighing risks. Nobody goes hungry in Portland, and you can fly a sign. Out in public, so that's probably safer."
"I can get a sword."
"Oh yeah?"
"Probably." I took another bite. He kept eating too. Finished his.
"What kind?"
"Ngh! Like a Katana, only shorter?"
"Wakizashi." He unwrapped another. "You want some hand sanitizer?" He tossed me a bottle of generic Purell.
"Yeah, thanks. You think you could show me how to use it?" I waved them until they dried, like nail polish.
"A real one, or a wall piece of shit beater?"
"A beater," I nodded. "It's not even sharp."
"Well, it doesn't have to be. It won't cut, but it focuses the force on a line. Which really hurts and can give them a nasty bone-bruise if you know where to hit them. If you know how to slash with it, maybe a friction cut, but that's not much more effective, for pain compliance."
"Like S&M?"
"Well, without the masochistic part, but nothing punctuates a 'Get off me!' like an effective strike."
"What about with a knife?"
"You have brothers? With knives?"
"Yeah, I think they've got the same flick knife, only flat on the end, instead of curved. And," draw a little wave in the air.
"Serrated? Yeah. Tanto tip. Figures, uh. Yeah, depending on the wakizashi it might be a good fit, but you ever play ninjas and samurai with them?"
"Ninja, it's their favorite game."
"Well, it's like the knife, usually best to start with battojutsu."
"You know martial arts?"
"A little, but mostly shuffled a deck together from sparring with people who do, and been in a lot of fights."
"It's rough on the streets."
"Tell me about it, but I want you to know, this isn't a lifestyle choice. It's nice to have some skills and gear if you need them, but you have to stick with your primary plan, then failing that."
"Well, I don't have a primary plan."
"Save the foil." I handed it over. "It's useful. So anyway, you probably already thought that the typical find a man, get married, and have kids plan isn't right for you?"
"Well, if I get to know him, it's not fun."
"Okay, backburner sexuality a minute, but that means finding a job."
"Or running away with you." I nodded, already imagining hitching up the seat and putting my legs up. I can't right now, with my underwear down to my ankles, but indian style.
"Yeah, well that's not an option, so go ahead, and mark that off the list."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm cool to hang out with, but nobody wants to live with me. Apup!" He held up a hand, "Take my word for it, and it's awkward for me too."
"But I don't know if I can go it alone." And I know it'll take forever to find someone else as cool as him. "Here," I got up, but the seat fell off, so I picked it back up. "You want your seat?"
"Huhuh! I think it's time to lay down, actually, but you can stick that in the fence," he pointed, "If you want." He pulled back the poncho, halfway to the hood, where he tied it on. Camouflage, "Thanks for stowing my gear, but I usually leave them on the cart, to keep them off the ground. OhhhHH!" He stretched and popped his neck again.
"You want a back-rub?" Before he got in.
"Yeah, I'd love one." So, he pulled the tote off the branch and laid it down to sit on.
So, I knelt in the grass behind him. "Mmh!" He nodded, then just let his head down. "You're pretty dang good at that."
"I could be a massage therapist, like my dad."
"Oh yeah?" he muttered to himself, 'I could use a massage therapist.'
"He showed me a lot of Shiatsu."
"Get some ashiatsu while you're at it. That's fantastic."
"With the feet?"
"Mhm?"
"Want me to walk on your back?"Yeah," He just stuck his feet under the half-tent, kicked the bag out of the way, and rolled over. I worked the spine first, with one foot, then stepped down to the side, and went back up with the other.
POP!
"I can never get that one."
Ruby
"Mmh!" Not a voluntary sound. She sat on my head, knees hooked under my armpits, and pushed on my buttocks.
k
k
k
k
k
k
k
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!
"Guh!" Pulled me straight, like a rack, but she can torture me like this any time. Her calves pulled out, under my shoulders, and she sat down, forcing my face in the ring pillow to roll my skull, and frot my neck. No pops, but soft tissue, and a lycra layer stretching as she ran her split down my spine.
I nodded. "Huh!"
All right, I'm not going to stop her. Working out this strange technique of sexual massage, positional asphyxia, manual restraint, and frottage.
At least she's not a piquerist.
Tried acupuncture, didn't work, not really my thing.
She got up. "Turn over." Turned on her knee, and I settled down on the ring pillow. She felt me up first, just to get it lined up, and took her seat to get me hard. Lycra on lycra, as long as she keeps the wet end away from the wet spot, we'll be all right. She got her own room? Camped out, in protest until he came around. Closest park to her school, with a run to Andy and Bax to gear her up.
Not strangers, but she closes her eyes, and I don't try too hard to imagine what must be going through her head, just feel up her thighs, and the muscles working in there while she goes to work.
Frotteuse.
"Hh!" The novelty wore off, but she needs the practice, and I'm down. Pretty much a pathological bottom anyway, but the swim trunks. I can't really afford to cross-dress, and it's more about weight/volume than cost limiting my ability to own more than one wardrobe. But these have a built-in. Well, briefs, not quite a speedo, but the next best thing to a pair of spandex panties.
"I got a gun."
"How?"
"Some guy pulled it on me, so I took it away from him." Her hands, fingertips too, but the hard ridges of the heels with most of her weight to push into my breasts, and rub over my ribcage.
"Guh!"
"If you want it."
"Yeah, I'll take a look." Handy to have, if you need one. I try to avoid such situations, but you don't have to look for trouble, it can always find you.
She took my hand, but instead of moving it up to her chest, she pushed it back on mine. The center, just held it down, but forcing the tendons back with the web of her thumb, like I showed her.
"He pulled it cross-draw?" She nodded. "Hm!" Licked her lip, and let it pop out.
"Why'd he pull it on you?"
"My sword." Took to riding around with the Wakizashi, because she can. It can also attract attention. "He showed it to me, so I showed him why you don't bring one to a knife-fight."
The samurai had lots of reasons for wearing the dai-sho. You heard a lot about the Katana, but it's really most effective with both hands for leverage, and a good stance to cut with your whole body. If you know how, I don't, never actually had one. They still carried a short sword mostly for close quarters, because they're actually better within grappling reach. Mostly to counter the parts of Jujitsu that became Judo, Brazilian Jujitsu, Aikido, and so forth. The parts that involve throwing around another samurai in full armor, with a sword. Bare-handed, why they carried another sword. I'm a master of none, but I showed her what I thought she could use.
Then her dad came home, from the office he got a job at, and she leaned back to hold onto my knees, and work her heels in. Ashiatsu, she's been taking classes, a couple years.
I didn't even get hard, but I don't have to, for her to get off on it. I just spread her legs, so she could plop down between them. In yoga pants, and a skirt over them.
He's traditional, western Baptist? Grandparents converted in the camps, while we fought a war against the same Emperor they fled in the first place.
"Huh!" But, he's a massage-therapist. Too good for me to afford, specialist, but he's proud his daughter is going into the same business. She can get certified, with a GED, but she's waiting out the year to drop-out, with credits. In August, met her in August, some day or another.
"Happy birthday," she turned, and he kissed her cheek. She just realized, that was today? Didn't mention it, or coming up, just I'm 15. Still sitting between my legs, to work her heels into my chest. Most fathers wouldn't understand, but he's a therapist. It's exactly what it looks like, he just missed the sex-therapy for her he interrupted. Went back out, pulling his tie, just coming home from church.
She's not very good at it, yet. But when she says that, she means compared to her father. Who's a Master. If it was Jujitsu, he'd probably be about 3rd dan, but they don't have competitive Shiatsu. And Tungsudo, I haven't sparred with him yet, but my money is on him, kicking my ass.
So, she's high risk, with the caveats that she's armed, and getting better with them every day. And she has years to keep learning. 15, you tend to start saying it early to get used to it, instead of continuing to say 14, or whatever, months later.
She got me a gun, turned out to a racy .45. Not really my kind of gun, but I'll think of something to give her for it.
"Huh!" She helped me up, "Feel better?"
"Yeah," I sat up, heels down on the floor from the side of her futon. "Thanks."
But just for example, she disarmed a man, bare-handed, armed with a sword. Instead of pulling the sword to kill, or permanently maim him. She could have cut those tendons instead, or the one inside the hand, with either hand. Like I showed her. She didn't because she has enough control not to. Didn't have to, on a guy that pulled a gun on her. Cross-draw, not the best way to carry it.
I don't teach martial arts. The closest thing is in the spirit of Jeet Kune Do. How to develop your own style, and I have my own. Drawn from multiple influences, but at least it's not cultural appropriation for her, to draw from Americanized Ryu. Ryukyu, but not Kata, mostly sparring, and practice like this. Really more Kung Fu, or Marikodo. Her way. That's what we came up with. TBHP, this is what I live for.
It's better than sex. Much better. And I really like her ass-shiatsu, too. "Hihihn!" I giggle.
As for the gun, it's legally stolen. The way I see it (As a Progressive Anarchist) if you lack the self-control not to pull it on a girl that no doubt threatened his masculinity, and the retention to keep her from taking it away, you don't deserve to carry it. Buy another one, I can get rid of it, and probably something out of it.
Piquerista (fF Saph Fant)
"Huh!" The problem is not escalating physically meant escalating fantasies. Fortunately, I'm bisexual. The bad news is I'm piqueristic toward women. It's kind of not unlike Frotterism, only instead of groping, and humping girls, poking, and stabbing them. Especially the most female flesh, like the breasts, buttocks, face, thighs, and cunts. Just fantasy until some bitch pissed me off at school, we escalated each other, and I broke the tip off a pencil in her bra. I felt it give, thought that was her skin popping, I stabbed through, and that's.
Not okay.
I got suspended, they threatened to expel me, but I have a temper, and no masochistic woman to work it off on. Except Ruby, but unfortunately, she doesn't have any female flesh for me to poke, and prod at. I tried his buttocks, it just wasn't the same, and I'm probably confusing you with the pronouns now, so let me explain:
Ruby's like a transsexual, but non-op, because sex changes cost money, and she doesn't identify as Trans, because that means change. "So, basically a big hairy girl with some male privilege." Or a Fempath, physically male, emotionally female, and intellectually neuter. So, it's his body, and her heart. Basically.
White too, tried at length to describe what that's remotely like, but I just don't have the frame of reference. I wouldn't mind being that big, and strong, but he's in really damned good shape, except structurally. Especially the spine, he's been bad to it, and I guess he's pushing 40, but we don't care about age. Yes, it's a significant factor, but we don't really sweat the significant factors, when there's more significant ones.
Like having 2 potentially abusive sexual pathologies, that tend to target strangers in public. And, I walk around with a cheap beater sword tucked into my belt, so they challenge me. The problem is, they don't see me as a threat. Not all of them, some see me as a challenge, and those seem to be the overly masculinized assertive narcissist types. The "Alpha male." They're threatened by the existence of a strong independent female, but the open carry keeps the ones that are looking for victims off.
And vengeance vision? It's like gaydar, I don't black out, I just get so mad I can't control myself. That disarm probably works better with a sword, drawn back-grip, and bent backward between a pair of breasts. Big busty bouncy boobs in a bra, and a little alliteration.
"Huh!" Or even, an ice pick. I had one, but he took it away, because I just really don't need to carry around an ice pick. If I had, I'd have disarmed her, then probably stabbed downward through her plunging neckline, and the open top of her bra.
"HhuhH!"
But, that's a powerful enough fantasy. So I can relax. "Hhhhhhhh!" Pop my nail out, and just turn off the palm massager by feel.
"Whhhh!"
After all that sexual tension.
"Snhhhhh!"
I needed that.
"Whhhhh!"Whenever OPDX started, we built the Right 2 Dream Too homeless camp on the corner of Burnside and 3rd. Check it out if you're ever in the neighborhood. If you need a place to stay or want to help, they always need assistance.
Mariko is a piece of self-indulgent erotic psychological fiction, culled together from several different people I've met and talked to over the years. | null | null | Authors/Psiberzerker/Ages/Frotteuse.txt |
94,768 | Psiberzerker | This Year's Girl | You know, it's hard to look for them. "Gay Gary the Fairy!" they laughed, and one flicked his cigarette at him. The quiet ones, in the back with all the distractions. He ran off, to cry. I timed my footsteps with his sobs.
"Huh! Huh! Huh!" he gulped, and I put my hand up, to the bark. Not the wolf, the snake. Curling my nails in to scratch the bark, and flattening them to pop the second knuckle. "Uh wh huh uh!"
"HehuhahA!" I chuckled with him. Okay, a little wolf came out. Maybe one of those Chinese pug-dragons, like in Neverending Story. The Yin/Yang of snakes. "Oohh!" I came around, and hugged him. Had to bring my knees up to get my back down the tree, so my skirt flipped over. "What happened?" I petted his wet cheek, "Did someone hurt your feelings?"
"Ih?" He scrambled back, "Uh!" It felt tight in my chest, coiling, and snapping to get out. "Uh huh?" He sobbed. I giggled. "I'm not, Gg,"
"Gay?" I got up, "Good." Bent over, dried his eyes, kissed his cheek, and licked my lips. He looked up from the deep open neck of my blouse, crawled away, and ran when he got his feet under him. I huffed, and puffed, and slipped my backpack off of my shoulder. Oh, and remembered to lap the salty clamminess from my palm. They otherwise taste nothing like sweat.
I slipped the spaghetti straps off, and hooked the skirt with my thumbs. Pants, Lycra, "Hate these damned things," t-shirt. On second thought, I held them out, slipped my panties off, and dropped them on the backpack. When I was dressed, I stuffed in the wig, combed my bangs out, over my eyes, and pulled on a ballcap. ZziziP! "Heha!" I grunted.
It washed over me, and I pulled out my phone: >Contacts, V >Bert. [Call]v[MSG] [GPS]
"Hehah!" [Hey] flashed up, so I clicked it, "Wher'yat?" A little out of breath, but it caught it on the second word.
<Send]... "Cummon!" I jammed my hand in and out of my fly. "Fuck!" I'm real hard, hot, and wet. Question is, what do I want to do to him? I kind of have to pee, but I can hold it.
[Not far, actually.]
"Uh!" Good!I giggle a little.
Sure, I peed with it, and it got hard before, but I never peed different colors before. It came out of my penis, get it? I'm not very good at telling jokes.
Nobody's outside, but. "UGH!" She hits me right over my belly, and I can't take a breath. I'm back in the bathroom, but it's backwards, and there are two stalls, and sinks, and no urinals.
"Hush." She holds a finger up, over her lips. The girl from the woods, or it's her face, but not her hair. And she changed, navy sweater vest, where's St. Agnes? "Remember me?"
"Ah," I croaked. What did she hit me with, she had both my arms up, holding mine, and she's shorter than me. I look down, she's wearing thick clunky heels.
"Gary," she laughed, "Got that. I'm Vinny."
"What's that short for?"
"Virginia." She rolled her eyes, "You wanna beat around the bush, or you wanna get off?"
"Uh," I backed up.
"Handicap stall," she waved her hands, and her skirt flopped.
"Mh?" her hand went over my mouth but the door flopped real loud. She reached back, and pushed it shut with another loud slam. It was, just like him. Vinny. Right, a little shorter than me, but her legs against my butt, almost bending me over by the scruff of my neck, and rubbing me off. Yeah, just like that, she didn't even open up my pants.
"Mmph!" She moved her fingers, and stuck her tongue in my mouth.
"Mh?" She stuck her hand in, and I closed my eyes. She was him, she fooled me. But what kind of girl finds a boy, and does all that to them? Why didn't mom ever read me that story?
"Nhn!" She bent over, and put her knee up between my legs, she didn't hit me, but then she did it again with her other. "Open up."
"Huh?"
"Wider," she stuck her fingers out, but they were white, and had cotton stretched over them.
"Say ahhhh..."
"Ah! What?" I bit her, and she pulled her fingers out.
"DON'T!" she smacked me, "Make me hurt you," and her hand was tight in my pants. Her nails felt rough, and sharp.
"Nh!" my chin tightened.
"Yeah," she rubbed it in, "Cry for me, baby." She licked my eyes.
"Mmph!" She had bad breath.
The door slammed, twice, and she was gone. I wasn't hard anymore, and I didn't have to pee, so I pulled out her underwear, and left the girls' room. I couldn't stop crying.
I glance over at the CD player. Get up on the bridge, crest the top, "Hn!"
Coast...
"Hmh." Make it sound like "Gary." The gayest name ever, alliteration, and rhyme is pretty advanced for middle-schoolers. "Nheha!" Finally! Uh! Now I can think.
What do I want to do with him? Tighty-whities, really? You know I never wore a pair before. I wonder what size? I could steal a pair, sniff them, for yellow spots. I scooted down in the seat. Damn manual, got to another hill. Try and keep it on the road, Nancy. (Callahan.) Of course they don't mind me curling up on Maud's couch, watching Netflix. That Yellow Bastard (F. Miller) Ew, before he turned into that yellow bastard. Sulphur?
He likes to hear them scream, but I'd rather see him try. Stuff these panties in there, good, and soaked. I'd wipe the seats, or wash the seat-cover if I wet them. "Hn!" Coast!..
"Yeah," gag him, and drink his tears. I don't know why, it's not like I can taste his humiliation, but I can make him cry. Right, light the butt, Then roll down the window. Push the lighter, there's some in here, so I put my pack away. God, I'm so ADD, but imagine him choking back his sobs around my pissy panties. Should've took them off before I got in, I knew I needed to think! Organization is just so not my thing, but I can fantasize. Long enough to get it perfect, make it beautiful, and build up to the biggest payoff ever.
Rape Him. "Nh!" I don't guess I ever really dried out. Fucking clutch. FAP! "Nuh! Hn," do I have to tie him down? Bert says he's starting to build enough trust to try it, but 'not with any sharps in the room'. "Ngh!" Yeah, nice long sharp claw of a knife. Kerambit, if I can find a way to order it, without getting caught. Wish I could get the Emerson, it looks vicious, but I guess I can settle for the little cricket. (KRKT Ringer II, concave edge.) I never picked one up, slipped my fingers into the little knuckle rings with a couple free for fucking. "Nyeah!" Cut his tighty-whities off with scissors then, shears if I can find some. Hey, did Ruth leave any tools in here?
Pull over, twist around to feel around between the seats. Behind the big box there was a little wooden handle, a little craft knife with a curved edge, and a flat back. Filthy, beat up, and splintery with little white blobs like cum hardened to half pearls. Wax? Some of those spring things to load her little Wournos special 4 at a time, but no ammo. She carried it up the hill of course, what it's for.
"Uh!" Shake the wheel, "Rrrh!" Strangle it. Yeah, dig my thumbs into the flabby flesh, watch his fat face darken and swell with blood, his tongue out, and watch him die. Fingers feeling his pulse. "Hnh!" Whew, almost lost it. Dig my fingers in.
TAP! Jump. "You all right in there?" No flashlight, I fixed my skirt, and underwear.
"Yeahawh!" I rolled down the window, and twisted my fist in front of my mouth. "Sorry, just real sleepy." Definitely not a cop. Tuck the wooden handle under my thigh, and check the time. "I'm awake," I blink, "Now. Thanks!"
"Get home safe."
"You too." I could have spilled his guts right over the window. But that would ruin everything. No, don't kill. The dead don't suffer, and I want my victims to remember.
I can't do it. I just can't fucking do it. The whole reassurance fantasy? It's a great Fantasy, not a great plan. Too Organized. Got that. It's so fucking Maddening, resisting the urge to just dive through the window, and Ravish him, he's so pathetic, he doesn't even do anything sexy. Finally he takes off his clothes, turns off the light, and goes in the bathroom. I muffle a giggle, and flip off my Pyramid.
Fat fucking piglette with her haunches waggling. Ruth with her Arkensaw Toothpick. Holding it up proud, the dead possum hanging from it. Hand thrown, it would burst through this window and shatter it to razor sharp shivers. "Patience." ~Ruth. She's right, that Dune book is pretty awesome. All the movies she saw as a kid, whenever one of them had a book, she went back, and read them. She's a Reverend Mother, "Of sorts." The junkyard dog hippy trippy teeny bopper kind, I didn't get to them yet.
Yawn, Pyramids. Taste like shit, but I found my brand. (L&M) Cheap, too. Fucking window finally popped. Those twisty curved ones, I think she calls it a Cam? Not turned all the way, but it took some wiggling. "Hehahah!" Is that steam? Listen to the shower, no singing. Listen to it creeping across the dirty clothes, some underwear, none of it mine. I already got a dirty pair at home. Filthy, all ready, I shrug, and pick up a clean pair. No need to fire up the washer downstairs, I tuck it in my bag. Wonder if I can get a?
The water stops, and I flatten back against the wall. Shower curtain's so Psycho (Hitchcock) and I decide not to wait for him to dry off. "Heha!" He looks up.
"Mh!" Tries to bite my hand, but I get him back to the tub, push him down in it without making too much noise. "RWHHH!" Not sure if "Why, or Rape? But I'll take it.
"Don't make me hurt you," he's naked, but his wet skin is still so young, and smooth, and I never had a boy before. Men, girls, but after figuring out that I couldn't get them to work I gave that up in grade school. But this was a Boy, a big baby that could get a hardon, and cum. Or cry, whichever. He relaxed, quit fighting, and I let go of his arms. "A a ahH!" I pulled out the clean panties. He opened his mouth, "There, children should be seen, but not heard."
I could watch him grow, but he was like putty in my hands. Or wax, whenever Ruth gets busy in her studio with the heat gun, and the hot wire. I wouldn't dream of getting violent in there, she'd destroy me. Anyway, I can mold him into whatever I want, so let's see what this fantasy does to him. "nh!" Maybe a liter, and a half is too much Mtn Dew, but they make liters too. "Ooh!" Boing! I bounce it like one of those door spring things in an old lady house, and giggle. "Nh!"
It coils deep within me, as I sink down, slipping my knees up under my skirt to drape over my legs, and sit on it. It presses the cotton between to soak, and spread from that spot, and well around him, seeping through to his fat little tummy. Sub-belly, like a pubis mons, but on a fat kid.
"Coast..."
Now I can think:
"You're weird," he looks up, and nod.
"You ever see a girl play with herself?" He shook his head. "Come on" I picked up his hand, and helped him off the wall of the tub-stall. "Uh! You're heavy."
"Sorry." I grinned, and got another head rush. Now, let's see what we have here. I pulled him back to his bedroom...
I all happened so fast, and confusing. I didn't, it felt wrong all the dirty things she wanted to do to me, but when she laid back. On my bed, she took her clothes off. "You can play with yourself too," she scoffed. "Come on, it's fun. You want me to do it for you?" I didn't cry, but I wanted to. Why was this so scary? Way scarier than thinking about it. "Come on," she touched me, and pulled me down on the bed. "Getting some hairs down there, huh?" She grinned, and tickled me. "Good, you wanna be a man soon?" I nod, "Yes, but what kind of man do you want to be?"
"Uh?" I look around, "I."
"You get picked on, you like that? They call you,"
"I know," don't want to hear it again.
"Like this," she pushes my fingers in her. "Mh!" Bites her lips. "No, you're not gay."
"Uh!"She pinched it pretty hard. "Oh, what about you?
"Mh?" I thought about her.
"You're?" I don't even know what question to ask.
"Complicated," she sighs. "Psycho, really. You picked up on that?" She nods, once, "Hm. Normal girls don't do this, so you got lucky."
"What happened to you?"
"Think you got enough to fuck me?" Another push, but she pulls it out to the end.
"Nh!"
"Shhh," she holds my lips, "Don't ruin the mood." She felt weird inside. Warm, and wet, but more like liquid boiling around me. Swirling inside, talking to me, and looking in my eyes until I went soft, and fell out. She laughs, 'dickless fucking' to herself, "Sorry, we'll work our way up to that," she smiled, and rubbed my tummy. "I guess I'm a nymphomaniac, but I don't get off every time, either." She said instead of "either." "So, it's okay. That felt good, while it lasted. Huh, it always starts like this, but it gets better. That's why you feel so weird right now, you don't know how to feel, so it doesn't register as pleasure, right? Mhm, it's always like this," she pushes my face down on her boobs, and pets it. "You'll learn."
Pump It Up {MT"f" NS...}
hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooonk!
Now I got to get up. "Do what to who's dog?" I parked on the side, anyone can just drive by, without blowing their horns like idiots.
WHK!
"Keep splitting." I patted her ass, "Don't work it all off, hun." Daniel San. A little wax-on/wax-off training to build up her triceps. Body by Ruth. Wrestling, or if you prefer, foreplay. I'd probably be pissed, and tired when I get back up from telling off these Yokels. It's a short scramble down, though. "Megha?" I stop at the top of the wash. Not entirely unlike a BMX ramp, up the side of the floodplane, far above the spring high-water point.
"Hey Ruth." She slapped my back. "Sorry," I reached back, and winced.
"Just an old bruise," worth it! The nice thing about lesbian rape-play is the loser generally gets off first. I don't try too hard, but you tend to find rocks that way with her throwing my weight around.
"Amber home?" She chucks her chin up the hill. I brush her hairline, the spiky ridge up front stiffened by some kind of product.
"Yeah," got out my keys, "Nice do." Unlock, 2 short blasts, 2 more.
"Nhihihn!" I shivered a little. Grabbed the spare key while I was in there, took it back around to the hidey hole. (So not gonna tell you.)
"What'd y'wanna see her about?"
"You know that fiction she wrote about our relationship?" She went back, and forth between her, and the slope. Uhuh? "Well, Maud's done making it legible, and we just need to sign off together for publishing. There might be some royalties to split,"
"Ah," I waved her off, "She'll be down in a minute." Lost me at Maud. Those who say they loved her would never dare, I broke that damned CD, she probably already replaced it. "There she is."
"Hey!" big grin. I cleared the area.
"Now leave me outta this," wanted to pop some corn. Looks like about 20-30', ottado.
"Sup?" sidestep, she paces, shoulder to her, fist low. Just walks around her.
"Oh," she laughs, "You bowin' up?"
"Narcissist."
"Nah, that would be a delusion," she followed low, arms up, hands open to grab anything.
"You ain't gonna catch her!" I yell, and check the cooler. Thanks Meg, for taking it away from my pickup.
"Come at me bro!"
"Coward,"
"Rapist,"
"Victim!"
My eyebrow went up, Amber charged, low, but her feet a blur, but Megs just sidestepped, giggling, twirled behind her, and skipped off. "Nhihihih!" Floated back to me, but she skipped side to side, while Amber tried to turn, and smacked the back of her neck. "What's wrong, Janet?" Swat! "Can't you face me?"
"HrRH!" she dropped, and rolled back, swinging her heels in together about waist height, but nowhere near fast enough to wrap, hook, and slam her face first like a rat-trap. Not sure what that move's called, but I like rat-trap.
"Nhnhnhn!" No more taunts, the rest of the fight, but if I could tell how much it was pissing her off.
"Hahahah!" I picked up my team Meghan pompoms, I can patch her up later. Honestly, it was starting to get stale in the sack, so maybe this would liven it up again? "Showoff!"
Amber jumped back up to her feet, but Megs stopped bouncing, planted her foot sideways, and stepped in. She just pushed her, but that looked like almost 10' of extension, and I noticed a straight line from her ankle to wrist. She kept rolling, finally to her feet, but She stepped in, scissored Her legs, and literally kicked her ass.
"You ain't gettin away from her, neither!" I cupped my hands. Sure enough, Evasion isn't really Amber's style, she likes to bait, switch, and catch you off-guard. Kind of fun, wondering where she is, right before she pounces, but she's really got little in the way of defense.
And she gives up. As soon as she feels hopeless, and helpless, she just curls up in a ball, and locks up. Doesn't even cry, blacks out, and forgets it ever happened. I'll just bet that's why she never loses, just ask her!
"Hehuhah!" I go to break it up, but Meghan just stops, walk back, backwards, catching her breath. I back up too, getting out my keys. "HehuhahAH!"
"Nhihihihn!" She doesn't cover, look away, slouch, or hide behind her eyes. And it's dazzling. She was stunning when she felt like shit, but now, I felt faint.
I pulled out my keys. "Wanna lift?"
She nodded, I looked back, and saw her Biketta in the back. Somehow missed that before when I stashed the key. "Catharsis," she sounded confident too. "Maud says there's 2 kinds of emotional release, generally: Erotic, and Cathartic."
"Mhm?" We paused while I started up the motor, and pulled the floor shifter in Reverse. The C-6 picked it up, lowest gear I got, with a good winch it'd climb a wall. "Revenge!" I turned back, and put my hand on the top of her seat.
"Nhihihih!"
"You want to make it a double when we get back?"
She nodded, "Nah'mgood."
"What I miss?"
"I'm with Larry now." My eyebrow went up. "He forgives you," she patted my shoulder, "He understands what you went through, and while that doesn't excuse it."
"He can tell me that."
"No." I looked over, "Never gonna happen."
She glared. "Huha!" Oh honey, I've gotten the stink eye of God, and withstood it. "Aright!" A little territorial. "That's fine."
"He told me about all the times you molested her, and him."
"I never touched Him,"
"What about when you made his Orthotic?"
"That wasn't sexual," I held up my hand, "Anatomical." Put it back on the wheel, she looked like she'd bite it. "Seriously, he's got practical issues for wearing a cup, that's Why I had to make it custom instead of ordering one out of the catalog."
"Huh." Nose breath, "All right, thanks. To be fair, you did a great job. I even like, and respect that..,"
"But?"
"That doesn't change the fact that you're a Child Molester."
"Watch it."
"No, you watch it, unless you want to go ahead and get registered. You know I looked up the Law." {Eponymus, her name's not really Meghan, either.} "Right? Well, if I have to report you, then all this." We'd stopped at the gate a while ago, I even cut the motor for the coast back down. "You'd have to move, back to a real address, not to mention any charges, convictions, sentence, registration?.."
"All right!" Got it. "How is he?" Amber told me why not just kill them: There's no statute of limitation on murder. Her gender might even bump it up to hate-crime, is this a Death-row state?
"Happy," she sighed, "Without you."
You Belong to Me {MF NS Rape.}
"Hey 'Burt." I look up, "Have a seat." Needlessly, he'd already flopped onto the Bauhaus loveseat.
"Hehah!" He nodded, "~Ernie."
I hit a random track on my CD player. "Hm, upbeat!" I laughed with him. "What's this about?"
"Who," he shook his head, "You think Amber might be Multiple Personality Disorder?"
"DID, then realized all the masks are affected." To conceal herself from everyone else. So, I can't tell what she really is inside.
"Well now, she's naming them." Oh? He nodded, "Vic's a boy, well I think that's the transvestite aspect. Jeans, and panties, tits taped down."
"Victim Rehearsal." Isn't actually as clever with her aliases.
"The abusive one is Virginia. Huhah!" Irony. "Power Assertive-to-Anger Retaliator breakdown. Charm, then Humilate."
"So she switches?"
"Not in front of me, she dresses up to change, but she can do it quick. I think she's practicing Organization, which she sucks at. It's creeping into her Plantacies, though. Evidence Denial..."
"She's training to be a serial rapist." Not a question, hadn't been before she upgraded from Meghan.. Higher risk, building confidence, though typically victims get younger as that type ages. Like Ruth," I pinched my nose, and shook my head. Took 'a moment.'
"I don't think that's her motive, feels more like her Means. To what end, I haven't figured out yet."
Little Triggers {FMit Chap NS.}
I pulled up, dropped it in reverse, and released the clutch to a stall. Almost burned out anyway, no need to put it off... "Huh!" I got out, and the kids were already piling over the sides. Shorts, and shirts, and shit pealing off.
Amber handed me a beer when I climbed over. "Hey, Megha!" She turned, and glared back. "Wanna spar?" Dropped from the tailgate, feet shoulder-width apart, shoulders spread like Sarah Connor in a wife-beater. (Judgement Day) Mega set down her bookbag. I popped the top, and sat on the edge of the roof.
"Don't let her catch you," then it's over, "Mega!" She nods, sidestepping, then dropping a foot behind it.Perpendicular, a half pace to step out, toes pointed like a dancer, and lunge forward. Too slow, linear strikes with lateral footwork, and monster reach.
"Hehah!" She snatches at it, pulling back too fast, and hops back. Mega swings her back foot around behind her and shifts her weight to it, zagging back out of charging range, then sidesteps the inevitable, slapping her flailing arm away. Still too impulsive, I've got mass on her, but she could really twist your arm. But she can't catch Mega, as long as she's evading and circling. She drops out her back knee, rolls back, pushes, and jumps out, arms snapping straight behind her. "nH!" Diving feet first into the water. Heartbreaking to watch.
"Think fast!" I toss her a beer and take a sip. It's just a beer, I got plenty of support around me, and didn't bring anything harder. Bert pulled another off the rings, the other 3 wouldn't be enough to get me drunk anyway. I burped. No way I'm driving all the way back up to get more, I killed it, bounced it off the tailgate, jumped down, and ran. "Cannonball!" I blew them out of the water.
This ain't group therapy. Or talk therapy, whatever, not my scene. Not a singles club, neither. "Hate to have broken her heart," I sigh, and let myself feel that regret, but better to've gotten it over with. She was losing her objectivity, and finally wrapping her head around abusive mindsets might've caused a minor breakdown. Or a moderate one, probably more severe if I stayed. I hummed, our song. {Elvis Costello - Sweet Pear (Mighty Like a Rose.)}
"Those who say they loved you would never dare..."
"Hm?"
"Gimme a hand outta her'," she pushed up and out. "Uh," I pulled up to a knee. "Damn bank." Starting to erode a little, but downstream from so many metropolitan areas, I'm not too concerned for this particular watershed. "That a container ship?" I shade my eyes. "Tanker." Looks like. Mega shrugs. No binoculars, or waving I can see. Locking up, I handed out gear.
Not a singles club neither, more of a private party. Invite only, my VIPs. I gathered their shoulders ToGetHer and passed around hugs. Amber was still giggling and shivering a little. "You satisfied?" I pulled her hand off and around his back. She shook her head and frowned in frustration. Tension, it's not good for her. She can't think. "Huh, well you wanna take a run at momma bear?" I chuckle and push her back. She giggles and chases me, I feel like a kid again.
Who knew, playing slap and tickle with such a perverted little girl could be so fun? Not so little, she's getting faster, making me feel older. "Yegatme," I rolled back giggling, and she pounced. "Hehah!" I don't know what I did wrong to deserve this, but I plan to keep doing it!
She slicks his wet hair back and puts on some shades. "Vinny?"
He shakes his head, jaw hard, "Vic."
"New Persona?" She brightens up, nods. "Aggro!"
The other kids start up the trail, arm and arm. Shoulders and waist, backpack and hip-packs. Too bad Larry doesn't want to come down here. "Huh," him and Meghan. They're gay and got lucky enough to find someone else to be gay with. I don't see them together enough, but I've got this evil little thing in my arms, "Emotional release?"
"Not yet," she grins.
"Wheell!i!i!" sigh theatrically, and roll my eyes, "if I'm gonna get you off then I better get started." I joke, she laughs. She gets it, I'm a sarcastic bitch, and she shares my sense of humor. I try to avoid anything dangerous or abusive, and think too much about the definitions. Hard little body, shame about the chimp tits, but she(*) doesn't care about them either. (*capitalizing the He in her.) Honestly, it's hard to keep track of everything up there. Send 'em back up to Dr. Maud to patch 'em up as needed, but keep 'em out of trouble.
No victims 'round here. I held up a finger, and she quivered against it. "Spank me," she rolls over breathlessly, and I make a lap for her. Like a redheaded stepchild. "Uh!" Right through the gap in her thighs. Behind the truck, of course. Some semblance of modesty. Gracious! Cover my shit-eating grin, and wait for her expect' FAP! "Uhn!" 'ation to wear off.
"You been bad today?" Fap, "COUNT 'em!"
"Nh," she whimpers, "Three? Nuhuh! Four?" Let me pick off a switch, or maybe go get my ruler. Yeah, "Aigh!" Nasty Habit. "Five? WhHm. NhnHhHM." I hold her. Pat her back, then let my hand slip down the base of it, under her butt. Between her legs. "Hn!"
I sigh back and roll my i!i!s. "So Vinny and Vic, should I expect a Vidi? Which one's Blue Steel, and which one's Magnum?" Her shoulders jump, laughing, and her cervix pops, a little. She shrugs. False alarms, she's getting very good at faking them, all those muscles in those places guys don't have. No Ladies here, neither. (See rule #1.)
"Vedee'?"
"...Vini, Vidi, Vicci." ~Augustus Caesar. "What're they teaching you kids in school these days?"
"Hn!" She wasn't listening. Too bad I can't pinch her like Meghan and Larry.
"Huh," and I went and fucked it up. Filthy child molester, now I was getting turned on. "You mind?" She shook her head and felt down to get busy. She's really rather pretty like this, with the masks peeled off, and just feeling. I reach up from her chest and run my knuckles over her cheek. Harder and tighter than when I met her, the hair's too dark, I can't pick out her highlights, except where they're growing out at the roots. "Hmh!" Bite my lip. Slippery little fingers. She doesn't have to shave for me, but she likes to. I feel little prickles under the side of my thumb. Tricky spot, to get all of them. Damp panties, I know it's just river water.
Sick little bitch. Is there nothing she won't try in her endless quest for fetishes? Splap! "Uh!" she jumped surprised, and tensed around my fingers. Hers went back to work. Can't multitask for shit, but it helps to distract her with something, "Myeah!" pant, "There," that, thus, and henceforth... "Nyeahuh!" Emotional release, good reliable way to kick off the fireworks. Don't stop now, Ruth.
"Yeah!" There, I grinned and relaxed. Caught my breath. She lit one for me too and fixed her underwear. Too bad Gloria threw out all her uniform stuff, I gave her one last playful swat.
Megha came down and grabbed her bike. (Bacchetta) down the frame, a long straight hydroformed oval of a beam between the cranks and the derailleur, with an idler pulley under her seat. Dropping it on its MTB tires, she dropped on and clipped up her helmet. "Hn!" Next to me, I handed her my keys. "Stay outta trouble," it ain't a B&B, neither. "Help me up," he reached down from the ramp. "Uh!" Damned back. No rest for the wicked, I caught my breath. "Got a cigarette?" He didn't let go my hand and lit it for me. "Thnks."
Good hike. "You mind?"
"Nah, I'm a'ight." Smoke blew in my eye. The wind caught it, I swear! "I got this," I kissed the back of his hand. WTF, I ain't gettin' no younger.
"I didn't bring any,"
"Gaskets?" I laughed. "Fuck it, you been outside of Group?" It's complicated. "We all got our shots, and tests." Very complicated. {~D. Who - "Blink."}
"What about?"
"Huhah!" Need another beer, damn it. "I had them scoop all that out while they're in there." Figured they're wrist deep anyway.
"Sexy!" he laughed.
"Amber?"
"You can't cheat on her," I waved it off. He knows that, "C'mere." Grab his belt.
"Mh?" I blink, shake my head, and sit up. Hmm, I'm no good at Dream Interpretation, but it's getting light, and Amber's side of the tent was empty. Or whatever she's calling herself now. Better right this down, little trigger rolls out with the notebook and pencil. Probably just a fantasy anyway, all the kids together, swinging, possibility for an orgy. I get on top of the sleeping bags so I don't soak through the plastic side. Yeah, that would be hot. Amber, Bert, Mega, Maud. "Huh!" ... Don't need any lube, so I wrap little trigger. Don't want any splinters, nothing sexy about that.
Huh, must've molested me in my sleep, again. Got to the point I don't always even wake up, just got off and had fucked up wet dreams. Good ones, I'll admit...
No Action {FT NS... ????}
"Huh?" Sit up and grab my phone. [9:27]
[Ruth] ?
"Uh!" i!i! Take a moment. "Really?"
"Wait," didn't sound like she'd been crying, "Good morning."
"Implausible," Rub my eyes, grab my glasses. "This better be good."
"Amber's getting, huh!"
"Escalating?" Not sure where that came from.
"Yeah, not more violently." I heard a spinal pop, "Uh, thank goodness."
"Escalating how?"
"Watersports, mostly. And I don't mean like Mega might mean it. How is she?"
"Hamb'r?" I yawned and hit the electric kettle. Robe tied, I grabbed my apron. "Hmh," Sausage!
"Right, I think I got her primary fantasy out of her." She lies.
"Rape." Drop the crumbles in an egg pan. "This isn't news."
"Right, but what about the victims?"
"Good point," mark it up so it doesn't drip. "Need eggs."
"We're out of town, now. Oh, she stole my truck this morning, not sure whether to report it, yet."
"Victimology?"
"Men." Nod, to myself. Mhm? "Anger Retaliator?"
"You're the shrink, Idafuckin know."
"Right, but you're a Retaliator, you think she's motivated like you?" Flip. "I've quit the practice, my objectivity's shattered, and." Burt. I could probably be brought up on charges, if he reported me to the right people. "I've got to open up the Dojo, later."
"I mean we're gone, don't worry about where, but look for Victims anyway. You still going to group?"
"Maybe the next one," sigh and drop the pan in the sink. Press out some coffee and get the big soup mug."I don't think she was exclusive, but I'd bet pissing play, panties, and a male victim in there somewhere. Just a heads up."
"Thanks," I said sincerely.
"Knowing is half the battle."
Hand In Hand {?F Anal Rape}
"Huh?" She stood up, stuffing something in a bag.
"We're moving."
"What happened?" I started grabbing packed stuff and stacking it by the trail.
"I was raped," she shrugged, and gathered poles. "Someone knows we're here." Like she had just said it had rained, the latter statement had more fear in it.
"Wait, back up." I shook my head, "WHAT!" Generator. "Who?"
"That's what's got me," she said. She sat down and started playing pickup sticks with shock-cords. "I went through the list of people who even know where this is, and nobody matches."
"Physically?" I sat down.
"Not big or strong enough for Burt, or even Meghan. About as tall as me, at least at the hips, hard-bodied."
"Male."
"Yeah!" She looked very red-faced as she stuffed them in the sleeve and handed them over. "Blitz attack, I don't know what he hit me with," she said, rubbing up under her hair. "I never saw him. He didn't say anything, but it felt like Revenge. He bagged my head and bent me over." She looked at the log bench. "Huh, 2 fingers" m|L "Until he got hard, dry anal. Huh, pulled out and re-entered until I was too loose to pop. I don't think he got off, but I felt him slip in a rubber. Took it with him. Before I got the hood off, he ran down the trail and hopped on a bike. I found his track in the sand wash, or I think I did. BMX knobbies."
She rubbed her arms, not my fresh thumb prints on the inside of the biceps, fingers around the back. "When was this?"
There were some signs of a struggle, the kitchen was a wreck. Or she had melted down, probably a good fit of rage. "Couple hours," she shrugged. Glad I missed it.
"Two, three," I popped fingers out over the loads to run down to the truck. "The gate's locked," I said, shouldn't need the trailer. "Think he's one of yours?"
"The only one it could be," she shook her head, "Didn't know where I lived, and doesn't have the balls." She stood up, twisting on her toes to uncross her legs. "He's fatter too." She looked up, remembering.
"Gayle" {MT TV Drag NS}
"Hey, Larry."
I looked away, realizing he doesn't know me like this. "Teha, Gary!?"
"Or Gayle."
"Wow," he took my hands and held them out. Backing up, looking down, about my height.
"You know Virginia?"
"The only one I've heard of," she shook her head, "Is an alias for. Wait, why are you in drag?"
"About this tall, Harkonnen blonde hair."
"HINN!" He covered his mouth, "Yeah, that's Amber all right."
"Who?" It doesn't even look like Amber.
"My girlfriend's ex." He rubbed his nose, and his t-shirt squished over his boobs? "It's complicated, how do you know her?"
"She was going to meet me. Actually, I haven't seen her in a few days." Almost a week.
"Did you check the campsite? Ruth's, down the river, on the service road for the gorge national park?" I kept shaking my head. "You got a bike?" He picked up the handlebars.
"Hop on." He picked it up and turned it around, "The pegs?" I stood up, "Hang onto my shoulders." I had to close my eyes most of the way, but we stopped a long way down. "Wait here." He ducked under the gate, got on, ducking real low, then turned and flew up the side further down.
I waited, over and over in the bathroom. I wish she had taken me home once, she knew where I lived, of course, broke in at night, or when I was in the bath, waited for me when I got home from school, but she never came back to the restroom. "Hm," He came back down fast and started pedaling. A blur at first, then slower and slower until he had to hop off and walk it. I walked down to meet him.
"Nothing but the statue. Heard about it," he shrugged, "Never seen it. Glad she finished it."
"You talk to yourself too?"
"Am, Virginia?"
"Or Ginny, Ginger, Vinny..."
"Right," he reached over the gate, grabbed the seat, hopped over. Turned sideways and flipped it up on the front wheel. "Okay, what'd she do to you?"
"I don't know," I thought, "Is there words?"
"Sexualize, humiliate, molest, rape..." I just kept nodding. He stuck his thumb out, but the car turned and drove up the road. "Fantasies? What fantasies?"
"Uh," I looked up, "Pissy sissy? She calls it a 'puerile micturition fetish' but,"
"She projects it on you?" Yeah? "Forced feminization," mostly to himself, "You smoke?" No, "Weed?"
"Uh uh?"
"Don't start, nasty habits. Huh," He drops his thumb and bike back on the wheels. A truck pulls up. "Help me throw this in back," I get it over the side.
"How far?"
"Anywhere back in town," I tried to climb up the tire like he did, but the skirt didn't help. He closes the window. "What should I call you?" He curled up the last two fingers in his lap.
"Oh, Gary or Gayle is fine."
"Are you?"
"Oh no, this is just for the scene, role-play? Yeah, she likes doing all these characters."
"Gayle's a bottom?" I shook my head, "Top?" We have to duck down, out of the wind when we start speeding up. I take off my wig so it won't blow away.
"That's for Vic. Italian guy, one of her characters. He's the bottom."
"Anal?" Yeah, "Huh! Okay, how do you feel about all this abuse?"
"Oh, it's just play. She says it keeps her from going out and finding real victims. Oh, or Vicky, in the girl's room. The only way we can really pull off restrooms, she doesn't really ever look like a boy."
"So, it's always girl rapes man?" Yeah, "And you're okay with that?"
"Sure, it's not even realistic. I mean, a girl can't rape a man that way. I at least have to get turned on." Or it's bad, she's got a temper. I look down.
"You know what co-dependence is? Okay, it's like addictive behavior, but you habituate to abuse. I know what she said, but she lies. Get used to that, she doesn't want you to think it's abuse, or you're actually a victim so you'll report it. You want to talk to the cops?" He slaps the side twice, and we start slowing down. Slide open the window. "Anywhere in here."
He hops down, "Hand me the. Uh. Thanks, here." I take his hands, and my skirt flaps up like a parachute. "No," he holds his hands out, "Fuck. Of course her office is closed, it's not her office anymore." He walks his bike, "Here," pulls something out of a cargo pocket, "We have this sort of meeting." Folded sheet of paper, "For sexual disorders, and survivors."
"Oh," I just fold it again and try to stick it in my back pocket. "Right."
"Come on, you know what Victim Rehearsal is?" I shake my head. "Back here, how long's this been going on?"
"Couple years," I shrug.
"Really?" I think, summer before last, so I nod. "Hmph!" Both hands down his face. "You mind," he backed me into a corner, "Showing me what she did? Just go through the motions, pretend I'm her."
"Who?"
"Oh," he thinks back, "Vic, is it? Hehah!"
"He laughs just like that!"
"I know."
Little Triggers {T/v Mict Drag Fetish.}
I knew I shouldn't have done that, "Does she molest you?" Now they're on the run!
She stepped in, can't really get the posture right. Behind the Theater that wouldn't even start to open for a couple hours. "No, like her." Bars up. He can't quite do her, not enough confidence. Hesitates, I take his hands by the wrists and put them on my belt. Not even traffic yet, between the lunch and commuter rushes. He is a fence, a degree of separation between her and I. I don't know what a firewall is, but I imagine it's much alike. But I can look back, right at her, straight into her fantasies. Harkonnen hair, all right. Not Kwizach Haderach, so Mentat Assassin? Far too clever for her own good, she tries to hide and sucks at it. Yeah, Piter. Red lipstick.
I kick them off and release as soon as his fingers are back. "Nh!" I pull his hand back from the wrist. Thin and a little flabby, it's like a giant penis, but with 2 bones in it! "HINN!" It runs down the inside of the cup and trickles down my legs.
"Yeah, just like that."
"She doesn't have, hH?" He feels me, maybe not my pulse in him, like I do, through my wet crotch, against the inner cup of my orthotic. "Does she go Thatch on you?"
"Yeah," that's what she calls it. I figure she dated Meghan, she can't not share hir cyberpunk fantasies... "Nh!" He squeezed his legs and twists, knees slightly bent under the skirt.
"You mind?" I reached down for the hem and slipped the orthotic out of the custom holder. "Mmh!" He's hard, of course. Boxers, under the woolen pleated skirt. Like a kilt, or schoolgirl skirt, plaid. Flannel?
"Ngh!" He grunts excitedly. Double, no triple crossdressing with the boxers. All right, whatever your fucking name is, you do have an artistic bent.
"NHIN!" It's cute, reminds me of Charley's. I know she uses that one, save it for later. 3 fingers, thumb alongside it. "How old are you?"
"14," whoa! "NHINEHAHA!"
"God!"
'uh huh huh huh!' I dropped my knees on my shorts and pulled up his skirt. Damned fly button.
"Hn, UH!" Okay, missed the first couple, got the rest. Spat it in the puddle, I really need a bottlecage. Forgot the damned rubber, again. Step over and pick up the handlebars.
"Oh, and a pack of smokes." The convenience store is around the corner.
...
"She doesn't suck me off."
"Yeah, kind of got out of character. I can't really do her, well," maybe once or twice.
"What are you?"
Complicated, "Huh!" very complicated, "Frame of reference. Hm, okay, I'm a princess becoming prince fucking charming. Context will have to wait. Just, nod and shake your head: Bondage? Pain? Anger? Power? Humiliation?" Big yup! Take a drag, "Verbal abuse, piss sissification, incest?"No, 'Good, uh...' Crossdressing assumed. Processing... 'Where'd you meet?'
'Over by the school. Freshman.'
'Hop on,' I held the tail for him, 'Where can I drop you?' Flip the butt onto pavement.
'There's good.'
Victim Rehearsal. Obviously 'Bert. That's her disguise hanging on like a backpack, my cargo pockets flap lightly. I take another sip so it doesn't slop out of the bottle with the lid off any more. Get the handlebar again before I have to make the turn, and climb.
'Hop off,' I dismounted, and pushed. 'If you could pick her favorite, how's that go?'
'In the men's room, Vic at the urinal, from behind. There's one up behind the gas station with a lock on the door. When she finds his panties, she tells him what a sissy he is until he starts crying, then she calls him baby, and licks his tears. When he gets hard, she humps his back and jerks him off. She catches it, and drops his pants. Then she calls him a faggot and fingers his butt. Down on the floor, she pisses on his face, and makes him eat her out.
Or Gayle is the same, but I put my skirt up, and reach around to finger her. Just up her butt, no in the crack, through my panties, if I can pee, that's great. Bent over the toilet, there's no stall, but there's handicap bars. Lots of spanking, and if it's Ginny then slut shaming instead of gay. You know, weak bitch, little whore, she makes me talk dirty. I don't mind, but she told me what all to say. Not like a script, I learned what turns her on.'
'What about fucking?'
'Not yet. I mean, you mean me inside her? No, she calls it frottribado, she likes rubbing together. With her cunt, or between her legs, too.'
'Ginger?'
'Oh, that's just her.'
'Face?'
He nods. 'She's real flirty, but she's not one of the fantasies. Like Virginia, I can't tell them apart, they both answer to 'Ginny.' Do you know what's wrong with her?'
'She's not D.I.D,' Throw my leg over, 'Sorry, Multiple Personality. Hop on.' It's downhill from here. 'You got anywhere to be?'
Sigh. Sounds like a cast of characters for different people. Rotating cast, aside when she's done with them, move on. She's an actress, and how could anyone be more obvious lying than "Amber." Full headslap, catch the grip before it wobbles. That's how she lied to us, she 'lied' to us. "Fuck!" I can call her down for this.
Mega {MmT Bukk.}
Carry up Babe, hanging the sixer low. Bump the door with my toe. "Hey," drop them on the counter, and carry it out to the patio. "Who're?"
That's not Larry, wearing his clothes. Anglo for one.
"Gary," he gets up.
"Hi, where's Larry?"
"Went to see Maud," he looked uphill.
"Who's this?"
"Janet's other victim over the last couple years."
Unclip my hip pouches, and sling them in the corner. "Mhm?" Look over, "What'd"
"Uh," where to start, "Cross dressing, pissy play, and rape fantasy?"
"She raped him, repeatedly."
"Huh!" roll my eyes, and reach for the lampshade. Twist my hand, crosslegged beside the couch.
"In bathrooms, mostly, we got it all written down. Power Assertive, and Reassurance, Anger Retaliation, but not Exitation." Not a sadist?
"That's new." Pass it up.
"Larry found him, or."
"She told me he knew her."
"Manipulative though," that's pretty wicked. "I remember you, vaguely. 8th grade?"
"Freshman," he looked down, "I skipped," blushed. Yeah, she did a number on him!
"Sexuality?"
"Not there yet," Huey held up a hand.
"Welp!" No present like the time, "Let me get out of these work clothes." Waitress dress, uniform, hot, and impregnated with grease. That's why, I graduated before he moved to my school. I reached to pull my bag out from under the futon, and undid a button.
"I've seen you." I nod. I don't even try to hide any more. Huey rubbed my shoulders.
"How's your day?" I looked back, showed him I needed some sort of release.
"You like what you see?" I reached back, fingerspelled.
B. U. K, K. A. K. E.
"You ever been in a circle jerk?" he felt down, and pinched at my bra clasp.
"I've heard about it."
"Porn?"
He nods back to me. "Well, this' like at, only we don't need porn."
"Uh!" They dropped together, and Hubert stood up behind me. He looked down at Huey jr., then me, then the twins. I'd keep the undershorts on for this.
"You just have to jerk off," I leaned back, and let my dress slip down my arms, then lifted off my bra, and set it aside.
"I heard you're gay."
"You too." I nodded.
"Well yeah, but that was a couple years ago."
"I'm not, you know?"
"Do you?" I chuck my head, "You mind?" He didn't step far enough back, so I caught the top of his shorts, and pulled him in. "Whad'we we got here?" I wondered how small it was soft. "Hihinm!" He's right, it's like a worm, winking. "Have a seat," I swung him over by the flaps of his pants to the corner of the couch, and pulled them off. He did so I could pull them off with his shoes. "It's okay, relax. Nhihihn, you sure aren't gay!" He smiles, "Like this?" I push his fingertips up with mine, flat out front, up, and down. Slipping between my fingers. Palm his balls, gently, "Nh!" Cute nod.
Pudgy, not as fat as Ruth, I run his shirt up. "NhHhn!" Training bra? Right, the mentioned that. "Transvestite?"
"I like it," enough chest fat to puff them out, but stretched to the sides. Not cups, but there's a seam up the middle, nowhere near his nipples. I felt out, and down to one. "Oh!" Boyish sigh. I pinch his dicky, and pull to run my fingertips under the tiny piss ridge. Compared to Burt, it doesn't, only the second I'd seen this close.
"SMWP." He doesn't hunch, so I open it's eye, and kiss that. Salty, I forget exactly how tears taste, but this is different. Not as salty, a little stronger than sweat. Lick it around real good, "swuip!"
"Huh!" there's a hunch, and a sub-hunch when the skin slips wetly over it.
"Go on," I straighten up, and reach down to my chest. Uh, straightening up for work, and a brunch shift too. "Hand me a beer?" Huey wags back, and back again, peels one off.
"Second cumming," he warns me, it could be a little while. So, I scoot up, and lick him from balls to skin real quick, lean back, and watch. He grunts, and pinches his scrotum around his middle finger with his tips, keeps grinding into his palm.
"Hm!" Nod, and look around from the side. The skin's pulled back, especially at the top, and it crackles a little in his palm. I reach in my compression shorts, and palm my mons, pinching my finger between my lips. "Neat! Hn!" Lick my lips, and watch.
"HihH!" I grab his wrist, and pull him up. The first shot goes over my shoulder, but I aim him down, and close my eyes. Right on my cheekbone, but the next leaves a line down next to my nose, and sticks my bangs together.
"Hn!" out my nose, I tilt up, and some dribbles down my lips. Tight, I want to lick him, but I don't know where all he's been, and what I do know isn't reassuring. "Hhm!" Not a whole lot, I have to wipe my eye,
'huhuh!' He's on his knees, so I bend down quick, to catch it on my neck, and chest, it runs down anyway.
"Nh!" I lean over, and grip the bottom of it, milk up to "Smp!" A little goes a long way, as long as I can taste some. I lean back, and he bends to clean off my neck, and chest. A little runs down to my tummy. He kisses me, so I can taste it in his mouth. "Help me up," he lifts my hands, and holds them to pull on. "Mh!" I scratch under my tit, where the strap line was still getting blood back into it. Pull the drain on the tub, and start the water. Wash my face in the sink, pull my bangs apart with my fingers.
Close the bathroom door, flex to pop out the definition, twist turn, pull off my pants. Hopefully Larry'll be home soon, but I should get off pretty quick. I have to pull it up, but I can get it to roll on my pubes in my palm. "Nh!"
[\] Bukkake. I'm going to count 2 loads for half.
Gary {CINm Solo Exhi.}
"See ya," Hubert left.
She came out in a towel, and dried her hair. "How many times you get off?" Threw it back in the bathroom.
"Two, today." Unbelievable, the kind of story I didn't even think to make up.
"Who else?" She reached out, "Can you hand me my bag?"
"I had sex with? Larry."
"Did he molest you? Hhnh!" Deepvoice, I never expect that sound to come out of her, "And Berty? Hubert, Huey, 'Bert, whatever."
Very hard to talk to. "No, we just talked, he explained a few things, I didn't know she was a rapist. Sorry," look down.
"It's okay, she raped me too." Naked, she just reached up, and pulled on a shirt. I didn't see anything hanging out, just some skin peaking between. "Oh," she reached down, and pulled up my shirt. "Have you heard?" She pulled herself open, with her fingers, and showed me. "I can get him out if you want to see."
"Who?"
"I have a micropenis. Hormones."
Can you take your shirt off? She ripples. "Why didn't she tell me about you?" She should've bragged.
Shrugs, "Compart, or secret. Hm, IDKnow how she thinks."
"Larry does," I think. "What did she do to you?"
"She destroyed my self-image, and took my virginity. Well, the big one, bygones." She was already blushing. "See?" She moved her hands.
"It looks like a little penis?"
"Penesse'." She corrected, "Hnhihn!" She stuck her thumb next to it, and made it bounce back, and forth. "I'm a semi-hermaphrodite."
"Huh," I looked up. I like her body, "Like Larry."
"Yeah, we're gay."
"If I was Larry, I'd be gay too."
"You like Larry, huh?" Nod. "What you guys do?"
"I think he called it rehearsal?"
"Victim Rehearsal?"
"Yeah, it didn't feel gay at all, or like Janet?" Okay, "Yeah, I remembered, and told him.Then when he brought me here, he talked to me and wrote it down, asking questions the whole time, until 'Bert came home. I guess he took over. He told me about Bukkake when you're in the bathroom. You guys are?"
"Complicated. Huh!" she blew her bangs and looked down. "You know what Ménage à trois means? Okay, Larry's my boyfriend, and we share Burt. Sort of. He's also going out with our ex-therapist, Larry's up there now probably still Vulcan Mind Melding with her."
"Her?"
"H. I. R," she signed, "Hir. That's most of it, you met Janet."
"What is she? Serial Rapist, I heard, but what does that mean? Does it even make sense?"
"Did she hurt you?"
"My butt, I don't like how she put her fingers up there, it hurt."
"She did it wrong. Huh, well what about the other stuff?"
"She made me feel bad."
"Emotional abuse, verbal." Didn't sound like a question. "CODA," looked down, "Uh, did you enjoy any of it?"
"I liked feeling her, and when she let me play the bad guy, I got to feel her get off. She was always so nice to me, sometimes, and she tried to do romantic things for me. She bought me stuff, or stole it. Yeah, she probably stole it. Underwear, I actually like the underwear, and you're just not going to put any clothes on?"
"I'm semi-nudist. I've been wearing that horrid uniform all day, do you mind?"
"Not at all, I could look at you all day."
"You like spooning?"
"What's that?" I shook my head.
Meghan {Im ...}
"Snh!" Was he crying? I blinked, shut my eyes again, and went on breathing. "Uhn uhn uhn uhn!" He sobbed. Probably a nightmare, I just hugged him, hoping that was right. Not enough information, we could talk when he was done, patience... "Sorry, Snh!"
"Nightmare?" Tell us about it Janet. (Magenta/Columbia)
"Nhun?"
"You want to talk?"
"Uh uh."
"Are you turned on?" I didn't feel for it.
"Uh huh?"
"Tell me when it feels wrong," I reached over my head and opened the drawer in the side table. "Lay back," I scooted out and felt down his tummy. He's not that fat, not much pudge down the front. Shaved clean. Not even sprouting yet, the little perv. Not him, mind you, roll it on. "Did she use these?"
"Yeah." Hm. Right, someone mentioned evidence denial. I don't want to think about her kids. "Mh."
"Mh?"
"It feels good."
"You didn't fuck her?" He shook his head next to my shoulder. "You want to fuck me?"
"Yeah!" Duh voice. I climbed on and felt up to his shoulders. Brushed his nipples. "You like the underwear?"
"I'm not a transvestite, but I'm prettier when it's on."
"Hold still," I felt between us and got situated.
"She liked doing this." I didn't have one she knew about. Not really enough for this, but I popped the cap on the lube and wet a couple fingers.
"If you like, you can hold the bar, right over your head." Not really a bondage thing, but this is a lot easier to do by feel if he doesn't squirm around. "You okay?"
"Uhuh!"
"Mh, good." I popped out onto him and slid up to drape over the end. Slick, I rubbed my fingers around on the head and made it slicker.
"Yeah." My quads tightened to slip them between us and spread it around the bottom. I switched hands to feel if I was getting wet. A little clammy, maybe, but my knees dropped out when I dragged my finger back under my nose.
"Nh!" Goosebumps, I picked up his hand, and the other one followed to my chest. I'm up to a C. More diet, less exercise. I went a little too far with trying to retard my growth. "You've never been inside anyone?"
"No,"
'hhHHI!' Virgin. I don't fetishize it, but WTF, [x]
'huhuhuh!'
"Uh!" don't humiliate him. He's young, and I'm really not hot enough to get off easier than to just let him slip out, pitch the rubber, and shower in the morning. I missed that whole awkward teenager phase. I must say it's kind of nice not having to work myself up and relax to enjoy it. I wonder what size he is and how he looks in underwear.
"Go to sleep," I kiss his hair, "Sweety." But I fall asleep with my fingers between my legs. He's warm, and he doesn't snore.
Gary {Im...}
"Mh?" That wasn't a nightmare.
"Hm?" She swallowed and uncrossed her legs. "You like baths or showers?" I looked up. "Doesn't matter, there should be plenty of hot water." I washed myself real good. She didn't pee on me or anything, but I had to think back. What she said was "You really like Larry." I do, she's awesome, I don't know any better words for her, but Larry. He's really weird, but I like it. I think I'm starting to see all the pieces of 'Janet' mishmashed into this whole love polyhedron they had going on. Or "Clusterfuck," he called it. Or maybe where she got a lot of her fantasies from?
It's not like all sex, all the time. It's like every time we do something, we stop and talk about it. And that's great, it helps me think about what happened and see through her lies. It was abuse, rape, I was a victim, and this isn't. It isn't wrong, they were helping me, instead of taking advantage and making me, what? I have no idea what she was trying to make me do, I just realized that she was. I'm just not smart enough to figure out what, but out of everyone involved now, I bet Larry can help, with a little help from that Maud person.
He has a mustache, and more than a pussy. Not quite Boobs, boobs. With that sports bra and baggy t-shirt, you could barely tell. Didn't change while he was here, I think I want to see more of him. Not shy at all. He's about my size, but skinnier. And it didn't feel wrong when he did the same things to me. Familiar, reminded me of them, but not wrong. "Scoot back," she came in the front of the curtain and pulled it down. "Turn around." She washed out my butt crack.
"She raped you?"
"Uhuh?" My voice echoed loud in the corner.
"Relax," she rubbed my legs, "Do you think there's any damage? Bleeding, um pain when you."
"No, but she was real rough."
"Do you mind?"
"Mind what?"
"Hn, if I check you for damage?"
"I guess. Ah ahm! Was that your tongue?"
"Well I'm not gonna just jam a finger up there, no hemorrhoids, or nothing?"
"I don't think so."
"Hold still." She never did that. I never even thought about that. I guess there's other people out there somewhere, but it felt weird. "How's that?"
"Uhuh?"
Her thumbs squeezed me open pretty hard. "Hold still." I tried. "Seriously, stop squirming." She washed it out and turned off the water. "Huh!" Pulled back the curtain and grabbed a towel. "You want to try this?" I shrugged and kind of held up my hands. "In my experience, it helps to enjoy whatever hurt you, to get past it. If you can."
"Okay, I'll try."
"Get up on the couch," she bent over and folded it up. Made it look pretty easy. "Like this," Up on my knees, I held on the back. "Bend over." She pulled a glove on and snapped it behind me. "What did she do?"
"She just stuck her fingers in there and fucked me. Uh!" It felt cold and slick.
"Relax," I tried. "Try pushing out, like you're taking a, uhuh!" It made me looser, and I felt her knuckle. She popped it in and out a couple times, "Nhnhin!" I felt her hand between my legs too, I mean her other hand, it didn't have a glove on it. Her fingers on my butt, and my balls bounced a little too. "And called you names, but don't think about those. Don't think, just feel." Mhm? She pulled out, and her knuckle popped through, but when she pushed in again, her fingers were up, instead of down, and she pushed deeper. "Well, I don't feel anything." I did, it was weird, "Did she touch this?" She rubbed it with her fingertip, and the glove, it felt really weird.
"Gnh!" She hit it, sometimes, and it was like getting kicked in the balls, it even made my balls ache, like after she denied me an orgasm. "It didn't," I could barely breathe, 'feel so good.'
"Don't worry about getting off," she let my dangle go, "You've had a busy couple days, and lots of guys can't keep it up with anal."
"Hnh?" I didn't, but it almost felt like I did. When she pulled out, and I could breathe again. I felt dizzy, light-headed, but this dreamy pleasure all over, like an ache, but good. I went in the bathroom and sat down. I didn't have to, it just felt like it, but I peed, and found some wipes. That took the sticky greasiness right off. It felt tender, but didn't hurt. Even with the cold wipe, it felt good. I liked it. I finally liked it.
Mega {Im NS Talk}
"How do you feel?" I washed the plate and pan. "Hungry?" he flushed and came back out.
"Not really," he could lose weight or gain it. He wasn't unhealthy, but certainly not on the thin or muscular sides of the spectrum. I read Larry and Burt's notes. I'll add that he's avoidant about Burt's nudity. Probably residual homophobia and penis envy, being the de-facto "Fag" so long. Hates it, I can sympathize.
"I was identified as a Dyke in high school. Like Faggot, but I played along because it kept me from being hit on, directly." Janet exploited it, of course. "How do you feel?" he sat down, "Better?" He wasn't smiling, but had that satisfied half-smile, as if he hadn't the energy or will to flex those muscles completely. Relaxed, he looked relaxed, and lacked the words. "Nevermind, you're not flashing back at all?"
"Oh, I am, still, since I met Larry, but it's weird. It's not, it doesn't hurt because I have the pleasure to compare to the pain."
"That's how she manipulates," I realized, "Why she selects victims that don't know any better."
"So this is?"
"Therapy," I guess, "Awareness that it doesn't have to be that way. You should probably take a break, that was what," I looked up and counted, "5 orgasms in 18-20 hours?"You're 14, and got hypersexualized, so that's pretty impressive by itself, but are these your clothes?"
I picked them up, freshly washed and folded, not sure if it was Burt or Larry, but probably their idea. Schoolgirl, St. Agnes logo, probably stolen. "Huh!" He's a love-letter, or like a Zodiac (+) Taunt. "Nemesis." I rolled my eyes, "You want a makeover?" Signed, addressed, she didn't send him to Maud, directly. I grabbed the tackle box full of makeup from under the sink while he got dressed. Not a pretty face, he looks plain and unremarkable as a boy, but I always thought she might be colorblind. I can imagine how she made him up, that prostitot amateurish job, almost stage paint. Mikado. {Gilbert and Sullivan.} "Nhmhim! Close your eyes." I dabbed the foam swab tip on my tongue and leaned in. "I think you're a yellow or orange." I unscrewed the cold-cream. The test patch wasn't quite right. "Can you close 1 eye?" Blue, but deep blue. As dark as blue gets, "Do you sun-bleach?" I brushed his hair back from the temples.
"It gets lighter in the summer." I held onto his forehead.
"Hold still."
"Me and Larry are the same size." I looked down, Larry is skinnier, but he has hips. You can't really see them, with his pectoral trapezoid from the back, or the baggy cutoffs and untucked t-shirt ensemble, much less the orthotics. The belly made up for his narrow hips. "Does he have any panties?"
"Jock straps," or actually a special orthotic carrier, that's what he calls it. He wears a cup, molded to shape the groin of his pants. It's uncomfortable when he's turned on, but it gets in the way anyway. "You like bras and panties?"
"They make me feel pretty." I let him nod and turn the tackle box around to tip up the mirror, hot glued in the lid.
"How's that?" No glasses in the way, or to magnify his eyes. That would be nice, because they're small and deep-set. Which is why I decided to brighten, instead of shadow them, no liner, maybe some mascara? Maud would know.
"Hm!" He turned side-to-side.
He's young and has cheeks. "Hold still." I feel the bones, masculine, out of place, so concealed by the fat. Jawline too, a little too straight, and an obtuse corner behind the molars. May actually be the prettiest weight for him. Smooth, almost poreless, I skipped foundation to the blush brush. "You like buttfucking?" He looked down and flushed. "Look up?" Merlot, but lightly applied, so it doesn't look painted on. A little more curve here too. Toward the earlobe.
"You know, I can't paint worth a," Damn? "Shit. A canvas is too flat." They have corners. "How's this look?" We don't have a hand mirror down here, so I picked up the Plano and tilted the mirror with my thumbs.
"I look prettier!" Not gorgeously beautiful, but passable. I buttoned up her blouse and left the sweater-vest folded up. I like the blue skirt, I hate patterns like stripes and plaid. Janet used to clash those too. Borrow a seam-ripper for that logo patch, it would bring out their eyes even more. Cute little club nose, but it turned red when they blushed. Definitely blue and gold, they should save up and go shopping.
"Gayle?" They nodded. Looked like one of Gloria's classmates, in one of the pictures. Not any particular one, but would fit right in. I kissed their forehead. "That's a start."
A year and a half, amazing how much damage she could do in so little time, give or take. 2 summers, but hopefully they wouldn't take so long to patch up. | FFTIM? B2M TV Drag Piss Pseu Saph. Rape Mole Cons/Fant/Play | N/A | Authors/Psiberzerker/Genders/This Years Model.txt |
94,780 | Psiberzerker | College | Yeah, so the church paid for a trade school, a couple years, until I failed out. Real Estate/Building Maintenance. Cheapest school I qualified for out of state, A&M, College town, said it right on the tin, Southern/western state not quite up to tornado alley, but right about the buckle of the Bible Belt. Also covered plumbing, HVAC, residential wiring, building code, construction/remodel, and I basically came in an apprentice Mason, so skated backwards through those labs, juggling the puck. Just for context:
Dorm room, with a roommate. Early in the semester, so a new one.
"Nhm!" Great, well I don't have to ask how her date went.
"Oh!" I helped her to her bed, "Are you okay?"
"Why do guys have to be so;" she just broke down after that.
"Huh! What did he do?"
"Nh!"
"Anything to report him to campus security?" I smelled a little alcohol.
"Nh?" she shook her head.
"Aryn, did you flashback?" She pulled herself tighter and froze up. "Hh," I rubbed her back, "Relax, it's over. He's not here, it's just you and me, you can relax." She nodded, "Try and take a deep breath."
"Huh huh huh huh!" Close enough.
"Okay, let it out, and try to take another, yeah, that's good, just breathe."
"Huhhhhh!" I patted her back and moved back to her bed. So, she could put her legs down and fall over on her pillow. "Yeah." She nodded, sideways.
"What?"
"Huh, you're right. Huh! I guess, whenever I have a date, and he, uH!"
"Calm down," her hands shook, and she covers her face. "Don't trigger yourself again, okay flowers and kittens." I rolled my eyes.
"What?" She looked out.
"Nothing, just something random to snap you out of it. So, sit up, catch your breath, and give your head a good shake. I thought you might be going through some PTSD, or something, but stop going over the same thoughts over and over, it doesn't go anywhere." I nodded, repetition intentional to outline the emotive loop, bookended by Go as a way out; "I think I went through, something like you, and it was years before I could date again, so. Huh!" Don't look at the clock, damnit! It's too late, but this is important. "Hearh!" I yawned, also an anti-sexual abuse activist in my mythical spare-time. "Can you hand me a soda out of the fridge? Huh! Thanks." Pch! Not like I can pull out my grades this semester anyway, so drop that class, and focus on the ones I can salvage. "Huh! All right, now you know I go to group, and without thinking about it, you might have something to come to group, and talk about?"
She nodded, "I don't know," looked away, "If I could."
"But you've thought about it, and you're not getting any better, by yourself?" She shook her head, "All right, well you don't have to talk about it tonight, but if you don't mind listening, I guess I can talk about what happened to me. As an example, and how I'm learning to cope with it. All right?" she nodded, "Tell me if any of this is triggering, but I'll try not to be too graphic about it." Every time it gets a little easier, "Here goes;
Huh! I was molested, as a freshman in high school. I thought, huh. Well, she was a senior, and popular. I thought she wanted to be my friend, but. She turned out to be predatory, and took advantage of my naivete."
"Is that why, you're bisexual?"
"Huh! No, well yes, and no. Okay, you're making it very complicated, well it is, but, yes. Okay, I have sex with women to help me get, past that experience, but. I don't really identify as bisexual."
"Why not?" at least she's feeling calm enough to ask questions, and might I add, actually talk about sexuality.
"Well, because with other women, it's not like sex for me. It's more like, masturbation, only a lot easier because I can see everything, and reach everything easier. You know how, difficult it can be, when you play with yourself?"
"Oh," she shook her head, "I don't."
"Never?" kept shaking her head, "Okay, do you think, possibly it might have to do with, what happened, or your religious beliefs?"
"Well, I'm not judging you for it." She might have walked in on me, a couple times. We're roommates. "I mean, yeah, I guess you'll still get into heaven, because Jesus absolves us from all that, but I try not to live a sinful life anyway."
"Well, it's not sinful." I nodded, "Nowhere in there does it say anything about that. It's men, who run the church, and get up there to tell women it is, so that they don't have to compete or whatever. Look, I'm not going to misrepresent myself as a biblical scholar, nor an expert on men, but the church is extremely sexist, and repressive of women when the Bible just doesn't say any of that. It bans gay sex, between men, that's it. I read it, grew up Catholic just like you, but men make this shit up, and wave a bibles so it looks like it says it in there. It just doesn't."
"Really?"
"Yeah, and sexual tension, along with your, bad memories, are not healthy. I'm not saying not masturbating is unhealthy, but. Huh! It sounds like you have no sexual outlet, whatsoever, except for the flashback. And that's driving you fucking nuts." I can tell.
"Yeah," she nodded, "I guess you're right." Looked down.
"Well, don't let me gaslight you," I got up, "I'm going to take a shower, so you can have the room to yourself. But try to think about something else. Anything else, when you start feeling scared, or anxious. You can tell, when you're going to have another attack?"
"Yeah, so flowers, and kittens?"
"Yeah, or whatever. You don't even have to think about sex, at all. But you need to get off, I swear, you'll feel better, so just think about whatever makes you happy." I finished grabbing all my stuff and went up the hall. I probably gave her plenty of time, curled up to cry in the corner, but at least the dorm water heaters held up for hours, right?
"Snh!"
Sometimes, you just have to let it all out. So, that out of the way I could think about football. Players, I know it's stereotypical, but I like the uniforms. The nice tight pants, the way the pads exaggerate their manly shapes, even their grunts, and the loud crush of them coming together when the ball snaps.
"Hm!" so at least I can get it out to play with, and turn off the water to rub circles, so it doesn't rinse the lube away when it starts to well up. "Yeah," then they have to head to the locker room, the shower, "HhHhH!" Yeah, all those guys, naked together, slapping asses, "Good game," and all that sweat, "SNHHHH!" I can almost smell it. Then the water cutting off, and them looking back, at me standing in the door.
"Knock knock..." Cum in...
"Nhmeah!" I'm wet enough for a fingertip, and swirl it around. Imagining them turning around, cumming forward, getting hard, and their hands all over me. "Mh yeah!"
Erin {FF... ST: "How to be Dumb" (MLAR)}
"Hh!" I stopped.
"Feel any better?" She took the towel off her hair, and pulled out the curls with her fingers. "Snh!"
"Yeah, a little." I sat up. "Umh, how do you get off?"
"Every girl's different," she sat down, legs crossed. She nodded, "You never got off?"
"Huh, just," I hugged my legs.
"Oh, I'm sorry." I shook my head. "Hh, did he get you off?"
I nodded.
"He raped you."
I shook my head.
"Hh, look. Getting aroused, and climaxing doesn't make it any less rape, but, you know I work with Take back The Night?" nod, "Well, I've talked to a lot of rape victims, and if you weren't raped, then you're abused, acutely enough that there's no practical difference."
"Yeah," I took a deep breath, "He raped me." Shivered.
"Good, I mean what he did was evil, and he will burn in hell for it, but it's good to say it."
"Yeah," I actually felt a little better, just to tell someone.
"Nh!" All of a sudden, I don't remember getting up, or moving, but I was on her bed, crying, and she just rubbed my back, and said soothing stuff, until I could calm down. "Snh!" I dried my eyes, "You're really good at that."
"Thanks, but, I wish I didn't have to."
"Yeah, huh. I think, you think, I might be able, I mean ready, to talk? About it?"
"I can't answer that, you mind if I put some clothes on?"
"Hh!" I just stretched out, relaxed.
"Okay, were you drunk?" no, "Or was he drunk, at the time?" Uh uh. "Okay, well that should eliminate it as a possible trigger, but. I can't help but notice your drinking, it puts you at risk."
"How do you mean?"
"College campus? Look, guys rape drunk girls every night, on this campus alone, we can't even patch them up faster than they make more victims, so it's like bailing a sinking ship."
"Are you." I sat up. "Having an attack?"
"Huh!" She sat down. "Can I have my bed back?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"Don't be, and in answer to your question, yes."I was about to, and you stopped me. So, thanks for that."
"No problem."
"It's just overwhelming, and it's starting to feel more important than my schoolwork, even."
"So, you're saying, maybe I was getting drunk to get raped again?"
"No, I didn't say that, why?" she shook her head. "Did you think that or any other self-destructive thoughts?"
"Well?" I shook my head. "Not really, but. Huh, maybe, in the back of my head. I might have thought I might be able to go through with it, or. You know. Huh! Uh?"
"Not really, but I have heard it before. You want to conform, all the other girls have boyfriends, or it seems like, and they look so happy, right?"
I nodded.
"Well, a lot of that comes from the sexist message that you need a man, we need men to survive. That's why we don't make as much, and yet have a higher cost of living. We have to wear makeup to be pretty enough to attract a man, who makes enough money to afford all that makeup."
"You really hate sexism." I could see how mad it made her, just talking about it.
"Yeah, the problem is that it also attracts the wrong kinds of people. Like the ones who call you slut for not going out with them." She shook her head. "Like that makes any damned sense, but back to you. You like men, right? You are attracted to them?"
"Oh yeah, I don't go out with them just because it's expected, I really do want to be happy."
"Well, you don't need a man to be happy, but it might help you get past your fear and pain associated with them. So, what kind of men, and what do you like about them?"
"Umh?" I thought: White, "Sensitive guys, intellectuals? Yeah, smart, they don't have to wear glasses, but that helps. And, you know, sharp? Not like nerdy, or too nerdy, but it helps if they dress well."
"Yes," she nodded, "That would be consistent with the guys I see you go out with. Do they feel safe to you? As opposed to other guys?"
"I guess? Yeah, I guess they're not as scary?"
"And it helps if they can hold a conversation," she winked, "Right? Ironically, I like the opposite. Big dumb jocks, I don't know why. I mean, other than they're nice to look at, and fuck like a piledriver, but. Huh, I guess I don't like being challenged, intellectually, by them."
"You're real smart."
"Thank you, huhn. Feel better? Because I need to pass out, and you're pretty drunk. So, I'm going to turn out the light now," Click, 'and probably drop a couple classes tomorrow.'
"Goodnight, Ruth."
"Good night, Erin."
Studio {FS Sculpt. I guess that character code is for Sculpture/Subject. St: "Invasion Hit Parade" (Mighty Like a Rose)}
"Ch!" The art lab's open, so they let me sit in. The back, they're painting still-life anyway.
Lit a candle.
"Eyes on the subject," she got their attention back. I closed my eyes, while the candle made a nice well. Spilled it out on the tummy, and opened my eyes to work it in. Starting with red, I lit a green to make a nice brown, mixed it in like paint, and blended it out, before it cooled too much. Now that the wax under it warmed up for it to start cooling slower. "Huh," white, cheap, for blocks this size, since I have to pay for my own supplies. If I'm going to be coloring it, today.
Ch! Pwhhhhhhh! I opened up the torch to a nice tongue of flame, and just flashed it around, set the sparker aside to smooth it out with the heat. Not even close, this darker brown soaks it up a lot faster, so ever higher. Whhwwhh!
"Class, eyes front."
I softened the balls, or hemispheres cut with the hot wire, and fixed them on the chest. WhhwwhhwwWH! Shit it off, after blending them in, and felt between to start shaping them before they cooled. Good, the candles bot have great pools, so I picked them up to start coloring out, from the nipples.
Kshshshsh! I looked back at the curtain, being pulled across to partition the studios. "Ope," that's enough, so start blending it around.
She's skinny, and too dark to draw, but has that, beautiful body. "Huh!" Buxom, and, whatever the equivalent for the bottom is. Better get started on the shoulders, before I work my way down to her hips, And what's between her hips... She doesn't shave, well her legs, but INS what I could use for her hairs, or how I could mold her mons without, seeing it. Or;
PWH! Cut off the torch, and wipe my brow. The neck looks okay, but. I'm not thinking about that. Maybe I should take a break, in the bathroom, I can't seem to concentrate.
{"Harpies' Bizarre" (MLAR)...}
Ruth {FF Mast. Trig fg Mole Ince}
"Nh!" I know that grunt!
"You all right?"
"Yeah, nh! Fine?"
"Well," I turned over, "Can you try to keep it down?" Hard enough to sleep without her playing with herself.' {Incidentally, that's her muttering;" to herself...'}
At least she put a robe on, and went out. "And, snh? Stinking up the room." How I know I'm not gay, we don't smell right. Not like guys sweat, "Huh!" but now I'm all hot and bothered, so. "Wh!"
Put on Last Boat leaving (Spike;)
"Hush my little one, don't say a word..."
"Hhn." My fingers are getting soft, and fat. At least I got a decent callous from writing and drawing so much. Gotta learn it, to make any decent money, much less a difference in this world, their world. Not that we'd run it any better, but you think you could at least share? You don't have to care, just share. But the side of my fuck you finger's still hard enough, so. "Yeah," nlm, "Go fuck yourself."
So, "Sharon, 'nd Karen," hadn't had the twins fantasy for a while. Real girls, in middle school, but I just fantasized. Doing anything with them. "Oh, we do everything together." And anyone, like me? Like I ever had the guts to say that, or anything, to any of them.
"Huh!" I'm just not warming up tonight, so grab my pillow. Crush it under my head. Like Khanny, now why'd I think of that? Am I homesick, really?
"Hmh!"
'ruthy?'
'mhM?"
"Can you play, mommy?.. Well, like you play with yourself." Or I just did. "Didn't you ever play with mommy?"
"Yeah;" then I got too old. "She stopped."
"Nh?" Son she walks in on me Again! "Ihihihihihn!"
"Well," she looked down, "Can you play with me?"
"Huh!" She came back, pulled the towel off her dry hair. "Sorry." 2 braids, on the sides around the crown, she looks at me sideways, head tilted, unreadable expression on her face in the dark.
"No," I sat up, "That's all right," shook my head, "I wasn't sleeping anyway."
"Oh," she turns on the light. "Okay."
"Are you, feeling any better?" She followed my eyes.
"Huh, it still, kind of hurts?"
"Inside?"
"Oh," she shook her head, "I don't go inside."
"Okay, then what're you doing wrong, *then." *Redundant.
"Uh?" she shrugged, so I moved over to her bed. "I don't know?" Held her shoulder, felt up and down her back.
"In the top?" She nodded, "Well, that's still probably pretty sensitive, you mind if I take a look?" I rubbed her legs. On the outside, just felt out to her knee, and left it there. "Aryn?"
She shook her head.
"Does that mean you wouldn't mind?"
"Yeah," she nodded, "Huh!"
"Relax," I shook her knees back and forth together. "Just need to slip these down, a little. Okay?" She nodded.
"Now, just lay back, good. I'm just going to look in the top. Ooh." She's hairy. "You don't do that dry, do you?"
"And wet, in the shower."
"Well, there's your problem. Lube is your friend. I licked my fingers, and headed back over to my bed. "Snh?" Just sweat, and had to be mine, because she just went and rubbed herself raw in the shower. "Hun!" Shake my head, "Okay, you're probably too," *sore? "Sensitive, huh! So, you'll want to try indirect stimulation. Since you actually have pubic hair," Actually surprised me the first time I saw it, but she's Baptist. "So start up here, and just beat around the bush to see what pops out. Yeah, good, now what do you think about?"
She looked at me.
?
Looked away.
"Damn it!" I grabbed my towel on the way out.
"No, Ruth?" She grabbed my arm.
"Don't touch!" I pulled it out, "Me!" I whirled around, "Look. I'm sorry I lied to you, but I'm not bisexual. Huh! I didn't start that rumor, I just have a lot of gay, bi, and feminist friends. To tell the truth, I was serially molested, by women and girls, and that just made me progressively more vulnerable to women and girls."
"I'm sorry," she touched my arm.
"It's okay." I nodded, "You didn't know."
"Your mom?"
"Yeah," I plopped down on the corner of my bed. "Started, well I don't remember when it started, I barely remembered when she stopped. The tooth fairy, huh! I didn't get any quarters, she just stopped tucking me in at night, and went to read my sister a story.
The Jungle Book. Was my favorite movie, I had a stuffed tiger, Shere Khan, I called him Khanny, and he kept the monsters away.
She didn't, I didn't know, it was sexual. Huh! She just touched me, the way she always touched me. When she," tucked me in. "Huh, baths too. I don't remember potty training, but I remember my sister. Potty training; and, huh! I guess that's when she started molesting her too. Not in front of me, or together, but when she died. Huh! I guess I molested her too."
"So, you're a child molester?"
"No, sorry. Huh! I don't, why I would never, but she came onto me? I don't do it any more, and I was still very much a child myself. Look, I could have molested you, right then, and there. I didn't."
"Well, I'm not a child."
"Well, I'm not a molester, I don't make victims, I help you."
"Well, you just said you molested your little sister?"
"Huh, we molested each other, or we mostly masturbated together, but I huh! I guess it was incestuous, but yeah, sometimes. It felt like, I was."Molesting her."
{Auto-advances to the next Album. Elvis Costello - "The Other Side of Summer" (Mighty like a Rose.) 2 CD player.}
Aryn {FF Flashbacks. FF EmoAbuse. Serious warning, redzone.}
"On the side of caution," she nodded.
"Okay?" I shook my head. "He, he! Snh, well I guess you could say he stalked me."
"Friendzone, or endzone?"
"What?"
"Sorry, did he try to be your friend, and push past that boundary, or was he way out where you could barely see him?"
"Oh yeah. I didn't even know his name."
"Endzone. Power-reassurance." she made the binoculars sign over her eyes, "Or erotomanic, if you're a celebrity. How old were you?"
"Thirteen?"
Nod, "Plausible ephebophiliac. Older? Yeah, uh, sometimes I find it helps to understand the attacker, and his possible motivations. At least that answers a lot of the Why questions. Keeps the victims from blaming yourselves."
"Oh."
"Go on..."
"Oh, well." Took a minute, "Um, yeah, so I caught him, and. Well, he was kinda cute, and sweet when I got to know him. Huh, but then. He kind of went too fast."
"With sex."
"Well intimacy, he hugged and wanted to kiss me right away, but he said I love you."
"That first day?"
"Why, it couldn't have even been an hour."
"Reassurance. That's their delusion, that you're in love. Uhuh? Too, with them, but they develop their obsession from afar. You rejected him?"
"How did you know?"
"Because he raped you. Huh. I'm sorry." She rocked me in her arms. Over my shoulder, and around to my arm. "But that's what triggers them to violence. You didn't know, he could have just as easily beaten you, or strangled you to death. They just don't teach this in schools. Or, to College instructors." Well, it's a trade school.
"Yeah, huh. I finally tried to kick him out." I winced.
"What'd he do?"
I just made the sign.
"Beat off on you?" I turned away, "Your face?" She shook me by the shoulder, "It's all right, it's over. Stop flashing back."
"Uh uh uh!" {Author's note. Yeah, she's doing it on purpose. Subconsciously, sadistic.} "Huh! Then he. He touched me, and, he made me get off."
"With his fingers?" She smoothed down my skirt.
"Huh!" I nodded.
"Like at?"
"Nhm?"
"Huh, you need a drink?"
"I want a real drink."
"Well, that's not helping, either. All right, take a few more deep breaths, and then we can go on."
I took her arm, and she sat down. So, I kissed her.
"Wait," she shook her head, "What?"
"Hh, thank you." I looked down, "For helping me with all this."
"Hh," you're welcome," she walked back, turned to the corner.
Looked at nothing. Hands up on her hips, and she even stands like a man. All the time, or nearly, but that's the first thing you notice. 'Swhy everybody thinks she's gay, or a 'dyke' the way they call it. Because she doesn't even walk like a girl, she swaggers. Pushes guys out of the way, they're scared to get the door for her, I seen it. And I must say, I find that incredibly attractive.
"Huh, I thought I was straight. And now, I'm not so sure."
"Well great," she rummaged in her drawers, "And now I need to go take a shower."
Ruth {FF Solo Fant.}
"Huh!" at least they got a CD player, so I rummage through my ditty duffle on the sink counter. "Huh," Spike: The beloved Entertainer.
>> "One two three four five six seven eight nine ten, eleven."
Bling! "It's not open, to discussion anymore..."
"Huh!" Water feels about right.
We need more velvet throated singers, so I sand along. Contralto, church choir.
"Baby plays around... And so it seems, I've always been the last to know." Snh! "I wish to God, I didn't love her so. 'Cause baby plays around. I try to be strong, hold onto my pride. She doesn't even know it's wrong, how much I hurt inside, SNH! And heaven know I've tried, but. Baby plays a round!"
Just a plaything, it's hard to reconcile, the facts I'm facing. "Huh!" Wipe my face, "Snh!" The shower waters it down.
And yeah, it feels kinda dirty.
I turn off the cold, "Just not the kind I like." Shiver.
"All the children testify," I grabbed for the towel, "That Miss Macbeth;"
"Huh!" Got my hands dry, not really in the mood for that one.
<< "eleve, ten, nine,"
"Meao!"
<< "Nine. Huh!" Shake my head.
"She looked like she learned to dance, from a series of still pictures..."
Erin {...}
"Hh!" I just didn't bother to stop. I had my blankets over it. "This make you uncomfortable?"
"Not really," she shrugged, "Not like I haven't listened to you play with yourself." Or seen me naked.
"Hh," I nodded.
"You're getting better?"
I nodded, "Hm? Yeah, huh! I was, trying to do it, like he got me off."
"Spammed the clit?"
"Spam?"
"Sorry, gamer term." Right, D&D crowd, "Well, originally computer term, for junk email. But he was rough, and dry?"
"Yeah." Just nodding, not even looking back any more.
"You mind if I turn off the light?"
"No, not at all. huh!"
"Look, you're a beautiful girl, and. Huh! It's not like, I'm not interested. It's just my issues, you understand. I've been hurt a lot too, and now's not a good time for you, either."
"How do you mean?"
"You're just starting to work on it, but you're more comfortable talking about it. And, it doesn't turn you off, at all?"
"Oh no!" I squeezed my hands, "Huh!"
"It turns you on?"
"Yeah."
"The memory, of your rape?"
"Nh?" I nodded, "Only, not him." I took a breath, "You."
"Yeah, that's what I mean by vulnerable. Huh! It also makes me feel, uncomfortable."
"How?"
"Predatory? I don't like, to feel like that."
"HhhhhHhHhH!" I slipped my fingers out, and just ran my fingers up, and down my spasming tummy. "Hh h h, h. H!"
"Feel better?"
"Oh yes, so much. Huh! Ruth?"
"Yes, Erin."
"Huh, you think I could, huh! Kiss you?"
"Huh?" She looked away, pink as a balloon. "Yeah, okay." She closed her eyes, and turned back.
"Smq?"
"Hh," she took my hands, "You think you could, huh. Go wash your hands?"
"Yeah," I kissed her forehead. "Snh?" No shampoo smell. "Can I borrow your shampoo?"
I looked at it: "[Bath and Body Works?]"
"Yeah, they got all kinds of scents there, too. But, you don't have to buy them."
"Oh," I grabbed a towel too. "Thanks."
"I'm sensitive, to fragrances."
"Oh," I pulled the door after me.
Ruth {FF... Groom? LFIK, it's going slow. I believe I adequately explained why, and trigger codes are kind of moot at this point...}
At least I can program my CD player, and probably fire up Winamp to burn a mixed tape. "Huh!" Too much like work, but start with After the Fall...
"In an anonymous rendezvous,"
"Huh! Thanks, Declan." Keep on doing what you're doing...
Get my fingers wet again. If she's gonna be stinking up the room anyway, might as well fight back. "Snh?" Mine doesn't bother me, "Hahah!" Like a fart, I guess.
"Hhn!"
That was quick!
"Oh," she turned back to the door.
"No," I didn't stop, "it's all right, please stay."
"You left your CD," she popped it in the open case.
I started reaching for the stereo, shook my head. "Wrong album. Uhm, just sit down." Already propped up on my pillows, sideways. "Huh, you want to watch?"
She nodded, and put her legs up.
"You mind," pulled the corner of the towel out of the way.
"Nah, go'head, uh! One of the things I like about girls, especially straight girls;"
"Oh," she shook her head, just inching her fingertips in her pubes. "Mh! I'm gay. Huh, totally gay, I just. Well like you said, huh! I guess I was trying to conform."
"D'you tell the RA?"
"No, well. I left that blank, in the questionnaire."
"Huh, she's homophobic, but one of those. 'Oh no, some of my best friends;' Huh, denial ones. She doesn't want to sound homophobic, but; So, she does it with Denial. Sticks us lesbos together, so we don't contaminate the straight girls, doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about." Nodding, "You healed?" Back to direct clitoral, just getting turned on first, and not as hard as she can.
"Yeah," she nodded. "Uhm, how many times, can you get off?"
"Idaknow," ;) "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop?" She laughed.
"Huhan? You're funny, and I love that about you."
"Hh," okay, she's known me a while by now. {Just kinda skipped past the boring stranger-roommate transition to the good stuff for you, the readers.}
"What?" she looked down, blushing. Didn't stop. "Huh, sorry if that makes you a little uncomfortable."
I shrugged, "I'll get over it, but as I was saying. Huh, at least girls can go slow. I don't have to floor the brakes, but it's better this way. It's complicated, so it's easy to skip chapters ahead. But really, it works so much better to stop and smell the roses, as often as possible." I know my brain ain't workin' when I resort to speaking in cliche's. "Huh! So, I was also raped, like you." She stopped, "It was my girlfriend's son, so not exactly like you. He didn't have to stalk me, I was over at his house all the time, but she took advantage of me. Then, he took advantage of the opportunity that presented. Then, I went insane for a while. Nervous breakdown, talking to myself, or the voice in my head, and paranoid delusions about demons. Huh! My doctor said it was probably maternal psychosis, but it came out like a combination of schizophrenia, and multiple personality. She even had a name." Well, Lilith. "Uh!"
"Wow, so when you say Maternal."
"I mean while I was pregnant, for like half a year, then I got in a convent, had an exorcism, and gave my daughter to the orphanage.That seemed to do the trick, I'm even off the medication for it. After the post-partum depression wore off.
"But you have a daughter."
"Yeah, Janeane. After Janeane Garafalo?"
"Oh yeah." She nodded.
"She's about 3, or 4. All this happened in high school. Then, the church paid for my GED, and some classes here. I'm pretty much down to Art. Huh! Ask me how the fuck you teach art, but. I guess they're easy As, so I can stay in school. Maybe the rest of the semester, but really it's for the labs. Huh! I get a timeslot in the studios. So, I can keep working on that, but they say they can use me in groundskeeping when I get back."
"Back where?"
"Utah. Yes, there's a Catholic convent in Utah."
"Oh."
"Well," I pulled out my fingers, "I guess you got the gist of it, you want to try it on me, now?"
"Yeah," she got up.
"Okay, just not too rough on the clit, okay?"
"Yeah," she sat on the side of the bed. And felt up the inside of my thigh.
"Huh!" I just closed my eyes. "Snh!" Smelled my fingers.
"Oh yeah, and great bodywash."
"Thanks," I nodded, "Can you keep talking, too?"
"Yeah."
"It helps, distract me. Hmmmnh!" I licked my lips, "Yeah, just like that, for a while."
"Okay?"
"Scented products, huh! They mask the natural smells."
"Huh!" she put her other hand on my thigh. "Can you touch me too?"
"I can try." I opened my eyes, and stopped at hers, for a while. She smiled, and looked down, blushing. "Here," I reached up, "Let's get this towel off of you." Between her cute perky little breasts. And untucked the corner. Dropping it behind her, I felt up her back. "Come here," and felt one, to bring the tiny pink point to my lips.
"Huh!" She stopped. Touching me, good, I don't need the distraction.
"Smp!" I rubbed my thumb of the now wet, and stiffened nipple. "Huh! Whoohahhh!" Blew it dry, and them breathed on it. "Smq," sucked all around it, to find it with my tongue.
"Huh!" she felt my hair, with her fingers twining wet, and dry in my curls.
"Qlq!"
"Yeah."
I like to take my sweet time...
Aryn {FF... Pretty much just changing PoV. Cons; Also, Race. Since it becomes an issue.}
"Huh!" I shook it out, but she just kissed the other one, again. "Okay, that's enough." more than enough, "God, it's like you can suck my titties all night?"
"Aye, lass," she nodded, "Good reason for that." Grinning.
"Well, huh! It also makes me incredibly horny."
"Sorry," she looks down, "If I go too slow, just say when to move on."
I kissed her back, "Well, huh! You think you could kiss me," I looked, "down there?"
"You only had to ask." She started kissing my chest, but in between, and just squeezed around her face.
"Huh! You don't, seem to mind, that I'm black."
"Smq?" She shook her head. "Smhrh!" Wiped her face back and forth over my tummy. "I'm not gonna blow smoke up your butt, and say there's no racist lesbians, but because of my, sexual, complex. *es," Shook her head harder this time. "I believe in 1 race: Human. The differences are pretty superficial," shrugs, "You're harder to draw, shadows on, or tell when you're flushed, but I can feel it." Up almost to my neck, then wiping that, and her shoulders with her fingers, and knuckles.
"Hhn!" I was looking at the sketch, in Charcoal. She did pretty good, but then my eyes closed. "Uhm?"
"Yeah," she kissed my belly button.
"Hm," sucked it out, "Yeah, nh!" Okay, I knew about my nipples, but seriously? "OhhHH!"
"God it makes such a difference. Or everything, guys just don't know how to touch a girl."
"Mhm?" It slipped out, "SPUP!"
'uH!" I hunched, "Huh! Yeah, I guess because they don't know how it feels, like."
"Don't have all the parts, and, they're. Simpler, so I guess learning this level of complexity, may be harder for them?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well," she put her elbow down.
Ruth {FF Pseu Saph. Okay, it turns out neither is, technically a lesbian. Not the only way these things happen.
"SAPH!"
"Mhm, yeah."
"Huh!" I looked up, "I must say you're pretty insensitive."
"Well, actually I'm a masochist."
"What?"
"I love pain, need it to get off, really."
"I know, but. Really?"
"Yeah, bondage helps. Huh! I lied, to you, a lot okay? I heard, you're kinda sapphobic."
"No I'm not!"
"And in denial about it."
"I'm;" not in denial. "Snh!" She nodded.
"So, yeah. Sorry. Not my first rodeo-cowboy."
"Huhah?"
"At first," She looked down, "Huh!" her breasts fell, "I guess I didn't think you'd believe me. Nobody ever did, because. Well, I guess what you said about Patriarchy, and gender roles?" She nodded, "Well, it sounds so unbelievable, and I don't really remember it. But, I wasn't raped by a boy. I was raped by another girl, in kindergarten, with a crayon. I didn't get off on it, but. Uh! I don't fucking know, you think that's why I have to hurt myself, to orgasm?"
"Don't ask me, it's your sexuality." I thought, "Shit," facepalmed, "You stalked me." And changed it, so that 'he' was the endzone stalker, instead of being the friendzone stalker.
"Hihihn!" Change the subject, "So yeah, anyway. Hh, I saw you, in Art Class last year. Well, you came in to use the studio, and." she shrugged, "I guess I watched you, and. Yeah, it got me into Elvis Costello. Huh." She rolled her eyes, "I'm also a Furry, Nekomimi?"
"Kitty play?"
"Yeah, but not like, Hello Kitty, or Lolicon Hentai." She chucked her head at the CD player, "Pads, Paws, and Claws."
"Hahaha! I hate that song."
"I figured, since you always skip past it. So, you're. A powerbottom?"
"Huh, I'm more like a big-top. I can drive, but I need a push to get started. Inertia."
"And a nerd," she giggled, and rubbed her nose. With her paw.
"You're a Furry, really?"
"Yeah, hand me my purse?"
I grabbed it, "Here."
"Thanks," she pulled out a mirror, and a pick to fluff out ear-tufts. "Huh!" she licked the back of her thumb, and held up the mirror to carefully smooth one out. Then switched hands to do it again.
"Huhah!?" Easily the most humanly feline thing I have ever seen done. Didn't seem to think about it.
"Pantheress, obviously."
"Well," I shook my head, "I can probably figure out the wax play."
"Yeah?"
"Tomorrow," nodding, "Gotta wait for the Art Labs to open up."
"Why?"
"It's a surprise."
"You want me to," she pushed up the inside of my thigh, "Get you off first?" Looked down.
"Nah,' I'm good, "I can wait..." I stretched, and yawned. Reached for the light.
"Good night, Aryn."
"Cat," she looked back, "You can call me Kat."
"Okay, Kat." Click.
"Ruth?"
"Yessum?"
"You like, flogging at all?"
"I dunno." Never tried it, either.
"Oh, okay." She took a deep breath, and held it. "Why do you still use CDs?"
"Old fashioned, I guess." Explains her 90s music. I just put my earbuds in, put on some Peaches. Close-up (Feat. Kim Gordon) and turned it way down to just the bass.
Good Mourning {FFS Sculpt, NS. Still pretty erotic.}
"Just need to grab some candles." She pulls back the sheet, looked like a tent with some A frames, and a dowel between them.
"What's that?" A nude.
"Not what," she shook her head, "You."
"Huh?" I ducked. "How long have you been working on it?"
"All right class, take your seats."
"You want to get the curtain?"
"Yeah,"
"I'll put some music on."
"MeAuh!" She turned it don. I giggled, Elvis Costello - Pads Paws, and Claws(Spike: The Beloved Entertainer) "Of course."
She turned it down, and I pulled the sheet off the tent. "You need this frame?"
"Here," she tipped up one end, "Put it in the corner." The empty one.
"Who's this?" The Art instructor.
"My model."
"Well tell her to keep her clothes on."
"You just did!" I'm right hear, I hain't deef, massa.
"Huhah!" she waved, "Down girl. Mreauh!" pawed. "Hahah! I just need to do her face." Which got real hot.
"It's white," and a plain ball of wax, or most of one.
"Yeah," she shrugged, "It's the cheapest. Let me rough it on before I do the skin."
"How did," I looked at the nipples. My nipples, Imagine. But they even looked familiar.She was lighting candles anyway, so I got down and looked from a more familiar angle. Then I pulled out my top and stood up to shine some light down it.
"What?"
"I," I shrugged, "see why you're an art major!"
"I'll have to go back over some of the details."
"Do you have," I rubbed my shoulder, "photos of me," I looked it up and down, "naked?"
"No, why?"
I walked around, saw what my pussy looked like without the hair.
"Hh," I just shook my head, "So how'd you get it so detailed already?"
"Huh?" She just glanced back, then back up at me. "Sorry, working from memory."
"Why're you sorry about that?"
"I can already see lots of things I got wrong."
"Like what?" All the skin I could see looks familiar. "I mean, the color's not," I held out my arm, "perfect, but." It has sunlines. My sunlines?
"Some of the proportions, I exaggerated your hips and underestimated your shoulders."
"Yeah?" I walked up the side, turned my head. "Really?"
I can't see it, those are my hips and shoulders!
"Yeah, a little." She set down a basket with pillar candles and a blowtorch, then she started working up the neck with the candles. I stood there, holding my neck. Felt it get warm, then so hot, just watching her blend it with a paintbrush and switching candles in her other hand. She made brown out of red and green, I watched her do it. She looked up, "Could you move your hand?"
I nodded, she chucked her head, so I looked up.
The music changed, "I don't wanna kiss you, I don't wanna touch..."
I walked over to the computer. Laptop, folded open. [This Year's Model.] "Huh!" [Elvis Costello and the Attractions.]
"Scoot closer," she turned on a light on a stand and turned it on the arm.
"Huh?" She felt my neck! Closed her eyes and just let her arm slip down from the back of my jaw to the tops of my shoulder bones. "Hm," she nodded and felt back up, then she lit a blowtorch.
I got out my pack, "Can I smoke in here?"
"Out back." She pointed to a door. 3 dumpsters, with a fence. Wood slats, taller than me. I went behind the cardboard one and pulled out the crotch of my catsuit.
"Huh!" I took another drag. "HhhHhHuhHUH!"
Fuck, I'm drenched. But there's a whole classroom right there, and I can't even get naked!?
"Hey," she came out, "Let me get a drag," and moved my fingers out of the way.
{St: Elvis Costello - "This Year's Girl" (This Year's model)}
"Never know if it's a real attraction,
"Hnnnnh!" Smoke out of her nose.
"All these promises of satisfaction,"
"Be right back," she slipped her fingers out of the crotch, so it snapped back, and went back inside.
"While she's being bogged? To distraction," Not sure I heard that right. "Via? This year's girl."
Dropped the square by the door, so I went and got it, as soon as I pulled it back over. Took a long slow drag and blew off the ember, waved it back and forth between my spread fingers.
Knock! She mimed through the window of the door, so I pulled the straps off my shoulders and the top down to my bra. Pushed it down around my sides, reaching back for my bra strap.
She came out, picked up the square for another drag, and closed her eyes.
"Hih?" I closed my eyes, "Hhhhhn." Relaxed, then took the smoke back while she ran inside.
Took the bra off the rest of the way and walked around the cardboard dumpster, pushing the rest of the stretch velvetine (Lycra blend) over my hips and down my legs.
"Knock,"
I pulled one out and stepped around, where she could see.
! b *_* d !
I picked my ears out and grabbed my purse for the mirror...
^-_-^
Next time, she came out to kiss me and feel me up, with the door propped open.
"See your friends in the state their in.
See your friends getting under their skin.
See your friends getting taken in."
{~E Costello (1978) ARR.}
;
Ruth {FF Cons}
She let the lab out and stopped by the drape. Watercolors, but still transparent enough to see her silhouette, backlit from the painting studio. She just let her arm fall, went out, and left the lights on.
"Okay," I turned out the music, "We should have at least an hour before she comes back and sets up the next lab." Unbuttoned my shoulder strap. "I can't believe I never saw it before."
"What?" she stopped in the middle of pulling down her cat-suit. And I mean a stretch velvetine 1 piece, with nothing underneath, like a swimsuit only a leotard.
"You're a cat." Why she draw kittens running through fields of flowers, or doodles them as backgrounds. "It's not really an act for you?"
She nodded, "It's my act, but what I like to play. Other games too, but it's always been my favorite." I turned to her walking behind me. "Here," she rubbed my shoulders, "Sit down."
"Okay?" she scratched them. Lightly, but. "Hm, you're going to have to cut your nails."
"No," she stopped, "I don't." She ran them lightly down my neck to make me shiver. "You think that, but I do just fine with long nails, even when they're sharp. They feel sharp to you?"
"Not at all." She also buffs them, almost constantly. Like a nervous habit, but with emery boards so fine, they don't even feel rough. "Ow!"
"They can still scratch, I just don't. It's like your fire-play, you're very good with the blowtorch."
"Oh, well I never, played with someone." With a blowtorch, "Uh, you'd be. Into that?" Honestly never tried hot wax, either. "It doesn't, seem like a game."
"Huh! You have a lot of control. You do, it's amazing to watch you work, and this is incredible." She felt the statue.
"Well, it's just a rough study." I shrugged, "I might be able to get it bronzed." Well, "Make a mold, for a single pour. Huh! You have to break the mold off."
"I don't know, if I want to be copied."
"Oh, well it doesn't have to be a direct duplicate. I've got the basic build, but now I can do changes. Well, I can always do changes, wax is pretty forgiving." Like that.
"The face is incredible. It's like, a 3D mirror."
"Well, you're pretty incredible too." And all that back scratching really had an effect. "Huh!" I petted down her arm.
She just turned, tilted her head to kiss me.
"Snh?"
"Sorry," I looked down.
"I know," she frowned, "But you're gonna have to get past it. I'm not gonna hurt you," she smiled, "Quite the opposite, I want to make it up to you." She kissed my neck and felt up my chest to the clasps of my straps.
"Hm!" It did feel good, and I could mostly just smell the hot wax, even the paint smells from the other side of the curtain.
"Relax," she got one undone and juggled one of the bra cups out from behind the bib. Unhooked the other side, and I pulled them down over my hips. Leaned back against the project table, she stopped kissing my shoulder inside the open neck of my shirt and pulled it up. I stood up enough to let my overalls drop.
"Oh," I shiver, "You're good and wet." Well, hot wax, blowtorch indoors. There's only so much the AC can handle. "Here," she gets down and picks up my legs to work my overalls off over my boots. Work clothes, she doesn't seem to mind.
"I never had a problem with that." I shrug, "Huh, I'm a big girl, I sweat a lot."
"I've been with big girls, it's not normal. Oh, it's okay. I hate normal, it's boring."
She slipped her fingers down the front of my shorts. 'hiH!" Her nails.
"Hold still." They slipped right back out, didn't even penetrate, but just at the edge, prying my lips apart. It scared me, but felt kind of thrilling as well. She slipped them down, "Here, why don't you get up on the table?"
She bent down, sliding her forearms down the insides of my thighs. Kissing and lapping at them, on both sides, her hands came together pinching my hairy crotch between the sides of her fingers. "SMQ!"
"Huh!" I just let my head fall back. Up on my elbows, she pinched my pubes between her lips and pulled them to suck back out. Soundlessly, "Huh! You think I should, wax the front too?"
I shrugged, "Why?"
She felt up my sides, "To match the statue?" Behind me.
"Yeah," She found the clasp. "I could see what I'm doing better, here, HUH! Now?" My chest felt free, and she rubbed the lines around my back and ribs.
"We don't have the right kind of wax," she pulled up the hanging cups, "Here, duck your head." She just slipped it over and pulled my hair out. "Maybe this evening?" She felt up and lifted them. "I can make an appointment for the full Brazilian."
"Does it hurt?"
"Yeah!" She grinned, "And it really turns me on." Switching to one side. "SMQ!"
"Hm," I bit my lip, but she opened her mouth wide to suck in the whole nipple, and. Didn't bite, but I felt her teeth. Rolling in, and it swelling in the vacuum.
"WLQ!"
"Ahshit!"
"Pbp!" It snapped back, and she cupped the other side with both hands. "Hm, snh! WLK!"
"Huhn!"
"Pbt!" I hunched, and my belly flopped.
"Mihin!" She juggled them together, then squeezed them around her face. Her hot face, dark with blood, and her swollen lips coming open to lap up between them. "Mhmhm!" Laughing, muffled, "Phfbt!"
I had to laugh at the obscene farting noise. "Hahn!" Just holding one, her other hand slipped down to rub my steaming crotch, and her nails through my pubes.
"I love your wool."
"You're a furry."
"Yeah, the lady who taught me, or played Zoo with me, she's a big old goat."
"Huhihn!" My breasts shook, the one in her hand, she kissed it again and did that not quite bite, sucking pinch, thing. "Oah!"
"Snh!" She let go and switched hands to suckle the other. "I love big girls." Smq, "Big soft. Huhn! Beautiful women, like you."
"Oh!" Now she was rubbing it in.Her thumb, the nail just barely scraping, almost to the crack of my ass, flattened on the edge of the plywood. It was, so thrilling? Not the pain, she didn't lie, didn't hurt me, but kept playing right at the edge. The blunt edge of her nails, like the chisel points of her teeth, rolling over my areolae, and barely pinching the teat as it popped out. "HUH!" My belly flopped.
"Snh?" she smelled the moist ball of her thumb, and lapped it. "Well, how about bottom-dagger?"
"What?"
"I like to fuck from the bottom," she held up a taper, "With this?" Not one of mine. She looked down, "I'm really into wax."
"I see that," she could barely sit still for the reading. I felt her face.
"Hm, yeah." She just closed her eyes, so I ran my palm down her chin. Up on one elbow, I felt her again. "Hhh!" her breath on my fingers, and her lips with the tips. Her nose, never did a black nose before, not a lot of black models. Very African feature, kind of flat, but that just made the nostrils flare out from the firm cartilaginous bulb I rubbed around in circles until she giggled, and turned away. Nice tight neck. Visible tendons, but she has a very active head? She talks with her head, like an Italian's hands, or a spokesmodel.
I guess, you ever watch the female anchor on the news? Yeah, she's there to look pretty, and maybe engage housewives, but she watches Him talk. Nodding, and turning back to the camera, as if to reassure herself that we're paying attention, instead of just a camera. Nods, then picks up the next story. Not a very expressive face, probably why she compensates with her head.
"I haven't, really done much of this. I had girlfriends, and a couple of them. Well, one was really controlling, I guess you'd call her a Dommy Mommy, and the other was very rough."
"No, get up," she climbed up, and rolled over. "On your knees, but over me." She brought the candle. "No, over on the side."
"I like this," I looked down, felt her leg. "I can see you." Not all of her, but the whole front. Her spongey hair crushed our under her head. Almost like a natural pillow. "I love your ears." I picked one out with my fingertips. She just blinked, up at me.
"You ready?" Ironically, it felt cold. Being a candle and all. She fucked me, not like I never fucked before, but it helps to think about Her fucking me. Who it is, yeah it's a cold featureless tube of wax, but the hand behind it is a person, and it takes a while for me to warm up to people, okay? Here we've been living together in the same room for over a month, and, "Huh! Any bondage?"
"I tied my girlfriend up once. Well, maybe a little edgeplay."
"What kind?"
"Knifeplay, well a knife, and dagger. I made them, for us, so she wanted to try it out."
"The rough one, not the Domme?" She nodded, "Look, don't worry. Huh! I don't care who you think about, when we have sex. I'm not really all that possessive, and territorial when it comes to women."
"Oh," hadn't even thought about that, "Good. I really prefer older women;" but she's about my age.
"You're pretty insensitive, too." She nodded.
"Big toys for big girls?" I shrugged, "I worked at a porn shop, and lived at a convent." She laughed with me, "I stole a habit for Halloween once, it was a big hit."
"So, could you steal another one?"
"A nun?" I shook my head, "Yeah, probably if I go back to visit Janeane." Nod, "I, huh! I don't know, how to care for her."
"How you feel about her?"
I looked away.
"You're also resistant to therapy."
"I built up a tolerance."
"Muahah?"
"Well, my first couple," real "Girlfriends, huh! They were like that. Liked to talk in bed, and play mindgames. Now I don't mind, but. Huh, actually you mind if I lie down? My knees are starting to hurt."
Plywood tabletop. "Here, up on your side." She turned over, "Pull your thigh up, yeah."
"Hh," I pillowed her head on my thigh, and petted up and down her stretched out side.
"Don't distract me," she slipped the thick warmed up base back through my lips, and pried them open to the well. I don't need lube, most of the time. It takes me a while to get it going, but I've been at it all day, and those touchy feely breaks out back over the last several hours, she could probably fist me if not for those nails.
"Oh!"
"That your cervix?"
"Snh!" She felt, around it?
"Huh! Snh!" She pulled right back out, and rubbed up and down again. "Huh, don't stop."
"I don't."
"SH! Fugh!" She just quick-swiped the flat wet rounded end up and down, then started swirling it in again, twisting back, and forth. "Hof, uh!" Then, "NGH!" Another gentle probing, around the donut of my cervix, then right back out, not even taking the scenic route. "Ughf" I almost fell over, and she pushed my leg back up. "What the fugh?" I wiped drool off with my arm.
She grinned, "You like it?" Not really fucking, in, and out, but more twisting, and swirling in, then pulling it straight out, so my twat sucked at it.
"Oh my god I've never been fucked like that."
"Hihin?" She put her leg up, and shut me up, then put the candle in my hands. So, I took over, "SNHHHHH!" Pushed her up with my chin, and "SNHHH!" Caught the rest of the breath.
This, I could handle. Thick? I don't mean like that, she's pretty long, and skinny, but not skinny. Lean, I mean lean, but thick hot lips, inside and out, kinda bury her clit, and hood. Right, she likes it rough, so split her open with my nose to plant my lip over my teeth, and dig my tongue in, to go to work with my fat chin.
"Um, meah!" She moved my hands, and puts her elbows down on my belly to fuck me. None of that fucking around, teasing me, but some good old-fashioned piston action, to crank one right out. Some juices came out with it, on each stroke, and the hard waxy surface felt so slick, almost greasy. I have to grab her ample, firm cheeks to push up, moan and breathe.
"Hoaaaaah, uh uhn. FughnHHHHHHH!"
She held the end, right on my cervix, but then it started spasming, and I felt her work it in. "NGHAAAAH!" Felt a lot faster than it actually was, between spasms, not unlike working a vibrator into your asshole, only the candle end wasn't vibrating.
"Guh! Fuck!"
It gushed. Heard about it, or read about it in stories that are not to be believed. My first literal gush ran down my asscheek, and soaked into the table under my hip. "Gahn!" she pulled it out, and turned it back to the flatter end, to work as much out as she could.
It came out of my womb. Now, I'd given birth, it was years ago, kicking myself in retrospect for not trying this before, but, I just held my breath, and bit into her thigh for the fat end.
"MRHHHHHHHH!" Not even cumming any more, but that hot and cold washed up my scalp turning to electric tingles, feeling it twist, and wiggle through to my uterus. "Guhn, fugh!"
"Yeah, it's really good for getting your period out, too."
I just kept waiting to pass out.
"Hih ih, hihn, ngh. Hiiihn!" She caught her breath. I sat up, and she bent down to kiss me. "HUMN!" I pulled out the candle, grinned, and held it up between us. "Snh?" I nodded, so she tried, licking it, then closed her eyes to suck it. Just the end, where it was the widest, then beveled back to the flat bottom with a little nipple melted over the knot of the wick. I went ahead and used one of her candles while she was blending with the torch to round, and cool a good fucking tip, on both ends. "KRWLK! Kah!"
"You taste delicious."
"Mind if I return the flavor?" She grinned, and winked.
"Uh," I rolled my eyes, "Actually, would you mind doing what we came here for," glancing at the clock, "Before the teacher comes back?"
"Hm?" She shook her head.
"I told you, you have to hurt me. Burn me, go ahead, and light that candle, I'll show you how."
I got up, then down on a drop-cloth. Leaning back, I just let my head hang. "Have a seat," I grinned, then kissed her, and ran the tip of my tongue up side down, through the folds of her lips, and the hood of her clit.
"Huh!, nyeah!" She shook.
"Slap! Huh!" I heard the lighter. "Now, hold it up higher. You want it too cool in the air, and splatter down on my tits, until they're nice, and coated. Myeah!" I held my breath. "Huh! Can you get me, something to lean back on?" She set it down, to collect a nice big pool in the caldera. "Hhhhhh!" I felt down the hod dotted lines, and rubbed my fingertips around the spotted splatters.
"I usually work closer," so it doesn't splatter, and bead up. I nodded, but she tucked a crate under my shoulders. "I think I can get a pillow, or something."
I shook my head, "It's about pain, not comfort," I scooted my shoulders on the hard plastic edges. Milk crate. "Pull up a mouth, make yourself comfortable. "Mph!" Now, I don't need to put my elbows down, so I can reach between my legs. "MmhpHPH!" She squirmed, and some of the air farted out, so I could gasp before she settled down again.
I just went away, and she finally stood up, when I started screaming, muffled into her cunt with the powerful climax. It rippled up, and down me, under the hard slick beaded coat. Between it and the soft, hot near burns of my hurting flesh. Like one giant hickey? I don't know how to describe it, they fade after a couple hours, instead of days, if you do it right. But until then, I can just relax, and try to breathe as the twitches settle down.
KLUNK!
"Huh!" I pulled my fingers out, and licked them. The art teacher was back, and setting up the other side of the studio, so we giggled and took our clothes back to the restroom.
"Girls?" She didn't look in, but cracked the door. "Uh, I gotta speak with you, when you get dressed."
"Hihihn!"
We put it off, kissing and picking most of the wax off until she came back."Girls!"
"Sorry, Mrs. Evans. We're coming right out."
"Have a seat," she took the corner of a different table. "Now, I don't have a problem with you."
"You don't want to sound homophobic," I nodded.
"I'm not, but this isn't about that. I can't let you two use campus property for that. I shouldn't have even left you," looking right at me, "alone in here, but it wouldn't matter if one of you were a man." Or white?
"Or both of us. So, why's it always 'men' and 'girls'?"
"Beg pardon?" She looked at me.
"That's sexism. Only it's self-inflicted. Are you a woman?"
"Yes, of course. Now, don't change the subject. Beth, you've already disrupted enough labs with your work. Now, I can't have nude modeling."
She gasped, "Let alone lesbian sex!" theatrically. I giggled. She frowned and blushed.
"In the school's studios. So, what I was about to offer is another studio where you can work on your art. If you don't mind waiting until after the lab, you can load her up, and we can move it there this evening. You may also use the studio for your romantic purposes if you don't have another place you feel safe. Now, I know;"
"Thanks, Mrs. Evans!" I jumped up and kissed her cheek.
"What's your name," she practically pushed me off, but laughed.
"Taryn."
"All right, Taryn, were you planning on taking Art next year?" I'm a dancer, but I don't mind doing some modeling if it leads to that.
"No offense, but this isn't an Art school, it's a farming school, and how do you teach Art, anyway?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Well," Liz spoke up, "There's the basic techniques, tools, and so forth, but it's not like you can teach talent." Mrs. Evans pulled back the curtain, and I saw the big fan was rolled in front of the double doors to blow the air out.
'What was that about?'
"She's doing us a favor? I could really use the studio, not to mention the lovenest, and why were you pushing her buttons like that?"
"I don't know," see what they do? "You know her better than me," I guessed.
"Right, exactly, and for one thing, she's a tightwad, and I can't really afford to pay her any rent. So, I'd kind of like to stay on her good side."
"Well, she's racist."
"Yeah, and sexist, too. Texas?" She nodded, "We still have to be able to deal with people, especially racist sexists, in Texas. This ain't Ohio."
"Yeah, well Ohio's pretty racist and sexist too."
"Well, we can't fight everyone and win. We need allies and friends, even ones we don't like."
"Okay," I shrugged, "Then we'll use her." I went and swept all the wax out of the restroom while she packed up her supplies, then we started loading the wax board in the van. It was a long afternoon.
;
'Beth {FFF, NS.}
"So," she sat up front, "How much is this going to cost?" I rode back with the project and supplies.
"I understand if you're not, financially;"
"Oh, I have plenty of money," she laughed, "Liz's the one on financial aid. My dad's a businessman."
"What kind of business?" Making conversation.
"He was a regional manager for Hardee's."
"The fried chicken place?"
"Look, if you don't want to sound racist, do you think you could try a little harder? I'm sorry, but it's a burger place. They don't even sell fried chicken anymore, except for sandwiches and tenders, just like McDonald's. Ever since they got bought out by Carl's Jr.'s, he had the option of changing over, but he sold his franchises instead. Now, he's pretty much retired and investing. Why I'm a business major - the only way I'm gonna make it in this culture without a man is to make my own money, but I got a trust fund and everything."
"I'm not racist."
"Everyone's racist, it's a racist society. You just try too hard. I noticed that in college since they don't want to appear racist, you're just way more subtle about it. Same with sexism and sapphobia."
"Pardon?"
"Homophobia, only for lesbians. Look, you don't have to burn crosses in my yard, that's too obvious. What I'm talking about is cultural racism, the assumptions that because we're an interracial couple, I'm the poor one. Or I don't talk black, it's the same kind of stereotypes as the manhating lesbian, or you need a man to be financially secure."
"Alright, I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry, you're Texan. I got used to it in Cleveland, where they just shoot you when you call the cops, then cover it up. It's just a different kind of prejudice down here, but it's like, a lot of blacks I know talk to me all ghetto because I'm black, or assume because you're white, you're automatically racist. The thing is, prejudice is about assuming, based on nothing. Just because most blacks are poor because most whites take the high-paying jobs doesn't mean that I'm poor just because I'm black. Why I had to take a business degree at a fucking farmer's college, because all the affirmative action slots were already taken, and I was paying my own way instead of the UNCF, but you're smart and empathetic. So you can learn this, you just have to listen instead of interrupting to talk over me. I'm sorry if I made you feel racist, I'm not really offended, but now you're aware of it. That's the important part."
She looked back, winked, "So, how much is this studio gonna cost me?"
;
{Still workin' on it... | null | null | Authors/Psiberzerker/Genders/Ruth/College.txt |
94,795 | Psiberzerker | The Good Parts (Milne) | Yarla, (G2F Tran. Kommen von alters)
I am to be "Resting up," for the summer trip. To the Interlaken area, this year. My father fancies himself a bit of a seemann, but so landlocked, he settles for playing out his games on the Lakes in summer. Usually the NeufzatelSee, (Lac de Neuchatel, canton of Vaud annexed by Bern, and renamed by the Germans. If you want to look it up, nowhere near the Interlaken area.) but he heard about a possible summer home in Insteltwald.
However, given the time and privacy, I am able to forgo clothing in my favorite spot by the window. The men are practicing, drilling for defense while we are away, or suffering his inspection for the trip. As you know, my favorite entertainment, yet rarely have I the opportunity for this, and must settle for the memory. I have my sternGlas so it is as if I am there, watching from just above, though I cannot hear their grunts, smell their sweat, even the ring of their steel cannot reach me.
You are still my only friend, who is willing to talk about this. The pleasure to be had, alone, denied as I am by my father. I am thirteen, have been bleeding for 3 full years, and it was nearly a century and a half since the time of Christ already. Yet he denies me all suitors. His men won't speak to me, much less touch me, and you know how he feels about my fighting. Oh, but just to watch them fight!
What we need is a good War, to give the men something to do other than practice. That is why my father is bored, and plays his naval games, he remembers the Burgundy War. The Navy is supposed to be the new power in warfare, to hear him tell it, for all he knows about sailing, and fighting at sea.
I found a candle taper works the best. Also, the point where it meets you have shown me, the slickness of the taper allows me to preserve my purity, and the finest beeswax is so much more pleasant than the tallow. Also, I have light to write, daylight though I can imagine the trouble at being seen. Like this, in the window, naked. Shamelessly abusing myself, then the men. Stopping, standing at attention as their notice spreads.
That did it. All I needed, so I can return my attention to you. How are you, I find myself refreshed. Invigorated, and excited for the trip. After this last time, to watch the men and truly enjoy it. For once, perhaps there will be men in Insteltwald, though it sounds dreadfully small, and local. Men who don't know my father, enough to fear him. Me well enough not to court me. I just want a suitor, 1 suitor, I'm too old not to know the attentions of a man.
My courier shall have a map of the route from Thun to Bern, to return your letters to me. (Just Google it.) Ask to see it, as there shall be days of delay from these extra legs. A lakenBoot from Instelweldt to Interlaken, then from Interlaken to Thun, then a carriage from Thun-to-Bern, both ways as the courier cannot have a fast horse, and carry it on the bootLegs. (Bit of a pun here, see is sea, or lake, and boot is boat. seeBoot is seaboat, but German-to-English translation) It is said, in fair summer skies to add 2 days, then the normal time to travel around Paris to the channel, to avoid tension with the Burgundese. Also a copy of Justinger's history of Bern, as you have asked about in your last letter.
With fondest memory,
Milne Alberichen, dame Baronetess of Bern
Thun
The carriage to Thun was battering, I feel beaten, and dragged over the cobbles here, awaiting the lakenBoot at the dock. My father insists on a veritable armada for the household, and his small army to train in Navy maneuvers en route, so he took the Flagship preparatory to playing his seeGames. A soldier in peacetime, I believe he sees them as Horses on the water, where one need not bother with the variations of terrain. It is flat, and therefore ideal, he may simply use a table for the field, and his toys.
I am aware, it is serious business, but my brother the heir plays with them, as toys. He has a wooden sword, a dopplehander, I may use as a proper sword as he is but 7. Like our father, he would rather ride the rocking horse, and bark orders, or play on the floor with his boats. Men are very much grown boys, with power.
I am left with a guard, Rolph Bavard auf Bayern München, charged of course with the protection of my virtue. I suppose the best suitor being Hirsch Balgen, der Jägermeister, I believe you would call a Huntsman? In charge of the estate's game, leading the hunden, and the punishment of poachers. A good rider with the most advanced Arbalest I have seen. I was able to talk with him, about it. Also a solid rider with tight leather breeches worn smooth from the saddle, and a broad back.
Under the ever watchful eye of Bavard, of course. I was able to stand close enough to smell him. The strong sweat, and leather, with a tang of blood. From his namesake, I believe Deer Gutter is how it would be said in your tongue. As he says, "You must drain it, before bringing it to town, lest the blood spoil on the way, and there is no need to carry the viscera, which I leave for the wolves."
Hunting is not fighting, and as any summer, my father will be away playing at sea. So, I may arrange a trip, under guard into the ridges and valleys overlooking these lakes. It is not as the NeufzatelSee, but cliffs, with summer snow atop, and many steep slopes deeply forested in which to get lost, perhaps in the confusion of the hunt. He has not the hounds. Hounds? Is that hunden? We have no Engelssprechen to ask, here now.
So, for my protection it may be safe to hunt with the men, and possibly escape with a man, that Hirsch particularly. Rolph is steadfast, and vigilant, but given to excitement. On the practice field, in fights he is known for both his shieldwork, and his aggressive attack, even unto over-extension, with anger. Anger? You know what I mean thus, I hope he will give into the excitement of the hunt to give chase. Balgen is as an officer, he commands the hunt, but without dogs, he may hang back as they ride forward, and perhaps find a quiet place to lay down.
He does like the look of me, as well.Lake Thun
Bavard, it seems, is jealous and can be appealed to with Reason. Having seen me with Hirsch, he talked to me on the lakeboat, and I returned that I must protect myself, as well as my detail. He knows of my wish to fight and has seen my reaction to it. As I watch the men train, he watched me watch them. Nothing inflames my heart so as a duel; in my imaginings, I can see them, instead of normal practice.
So, he agreed, not to the sword, but I have a point. The Italisch call it a Stiletto. For eating, and he agreed that it is as a knife without the point, to show me the basics of cutting a man after my virtue. Safely without an edge, but it is my first training, and I must say, I had not thought there was so much use for the hilt. As I have seen the men with their Longswords? The Norse of your island, he says, call it Claymore; they grip it by the blade, up close, and batter each other about with the hilt in armor. However, we are at peace. Therefore, armor is more something considered for war.
However, it is the basis of the sword fight. I have the pommel, which is pointed as well, for schlagen. Striking with, or holding against, a painful point. The wrist or back of hand. It seems Bavard has been to your country and does know the words of weapons and war. If not the others, as he was there as a soldier, not ambassador, he says you may remember him? And that he appreciated the look of you.
Back to practice, my pick has, as well, the quillon, bars at front and back. I had thought to protect the fingers, without an edge to slip up on; however, also to strike, catch at their blade, lock, and pry at their fingers. "Als mit die schwert," it is as the sword, yet smaller, so we may spar privately.
He is my father's man, but also I am his duty. He is to keep me from fighting and yet protect me, and agreed that these are at odds. He cannot be with me always, and I have this point which I knew not to use for my own protection. He also says I have a great natural talent; I am not sure if this is polite, he is so polite, or truth. I believe he may have let me win, cuts to his arm as he avoided bloodless cuts with the back edge of his Rondel. His Messer? Panzerpictmesser. Yes, armor knife, to stab between armor, if they are wearing, but it has an edge and guard more like a large coin than quillons. He says you have the rondel in Engelund, though you may know not that is what it is called.
This lakeboat rocks and sways with the wind and waves from wind, he says is good. For the training, the men train on the open ground, the practice field which is flat, stable and clear. However, he says that "We do not train for practice." As is to protect my virtue, I may hope to be groped alone out in the open, but the men, they tend to prefer the advantage. Of surprise, in close where he will not be seen, or the shadows of night.
Also, this valley is not flat, the flattest is the water, which is not flat, and the deck moves so that the High Ground changes. In the fight, this the men call seelegs. I have been on boats. He says it is boats, not boots, pardon my Englisch. And sea, not see.
So, it is best to train like this. He taken down poles to roll on the deck. "A fighter is as good as his footing," he is the only man of my father's here, so the boatmen will not report to him.
"Hold up your point, like this." He showed me, "This is Eins, first position, now." He pressed his wrist to mine, "You are short, but need not face strength with strength. Good, but look at your feet."
"Yes?"
"See how your hips are in line with your feet, and your shoulders. This is a weak way to stand, so I can topple you back." He held my arm and pulled me up, "Or give for you to follow through. If you give, and side step, I may follow through in surprise. Now, I give to show you. Follow through."
I did, as if to strike his head, but he was gone. "This is over extension, and gives me your back." I turned. "Einz, guard high."
We locked, wrist to wrist. "Now, stand like this." He shifted his feet, "You may half step to adjust, and change your angle. Sehen? Yes, if you push, force to force, a man will be larger, taller, stronger, it is as the high ground. If you give, and step to the side, I follow through with my force, and the weight of my sword." Guiding my hand by the wrist, "You may press down, the back of my arm to hold it, away. Or stab up, into my throat, or chin, but this releases my hand, so I may stab as well. Better to hold my hand, away with your other, so you may strike without a double kill. First, you must not die. Then, you must win, but only if you can without dying. Defense first, and always. You can not win if you die."
So, the basis of defense is he will try to grab my arm, or my bosom. Is bosom? I think so, either way, a man will hurt you with his arms and hands. He needs them to undress you, if nothing else, so your clothes are as armor. The last defense, but your arms are to aid this defense without a shield, or buckler.
You have bucklers? They are like shields, only the size of a helmet. He assures me you have the Morion style helmet in your court, as this, but with a grip in the middle. I think I will get one. So, it is like the sidepoint, to learn for the sword. My buckler is to learn for the shield. And carry, in town you do not carry a shield, any more than a spear, or a halberd. You do have these, the Halberd, is like a pole ax? Never mind, we are not to this, and as I am not to go to war, I may never learn, but I have knights. My father would never let me be a knight, to risk my value to marry a Hapsburg.
It is our secret, that I may fight. To defend my virtue, and more exciting than to watch. I see, it is exciting to him, his codpiece is uncomfortable.
So, I have a moment in Interlaken. I told them the boats sloshed my bladder, so I could write this. Bavard is. Well, he says that it is not my virtue, but when asked about his discomfort. We found a moment of privacy, for him to show me! It was longer than my hand, and very hard. It is not my virtue if I stay clothed, but quickly before I get my fingers in trouble, I must say, it was amazing. The taste, and the skin, and hairs, and everything about it. I must finish before they send a woman to look after me.
Aarmeule' schmittenHaus
Bavard is excited to teach me. He apprenticed as a Smith, in his squiredom? He misses his squire, to carry the burden of his arms over to the old abbey of Aarmeule'. Closed now, or moved to the Vincentenes. I think, yes, as apprentice knight, he also learned with a schwertSchmidt to see how they are made, and kept, fixed after fighting, and armor as well. As a guard in peace, he would be a knight in war, but most likely to defend as from a Siege. In peace, he is to punish criminals, the robbers, and thieves, as Hirsch would a poacher, who is a game thief. The Venische call him a "Mestro de Arma." He says is master of weapons.
So, he makes me a buckler, here in the Interlaken smithHaus, and a pictSchwert. Point sword? Is like my sidepoint, or a sword with no edge, just a square drawn out to a point. The Burgundisch call it Rapier? This is, but thick, and heavy, and stiff, so that it bend like the edge on a real sword, and I can feel as if I cut in with an edge. No stabbing, we practice bloodlessly, with his panzerpictMesser.
The hunter came, and picked up his sword belt to ask. "What is this?"
"My knife?"
"No, on your sword."
"Is my long knife." He showed it, and Hirsch showed his. His is more like a knife, while Bavard's is more like a sword.
Langes Messer, long knife, for the outlands. In the city, it is a sword; out here, it is a knife, like a sword. Or sword like a knife, as long as a sword, but with 1 edge. One must cut out here, and Hirsch. He has a longKnife, but ask.
"No, this." It has quillons, but 3. A third on 1 side he calls the Nail. "Nagel." So, while in the smithHaus, he make a guard, and nagel for Hirsch's knife, jagdMesser mitt Nagel. I must say, watching and writing not so much them working together, but pulling out their knives to compare. Bavard without his shirt, his arm thick with blood from the hammer, and the heat of the forge. I imagine them, pulling out their, other knives. To compare, I wonder who's is longer. Who's is thicker, and it would be nice to have both, in each hand to compare.
I have 2 hands, and after all, there are 2 of them.
But now I must see what I can do with a buckler, and schlagerSchwert.
I have him add a nagel, a nail bent over my knuckle like the longKnife, and a ring up to protect my finger, looped over the guard.In contrast to say Morea, which is still in the Dark Ages and fighting a Cold Crusade/Jihad over the bones of ancient Greece. So, it's like a Cinquedea showing up on Antekithera, when it's basically a sword exclusively for knife fights in the back alleys of Venice. However, you have sailors to Crete (which is part of Venice) who just might have been in back alley knife fights there. So, a Cinquedea might just show up, but everyone is going to point and say "WTF is that?" Like the Nagel on a sword-hilted Messer. The langMesser is basically the German equivalent and was common through the late Middle Ages, with fencing schools for the Nobles like Bavard. However, it was also popular with common men and the middle class, like a side-court (Baron/Countess) Jägermeister. Not just nobles, but it's "Not a sword." It's a knife, with a knife-like grip and sword-like hilt, including the distinctive Nagel or "Nail" to protect the knuckles from parrying with the flat. As such, it varied from Hirche's deer gutter to Bavard's "Hanger," a broad straight saber with a semi-sharpened back edge at the tip for thrusting (on horseback) as well as hacking and slashing.
Here, they're literally at the cutting edge of Renaissance weapons and armor. Marovingen Swiss confederates at cold-war with the French, between Germany and Italy about to marry (back) into the Habsburgs, this generation. So, they already have Estocs (English Tuck sword, or in Italian Espada de Stocco) and proto-rapiers. Her first sword is basically drawn out square to a blunt tip and tempered to flex, instead of stab or shatter on a real blade. Or "Schlager" in German, to strike and bend instead of sink into flesh. Not unlike a fencing foil, only for the Leichtanhaur school of Germany, which Bavard is a master in.
Brienz Lake
So, Bavard says I am "Good." With instruction, the pommel is low on the pictSchwert. So, I have more with which to use it, on his arm and his hilt when we push at the wrists. For the angle, give to come in from the side or take his back.
He also showed me, without the buckler, how to use it with the blade in hand. Only without a blade, and mine does swing, as it is to bend. Like a hammer, but as this, I have the handle up. Like the dagger, to parry with, so when I lose or throw the buckler for distraction, I can close with the sword as a hammer. He showed me this with his knife, and Hirsch also, to see them spar as if for me.
For me to see, but I like this, from having no suitor to two, they are jealous, and may come to a real fight for me. Which is, I must say, exciting to imagine, who will win. Bavard, he is a trained Knight. Perhaps on horses, they both ride, and Hirsch cannot use his Arbalest there. That would not be a fight. "Thump!" Dead, skip off hand and hand for the trees. I like him better. Rolph is so proper and polite. Hirsch is more like a real person. You read the stories, and they are about Bavard. They do not write them for the Jäger. The Waldmann? Feller, I know not what you call this, nor could I ask, writing on such subjects, but the men of the outlands.
I like them. Bavard is like my brother. Will be, he is just starting, while Bavard has learned all already. Hirsch is not, and I cannot wait to hunt. With him, get alone with him, and pull his Messer out of his leather breeches. He wears these, instead of the slashed doublets and codpiece which is the fashion this year.
I hope it is just this year and not a lasting fashion, for they are not easy to get into, and I suppose they do protect in fights, but I don't want a man for fighting. I want to fight, and a Mann für ficken. This, I know not, if there is a word for, in English.
I have packed riding breeches from last summer. Not as worn, but even tighter in the seat and between my legs. I will have to see if they will stretch, wet them, and see how Hirsch likes their fit. Or to make some for me, we can go get the deerskin together and eat venison by the fire. I just want to be with Hirsch, but if it came to a fight, it would go to Bavard. Not to marry, just for affairs. I believe, yes, affairs. I am old enough for affairs, but after Bavard got uncomfortable from practice, I milked out the problem, but I thought of Hirsch.
Doing this with Hirch, not on a sickening tilting deck, in the ropeHaus, but out on the hunt. With him, I like this. He is the Hart, a man should hunt the Fraulein, but I am stalking the Hart. Hunting the Hunter, you see? It is very exciting, but this is a shorter trip, to Insteltwald. A smaller boat, and Fischermann, but it is getting dark the second day. A good sunset, between the ridges of the valley, over the waters of the lake as we turn, and they are lighting fires. Not lamps, but fires to see in the evening, and their fisherboats to come in. No Leuchtturm, either.
It is small, but closer to the outlands. The trees, and the deer to hunt with my Hirsch. My hart. To hunt my hunter.
Wish me luck, I hope these days' ramblings find you well.
Milna
Insteltwald
He told me a story, by the shore. Slowly, so I could write it down. I asked him about Deer, for they are seen as gentle creatures, graceful, and quick.
"Gentle, no. I have seen the wolves corner a stag in the rocks. Unable to flee, he reared like a warhorse, kicking and stomping. At their flanks and their heads, they whined in pain and fled. A little way, to circle back, their Alpha. You know this? Lord Wolf, they follow him. It was not until the stag came down, head first, and drove the lordwolf off his feet. He ran, and the pack ran with him. They are beautiful, graceful and quick."
I looked up when he pulled at a curl of my hair, blown free of my braid from the trip, and it went straight in his fingers. Slipped out to hang back at my cheek.
"Some men think that this means weakness."
Then Bavard came to break it up.
I had my sword with me, so I got up. "All right," backed to the corner of the boat. It comes to an end, like a corner.
This man, my Jäger, he hunts stags, with dogs.
Bavard had been peening a doppelhander. I'm sorry, I must say, there is a sword, longsword, then there is a double-handled sword. He unrolled them, this is the longest, and I took breaks while he beat on the hilt, the bottom grip, and peened down the pommel. It was such a time, when Hirsh. I should say he made up my mind.
This one had the crossguard and rings like the figure of 8 on either side. Like Nagel, only 2 of them, and 2 more quillen up from the second handle. It has a 2-handed handle, another handle, and spikes like a side dagger at the bottom of the sword-sized blade.
He had trained me against a spear, or a staff wrapped in leather as a spear, but this was like a pike, with all the parts of a sword.
"Ocht." The 8th thing he showed me, or Ox with two hands, high guard held by the pommel with his other fist up at the base of the sword blade. Hilt in the middle, it was like a shield.
I feigned low, to stab high under, but he was too fast. He did not attack, merely stopped my slashes and caught the sword between the guard and one of the handles. He stepped in to push me back, so desperate, I dropped to grip the pommel and swung it back to hold the hilt, by the blade like he did. Up close, it drew his sword down, and he even slipped his fist up to the guard. Slapped me sideways, stepping out to push me by the arm, pinned to my side so I had to stumble out to the rail. I almost fell over the side, but the deck dipped, from my weight, and him following.
This is not a ship, this is a boat, moored to the high shore like a dock, but to posts driven into the ground? The ground, yes, on the side of the lake. They have a landing, but no dock, a ship would have to send boats. Rather than accept the low ground, I jumped up on the side, then the back, on my knees, and scrambled to my feet before he could follow.
He was jealous, angry, he hurt me, charged with my protection, but he could have killed my hart. Told my father what he did, touched me, and almost tried to kiss me. He could be skinned, then burned to death for less. My family takes discipline very seriously, and all his men know how he cares for his daughter. Of course, he could have turned the blade and sank the edge between my ribs, clean through my arm had he wanted to, cornered as I was, but Hirsch ran away.
"Coward, would hurt a girl. Come on, then. If you think you can hurt me up here."
I have the high ground, and this is a lot of steel. I have the lighter sword and enough reach, he has to come up the rail and onto shore with the boat tilting lower as he moves out.
He lost his temper. "Rh!" took the rail with a step and jumped, but to one leg. One foot on shore, and I managed to get the tip in under the Quillon. In front, to slap and slash out to the tip down his knuckles, all 8.
"Ocht!"
"Ghr!" he held fast, but slapped down with the flat. I jumped back, but that gave him the opening to step in, with both feet on shore.
I feigned for him to parry, he lunged out in riposte, but I had seen him fight. Train with all of the men, for years. He was jealous, angry, and over-extended.
"TWIP!" the sword sang, and snapped across his eyes, bounced off his nose, and I plucked my point from my belt.By the round blade, I could kill him. My father would hear how he attacked me, see the bruise from the welt on my arm, and not deny that I can, in fact, fight now. I stepped around him, behind him, trying to recover his footing, which he had never had.
A fighter is only as good as his footing. I put the handle of my knife to the back of his knee and pushed him to kneel, pressed the ring on the front of my guard to the side of his throat, and pulled his back to my chest.
"Yield."
He dropped it.
Hartmann (f/M Flashback)
"Laufen, Hartmann." My lady caught me.
"I did not run far."
"Good, come here. Come to me, my rabbit man. I think I will call you my rabbit man. Gutter is so common and dirty for my huntmaster."
"My lady."
"I am not yours, you are mine."
"Yes, my lady."
"I won you, did you see? You saw how I defended your honor."
"Yes, my lady."
"Milne, I am not yours."
"Yes, Milne."
"Come with me, you know this place?" Behind the closen fishhaus.
"Yes, lady."
"Let me see this. Oh, my hart!" Her fingers felt strong and calloused. "Oh, Hirsch! What is this?"
"My foreskin?" She pulled it back.
From my "Pommel," that was the last thing I heard her say before she filled her mouth to the top of her fist.
"My," no, not her. "God!" She is not mine, I am hers. "Oh, my god!"
Milne (f, now. Mit Her mann.)
His knife was smaller in the smithhaus. His handle. It is not two-handed, but hand and mouth! So much milk, and gamier? Is it what he eats? I ate it hungrily, fast before Bavard recovered his courage.
I beat him. I could have killed him, but I think I will keep him. For a while, but even my bunny's fur is so much darker and stronger, and the smell of him clung in my nose for quite a while as Majordomo showed us to the cottage, and I got undressed in my room.
It is small, but father will be out before light, as he orders, to be back on the water at the break of day. Oh, but my bunny. My scared little rabbit man, run rabbit run! His flanks and sides heaving for breath, panting like the hounds, but I am the wolf. Wolfsfra, the dameWolf? Not his lady, he is my hart, my prey, mine mann.
I fell away to blissful dreams of woods and bushes, chasing him to hide. Panting and hearing his breaths. In the cold, not the snow, but the cloud of it, then fleeing higher. To see his tracks and climb higher, to get the high ground. Above him, then running for the cliffs, like the sledge for the loggenMann. Mountain men, timbermen? To bring down trees in winter, without the sledge or the ox to drag it, leaping from the cliff, pouncing to catch him. Crouching, panting with fear.
Hunting mine jager, my deer, my bunnyMann.
In the morning, I have never awoken to a fresher feeling, like the spring and the frigid melt from the mountains rushing down to the lake. We have this here? I do not remember from the map to the hook, the nail bent around the landing of InsteltWald.
"Bavard? Where is my Master of Weapons?"
"I will find him, my lady."
"Damme! I am not yours. Tell the men it's just Lady, and you are mine until the Baron returns, or he will hear of it."
"Yes, Damme." He clicked his heels and bowed out of the door, so I could let the sheet, blanket, and down-filled coverlet off of my shoulders to the cool morning air, thick, heavy, and rich with water from the lake, as it was last night, but not as warm.
I pulled on some underclothes and started on the girdle, the high one to hold up my chest, before he returned.
"Ah, my mann. Come in." I turned, "Can you pull these laces and knot them at the top? Don't touch me, you don't have to touch the girdle, except to tie them."
"Your nurse comes."
"I'm fine."
"Father's orders, to check you."
"Uh! Leave me then, so I may get ready to receive her. Get all the guards to meet me out front in the yard."
"My,"
"I," he recoiled from the back of my fist across his cheek. "Am not yours! Go now and make the arrangements." He had his chance to win me last night.
"Yes, Milne."
"Damme!"
"Yes, damme." He pulled the door behind him.
He lost his temper, so I gave it to my mann.
"Deer," my bunnymann.
I have to take off the bloomers, you call them these? Then put on an underslip for modesty. I do not want modesty, but my father. You have this, handMaden to serve you with the moon? I know not your phase, but the blood moon. I am a quarter waxing, but it is almost full.
"My lady, I am sorry, but I must." Meek and fearful.
"Bavard told him." She lowered her eyes, but I saw a nod. "I'll beat it out of him later." I am a lady. I beat the best of his men. I am better than the best of my father's men, not him. He is not that old and has seen war. I will not defy him, so I let her take my feet and hold them on her shoulders. Facing the window, she holds up my skirt and checks.
"How is he?"
"Bavard, or Hart. I mean my Huntsmaster?"
"You have," she looks down, slip hanging again, and feet back on the floor. "Seen both of them?"
"Bavard is well tempered and has stamina. Hirsh is long, thick, and has the skin."
"Of his birth?"
"Yes."
"He is not Juden?"
"He is Romansh." {Romance language. The romance language for this part of the German Alps. Also, the swarthy bastards that speak it here. Since the Roman empire came through on the way to Germania to fight Teutonic Tribes, before the Franks came down here, the Merovingen line, and Hapsburg castle was built in Swabia.} "From Airolo." He told me this, in the smithhaus, Interlaken.
"Hirsch Airolo."
"Yes," I covered my laugh, "But I call him my rabbitMann."
"Why is this?"
"Because he runs, and I chase him like the she-wolf!"
"And then?"
"I caught him, and stripped his flanks, and tasted his blood."
"His, blood?"
"Well, the milk of his loins. Have you tasted this?"
"The man milk? Yes."
"I milked him, not as a cow, but as a man."
"I like this," she made a milking motion, "Playing the milkmaid."
"Who with?"
"My husband." She turned, red-faced.
"Who else?"
"You will not tell?"
"You will not tell my father?"
"I must." Fear.
"Tell him I kissed him."
"He will know."
"Yes, but not where. I did, I kissed him. Just say this, she kissed him."
"Yes, my lady."
"Say it to me, as you will say it to him."
"You kissed him." She nodded.
"No, as if I am him. My father, the Baron."
"He may kill me."
"I will do worse. Don't be afraid," of him, "he will not know unless you show it on your face. Now, tell me, what has my daughter been doing?"
"She beat her Guard, und then she kissed the huntsMaster, my lord."
"Yes, say it again, so that I believe it. If I believe it, my father will."
"She beat your Guard, and then she kissed the huntsMaster, my lord."
"Yes, this is good. Go now, and practice until he returns. And put out my riding breeches. I think I will go for a hunt, after I inspect my guard."
"Yes, my lady."
"Remember to say it."
"She beat your Guard, then she kissed the huntsMaster, my lord."
She closed the door.
Bavard (f/M Domm NS)
I swore to my Lord that she beat me, with witnesses, and he cuffed me severely until his arm tired, then cuffed me with his offhand until it regained its temper.
"How long have you been teaching her?"
"To fight? The last day and a half, since we left Thun on the lakenBoot."
"And she beat you?"
"Not on level ground, Lord. She had the high ground and took advantage of it to gain my back, as I taught her." I added, "She is your daughter."
"Yes, she is." He left, then I was summoned, and as ordered gathered the guard for her inspection.
I did not tell him of the jagrMeister. Failing so in my duty, he would have me packed through the bind with embers until I cooked from the inside out. {Executed, by shoving red hot coals up his ass. The family has been escalating since Vlad Tepech. AKA lord Drakul of Transylvania.}
"Your men." I bowed. "You are dressed for riding."
"I have sent for a horse, to be prepared."
"We did not bring your saddle."
"They have saddles. Now, who is your best?"
"Mann?"
"Yes, your second. If you would choose a man as champion."
"I am your champion."
"No, you are now my second. Would you like to try me again?"
"No, my." I cannot beat her without hurting her, which would get me killed.
"Damme. Just damme."
"Yes, damme."
"Who?"
"Venifzish," I snapped.
"Yes, Meister."
"Spar with me."
"No, spar with me. Bavard, is there a smithhaus here?"
"Yes, Damme."
"Good, then find it, and make me a sword."
I bit my teeth together. "What kind of sword?"
"Like this, only stiff as my sidepoint, and long as a longsword."
"Eztoken?"
"What is thus?"
"As you say, like your striker, except two-handed. What sort of hilt?"
"Like your knife, your sword knife? Yes, with nagel. Give it to me."
I drew it, halfsword to offer her the handle.
"Yes, like this. Hartmann?"
"Jawohl?""Take this, he can make another. Do you know how to use it?"
"No, lady."
"Then learn." She turned, "Are you Veni?"
"Venitzio." He bowed.
"Romansh?"
"Venitzi," he nodded.
"That is a buckler, take it off. HartMann."
"Why do you call him rabbit?"
"I thought I told you to go find the forge."
"I am your shield."
"Then have them send me a shield. The guards are here, are we under attack?"
"No, my."
"GO! Now. I do not need you any longer."
"Yes, damme."
"Talk with me a moment. You two, show each other what you have."
"Yes," we walked, a ways. Steel rang behind us. "Damme?"
"You will not tell my father."
"I must."
"If you tell him, he will not kill me, and I will not kill you until you have suffered enough to satisfy me! Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Good, now go make me a sword." She patted my rump like a horse.
Milne
My inspection consisted of testing my men, and I began training my hart. Into a stag, a fighting deer one day, but he started out a rabbit. A coward, and no man of mine would stay a coward. None were as good as Bavard, of course. Who else would my father charge with my protection? Guarding my dignity, threatened with horrors to ensure his loyalty, but I seduced him.
He is impetuous, and jealous, but a good fighter. He just needs to keep his temper, too easy to taunt into giving up his advantage. Unsuitable to me, but a good trainer. Also, not so impressive in the codpiece. Trimmed, as is the custom of the Habsberg Catholics. {The House of Austria, currently consolidating with Prussia, and Hungary. The Holy Roman Emperor is in Buda/pecht. Not Rome, Venice, and Milan were greater Imperial Powers at the time.} He came back with my Estokensword, a true sword, stiff and strong yet edgeless.
However, his second Venifzio has a strange style, and sword. As with Hartmann's Knife, now sword hilted. It is broad, but double-edged, and comes to a "Slashing tip."
"Chinkwadea," he calls it, for it is "Five fingers" wide, and as long as his arm. I ask him where he learned to fight like this. "Candy." He showed me, holding it up, along his forearm. "The Cretans that follow the Morean Queen fight thus." Like a shield, with the buckler. Very defensive, as I beat at them with my schlager, and the back of Bavard's knife. He is very good, but I dance around him, so he can not come close enough to strike, even scratch at my arm with his wedge of a sword. This cuts off his reach further, but then Bavard returned with my blade.
"Where is the hilt?"
"Working on it, the steel has to anneal to work." The men took a break, and some water. At the shore of the harbor, where I could see my father's fisher fleet playing at Seespiel.
"I would like a ring, like this." I held up the side of my practice sword, "And this." On the quillion, "A nail on the other side."
"Yes, damme." He returned to the forge.
"Now, you two. Veni, show my Hart how to fight, with his knife." I may have my shield make me one of those, sword/daggers. Chinkwadia. I like the edgeless swords, for killing, but sometimes one must cut, and that can cut. Well, biting into the edge of a shield, then flipping back to block by the flat. Broad flat, and stiff for the heavy steel, though it looks more like some of the bronze swords in the Treatices. I remember, he said Kretan, was that not Greece? "Veni?"
"Yis, Countess." As if the Burgundy ladies, I waved it off. "You have been to Krete?"
"Yis, Countess."
"Minos?"
"No, Candese. I was born in Candy." {Chania. Under Venetian occupation.} "I have a book. Of my father's, before he was killed."
"It has a map?"
"Of Candy. My father was. As sir Bavard, a." he hammered.
"SchwertSchmidt?"
"Yes, he had a wife, who was killed, then my mother. His first wife was Ozmondes. Made a woman by the enchantress."
"This is starting to sound like a fairy tale."
"It is my family history. She could not give him children, but Azisa Pestous, di Pori was a boy before she took him. Married him, and made him her wife."
"What is this?"
"It is all in her book, zie chronicle auf Azisa Pestous di Pori." {*}
"And this enchantress?"
"She is, Medea y Manawat."
"Is?"
"Yes, she yet rules, the Kithera, y Pori."
"What is this Pori?"
"A rock, or 2. I have not seen, it is Greece. The last of old Greece, claimed by the Morean. Medea y Manawat, queen of Whores."
I had him translate it into Latin, as it was written in Ozmonden Turkish of the Barbers. A guttural language, I know not, but he is fluent in. I will send it, with my letters, to hide my sexploits from the watchful eye of my father. Fortunately, his English is bad, and gives him a headache to read.
"So," break over, "Let me see this Chinkwadia."
"Cinquedea." I nodded.
"How do you use this?" I flipped back, along my forearm, but the ferrules bit into it. I had no bracer like his, but I see the hands, and arms are the first to get cut, in a sword fight. Or knife fight, he could be the best knife fighter among us, but this. This is a sword, for a knife fight. So, I paired with the long knife, I took from Bavard, and loaned him my striker-sword.
"Yis,"
"Ah!" He is very good, got my knuckles, so I flipped it over, and stepped back to switch feet. Knife high, in Ox. Like high guard, but turned, to point at him.
"Fiorenza?"
"Vas?"
"This guard." he mimicked me, only with the buckler instead of dagger. "How they teach in Fiorenza."
"Show me."
{* Continuity Note: Basically the first half of \Pori. Before the narrative shifts to Marino's PoV. Also, the "Coincidence" of Jiankarlo's son being here, with a Cinquedea isn't. The Basiatus had to sail to Venice, then Oberlund to the alps, to breed a backup plan while Marina, and Marino were maintaining Pori, and building the fleet.}
Leonard, the Tailor of Candy {(Kraftwerk - Boing Boom Tschak (Electric Cafe'))}
So, I went to the forge after practice. That countess had eyes for the Hunter, Hartmann, but worked up her blood while we trained. She picked up the Florentine style quickly, and took my back sword. {Not to be confused for a Backsword, he wears the Cinquedea across the small of his back} and sent me to get the Chronicle from my things.
I miss the smell of the forge, the heat, and ring of steel on steel. It reminds me of home, my father, in Candy. Here, they call me Sneider, and Venetian. Because I came from the court of Venice, though I am more properly a merchant of Candy.
This Rolph, is a good man. Stripped to the waist, his fine slashed, and bloused hose discarded for thick leathers, and an apron. His hammer arm, he swings it by hand, bouncing it with sparks, and tapping it on the anvil to keep rhythm, glistening with sweat.
"Da, Schneider?" He set the bar back in the coals, and the smithboy works the bellows.
I leaned from the open doorway, "She took my sword." I showed him my empty belt, "You think you could make me another?"
"I am a knight, not a common blacksmith."
"She said: 'Tell him. To make you a new one,' when she took it."
"She has made a habit of that, lately."
My family, here they do not have the Kretan tradition of Philator. He does not know my father, but I would not mind. A man like this, in other circumstances. I am too old anyway, but. I remember his stories, of his Maestro, and I have not known a love like this. Perhaps in another time, but she wastes him. Casting him aside for that coward.
He nodded, "You are a good fighter, for a tailor."
I laughed, "Merchant. I was, gentleman, you have this, here? My father, would have been a prince, in your ranks, but I am illegitimate. He did not marry my mother." Not with his wives, it is. Complex. "Sewing is more of a hobby."
"Bastard." He nodded, "Well, you are a good fighter, for a merchant sailor."
"The nature of the seas. Do you know of Crete?"
"Old Greece?"
"Old Greece is gone, but the lands are still there, and her people yet survive. Their seas, Archipelago, it is war. Always war, the navies change, but the war does not end. As it was for the Greeks, the Athenians, Spartans, Persians, and Minoans."
"The Persians, yes I have heard of, three hundred Spartans."
"Thermopylae." Old story, gets around. "Now, it is the Ottomans, and the Moreani." The army, and navy must have grown from so much retelling...
"And the Venetians."
"Yes, we hold Crete, but are fought back to Candia, and Dalmatia."
"Yes, yes. My lord, he studies the navy."
"Yeah, well he's a Cavalryman. I have seen him play Admiral, it is a hobby, like sewing."
"You will not disrespect your Baron." He put down the hammer, but raised the hot tongs in menace.
"He is your Baron, not mine. I have heard stories, yes? Of his dungeon, and the tortures he has for those who defy him?" I looked over at the forge. "That looks hot enough."
He picked up his hammer, "You are not afraid?" Fished the hilt out with a long pair of tongs.
"Where I come from?" I shook my head. "No."
Milne
So, I had my Hart make me a bracer, and a sheath. For my wedge sword, though I decided to carry it on my thigh, as a knife. He took my point, to push through the thick leather, and also sewed a vest for me. With the Tailor of Candy. Not Venifzio, as my father called him, but from Candy, Crete. Together, they added a loop under my arm, to hang the Tuck sword from. This is what Bavard says you call these, like my sword, or the Claymore without an edge? It is very nice, the reach makes up for my arms, it is light at the tip, and has a good flat pommel to grip, or bend to the enemy's arm.
I like this, it is good in 1 hand, or I may hang my buckler from my sidearm without the sword.They are heavy, together, but there is no need for the sword, especially around this small town where there are no robbers, and I have a minimal entourage. The least I can get away with, Bavard as my shadow, my Hart, and the tailor. The latish Mann also chatting with Hart in Romansh. The 4 of us would be a formidable force were there something to fight, but I settle for a tour of the land.
Steeply wooded, and with Jackal, Wolven, even Beren. Bern has bears on the pennants, and in cages, but out here wild, and very dangerous. Too steeply wooded to ride, but a good view, and Veni knows the trails. Not as a hunter, he does not hunt, he is a tailor and merchantmann, but a good fighter, with war stories of pirates. Corsairs and Moreans, which sound wild, vicious, and obviously larger than life. The woman, beating a score and dozen marines into submission, with an estoc and whip, the handle shod with a lead pommel like "A Flying Mace," to make Bavard laugh.
They warmed to each other, the German, Cretan, and Romansh. My bunny rabbit, but to be in the company of men, as I have dreamed all my life. Free, and to explore at my beck and call. I told my father, "You command, see? I will look after the lands." Steep as they are, and high, but a good view over the lake, the valley, cliffs across it, and sun shining on the bright snowy slope, even higher. In the heat of the day, only cooler. We stop, for the men to catch their breath, even as I wish to drive them to the snow.
So, we play, knife and dagger. With bucklers, the shields, and longswords, Hart's ax against trees, always circling for high ground. Vinese with Bavard, they are well matched, whilst I go easy on my Hart, I wish not to hurt him. It is exciting, and on a break, to climb higher I took the tailor aside to whisper. For him to draw Bavard out. Off, "Aus, un auf." How to taunt him, to give chase as the Hart, to have some time alone with mine. He laughed, said he would not mind such time with Bavard. He shrugged, pouted with his lips, "He is a fighter, not a lover, but. Huh!"
He likes the look of him. I giggled, like a girl. "Truly, thus?"
"I like men," he nodded, "And women, but he is. So strong, and great, and clean, and fair."
"Like a lady?" He hit my arm. "Ow!"
"A lady like you. I would not mind. If he would be my lady."
"He is a man!"
"I know, right? But, a man can lay like a lady. Or I can play the lady for him."
"Pervert?" I had to laugh, but it got my blood up, "How is. Would that be, without." I don't even know the word, "The place, of a lady."
"Vagina?" Yes, for sheathe, or scabbard, I had forgotten. "In the bind, or betwixt the thighs is traditional."
"Is not, he is Catholic."
"It is, as Roman Catholic with Habslund Catholic?"
"Yes, it is sin."
"I forget, how it is in Europe. On my island, it is tradition, so I should play the lady."
"I do not think he would go for that, either."
"You never can tell, and he seems, about to burst his breeches."
"He is not so great."
"Little?"
"The smallest I have seen." Of the two, which made me curious. I grinned, "You have your blood up?"
"I could, readily."
"For a lady?" A big tree, Bavard lecturing, barely paying attention to the trail. "Help me with this." The sword is too long under my arm, but I can grip the blade. Flat, but very thick in a diamond, it takes both hands to draw it out, and hang from a branch. "Come here, let me see this." Sitting on a root, and pulling at the laces. "Yes, my man. My tailor, what fine breeches you have, and. Oh!" Not cut. I do not like this, cut like Bavard. It is unnatural, and I like the skin, to slip off his pommel. "Mh!" I know not, whether it helps his flavor, like my Hart, but he is keeping my shield busy.
"Milna, milady?"
"Mh?" Hold his hips, so he doesn't get away. "Grawlk, guh! Kuh, khaAH!" Too deep, but I pulled him back, but the handle, so his skin winked like an eye, then pushed it back from his pommel with my lips. Felt under it with my tongue, and the wrinkles in the cleft. The ridges on either side, coming together.
He grunted, and milked into my hungry mouth, I drank it to the last drop, gulping, and milking underneath with my thumb.
Bavard looked down, jealously. "Was?" I wiped the corners of my mouth with my thumbs, but it was just drool. "I kept my breeches on, it is not my virtue. Ready to go on?"
He is very jealous, but I do not think, he will kill the Vinese. I do not think he can. So, he will preserve my Hart, until he can defend himself. | null | null | Authors/Psiberzerker/Generations/Fantasy/The Good Parts (Milne).txt |
95,127 | VX6100 | Munich Chapter 1 | Years ago, when I was a poor student traveling in Europe, I spent several months in Munich. It was the summertime, and Munich is a great city for the summer, with its shaded lanes and gardens. After a week in a hostel, I found a room in a small hotel on the west side of the city. The hotel had a compact bar on the first floor and a number of inexpensive rooms on the floors above. The concierge was a middle-aged woman named Gerda who was quite a shrew and ruled the house with an iron hand. She had the assistance of Dieter, who served as her bartender and general factotum, and two women who helped prepare the breakfasts for guests and clean the rooms.
One of the women, Renata, was Gerda's age and served as her friend and confidant as well as helper. She was very small and delicate and dressed very primly. The other was a tall, thin Ukrainian girl who everyone called "Putzi," not being able to quite pronounce her real name. She spoke little German, and if you tried to engage her in conversation, she simply said "Ja, ja" with a smile on her plain face.
Dieter was quite good-looking in a Nordic way. Tall and blonde with an engaging smile and ready wit, Dieter was popular with everyone but Gerda. He was especially popular with the women who frequented the bar. He would often leave with one at closing time, and more than once, I saw him going upstairs with an attractive guest. Once, as I watched him escort a drunken guest up the stairs, I saw him reach around and slap her buttocks. She giggled, and Dieter looked back at me and winked.
Dieter's insouciance did not play well with Gerda. He was often treated to screaming diatribes from her, which he simply ignored, which would make her angrier still. She often called him an "aufreisser" (literally a fucker or a cocksman) for his randy ways. I learned to regard these events as just part of the charm of living at the Hotel Muencher-Abend."Oh Willie, you are so kind," she said, looking up at me. "Have some more brandy." She quickly refilled my glass with another strong tot of brandy and then proceeded to wipe her eyes and compose herself. As she did so, I studied her face carefully. It was framed by short blond hair that was gray at the temples. Her complexion was florid, and her cheeks rosy. Her full lips had a deep red lipstick which was slightly smeared, and her mascara was running from her tears. Suddenly, I found this matronly and disheveled woman unbelievably erotic. I don't know what gave me the courage, perhaps it was Dieter's remark about her being a "horny slut" and perhaps it was my own need to have a physical relationship with a woman, any woman. But I suddenly stood and grabbed Gerda by the shoulders. I stepped forward and pressed my body against hers as she sat on the bar stool. "Willie, what are you doing?" she gasped, her eyes wide with surprise. She started to say something else, and I impulsively stopped her with a kiss. At first, her body was rigid, and then I suddenly felt it relax. Her mouth opened to my kiss, and I slid my tongue along her lips. Gerda let out a low moan. I pushed myself between her knees as she sat on the bar stool and kept up the kiss. I suddenly felt her hand on my lower back, pressing my groin into hers. I took one of my hands and began to massage her fat breast through her dress. Gerda threw her head back and sat with eyes closed as I massaged her large breast and covered her neck and shoulders with wet kisses. She had on a heavy brassiere, but even so, I could feel the nipple stiffening under my palm. Suddenly, she pushed me back. I was afraid at first that she was going to tell me off, but instead, she reached down to the hem of her dress and pulled it up to her waist. In a practiced motion, she hooked her thumbs in her panty and panty hose and pulled them down over her plump thighs. I watched in wonder as she kicked off her high-heeled shoes and pulled the panty hose free. With a smile, she hoisted herself back on the bar stool and pulled her dress up to her waist. I was mesmerized by the sight of her plump thighs that led to a plump round belly, the bottom of which was shrouded by a thick bush of hair. To say I was excited is an understatement. Here was my first real woman, who was going to fuck me out of her desire and not mine. Gerda started to unbutton the buttons on the front of her dress. I stepped closer and pushed the top of the dress down, exposing a black brassiere. Gerda looked at me with a lust-filled face while she reached behind her and unclasped the brassiere, freeing two magnificent melon-like tits with large brown aureoles. Then she began tugging at my belt, undoing it and quickly unzipping my pants. My cock was like an iron bar, and my underpants were already wet with pre-cum. Gerda reached in my underpants and grabbed my cock. I saw her eyes go wide with interest as she gauged my size. Over the years, I had noticed that I was somewhat bigger than the average guy in gym class, but I was unaware of the potential of being larger than average. After all, when your main source of sex ed is porno, you begin to believe that everyone is well-endowed. I wasn't huge, but I was a good 8 inches when erect and quite thick, as thick as her wrist. "Oh Willie, this is a nice surprise! What a nice cock you have." She held her hand to her mouth and spit on her fingers and then proceeded to rub her saliva on my cock head. Then she grabbed my buttocks with one hand and guided my cock to her cunt with the other. "Fichte mir, Willie, fichte mir!" she exclaimed as she pushed me forward. I felt a moment of resistance and then suddenly my cock was encased in her warm pussy. I was near to swooning with the sensation of her large tits on my chest and her pussy clasping my cock. I tongue-fucked her mouth and began to rapidly push my cock in and out of her pussy. All the time, she was moaning and clenching my buttocks with both hands. Suddenly, she put her hand behind my head and pulled me into an even deeper kiss as she wrapped her legs around my sides and drummed on my buttocks with her heels. I felt her pussy begin to clasp my cock like a milking hand, and suddenly, she screamed out "I am cumming, Willie, fuck me hard!" I was in a frenzy as I jackhammered her cunt, and then I exploded. It felt as if my whole body was trying to explode through my cock. I was pumping months of come into her cunt, and I could feel it leaking out the sides of her pussy and drenching the bar stool my balls were now resting on. We stood glued together for a moment, and then Gerda pushed me back and stepped off the stool. She slipped on her high heels and picked up her panty hose and panties from the floor. She used the panties to wipe our juices off the bar stool and then held them between her thighs to soak up the cum that was flowing out of her cunt. "Come, Willie, bring the brandy," Gerda said and marched toward the spiral staircase that led to the upper floors of the hotel. I pulled up my jeans and zipped them, grabbed the brandy bottle, and followed her up the stairs. Her dress was still around her waist, and I watched her swing her buttocks side to side as she climbed the stairs. To my surprise, the sight of her round buttocks obscenely swaying up the stairs started to make me hard again. So soon after cumming, my erection was slightly painful. But I knew how to fix that. I followed Gerda to the third floor, where her own apartments were. As soon as we were in the door, I grabbed her and began to fondle her fat buttocks and pluck at her nipples. I pressed my erection into her belly, and she laughed and said, "What a stallion you are, Willie. I never guessed! But wait here while I clean up, and we will have some more fun!" With that, she left for the bathroom, emerging moments later in a white peignoir and her high heels. She had washed her face and reapplied her lipstick. "It was fun in the bar, Willie, but it is more relaxing in bed. Come with me." She took my hand and led me down a short hallway to her bedroom. Inside was a double bed covered with a pink satin comforter. Gerda reclined on the comforter, facing me. Her heavy melons sagged against the bed, and the filmy negligee with a split down the front showed her form to perfection. She was a robust woman with heavy wide hips and plump thighs that tapered down to dimpled knees. The triangle of hair at the junction of her thighs was thick, the brown hair mixed with gray. Her calves were delicate, and her ankles beautiful. "Take off your clothes and come here, Willie," she said and waved with her hand for me to step forward. I tore off my shirt and dropped my jeans and underpants in a pile on the floor. I stepped forward until my thighs brushed up against the bed. Gerda reached out and cupped her hand around my balls, weighing them like she would wurst at the Victualenmarkt. Suddenly, she leaned forward and engulfed the head of my prick in her mouth. The sight of her red lips and the warm suction of her mouth caused my prick to suddenly go from semi-hard to rock hard. She mewed in delight as she felt it grow in her mouth. She let go of the head of my prick and ran her tongue along the big vein on the bottom of it, all the while looking into my eyes with a salacious grin. She then sucked me back between her lips as her hand began to stroke my cock vigorously. She parted her thighs and placed the foot of her upper leg on the bed behind her other knee. She reached down with her free hand and began to stroke her pussy lips. Instinctively, I pushed my cock forward into her mouth and held her head with one hand while I fondled one of her nipples with the other. Gerda removed her mouth from my cock for a moment and said in a husky voice: "Don't be so gentle with my nipples, Willie. Pinch them, make me cry with pain. I like that." This was certainly a novel idea to me, but I did as she instructed. I pinched a nipple lightly and mumbled "harder" around my prick. I took the turgid, springy flesh between my thumb and forefinger and pinched hard. She moaned deeply, and her head began to bob up and down wildly on my prick while she rubbed her pussy frantically. I pinched again, and I began to feel a strong suction on my prick head. Then she moved her head forward and swallowed my whole cock until I could feel the head of it enveloped by the back of her throat. I could feel the frisson of excitement that precedes my orgasm. I started to pull my cock out of her mouth, exclaiming "I am going to cum!" She looked at me with a smile and said, "Go ahead, Willie, cum in my mouth. I want you to! But you must do the same for me." Not caring what this meant, I began to fuck her mouth and twist her nipples, spurred on by lust and indescribable feelings. Suddenly, I was caught by the onrush of my orgasm and held her head by the short gray-blond hair as I pumped my cum into her throat, and she sucked me dry. I collapsed to the floor at the side of the bed, totally wrung out. My now flaccid cock flopped on my thigh, covering it with a mixture of my cum and Gerda's saliva. She looked at me with a triumphant smile and said, "Get the brandy bottle, and then come back to bed, Willie. We need some rest." I walked back to her sitting room and retrieved the brandy bottle and returned to the bedroom. Gerda was sitting at the bedside with two glasses and a washcloth. She looked both radiant and disheveled at the same time. The red lipstick she wore was smeared around her wide mouth and full lips. There was a drop of pearly come on her chin, and her hair was tousled where I had grabbed it in my ecstasy. "Willie, have a drink, and then we will rest." She poured some brandy in our glasses, which she quickly tossed off, and then lay down on the bed. I finished my brandy and lay down beside her.She had gotten rid of the negligee and the high heels, and so I could see her plainly. On closer inspection, I noticed that she had a most attractive roll of fat between her belly button and her bush. Her nipples were red and irritated from our lovemaking, and her whole body was suffused with a rosy glow that I was afterwards to learn was the product of her orgasm. She used the washcloth in her hand to gently wash my cock, getting rid of the sticky cum/saliva mix and the lipstick. I couldn't resist the temptation to once again fondle her ripe body, the very first woman's body that I had had such access to. She kept up a stream of small talk as I inspected her charms. "Do you like my tits, Willie? Some men think they are my best feature. Am I not too fat for you? You make me feel like a young woman again." Gradually, the warmth of the brandy made me feel sleepy, and I drifted off to the soft sound of her voice.
I awoke shortly after, brought from my sleep by a pain in my groin. As my head cleared, I realized the reason for the pain was that I was pushed up against Gerda's warm buttocks as she slept, and the warmth and softness of the crack had given me another hard-on. This was astounding, my third in a few short hours. I ran my hands over her smooth flesh. Her thighs and buttocks were tight and full, but age had softened her breasts and stomach. I reached down my hand to the hairy bush of her cunt and rubbed my finger along the slit. Gerda stirred in her sleep and then her eyes opened in surprise and pleasure. "Oh Willie, won't you let a poor old woman alone? You are so randy!" Her eyes and smile made it clear that she didn't want to be left alone. She rolled onto her back and opened her thighs. "Willie, now you must return the favor I gave you." I looked at her in confusion. What was this about? She opened her thighs and put her hand behind my head, pulling it toward her hairy cunt. "Bitte leck mir, Willie, you promised!" she whined.
I was not sure what I had promised, but I realized that she now wanted me to perform cunnilingus on her. I had never done this before, although I had watched enough xxx movies to get the idea. Okay, I thought, it is the least I can do. I put my head between her plump thighs and gave her cunt a tentative lick with my tongue. A shiver went through her body, and the musky scent of her pussy filled my nostrils. I began to lick the lips in earnest, and she moaned in delight and wiggled her ass sensually. "My clit, Willie, lick my clit." She spread the lips of her cunt with her hand and guided my mouth to the hooded nub of flesh above the opening to her pussy. I began to stroke it with my tongue, and she went instantly wild, practically rubbing her cunt in my face. I could feel my erection growing in my excitement at this new development. I sucked the nub of flesh into my mouth, and her moans deepened. For reasons I cannot fathom to this day, I took her clitoris between my teeth and nipped her while I reached up and twisted the nipples of her breasts. Gerda suddenly stiffened, and then her body twitched like she had been jolted with electricity. She let out a low, guttural moan and shuddered again and again. I later figured out that this was her orgasm, but at the time it frightened me mightily. I was afraid that I had driven this matronly woman of advanced years into a heart attack. Suddenly, her pussy exploded, drenching my face in sticky juice. I got up to my knees, shocked beyond belief. My penis deflated. I touched Gerda's cheek to see if she was conscious. She grabbed my hand and pulled it to her mouth and began to kiss and suck my fingers. "Oh Willie, what a lover you are. It has been a long time since any man made me feel such pleasure." She smiled at me, and her face seemed softened and happy. Her lips appeared swollen, and her nipples were rigid. I felt the hardness return to my cock. Instinctively, I reached out and turned her over. Her fat buttocks touched the head of my cock. The crease of her ass glistened where the liquid of her cum had run down from her pussy into her ass crack. She looked back over her shoulder with a smile. "Fuck me again, Willie, fuck me from behind like your little bitch." She reached back and spread her buttocks, exposing her cunt and the brown ring of her anus. I put the head of my prick against her pussy hole and pushed into its wonderful, damp warmth. I looked down as my cock slid in and out of her hole. It was bright red, and the shaft glistened from her juices. I was suddenly entranced by her puckered brown anus. I had seen scenes of men fucking women there in porno movies, but it hadn't attracted me until now. I suddenly stuck my middle finger in my mouth and coated it with saliva. I then began to massage her anus with the tip of my finger. "Oh Willie, what are you doing?" Gerda asked in a panicked little voice. I pushed my finger past the rubbery ring and into her bottom. "Oh no," she cried, "Don't, please..." I was too far gone to stop now. I began to fuck her ass with my finger as I fucked her pussy with my cock. I could feel my cock moving in her cunt with my finger. "Oh Willie, it is too much feeling... I cannot bear it... Oh mein Gott... I am exploding." At that, her body once again shuddered, and her cunt began to pulsate around my cock until I also felt the electric onset of my orgasm. This third orgasm produced much less cum than the first two, but it was the strongest of the three. I fell forward on the bed, exhausted. As I fell asleep, I could hear Gerda murmuring in a slurred and thick voice that showed how much she had had to drink, as I felt her hands stroking my back and buttocks. "Ach, such pleasure you give me, Willie, what a man. Who needs that arschlock Dieter? But we must be careful. We can't let Renata catch on -- she will make trouble for us. We must be careful. But I must be with you again. You can have me any time you want, but don't let Renata know. I will make you so happy, you'll see." In my drowsy state, I barely took note of the significance of what she was saying. First, the Dieter reference. Better than Dieter? How could that be? And why the concern over Renata? Why the concern over the mousy little cook? These issues were to become clearer in the following days, but that is a story for another time. | MF, mat, rom | Chapter 1 | Authors/vx6100/munich chapter 1.txt |
95,177 | Pami | The Movie Date | You run your hand up my leg, along the silky dark stockings that I put on just to see what your reaction would be. We were going to a movie, and I had put on a dark skirt that came to just above my knees, and a purple silk blouse. It was a casual outfit, but something slightly above the usual leggings and knit top that you were used to seeing me in. The lights had dimmed, and we lost ourselves in the storyline of the movie, not speaking, but enjoying each other's company nonetheless. Sometimes you don't have to talk to communicate, after all.
We held hands, just enjoying the escape of the dark theater. About halfway through the movie, however, you lost interest in the actors, and you started wondering what I was wearing underneath my outer layers. I felt your hand move to my knee, and I let it remain there, curious to see if you were going to do anything else. Just as I thought that was it, your hand slowly caressed the inside of my knee, inching higher. You pushed the skirt up just a bit, and rested your hand on my inner thigh now, almost absently rubbing the softness there. I glanced over at you, and you looked at me and smiled. A somewhat wolfish grin, I thought, but I couldn't see if the naughty gleam was in your eye. I smirked to myself and wondered what your reaction would be if you stroked a bit higher.
You eventually did, but it felt like it took you forever to move your hand any further. You lightly pinched my thigh as you felt the band from my stockings and the garter that was attached to it. I smirked again, glad that I had worn the real stockings, rather than pantyhose.
I shifted in my seat, slightly parting my legs so you could feel the heat emanating from that spot within me that was now dripping. I wanted to see how far you would go, and now it was almost like I was daring you to rub me higher. You snapped the garter against my skin, and then looked into my face as I smiled at you. We sat there, staring at each other in the near darkness, and then you very deliberately crept your fingers the final few inches to the juncture of my thighs.
We both gasped as you touched my heat... me from the electric shock of your touch, and you at the realization that I had not worn any panties. My eyes flickered shut, and I swallowed hard as your fingers spread my lips wider and were fully engulfed by my wetness. You licked your lips, (a dry throat, perhaps?) cleared your throat a couple of times, and found my clit, already engorged. As you lightly took it between your thumb and forefinger and started stroking it, you watched as my hips moved back and forth, trying to maximize the sensations.
We were both grateful that the theater was half empty, and no one was really seated near us, as you could smell the aroma of my arousal waft up from under my skirt. I wriggled around and around, half-disbelieving that this was happening, and half excited beyond belief.
My breathing quickened, and you could hear very small moans coming out of my mouth. You knew what an effort it was for me to be quiet...after all, there was more than one occasion that I had to close the windows in the bedroom in a vain effort to keep my neighbors from hearing my cries of ecstasy.
My moans grew slightly louder, and my movements more agitated, and you knew that I was about to climax. You leaned closer to me, and just as I peaked, you kissed me long and deep, swallowing my cries of passion. Our tongues dueled, and you just flicked back and forth over my nub, extending the orgasm for at least a full minute.
Finally, my hips stopped moving, and you withdrew your fingers from between my legs. I whispered a thank you into your mouth as the unending kiss finally ended. Then, as I laid my head on your shoulder, I whispered into your ear that as soon as we got home, you were going to pay for making me lose control like that in a public place. I punctuated my statement with a lick on your neck and a firm squeeze on your hardness.
You just smiled at the screen in general and wondered what I had in mind. | null | null | Authors/Pami/The_Movie_Date.txt |
95,288 | Katryna | Razorkiss | You watch as she stretches on the bed, arching her back slightly, comfortable, at ease, and a bit playful. You're reminded a bit of the hunting cats you've seen on nature shows; the lazy-predatory demeanor is the same. There's a hint of unpolished-silver moonlight and Rigel-blue streetlamp filtering through the blinds, and streaks of light play across her form as she slowly turns toward you. She smiles softly, her emerald-limestone eyes blinking sleepily. It's strange, you reflect, that she never seems to nap except on days when she isn't stressed out of her mind. When you'd think she'd need it the least. And now here she is, awake, at her favorite time of the not-even-vaguely-day. You wonder sometimes if she's a vampire, and where she's hiding the fangs.
"Sleep all right?" You murmur. She nods slightly, yawning affectedly. Her hair, a little beyond shoulder length, shifts a bit as she moves, a few more strands falling out of place. Hard to tell, really, as disheveled as it always is. She's still in your arms at night, but when she's on her own she turns like a drive shaft.
Her skin, you reflect, almost matches the lamp-moonlight. Almost like a negative image of the sky; a landscape of sooth white dotted with brown star clusters, and a few crimson or blue nebulas. You can't see much of her, she's in her usual tank top and jeans. No bra, you observe; she rarely wears one around the apartment. Her feet are likely bare under the covers that are folded back at her knees.
She beckons gently to you. You lean forward, resting one hand on the edge of the mattress, and kiss her softly. She strokes your cheek gently, her fingertips drifting along your skin and leaving faint tingly trails. You shiver slightly, hearing her purring softly as she pulls you to her. You stagger a bit, finally losing your balance and collapsing atop her, hearing her half-grunt, half-sigh with satisfaction as your weight lands across her stomach, her eyes half-closing.
You roll off her as quickly as you can, not wanting to crush her. "Is that entirely accurate, you wonder? Would it really be"... Then you derail that train of thought. Despite the give-and-take she's insisted on since you met her, this is one of those times you know to follow her lead.
She turns towards you, kissing you again, deeply this time. You can feel the warmth of her lips mashed to yours, the soft-muscular tip of her tongue pressing insistently, worming between both sets and pushing into your mouth. You suck on it gently at first as you lift yourself a little on one elbow, wrapping your arms around her, feeling her breasts pressing, deforming slightly, against your chest, her nipples already half-stiffened. You can feel her heartbeat slowly accelerating as you run your hands down her back, feeling her arch into the touch. As you hold her against you, you feel yourself warming, stirring...
Her hands drift along your upper arms, her fingertips alternately tapping and pressing, squeezing, kneading your muscles. You shiver again as you feel her chest expanding, her breathing speeding to match her heart. Her eyes are closed as she probes your mouth with your tongue, and you can hear her soft, muffled whimpers of pleasure and need. You run your hands up and down her back, brushing along her spine with your fingertips, through the cotton, feeling her arching further into the touch, pressing harder against you.
She disengages, still breathing faster, her skin flushed slightly. She swallows hard and licks her lips, her smile fading to a poker face. You look back at her intently, head cocked slightly. "Yes?" You whisper.
She swallows again, looking at the bed, then up to meet your eyes. There's still a bit of conflict, of uncertainty, engraved on her features, but you can tell her mind is made up. "Tonight," She breathes, almost questioningly. You nod, looking deeply, analytically, into her eyes.
"Are you sure?" You respond. She sits there for a few seconds, then nods slowly. "If you're hesitant..." You continue.
"I want this," She whispers.
You nod, hugging her close, feeling her limpening a bit in your arms. She's like a diamond, you reflect. Or titanium. So strong, yet so fragile...
She purrs, closing her eyes and kissing you again, her hands running up and down your back now as you suck at her tongue. You're still lying on opposites sides, facing each other, half-propped up with one another's elbows. You run your fingertips down her back and catch the hem of her shirt with your left hand, using your feet to slip your shoes off and tossing them beside the bed. She purrs, lifting herself slightly as you pull her shirt upwards, slowly revealing her stomach and back inch by inch. You admire the litheness of her build as she squirms slightly against you. She nips at your nose on the spur of the moment, then grins. Her innocent demeanor barely hides her strength; the force her legs have exerted around you other nights has actually become frightening.
You lean around her, kissing softly up her spine as you lift her shirt. She gasps with each touch of your lips, and whimpers, squirming, as you tease her back a bit with your tongue. As you lick and kiss at her you can feel yourself swelling further, your pants rapidly becoming far too tight. You pull back and slowly pull her shirt upward, over her head, shivering again as you uncover her breasts. "Heaving bosom," the smut books would put it, and she is, admittedly, breathing fairly hard. You think you can sense a faint glimmer of perspiration along her chest, in the valley between her breasts. Her nipples, medium-rare pink, jut from her breasts like RTS perimeter defense buildings.
You slide the shirt up and over her head, and she pulls her arms out of it. You toss it aside, running your hands down her back again, as she begins to unbutton your shirt. You lift yourself a little further to make it easier as you press your lips to hers once more. Her fingers fumble a bit with the buttons, but she gradually gets it open, and you pull your arms out of it, one by one.
You lick playfully at her nose, and she giggles. She presses herself against you, skin to skin now, her nipples gently poking your ribs as she breathes into your mouth. Her hands run lower, down your spine, fingertips trilling gently. She slides her fingers persistently under your waistband, slowly circling around to the front as you close your eyes, purring and enjoying the sensation. She grasps you through your pants, purring as she feels your stiffness in her hands, enjoying the gentle throbbing of your shaft. You groan, shuddering as she massages it through the cotton.
You grasp her hand lightly and guide it to the zipper. She smiles, quivering slightly, noticeably flushed, as she unbuttons your jeans, pulling the zipper down. She presses her palm against you through your underwear, purring as she feels you straining against her hand. Your eyes are closed, the sensation overwhelming you as you breathe harder, leaning forward to kiss her fiercely. She grasps you, slowly kneading your shaft with her fingertips, enjoying watching your face as you squirm.
You lift yourself from the bed, and she grasps both waistbands, easing your jeans and underwear down at the same time, watching your shaft spring up as she frees you. You slide your jeans the rest of the way down your legs, kicking them off, then the underwear. She purrs, watching as you stretch for her, naked now except for socks. She giggles, reaching down and gently pulling them from your feet.
She grasps your shoulders, pulling you against her, rolling halfway on top of you and arching one leg across your pelvis. She moves slowly against you, grasping your shaft firmly with one hand as she presses her lips against yours, insistently sucking your tongue into her mouth and purring loudly. You feel her heart pounding against you as she rolls her hips slowly at first, grinding against your hip through her jeans. You laugh between groans, getting the idea, reaching down and clumsily undoing her jeans. She half-lifts herself, squirming out of them and kicking them off, lowering herself back to the bed.
You purr, admiring her body, running your fingertips slowly down it. First her back, drifting across her buttocks, then, pulling slightly away from her, up her sides and along her shoulders. You let your fingers drift gently, teasingly down her chest, over the tops of her breasts, before you cup them, purring as you feel her nipples pressing insistently against your palms. You knead and massage them as she grasps your shaft once more, both of you panting now, whimpering with need but driven to make this last.You move your hips slowly at first, pressing up into her hand as she gently strokes you.
You slide your hands from her breasts after a moment and slowly downward, caressing across her stomach, over her hips, down the backs of her thighs, grinning as she arches into the touch, gasping at the intensity of the feeling. She moans, squirming under your touch, as you caress the backs of her knees, then the kneecaps, moving to kiss her deeply. She sucks at your tongue as you thrust it eagerly into her mouth, shuddering happily as your fingertips drift up her thighs, your palms gently caressing. You let your fingertips drift up and around her sex, circling playfully on her smooth, bare mound, with an almost undetectable hint of stubble. She whimpers, pushing back against your hands insistently.
You grin, teasing her, moving them up and away. She lifts herself and presses, almost slams, back down onto your hand, catching it between her thighs. You gasp, purring as your palm presses against her hot, damp folds; whatever apprehension her mind might be stumbling on, her body is definitely into this. She moans agreeably, grinding against your hand. You caress her softly, your fingertips sliding along the outside of her lips. She whimpers, pressing against you, and you oblige her, sliding your middle finger gently between them, feeling it slicking around in her juices. You feel her tensing slightly as you rub your palm against her clitoris through the folds, grinning as you watch her squirming in your arms.
She's breathing harder, the long, ragged breaths of her plateau. She pauses for half a second, looking deeply into your eyes, then reaches under the pillow, pulling out a simple-looking black handle. She presses a button and the switchblade activates, the blade springing out with a click and slight metallic twang. She swallows, still grinding against your hand, and brings the blade slowly downwards as you watch, eyes wide. She lets it rest along her inner thigh, swallows again, then presses it downward.
She draws the blade quickly up her thigh, tensing, clenching her teeth, groaning as the knife parts her flesh. She draws it up her thigh, until the new slit ends just shy of the one she was born with, quaking above you, eyes closing tight. She whimpers longer and loud in pleasure-pain, and you feel her warming, throbbing against your hand as she comes. You feel her hot fluids mixing against your palm as she dampens further, blood welling from her thigh.
She keeps rubbing insistently, whimpering, moving the blade to her other thigh and quickly slashing it, and again you feel her throbbing against your hand, perhaps not so hard this time. She moans, lifting the blade, eying her wrists momentarily, then shaking her head slightly to herself. She rests the blade against her upper arm, then draws it downward, again parting the skin of her arm, coming again against your palm. You wonder about that; is it simple sensory overload, one intensive sensation triggering a response to another? Or something deeper, more primal? Knowing her, you suspect the latter.
You glance at her thighs; the blood flowing from them has already dribbled down them and is rapidly forming a crimson stain on the mattress. It's not spurting and looks darkish; can't be an artery, but there's a lot of it. She must have hit a vein. She is breathing hard and fast, eyes half-closed, swaying slightly, almost hypnotically as she runs the blade to her other arm and slices it, moaning as she throbs against your hand. Her juices, both vaginal and vascular, are dribbling down your arm as you caress her, and the red spot on the mattress is expanding like a cancerous Silicon Valley suburb.
She lifts the knife, resting it along her chest, and draws it downward, slicing along the top of her breast, screaming and shuddering against you with the intensity of her orgasm as the knife bisects her nipple. Blood is flowing down her arms, making another stain which quickly merges with the first, and now rivulets of red drift down her chest. She moves the blade to above her other breast and repeats the motion, slicing her nipple in half and coming powerfully again.
She grasps your shoulder with one hand, the knife in the other, pushing you onto your back. She hasn't missed a vein yet, you reflect, staring wide-eyed at her bloodslick body, watching her chest heaving with passion. She purrs, half-straddling you, then opens her mouth wide. She rests the flat edge of the knife against her tongue, licking the blood from one side, moaning. She turns it and licks the other side clean, shuddering, then half-turns the blade, licking the edge, cutting a slit in her tongue. Blood wells up immediately, and she leans forward, kissing you deeply, sharing the salty-meaty taste of her vitality.
She moves to straddle you, her wounded tongue still dancing with yours, and you feel warm blood dribbling onto your stomach and hips. She lowers herself, and you moan, closing your eyes as your head slips between her silky folds, sliding up and down along her sex, finally finding its mark. Sighing contentedly, she slowly begins to lower herself onto you. You moan, tensing a little as she closes around you with a lush, steamy deathgrip. It's women like her, you reflect, that make the application of the name of Venus appropriate for the planet.
You push up, driving yourself deep into her, watching her arch her head back and moan as you come to rest gently, barely brushing her cervix. She leans forward, blood running down her chin along with her arms and chest and both your stomachs, kissing you deeply. She begins to move, and you press into her, rolling your hips opposite hers, squirming and gasping as her soft walls seem to caress you. She whimpers with pleasure, leaning forward, angling herself against the base of your shaft, rubbing her clitoris against you.
As she tenses and strains above you, you can feel her weakening slowly. Her breathing slows a bit, her eyes seem slightly unfocused. You feel yourself warming, pushing up into her, as she leans forward to kiss you fiercely, whimpering. Her chest presses lightly to yours, and you can feel her heart slackening as the life ebbs from her body. You thrust into her insistently, compensating, matching her slowing thrusts. You can feel her tensing above you, and the insistent hot tingling and slight tightening between your legs grows to match it. You thrust up, faster, her blood coating your entire torso, oozing along your arms and legs onto the sheet, dribbling slightly from your mouth as you drink greedily from her tongue.
She whimpers, shuddering, on edge, and then you drive up, hard, lifting her slightly off the bed. She goes rigid, suddenly, collapsing atop you, still for a moment, her hands resting on your shoulders. Then, suddenly, she tenses, hard, shaking, her short fingernails digging painfully into your shoulders, breaking the skin, as she gasps chokedly. You'll notice all this in retrospect; for now, your entire consciousness is consumed by the squeezing, clenching, throbbing, fluttering engulfing your shaft. You feel yourself shudder, hugging her tight to you, and groan as you spew into her.
As her climax winds down, her deathgrip on your shoulders eases, but the velvety vice around your slowly limpening shaft remains. She sighs contentedly, breathing shallowly, her eyes half-closed and unfocused. You feel her pulse throbbing against you, fainter now, slowing rapidly. You feel a few faint throbs, two, one, then nothing. She exhales, going limp atop you, and breathes no more.
You sigh to yourself, holding her tight to you, lying motionless, eyes closed, for a while as you soften inside her slowly cooling body. Gradually, your legs start to fall asleep and breathing becomes more and more of a strain, and you ease her from you, rolling her onto her side. You kiss her bloodstained lips gently, positioning her with her thighs together to preserve your final gift to her. Wrapping one arm around her, you snuggle up to her body and quickly slip into dreams, unsure now and forever how to feel. | null | null | Authors/katryna/Razorkiss.txt |
95,522 | gemmawriter | Hanna and Dad | You stand inches from your front door and fumble with your keys. The keys fall to the ground and end up behind a pot of flowers, and you mumble a thanks under your breath that the porch light is on. You weren't sure if your dad would leave it on since you were supposed to be gone all night, but he tends to think of these things.
He knows which precautions to take, but he isn't overbearing. He was okay with you and your friends getting a room together at the hotel the prom was taking place at tonight, and he didn't even blink an eye when you lied that your boyfriend wouldn't be keeping you company. You think to yourself that he probably saw the lie from a mile away, but sometimes he ignores these things so that you can get some sort of feeble sense of rebellion.
Clay, your boyfriend, presses his car horn in an effort to get you to hurry inside. You know he won't drive away because he feels a sense of chivalrous obligation, but you figure that he also probably just wants to get to his own bed and pass out before waking to a pounding headache in the morning. He got shit-faced early enough in the evening that he's fine but mad uncomfortable now. You finally get the key in the lock and turn it, and you turn around to wave to Clay as you push the door open. He doesn't wave back - just revs up his engine as if it's not three in the morning and all the neighbors are not actually asleep.
As you walk in the door, your feet aching from your ridiculous strappy heels, you think about your night. Everything started out okay - your friends lined up for pictures, your dad smiling at you and telling you how beautiful you looked as he snapped away with the camera. Clay picking you up and putting your corsage on you - a feathery-petaled red flower against your white Marilyn Monroe dress with a skirt that would blow straight up in wind if you didn't hold it down.
You'd spent hours doing your own makeup instead of going out to have it done by someone else with your friends because you don't trust anyone else to make you look the way you imagine. The professionals in your little town are old ladies who think fancy eye makeup means frosty blue lids and Cleopatra liner. You'd wanted something different. And your dad had been there all day, grading papers from his class on eighteenth century novels and telling you how gorgeous you were every time you sprinted out of your bathroom and into his office to ask him how a certain shade of lipstick seemed.
You'd told him he wasn't much help if he claimed to like everything the same, and he'd told you that no matter what you put on your face, he just saw his perfect daughter. You'd scoffed at him for a moment, but you had to admit he was just so good to you. You'd gone behind his desk and sat in his lap for a few minutes, resting your head on his shoulder and thinking about how you'd done this all the time when you were a little girl. How sometimes when you were little, long before your mother died a few months ago, you'd walked in on her sitting on his lap in the exact same way, as if she was his child too. You'd looked into his eyes and said, "I'm not too heavy to sit on you like this, right?" and he'd started laughing. "Don't be silly, ." Then you'd crawled off of him and gone back to primping.
You slide your heels off and, as you enter the kitchen, there's your dad - sitting at the table with papers.
"Why were you waiting up for me? I wasn't even supposed to come home until the morning."
He smiles at you and yawns.
"It's not all about you, you know. I'm just up to my eyes in these papers, and I wanted a change of scenery. My office can get a little oppressive."
"Well, I told you not to go for the dark wood and leather."
You both laugh. But as you laugh, your throat catches a little, and you feel like you might start to cry. Your dad frowns a little and reaches out his arms to hold you.
"What happened?" he asks as you collapse into his lap, your skirt riding up your thighs.
You think back to the moment your night was ruined. You'd sneaked up to the hotel room with Clay, and he'd quickly ended up on top of you. He'd snuck vodka in and therefore his mouth tasted like rubbing alcohol when he kissed you. You had not been in a mood to even kiss, but you'd been determined to get the sex thing over with. You'd been thinking for a while that maybe being close with another person in such a way would make you feel less empty. Because empty is all you've felt since your mom... Clay had removed your panties and thrown them somewhere on the floor before starting to grind his crotch - still enshrined in pants - into you.
That's when you started crying. Clay rolled his eyes and muttered something about getting over it. Then he passed out next to you, and you felt pretty pathetic about it, but you leaned into his neck and cried until you felt dried out and numb. A few hours later, when your friends started bitching about having to listen to Clay snoring, you woke him up. He drove you home.
You give your dad a shortened and highly edited version of the night's events - leaving out the vodka and the near sex experience - but you can see that he understands what happened. You are crying quietly and, you think, pathetically.
He's leaning in and kissing your cheek where your tears have trailed down your face, and you're embarrassed - he can probably taste the salt on his lips. You can't believe you're losing it like this; he lost her too, you shouldn't be making him worry about you when you're going off to college and he's hoping for tenure and everything has already fallen apart for him more than it has even for you. You get to go away and escape and pretend to your peers that nothing happened. He's got to stay behind and deal with being alone. This thought crushes you.
And because of this, because your dad is so good to you and because you love him and don't want to sadden him, you don't say anything as he makes his way from your cheek to your neck with his kisses. You're feeling something that makes you uneasy - it's like the rush of going straight down in a roller coaster, and it's deep in your stomach, with fingers spreading out into the rest of your body. It's something like what you've wanted to feel with Clay. It is exactly what you have never felt with Clay. Your body gives an involuntary shudder, your shoulder twitching and hitting your father's temple. He instantly stops what he's doing and pulls back. He stares down at the table instead of into your face, and for the first time since your mother's funeral, you feel completely unable to read him.
"Dad?"
"Go to bed."
And he pushes you off his lap. You trip on your own feet as you try to catch your balance and stand up, and you have to grab the table in order to not fall flat on your face. Your dad's face changes back to a normal look - an expression of concern that you see often. He apologizes, says he didn't mean to push you, but that you really should be getting to bed. You stand still in front of him and give him a stare that you imagine is somewhat like the blank one he was giving the table only moments before. He looks back at you without moving, without even blinking. The clock above the refrigerator ticks. Ticks. Ticks some more. And suddenly you're laughing, and you can't help it, and he's raising his eyebrows into a completely what-the-fuck sort of expression, and you gasp out something about staring contests. Your dad starts laughing too, a laugh that seems to hold some sort of relief. Relief that you still want to be silly with him after what just happened. What just happened?
In joking about the seriousness you two just shared, you have also acknowledged that something weird occurred. You want to understand it, but you don't want to bother your dad or make him feel bad. And yet you don't want to be left alone after your disappointing night. And... and... that roller-coaster feeling... You tell your brain to shut up, and you tell your father, "Come read to me."
"What?"
"Like when I was little. Just read me a poem or something. You always help me relax. Please?"
He says various things about being very sleepy himself, needing to get up early for a conference call, needing to think, needing to shower. He mutters and you listen and wait. Eventually he just says, "Yes, sure. I'll read you one poem. Go choose something and get in bed. I'll be in."
You choose The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot because it is ridiculously long. It will give you as much time as possible to listen to your father's voice dance through the syllables. When you tell him that this is the poem you've chosen, he rolls his eyes, but he also grins. He knows you. He is not surprised that you chose a poem that is practically longer than the Bible. He starts reading.
"April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of dead earth, mixing Memory and desire..."
A few minutes pass. You are so sleepy but feel so alone. And cold. Your room is colder than normal. You turn to your dad and open one eye. He notices, and you close the one eye again.Against your eyelids, you see fish turning into birds turning back into fish, and you know you are close to leaving the realm of the conscious.
"Falling asleep?" he asks.
"Sort of," you say. "But I want you to keep reading. Just get in here by me and keep me warm. It's freezing in here."
"Don't-"
"Just come on. I won't stick my cold toes against you." Clay always complains that your various extremities are too cold. Your mouth is against your pillow, and you dimly note that your voice sounds muffled.
"That's not what I'm worried about," he says, and he gets up from the chair he's been sitting in. You feel concerned that he's just going to walk away, but sleep is pulling you too hard for you to do anything about it. The light blinks out from behind your eyelids, and you know he switched your lamp off. And then. And then - he gets in bed with you.
He is so warm you feel almost burnt as he brushes against you, but you pull yourself towards him. He only struggles minorly. Your mind is separated into the sleep-drunk you and the very minuscule rational you that tries so hard to keep track of everything even when keeping track is impossible. That rational bit of you thinks that he'd struggle harder if you were more awake. But you're not.
Suddenly you are though. His skin is hot against yours, both of you wearing only t-shirts and pajama shorts, and you're wrapping your legs around him and he's wrapping his arms around you, and you realize that you both are simultaneously deciding to be temporarily happy at the expense of tomorrow morning. What a strange decision to make with your father.
You whisper in his ear, "When you kissed my neck, I felt the way I always wish I'd feel when I'm with Clay. I didn't think that existed."
"Of course it does," he whispers back. "I want you to have it. Shit. I'm stealing that aren't I, I-"
"No, no, stop that, I need this too."
You think about studies illustrating that being sleep-deprived is similar to being drunk. It is, isn't it? You are both acting completely drunk. And what else are you supposed to do if you're so very drunk? You kiss him.
It feels like his soul, the essential core of this man you have only known in the most constricting way because of what you two are to each other, is struggling to express itself to you as you forget you need to breathe. He's tasting your mouth and you're tasting his, the tip of his tongue traces your lips, you so-softly bite at him, and you are so intoxicated that you feel you may die any minute. You are overwhelmed, trembling from head to toes, shivering even though you aren't even slightly cold anymore. His hands have made their way up the back of your shirt and he starts to unlatch your bra.
"Shit!" he shouts, pulling away. "FUCK!"
You will not allow this. The only person there for you in the entire world, the only person who also happens to make your entire body spasm with one touch, apparently, is not going to hate himself. And he's not going to hate this. He won't look at you and see his own shame. No.
He's just gotten out of your bed, but you can reach him - you grab his arm and pull him back. He starts to struggle, and you know this is a fight he could win in less than five seconds if you don't say something.
"I want you."
You're ashamed of the way the words came out - high-pitched, girly, whiny. Mostly like you're about to cry. Which you are. But he's stopped struggling - is even standing still - and you suppose maybe you have said something right.
"I want to know you. In every way."
Now you feel that he is the one trembling.
You use his arm that you are holding to keep your balance as you pull yourself into a kneeling position on your bed. You wrap your arms around his chest and rest your head up against him for a moment. Then you pull back and move your hands to the bottom of his shirt. You start to pull it off of him. He doesn't fight you. It's like the few words you just gave him have turned him into a thing that is yours, and he now knows that there is nothing he can do except give in.
You pull him back towards you, and he complies. He crawls back into your bed as you let yourself fall to your back, and he gets on top of you. You reach your head up to kiss him, but he leans his mouth into you and even pushes you down. You love the pressure of his thighs against your hips, his mouth pressing against your mouth, his hands holding down your wrists. When did he start holding down your wrists? You give a feeble attempt at wiggling your arms free, but you realize you absolutely cannot. But you don't want to, and so it makes you more delirious to know you're at his mercy just as he is at yours. You made him this way, after all. You can tell he wishes he didn't want you like this, but you did it to him. Every time you sat in his lap, every time you asked him how you looked in a dress, every time you got on tip-toes to kiss his cheek.
You keep lifting your hips out of instinct, pressing them harder and harder against him. He's kissing your neck now, and he's let go of your wrists. With your hands free, you reach down and rub your palms against his pajama bottoms where you feel his cock - so hard. This makes you tremble. You start rubbing him through his shorts made of thin fabric, and he moans into your collarbone. In his moment of weakness, you push him, and he goes with it, rolling over next to you.
Now you get on top of him. You sit on top of his hips and smile down at him. He's shaking and seems terrified, but manages to give you a small smile back. This makes you happier than anything all night, and you pull your shirt up over your head and throw it on the floor. That just makes him shake even harder, but when you start messing around with your bra, he reaches his arms around you and manages to still his shaking long enough to unclasp it. You slide it off and toss it over with your shirt. Your dad runs his hands up and down your sides, your stomach, and whispers, "Oh God, God," as he does so. You grab his hands and pull them to your breasts, so that he is gently holding one in each hand. You look down at him and wonder if your eyes show how much you love him. You lean down to kiss him, but he pulls your entire body up a little, thwarting you and getting one of your nipples in his mouth in the process. You arch your back without even thinking about it, lost in the sensation. He bites you very softly.
At the same time, he's pulling your pajama bottoms off of you, and they get lost somewhere in the sheets. He moves one of his hands between your legs and starts to stroke you. You feel like you're about to lose it completely, like you probably couldn't say your own name if someone asked. His fingers are the best things you've ever felt, and he plays with you and plays with you and plays with you until you feel that you're approaching a mini-death. And he stops.
"Wh-" is all you can manage to get out, both because you can barely speak and because you're caught off-guard by the mischievous grin he's giving you. It's the look he gives you when he's just surprised you with a rather clever joke. He's teasing you.
"Fuck!" you shout. You can't believe he has the presence of mind for this.
Now you move down to where he is still wearing his pajama bottoms, and you pull them off of him. He has to lift himself up slightly to help you remove them. His cock is so hard, and you accidentally bump your face into it as you shift around with the covers. The head of it brushes against your nose, and you giggle a little.
You wrap your hand around the base of him and start to stroke up and down, playing with the skin. He's uncut, which your mother had actually told you one day when you'd asked. She'd been bemused, but had answered you honestly. He starts to give more little moans and tries to push your head towards him. You want to torture him though, since he tortured you, and so you move your hand and just lick all around the base. You move closer and closer to the head of his cock, and his moans become sharper and faster, but then you swoop back down, and he gives a sigh of frustration. He begs "Please" and this does you in. You move up to the head again and slowly slide your lips over him. Having your daddy's cock in your mouth feels like nothing you ever could have imagined. It's better even than when he was touching you. You think you will explode from the electricity coursing through you.
You lick and suck on him like he's candy, and every time you hear him moan, the electricity courses through you at full strength. It's the best feeling in the world to make him feel good enough to become utterly vulnerable. His voice now is different than you've ever heard it, and for a fraction of a second, you feel jealous of and angry at your mother for keeping it to herself all those years. Then you remember just as quickly that she is gone, that you miss her, and that you are, fairly or not, now getting what was always hers. His cock throbs in your mouth.
You can tell that he'll cum if you don't stop. And while you do want to taste him more than you've ever wanted anything, you remember the little joke he pulled on you when he was touching you, and so you pull your mouth away from him. He moans again, but this time it's a sound of deep frustration. You giggle a little, but you don't want to worry him, and so you say:
"Fuck me."
He pushes his hips up towards you, fucking the air.
"Yes."
You position yourself above his cock and wonder what this is going to be like. You've done things with boys before, but you've never gone all the way. However. You have played with yourself a lot, and so you're not really scared. You grab his cock and rub the head up and down between your pussy lips.You're so, so wet that it slides around easily, and your dad's breathing is seriously labored. So is yours. In one quick moment, you slide the head of his cock into you, and you both gasp at once. He feels so big inside of you, as if you were utterly empty before and now are complete. You wonder what you feel like to your dad as you slide slowly down onto him. Then you slide slowly back up, and he rolls you over so quickly that he's on top of you before you know it. His cock is still in you, but only just barely. You love having your daddy in control of you even though you never knew you even wanted such a thing. Everything feels so right as it happens. He starts pushing in and pulling out of you ever so slowly, ever so gently, but he can't help stretching you. His cock makes you feel tight and raw, and you love it.
He's moaning so beautifully. Your legs are wrapped around him, pulling him in closer to you, and every time you squeeze him a little harder, he lets out a small, painful-sounding gasp. He's so big and it doesn't seem like he can get all the way inside you - his cock pushes into you and hits some part of you, and you feel a twinge in your belly, but you don't want him to stop. You don't say anything - you just moan and let out little chirps of pain, and he keeps pounding into you. Finally, you feel that he's gotten his cock all the way in you. He is deeper inside you than anything ever has been. You remind yourself that this is your dad, the only person in the world who loves you the way you deserve to be loved, and this pushes you over the edge. The tense fire starts in your thighs and stomach and moves in toward where your father is pushing in, and suddenly you are practically convulsing, digging your nails into his back and screaming into his neck.
Your dad starts moaning louder as you tremble under him, and as you kiss and bite his shoulder, he pulls out of you. He's holding his cock above your stomach, and his head tilts back as he cums all over your tummy, your breasts, your hips. You feel like you're cumming again just watching him. When the last of his cum seems to have fallen onto you, he looks down at you, and you smile at him. He gives a weak smile back, still gasping.
You wish he had cum inside of you, filled you with himself so that you could be linked with this aspect of him forever. You lift up your shaking hand and dip two fingers into his cum. You swirl it around a little on your belly, and then you lift your fingertips up to your mouth and suck on them. His eyes are on you while you do this, and it seems to drive him over the edge a second time. He moans, and this turns you on so much that you grab his cock and pull it to your mouth to clean him off. You feel your own cum slippery all over him, and you start to lick it off, but then your mouth is being filled with...
He's cumming again. You're making your daddy cum a second time for you, and his cum is now spilling into your mouth. You are feeling his pleasure warm against your tongue. You are tasting it.
When he finishes, he looks down at you again. You smile, and then you open your mouth, still full of him. You display his cum, swishing your tongue around.
"Fuck," he says, and falls down next to you, laughing nervously. You finally swallow his cum, and you think about your body soaking it up so that he's part of you in a new way. He holds you in his arms even though both of you are too hot now. The blankets all around you are damp with sweat and cum, and you are both exhausted and exhilarated. The man next to you - your father, your lover - is silent aside from his soft breaths. He strokes your hair and gives your neck a single, quick kiss. The silence pushes on, and his breathing becomes more even. You feel that maybe he is not really asleep - maybe he is just pretending - but you let him pretend, with your head nestled against his chest. Eventually your mind turns in on itself and you sleep. | null | null | Authors/gemmawriter/Hanna_and_Dad.txt |
95,539 | inspired Jerker | The photographer | Yet another busy day on the beach, and Mark was out there with his trusty camera, taking pictures of everything and everyone, hoping to sell his pictures to those who were interested.
Not that it really mattered if he sold many, even though he took hundreds of pictures each day when the weather was as good as it was right now. It didn't cost anything unless he printed them, which he didn't very often, only if requested.
However, his real money was made on the internet from the dozens of pictures he took and sold online of boys and girls playing on the beach in next to nothing, and the occasional naked ones if he was in the right place at the right time - of both boys and girls, but pictures of boys sold the best, so he concentrated on taking as many pictures of boys as he could.
If the wind was in the right direction and the stars were lined up in his favor, and he was in the right place at the right time, and luck was on his side, he could make a small fortune from doing a special photo shoot if a boy caught his eye, about the age of eleven through to thirteen at tops, and he could persuade him to come to his studio and do one of his specialized photo sessions. Or if he was commissioned by a parent to do some tasteful naked photos of boys or girls of any age, then he would willingly do so, as he could sell them online via his website.
And today, it seemed, was going to be a very lucky and interesting day, but he didn't know it yet.
He had only been out on the beach for about half an hour and had taken loads of pictures when one skinny little Chinese boy, wearing just a pair of baggy sky blue mini shorts, caught his eye playing in the sand. Looking through his viewfinder at the little boy, he noticed that when the little boy moved about, the opening around the legs of his mini shorts opened enough to show off his little ball sac, so he took picture after picture, and some of his nice looking little cock as well, when it presented itself in his viewfinder. As well as these candid pictures, he took heaps of sensible ones of him just playing in the sand, just in case the boy's mom came over asking questions.
About fifty pictures later, and still obsessed with what he was seeing of this little boy, with what looked like absolute perfect blemish-free, soft, smooth skin through his viewfinder, finally, the boy's mom came into focus, and looked his way.
Mark thought this could go one of either two ways, and when the boy's mom came over, she introduced herself as Cindy and said, "So you're the famous photographer I've heard about who works the beach, are you?"
Mark let out an inward sigh of relief as he nodded and introduced himself, and said, "Hope you didn't mind me snapping a few of your beautiful little boy playing!"
Cindy smiled and said, "I am glad you think he is beautiful, as I was hoping to bump into you at some point soon, as I would like to commission you to do some of Kim at home for me, if you are interested?"
Mark smiled and said, "Yes, I am interested, as work is work after all, and he is a beauty! Do you have something particular in mind?"
Cindy said, "Yes! I don't really want posed ones of him to start with! I think some of him playing naturally, like he was on the beach, and then we can discuss about having him pose. How does that sound?"
Mark said, "Perfect, after all, you are the client! When do you want to do it?"
Cindy looked at her watch, smiled, and said, "Now, if you are free!"
Mark said, "Can do! Shall we go?"
Cindy gave Mark her address. He told her he needed some equipment from his studio, so they both left the beach and arranged to meet up half an hour later at Cindy's house.
By the time Mark got there, Cindy had changed Kim's shorts to a baggy white micro boy bikini, and Kim was playing out on the grass with some action figure. As he played, he moved around, and was showing off his naked bum, and occasionally his relaxed little balls and little cock would be visible when the baggy micro bikini moved.
Mark set his additional equipment up, such as extra lights and light reflectors, then set about taking pictures of Kim as he played, trying not to get the little boy's cock and balls in every picture. That was until Cindy suggested Kim play in the paddling pool, so even more was on show, as the material was transparent, and everything was on display, as if he was naked. The added shiny skin from being wet made him look even more sexy than he did when he was dry.
Mark now took pictures without worrying what was showing in his viewfinder, as the wet skin added that extra to each shot of his skinny frame and sexy thighs. Cindy eventually told Kim to slip his boy bikini off, so she would be able to see his cock and balls better and clearer in the pictures.
At this stage, Mark was concentrating, or trying to concentrate, on the job at hand, and seemed to forget Cindy was there, as he took picture after picture, and heard himself saying, "Nice, Kim, you look so good like that!" "That's it, Kim, show off your sweet wet little bum to the camera!" "Well done, Kim, spread those sexy little legs of yours and show off your succulent juicy little balls to the camera!" "OMG, Kim, that shows off how sexy your soft, smooth thighs are in that position!" "That's it, Kim, smile at the camera, we can just about see how hard your cock is from this angle!" "No, Kim, don't touch yourself! Keep your hands out of the way, let the camera see your beautiful soft little balls and hard cock bobbing up and down! Beautiful, Kim, just beautiful!" "Yes, Kim, you are a natural, bent over like that, such a nice view from the back!" "Just look at your sexy thighs, all wet and glistening when the sun hits your skin!" "OMG, Kim! That's it, boy, stay like that! Legs further apart, bend right over, arch your back, make your chest touch the floor, keep your bum up and spread open for a moment longer! Yes, Kim! What a beautiful tight cock receptor you have! Yes, that's it, smile! And yes, you heard me, Kim, your cock receptor!"
Cindy was watching Mark take the pictures and was so pleased with how things were going, and how Mark was making comments as if she wasn't there, confirming to herself that, despite Kim only being seven, that she should indeed ask Mark to do one of his specialized photo sessions with Kim at his studio.
As Mark was focusing on Kim's soft, light caramel, silky smooth inner thighs and relaxed ball sac, Cindy said, "I have seen a lot of your specialist photo sessions online, and really would like to pay you to do one with Kim at your studio! Perhaps start with 'Tied with a twist'."
Mark took the perfect shot of Kim's thighs, stopped looking through the viewfinder, and looked at Cindy and said with a question, "Tied with a twist!?"
Cindy nodded and said, "Yes! I rather like where the boy is tied up. No matter how you pose him! If it is on the anal hook or just hanging upside down or just flat on his back or front, and his balls are tied with a thin rope and pulled tight around his balls!"
Mark said, "I know the scenario you mean! But I'm not sure where the twist comes in, though?"
Cindy smiled and said, "The knot has a small rod inserted, so it can be twisted tighter and tighter, squeezing and pulling on his succulent, juicy little seven-year-old balls until they are causing him the utmost maximum pain!"
Mark said, "OMG, is he only seven? His balls look amazing already! I have never done a session like that with a seven-year-old! But tied and stretched as you describe will, I am sure, enhance their beauty, as will watching them pass back and forth through my little ball mangle for perhaps half an hour or so, to make them even more supple and tender in readiness for other possible painful procedures!"
Cindy said, "Oh yes! I must admit I not seen one as young as Kim amongst your portfolio, that is why I have I asked you to do at least one special photo session with Kim! You see, I rather like to look at the pictures you have done in the past of those young boys whose balls you have tied up, beaten to double their size, and made to look rather red, puffy, and ever so sore for them! I am hoping that giving you Kim's little balls, and watching you tie them up as you do to the other boys, and watching what you do to them in the flesh, so to speak, to make them look their painful best, and seeing Kim's freshly beaten for the camera, will be more satisfying than the flat, two-dimensional pictures on your website has to offer!"
Mark listened and finally looked at Kim and then at Cindy and said, "You know, he is a darling little boy, who, if I agree to this special photo session, will be in a lot of pain, especially to his little balls, not only today, but for a few days after. Something as his mom, you will have to deal with, as you won't be able to seek any medical help other than pain killers for him."You also understand that if I put him on the anal hook as you suggest, that will be painful for him as well for a week at least! Mark noticed Cindy smile a little as he said that. And if you have looked closely at my website, you will have seen that by agreeing to a specialized photo session, his pictures will be sold online and there is a good chance of neighbors of yours seeing them.
Cindy smiled and said, "He is only seven! Just think of all the years ahead of him servicing my needs with his tender, succulent, juicy little balls and tight little cock, a receptor for those who want it!"
Mark said, "Well, put it like that, I think we have a deal. Shall we go to my place now?"
Cindy smiled and said, "Thought you'd never ask! Come on, Kim, time to have some proper pictures taken of your sexy little body for the internet world to enjoy and see being used!"
Der End! | null | Short story | Authors/Inspired_Jerker/Inspired/All/The photographer.txt |
95,792 | null | Rape fantasy | You walk up to a small house that when you first see it looks very quaint and small. It is, from what you can see, a 30x30 foot structure of different colored bricks. You have been told by the homeowner that if it's locked, you will find the key under the doormat. You were also told what to expect. Namely, the guy will be laying face down on the bed, naked except maybe for a very wet and possibly messy adult diaper. You're to do whatever pleases you. So you walk up to the front door, which you notice is painted blood red. You try the door and find, yes, it is unlocked. So you open the door.
What you first notice as you walk in is that the house is just one room with not much in it but a bed and a small desk with a laptop computer on it. You notice that there are a bunch of wires coming off of it to all manner of cameras situated all around the room, most of which are in the corners of the main room. You do notice as you close the door that there's a sign on the back of it. Out of curiosity, you read it. What it says is:
1. As you agreed on the website, you will be completely anonymous. On the stand behind you is a bunch of masks that you may use.
2. As you agreed, you can do just about anything you wish as long as you're disease-free. If you're not sure if you are disease-free, please use the provided condoms.
3. And lastly, this is all about you, so please have fun.
4. And for your information, as you read and signed to get this address, all the happenings in this house are video-taped.
Underneath all that, you notice a PS: Please visit the forums and tell others about this guy.
So the first thing you decide to do is slip on one of the masks. You select a green, knitted but very breathable mask. The eyes and mouth/nose slots are completely open, and it doesn't feel too hot. You then proceed to the bed, and the first thing you notice is that he's obviously very wet but not messy. You also notice that there are a ton of tie-downs on the bed, both handcuffs and some simple Velcro soft cuffs.
You decide for the time being that you won't tie up the guy spread-eagled across the bed. And at the same time, you decide that you're too damn horny to wait for any preliminary activity. So you take your index finger and rip a hole right where the guy's ass is. You quickly pull your pants down and take some lube and slather your cock up. You then widen the hole in the diaper enough to slip your cock in, and with a lunge, you ram your very hard cock into the guy's ass. It feels to you extremely tight, almost unbearably tight. When you first rammed your cock in, the guy only grunted. As you proceed to keep on plunging in and out, you hear him start panting, and then he says the first words since you've walked in. What he says is "please fuck me, god that feels so damn good."
You say, "So the bitch likes it, does he? Well, there's a lot more where that came from. When I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk, my little wet bitch." And with that, you start ramming your cock into him hard and fast. You slide your cock all the way to the base, then pull out almost all the way. And each time, you pound his frame. You're absolutely brutal to his ass. You keep up with this for something like 20 minutes. All this time, he's moaning and groaning, and sweat pours out of all his pores. Until you finally start to feel that you're going to cum inside the slutty little bitch like you never have before, and then you say to him, "Your slutty pussy is gonna be bred, you bitch. Are you ready to receive my spunk?" and he replies, "YES DADDY, BREED ME!"
And with one huge yell, you scream out, "Oh, baby, here it comes!" and ramming your cock all the way in, you cum like you never have before. You almost pass out with the extreme feeling that comes over you. And your cumming so much that it feels like gallons are being spewed out of you; you even came so much that when you finally are done, some even manages to leak out around his hole and into the mess that you made of his diaper. | null | null | Authors/diaper-deane/www/Rape fantasy.txt |
95,885 | Purplecat | How to deal with hemorrhoids | You probably think that's a dumb title, but this really is about how you can live with hemorrhoids.
It's something you don't talk about with anyone, so how to deal with them is a big mystery.
I'm talking about the kind that bleeds every time you have a bowel movement and it's a while before you can stop the bleeding. They also bleed when you exercise or do something a little strenuous.
I've had them for about six years, and believe me, they're no fun. I wore Stayfree ultra-thin pads almost daily because my panties would be stained with fecal matter and blood if I didn't. It was like they were draining or something.
I mentioned it to my doctor about six months ago. I expected him to get excited, put me in the hospital, and call in a surgeon, but he just smiled and acted like it was the most common thing in the world and everybody had them. He said there was nothing they could do except surgery, but he didn't recommend surgery.
What really upset me was he didn't even want to look at my butt. I mean, I have a pretty nice butt, at least that's what my husband says. This guy had the perfect opportunity to look at it bare, and he didn't. That was worse than having hemorrhoids. Talk about tearing down a girl's self-esteem.
I didn't want to be cut on, and I'd heard it was a very painful experience. I decided if it was no big deal, I would just live with it. I hated it, though, and was scared to death that they would start bleeding when I was having sex. What a turn-off that would be.
In order for you to understand what I was going through, so you can compare it to your own experience, I'll tell you what my daily routine was.
When I had my morning bowel movement, there was always blood in the bowl, lots of blood. I was afraid to wipe hard, so I cleaned myself by blotting. I used toilet paper to put pressure on my protruding anus until the bleeding stopped. Then I used a washcloth and kept blotting until there were no more stains on the cloth. Then I put on my panties and a pad and went about my day. I never knew when they were going to bleed during the day, and they often did, and even with the pad, blood still got on my panties.
Then it happened. I was putting pressure on after a bowel movement, and since I was becoming a little frustrated with the whole thing, I pushed harder than normal. It felt like my anus turned inside out, or outside in, whatever! Suddenly, I didn't have a protruding anus; it was back to normal, and there was no more blood.
Now I give my butt a good strong wipe and, with another piece of toilet paper, push my anus back where it belongs. Then I scrub my butt real good and forget about the pad. Now my panties stay so clean you could use them for a dinner napkin, except for the normal female stains. Mine gets stained pretty well when I'm writing one of my stories.
I hope I have helped some of you. Please don't tell me that I'm the only person in the world that didn't know about this.
Have a nice day and happy hemorrhoids. | null | null | Authors/Purplecat/4. How to deal with hemorrhoids.txt |
96,139 | Sarah | About Me and My Fetish | You might notice that all the stories are from the point of view of a girl named Sarah. Sarah happens to be my name. I write these stories after imagining several times what it would be like for these things to happen to me. So it's only natural that the main character would be almost exactly like me, name included. I also use the names of people I know for the other characters. This doesn't mean that those people have those personalities. I'm just terrible at coming up with names for characters.
About me: I'm 5'3" (160cm), 143lb (65kg, 10.2 stone), C-Cup, really white (can't tan :( ), red hair just past my shoulders, green eyes, I wax (there's no hair below my head). I'm 23 years old and live in southern California with my Master, Mark, and work as a secretary for a rather pervy lawyer who hired me right out of high school (I never went to college).
Sometimes people ask about why I write these stories. They'll often think it comes from some sort of mental trauma, anger, sadness or some other negative emotion. This isn't the case at all. It's a very happy emotion, and I'm a very happy person. This is hard to explain well. The idea of becoming a delicious meal is a happy one to me. It turns me on. Like how moths are attracted to fire despite the fact that it kills them. I can sympathize with the moths. Though I suppose a moth doesn't understand their fate...
I'm made of meat. Most people will deny that that's what they're made of. I don't deny it, and I happen to have a fetish that revolves around that fact. It's a happy thought that my body would be useful and not wasted. The idea that I might leave behind an old wrinkled corpse that gets buried in a box in the ground, or burned to ash, is very sad... It's wasteful. My meat won't be any good when I'm old though, so for my body to see full use, I'd have to die while I'm still young.
At the same time though, I have an instinct to not die. Every living creature has this basic survival instinct. Therefore, I don't REALLY want my biggest fetish to come true. I take my fantasies, release them into stories here, and add a small amount of prologue to them. This keeps my fetish satisfied while keeping me alive.
How could dying possibly be a good thing in the mind of someone as happy with life as me? Well...
A - The entire body is sexual, inside and out. Being eaten is like oral sex, but everywhere. B - Cooking is an art for the senses of sight, smell and taste, as opposed to most art which is for sight and/or sound. So I'm enjoyed... Savored... Being turned into something that is a form of art. Something greatly enjoyable. C - I become an object for someone else's benefit. I'm not entirely sure why being dehumanized is sexy, but it is. It's not the same thing as degradation. To me, the idea of being food isn't degrading, it's an honor. D - I help to keep others alive, as food is necessary for life. This makes it benevolent. E - The finality of it is orgasmic. I don't really want to die, but I like the idea of completely surrendering myself to another like that. It's the ultimate submission. F - I would assume those who eat me would be sadistic enough to gain pleasure from my pain, so in a way, I would be giving them pleasure. It's the ultimate form of masochism.
I hope that helps for anyone who wanted an explanation. And you don't have to worry about me really climbing onto a grill anytime soon. I keep these purely in fantasy, even if I do try to make them seem as realistic as I can.
I hope you enjoy my fantasies as much as I have!
- Sarah | null | null | Authors/Dinner/AboutMeAndMyFetish.txt |
96,164 | Lolileah | Darlings | You know that moment when you know you've found the girl you want to spend the rest of your life with? I remember the moment that I found my special someone, the person just for me. Her name is Yuki, she's Japanese and, which most guys aren't too cool with, she has two kids: 13 and 3, both girls.
Now I can't say that Yuki is the most beautiful woman in the world, much as I love her. I have to be honest. Her chest isn't as big as some American girls, but it doesn't matter in the slightest to me. Whenever she takes her clothes off, she could get me to do anything. Men don't often say things like this, but I am going to marry her one day.
Yuki doesn't get mad at me, even when I probably deserve it. If she did, I don't doubt that it would be sexy as hell. It's fortunate that she hasn't though. I find it's usually best not to piss off women that let you sleep with them, especially ones that look like her.
This is not about Yuki though, love her to bits though I might. The story is mostly about her daughters, spread out though they are in age. Her oldest, Sadako, is 13. Yes, that's the name of a girl from Japanese horror stories, but she's far from evil. Naughty but not evil.
Her little sister, the toddler, is named Sachi. I love the both of them, which is part of the reason that their mother is still with me. The both of them are cute as a button, and they started to call me daddy without prompting.
The story starts on date night with Sadako or Sadie as we took to calling her. Maybe it was a date and maybe it wasn't. 'Father'-daughter bonding? Yuki had been naked when she suggested it, so one couldn't blame me for agreeing to it.
"Daddy," Sadie had said as we'd passed the playground near her house, "do you love me and Sachi?"
"Of course. Why do you ask?" I turned toward her as I answered, undeniably shocked.
"Would you do anything for us?" No doubt I looked even more shocked now.
"Yes, I love your mother very much, and she loves you. I couldn't say that I love her and be an honest man if I didn't love you as well. This is a strange line of questioning all of a sudden. Are you alright?"
"I'm not dying if that's what you're wondering. I just wanted to ask if you're only doing this for mom and it's a nuisance hanging around with a bratty middle schooler or something else like this..." and here she stood on my toes and gave me a kiss.
Taken by surprise though I was, I still wrapped my arms protectively around her and returned her kiss. Now it was her turn to be pleasantly shocked. Apparently I'm a good kisser or at least that's what I've been told by Yuki.
Emboldened by the return of her kiss plus interest, Sadako stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck. Even standing on my feet, she was certainly shorter than me. I, in turn, grabbed her butt to relieve her toes. She squealed into my mouth in delight. If I was her first love or girlhood crush, I still felt lucky.
Call me a bad 'father' but with her body pressed up against mine due to our positioning, I got rock hard against her flat chest. I'm told that as generations go, parents are less developed than their children. If that was true, Yuki was really not impressive in middle school. What Sadako lacked in size, she made up for with her mother's shape, firmness and arousal, so there was no room to complain.
Sadie was wearing her uniform from school, something that many guys, myself included, fantasized about. My hands found themselves inside her white panties, and luckily she made no protest of the invasion of her personal space. To the contrary, her rubbing of her clit against my hand told me she was getting quite into it.
Our little bonding experience was interrupted by a voice from a passing stranger. She hadn't called the cops, but she would if I kept molesting or raped Sadie. For a second I was tempted to show her what an actual rape felt like since she was so quick to assume it's what I was doing.
Sadie saved me from committing that crime though. Not looking up from her phone, she said, "Fuck off, you old bitch! Leave my boyfriend alone! He's not hurting me. Maybe you should worry about your son and not jump to conclusions about others' kids. Your son is probably at home masturbating as we speak, so maybe you should worry about him instead."
"My son's a good boy. He would never..." she looked out of her element.
"...send pictures of his junk to female classmates? I suppose that I should be offended and tell the cops, but it's actually not too shabby."
"Why that little bastard!" With something else to direct her outrage toward, the woman stormed off.
"Thanks for that," I breathed into my little girl's neck.
"You're welcome, daddy. She was pissing me off. In Japan I'm of age. She's in for a surprise when she gets home. I didn't lie about the dick pic, but I told her son she fantasizes about being raped and impregnated by him. I told him it's not real if he stops when she asks. That's not really rape. He needs to show her he's a man and her boss, and he won't take her shit anymore. I also said if he shows me a video of it and her positive pregnancy test, I would give him a reward at school. Not sex since I am only yours. Something else."
I kissed the top of her head affectionately. "You are way too smart, sweetie! I love you so much right now. You better let me watch the video with you. You know, to be sure it's inappropriate for you to watch."
"Of course, daddy. You're the only one who I want to see it with. It can be our date night movie. Now, before we got so rudely interrupted, you were about to make me not-so-innocent. I hope you didn't change your mind. It's not every girl that wants a guy to be her first, not every girl who begs her dad to fuck her with the words 'fuck me, daddy!' Please don't make me beg."
Like hell I was going to! The woman's concern was warranted though, since a girl had been raped and sodomized in that park recently. I wouldn't dream of doing that to Sadako, so she worried needlessly, but I understood. I was going to fuck her though, that part she had right. Sadie was more than ready.
She undid her uniform blouse, and I was pleased to see she wore no bra. As her 'dad' I should have given her a scolding, but she didn't have need of one. I don't say it to insult her breasts. Rather it's a compliment to how firm and perky they sat on her chest. She gasped as my warm mouth and tongue sucked and nibbled her sensitive flesh.
"Daddy, stop! I'll pee!" It was a bit surprising that she hadn't 'discovered herself' and learned that pissing and cumming aren't the same or linked. If this was not only going to be her introduction into womanhood but was also her first orgasm, I was blessed far beyond what I deserved.
I wrapped my arm around my darling's back and lowered her to the soft foam on which we stood. Her clothes formed a bed beneath her, a barrier between her purity and whatever filth the brats that played here had left. It felt perverted, and fucking in such a public place was dangerous as all hell with a girl this young. Still, a man has a man's needs, and she was telling me to go for it.
I would've been all sweet and romantic, but she had her arms and legs around me by that point, and going slowly had gone out the window. Of course I still loved her, and it's not as if that pushed me straight into jackhammer mode, but it doesn't mean I abstained either.
I would be the last person to be disappointed with the sultry moan that Sadie let loose as I bottomed out in her pussy. She said it didn't hurt, and she wasn't a bleeder either, but she said not every virgin girl is. I only cared about hurting her, not proof that she was chaste.
Moaning is a huge turn-on for me too. Mom was one, why shouldn't her daughter be? There's no way it would be a one-time thing, tonight or ever. Certainly not when she said "I love you oh so much, daddy" with her tears sparkling like diamonds in the light.
Of course I reciprocated that love. Over and over and still over again. If she was the good kind of sore the next day, blame me :) By the time we were done, by the time I took a picture of her dripping snatch as the only proof I wanted for that night, she couldn't hold it in anymore. Each time she breathed, more squeezed out. If only I had a camera in her panties, but I suppose that really would make me a perverted daddy.
She put all her clothes back on like nothing had happened out of the ordinary this date night. She then gave me a hug and a kiss that made me weak, and I knew she hadn't forgotten. I suppose she couldn't really with that much stuff inside and dripping into her underwear.
When we got home, Yuki accosted us at the door. "Did you rape her or something?"
"Mommy! How dare you?! Not every guy wants to rape girls, even pretty girls like me." Couldn't dispute any of that. "Besides, it's not like he could rape me back."
"Sadako Yoshimura! A young lady doesn't rape men, especially not their daddies." Personal experience?Yuki pulled her daughter's panties to the side and saw the large amount of semen in them as she heard more splashing onto the hardwood floor. "You really are a greedy, selfish little slut after all. Guess daddy will have to please me another way tonight." I didn't mind. I pretended to hate going down on Yuki, but that was all a charade. I loved her and loved tasting her pussy. Tonight was going to be a great night.
I woke in between these two beauties, feeling more lucky and drained than I'd ever dreamed about in high school or beyond. If Yuki wasn't going to rat me out and neither was Sadie, then I had dodged a bullet. Sadie was the first to stir and break the silence.
"Daddy, I won't tell if..." Shit, here was the blackmail bit. "...if you rape Sachi too. She won't tell because she's such a slut." I guess girls can be cruel with their implications of sexual promiscuity.
"Be nice to your sister. She's only 3. You shouldn't talk about her like that."
Sadie just looked at me like I had lost it. "Mama said not to lie, so I didn't. She loves to ride my face like mom rode yours last night. It must be lonely sleeping all alone while we're in here together. We should call her. Don't be a chicken shit. Men should show their love for girls, even if it's considered rape under the law." "SACHIIIIIII! DADDY WANTS YOU IN HERE SO HE CAN RAPE YOU!!!!" Bet all the neighbors heard that. Thanks, my darling Sadako.
Little Sachi came around the door, sleep still in her eyes. She was my third darling. According to Sadie, even without penetrating her, it would still be rape under the law, but she would tell if I didn't. Catch-22 situation.
"Good morning," chorused the ladies in bed with me.
"Good morning, darling," I chimed in.
"Hello, mommy and daddy, Sadie." She was just so cute!
Sachi climbed into bed with us to go back to sleep, snuggled up against us after her sister's rude awakening. That's not why she had been summoned, though. I might not be up for fucking her, but she was certainly about to get a tongue-lashing.
"EEEEKKKK!!!" came Sachi's pleasantly shocked voice as I pulled her underwear down, sat her on my face, and made a morning meal of her little slit. She might not yet be in my 'hot' age range, but with Yuki as her mother, I was sure she would get there. Besides, if she could enjoy herself, age really didn't matter to me.
"See?" came Sadie's voice, "didn't I tell you she's a slut, daddy?"
"You should talk," I breathed into Sachi. "You were moaning like a whore last night."
Sachi's slim frame got off my face as she told her sister to stop being mean to daddy. She then proceeded to smear lube all over my very stiff prick before positioning it at her vagina's entrance.
"Sachi, what are you doing?" we all said together.
"You all got to show daddy that you love him, so why can't I?" She had a point, but we still worried what sex could do to a girl her age. We needn't have worried, since like her sister before her, there was no pain, and she didn't force herself to take more than she could handle in her tight little cunny.
Her mother and sister clapped as Sachi's pussy milked the cum out of my prick as she humped me. It was really the least they could do after the position they'd placed us in. As Sachi slumped onto my chest after her first ever penetration, I held her tight as she whispered, "did I do a good job proving that I love you, daddy?"
"Yes, though I would have been fine just licking your pussy, you know?"
"I know, but mommy and Sadie said that the best way to prove to someone that you love them when you're not 18 is to let them rape you. Looks like they will have to be punished. You shouldn't fill a little girl's head with thoughts of being raped, certainly not your little sister or daughter."
As it turned out, there wouldn't be a need for me to step in and punish any of my darlings. Nature was taking care of that for me. One after another, Yuki and Sadie missed their periods. Both later tested positive for one of the most-dreaded sexually-transmitted diseases of all time: pregnancy. I guess karma really is a bitch. | null | null | Authors/Lolileah/Romantic and Consensual/Statutory Doesn't Make It Rape/Darlings.txt |
98,162 | The Naughty Gaffer | Jennifer and Amber — Watching Cartoons | You have probably read a few of my adventures with Jennifer and Amber, the nymphets that come to me as a gift from God. Which I mean quite literally; they are only in the world you and I know when they are with me. I awaken to find one or both of them, we share a blessed and delightful time, and usually we fall asleep together. When I awaken, they have returned to their home.
Jennifer and Amber occupy a special place in my life, one my family can't fill. In one of their roles, they are sex playmates for me. In another, they are two dear young girls that I can spoil and indulge and nurture without interfering with their parents. They aren't really young or old. Our concepts of age simply don't apply to nymphets, who come into being for a particular human friend. I haven't dared to ask what happens when I die, but I am sure that the nymphets then become something else close to God. After all, they have never sinned, any more than any other angel sins.
Like many retired fellows, I enjoy napping whenever I wish during the day. There is such a luxuriant feeling as a nap begins to creep over one, seducing and inviting one to let everything mind itself for a while and to float into a doze. In my own case, the temptation of a nap includes the possibility of finding a nymphet or both of them waiting when I wake, and so it happened this afternoon. I awoke with a sharp appetite for supper and a warm sense of joyful well-being. I knew my nymphets were in the house before I heard them playing at backgammon.
"Hi, Uncle Grouchy!" came two high squealing voices. "We're almost done," said Jennifer. "You're almost done, you mean," said Amber. I could see her position on the table was far better than Jennifer's was.
The only minor problem with backgammon is that my girls tend to cheat. They use pixie dust to make the dice do amazing things and the games sometimes end in fights, which send dice flying and pixie dust scattering and end up with bare bottoms across my lap for spankings. Did I say problem? Why would that be a problem?
This particular game ended peacefully with a victory for Amber. She appears to be about twelve, an elf who has just turned the first corner to puberty. She has tiny but formed breasts, a high forehead, long blond hair and a delightfully small, round bottom. Her best friend forever, Jennifer, looks around fourteen. She looks like a seraph who has taken a few more steps into womanhood. Her breasts are larger than Amber's but still girlish and small. Her waist and her hips are more formed. She also has a fine spray of flaming pubic hair to match her bright red head. Amber has a pubic area as smooth as her lovely bottom is. Each girl is marvelous, perhaps even perfect, of her kind.
After the game, we got in each other's way in the kitchen to make dinner. I made fried chicken and tater tots and we enjoyed dinner together, almost like when my son and daughter were children instead of parents themselves. The girls talked about their friends and the studlings, the male equivalent of nymphets. "You'd laugh silly if you knew who in your church gets to play with some of the studlings," Amber said. But they keep their secrets and I still wonder who.
We washed the dishes after supper and the girls pulled me into the living room to watch cartoons. I have enjoyed the Warner Brothers cartoons for more than fifty years and the girls like them too. So we settled on the floor together. It is one of the effects of my nymphets; when they are with me, my body is that of a man of around thirty-five and not my rather greater age. I can get onto the floor and stand up again easily.
I was leaning my back against the sofa and my girls were on each side of me, lying on their tummies. They scooted back to put their bottoms close to me and their feet were raised, their shins resting against the couch and their ankles crossed in that lovely pose. They were dressed similarly: a short denim skirt, T-shirt, and bare feet. I had not yet glimpsed their panties, not even when they sat cross-legged on the floor during the backgammon game, but I was sure I would see and feel their panties shortly.
Their position on the floor, with their legs raised and their chins in their hands as they watched Bugs Bunny, left their skirts just covering their bottoms and hiding their panties from me. I placed a hand on each nymphet's lovely little rump and they smiled over their shoulders at me for a moment before turning back to the cartoons.
I rubbed their bottoms for a few moments and then I stroked the backs of each girl's thighs. Their pale skin is very smooth and soft, a wonderful sensation. I caressed the inside of each of these four nice thighs and then I ran my hand up each girl's thigh to her bottom. I could feel their panties now, soft cotton under my fingers and soft-firm bottom under the lovely feel of panties.
I enjoyed this tactile pleasure for a while and then I gently lifted Amber's skirt up to show her panties. She looked around again and smiled when I did. Jennifer looked over her shoulder. "Uncle Grouchy, play fair. Now you should lift up my skirt." So of course I did.
Amber was wearing light blue panties with butterflies on them. Jennifer's panties were pink with Hello Kitty on the right side of her bottom. Their panties were tight and cute across their lovely bottoms and they disappeared between their legs most intriguingly. My darlings squealed and giggled as I patted their little bums but they kept their legs pressed firmly together. I focused on Amber for a while, rubbing her bottom and slipping my fingers under her panties from the leg bands to feel her bare bottom. With my index finger in her panties, I stroked across her bottom cheek and down between her legs. She had her thighs pressed firmly closed, although she giggled, and I could only bring my finger down a little way. It was just enough to feel a bit of her vagina and an enticing damp sensation.
Now it was time to enjoy Jennifer's bum. I did the same thing, easing my finger through her leg band and stroking her bottom under her panties. She also kept her legs firmly together so I could just touch her vagina a bit.
We watched a couple of cartoons while I played with my girls' panties this way. After about ten minutes of this game, I pulled Amber's panties down and then Jennifer's. Their bare bottoms were delightful to see. Amber's is smaller and a little less rounded. Jennifer's bottom is that perfect shape you often see in teen girls whose breasts are still growing. They giggled when I pulled their panties down, as they always do, and they pretended to pay attention to the next cartoon while I was rubbing and caressing them on their bare bums. They relaxed their legs a little and even spread their thighs slightly. Naturally I accepted this invitation to stray farther down each girl's lovely bottom to touch her between her legs. I could feel their soft vaginas now and the dampness that formed there as they became more excited.
I enjoyed this for several minutes. Amber finally said to Jennifer, "Hey, b f f, what would cartoons look like upside downy?" Suddenly each girl pulled her panties up and they turned onto their backs. They put their feet up on the couch. This caused their skirts to fall away and show me their panties again, but now in front.
This view was as nice as the one I had enjoyed of their bottoms. I tickled up their thighs and I touched each nymphet on her mons. I could feel Jennifer's fringe of hair through her panties and I could feel how smooth Amber's mons was. Of course I also slipped my finger into each girl's panties as I had before. I had a good chance to caress each of their vaginas and to enjoy their softness inside.
After the next cartoon, Jennifer announced, "That was fun, but I'm done with cartoons." Amber seconded the motion and I turned the television off. My girls stood up. Jennifer gathered the hem of Amber's T-shirt in her hands, Amber raised her arms, and Jennifer pulled her shirt off to show me Amber's nice little breasts. Then Jennifer raised her arms and Amber did her the same courtesy.
Their skirts were for me, though. They just had elastic at the waist, so I quickly pulled Amber's down and she kicked it away. In fact, she made it vanish somehow. I pulled Jennifer's skirt down also and it disappeared as well.
What a charming situation I was in! I was seated cross-legged on the floor. Two small adolescent girls were eagerly waiting for me to touch them. One was a fire-hair with fine small breasts, a flat tummy and round mons and bottom under her panties. The second was a little smaller and younger, breasts barely shaping her bare chest but nipples at attention. Her body had less shape but still was delightful and her panties covered her — no, they decorated her, as Jennifer's panties decorated her.
When I got up to my knees, I was nearly as tall as my girls. My face was just at the right position to kiss Jennifer's breasts first while I hugged my nearly-naked Amber to me. I kissed Jennifer's lips and then her breasts, each nipple in turn. Of course I licked them and grazed them softly with my teeth. Jennifer giggled and sighed and pulled me close to her.
After a few minutes enjoying Jennifer's breasts, I turned my head to find Amber was being a little impatient for her turn. As I hugged Jennifer to us, I played with Amber's breasts in my mouth. They are very delicate and sensitive for their tiny size and Amber is always eager for me to play with them.
I considered whether to strip them of their panties here in the living room.I decided to take them to the bedroom first. I stood up, and my girls jumped up on me, a tangle of arms around my neck and legs around my waist. I got an arm under each girl's panty-decorated bottom to get a good grip. We walked rather clumsily up the hall this way and into our bedroom. I set my darlings on the bed.
This turned out to be the cue for a pillow fight. You can imagine how sexy it was to see these two tiny beauties, jumping around in only their panties, laughing and hitting each other (and sometimes me) with the pillows. After several minutes, I finally snagged the pillows and put them where they belonged. Now the girls stood on the bed, side by side, looking down at their feet. They knew that a pillow fight would end in a spanking.
As they stood there, I undressed. When I was down to my skivvies, the girls dropped to their knees on the quilt and encumbered me as they pulled my briefs down past my raging erection. I got on the bed and sat with my back against the headboard. After a minute or two of wrestling around, I had both girls over my naked lap, my erection parked against Amber's bare side. I pulled their panties down and I gave them a love spanking for a few minutes, patting each girl's bottom back and forth until I could hardly stand my arousal.
I pulled Jennifer's panties back up and then Amber's. They sprawled and crawled across me while they took each other's panties off as a show for me, one I liked watching very much. We were finally a tangle of naked old man looking young and naked young girls looking marvelous.
Amber crowded on top of me while Jennifer lay beside me. I played with Amber's breasts and her bottom, and she straddled me, pulling me into her marvelously tight vagina to ride me cowgirl style. I enjoyed the wonderful tightness of her vaginal lips and then the whole of her pussy around me. Amber and Jennifer both love sex, and they both enjoy the cowgirl position at times, but Amber is the real rodeo queen. She rode me masterfully, bringing us to a shaking climax after a long and marvelous ride.
Nymphet magic can do almost anything sexual. After we came, Amber and I pulled into a hug with Jennifer, and skin pressed skin all up and down our bodies. You could say I was in the middle because I was under the two of them, but we were a pile or a triangle, and really each of us was in the middle of our circle of sex and love.
When both girls come to me, as they usually do, one of them has to be first, of course. Then we always share time in a sexy pile like this before the second girl — tonight it was Jennifer — brings me back to a strong erection. Jennifer likes cowgirl, but she likes to have me on top even more. She maneuvered our pile so she was on the bottom, I was between her legs, and Amber lay beside us to encourage us. I kissed Jennifer's throat and shoulders, down her chest to her breasts, down her tummy to her vagina. I licked her there, across the silky pubic hair and into her oh-so-delicate fold.
Now I was ready to enter her. I moved into position as Jennifer opened her bare legs wider and took my penis in her hand as Amber had done. Between us, we guided my cock into her wet vagina. Jennifer's vagina is as tight as Amber's, as tight as legends say virgins will be. My only virgin in the world had been my beloved — my only sex partner at all — and she had been wonderfully tight, but I can't speak for general experience. I had read a lot of smut, though, and I had had many smutty fantasies, and my nymphets made my fantasies into reality.
Intercourse is wonderful, but it always must end. Jennifer and I were spent, and I pulled Amber up against my chest, back into the intimate pile of bare skin that meant sex was done and we were basking in the glow of our love. I could already feel sleep coming on me, feel the girls' bodies grow less substantial in my arms, and then they were gone, and I was waking in the deep night with Diamond Lil purring on my chest. | null | null | Authors/Naughty_Gaffer/Jennifer_Amber_WatchingCartoons.txt |
98,265 | kinkabella | Rendezvous With The Bitch | You may already be a little bit acquainted with the person I am about to fantasize about while performing for you. In one of the entries about her in my Erotic Stories & Fantasies blog, you might have seen me refer to her as 'The Bitch,' and I will continue to call her by that name throughout this task. I hope it isn't cheating to use her for this task because I have actually had one or two fantasies of sexual rendezvous with her in the past and even written a little along these lines, although I won't be using these for this task. It's also been more than five years since I saw her, and with the benefit of the intervening time, I may have mellowed (just slightly) in my attitude toward her, but I think I still have enough antipathy in reserve to properly complete my assignment for you.
The Bitch and my connection with her can be described simply as this. Back in 1999, my husband started working with her - a job that, at the time, he used to do from home, so she used to be in my house quite a lot. I took an instant dislike to her. It was an intuitive thing at first where I was able to clearly read her thinly veiled intentions to seduce my husband. I should mention right up front here that this all happened at a time before my husband and I got involved in the BDSM scene and, by extension, polyamorous relationships we explored with one another's mutual consent. She did end up having a brief fling with my husband, although this was merely a stepping-stone for her toward her ultimate goal of wrecking our marriage.
I always remember her as a spiteful, nasty woman. Sure, she acted otherwise and initially treated me with compliments about this, that, or the other thing, but she was totally transparent and insincere. Another thing I could never stand about her was the way she dressed. It feels a little odd to say this now, since I happen to enjoy dressing up in 'slutty clothes' from time to time, although I still won't do it unless it's to go out at night and only then, if we're going on to the BDSM club afterward. But The Bitch dressed like a slut all the time, which might not have been so bad if she was twenty years younger.
The Bitch's shoulder-length hair is dyed red, but the black roots of her true hair color are still evident. Her emerald green eyes sparkle - not a dancing, happy kind of sparkle but rather an icy glint that fixes me in a stare and forces me to look away. She's surprised to see me pay her this unexpected visit at her home and makes no attempt to hide her disdain of me like she usually does whenever she comes to my house.
She's wearing a long, almost transparent nightgown and high-heeled fluffy pink pumps. Her make-up is its usual overdone paste of rouge that accents her strong cheekbones in such a way as to make them stand out like ripe plums and make her look almost clownish. Heavy dark eyeliner and mascara add to her slutty freakishness; her lip-gloss a garish red that taints her nicotine-stained teeth.
The Bitch's face has a smug expression when I finally turn to face her. She casually strolls past me and flops onto the sofa. I ask again, this time sounding more determined for an answer, whether my husband is there. The Bitch laughs to herself and idly lights herself a cigarette from the flame of a gold cigarette lighter.
"He's not here," she says as she draws a deep lungful of smoke.
I ignore the irritating cloud of smoke she blows out into the room between us and glance in the direction of a noise I hear come from somewhere at the end of a hallway out of the lounge room. The urge to take control of the situation and march down the hallway in search of my husband is strong, but The Bitch and her indifference to me isn't giving me a strong enough incentive to do so. A brief stalemate ensues while The Bitch reaches for her wine and sips a mouthful.
She has an expression on her face that suggests she regards me as a joke. A curiosity even, like she's a cat and I'm a mouse that strayed too far into its territory.
"He's not here, but you can look for yourself if you like," she says.
I don't believe her and nor do I trust her. My ears try to listen above the music for any more sounds from the hallway. Her invitation for me to search her house has caught me by surprise, and I'm momentarily paralyzed with the indecision of what to do next.
"You can look," The Bitch repeats, "but only on my terms.""There's a catch. I knew there would be a catch. I eye her suspiciously as she sits there, casually smoking her cigarette and sipping her wine.
"What are they?" I ask. I'm afraid to hear the answer because I can sense her toying with me.
"Simple, really. In fact, if you find your husband here, I'll even let you keep him and never bother you again."
"OK," I agreed. I started to turn on my heel when The Bitch stopped me.
"Not so fast. If I make this promise to you, you'll have to do more than say OK."
"What?" I asked.
The Bitch said nothing and instead continued to finish her cigarette. Her eyes were all over me while I nervously waited for her to speak again.
"I will let you search my house room-by-room, starting with this one," she said.
There was clearly no sign of my husband hiding in her lounge room, unless he was standing behind the drapes, which I imagined would be extremely unlikely. But I agreed and waited for The Bitch to elaborate.
"For each room you search, if you don't find your husband in it, you are to give me a piece of your clothing."
I felt my jaw drop momentarily and had to consciously close my mouth again. My eyes suddenly burned and felt very dry from staring without blinking at The Bitch.
"The choice is yours," The Bitch smiled. "Of course, if you don't agree to my terms, I will continue to fuck your husband and there won't be a thing you can do about it."
The Bitch said 'continue to fuck'. The words rang in my ears and confirmed my worst suspicions. I considered walking out there and then, but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of winning like that. If I could just keep my marriage together long enough, I was sure The Bitch would eventually grow tired of him and leave us alone.
"OK," I mumbled.
"OK, what?"
"OK!" I said, more emphatically. "You win. I'll play your stupid game if that's what it takes. And you'll leave us alone? For good?"
"That's what I said," The Bitch grinned. "I know you don't like me, and you think you're so much better than me, but I'm not a liar."
I was already convinced she was right on two out of three counts, but it was difficult to openly agree with her last point.
"What?" The Bitch raised one of her pencil-thin, over-plucked eyebrows at me. "You don't believe me, or what?"
"I believe you," I said. The lie would surely have been clear on my face.
"Good. Well, let's begin then."
I watched as The Bitch rose from the sofa and wandered past me. She made a grandly exaggerated bow to look beneath the coffee table and then confirmed to me the obvious. "He's not under here, is he?"
"No," I mumbled. If she was trying to be funny, I had no intention of laughing. Not even to humor her.
"Behind here?" she asked, holding the drapes and then whipping them open.
"No," I mumbled again.
"Well, he's nowhere in this room then, is he?"
I felt a lump of nerves tighten in the back of my throat as The Bitch stood in front of me. She snapped her fingers impatiently and nonchalantly told me to remove my shoes. It occurred to me I was only wearing enough items of clothing to look in five more rooms, but I remained confident of finding my husband in one of them.
After I slipped off my shoes, I started to walk in the direction of the hallway.
"Just a minute," The Bitch called me to stop. "You haven't looked over here yet."
There was no dividing wall between the lounge and dining area, but The Bitch clearly was going to count it as a separate room. Her dining table was made of solid glass on a marble pedestal base, and I could see from where I was standing there was no sign whatsoever of my husband being over there. The Bitch insisted I continue the charade, and by the time I'd followed her through the motions of looking through the dining room and the adjacent kitchen, I was down to my bra and panties.
The Bitch led me over to the hallway and stopped me from marching straight to the door at the end of it, which I assumed would be the master bedroom.
"This room first," she said.
The first bedroom on the right-hand side of the hallway was completely empty except for an ironing board and a small sewing desk. I didn't even need to look in the clothes cupboard because its door was open, and there wasn't anything in it except for a few black dresses and leather jackets suspended there on thick wooden hangers.
Things started to feel decidedly grim after I surrendered my bra to The Bitch. I felt especially embarrassed by her crude comments about my breasts and the way my nipples had visibly swollen to become tense and erect.
I followed her the short distance from the first bedroom to the second, also on the right side of the hallway.
"This is getting interesting," The Bitch smirked.
I refused to give her the satisfaction of a response.
"There's still one more bedroom after this one, and your husband might not be in either," she said. "What do you want to do? I mean, if he's not in this one, you won't have anything else to trade, will you?"
"No," I said softly and solemnly.
"It's your choice, of course. I should probably tell you I don't intend returning your clothes if you don't find him."
I shot a worried look at The Bitch.
"If he is here, you can have them all back, but if he's not... Should I have told you this earlier?" The Bitch laughed.
I couldn't speak. My knees suddenly felt weak, and a rush of dread washed over my body, leaving a trail of cold, numbed skin in its wake.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" she asked.
There was a distinct noise of movement in the last bedroom to convince me I was close to finding my husband. But first, I would have to check the second bedroom and then surrender my panties. My hand trembled as it reached for the cold, white porcelain doorknob.
The room was, as I half-expected, just a bedroom. It was larger than the first, neat and tidy, and with a queen-sized mattress ensemble filling most of it. The mirrored built-in wardrobe was filled with more of The Bitch's clothes as well as a large number of high-heeled shoes and boots.
"Not here either, hmm?" she said.
"No," I mumbled, put my head down, and tried to sneak past her back into the hallway.
"Not so fast," she said. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
I slipped quickly out of my panties and reluctantly handed them over to The Bitch.
"These feel a little damp!" she suddenly laughed and held my panties up to her nose to sniff them.
There was no way to hide the thorough shame and stomach-turning disgust I felt caused by her perverse and honest taunt.
"You've had your fun," I whispered. My voice became choked up in my throat. I couldn't bear to face The Bitch.
"Are you ready to look in bedroom number three?" she asked.
I nodded my head and mumbled 'yes'.
"Good, but we have a little problem here, don't we?"
"We do?" I asked, again feeling crushed by the gravity of the situation.
"Yes. What if I let you look in the next room and you don't find your husband in it?"
I shrugged without committing to any answer. There was a long and terribly anxious moment for me to wait before The Bitch offered me what she obviously thought was a helpful suggestion.
"I'll tell you what," she said.
I listened silently as The Bitch spoke slowly and without the slightest hint of offering me any other option. It would be either this, or face the dreadful prospect of driving all the way back home across town, completely naked and in the knowledge I would likely lose my husband forever to this horrible, nasty, conniving bitch.
"There is a man in my bedroom and it might even be your husband."
My hopes lifted, but only slightly.
"How well do you think you know him?" The Bitch asked. "Your husband. Do you think you'd be able to recognize him if you were blindfolded?"
This was certainly a trick question, but I believed I could. The Bitch's assertion that she could recognize him that way was all it took for me to agree to the blindfold.
I shivered as The Bitch blindfolded me with the satin sash of her nightgown. She tied it tight and then told me to wait a moment, which I did and used the time to let my eyes become accustomed to the darkness.
"Now, you're not to say anything when I take you in there. OK?"
"Yes," I replied.
"And you're not allowed to remove the blindfold either. OK?"
The Bitch's voice sounded like it was now in a different part of the room, but I agreed to do as I was told.
"Just to make sure, I'm going to tie your hands behind your back. OK?"
I was less sure about this, but in the brief moment I paused to think about it, The Bitch had already grabbed my wrists and pinned them behind my back. The cold steel and ratchet sound of manacles snapping around my wrists caused an instant sensation of the chill of goosebumps to break out in a rash all over my naked body.
"I don't have to gag you as well to stop you from saying anything, do I?"
"No!" I said, alarmed that The Bitch might make me completely helpless.
"No," she echoed my response in a more reassuring tone. "Besides, how will you be able to identify your husband if he can't get his cock in your mouth?"
My heart suddenly leapt to my mouth. The suggestion, as well as the sudden and worrying thought it might not even be my husband in The Bitch's bedroom, filled me with dread.
"What's that?" The Bitch asked.
I couldn't speak and wouldn't, even if I could, vocalize my deepest inner fear.
"Aw, come on!" The Bitch laughed. "You'll get your husband back soon enough."
And with that, The Bitch pinched and twisted my nipples until I yelped at the pain she caused to the sensitive buds.
"We don't want him to think you're not excited to see him," The Bitch said after she released her tight grip on my nipples."They continued to throb as she then guided me out of the second bedroom and toward the one at the end of the hallway.
"Remember, not a word and do exactly what I say. Or else, no more husband for you. Understand?"
"Yes," I whispered.
I could hear the door open in front of me and then felt The Bitch gently push me forward into the room.
"Stop," she said after I'd taken several slow steps. "I'm going to help you sit on a chair here, but don't be alarmed. It's only a dildo on its seat..."
Before I could say anything in protest, The Bitch had her hands on my shoulders and she was forcing me around to make me sit. The dildo she'd warned me of felt thick and quite large, but it penetrated me easily and stole my breath. I struggled and squirmed and felt profoundly humiliated by what she was doing to me. The chair didn't feel like it had any back to it and was likely just a stool.
The Bitch's hands were still pressing down on my shoulders when I felt somebody else in the room coiling a rope around one of my ankles. They felt like the hands of a man, but I couldn't tell whether or not they belonged to my husband. I nearly called out, but The Bitch interrupted.
"Indulge me here," she said. "You want your husband back all for yourself, don't you?"
"Yes," I stammered as my ankles were drawn back and bound to the back legs of the stool.
"Good. Then you won't mind me having one last fuck of his cock," she laughed.
I felt floored by the thought that my husband was now going to have sex with The Bitch right there in the room with me bound and impaled in front of them.
"And remember, not a word from you. Do you hear?"
The Bitch's voice was suddenly hot and close to the side of my face. I felt my heart miss a beat and turned my face away when she tried to kiss me on the lips. The horrible, strong scent of her cheap perfume irritated my nose and nearly made me choke.
I was relieved when I sensed The Bitch moving away from me again - a short-lived moment of relief which evaporated just as quickly when I felt the dildo packed in my pussy unexpectedly begin to vibrate and gyrate inside me.
"No reason while you shouldn't have a little fun as well," The Bitch laughed from across the room.
I gasped and tried to calm my breathing as the dildo came to life in my pussy. The buzzing was loud and its sounds reverberated through the wooden seat beneath me to fill the room with its noise. I could also hear a bed squeaking in front of me somewhere. The Bitch's voice cooed in time with the slow, rhythmic bed-squeaks.
The sound of their fucking grew louder and more urgent, although I still couldn't hear anything of the man. Just The Bitch making noises about how good his cock felt and the bed bouncing. The incessant buzzing inside me and against my clitoris began to rob me of all my other senses. I nibbled my lower lip at first to hold back whimpered sounds of pleasure that desperately wanted to gush from my mouth.
"Yeah! Fuck me, baby," The Bitch grunted. "Look at that little slut getting off over there and fuck me hard!"
It became impossible to hold back any longer and I started to whimper and almost sob at the intensity of the pleasure.
"That's it, you little slut. Tell everybody how much you want some real cock!"
"I can't!" I wailed between shrieks of tortured delight.
The bed squeaks now sounded frenzied and my body squirmed and thrashed as it tried to stay in time with them. The Bitch was screaming out the nearness of her own orgasm and then, after the bed squeaks suddenly stopped, she moaned with the loudest, most spine-tingling sound of pleasure I'd ever heard.
"Hurry up and cum, slut!" The Bitch said.
I could barely hear her through the fuzzy haze of my reeling thoughts.
"We know you can't hold back. Beg for it! Tell us how much you want to cum!"
The Bitch's voice was suddenly close to me.
"Are you ready to cum? Are you!"
"Yes! Oh yes!" I gasped and squealed.
A large, hard cock still disgustingly wet with The Bitch's juices suddenly plunged into my open mouth. It quickly fucked my face for a few seconds and, right at that moment when I felt myself about to explode with an orgasm I knew would knock me senseless, the blindfold was roughly pulled from my head. In that sudden and unexpected few seconds of shock, when the cock was pulsating and then flooding my mouth with hot, foul tasting jism and I was myself in the throes of an sensory-overload orgasm, I looked up and saw the face of The Bitch, beaming and laughing. Beside her a man I'd never, ever seen before - his face contorted in a wild grimace of unbridled pleasure as he emptied the last of his spunk into my mouth and reveled in the sight of me swallowing it all. | null | Chapter One | Authors/kinkabella/BDSMAcademy/Rendezvous_with_The_Bitch-Chapter01.txt |
98,342 | null | Expect The Unexpected | Yusuke "What's she doing here? Oh yeah, now I remember."
Yusuke sets his glass down on a table, stares at Botan and his dirty mind gets the best of him. He decides to look under the blankets.
Yusuke "Heh, heh. I never noticed how hot she is. I think I'll check to see if she's wearing anything, just to be sure."
Yusuke runs his hands over the covers, grabs the top corners, and starts to pull them back when suddenly, Botan sits up straight. She's still a little sleepy, so she doesn't notice Yusuke standing above her at first. Yusuke is so scared that he's frozen dead in his tracks. After a minute or so, Botan finally notices Yusuke.
Botan "Aaaaaaaah! Yu...Yusuke?! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" (She yells as she pulls the thick covers back over her.)
Yusuke "Uh, I was just checking to, uh you know, see if you were all right, and, uh everything."
Botan "Yeah right, don't give me that! You're a hentai, not to mention a terrible liar! You're a man & I know exactly what you were doing, so don't try to deny it."
Yusuke "Botan, you know I'm not the kind of person to..."
Botan "Oh well, I can't really say I blame you. I mean, I do have a real sexy body, for a human. I could show you what I mean if you want. So how about it, Mr. Spirit Detective?"
Yusuke "Oh hell yeah! But just so we're fair, I'll show you my goods too."
Botan "Now there's a good idea, but don't get too excited by me yet, ok?"
Botan stands up and unties her pajama bottoms. Yusuke watches in total amazement as Botan's pajamas fall around her ankles and she steps out of them. Yusuke looks up and down her body after she's completely naked and gets hard. Botan has the most beautiful body he's ever seen [not to mention she's the only girl he's ever seen naked]. She has a very nice, big pair of firm round breasts capped with little pink nipples, a nice, slender waist, a nice, tight ass, a flat, thin belly, and a nice, pink, pussy with an arousing scent emitting from it.
Botan "Ok Yusuke, now it's your turn. You better not be disappointing, if you know what I mean."
Yusuke "Give me a break. Actually, I think you'll be very impressed, Botan."
Yusuke takes off his shirt, exposing his big biceps and powerful chest. Then he takes off his pants, revealing his hard 10" and Botan gets wetter, making her scent even stronger. He's very big, especially to Botan, who has never seen a guy's dick in her life. She's so overcome with desire, she gets down on her hands and knees and shoves his hard dick in her mouth. Yusuke is shocked beyond all belief. Botan starts sucking his cock, sending waves and waves of pleasure crashing through his body. He feels an orgasm approaching, but he uses all of his strength to hold his cum back for later.
Yusuke "Oh Botan, you are so damn good! You're so awesome, in fact, I've been hot for you since the first time I saw you."
Those words stunned Botan. No one had ever told her that before, that made her feel good. She takes his dick out of her mouth.
Botan "Do you really mean that Yusuke?"
Yusuke "Of course I do."
Botan "Yusuke, what about Kayko?"
Yusuke "What about her? I like you a lot more. Kayko never let me have any kind of fulfillment with her. You are so much cooler, you aren't afraid to show your sexual excitement or your sexual desire. I think I'll leave Kayko so I can be with you."
Botan "Yusuke, I want you to eat me out! Make me cum! I want you to show me how much you really love me. Make me feel your love, got it?!"
Botan lies on the floor and Yusuke buries his face in her hot pussy. Her smell was now so strong, he got even harder. He stuck his tongue deep in her cunt.
Botan "Oooh! Oh, Yusuke! Oh yeah! More, more, more! I'm Cumming!"
Yusuke "Yeah, I know! It's all over my face! It's so good!"
Botan's orgasm crashed through her body. Her sex juices flooded out of her warm, glistening cunt. Yusuke raised his girl cum covered face out of Botan's soaked pussy and smiled at her.
Botan (laughing) "Oh, Yusuke, I'm so sorry, but you look so funny with my cum all over our face!"
Yusuke "Don't be sorry, I enjoyed having your sweet, warm cum squirted all over my face! Hey, how about having sex now?"
Botan "Well, I don't know. I'm still a virgin, and I've heard it really hurts the first time."
Yusuke "(really surprised) What, you're a virgin? Woah! I thought you and Kuwabara were...you know. Didn't you guys...?"
Botan "(yelling) What? Kuwabara and me?! Get real!"
Yusuke "That's not what he told me. Kuwabara said that you 2 were dating and he banged you many times, in your ass and your pussy. He also told me you blew him after every date."
Botan "What a SON OF A BITCHING LIAR! He lied about everything (well, except for the blow-jobs anyway)! I'm going to kill him the next time I see him! Oh well, let's keep doing what we doing before you brought that up, ok?"
Yusuke "Ok. Come on, let's have sex. It will only hurt for a few seconds, ok? If it makes you feel any better, I'm a virgin too."
Botan "You're a virgin too, no way! A stud like you? WOW! I guess that makes me feel a little better. Ok, but be gentle. Let's do it."
Yusuke "Ok, I've never done this before, but I've heard how it's supposed to be done. Let's see now...Ok! First, Lie down and spread your legs open, then I'll put my dick on top of your cunt and shove it in. Then I do it over & over until we both cum. All you have to do is sit back, relax, and enjoy the waves of pleasure you'll be getting.
Botan "Okay, but remember to go slowly, so I don't get too much pain, ok?
Yusuke "You got it! I'll go really slow, then faster, ok?"
Botan "Ok. just don't go too fast, ok?"
Yusuke "Believe me, by the time I pleasure you, you'll be begging me to go at the speed of light."
Yusuke shoves his rock hard dick in Botan's wet, warm, virgin pussy. Botan feels intense pain surge through her body as Yusuke breaks her hymen and enters her. He does it again and again, making Botan's pain fade away and replacing it with pleasure.
Botan "OH YUSUKE! OH, YEAH! OH! OH YUSUKE, YOU'RE GIVING ME SO MUCH PLEASURE! I'M GOING TO CUM SOON!!!!!!!!!!"
Yusuke "Go ahead, cum all over my dick! I want to feel your warm juices all over my hard cock!"
Botan cums all over Yusuke's pecker, coating it with her sweet, slick love juice. Yusuke takes his dick out of Botan's newly wet pussy, and shoves it down her throat. Botan sucks on it greedily, bringing Yusuke closer to an orgasm with every stroke. Yusuke finally shoots a huge load of hot, sticky cum down Botan's throat. He cums so much, that she can't swallow it all at one time, and some drips out of her mouth and onto her face. She swallows what's in her mouth, then she scoops up the cum on her face and sucks it off her fingers.
Botan "Oh Yusuke, you taste just so damn good!"
Yusuke "You know, you taste a lot like heaven yourself. Now get down on your hands and knees, so I can do you Doggy Style, ok?"
Botan "Oh boy! I'm willing to try anything that makes me feel as good as it did the first time. What's it like?"
Yusuke "You'll find out, now get down on your hands and knees, ok?"
Botan "Ok, Yusuke, anything for you."
Botan drops to her hands and knees & Yusuke gets behind her. He turns her around and shoves his dick in her mouth again.
Yusuke "Now, make sure you get it lubricated well enough bitch!"
Botan "Ok Yusuke, You got it! Mmmmmmmm. There, is that good enough? Will that do?"
Yusuke looks down at his saliva covered dick.
Yusuke "Oh yeah, that's totally lubricated. Good job, Botan."
Yusuke turns Botan Back around then he shoves his entire 10 inches in Botan's warm, tight ass. The feeling of his dick inside her back door makes her gasp and quiver. Yusuke starts to pull his dick out of Botan's heat, and she moans in pleasure as well as in pain. It feels very nice in her tight ass, but his dick is so big, it stretches her asshole out very wide. Yusuke withdraws his 10 inch dick until just the head is left inside. Yusuke pushes his cock back inside all the way and he pulls it out, then he starts slamming her ass. He starts a very steady rhythm. By now, Botan has gotten used to his huge 10 inch monster invading her ass.
Botan "Oh Yusuke, you turn me on so much! I love feeling your huge erection inside my pussy! I love it even more when it's in my ass!"Yusuke: 'Yeah, I knew you would! Now I'm going to start banging your ass twice as hard, so brace yourself! Okay, here we go!'
(Yusuke slams his 10 inches into Botan's rear. Botan gasps loudly and sharply. Yusuke starts ramming Botan's ass like there's no tomorrow! Botan gets used to the feeling again.)
Botan: 'Oh Yusuke, harder! Yeah! Just like that! Yeah! More! Uh-huh! Yes! Oh Yusuke, Yusuke, don't stop!'
Yusuke: 'Don't worry! I won't stop until I fill your tight little ass with my cum!'
(After about 20 minutes, Botan starts cumming out of her ass. She coats Yusuke's cherry popper with her anal cream. Seconds later, Yusuke blows his load in Botan's poop chute. She feels the hot, gooey cum flowing out of her ass and down the sides of her crack. After Yusuke stops cumming, he pulls his shit and anal cream covered dick out of Botan's butt with a 'Pop'.)
Botan: 'Oh Yusuke! You're so messy! You've got my shit and anal cream all over your cock! Oh well, don't worry, I'll get it off for you!'
(Botan takes Yusuke's messy cock into her mouth & starts licking and sucking on it, making it warm, wet, and clean again.)
Yusuke: '(Very disgusted) Aw man! Aw Botan! That's so damn raunchy! Oh man, I'm into kinky stuff, but you've got to draw the line somewhere! That is too sick, even for me!'
Botan: 'Oh, shut up! I'm just cleaning you up. You're such a whiny, little, immature bastard! Besides, if you don't like it, you can clean yourself up!'
(Botan finishes cleaning Yusuke. The 2 are so tired, they decide to take a break, then, all of a sudden, Kayko walks in! When she sees Yusuke & Botan on the floor, naked, sweaty, and breathing heavily, she has no problem putting 2 and 2 together and obviously figures out what has been going on.
Kayko: 'OH MY GOD! Yusuke? Botan? Oh man, I'm going to kill you both!'
Botan: '(Scared) Oh, hi Kayko. My, what a surprise to see you here. (laughs nervously)'
(Kayko turns to Botan with an angry look, walks over to her and slaps her across the face so hard, a red hand print is left across Botan's left cheek.)
Kayko: 'You slutty bitch! What have I told you about having sex with my boyfriend without my permission?!'
Botan: 'I'm sorry, my queen! I'll never do it again, I swear!'
Kayko: 'I believe you, and that's because I'm gonna make sure you never disobey me again. However, I'm going to have to punish you for this time, bitch!'
Yusuke: '(Bewildered) Whoa! Anybody want to tell me what the Hell's going on around here?!'
Kayko: 'So, Yusuke, I guess I wasn't good enough for you, huh?'
Yusuke: 'Damn right! You never let me have any fun! You always promised me we'd have sex soon, but every time we got close, you'd back out by coming up with some lame excuse like the classic "I've got a headache" excuse, or some shit.'
Kayko: 'Yeah, so? I didn't want to do anything we'd both regret, okay? Besides, I thought being with Botan might be fun because neither of us can get pregnant, and she agreed, so we've been "experimenting" for a couple of months.'
Yusuke: 'So let me get this straight: You got scared of becoming pregnant, so, you decided to become a lesbian instead?'
Kayko: 'No. I'm not a lesbian Yusuke, I've just decided that I like guys and girls, that way I always have my options open on who I want to be with.'
Botan: 'Excuse me, my queen, but what's in that bag you have?'
Kayko: 'The bag? Oh yeah, the bag. I brought over some "toys" for us to play with, but of course, I didn't know you 2 would be "playing" with each other when I got here.'
Botan: 'Oh goodie, I love toys! What kind of toys are they?' (Kayko empties the bag & all of the items falls onto the floor. There are: whips, love oils, a vile of some kind of liquid, a black, leather bondage outfit, & some dildos.) 'Oh boy, I think we'll have a lot of fun with these toys, my queen.'
Kayko: 'Good, because we're definitely going to have some wild fun tonight!'
Yusuke: 'You don't really think I'm going to go along with this, do you?'
Kayko: 'You don't really have a choice. If you refuse, I'll have Botan give you one of her "Death touches". As the Grim Reaper, she can kill you, even though you've been brought back to life. So, what do you say about that?'
Yusuke: 'Like I said, let's have some wild fun!'
(Kayko picks up the vile containing the liquid and takes the cap off.)
Kayko: '(sweetly) Botan, Botan sweetie? Come over here and open wide for me.'
(Botan crawls over to Kayko on her hands and knees, and opens her mouth. Kayko takes the vile and pours half of its contents down Botan's throat.)
Kayko: 'Make sure you drink every last drop, okay Honey?'
Botan: 'Yes my queen! I will!'
Yusuke: 'What is that stuff?'
Kayko: '(teasingly) That's for us to know. Now, my sweet, sexy bitch, go put on that slutty bondage outfit on, and oh, get a whip too.'
(Kayko takes off the top of her school uniform, then her skirt. She then stands there, in just her bra & panties waiting for Botan. Finally, her lover returns, wearing the bondage outfit and holding a riding crop firmly in her hands.)
Kayko: 'Ah, good bitch. Okay, now Yusuke, get over here & shove your dick into me from behind.'
(Kayko takes the riding crop from Botan & twirls it in between her fingers. Yusuke gets up and walks over to Kayko, pulls down her sexy, white, lace panties, exposing Kayko's wet, pink, virgin pussy. Yusuke's mouth waters as he deeply inhales the scent from her wet, warm cunt. The scent overpowers him, and, without warning, he dives into Kayko's cunt, eating her out ravenously. Kayko, not expecting this, pulls away and slaps him across the face, hard.)
Yusuke: 'OW! Damn that hurt! What the Hell did you do that for?!'
Kayko: 'I told you to shove your dick up my pussy, not your tongue! Now do it right this time, you stupid son of a bitch!'
Yusuke: 'Okay, okay. Man, you don't have to be such a bitch about it.'
(Yusuke shoves his large 10 inches into Kayko's virgin cunt from behind. Kayko moans in pain as Yusuke's massive dick rips through her hymen like tissue paper and her blood flows out. Soon, the pain she feels fades and turns into pleasure. Botan sees the blood on Kayko's pussy, crawls over to her, and starts licking every crimson drop up, cleaning Kayko's cunt of any virgin blood. After Kayko stops bleeding, Botan starts licking her tight, warm asshole while Yusuke continues to pound Kayko's cunt raw.)
Kayko: 'Oh Botan, you're making me cum out of my ass! Yes! Yes! More, more! Grab one of my 2-headed dildos & shove one of the heads up your cunt, then, as soon as Yusuke's done shredding my pussy apart with his monster, shove it as far up my cunt as it can go.'
(While Yusuke continues to wildly shaft Kayko from behind, Botan gets a 2-headed dildo, lubricates it with her love juices, and shoves it up her cunt. Botan moans slightly, and starts doing herself with the dildo, moving it in & out, harder & faster. Kayko watches with lust and excitement as Botan makes love to herself with the rubber cock. As Kayko watches, she flexes her pussy muscles, making them grip Yusuke's dick tighter. The tightness of Kayko's pussy begins to get too tight for Yusuke to stand and within a couple of minutes, he cums, coating the inner walls of Botan's love tunnel with his warm, thick, gooey sperm. After pleasuring herself for a while, Botan takes the toy out of her warm, moist hole, walks over to Kayko [who is now sitting on the floor, still horny], sits down, and shoves the soaked half up Kayko's hole. After the toy is fully embedded in Kayko, Botan takes the other end and works it all the way up her hole. As Botan moves back and forth with the dildo stuck in her tight cunt, the toy slides in & out of Kayko's hole. Soon, both girls hit their climaxes, then they bask in their afterglows next to each other, breathing heavily, with the toy still in place. All of a sudden, the door opens, and in walks Koenma. When he sees the scene before him, he's shocked beyond belief.
Koenma: 'Oh my god! Whoa! Botan, Yusuke? What the hell's going on here?!'
Yusuke: '(nervously) Uh...Um...nothing?'
Koenma: 'Don't give me that! I can see plain as day what you've all been up to. (Angrily) And Now, you know what I'll have to do!'
(Yusuke covers his head and closes his eyes tightly, preparing for the worst)
Koenma: '(crying) WAAAAAAAH!!!! You all had a big orgy and you didn't even have the consideration to invite me! WAAAAH!!! I have feelings too, you know!'
Yusuke: (covering his ears) 'Okay, okay! You can join in! Just stop crying!'
Koenma: (stops crying) 'Okay.'"Kayko's orgasm is so strong that her girl-cum sprays out of her cunt and soaks Koenma's cock and lower stomach as her pussy muscles contract super tightly, then relax. Kayko pants heavily as she bathes in the afterglow of her first ever squirting orgasm (and during all this, Yusuke is sitting in a chair, watching the events unfold before him).
Yusuke: "Well, now that I've had a chance to catch my breath a little, who wants some more of my man-meat?"
Botan (childlike): "Ooh, ooh, over here! Me, pick me! (lustfully) Come on over here, big boy! Give it to me fast and rough, like a cheap, 25-cent hooker!"
Yusuke (excited at Botan's vulgar, dirty talk): "Oh-Ho! Yes, ma'am! I'm gonna nail you so hard, you won't be able to see straight! All you're gonna be able to see is stars! BAM!"
(Yusuke goes over to Botan and mounts her, stuffing his hard cock deep into her hot, wet, velvety pussy. He pushes in to the hilt, then starts shafting Botan for all he's worth.)
Botan: "Oh Yusuke, oh yeah! Yes! Oh, yeah, slam my slutty cunt! Give it to me! Don't show me any mercy! Treat me like I'm no more than a worthless street whore! Pound my cunt hard!"
Yusuke: "You got it, you hot, slutty bitch! Uh...Uh...Uh...OOHHH SHIT! I'M CUMMMMIINNNGGG!!!!!"
Botan: "AAAAAH!!! ME TOO! AAAAAAAAHHH!!!!"
(Botan and Yusuke explode at the same time, their orgasms possessing them. Yusuke slams Botan's cunt relentlessly and fires his cum deep into Botan's pussy, and Botan screams like a banshee as her pussy juices coat Yusuke's now softening cock. Yusuke dismounts Botan, and they both lay on the floor and catch their breath for 10 minutes, both of them panting like dogs, totally exhausted from the hardcore sex they had just engaged in. After they rest, they look over at Koenma and Kayko, the two fast asleep, Koenma still on top of Kayko, his dick still buried deep in her cunt, and his mouth over her tit, like a real baby, Kayko's nipple replacing his pacifier. Botan rubs her lower belly, feeling Yusuke's warm sperm inside her.)
Yusuke: "That looks like a good idea. What do you say to getting some sleep ourselves?"
Botan: "Bingo! You read my mind. Before we do, let me ask you something."
Yusuke: "Sure, go ahead."
Botan (smiling warmly): "Did you enjoy your ride on the 'Botan Express'?" (giggles)
Yusuke: "Ah, Botan, you're such a hot, little, sexy, bitch." (grabs her right breast and squeezes it) "Honk, honk."
(Yusuke and Botan both laugh, then lie down and go to sleep. Everyone wakes up late the next day again [but hey, you would too if you were up from 9:00 P.M. to 8:00 A.M. the next morning having sex]. They all get dressed, and Yusuke walks over to Koenma.)
Yusuke: "Boy, some night that was, huh? I don't think I want to have sex for quite a while, my balls are completely drained. So, what's my next mission? I can handle pretty much anything now. It will be good to get my mind off of sex for a change. Whew."
Koenma: "Well, then it sucks to be you! Your next mission is to stop a group of all-powerful female demons from destroying the world, again (and these demons are super beautiful, girls, and some are even cat-girls or fox-girls, like Koto). But, there's a twist: these demons are impervious to all forms of weapons. The only way to destroy them is to coat the insides of their cunts with super-powerful cum, the kind only a Spirit Detective can produce. I'm sure you also know that the only way to get your sperm into their cunts is by screwing them, and they're not just satisfied by cum. To destroy them all, you must have continuous sex with each one for 4 hours, and there are a total of 12 demons. So, have fun."
Yusuke (shocked): "WHAT???!!! You've got to be freakin' kidding me!!! After last night, I'm lucky I can stand and that my dick hasn't fallen off from all that hardcore sex!!! You couldn't have told me about this back when we first saw us all screwing?!"
Koenma: "Well, if I would've done that, you probably would've wanted to stop the orgy and go to sleep, then I would've gotten cheated out of some of the hottest sex I've ever had, and that would've sucked."
Yusuke: "You selfish, little son of a bitch!!!"
Koenma (with a finger raised in the air, and that smug, can't-see-his-eyes look): "Sorry, Yusuke, but when you're a Spirit Detective, you've got to learn to expect the unexpected. Heh, heh, heh, heh."
Yusuke (looking up at the sky with clenched fists, screaming): "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"
THE END. | null | null | Authors/Graz/Expect The Unexpected.txt |
98,478 | null | null | Yesterday, Jackie hit me up demanding that I return her bracelets. I wasn't sure what to expect. Was this a final goodbye? Were we going to argue once I got there? Were we just going to have sex and get back together? She texted me a few minutes later asking me to also bring a blunt. At 12, after I was done playing Marco Polo in the Le Bain pool, I headed over to her place. When I got there, she looked at me, seemingly annoyed, and instructed me to roll. I sat down on her bed, gutted the blunt, and began rolling. She said, "How many people have you fucked since we broke up?" "None..." "Haha, I beat you." "How many have you fucked?" "2," she said, smirking. "Oh, um, nice." I lit the blunt. "I think we should film a preview to our sex tape. I need you to look cute and degraded. Let me put your hair in pigtails." She starts messing with my hair while I smoke. "O-okay." When she's satisfied with my hair, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a pink dildo. It has shit stains on it, which she's casually wiping off with her hand. "Ew," I say. "It's been in another guy's butt." "Whose?" "A client." "Oh..." I mumble, "that's pretty gross." "I'll wash it for you." She leaves the room and goes and rinses it in the bathroom sink for a minute. There are still some visible shit stains on it; I am unsatisfied with how she's cleaned it and put my head down, dreading what's about to happen, regretting going over to her house. With her phone in one hand, filming me, she grabs me by my hair and tries to make me suck on the dildo. I refuse and fight her. She eventually abandons the idea of filming it and puts her phone down, getting on top of me to force it into my mouth. She pins me down with her knees on my arms while I try to resist. I am so fucking disgusted by the fact that the dildo has been in one of her clients' assholes and is still covered in his shit. He probably has AIDS. I'm freaking out, pushing her away, but I'm in pain; she's been pulling my hair the entire time and my scalp is sore. I start to tire and want to give in, but am still too grossed out to comply and suck on the dildo. Eventually, she is able to pin both my arms down with her knees and shoves the dildo into my mouth. I bite down to prevent it from going any further. She forces it in, and I start coughing and gagging. I feel like I'm about to vomit. Finally, she stops, gets off of me, and starts taking off her clothes. 'Maybe she's given up on this idea; maybe we're just going to have sex now. I hope so'... I was wrong. To my dismay, she pulls out a strap-on harness and puts it on. I don't want that disgusting thing in my ass, but before I know it, she's pushing me over. I'm fighting against her, but then she puts a finger inside of me and it feels good, and I relax a little and let her do it. But, of course, it's only a matter of time before the strap-on is inside of me. I relax a little bit and let it happen until I suddenly feel an intense urge to get it out of me immediately. I turn around and fight her, punch her arms to let go of me. We kind of wrestle for a while until I relax a little more and think to myself that what's going on is kind of hot. As soon as I let my guard down, she gets on top of me and shoves it all the way into me, and it hit somewhere, and I started crying. I wasn't in bad physical pain, but as soon as the dildo hit that spot, I just started weeping and couldn't stop. She looked at me empathetically and stopped forcing it in me. I lay there crying for a long time. I never let myself cry. I hadn't cried that hard in a long time. It felt almost therapeutic. I kept thinking to myself 'why am I crying so much', but I didn't understand and I didn't stop. Looking back, I'm really confused by the experience, but I guess I'm happy it happened. Afterwards, we listened to Ginuwine and cuddled. I guess this means we're back together? | null | null | Authors/Drrty_Pharms/Jackie.txt |
98,804 | null | Worldwide Boy Gladiators - Chapters 30 - 36 | Young Trevor had just escorted Bruce to the front door when Lara Tomlinsin appeared on the veranda, dressed in light pastel colors befitting the tropical climate. As always, Trevor felt himself blushing as he stood in front of her. He was wearing only a skimpy white thong.
"Good morning, Trevor," Lara said, well aware of the effect she had on this boy. "Is the boss home?"
"Master is finishing his tea, miss," the fourteen-year-old said shyly. "I'll tell him you're here, okay. You can wait inside, if you like."
"Whatever won't get you into trouble, dear boy," the young woman said, stepping into the marble-tiled foyer.
Trevor flashed a wide grin, pleased that the lady was so kind to him. He hurried off on his slender legs, providing Lara with an excellent view of his adorable bare butt. The young teen was back a few minutes later. "If you'll follow me, miss," he said with a regal bow.
Lara found herself once more in William Durand's study, overlooking the beach and the clear blue Caribbean.
"How are you enjoying your stay, my dear?" the chief of the XB1 asked, still sipping at his morning tea. Trevor stood nearby with the teapot at the ready.
"Everything is working out fabulously, Bill."
After several minutes of polite small talk, Lara got down to business. "I'm here because I need a green light from you for the next phase in the development of WBG."
"By all means. What do you have in mind?"
"Well, boss, it occurs to me, and hopefully to you too, that our two oldest boys are going to age out of their indentures in approximately eighteen months. We should begin recruiting replacements now, so we don't suddenly find ourselves short a boy, or two. I've already taken the liberty of having our recruitment department do some preliminary scouting, as well as post an online application for boys and their parents on the WBG website. I suggest to you that once we find two suitable boys, we sign them to pre-indenture contracts immediately."
"Pre-indenture?" Durand asked. "You're making that up, right?"
Lara smiled and took a fresh cup of tea from Trevor. "I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it, sir. It's not legal yet in the United States, but most of the other civilized nations have incorporated some provision for it into their juvenile male slave laws. The ICSC in Geneva fully supports the concept."
"Explain it to me."
"Well, sir, it is very simple. The boy and his family make a binding, non-negotiable commitment to our standard indenture contract, to be fully enacted once an open slot on the island becomes available. Pre-indentures can be signed and legally ratified up to five years before the actual indenture takes place."
"So we would own the rights to the new boys without actually having to pay out any money for them up front."
"Precisely. And the pre-indenture contract also gives us specific and limited authority over the boys from the moment they sign. That way we can ensure that they remain in top shape and begin some very basic training while they still live at home with their parents. It costs us nothing, and we'll have well-trained boys that can be put to use right away, once they reach the island."
"This is an excellent idea. Why isn't this legal in the States?"
"Legislation is pending right now, sir," Lara informed him. "I'm sure a man of your influence could help assure its successful passage."
"I'll make some calls this afternoon. In the meantime, go ahead and tell the recruitment teams to find me two boys and sign them to pre-indentures as soon as possible. Oh, and Lara... it occurs to me that our current line-up is rather monochromatic, if you get my drift. Have them focus their attention on some other parts of the world. I don't want boys who are too dark, mind you, but a little color would look good out there."
Lara Tomlinsin made a quick note of it, then lingered for one of Trevor's legendary mint juleps.
"Trained him myself," Durand said proudly as the scantily-clad slave boy presented them with their drinks. "He's got quite a knack for it."
'I'm sure you've trained him to do all sorts of things, you sly old bastard,' Lara thought to herself. She had to admit though, the julep was exceptional.
Over in the training facility, Nathaniel Hilthorpe surveyed the newly finished school room. He was impressed at the speed with which the corporation's facilities management staff had fulfilled all his requests and requirements. The once vacant room now had two large chalkboards, three computer stations, Hilthorpe's large wooden desk, and ten small metal desks for the boy gladiators. The boys' desks were bolted to the floor, as were their chairs, made of aluminum and each with built-in ankle restraints to ensure that the boys remained in their assigned seats. The chairs also sported thick aluminum pegs that would be impaled in the boys' butts once they sat down. The pegs increased in size for each boy, the smallest one meant for little Miles, the larger ones, with rather nasty spikes on them, specially selected for David, Philippe, Illya, and Chris. On the wall behind Hilthorpe's desk were the implements of discipline that had given him proven results over the years: crops, strops, and a heavy brown wooden paddle. The boys would all come to know them very well once their schooling resumed.
Nathaniel checked the gladiators' current schedule. His first interviews with the boys would be starting shortly. He would be seeing them one at a time, giving them a variety of pre-tests to determine their current level of achievement, and hopefully introducing more than a few of them to his instruments of discipline. Several of the boys were currently unavailable, but with ten to choose from, he could afford to be patient and take whatever boy was not currently busy in some other area. He had no illusions. Education was going to be a relatively low priority on Gladiator Island, but the money they'd offered him, and the chance to work directly with the boy gladiators, more than made up for any perceived slights to his profession. He picked up his portable radio and contacted the control room.
"I believe boy Zero-One is free at the moment. Please send him to the classroom at his trainer's earliest convenience."
Five minutes later, a hot and sweaty Miles Harris was delivered by his trainer, fresh from an intense workout in the nearby weight room.
"I won't keep him long, Alex," Hilthorpe said pleasantly. He'd made it a point to learn the names of all the trainers as quickly as possible. The boys, of course, were merely numbers, and he had no particular interest in what their names had been before they became indentured slaves.
The elder trainer smiled and pushed the little boy forward, giving him a pre-emptive smack to the back of the head. "You behave yourself, little man," he said, then turned his attention back to Nathaniel. "Here are his keys, if you wish to remove his chains or his chastity belt."
The young teacher took the ring of silver keys, each marked with Miles' number, and set them on his desk.
"He's scheduled for a milking session at 1300 hours... not that he has anything to milk."
"I'm sure we'll be finished our business long before that, won't we, boy?"
"Um, I guess, sir," Miles said, shrugging innocently, not sure exactly what business he had with this stranger.
Alex Wright departed, leaving his young charge in the care of the teacher. "Step in front of my desk, boy," Hilthorpe said. Miles quickly obeyed and shuffled over, his chains rattling on the concrete floor. Hilthorpe sat down and called up the boy's file on the computer.
"Were you a good student before you became a slave?" he asked, staring at the collared and chastity-belted ten-year-old with a critical eye.
"Um, okay, I guess, sir," Miles replied.
"I assume you can read and write."
"Yes, sir," Miles said, curling his toes nervously.
"You are ten years old, is that right?"
"Yes, sir," the little boy said, standing up as tall as he could.
Hilthorpe paused for a moment and glanced over the statistics in the boy's file. Essentially every piece of information ever recorded on young Miles Harris was available at his fingertips. He raised his eyes to the boy once more. "Recite your nine-times table for me, please."
Miles stared at him, not quite sure what he meant. After almost four weeks of training and milking and being naked and competing and all that, thinking about school was a rather abrupt change for the boy.
"I don't understand, sir..."
"Your multiplication tables, silly boy. You do know how to multiply numbers, don't you?"
"Oh," Miles replied, breathing a huge sigh of relief. "Okay. One times nine is nine. Two times nine is...""Stop," the teacher interrupted him. "When you are reciting in this classroom, you are to put your hands behind your back and stand at attention. Face forward. Eyes forward. Chin up. Speak clearly and don't mumble."
"Yes, sir, sorry, sir."
"Now start again."
Miles quickly adopted the required posture and began again, his high pre-pubescent voice echoing in the silent classroom. "One times nine is nine. Two times nine is eighteen. Three times nine is twenty-seven . . ." He did fine until nine times eight, which he said was ninety-eight. Hilthorpe stopped him there.
"Are you sure that's the right answer, Zero-One?"
A sudden look of fear filled the ten-year-old's eyes. "Yes, sir. I'm sure, sir."
Hilthorpe stood up and walked around his desk. He towered over the barely four-foot-tall boy. "You are incorrect. Go over to the punishment bench."
Miles' dark eyes welled with tears. He followed the teacher's gesture and marched over to a wooden bench that looked more like a saw-horse than anything else. The boy stood nervously in front of it.
"Bend over."
Miles bent at the waist and grabbed hold of the legs of the bench. In this position, his cute little behind was perfectly positioned for a good striping. Hilthorpe selected the smallest and thinnest cane from the wall.
"Have you ever been given the cane before, young man?"
"Nnn... nnooo, sir."
"I'm going to go easy on you today. Three strokes. You will count them for me."
Hilthorpe wasted no further time and quickly and efficiently administered the three cuts with the little cane. Miles howled and shrieked and bucked against the wooden bench, but he did manage to count each one aloud for his teacher. A very teary-eyed ten-year-old was told to stand up a few moments later.
"I have a test for you, to see how much you already know and how much you need to learn." He took the keys from the desk and unlocked the ass-strap on the little boy's chastity belt so that he could remove the butt-plug. Miles grunted and moaned as the metal invader slid out of him.
"Which hand do you write with?"
"My left, sir."
Hilthorpe took the boy's right hand and put the butt-plug in it. "Hold that. Go sit at your desk."
Miles looked at the double row of desks and found number one. It took him exactly three seconds to see the large wooden peg attached to his chair. He looked up at his new teacher with a quivering lip.
"I... I don't wanna sit on that, sir."
"Wanna? You do not use lazy English in my classroom, boy. You will speak properly. Now sit down and get started on your test."
Miles sniffled and squatted down over the chair, using the strength in his legs to keep himself off the peg. He could feel it pressing against his little hole as he picked up the pencil with his left hand and looked down at the single-page test. He still clutched his butt-plug with his right.
"You have fifteen minutes to finish."
By the time the fifteen minutes had elapsed, Miles had slid down all the way onto the wooden peg and was writhing and squirming in his place. His little cocklet had made several futile attempts to erect itself inside the tight confines of the chastity belt. Somehow, despite all the distractions, the plucky ten-year-old had managed to finish his test. That's not to say he did particularly well. Hilthorpe shook his head as he marked the many wrong answers in red and handed the paper back to the nervous, trembling boy.
"You passed. Just barely. We have a lot of work to do. Just because you're going to be rich when you leave here doesn't give you the right to be stupid."
Miles did not think of himself as being stupid at all. He didn't really like school, but he went and did his best. Some of those questions were really hard, things he didn't think even most of the older boys would have known.
"Do you have something to say to me, boy?" Hilthorpe asked, reading the look on the boy's face.
Miles quickly lowered his eyes to his desk. "No, sir. I did my best, sir..."
Hilthorpe tussled the boy's short-cropped hair. "I know that. It is my job to make you do better. You have a trainer for your body, right?"
"Right, sir."
"Well, think of me as a trainer for your mind."
Miles cracked a shy smile. That made sense to him. Sort of.
"Stand up."
Slowly, wincing and groaning and whining, the little ten-year-old lifted himself off the not-so-little peg and resumed his 'at attention' position beside his desk. His butt-plug was still clenched tightly in his right hand. Hilthorpe pointed to it.
"Do you know how to put that back in?"
"I... I guess so... sir..."
"Then do it."
It took the little boy a few seconds to decide how this task was best accomplished. Finally, he got down on all fours, spread his legs wide apart and worked the plug back into his butt, all the while with a determined grimace on his cute round face. He was beet-red with embarrassment, having to shove that thing up his own behind while his teacher watched him.
"Good boy," Hilthorpe said when Miles again got to his feet. The boy absent-mindedly ran his hand over the metal plate that encased his genitals. Hilthorpe chose to ignore the lad's indiscretion. He reached into his desk, produced a piece of chocolate candy and tossed it to the boy. Miles took it eagerly, tore the wrapper off and popped the whole thing into his mouth.
"Don't tell anyone, boy," the teacher warned him with a gentle smile. "That's our secret."
With his mouth full of sweet wonderful chocolate, Miles simply grinned and nodded. Alex returned for him a few minutes later, attached a chain to the boy's collar and led him off to the medical suite for his latest appointment with the dreaded milking machine.
Lance's breakfast had been delivered by Mule 1674 in much the same manner as the boy had delivered dinner the night before. The not-quite thirteen-year-old stood obediently by the door, his arms limp at his sides, his face cast down toward the floor. As always when he was on duty, he was wearing the short gray slave smock that identified him as little more than a subhuman laborer. Chris, who was happy to be eating a piece of toast with orange marmalade and a single pancake of his very own (thanks to Lance's kindness) kept looking over at the boy. He knew that some boys were real slaves, slaves for life that is, and he wondered what this one had done to deserve such a terrible life. Was he a criminal? Chris was well aware that lots of boys who committed even small crimes were sentenced to slavery. In school and at home, he'd been given that sort of warning since he was six. Maybe his parents were poor. That's what happened to Timmy Wildesin last year.
The Wildesins lived a few houses down and Timmy and Chris were almost exactly the same age. Timmy had a way of getting himself into trouble and dragging Chris along with him, but they remained friends right up until the day the state's slave control unit arrived in the white van and took Timmy away. The hardest thing was, Timmy knew he'd been sold weeks before they actually took him. In fact, the whole neighborhood knew, including Chris and Josh. Chris remembered watching from the front yard when the day finally came. Timmy was marched out of his house stark naked, his twelve-year-old cock, considerably smaller than Christopher's, swinging back and forth for everyone to see. They already had an iron collar around Timmy's neck, and his wrists and ankles were chained.
Chris felt sad and angry, but he also became aware that his penis was really, really hard in his shorts. After the van had pulled away, taking Timmy off to his new life as a slave, Chris ran upstairs, shucked down his soccer shorts and jerked himself off until he had a hard, satisfying cum. He never found out what happened to Timmy. There were rumors in school that he'd ended up being a sex slave. At twelve, Chris had a rather nebulous idea what that meant. Now, of course, the young gladiator was indeed quite familiar with the concept.
"You shouldn't keep looking at him," Lance said, quietly sipping his coffee.
"Why not, sir?" Chris asked, turning his eyes away from the other boy.
"Mules aren't human anymore, so you should really just ignore them."
The naked boy sat up a little straighter from his place on the floor. "Well, I'm not a human being right now either, am I? But people look at me... hell they don't ever stop looking at me... you look at me... Bruce looks at me... Jason looks at me... I know what's going on... I mean, about the sex and stuff..."
Lance smiled and handed him a small glass of juice. "Things are a little different for you. You're indentured for a start. That means you'll be free... some day. So you're sort of in a different class from that one," he pointed to Mule 1674.
"I just don't think it's fair, that's all. What did he do wrong to end up like that?"
"I don't know, Chris," Lance said, once again using the boy's real name. "It isn't any of my business, or yours. There's nothing anyone can do about it now anyway. He is what he is, and you are who you are and that's that. Now finish eating."
Chris returned his attention to his plate. "That pod thing he's wearing over his dick and balls... it looks way too small... I'd never fit inside that..."
"Be glad you don't have to. And believe me, you don't want to know what they've done to him down there."
Chris was carrying Lance's breakfast plate back to the waiting mule, when Bruce returned from a very productive meeting with William Durand. Mule 1674 quickly departed, carrying the empty plate in his hands. The remains of breakfast smelled so good to him, but he did not dare stop to help himself to even so much as a meager crumb.
"So," Bruce said, gazing over at the two younger males, both of whom were technically slaves, "did he behave himself, Lance?""He's the perfect little slave," the young man replied, giving Chris a quick wink. They had both agreed that the boy's forbidden orgasm would remain a secret just between them. Bruce stared at them for a moment, quite certain they were keeping something from him.
"The cart's waiting outside. Get that boy back in his leather, don't bother with the chains. And plug his little holes. Let's go."
Lance quickly followed Bruce's orders. Moments later, Chris found himself once again wearing the leather harness and the matching collar and cuffs. His butt and his piss-slit once again had plugs in them. "You look so hot in leather," the young man whispered in the boy's ear.
"Thanks," Chris whispered back. He did like the way he felt. And he was beginning to understand the effect he seemed to have on older guys and men. He blew a little private kiss at Lance, who smiled and promptly smacked him on the ass.
"Don't be a tease, boy," Lance advised him. He then led Chris outside on the leash. The thirteen-year-old's heart started to race when he saw what was waiting for him. It was a larger version of the chariot, with all the same reins, chains and restraints he had grown so familiar with so quickly. This one, however, had four wheels, and was considerably more luxurious, with dark richly stained wood trim and padded seats for the passengers. Chris stared at it with worried eyes. It looked really heavy. And he would have two grown men riding on it behind him, rather than one light-weight twelve-year-old boy. With a downcast expression on his sweet face, he positioned himself in front of the cart. Bruce and Lance worked leisurely to get the chains attached to the boy's harness. Chris noticed the cart didn't have the guide-poles that the chariots had. He would not have anything to hold on to as he pulled the four-wheeler forward. In fact, he quickly discovered he wouldn't have the use of his arms at all. Bruce brought a leather lace-up bondage sleeve from the cart and quickly bound the thirteen-year-old boy's arms behind his back. An additional chain was connected to the ring at the end of the bondage sleeve to the front of the cart. Chris was immediately afraid that he wouldn't be able to keep his balance, but he didn't have time to protest as the boy-shaped bridle and bit were strapped tightly around his head. The last of the chains were attached, and then the reins.
"You're going to take us around the island today, boy," Bruce said, as he and Lance climbed up onto the comfortable passenger seats. Lance took the reins. Bruce held a large, long whip in his hand. He swung it sharply, and hard, against Christopher's bare shoulders, instantly leaving a painful red welt. "Start trotting."
Trotting was a little more than the one-hundred-and-five pound boy could manage with all that weight behind him. The cart's four wheels did make it a lot more stable, but it still was hard work just getting the thing moving. With his arms bound-up behind him, the boy had to bend over to get leverage. His handsome young thighs were already straining to bear the load. Bruce continued to whip him until he was up to a good walking pace. Lance was considerably more gentle with the reins than his partner was with the flogger. Soon Chris was pulling the cart along the dirt roads of the island. He took them past the production facilities, the main arena, and the boys' barracks, where he saw Illya, David and little Ian doing push-ups under the watchful eyes of their trainers.
"Hey, there's Chris!" Ian said, spotting the pony-boy as he approached with his two passengers. "Hi, Chris. Lookin' good, mate!"
"No talking, Zero-Three," Anthony corrected him with a jolt from his electric prod. "All three of you can give us fifty more push-ups."
Chris struggled on, leaving the barracks behind, hearing Illya and David moan and curse at Ian for getting them into trouble. For over an hour he pulled the cart across the island, receiving several more lashes from the whip whenever he slowed down or missed a step. Finally, they ended up on the rocky, heavily forested west shore of the island. Here there was no beach, only steep shear drops down into the sea below. The view, however, was spectacular. Lance pulled back on the reins, and a sweaty and exhausted Chris trudged to a halt. They left him chained to the cart while they set up blankets and chairs overlooking the Caribbean. Chris was released and freed of the bondage sleeve so he could carry the heavy wooden box that contained all the picnic food and supplies. They'd packed a portable grill too, which he had to go back for. Last were the two wine bottles, which he was admonished not to drop under any circumstances.
Lance set up the grill and started the cooking. Bruce lounged in one of the chairs while Chris, on his knees, obediently shuffled himself between the man's legs and sucked his penis, with the tropical sun burning down upon his bare back. After two weeks of running around naked on the island, Chris' smooth hairless skin had already started to turn a nice golden brown. Bruce gazed down at the boy's back, then studied the tattoo that had been put on Chris' flank.
"Clever, don't you think, Lance," he asked, pointing at the dark permanent inking that Anthony had given the boy. "They've got these boys numbered like cattle. And did you see the advertisements they've put on them?"
Lance nodded. During their tour around the island this morning, he'd noticed that most of the boys were sporting some form of corporate advertising on their backs. He found young Ian's to be particularly amusing, since the eleven-year-old Australian was painted with the logo of one of the leading manufacturers of chastity devices for slave boys, the same one he in fact was wearing. Lance had to admit it was a brilliant idea, using the boys' bodies as walking billboards like that. He wondered what product would eventually be splashed upon Christopher's back. "I'm just glad those things aren't permanent."
"No, the only permanent marking is the tattoo on his butt. 'Boy 07'. He'll have that for the rest of his life, unless he gets it removed after he's freed. What do you say, Zero-Seven, are you going to keep it?"
Chris pulled off of Bruce's rigid leaking cock just long enough to shrug his shoulders. He'd never really thought about it. Actually, he'd sort of forgotten that his gladiator number was tattooed on his flank. He could only see it if he craned his neck back, but it was plainly visible to everyone watching in the stands and on television. "Don't know, sir . . . Guess I have a few years to decide . . ."
"Good answer. Now wrap those sweet lips around my cock again . . ."
Chris immediately slurped the man's cock into his mouth again. Bruce moaned in delight. Chris had proven to be a quick learner. He let out a soft boyish moan. Bruce was using his foot to toy with the chastity device and the perpetually frustrated boy-cock locked inside it. Chris really didn't understand why being on his knees with a man's big hard dick in his mouth made him so horny, he just knew that it did. He took more of Bruce's manhood into his throat, all the while feeling his own penis straining within its metal cage. He whined as the spikes dug into his tender flesh. His left hand instinctively went to his groin. Bruce firmly kicked it away with his foot.
"None of that. The only cock that matters is the one in your mouth."
"Mmmmph," Chris nodded with moist eyes and a mouthful of dick.
Lance looked over from the grill, admiring the young teenager's lean and perfectly proportioned body, and remembering a time, not too many years ago, when he was the naked boy between Bruce's legs. Was that actually a little pang of jealously he felt? Maybe just a little.
Meanwhile, in the medical suite, Josh had again opened his eyes after a long nap. As he looked around the room, he saw Miles was on one of the exam tables on his hands and knees, hooked to the milking machine. The youngest gladiator was squirming and squealing and having one dry orgasm after another forced from his little body. Doctor Trench herself was supervising the little boy's latest session. Josh laid his head back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. It was actually rather cool here, and he shivered as he lay flat on the mattress without a sheet or blanket. He was still restrained, with padded medical cuffs around his wrists and ankles. He was also still in the diaper. He could feel the soft material around his penis and testicles, he could feel it covering his butt, which, at the moment, did not have a plug in it. He didn't remember them taking it out. They must have done it when they took him out of the black room. He was glad it was gone. He didn't really like that funny feeling it gave him deep inside.
As he lay there day-dreaming, he came to the realization that he really needed to pee, but he didn't want to do it. Not in the diaper.
'They can make me wear this stupid thing,' he thought to himself, 'but they can't make me pee in it.'
His eleven-year-old resolve quickly began to fade when his eleven-year-old bladder began to insist that something be done to relieve the ever-growing pressure. Josh struggled against the restraints for a few seconds, then he lay still again.
'Ok. Ok, maybe I'll do it just this once . . .'
Much to the boy's own surprise, peeing in the diaper proved exceedingly difficult. His body didn't want to cooperate, even as the need to go became more and more urgent.
'Come on, come on . . .' he closed his eyes and finally managed to start peeing.
Josh was screaming in agony less than a second later. After thirty-six hours with a catheter in his dick, his urethra was very sensitive and very sore, and the first few squirts of piss burned him like fire. "Ow! Owww! Oh, man, that kills!""Oh, geez... aah!"
Now that he'd started peeing, he couldn't stop. He continued to shout and cry as he filled the diaper with his warm urine. Anna came over to him and took hold of his hand.
"It's going to hurt like that for a day at least," she said with the closest thing to sympathy Josh had heard in quite a while. "Just keep going. Tell me when you're finished."
With tears in his eyes, Josh nodded and tried to pee a little more slowly, holding back his stream as best he could so it wouldn't hurt so bad. That strategy didn't really do much more than prolong his agony. Finally, it came down to a weak trickle, and the eleven-year-old breathed a huge sigh of relief. The tip of his penis still burned.
"I'm done, miss," he said softly. The feeling of the full, wet, warm diaper... filled with his own urine... was not as unpleasant as he'd first feared it would be. In fact, the boy found it rather nice. His penis responded accordingly with a nice hard erection.
"Everything come out alright?" Anna asked, gently laying her hand on the boy's taut stomach.
"Yes, miss."
"Good boy. I have to help the doctor with Zero-One. I'll be back later to change you. Get some rest."
Josh couldn't believe she was just going to leave him strapped to the bed with a wet diaper around his middle, but that is exactly what she did. Josh lifted his head and watched her return to Miles on the milking machine. He looked down the length of his body, past his tight lean torso, and once again glared at those stupid cartoon bunnies on the diaper.
'What are you laughing at?' he asked them angrily. Then with a colossal yawn, he fell back to sleep, feeling all wet and warm and snug, with an obvious erection between his legs.
As Josh slept, and Miles got milked, and Chris demonstrated his ever-improving cocksucking skills for Bruce, young Daniel's twenty-four-hour period with Ophelia Winstrom came to an end. Danny remained on all fours as the wealthy heiress led him back to the barracks. He'd spent most of that time muzzled, with his hands locked away in leather mitts. His rear end was quite red from all the spankings and swats he'd received from the lady for inadvertently acting like a human boy when he was, of course, supposed to be an obedient little puppy. Spike had often tried to help him, but since the eight-year-old never made any noises but 'yips' and barks, it was hard for Danny to figure out what was expected of him. He did like it very much when the lady ordered Spike to crawl between his legs and suck on his penis for a while. That was very nice indeed. Danny only managed to get half-hard, and he didn't have an orgasm, but he did like the way it felt, having another boy suck on his little undersized penis.
He could not return the favor. Spike's tiny penis remained pinned between his legs by the chastity piercing. Danny did lick the younger boy's balls, which made Spike very happy. It was, in fact, the most pleasure the eight-year-old had ever felt down there. Normally those soft little parts were only a source of pain at the hands of his mistress. His little penis did harden, but, having no place to go, it quickly softened again. Needless to say, he was a very disappointed little puppy-boy when Danny was ordered to stop. Now Spike trotted along beside his mistress, his little puppy-tail butt-plug wagging back and forth as he crawled on all fours.
Lady Ophelia presented Daniel at the gate. The matron herself was there to check the boy back in. The transaction and final transfer of money was concluded by a simple finger-ID scan.
"Here is his chastity belt," the wealthy woman said, handing over the leather and metal contraption that normally encased the boy's genitals. Being free of it for the last twenty-four hours, Daniel had almost forgotten about it. "He does not seem to need one," she added. "I don't think his little penis ever got hard."
The matron took Daniel's leash and all of the keys to the various padlocks that secured the boy's puppy-gear in place.
"A remarkably charming boy," Ophelia continued. "I shall need to make inquiries about purchasing him."
"I don't think he'd be for sale, ma'am," the matron replied respectfully.
"Everything is for sale, my dear," the older woman answered softly. "One simply must name the right price. Farewell, Daniel," she then said, reaching down and patting the boy's naked and freshly reddened behind. "I'm sure we will meet again. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yip! Yip!" Daniel barked, playing his role of obedient boy-pet right up to the end. Of course, young Danny didn't like that idea at all, but he was smart enough to pretend he did.
"Come along, Spike," she tugged gently on the eight-year-old's leash. "We need to get packed for our flight home, then put you in your travel crate." With that, the woman strode proudly away with her little slave boy crawling along beside her. Spike looked back at Danny and blinked his eyes in goodbye. Maybe he'd get to play with the older boy again some time, and maybe mistress would free his penis and let the older boy suck on it. Maybe.
The matron watched Ophelia Winstrom and her boy depart, then she gave Daniel a little kick. "Stand up, silly thing. She's gone now."
Daniel scrambled to his feet. The matron didn't wait to get him inside the barracks before locking him back into his chastity belt. Daniel sighed as it was put back on. Strangely enough, it didn't feel quite as tight as he remembered. His penis actually had a little bit of room to bounce around inside it. He stared down at the silvery metal plate in mild confusion. The matron smirked knowingly, but said nothing.
"Go to your cell," the matron told him as she buzzed him back into the deserted barracks and walked him inside. "You can rest until your trainer comes to get you." She then spoke into her hand-held radio. "Operations... boy Zero-Five returning..."
Danny stood alone in the commons room for a moment. All the other boys were out. It was weird being in here all by himself. Everything was so quiet. He noticed the television was still there, but the screen was blank. Josh's punishment was over. Close in age, sharing the same sport, and being of similar temperament, he didn't particularly like Josh, but he still felt sorry for him. He hoped the other boy was okay. Not wanting to risk the matron's anger, he scurried off to his cell and sat down on his bunk. The comic book he'd taken from the activities cart a few days ago was still there, and so he crossed his smooth bare legs, rested his back against the cool cinder-block wall, and escaped into the world of superheroes and nasty villains.
Back in the medical suite, Anna shook Josh awake.
"Time to change your diaper," she said with a smile. "I'm going to release your ankles. You're not going to kick me, are you?"
"No, ma'am," Josh answered.
Anna unbuckled the medical restraints at the eleven-year-old's feet. Josh bent his legs and wiggled his toes. It felt good to be able to move around again.
"Okay, sweetie, lie still and spread your legs for me."
Josh obeyed. Anna pulled the tabs on the wet diaper and opened it. Josh's oversized penis shot up hard the second it was freed of its soft cottony confinement. Anna ignored the boy's erection for the moment.
"Lift your little butt," she ordered.
Josh arched his back, and Anna took the soiled diaper away and discarded it. Then with a warm soapy cloth, she washed the boy's middle, paying extra attention to his ball sack and the sensitive skin of the boy's smooth hairless perineum. Josh let out a contented sigh when she touched him there, and his pre-teen erection got even harder. The young woman then proceeded to wash the eleven-year-old's penis, being careful to get under his foreskin. She noted that the opening of his urethra was a little red and inflamed from the catheter.
"Is that why it hurt when I pissed, ma'am?"
"That's why it hurts, cutie, but it will be better soon."
Josh suddenly became aware that Anna had set down the washcloth and was now slowly jerking him off.
"Ooh, miss..." he trembled and wiggled and sighed again and looked down the length of his body, staring at his hard five-and-a-half-inch erection sticking straight up between Anna's fingers.
Anna kept working on him, gently teasing the little eleven-year-old boy and his sexy big cock. Josh was panting and moaning, his muscular abdomen rising and falling with his rapid breaths. He pulled against the padded wrist cuffs as he got closer and closer to another dry orgasm. Only this time, his body had a little surprise for him. Still watching, he noticed a little drop of clear fluid oozing out of the tip of his penis. Anna saw it too and ran her finger over it, pulling away and forming a slender thread of sticky pre-teen pre-cum. She tightened her grip on Josh's rigid boycock and coaxed a few more drops out of him.
"You're making pre-cum for me," she said, running her fingers through the boy's blonde hair with her free hand. "Aren't you sweet. Let's see how much you can make for me."
For the next thirty minutes, Anna kept the poor eleven-year-old boy on the edge of a crippling orgasm, never allowing him to cum. His cock was leaking now, a lot like he'd seen his older brother's do whenever they'd masturbated together. Not nearly as much, but more than just those first few drops.
"Am I... am I gonna shoot some white stuff?" Josh asked between heavy rasping gasps.
"I don't think you can just yet, Joshie, but we'll find out soon, won't we?"
"Oh, yes, miss... ohhh, ohhhh, I'm cumming, miss!"
And he did. And it was still mostly dry, a short weak trickle of clear seminal fluid. Still, it was the first time anything but urine had ever come out of Josh's penis. He was quite proud of himself."Gee," he finally said when the spasms of his orgasm passed, "that sort of makes me a man now, right?"
Anna laughed at him and smacked him gently on the thigh. "If you say so. All I know is it's time to put this young man back into his little boy diaper."
Josh suddenly didn't feel quite so big.
"Would you like bunnies or spaceships?" Anna asked, still giving him a wicked smile.
"I'll take the spaceships, miss."
Anna powdered his middle and his genitals and put the new diaper on him. Josh looked down at it. It was white just like the first one, but he had to admit the ships were kind of cool. "No more bunnies," he giggled. Anna patted him on the head, strapped his ankles down once more. She held up a pacifier. Josh shook his head vehemently.
"Alright. But if you start making a fuss over here, it's going right in."
"I'll be good, miss."
She set it down on the small table beside the bed. Josh was too awake and too keyed up now to sleep. He'd actually shot something out of his dick. It wasn't much, really. Just some clear fluid, but it made him feel bigger and stronger, and he knew enough about how boys were made to know that in a few months' time he'd be shooting white stuff and lots of it, just like the older boys. He couldn't wait to see Chris and tell him.
The pony cart was parked outside the training facility. Special Training Room 2 was the only one currently occupied. Through the closed door, the sounds of Christopher Andrews screaming hysterically and begging for them to stop could be clearly heard. Inside the training room, the thirteen-year-old boy was lying on a metal table, his wrists and ankles locked down to the four corners. His butt was currently six inches above the metal surface, with a huge spiked dildo stuck half-way inside it. He was currently being hung by his genitals. His chastity cage had finally been removed, but a leather cock and ball harness had been put in its place. The harness was attached to a chain pulley directly above him.
"We can go higher, boy," Bruce said, pulling on the end of the chain and forcing poor Chris' ravaged butt another inch off the table. Another round of agonized screams issued from the young teenager's throat.
"Plllleeassse stop! Pleeeease, I can't . . . hurts soooo baaaad . . . plleeease," he thrashed his head desperately, finally fixing his wide terrified blue eyes on Lance. "Please," said more softly now as tears continued to fall. Lance felt pity for him certainly, but it was Bruce's money, Bruce's idea, Bruce's special vacation. There was nothing he could do for the boy. Not now.
"Alright, we'll stop. It's time for the needles anyway." Bruce had brought a set with him, specially designed to pierce the soft thin flesh of young boys. Lance shivered when he saw the silvery things in their black case. He'd almost forgotten the pain that could be inflicted on a kid.
"I think we'll do his nipples first."
With a dead, almost robotic expression, Lance joined his master and selected a six-inch needle. The two men stood on either side of the bound, helpless and screaming boy.
"Oh, no! No! Nooooo . . . " Chris' shriek trailed off into a heavy choking sob as the needles simultaneously pierced his nipples and were pushed through half-way to their widest point. Chris jerked wildly in his bonds, causing himself even more pain from his bound-up genitals, which were now taking quite a bit of the weight of his lean young body.
They gave him a few minutes to calm down and then began to insert needles all over his body. His belly button received one. Six of them, two at a time, were put into his pink hairless scrotum. Smaller thinner ones went into his ear lobes and through the soft flesh of his upper and lower lips, which were soon bleeding.
By now Chris was screaming so loud that his voice was beginning to break into higher and higher octaves. It was a sound of suffering that made Lance cringe. Bruce however was unmoved, or rather extremely turned on by it. He and Lance were both naked, and his cock was hard and dripping.
"Now we're going to do your penis. You'd like that, wouldn't you, boy?"
Chris violently shook his head and spit some blood from his lips out of his mouth.
"Tell me to pierce your big hard boy-cock. It is hard . . . look at it . . . look at your dick you filthy little slave . . . "
Chris found the strength to raise his head and stared at his hard leaking cock. Why did it always do that? He hated this. He wanted out of this room so bad, and yet there was his penis, erect and huge and throbbing and just beginning for nasty things to be done to it.
'What's wrong with me?' the boy thought. 'I'm a total sicko . . . '
"Tell me," Bruce shouted at him, running the end of a sharp needle along the length of the boy's six-inch boner. "Say it. Say 'Master, pierce my big hard boy-cock.'"
Chris shook his head and once again tried to look at Lance for sympathy.
"Don't look at him!" Bruce reached beneath the partially suspended boy and rammed more of the already bloody dildo up the thirteen-year-old's ass. Chris screamed again. "Say it! Say it now!"
"P . . . pierce . . . Master, pierce my . . . my . . . my big hard boy-cock!" With the needles piercing his lips, the boy's words were almost unintelligible.
"As you wish, slave."
One by one, scream by scream, five thin needles were passed through the flesh of Christopher's tortured penis. Chris stared open-mouthed at the silver rods that now decorated his boyhood. He was scared. He'd never been so scared. He didn't know if those things were going to ruin his dick forever or what might happen when they came out.
Again he was allowed to rest and catch his breath. Bruce then stared down at him, holding two more very thick dull needles in his hand.
"The last two. They're going into your balls. Tell me to stick these in your balls. Tell me."
Chris shook his head, sobbing uncontrollably now. "No . . . no . . . no . . . "
"Tell me, boy. Or I'll find even worse places to stick them."
Chris stared into the man's dark eyes. He knew he had no choice. "Master, please . . . please stick those into my . . . stick those into my balls!"
Bruce threw the two needles onto the metal table and smiled down at the boy. "Those would have destroyed you. I've never used them on anyone, I've never needed to. You're still hard, Chris."
Chris didn't need to look to know it was true. He could feel his erection throbbing insistently.
"Lance wants to take care of that for you, but let's get those things out first."
With great care, the two men removed the stainless steel needles from the boy's abused body. Aside from Christopher's lips, there was very little bleeding, much to the young gladiator's relief. Bruce removed the dildo and lowered the pulley, returning the boy's backside to the table. The cock and ball harness remained, as did the boy's eager erection.
Lance got up onto the table and straddled the boy's middle. "You've earned this one, Chris."
And so Chris got his cock sucked for the first time in his young life. He'd sucked Joshua's dick before, back home, but his little brother would never return the favor. Lance worked slowly, enjoying the feel of the boy's hard, rigid sex in his mouth. He breathed in deep. The sweet sweaty smell of thirteen-year-old boy was like a drug to him. Chris was so wound up by now that it wouldn't have taken him long at all if Lance hadn't been so adept. Finally he felt that familiar burning in his balls and knew he was going to cum. Nothing could stop that now. He clenched his fists, closed his eyes, shouted out in ecstasy and shot his load of creamy white boy seed into Lance's mouth.
"Oh, yeah!"
Chris slumped weakly and lay motionless on the metal table. He'd never had such a hard cum in all his life. The thirteen-year-old's penis slowly returned to its flaccid state, but, constrained by the cock and ball harness, it remained swollen, his foreskin still drawn partially back, his soft satiny ball sack a dark angry red. The boy moaned. Now that the intense pleasure of his orgasm was fading, the pain and ache of his tortured body began to overcome him once more. Tears formed in his exhausted eyes and he began to cry, softly. He would have given anything in that moment to be allowed to go home. With his blue eyes closed, he didn't see Bruce select a heavy wooden paddle from the wide array of disciplinary instruments hanging on the wall. Lance took the older man's wrist and slowly shook his head.
"Don't, Bruce, please. I don't think he can take anymore."
Bruce brushed his young submissive partner aside. "The boy will take whatever I give him. Pleasure doesn't come without a price. You had to learn that lesson when you were his age. So does he. Get him over to the stocks."
Chapter 31:
Half a world away from Gladiator Island, Samuel 'Shaka' Nguni hurried along the streets of suburban Johannesburg, his backpack slung carelessly over his right shoulder. The eleven-year-old's pleasant light brown skin stood against his white school shorts and khaki socks. His blue and yellow striped tie had been loosened the second he stepped off school grounds, and he'd undone the first three buttons of his light blue shirt. He'd stuffed his cap into his bag. The boy kept his hair in dreadlocks, the fashion for upper-class South African boys these days, and he hated wearing that stupid school hat. He was tall for his age, with a lean sinewy frame perfect for swimming and running, at both of which he excelled. The boy was eager to get home today to catch the latest tape-delayed broadcast of Worldwide Boy Gladiators. Like most of the black ruling class in South Africa, he got a particular thrill from seeing lowly whites being humiliated and tormented for his entertainment. But he knew there was more to it that just that. He liked watching the boy's nude bodies, watching their cocks flopping about as they ran and jumped and strained and struggled.He always ended up with a raging boner in his shorts.
As he ran home, he passed a work brigade of slave boys, all white, all under the age of thirteen and all naked except for the iron collars around their necks. They were chained together by their collars, sweeping the dirt and trash from the curbs. Two overseers, young black men in official government uniforms, were supervising the boys, with shock sticks at the ready. The two men tipped their caps to Samuel as he went by. Samuel returned the gesture and smirked at the six white boys. His eyes paused briefly at the chastity pods that encased their genitals. The boys on WBG also wore things like those. He wondered what it would feel like to have his penis locked away forever. Just the thought was enough to make his boyhood jump to life in his shorts. Now with a plainly visible erection, the young eleven-year-old turned through the open gate of his family's walled estate.
"Good evening, Mister Samuel," his family's white gardener said to him as the boy strode up the walk toward the sprawling single-story mansion. Sam knew that once upon a time, the gardener's ancestors probably lived here, but today in South Africa, whites were kept strictly in their place.
Samuel acknowledged the man with indifference and scampered under the colonnades of the main house.
"Pieter!" he called out rather impatiently when he reached the hallway. His voice was just showing the first signs of puberty. "I'm home..."
Seconds later, a nude white boy scurried into the hall. He was roughly the same age as Samuel, a few months older perhaps, but several inches shorter, with firm little muscles reflecting a life of hard work. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and a sweet, round, freckled face. An iron collar was welded around his neck, and a small ID tag hung from the steel ring in front of it. His genitals were somewhat small for a boy soon to be twelve. He had plump, grape-sized testicles stretched low by a two-inch wide metal band locked tightly around his scrotum. It was a rather painful adornment that he'd received when he was nine. The result was that his balls now formed a swollen purple mass at the end of the shiny metal band. Simply touching them was enough to make the boy wince. The boy had a slim, two-inch long, tightly circumcised penis, the end of which was pierced with a thick, heavy steel ring. Except for the shoulder-length hair on his head, his body was completely hairless. He'd sprouted a few pubic hairs in recent months, but they were always removed before they could thicken or spread.
"You're supposed to be waiting for me," Samuel almost pouted as the white, naked white boy took his backpack.
"I'm sorry, Master," Pieter replied with his head bowed.
"Well, you should be... and why aren't you wearing your belt?"
Pieter normally wore a wide leather belt around his slender waist. The ring at the tip of his tightly skinned cock would be clasped to a ring in the center of the belt, holding his cock up toward his stomach. Pieter's frequent erections were generally ignored, and he was strictly forbidden to touch himself. The belt served as a humiliating and constant reminder of his status in the Nguni household.
Pieter gave Sam an embarrassed look. "The missus, Master Sam, she was washing me this morning... I had a couple of hairs down there that had to come out..." he winced at the memory of the mistress' tweezers. "She sent me out to work in the garden, Master Sam, till you got home, Master Sam. She said she didn't want the belt to get dirty..." Pieter was generally not allowed to say much more than variations of 'Yes, master' or 'No, master', and so he stumbled awkwardly over his words. Like Samuel, his voice was just beginning to change.
"Oh," Sam smiled. "Well, we should go find it. You know you're not allowed to have your thing hanging free like that."
Pieter gave his master a shy grin and gazed down at his soft penis. "I know, sir. It feels weird."
"Let's hurry," Sam said, attaching a chain leash to Pieter's collar. "Gladiators is on at six. If you make me miss it, I'll have your ass whipped."
Pieter van der Merwe, eleven years and nine months old, had been a slave in the Nguni house since he was five. He and his young master had grown up together. It could be said that they were friends, up to a point, but Samuel never let the white boy forget that he was a slave, his slave. Pieter knew the threat of an ass whipping was not an empty one. He still had a hard time sitting down from the one he got the week before at Samuel's command. Pieter was always kept naked, even in public, and so his perpetually red and bruised rear end was always on display for everyone to see.
At five minutes to six, Pieter was once again properly secured in his belt, and the two boys were in Samuel's big room on the cool south side of the house.
"Turn the television on," Sam said as he took off his clothes and rummaged through his drawers to find a pair of shorts. Pieter had seen Samuel naked since they were little, and of course Pieter himself could not remember ever wearing clothes at all. Still, on the cusp of puberty, seeing Sam's smooth brown skin and his long, thick penis, considerably larger than his own, caused him to get a weird, tingly feeling between his legs. He turned on the liquid crystal HD set and programmed the right channel. He enjoyed Gladiators just as much as his master did, and for the next two hours, he and Sam would shout and giggle and cheer like best boy friends, rather than boy-master and boy-slave.
Sammy pulled on a pair of white cotton shorts, adjusted the ample contents hidden inside them, and sat down on his soft floor cushion. "Go get me a snack," he ordered. "Hurry or you'll miss something."
Pieter took off toward the kitchen. Sam picked up the remote and adjusted the volume. He slid his right hand absent-mindedly into his shorts and fondled his dick. He was fully erect by the time the WBG logo flashed on the screen and the 'Olympics'-style theme music began. He was stroking himself slowly when Pieter returned with sodas and cold sandwiches for them both.
Sam grinned shamelessly and pointed to the obvious and rather large tent in his shorts. "You can take care of this for me after the show."
"Yes, Master Sam," Pieter replied, handing his master, and his only friend in the whole world, his noticeably larger share of the early evening snack he'd sneakily procured from the pantry.He looked down at his cock and saw how shriveled and pathetic it looked, and how red and sore the tip of his foreskin was.
"You're gonna be hurting for a while," Bruce told him, gently stroking the young teen's soft four-inch penis. "But we didn't break the skin, so I don't want to hear you complaining. Now, on your feet. We'll get you cleaned up once we get back to the room."
Chris had a hard time getting his legs to work at all, and when he finally did, the pain in his feet made it impossible for him to stand up. He tried twice while Bruce and Lance watched him, but there was no way he was walking out of this room.
"I can't do it," the boy mumbled as he dropped to his knees. He was ashamed and humiliated and deathly afraid that this would only result in even more punishment.
"You can crawl then," Bruce announced, attaching the leash to the boy's collar once more. Lance gathered up all of the extra gear, including Chris' chastity cage, and the two men led the boy out of the training room. Chris got no relief from his exhaustion as he was again harnessed to the cart, this time on all fours, and made to pull them back to their luxury suite on the other side of the island. It was painfully slow going. Bruce was at least lenient with the whip. The sun had already gone down when Chris brought the cart and its passengers back to their room. He was quickly released from the harness, leashed again, and led back into the cool air-conditioned opulence of the VIP quarters.
A glass of cold water, a piece of fruit and an hour locked in the cage helped the boy regain a little of his strength. Chris actually felt rather strange as he lay curled up in the cage. The young teenager was growing accustomed to always being the center of attention. At the moment however, he was being largely ignored. Lance and Bruce were watching various clips and tape-delayed action from other parts of the island. Chris caught a glimpse of the black room. There was Josh, covered from head to toe in black latex and leather. Chris had no way of knowing if Josh was actually still being punished or not. Seeing his brother that way actually made his sore tortured penis twitch and swell and become half hard. Blushing and ashamed of himself, the boy looked away and managed to get in a quick cat nap before the unlocking of the cage door woke him.
Chris was given the luxury of twenty minutes to shower, all by himself. He was, of course, under strict orders not to touch his genitals, except to get them clean, but given his recent ordeal in the training room, he had no desire at all to play with himself. His nice teenaged cock hung soft between his smooth shapely legs as he stood under the warm stream and let all the sweat and dirt and blood wash away down the drain. He washed his hair, and then took great care in scrubbing his sore and aching genitals. Chris' balls were still red and swollen, and his penis hurt when he pulled back his foreskin to get clean.
With two minutes to spare, his hair still wet, his flanks still dripping, Chris presented himself to Bruce and Lance. He was no longer particularly modest about being naked around them, or anybody for that matter. He served them their dinner that night and once again got the privilege of feasting on their unwanted scraps. He then helped them pack their bags for their return home in the morning.
"Too bad we can't take you with us, boy," Bruce said, running his hands over Chris' taut abdomen and playfully flicking the thirteen-year-old's soft dangling penis. "We've got a nice big dungeon we could keep you in."
Chris wasn't sure if Bruce was serious. He didn't know anything about the legal details of his indenture. Maybe he could be sold. Either way he knew he wouldn't have any say in the matter. He decided it was best just to keep his mouth shut and keep working. Bruce smiled privately, seeing the fear in the young boy's eyes. He'd been thinking about acquiring a new slave boy, now that Lance was a young man, and Chris certainly fit his preferred criteria, intelligent, blond, muscular, and fairly well hung for a boy of thirteen. Naturally he knew young Christopher Andrews was not for sale. His indenture made him untouchable where that prospect was concerned. But perhaps it was time. And there were hundreds of suitable boys to choose from at the regional processing centers. That hadn't been the case back when he'd bought Lance.
Lance had been sentenced to slavery as an orphaned juvenile delinquent, as most boys were in the earliest days of the Child Enslavement Act. The court system was originally the only real source of new stock for the boy slave markets. That was ten years ago. Things were very different now. Boys from all levels of society were finding their way into the processing centers or the sweltering slave pens, some sold by their parents, some seized by creditors in payment for their parents' debts, some still sent there by the courts, and, increasingly a number of boys who had 'volunteered' to become slaves, in much the way the Boy Gladiators had signed their own indentures. Bruce would have no problem finding the perfect boy to keep locked in the dungeon. But he did decide that before he left the island, he would get young Christopher's home address. A visit to the boy's parents might just be in order.
Chris, for his part, spent the rest of the night naked at Bruce and Lance's feet, being a quiet, submissive little slave boy, fetching them food and drinks, sucking their cocks whenever they demanded it. He was free of his chastity device, and in spite of its recent ordeal his teenaged penis managed several strong erections. He was learning to ignore them, and Bruce and Lance made no further comments about it, nor did they touch it whenever it was hard.
The two men took the boy with them into their bed and set the cute young teenager between them as if he was their beloved pet. Chris' cock-cage remained on the table in the living area. Bruce gave him a stern lecture.
"I'm not going to put that cage on your dick tonight, boy. But you are not to touch yourself, and I don't want to wake up to hear you humping the mattress like some dog in heat, got it?"
"Yes, sir," Chris answered sleepily as he stretched his slim lean torso across the silken sheets. It was the first night Chris had spent in a real bed in almost four weeks. With the two men pressed against him, the exhausted boy drifted off to sleep. He was awakened once, to the not unpleasant feeling of Lance slowly entering him. The younger man fucked the boy gently, came quickly, and withdrew his cock from the boy's well-used hole. They were both asleep again in a matter of minutes.
In the barracks the next morning, eight boy gladiators were all lined up in the showers, washing their slim athletic bodies down under the watchful eyes of the guards. The matron wasn't here this morning, which meant that the boys' erect or semi-erect penises went for the most part unnoticed. Still, all the boys were careful not to touch themselves, and their hard boycocks wagged comically back and forth as they scrubbed and rinsed.
"Wow, Danny," Gabe said to his partner as they showered side by side, "I think your dick is actually getting smaller."
"Stop teasing me, Gabe," the twelve-year-old redhead replied. His was the only penis not currently in some state of erection. Gabe's on the other hand was presently at full mast, a nice thick five-and-one-half inch boy-boner proudly on display. Danny blushed when he once again noticed the huge difference between himself and his partner. "I know. I know its small, ok, I get it."
Gabriel's expression turned serious. "I'm not kidding, Dan. It really does look smaller." He pointed at Daniel's little undersized organ. Danny looked down at himself and surveyed his meager endowment. It did look smaller, even accounting for the effects of the ice cold shower. It wasn't even two inches long. The boy swallowed hard and stared back up at Gabriel in dismay.
"See what I mean?" Gabe asked. "I think your balls are smaller too."
Dan lifted his soft little wiener out of the way and took a hard look at his balls.
"Oh, god, they are smaller!" the boy almost shrieked. "What's happening to me?"
By now the other boys had joined the conversation. "Maybe it's the pills they give us every morning," David suggested.
"But that's supposed to make our dicks bigger," ten-year-old Miles observed, wiggling his slender hips and showing off his presently rock-hard little pickle, all two and three-quarter inches of it.
"Yeah, but they changed Danny's a few days ago," David replied astutely. "They're a different color than the rest of us get, so they must be giving him something different . . . something to make his dick and balls shrink."
Danny just stood there with a dumbfounded and rather horrified expression on his face. He already had a tiny little dink between his legs, now they were giving him pills to make it even smaller. "Oh, man, this sucks," he said, resting his hands on his hips and once again staring down at his genitals. "If they get any smaller, I won't have anything down here at all."
David, as the oldest, took on a brotherly role and laid his hand gently on Danny's shoulder. "I think that's kind of the idea, mate," he said sympathetically.
Danny wiped his eyes. It was totally unfair. If any boy needed help to make his dick grow bigger it was him, and instead they were going to make it smaller. He didn't have time to complain about it though, as the guards turned off the water, lined the boys up and proceeded to roughly scrub the boys' genitals, leaving eight sets of sore red penises and scrotums ready to be locked away in chastity devices once more.
After breakfast, Calvin Mayfair escorted Danny to the medical department.As always, Danny was required to run at full pace all the way there. Calvin trotted along behind, enjoying the sight of the cute muscular naked boy in front of him. Danny had a great set of legs, and all the running was toning them up even more. And the kid's butt was simply fantastic, firm, tight, and smooth as silk. Calvin could see the blunt end of the plug sticking out as the boy ran ahead.
Doctor Trench welcomed the young gladiator with a clinical smile and quickly put him on the scales.
"You're at your ideal body weight, Zero-Five. Excellent." She then went through the normal quick check-up routine, listening to his heart and lungs, then checking his eyes, ears, nose, and throat.
"Any problems keeping your food down?" she asked the boy. Nausea was a common side-effect of testroxil treatments.
Danny shook his head. "No, ma'am," he answered softly, keeping his eyes at his feet.
"Good. Now, let's get that belt off you and have a look. I'm going to give you a very thorough examination, and you'll be getting several injections today. You're going to be a big boy and behave for me, right?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Calvin handed over the keys to Daniel's chastity belt, and the doctor quickly removed it and set it aside. Danny remained silent and perfectly still, with his hands clasped behind his head. Immediately, Doctor Trench could see that the testroxil was beginning to have the desired effect. The boy's penis was noticeably smaller than the last time she'd examined him, and his testicles were beginning to shrink nicely too.
"What's happening to me, ma'am?" the twelve-year-old redhead summoned the courage to ask.
"Whatever do you mean, Zero-Five?" Trench replied, knowing full well the urgency of the boy's question but relishing in watching him squirm and curl his little toes in apprehension.
"My... umm... my dingle-dangle, ma'am... I think it's getting smaller... so are my, you know... my balls." The boy's face was as red as the hair on his head.
Trench smiled. "A boy your age is old enough to use the right term," she scolded him, gently flicking his circumcised penis with her forefinger. "From now on, in this office, you will refer to it as your penis. Although, it won't even be a dingle-dangle when we're finished with your treatments. I'm sure you've noticed that you're getting a different pill from the other boys."
Danny nodded his head. "I didn't at first, ma'am. But yesterday I saw it was a different color, ay."
"That's right. Your little parts were so small, we've decided to make them even smaller."
Young Daniel gulped and looked down at his little boy package. "How... how small are they gonna get, ma'am?"
"Well," the woman explained in a kindly, matter-of-fact way, "for the most part, your penis will disappear entirely. Your little acorn head there will still stick out, but that's it. That should happen by the end of next week. Your balls will take longer to shrink, but they'll end up the size of marbles. Your scrotum will shrink too."
Danny had never really had much interest in that stuff between his legs, but it was still a devastating blow. He started to tear up almost immediately.
"Oh, it's not that big a deal," Alison Trench told him. "You'll be happier being castrated. Trust me."
Danny's green eyes shot up at her in panic. He'd heard that word before and he knew what it meant, and he knew slave boys often got their boyparts removed. "You're... you're gonna cut my balls off?!" he nearly shrieked, he was so distraught.
"No, silly. We don't need to. The chemicals are doing the same thing. You'll still have everything down there, they just won't work anymore."
"Is it... is it gonna be, like, forever?"
"No, Daniel," the doctor replied, using his real name for the first time. "Once you stop taking the pills, everything will start to grow back. But the company is going to keep you like this for your entire indenture."
Danny wiped his eyes. It was still terrible, but at least he knew it wasn't permanent.
"When was the last time you had an erection?" the doctor asked as she examined the boy's testicles and gave them a firm squeeze.
The twelve-year-old boy wrinkled his nose in thought. "Don't know, ma'am. It's been a few days, ay. I guess when Josh 'n me were wrestling."
"And your little penis hasn't been hard since?"
Danny shook his head morosely. "Not really, ma'am. It kinda swells up in the morning, just a bit."
"Rub it for me. Let me see if you can give yourself an erection."
By now, the doctor's assistants had gathered round the naked boy. Danny blushed fiercely and wrapped three fingers around his soft, limp little penis. After ten minutes of intense pumping and pulling and yanking, he'd managed to make it red and sore, but it was still perfectly soft.
"Good," Doctor Trench announced after ordering him to stop. "No sign of an erection. You won't be having any more of those for a long time. Now, climb up on the exam table and put your feet in the stirrups. I need to administer an injection into your testicles. This is really going to hurt. Strap him down, ladies."
Once Daniel was on the table, Anna tightened the leather straps over the boy's thighs and locked his ankle shackles to the stirrups. Karin fitted the chest strap snugly and secured it in place beneath the table. Together they moved the stirrups out and up, spreading the twelve-year-old's legs painfully and embarrassingly wide. Danny's little parts were now utterly defenseless. Anna then buckled a thin leather strap around the boy's scrotum, forcing his balls out from his body. Doctor Trench had meanwhile prepared the syringes for injecting a concentrated dose of testroxil directly into the boy's testicles.
Curious in spite of his terror, Danny watched as the first needle was pressed against his right testicle. The doctor held it there for a few seconds. Danny winced at the feeling of the cold, thin, sharp point. Then, with wide, bewildered eyes, he watched as the three-inch-long needle was pushed halfway into his testicle. He opened his mouth to scream in pain and panic, but no sound came out, just a shocked and desperate little squeal. Trench pressed the plunger, injecting the clear fluid. Danny's eyes grew even wider, and he winced sharply.
"You'll feel a little burning at first, then it will go numb for a while." She pulled the needle out and set it aside, picking up the second one. "Now let's do the left one."
Again, Danny endured the horror of having the thin, sharp needle jabbed into one of his testicles. It was all over in an instant, but from the boy's perspective, it seemed to take forever. Anna and Karin released the straps and got him back to his feet. The leather strap around his balls remained cinched tightly in place for another five minutes while the doctor continued her examination.
"Bend over and grab your ankles. Keep still now."
Danny's butt-plug was removed, and he was given a thorough prostate exam. A few clear drops of prostatic fluid dribbled out of his soft little dick.
"His prostate seems healthy," she informed Calvin and her assistants. "It's going to become extraordinarily sensitive over the next few years, a rather wicked side-effect of the drug. He won't have a single erection or orgasm, and he won't produce any sperm, but he'll be leaking almost constantly."
"How humiliating," Karin said in mock sympathy, playfully fondling the twelve-year-old's now dormant genitals.
"We're done here for now, Cal," Trench told the boy's trainer. "We'll get him plugged and you can take him on his way." She picked up the boy's chastity belt and handed it to Calvin. "I don't think he'll be needing this anymore," she observed, "but rules are rules, aren't they?"
Calvin nodded and quickly locked Daniel back into the chastity belt, making sure the metal genital plate was as tight and snug as possible.
"Come on, limp-dick," he said, tugging at the ring on the boy's collar, "you've got weight training this afternoon, and I want you to do some laps in the pool first."
Danny nodded, embarrassed at this turn of events, but determined that he was still going to kick everyone's ass on this island.
"You know the rules, boy. Run to the pool and wait for me. I'll be along in a few minutes. Don't go in the water unless there's another trainer there, got it?"
"Yes, sir," Danny said, all too happy to run from the medical center as fast as his gorgeous muscular twelve-year-old legs could carry him.
Chapter 32:
Josh was released from medical at mid-morning. Hannah collared him and shackled him and hung the heavy chain from his neck once more. Just as the boy had feared, she decided to make him keep wearing the diaper.
"You wear this," she said, playfully squeezing the eleven-year-old's oversized bulge beneath the thick cotton padding, "or the chastity belt."
Josh wasn't sure he was actually being given a choice, but he hated that belt. It made his balls go up inside him, and he hated having his penis pinned down between his legs. At least in the diaper, his dick could get hard if it wanted to, and no one would say anything about it.
"Besides, you look adorable. Spaceships, huh? I liked the bunnies better, but boys will be boys. Come on."
"Where are we going, ma'am?" Josh asked politely as Hannah led him by his chain out into the warm, humid tropical morning.
"I'm taking you back to the barracks. We need to get some solid food in you before you do anything else. Then Michella and I have something nice planned for you and One-Zero this afternoon."
Josh didn't much like the sound of that, but his growling stomach and the promise of real food, even slave food, was all he could really think about.At that same moment, Chris was just waking up in the big, soft, luxurious bed. His body was stiff and sore, his head hurt, and for the first time since he could remember, he didn't have a raging morning boner between his legs. He actually reached down and flicked his soft penis with his fingers. It still ached from being pierced with all those needles.
"No wonder it won't get hard," Chris thought, thinking back to yesterday and the horror of the training room. He moved around under the silken sheet, arched his back, and let out a big yawn. Lance was still there in bed beside him. Bruce could be heard moving around out in the living area. Chris managed to sit himself up on one elbow. He gazed at Lance's sleeping face and allowed his eyes to trail down the young man's lean and superbly muscular torso. Rather naturally or artificially, Lance's body was just as hairless as his own, except for that dark patch of pubic hair crowning his cock. Chris' sleeping penis finally seemed to wake up and swelled to a semi-erect state. The thirteen-year-old boy blushed. He felt sort of embarrassed. He'd never looked at a grown man, even though a very young one, this way before.
As if it had a mind of its own, he found his hand slowly running down Lance's smooth chest. "Oh, god, what am I doing?" the boy thought as his young heart raced. But he didn't stop. Instead, he moved closer and continued his explorations until his hand reached Lance's abdomen. Lance opened his eyes and smiled at him.
"I... uh... I was just... umm..."
"You're curious. It's okay. I was a gay boy myself... not too long ago."
"Can I... you know... " Chris pointed to Lance's erection. "Can I suck it?"
"Hmmm, a sexy thirteen-year-old boy wants to suck my dick," Lance said with a grin. "What should I say?"
Chris smiled back shyly. In that moment, with sleep still in his eyes and his hair mussed from tossing and turning, he looked considerably younger than his proud thirteen years. He curled himself up slowly, his bruised and aching body making him wince. He stroked Lance's penis with his left hand first, then, timidly, he took the young man's sex into his mouth. Chris was quickly becoming quite adept at this task, but this was the first time he'd initiated it. It actually felt rather dizzying.
"Don't ever be ashamed of who you are, Chris," Lance whispered, gently stroking the young boy's back, careful to avoid the painful welts that remained from the night before. It didn't take Chris long to make Lance cum, and the boy dutifully swallowed all of the young man's seed.
Thirty minutes later, without breakfast and with a growling stomach, Chris was standing at the entrance to the barracks, once again locked in his chastity device, plugged, and wearing all of the leather gear he'd started off in. His body was bruised and sore, his back, buttocks, and the backs of his thighs were covered in welts. The soles of his feet still hurt a lot. He was glad this latest ordeal was over, but he was also scared. He'd missed two days of training, and the next round of competitions was coming up. He knew he wasn't going to be ready.
Bruce swatted the boy on the rump after signing him back over to the guards at the gate. "See you around, kid," he said. "We'll be back next year."
Lance didn't say anything at all. He gave the boy a kindly glance, then turned and walked off with his partner toward the airstrip.
The guards marched Chris inside, removed all of the leather, and replaced it with the iron collar and shackles the boy had now become accustomed to wearing. To his delight, there was a breakfast tray waiting for him on the table. It had gone cold some time ago, but he didn't mind at all. He sat down gingerly on his sore, tender butt and ate ravenously, occasionally raising his head to look around. The barracks were deserted this morning. He assumed all the other boys were out practicing and training. His eyes fell to the lighted scoreboard which was now a permanent fixture on the far wall. The points and standings for the new week so far were up there. Being out of action for two days, Chris only had the demerits he'd gotten on Sunday, and no bonus points at all. That put him squarely in the middle of the pack, which really wasn't a bad place to be when it came right down to it.
"Could have been worse," he thought to himself. He saw that his brother was no longer in last place, although he was very much in the red. Illya was leading once again. Generally well-behaved, and demonstrating amazing athletic prowess and endurance, the shy Russian lad, who seldom opened his mouth, was quickly becoming the boy to beat in the early days on the island. The rest of the boys were spread out evenly. He was surprised to see little Miles in the top three.
"That'll change," he thought smugly. All the boys liked Miles, but they didn't consider him to be a real Boy Gladiator like they were. He was just a little kid after all, what competition could he possibly be to them?
Chris had just returned his attention to his breakfast, now even colder, when he heard a soft and familiar voice behind him.
"Hey, Chris."
It was Josh.
Chris turned and saw his little brother for the first time in several days. Actually, this was just about the longest either of them could remember ever being totally separated. Chris immediately noticed Josh's diaper but decided not to say anything for the moment. He was too happy to see him. He got up from the table, and the two boys hugged, something they almost never did.
"Are you ok?" big brother asked.
"Yeah, I'm good," little brother answered, and the two of them sat down to talk.
"What was it like in that room?"
Josh tried to put on a brave front for his older brother, but Chris could see the fear that flashed into the younger boy's eyes at the mere mention of it. "Aw, it wasn't that bad," Josh lied. "The suit they put me in felt weird, like another skin or something... the hood sucked... and they put this tube thingy in my dick... still kinda hurts when I pee..."
"What's with the diaper, Joshie?"
"They said I needed that when they took me outta there. I was kinda out of it for a while. Now Hannah thinks I look cute in it, so I gotta wear it 'til she says."
Chris had to admit his little brother did actually look adorable in the puffy white diaper with the colorful spaceships. If he hadn't been so tired, he'd have teased him about it mercilessly.
Josh looked down at his cotton-clad middle and pointed to the ships. "At least these are kinda cool. When I woke up, they had me in bunnies!"
"Bunnies!" Chris laughed.
"Yeah, for serious, man, like I'm some little kid or... or like a girl or something."
"There's boy bunnies too," Chris giggled and nudged his little brother in the leg.
"Duh, I know that. What happened to you? You look like total shit."
"Thanks, bro. I... uh,... I got rented, for two days..."
"Rented? Oh, you mean..."
"Yeah."
"What did they do to you? Did they, you know, make you do sex stuff?"
"Yeah," Chris said with a sigh. Thinking back, it was so hard, the things Bruce and Lance did to him and made him do, and yet some of it was really kind of exciting. As proof, his abused cock twitched inside its cage. "Yeah, sex stuff... lots of that..."
Josh was full of questions. "Did they, um, put their, uh, thingies inside you?"
"You mean did they fuck me?"
Josh smiled and blushed. It was weird hearing his brother say that word. They weren't allowed to use words like that at home. "Yeah, that."
"Lots of times. My butt still hurts. I had to suck their dicks too."
"Bet you liked that part, didn't you?"
Chris was shocked. "You don't know anything about that, so shut up."
"Oh, come on, Chris. I've known you were gay for as long as you've known you were gay. What's the big deal?"
"I am NOT talking to my little brother about this, ok? Period."
"K. Just want you to know it's cool with me... you know... how you like boys 'n stuff. You think I'm cute?"
"Shut up, Josh," but Chris said it with a smile, and the Andrews brothers spent the next few minutes joking and teasing just like they did back home. Hannah then came for Josh, and Jason arrived for Chris shortly thereafter.
"Damn, kid, you look like hell. What did those guys do to you anyway?"
Chris didn't bother to answer. He just stood there stoically as Jason attached his chains. "Better go easy on you today. We'll start in the weight room and go from there."
"Yes, sir," Chris replied with a glum and worried expression. He knew he was in no shape to lift weights, or do anything. He just wanted to sleep, but that would obviously have to wait.
In Special Training Room One, Joshua and David were presently on their knees in front of Hannah and Michella who were seated side by side. The two women had tied the boys' hands behind their backs with rope. Josh had lost his diaper, and David was temporarily freed of his chastity cage. The eleven and fourteen-year-old boys had their heads between the legs of their boy-hating lesbian trainers and were learning, rather awkwardly, how to pleasure them.
"Mmmm," Michella moaned, turning her gaze to Hannah. "I never thought I'd get so much fun out of a naked little boy..." she paused to kick David in the thigh. "Let me feel your tongue you stupid brat."
"You've got him hard," Hannah said, observing David's throbbing, leaking erection. "Can't say the same for dick-boy here. Get it up, Zero-Two. I want that big thing nice and hard. Get it hard for me."
At eleven, Josh really didn't have too much control over when his penis got hard and when it didn't.He knew it seemed to misbehave at all the wrong times, and now, when Hannah wanted him to spring a boner, he couldn't get one.
"Five demerits, Joshie," Hannah said with relish. The boy whined plaintively, but did not dare stop using his tongue between the woman's legs. "You know, Mich, we really should look into buying a boy. If we went in together, we could get a real cute one just like these two."
Michella leaned back and panted for a moment. David was clearly doing a much better job at his assigned task than young Joshua. "What was that... oh, a boy. I've thought about that too. You don't think Durand would object, do you?"
"What business is it of his what we do in our free time? Keep going, Josh, this doesn't concern you. Durand keeps that pet boy of his, parades him around the island like a trophy. Let's save up and do it."
Michella smiled and gasped again. "Good boy, David. Don't stop... mmmm..."
"We can check the online brokerage firms tonight after the reception and see what they've got. Just think, Mich, a little piece of boy-meat all our own... we could do things to him we can't do with these two..."
Michella, however, was getting close to an orgasm and wasn't really paying her partner much attention. She grabbed the back of David's head and pressed the boy closer. The fourteen-year-old was now groaning and struggling to somehow get his bound arms to reach around to his desperately hard dick, but there was no way he could do it. With the plug constantly massaging his over-active adolescent prostate and his penis normally encased in a stainless steel cage, to say he was frantic for an orgasm was a mild understatement.
"Don't you worry about that little thing between your legs, Davy," Michella said in her most evil manner. "You have a session with the milking machine as soon as we're done."
David moaned again and flinched at the mere mention of that terrible machine. He clearly remembered the last time, the humiliation of being up on that table on his hands and knees, his balls dangling between his thighs, his cock imprisoned in that steel tube, and the exquisite ecstasy and agony of being milked dry by the relentless, merciless machine.
William Durand was interrupted from reading the latest financial reports by Trevor's timid knock at the study door.
"Yes, Trevor," he said rather impatiently. The boy had been cleaning the house today and not being terribly quiet about it.
"I'm sorry, master, but Jason Sanborne is in the hall. He... um, well, he said he'd knock me silly if I made him wait on the porch. He's... he's got one of them with him... one of the gladiators, sir."
Durand raised his right eyebrow. He had established strict rules about who could be admitted into his private mansion, and the ten Boy Gladiators were most definitely not on the list.
"I think he's really mad about something, sir..." Trevor continued, nervously wiggling his toes.
"Really?"
"Quite pissed, I'd say, sir," the small slender fourteen-year-old replied with a worried look.
"Watch your language, Trevor. Why don't you go down to the beach while I take care of Mister Sanborne. I'll join you later."
Trevor's eyes lit up and he promptly stripped off his skimpy thong (a pink one today) revealing his smooth lean body and his tiny almost non-existent genitals. He could get to the beach through the glass doors of the study and he quickly ran through.
"Thank you, master," he managed to shout as his feet hit the wooden deck.
Durand gazed after his prize boy for a moment, then rose, straightened his designer shirt and walked purposefully into the hall. He found Jason standing there with an angry scowl on his face and next to him, wrists and ankles in chains, just as Trevor had reported, was one of the boy gladiators. He stared at the lad for a moment and recognized him as the older Andrews boy.
"Good afternoon, Jason." He did not bother extending a greeting to the naked indentured boy. "I don't suppose it occurred to you to leave that little animal chained outside."
"He's the reason I'm here, sir," Jason said, trying to contain his mounting anger. Chris was simply a mess at the moment. Too sore and exhausted and too mentally distressed from his ordeal to focus on his training. He was going to be useless during the weekend competitions, if he could compete in them at all. That meant demerits, lots of them, and even though Jason had no particular hesitation to see the boy punished in extraordinary ways, the fact was that Christopher's performance, good or bad, reflected directly on him. If Chris lost, Jason lost, in a manner of speaking. "Look at him, Bill."
Durand was no fool. He knew from the first that the boy must have been badly used in the last few days. His lithe thirteen-year-old body was covered in bruises and welts and even extra food and a warm shower had done little to erase his haggard appearance.
"Do I need to explain it further?" Jason asked. "How in the hell do you expect me to get this boy ready to compete, or keep him in proper training, when he's spending his days with our sadistic clients?"
"I certainly agree that Bruce got a bit carried away. He has that reputation."
"That's not really the point," Jason continued, letting go of the chain attached to Christopher's collar. It dropped against the boy's chest. "I have no problem with seeing this boy suffer, that's part of the arrangement, I knew that when I signed on, and so did he for that matter," he swatted Chris on the butt. "But we make money and get ratings when our boys are on camera and when they're competing. It's just bad for business if I can't get this kid into the arena."
"He won't be competing this weekend?"
Jason shrugged his shoulders. "Certainly not in some of the events. He can barely walk, let alone run. Show him your feet, Zero-Seven."
Chris obediently turned around and raised his left foot then his right, revealing the nasty livid stripes that still made each step painful for him.
"Oh, dear. That is serious," Durand replied.
"You are damn right it is, Bill. These boys represent a huge investment in time, energy and money. They're animals, yes, but thoroughbreds. We need to be more careful with them."
Durand was not an unreasonable man. He hadn't become the head (and owner) of the world's most influential multi-media empire without listening to good advice when it came his way. "What do you suggest, Jason? That we stop offering the boys' services to our clients? I am sorry, but that option is just too lucrative to abandon. We made half-a-million this week from those two boys."
"Just tone things down a bit, Bill. Twelve hours, twenty-four max, and certain body parts that would affect their athletic performance must be off-limits from now on."
"That is a sensible compromise. We can't have them laying in medical when we go live on the weekends, can we?"
"That won't be good for the project, sir."
"I agree. We'll discuss changing the rental options at our staff meeting tomorrow. Acceptable?"
"Perfectly."
"Good. I'll see you at the reception this evening. Our newest group of visitors should start arriving later this afternoon."
Jason grabbed the chain attached to Chris' collar and gave the boy a firm tug indicating it was time to go.
"Oh, and Jason. If you ever bring one of those filthy little beasts into my home again, you will be on the next plane out. Understood?"
"Perfectly."
By evening, all ten boys were together again for the first time in several days, just in time for the latest reception for the incoming group of VIPs and special guests. It was only Wednesday, but now that the show had officially begun, guests had started arriving throughout the week in accordance with their own private schedules. The regular weekly reception was thus moved up to ensure that those who arrived earlier in the week had something to look forward to. This would mark the first week of the normal competition schedule as well, with the boys engaged in intense training on Thursdays and a new round of events and ordeals starting first thing Friday morning. The boys of course were not specifically told about these changes. It was none of their business after all. It was their job to go where they were told, do what they were told and not ask questions.
As before, they were dressed in their short skin-tight sleeveless tunics and their even shorter and tighter white shorts which revealed ten cute boy-bulges, some very large, a few very small, but all incredibly adorable. The boys' chastity devices had been removed for the evening, and they remained under the strict rules of not touching themselves or having orgasms without permission.
Once again the floor of the main arena played host to the island's new arrivals. Some had boys with them, invariably clad in a wide array of chains, irons, leather and latex, others seemed to be alone, but all of them were sharply dressed. The boy gladiators stood at attention in the midst of this gathering of well-to-do men and women of power and influence. Showered, scrubbed and all now with nicely bronzed skin, they each turned slowly in a circle so everyone could get a good look at them. Five pairs of muscular berry-brown boy legs were on display, ten firm adorable little butts, presently clad in tight white shorts. Their hair had started to grow in some and by popular demand it had been decided that all the boys would be wearing their hair long. The boys' tunics were all embarrassingly short, revealing their taut toned abdominal muscles and their adorable and highly kissable navels. The guests applauded their appearance.The gladiators knew their roles this evening without being told and immediately went to the serving tables to pick up their trays of food. They moved about quickly from guest to guest and group to group, having formed a silent pact that speed and agility might help them avoid having their cocks and balls played with. All of them remembered their punishments for having unauthorized orgasms at this same event the week before. The spanking machine was already set up at the far end of the arena to chastise any boy whose penis misbehaved.
Chris alone amongst the boys could not keep up with their swift pace. While the others, including his little brother, danced and dodged playfully around the guests, the thirteen-year-old was a boy in slow motion. His feet hurt so badly, and his joints were stiff. As the only easy catch, he was the first of the boys to be relieved of his shorts, forced to walk around nude from the waist down with his nice long teenaged cock swinging provocatively between his legs.
Of course, the boys' plan to avoid prodding and probing hands backfired on them. By swirling and skipping and dashing around the arena, they only incited more excitement and interest from the crowd. Catching one of the boys long enough to fondle the contents of his shorts became each guest's principal objective. The trainers all looked on with wry smiles.
"Little shits thought they were going to get away with something, didn't they?" Roger Bramley said to young Sergei Casparev, Illya's big brother.
Sergei himself, being only seventeen, was receiving quite a bit of attention from certain elements of the crowd too. Those who preferred older boys found him to be rather irresistible, but Sergei wisely turned down their many offers. As the junior-most trainer, he had to watch his step, but he was not above flirting and teasing. On several occasions, Illya came over to him in an attempt to get away from the grasping hands of the VIPs. The boy had so far managed to keep both his shorts and his tunic, but his enormous semi-erect penis, trapped inside the tight white shorts, made a tempting target. Sergei showed a rare moment of mercy, allowing his little brother to stand close to him for a few minutes while he pretended to decide which finger-food he should select from the boy's tray.
"Thanks, Serge," Illya whispered before he was sent back into the fray.
By the time the food was consumed to everyone's satisfaction, Chris, Philippe, and David were completely nude. Danny and Gabe had lost their tunics but not their shorts. Ian, Josh, and Alexei were missing their pants but still had their tunics, and by some miracle, little Miles and tall muscular Illya were still fully dressed, if that term could be applied to those skimpy uniforms.
As a special bonus, the boys were all returned to the center of the arena where a low platform had been set up by the mules. The gladiators all stood there together wondering what was going to happen next.
"I hope everyone has brought their cameras," William Durand announced. "The boys are now available for photographs. But first, I think the ones who are still wearing clothes should take them off, don't you?"
The guests shouted in agreement, and soon chants of "Strip! Strip! Strip!" were being directed at the partially dressed boys. Moments later, all ten boy gladiators were standing there under the harsh lights in all their pre-teen and teenaged glory. Being so exposed naturally induced erections in several of the boys, and that's when the flashes from the digital cameras began.
For the next hour, the boys were subjected to an embarrassing photo session. They had to pose in lewd and provocative positions, bending over and spreading their butt-cheeks, having their genitals photographed from close-up, being forced to kiss one another, masturbate one another to the brink of orgasm, the older boys made to lick their pre-cum off their cocks with their fingers. One group had taken Gabe and Miles (the two British boys) aside and were making Gabriel insert his penis into Miles' little butt. Of course, Miles had been plugged and had dildos shoved up there since his arrival, just like the older boys, but Gabe's was the first real penis that had been forced inside him. It hurt a lot, and the little boy screamed and cried and begged for Gabe to take it out. Gabriel wanted to, but strong adult hands on his slender waist held him firmly in position as frame after frame of Miles' rough deflowering by an older boy was captured and would soon be in private collections all around the world. This, of course, was the first time twelve-year-old Gabe had put his five-inch erection into anyone or anything, and he couldn't believe how great it felt. He came inside the crying ten-year-old's butt a few minutes later. He tried not to, but it just felt so incredibly good. He clenched his eyes closed, tensed his muscles, and shot his milky not-quite-teenaged seed into the little boy's rectum. Miles was humiliated and sobbing, and he collapsed on the floor when the adults finally let Gabe pull out. The older boy knelt down beside him and patted him on the back.
"I'm sorry, Miles, I really am," he whispered before being led away to the spanking machine. For having an orgasm without permission, Gabriel would soon discover that he was indeed very, very sorry.
By the end of the evening, only half of the boys had spent time on the Boy-Spank 350, but all of them were rather worse for wear. The march back to the barracks was a dead silent one. They were allowed to shower again, given a small snack and a glass of milk, locked into their chastity devices once more, and secured in their cells for the night. The second week of live competition would start on Friday. Tomorrow they had a full day of harsh physical training to look forward to.
"I can't believe they took all those pictures of us," Josh said to David as the two boys settled onto their bunks. Happily, he was not in a diaper. Unhappily, his cock and balls were once again confined by the metal plate of his chastity belt. "I mean, can't they just watch us on TV like everyone else?"
David, for his part, got a rather strange thrill from showing off his body for the camera. He was a well-built kid, with a lithe body perfectly proportioned and toned for swimming. He was proud of the way he looked and happy about how much stronger he'd gotten since he'd been on the island. "I don't know, mate," he replied thoughtfully, his adolescent voice cracking, "I thought it was kinda nice. The way they look at us, you know..."
"I don't like the way they look at me, they tease me about my big dick."
"So do I," the fourteen-year-old replied with a crooked grin.
"That's different. You're my friend, and I tease you about yours too."
"Mine isn't really that small, Josh. Yours is just way too big."
"Shut up, Davy," the younger boy said, mimicking Michella's sweet sarcastic tone when saying his name.
David was across the space between the bunks instantly and on top of Josh a split second later.
"Wanna wrestle me, huh?" Josh asked, squirming under the bigger boy's weight.
The two boys laughed and grappled for a few minutes before David called it off and returned to his bunk.
"Night, mate. Let's kick ass this week, ok?"
"Totally," Josh said, curling onto his side and drifting off to sleep.With the loud blaring of the Worldwide Boy Gladiators theme over the speakers, the ten young warriors, fresh from breakfast, ran out of the tunnel in military lockstep. Their regular slave collars had been exchanged for thicker, heavier ones with sharp spikes. They were wearing their wrist and ankle shackles, as always, but they were not chained. The boys' various chastity devices had been removed and replaced with tight-fitting cock and ball harnesses that induced erections, or at least obvious swellings in all the young penises. Even Daniel's was hanging longer and thicker than normal, simply because of the blood trapped inside it by the steel rings of the harness. He wasn't hard. By now, Daniel knew that he would not be able to have an erection again for the next four years. He wasn't sure exactly how he was supposed to feel about that, but at the moment he had the latest upcoming event to occupy his mind.
Josh, much to his relief, was not wearing a diaper. He stood there in the tropical sun with his hard, oversized penis jutting straight out and bobbing rapidly with the beat of his pulse. With his punishment and his time spent in medical, the eleven-year-old had missed the whole week of training, and even though his joints were still stiff and sore, he was eager to get back to competing. Everything else about the island and being a slave totally sucked, but he liked the thrill of competition, of pitting himself against the bigger, older, stronger boys. He promised himself he'd never chicken out, no matter what they did to him. A little snarl came to his lips as the crowd cheered.
As a group, they ran a single lap around the track, to be sure everyone on both sides got a chance to see them. Then, as with the start of each live competition, the boys formed a straight line in front of the spectators and saluted. They all smiled sheepishly at each other, giggled as if they shared a secret, then in unison they shouted:
"We are BOY GLADIATORS! We've got muscles, we've got cocks, we're brave and strong . . . and we don't wear socks . . ."
Young Ian, who came up with this new chant at breakfast, then shouted in his high unbroken voice, "We don't wear anything!"
All ten of them then struck various poses and wiggled their boy-cocks and cute little butts at the spectators. The crowd laughed. The trainers frowned. William Durand, from his luxury box, smiled. His boy gladiators were definitely becoming stars.
With the preliminaries out of the way, and Mike Brussard's camera teams ready, the first of the day's events was set to start. The oldest boys were prepared first. They were made to sit down on the wooden sledges bearing their respective numbers. The sledges were completely flat with two metal rings on each side. The trainers quickly attached their boy's wrist and ankle shackles to these rings, ensuring that the young gladiators would not be able to get off the sled until the event was complete. The boys were sitting up straight, with their arms slightly behind and their legs bent up and spread wide in front of them, their harnesses and excited genitals on lewd display. Thirteen-year-old Illya's freakish eight-inch erection drew gasps of amazement and some laughter from the crowd.
The biggest of the boys just barely fit on the sledges. All of them still had their butt-plugs in, so they were squirming uncomfortably on the hard flat wooden surfaces. Their discomfort only increased when the trainers attached large heavy clamps to their nipples. Poor Chris' nipples were already sore and swollen from being pierced and tortured by Bruce. He screamed and wailed and bucked like a wild horse when the hard, merciless steel clamps went on. Of course, he wasn't the only boy who shouted, but he was the loudest.
"It can't be that bad, Zero-Seven," Jason told him, "all you've got to do for this one is sit and hold on to the sledge, so stop your whining. I've got even bigger clamps I could use, if you make me look like a fool out here."
That threat was enough for Chris to behave himself. With wet eyes, he nodded and tried to regain his composure.
A long, thick chain was attached to the end of each clamp. Two more chains of similar weight and thickness were clasped to the d-rings embedded on either side of the boys' cock and ball harnesses. The five older boys now had four heavy chains connected to the most sensitive parts of their young bodies. All the chains were momentarily allowed to lie upon the ground, while the younger boys were prepared for their part in this latest spectacle of pain and suffering. The little ones were first put into knee pads and chest harnesses, then they too received nipple clamps like the ones already bringing tears to their older counterparts' eyes. The five youngsters were given all of thirty seconds to get used to the merciless clamps on their tiny boy-nips.
"Alright, sprouts," Jason shouted, "get down on your hands and knees so your trainers can hook you up to your partners."
The nature of the event suddenly became dreadfully clear to the boy gladiators. A reverse of the positions in the chariot race, with the younger boy pulling and the older boy riding, only this time the boys were chained together by their genitals and their nipples. Ten pairs of young eyes bore very worried expressions. The trainers finished hooking the boys together. One final chain connected the back of the younger boy's harness to the front of his partner's collar.
"Twice around the track, boys," Jason shouted over the rising noise of the crowd. "Winning team is excused from the next event . . . and trust me, you want to be the winning team."
With a signal from Jason, Roger Bramley blew his whistle to start the contest. The five youngest gladiators crawled forward, groaning in distress as their genitals and nipples were pulled harshly by the chains. Their older partners joined them almost instantly. After moving forward only a few feet, all ten boys were shouting and blinking tears out of their eyes as their most tender parts were yanked away from their bodies. This wasn't going to be an event of speed, but rather simple endurance. Chained to the sledges, the older boys were basically helpless dead weight, all they could do was sit there and shout encouragement, or curses, at their younger partners. Pulling the sled proved to be a particularly difficult challenge for Miles and Ian. Miles because he was by the far the smallest boy, and Ian because his partner Illya was the biggest.
"We are not finishing last, mate!" David shouted at Josh through clenched teeth. His cock and balls had been stretched a good two inches from his hairless groin. His nipples were in much the same painful state. "Go faster!"
"That's easy for you t'say," Josh snapped back. His genitals were now being tugged painfully behind him, his big long oversized penis swinging from side to side as he crawled along. His nipples felt like they were on fire. They were currently in the middle of the pack, but all five teams were within a boys-length of each other, and the pace was slow. Every time one of the little ones tried to speed up and crawl faster, it put more tension on the chains, yanking harder on both of them. And so a team would briefly surge ahead, only to fall back a moment later with both boys screaming their heads off. The boys were absolutely forbidden to stop. The trainers walked or jogged along beside them, delivering incentives with their shock sticks to any pair of boys who looked like they might stop moving forward. All the while the sun blazed down mercilessly upon the anguished naked sweating boys. The crowd cheered and hollered and pelted the young gladiators with pebbles and small stones picked up from the dirt track.
It was, in all, the most painful, cruel, horrible ordeal the boys had yet suffered as a group, but still each team struggled forward, all five of them finishing within a few feet of each other. Danny and Gabe were the winners. Miles and Philippe came in last. This event was particularly unfair to the littlest gladiator. Unlike the chariot race, where the carts were specifically weighted to ensure that each of the pony-boys was pulling roughly the same weight, the sledges were all identical. Small ten-year-old Miles, just barely over four-feet tall, had to pull fourteen-year-old Philippe around the track. It was a testament to the little boy's will and endurance that he managed to finish at all, but last was last, and both boys lost five points for being the final team to cross the line. This left Miles in tears, much to the delight of Mike Brussard who panned in for a close-up as the boy cried. Of all the boys, Miles had had things relatively easy so far, but life on Gladiator Island was harsh and unfair in the most cruel and calculated ways, and things were about to get worse for the ten brave boys who now stood under the hot tropical sun, under the glare of a crowd that was here for the sole purpose of watching them suffer.
Chapter 33:
Gabe and Danny, the winners of the first contest, were taken by their trainers under the shade of the pavilion to prepare them for their special role in the upcoming event. The eight remaining boys were temporarily placed in a holding cage while the mules scurried about setting up the next event. Chris recognized mule 1674 straining hard to keep up with the older, stronger boys. He'd learned from Lance that 1674's steel chastity pod (which all mules were required to wear) would come off only to be exchanged for a slightly larger one as the boy grew. Chris had mixed feelings about the metal cage that normally imprisoned his thirteen-year-old penis. He hated it most of the time, of course, but he'd already discovered that NOT being able to touch himself was really rather arousing. He wondered what it must be like to have your dick locked in one of those pods forever. 1674 glanced over at him for a moment as the trainers closed the gladiators into the cage.As always, there was a sad and distant expression in the boy's soft gray eyes. Chris risked a quick shy wave in the nameless boy's direction, but 1674 went on about his arduous labors with nearly robotic precision.
The holding cage was small, forcing the boys to press their sweaty nude bodies together in the sticky tropical heat. Still free of their various chastity devices, and with cock and ball harnesses inducing powerful boyish erections (for everyone but poor Daniel), it was not long before the boys began rubbing their turgid tools against each other's bodies. David and Philippe both ejaculated in less than a minute. Thankfully, the trainers neither saw nor heard them in the throes of orgasmic ecstasy. Ian and Miles, meanwhile, were crammed in on either side of Chris and were rutting like little animals against the thirteen-year-old's legs.
"Knock it off, you little hornballs. Go hump your own legs," Chris hissed at them, not wanting to get caught, even as he sported a raging and dripping boner of his own, albeit a very sore and tender one. He went so far as to finger the silver plug in his piss-slit, but pulled his hand away immediately and just in time.
Ian and Miles never got a chance to finish pleasuring their pre-teen cocks. The cage was unlocked, and the boys were marched back in a group onto the hippodrome track. Awaiting them were eight wooden benches, twenty feet long and about one foot wide. Along the length of each bench, ten wooden prongs had been screwed in place by the mules, spaced evenly about two feet apart. The prongs increased in size, length, girth, and thickness as they went down the bench. The first one being no bigger than one of the older boy's index fingers, the last ones being enormous bulbous invaders meant to force a boy open wide in the most excruciating manner imaginable.
The boys stared at the wooden benches and the wooden prongs with expressions of dread on their young faces. No explanations were needed as to what was about to happen. They were lined up in front of the benches according to their numbers.
"Attention!" Jason shouted at them. The boys immediately assumed the now well-practiced position. They stood there waiting silently while the noise from the crowd grew louder. A raucous cheer went up when Gabriel and Daniel ran out from under the shade of the pavilion. The two boys were dressed like miniature bondage masters, black latex jockstraps, chest harnesses with silver spikes, black leather boots up to their knees, and black gloves just like the ones the trainers themselves wore. Spiked leather collars completed their outfits. The boys both looked comically and adorably awkward, and obviously very unsure about their ability to carry out their assigned duties. Roger and Calvin handed them both a short flogger. Gabe and Danny were going to be the drivers of this event, whipping any boy who moved too slowly along the benches.
Michella took the microphone and provided a quick overview of the next event to the crowd and the boys.
"We call it the Pole Vault. The rules are simple, boys," she said, addressing them directly. "Each of you will sit down on the first peg. When the whistle blows, you will work your way down to the end of your bench. Your butt must make full contact with the bench to get credit for each peg. If you are penalized for cheating, you will go back to the beginning and start over."
The boys nervously took up their positions in front of the benches. Their wrists were locked behind their backs. One by one, each boy straddled his wooden bench, the first and smallest prong directly beneath him.
"Boys Zero-Five and Zero-Six will be helping to motivate any of you who decide to stop," Michella continued once she had David's wrists secured behind his back. "And, to make things more interesting, we've treated some of the pegs with pepper gel. It's clear, so don't bother looking. You'll know it's there when the peg's up your butt! Each one of you has at least one peg with the gel on it, some of you have four or five. One of you has gel on all ten of them."
The boys all grumbled that it seemed really unfair that things weren't equal.
"Life's not fair, boys, especially for slaves, so get used to it."
Michella blew her whistle, and the boys immediately squatted down over the first peg, which was just three inches long and a little less than one inch wide. A few seconds later, Illya, Ian, Chris, David, and Philippe were all shrieking as the pepper gel set their innards on fire. None of the boys lingered long on the first peg, but the boys who'd just experienced the gel were up and scooting forward for the next one a little more desperately than the others.
The first peg really wasn't so bad, not much bigger than the countless fingers the boys had had shoved into their butts on a daily basis since their arrival on the island. The second peg down the line was the real start of this ordeal. Four inches and noticeably wider than the first, with a fat bulbous end mimicking the male organ. With their arms bound behind them, balance was tricky, and the boys had only the strength in their legs to lower themselves onto the waiting prongs. Miles had a hard time and stood back up with tears in his eyes. His butt was still sore from being fucked by Gabriel two nights earlier. Ironically, it was Gabriel who now ran over to the ten-year-old's bench, straddled it in front of the crying boy, and yelled into his face.
"Move it, sprout! Come on."
"I can't," Miles shouted back. "This is all your fault . . . your willie hurt me real bad . . ."
Gabe swung his flogger over Miles' shoulder, gently, hoping the trainers wouldn't notice it.
"Do it for England then," the twelve-year-old shouted at him.
Miles, at ten, was almost self-righteously patriotic. The only boy among the Gladiators who seemed to have strong feelings about representing not only himself but his country. He looked up at his fellow Englishman and gritted his teeth. He bent his legs and forced himself down on the peg. It hurt and tore at his little hole. It also caused his tiny pricklet to stand straight out, as hard as it had ever been.
"Nice little bone ya got there," Gabriel said. Josh then caught his eye two benches over. He was up to the fourth peg already, and getting up for the fifth, but Gabe noticed that the eleven-year-old's butt never quite touched the bench. "Foul!" he shouted, rather delightedly, pointing to Josh who now stood frozen, squatting halfway over the fifth peg.
Danny, who had become Josh's natural rival, was quickly on the spot, lashing the younger boy's back with all his pent-up rage and humiliation. He had the smallest dick of the boys, except for Miles, and he didn't really count, and now they were giving him drugs to make it even smaller. He'd never have an erection again for the rest of his years on the island. He was ashamed and embarrassed and tired of everyone laughing at him or pointing to his tiny boy-parts and snickering. Seeing eleven-year-old Josh's big oversized dick flopping between his legs was the final straw. He unleashed a barrage on poor Josh's back.
"No cheating, Josh. Get back to the beginning, ay, and start over!" he yelled.
Wanting to avoid further blows, Josh darted up and ran back to the starting end of the bench. He was pissed now too, but it served him right and he knew it. He'd cheated on the last two pegs, not sitting down all the way and hoping he could get away with it. But no boy ever gets away with much on Gladiator Island. Now he was four pegs behind, but he quickly discovered that his butt-hole was so loose and open now that vaulting the first three pegs was easy. His penis was rock hard and bouncing up and down as he hurried to catch up. He was starting to get that tingly feeling again as the prongs rubbed against that special place inside him. So far, he'd lucked out. None of his pegs yet had any of the pepper gel on them. He was actually getting close to having an orgasm when he again returned to the fifth peg. This one was a lot bigger, and he went down on it slowly. The pressure inside him was so amazingly intense now that he couldn't help himself. Remembering the standing order for boy gladiators, he shouted, "I'm cumming!" just as a thin trickle of clear semen dribbled from his eleven-year-old but nearly man-sized penis. He shivered and trembled on the peg as his orgasm swept over him, and a few more weak squirts of clear fluid shot out of his dick.
The trainers hadn't set any rules about cumming during this event, and Josh's orgasm would not cost him points, though it did cost him time. The crowd, of course, was absolutely delighted. A replay of Josh's climax was played in slow motion on the big screen. Josh looked up just in time to see the huge image of himself with his big stupid oversized dick squirting and bouncing. With his ears red from humiliation, he pulled himself off the peg and scooted forward to the next one.
It was slow going. Even with Gabe and Danny providing incentive with their floggers. The eight boys on the benches struggled to make progress. Poor Philippe had reached the fifth peg and was beginning to suspect that his was the bench with pepper gel on each of those evil-looking prongs. All five of them had had it so far. His butt was on fire, and he had lost all of his brave fourteen-year-old composure and was screaming and crying like a little boy as he slowly sat down on the middle peg. His penis was no longer hard, just a sad shriveled teenaged sausage flopping between his straining legs.
"Stop your bawling, Frenchie," Danny shouted at him, lashing him hard with the whip. "You're halfway there. Move it!"
Much to his own surprise, the very sore and very tired Chris was currently in first place. He'd been fucked so many times by Bruce and Lance, and Jason for that matter, that his hole was quite loose. He had no problem taking the wooden prongs up his butt, all of them so far had been smaller than Bruce's gigantic cock.Fortunately, only that very first peg had the gel on it. He was sitting on the sixth peg now and ready for the seventh. His penis was half-hard and dripping. If he could have reached around to stroke it, he would have. Using his muscular thighs, he pulled himself up, scurried forward, and sat down on the seventh prong.
This one was a lot fatter than the last one, and he felt his body resisting for the first time. 'Come on, come on,' he thought to himself as he clenched his eyes and wrinkled his cute little nose. He forced himself down and immediately let out a high-pitched wail. This prong had gel on it, a lot of it. The burning was almost unbearable on the young teen's already well-fucked and ravaged boy-hole. He cursed and shouted and jumped up off the prong like a rabbit. Painful enough to be sure, but not so painful as what happened next.
"Foul! Foul!" It was Gabriel rushing over with his flogger in hand. To Christopher's eyes, the boy looked rather ridiculous in his leather bondage-master outfit.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Chris hissed back at him, poised over the seventh prong.
"You didn't sit down all the way."
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too."
"Look, man, I saw you! And I say who sat down and who didn't. That's my job. You did not sit down." The twelve-year-old was about to deliver a blow to the older boy's back, but the glare he got from Chris made him hesitate. "Well... okay, but you've gotta go back and start over."
"What! No fuckin' way I'm doin' that."
"Zero-Seven!" It was Jason's voice and it was angry. "Zero-Six is doing exactly what he's been told to do. And unless I am mistaken, you are supposed to obey any order you are given on this island. That's five demerits for disobeying him. If you sit there one second longer, I'll give you twenty for disobeying me."
Dejected and angry and muttering under his breath, Chris got up and marched gingerly back to the starting end of the bench, the soles of his beaten feet making each step an unpleasant one. The crowd cheered, happy to see another boy forced to start over. The fact that it was the older brother of the first such victim only added to the wonderful sense of theater and drama. Chris plopped down on the first peg and glared at Gabriel again.
"Happy now?"
"Yes, I am," Gabriel said matter-of-factly, lashing his whip across Chris' thighs and walking away. Gabe wasn't necessarily a cruel kid, but he and Danny had been told to take this job seriously or they would face unpleasant consequences of their own. The twelve-year-old wasn't about to risk it. Twelve-year-old boys are best at looking out for themselves, and Gabriel Shelton was no exception to this general rule.
After several more minutes of boyish screams and shouts echoing out over the crowd, David Brown came to the tenth and final peg, sat down with an anguished wail, raised himself awkwardly off the bench, and stood at the end of it wiping tears from his eyes.
"Victory. Boy One-Zero," the announcer called as Michella untied his hands. David was too humiliated and far too sore to have much enthusiasm for his win. The constant stimulation of his fourteen-year-old prostate had resulted in a constant stream of pre-cum dribbling out of his perpetually frustrated cock. He'd avoided the humiliation of having an orgasm while riding the wooden pegs, but his somewhat smallish penis was still rigid and straining and calling a great deal of attention to itself. The young teen stood there under the glaring afternoon sun, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, shifting his weight gingerly from foot to foot as the discomfort in his stretched and opened boy-hole slowly faded to a dull ache. His cock still throbbed helplessly in front of him. He caught himself moving his hands toward it and stopped just in time. He wanted to jerk off so badly.
The crowd cheered for him, but of course, the event was not over until every boy had reached the end of his bench.
The last boy to finish was Chris. Being forced to start over had drained what little strength he had left. All the other boys were standing at the end of their benches. Chris was still on the sixth peg, unable to get his legs to work for him. The crowd started jeering at him, throwing their plastic cups of beer and wine at him. He bent over and covered his head. Danny and Gabe stood on either side of him, showering his back with lashes, but still the boy didn't move.
Jason Sanborne finally had to step in. Things were getting out of hand, even for Gladiator Island. He blew his whistle and ordered the two adorable junior bondage-masters to stand aside. He knelt beside Chris and heard the boy quietly sobbing.
"Can't finish, can you?"
"N... no, sir... I'm so tired, sir... I just can't do it..."
"Get up. You'll have to be given demerits for this. The other trainers will have a fit if I don't."
"I know," the young teen said glumly. "Can you... you know, help me get off this thing?"
Jason snaked his forearms under the boy's armpits and pulled him up off the wooden prong. Chris came off of it with a wet slurp. The crowd showered the thirteen-year-old loser with boos and cat-calls and demands that he be forcefully sat upon each prong until he reached the end. The majority of the trainers shared the crowd's opinion, and this placed Jason in a difficult position.
"If he doesn't finish, he gets fifty demerits," Roger Bramley demanded.
Jason wanted to argue. That was more than he thought the boy should receive, but the trainers had agreed from day one that any boy's failure to complete any official event was a major transgression and must be dealt with severely.
"Those are the rules, Jason," Hannah Dubose reminded him. "Let the boy decide."
Chris was still straddling the bench, held up by his trainer's arms. "What will it be, Zero-Seven?" Jason asked. "Fifty demerits, or Roger and I will put you down on each prong until we get to the end."
Chris' head was already spinning, and it was hard to think fast. Fifty demerits was a lot. It would almost certainly guarantee that he'd finish last for the week. On the other hand, he really didn't like the alternative he'd just been given. The spectators were growing restless.
"Decide, boy, or we'll do both."
Chris blurted it out quickly. "I'll take the bench, sir."
Jason quickly gestured to Roger. Together the two men picked up the thirteen-year-old boy, grasping him around his waist and locking a firm grip on his thighs to keep his legs spread and his little hole open and defenseless. They went back to the beginning once again and over the next two minutes forced the poor boy down onto each successive prong, giving him only a few seconds to scream and wince until he was roughly pulled up, carried forward, and pushed down onto the next one. The rest of the boys stood with their trainers, watching their fellow gladiator's humiliating ordeal. The crowd was ruthless, laughing and applauding and cheering every time Chris was forced to sit down on one of the pegs. After being lifted off the tenth and final wooden peg, Chris collapsed trembling onto the ground with Jason and Roger standing over him, kicking him gently but insistently.
"Get up!"
Chris dragged himself to his feet. Jason made a show of forcing the boy's half-hard cock into its chastity cage, resulting in painful yelps of protest from the horny and frustrated young teenager, which in turn resulted in several sharp smacks to his perfect teenaged butt. He then attached the chain to the young gladiator's collar and dragged him less than gently out of the venue. "Make it look good," Jason whispered to him. Chris, however, did not need to act as he stumbled along behind his trainer. He was a very happy boy when the noise of the crowd fell away behind him. He didn't know where Jason was taking him, and for the moment, he was only glad to be out of the glare of the lights and cameras and the harsh wicked stares of the adults in the crowd.
Jason took Chris back to the barracks and marched the naked young teen directly to his cell.
"On your bunk. Get some rest. I'll come back for you later. We're running the first marathon tonight. You're going to be at the starting line with the rest of the boys, and you're going to finish, even if it takes you all night."
Chris nodded. He was tired, and his young body ached all over, but he was no quitter. Chris stood at attention and remained perfectly still while his collar and shackles were removed, then, much to the boy's surprise, his chastity device was removed too.
"Boys your age need to have full erections once in a while," he explained. "You can have one while you sleep. You're on your honor, Chris," Jason warned him, holding the separate pieces of the metal cock cage in his hand. "If I found out you've played with yourself, this goes back on and it won't come off for a month."
Chris had already learned that Jason never bluffed. He swallowed hard and promised to be good, even as his long teenaged cock twitched half-way to life. Jason left the cell momentarily and returned with a pair of black gloves. He put them on the boy's obediently outstretched hands.
"These will help you keep your hands where they belong."
Chris examined the gloves and discovered that the palms and undersides of the fingers were covered with tiny sharp metal spikes, even sharper from the looks of them than the ones on his chastity cage. No way he'd be touching himself while he was wearing these things. Jason fondled the boy's balls for a moment, then gently pushed him toward his bunk. Chris lied down on his back and shut his eyes. He heard the door to his cell being closed and locked. His left hand almost instinctively went toward his semi-erect penis, but he quickly pulled it back.It felt good to have everything free down there, even if just for a few hours, but he didn't dare touch it. By now, all the boys knew that there were cameras everywhere, watching them around the clock. Chris didn't know exactly where the camera was in his cell, but he knew it had to be there. He was too tired to really want to jerk off anyway. He stretched his lean frame and was sound asleep a few minutes later.
With the morning events over, the crowd dispersed, and the boys were led away by their trainers to various practice venues. The day's main event, the junior marathon, would begin with the start of the prime-time broadcast that evening. Several of the boys were sent to the training facility to work with the weights and treadmills. Illya and Ian found themselves with their trainers in the round, steeply banked oval of the island's just-completed velodrome, where all the sprint-distance cycling events would take place. David and Josh ended up in the medical suite, where they were scheduled for their next appointment with the milking machine.
As the first boys to use the velodrome, Illya and Ian were introduced to the special bicycles the Boy Gladiators would be required to use. A small crowd of curious spectators were in the stands to watch this first trial run. The two boys stared open-mouthed as their trainers, Sergei and Anthony, rolled two of the bicycles over from the storage rack in the staging area of the oval track. The first thing both boys noticed was that the bikes looked very heavy. The second thing they noticed was that the bikes had long latex dildos in place of seats. The height of the dildo could be adjusted to fit the rider, not necessarily comfortably. The pedals also caught the young slaves' attention. They were made of rubber but covered with small metal studs designed to provide maximum pain to a boy's tender feet without actually cutting into their soft flesh. The bicycles also came with leather restraint attachments on the handlebars so the boys could be properly secured to the wicked two-wheeled vehicles.
Illya and Ian shared a worried glance. Both of them had finished in the middle of the pack in the last event, and both of them had very sore butts from sitting down on those wooden pegs. Now these long black latex dildos would be impaling them as they rode around the track.
The boys had their chains and butt-plugs removed, and they were led by their trainers to the bikes.
"Hop on, boys," Anthony said cheerfully. He took particular delight in his role and made sure young Ian was properly positioned over the dildo. In order to reach the pedals, the boy had to let the latex invader slip inside him. It was very big for an eleven-year-old boy's rear entrance, but gravity did most of the work. Ian shrieked as the dildo wormed its way into his rectum, and he immediately felt his penis go hard, or at least attempt to, within the tight confines of his chastity belt.
Sergei thought it would be fun to give the small, curious crowd of onlookers a nice view of his little brother's not so little penis, so he removed Illya's cock cage before putting the boy onto the bicycle. With the dildo working its way past the thirteen-year-old's prostate, the boy soon sported his full and rather amazing eight-inch boner. His hairless body made his penis seem even larger.
The boys straddled the dildos with their feet still on the ground while their wrists were bound to the handlebars with the leather straps.
"Alright, boys," Anthony shouted at them. "Get your feet on those pedals and start moving. We want you at full speed before the first turn. Sergei and I have decided this is an official race. Loser receives ten demerits. Winner gets his cock sucked by the loser. Ten laps."
Sergei blew his whistle, and the two naked boys were off, moaning and groaning as the dildo snaked deeper into their bodies, applying more and more pressure on their young and already over-stimulated prostates. Ian could actually feel the globs of pre-cum oozing out of his penis as the natural pedaling motion moved him up and down on the dildo. Illya was leaking his clear fluid in an almost constant stream, but that wasn't a terribly unusual state of affairs for him by now.
The track was designed for sprint distances, so ten laps did not take all that long, even with the boys struggling against the impaling latex prongs in their butts and the painful studs on the pedals beneath their feet. It was a close race. Illya was naturally stronger and more powerful, but he was also considerably less graceful on his bike. Ian was simply the better rider, moving through the banked turns with ease. The small crowd cheered him on, and he beat his older partner by the width of his front tire. Illya was visibly pissed about losing to the younger boy, but he'd managed to earn only a handful of demerits thus far, so he wasn't terribly worried about his standings. Ian, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He was currently near the bottom, and although the victory earned him no bonus points, at least the demerits went to someone else. Plus, he was going to get his cock sucked.
The two boys were released from the bicycles, and the assembled spectators were invited to come down onto the track, where they formed a close circle around the boys. Ian and Illya first had to bend over and grab their ankles so their trainers could re-insert their butt-plugs. This done, everyone watched and took digital photos as Sergei put his younger brother's chastity cage back on. Ian giggled at his thirteen-year-old partner's misfortune. Meanwhile, Ian's own pre-teen penis was sticking up in all its hard 3 and a half inch glory, eager for attention and ready for action.
"You know what to do, Zero-Eight," Sergei said. He took particular care never to call his little brother by his name when anyone else might be within earshot. By now, it was no secret the two were related, but Sergei had to maintain a professional distance from his young charge. It really wasn't all that difficult. Sergei had been dominating Illya since they were both very young, and now at seventeen, he was thoroughly enjoying having his thirteen-year-old brother firmly under his boot.
Illya dropped to his knees in front of Ian and took the smaller boy's cock into his mouth. Just like all the boys, Ian was still new to the joys of having his cock sucked, and at eleven-and-a-half, he was also still quite new to cumming. He'd only started having wet orgasms in the last month or so, and it was still a mind-blowing sensation for the young boy. Ian gasped and moaned as Illya moved his lips up and down over his rock-hard penis. Unable to contain himself, he locked his hands around Illya's head and started thrusting his hips in and out. Little high-pitched squeaks issued from his throat as he got closer and closer. It never takes a pre-teen boy long to reach orgasm, and Ian was about to have one.
"Slow down, Zero-Eight," Sergei said, swatting his younger brother's ass with his prod. "Give the crowd a good show. If you let him cum right now, you'll be punished. Suck his balls for a while."
Illya let out a muffled grunt to indicate he understood.
"And don't you cum yet, Zero-Three," Anthony ordered his young charge, smacking the end of the plug in the eleven-year-old's butt.
A very disappointed Ian was left with a very hard and frustrated dick pointing up toward his belly. He cooed joyously, though, when he felt the older boy's warm mouth engulfing his barely ripe young balls. Illya rolled his tongue over the boy's smooth, silken ball sack and sucked firmly on the kid's testicles.
"Oooohh, yeah..." Ian sighed, throwing his head back in delight. He didn't mind not cumming right away if this was his reward for holding back.
Illya performed a minor miracle by managing to keep the incredibly horny eleven-year-old from having an orgasm for nearly fifteen minutes. Finally, Ian just couldn't stand it any longer.
"I'm cumming, mate!" he shouted to his partner, tensing his muscles, thrusting his hips forward, gasping breathlessly and squirting his meager supply of pre-teen boy-juice into Illya's mouth. "Oh, man, that was totally awesome!"
Ian's cock was still hard and glistening with spit and his own clear semen when Illya pulled back. The crowd applauded both boys, snapped more photographs, and were each given an opportunity to stroke young Ian's cock, keeping him nice and hard for another twenty minutes. Illya, meanwhile, was helping the two trainers set up the racks for the bicycles and was then sent out with a broom to sweep the track clean. All the while, his own penis was painfully engorged within the restrictive confines of its metal cage. Of all the boys on the island, it was Illya's misfortune to have, thus far, experienced the fewest orgasms. He was incredibly horny, and the humiliation of having his cock locked away in the cage while he knelt in front of a younger boy and sucked him off had made him only more desperate for his own release. Sergei knew his little brother was about to explode with sexual frustration, but that was his general plan for the care and treatment of his brother.
"You're going to have to let that boy cum sooner or later," Anthony observed. Illya's sadly swollen dick was obvious to anyone who gave his chastity cage a second glance.
"He can put that energy into the competitions," Sergei replied coldly. "That's what he's here for."
Anthony just smiled, no longer surprised at the young man's strict treatment of his little brother. Sergei had made it clear from the moment their relationship was revealed that he wasn't going to go soft on his brother, and so far, he had more than lived up to his promise. Illya was a slave now and nothing more. A valuable one to be sure, but a slave nonetheless. Sergei had no problems at all in treating him like one.In the sterile confines of the medical suite, David and Josh were on their hands and knees atop the milking tables, both sporting throbbing erections from the vibrating plugs lodged in their rectums. This milking would prove to be somewhat different from the first one they experienced, since this time a small audience of VIP guests was on hand to witness their ordeal.
It was bad enough for the boys being up on that table with their hard cocks and swollen balls swinging between their slender legs, but now with an eager crowd of spectators looking on, it was positively humiliating. The cameras were there too, and the boys' latest milking session would be broadcast on tape delay later that night.
Among the small gathering of visitors was a well-dressed woman with her two young pre-teen sons. The little boys were dressed for the tropics, wearing thin white khaki shorts and loose-fitting cotton shirts. They were both nicely tanned all the way down to their toes. Both of them were in flip-flops at the moment, and their hair was still wet from the beach. Behind them, his head bowed submissively, was their fourteen-year-old houseboy. He was stark naked except for a thick heavy iron collar around his neck. His ankles were shackled and chained. His hairless genitals, average size for his age, were locked into a tight leather harness which forced them to stand out provocatively from his body. The boy's penis was soft, the end of his foreskin pierced with a large golden padlock. The younger of the two boys, barely eight years old, was playfully fondling the slave boy's ripe teenaged balls. The older boy, however, was utterly fascinated by the proceedings just beginning on the milking tables. He was staring at the dangling balls of the two naked boys, particularly on David's larger and low-hanging set. The front of his shorts was visibly tented, his little pricklet stiff and straight as a nail.
"That one has big balls, mother," he giggled excitedly. All of the adults smiled at him indulgently.
"He's welcome to inspect the boys more closely, Ms. Symington," Allison Trench said as she finished sliding Josh's half-hard penis into the milking tube. "By the looks of him, your slave boy is reaching the age where he'll require regular milkings. Your sons should know how it's done. Proper care and control of a slave boy's sexual organs is a skill every young master or mistress should learn."
"Oh, that would be lovely, doctor. Thank you."
Trench smiled. "Step closer..."
"Sean," the young boy replied.
"Step closer, Sean. We'll let the machine take care of Zero-Two here, but we'll milk One-Zero by hand today. Would you like to help me?"
"Oh, yes, please, doctor," the ten-year-old replied enthusiastically. He'd played with his slave's boy-parts before and even made the boy shoot his white stuff a few times, but this was going to be a special treat.
Doctor Trench helped the boy into position beside the milking table. "Just reach between his legs and wrap your hand around his penis."
Sean did as instructed. "His thingy is a lot bigger than Cameron's," he observed, craning his neck back to the family's houseboy. The Symington's had owned Cameron since he was ten, thus Sean had known him for nearly half of his life.
"Well, dear, his penis is hard right now. Cameron's isn't. Is Cameron allowed to have erections?"
The boy shot her a puzzled look. Trench smiled and rephrased the question. "Do you let Cameron have boners once in a while?"
"He's not supposed to, ma'am," Sean replied respectfully, adjusting his own rigid little boy-pole with his free hand, "but he does whenever me or Ryan play with it." Sean wasn't particularly shy about admitting that he played with Cameron's boy-parts, or that he often had Cameron play with his. "It's okay, right. I mean that's what Cameron is for, right?" he asked shyly, suddenly worried that maybe he was doing something wrong.
"Cameron is there for whatever you want him for, dear," his mother interjected. Trench nodded her approval.
"Have your little brother get Cameron's penis nice and hard and we'll see how much bigger it gets."
Eight-year-old Ryan was happy to oblige, quickly and rather roughly stroking the older boy's penis to a firm five-inch erection.
"Well, I see One-Zero is a bit bigger than your boy. But it doesn't really matter."
All this time, Sean's hand was firmly wrapped around David's penis, slowly stroking it up and down. David was totally humiliated, having a younger boy handling him like a piece of meat.
"That's good, Sean," Trench praised the eager little lad. "Keep rubbing it up and down like that, very slowly." Karin meanwhile had helped snap a latex glove on Sean's other hand. Doctor Trench herself removed the vibrating plug in David's butt. "Put two of your fingers up there, sweetie," she instructed the little boy.
Sean wrinkled his nose and stared at her. "In his poop hole? I don't think so! That's gross."
"It has to be done, dear. That's why we put the glove on you. Just stick them right in there. Go ahead."
Sean looked back at his mother, who nodded that he should obey. His little brother was wearing that famous 'I dare you' expression on his cute round freckled face.
"Well, okay," the ten-year-old replied. "Here goes." He stuck his middle and index fingers into David's loose and waiting rectum. David moaned aloud as the two short digits entered him and immediately found his prostate.
"Do you feel a little bump in there?" the doctor asked Sean.
Sean rolled his fingers around inside David's butt, causing the older boy to moan even louder and a large glob of pre-cum to dribble from the end of his dick.
"Yes, ma'am."
"That's called his prostate. All males have one. You have one. Ryan has one. Cameron has one. When something touches it, it makes boys feel very, very funny inside."
"Funny good, or funny bad?" Sean asked.
"Good at first. But if you keep doing it to him, it won't feel so nice after a while. He needs to shoot his sperm, but we're not going to let him. We're going to get it out of him a little bit at a time. You should start doing this with Cameron. He should not be allowed to shoot his boy-juice anymore."
"Okay, ma'am. What now?"
"Keep pushing on his little button and give his penis a single stroke every few seconds. Remember you don't want him to have an orgasm."
"That's when he shoots out his stuff, right?"
"Right. You're a smart boy, Sean. Keep going."
For the next half hour, the crowd watched in delight as young Sean methodically milked David dry. David was a sobbing, teary-eyed wreck when he finally achieved what amounted to a dry orgasm. On the table next to him, the machine was still taking its time with Josh, who had managed the second meager ejaculation of his young life early on but had been experiencing agonizing dry cums ever since. The entire scene had of course been filmed and would be airing later that evening as a teaser before the live broadcast of the main primetime event, the marathon.
The Symingtons left the medical suite. There was just enough time for the boys to get a bath before dinner.
"Come on, Cameron," Sean said, attaching a leash to the older boy's collar and dragging him along behind. "I want to try that on you as soon as we get back to the room," he gestured back to David who was still sniffling on the table. "I'm not going to let you shoot your stuff ever again."
Cameron looked particularly terrified at that prospect.
Chapter 34:
It was a warm evening in the suburbs of Johannesburg. A strong dry breeze was blowing through the large windows in the Nguni family dining room. Young Samuel sat at the table with his parents and younger sister, talking of school and work and local neighborhood happenings. It was a perfectly normal family gathering one might find in any home, with the exception of the naked white slave boy standing quietly behind Sam's chair.
Pieter had his head bowed, as was required when he was serving in the dining room. He was wearing a rather nasty leather gag at the moment, special punishment for sneaking a piece of fruit from the sideboard two weeks earlier. He had an erection, which lately seemed to be happening a lot more often, but the belt kept his little three-inch prick from making too lewd a display. Traditionally, for the most part, the family simply ignored Pieter's erections, but now that he was entering puberty and his penis was starting to grow, this was becoming harder and harder to do.
"We really should put that boy in a proper chastity belt," Samuel's mother said as Pieter refilled her iced-tea.
"Or have him fixed," Mr. Nguni suggested. "It's a free service. I could take him to the processing center any time and have it done."
Pieter, though totally uneducated, knew exactly what 'fixing' a white boy meant in South Africa and he quickly gave Samuel a desperate pleading look. The two boys were master and slave, but, having grown up together, they were also friends. For the most part, Samuel always looked out for him. Pieter's life was far better than most boys in his position.
"Piet is my slave," Samuel interjected strongly. "It's my decision." His mother stared at him in shock. Samuel was normally a quiet boy. "It is my decision, isn't it, dad?" Sam asked his father in a more respectful tone.
"Absolutely. Piet is your responsibility. But you really need to get his erections under control." Mr. Nguni made a disdainful gesture toward Pieter's errant penis. "Erections at the dinner table, and in front of your little sister. Intolerable."
"We'll find him a good chastity belt then," Samuel said thoughtfully. "How 'bout the kind they make the boys wear on Gladiators."
The whole family liked this idea, and the clever mention of Worldwide Boy Gladiators was Sam's way of asking permission to stay up late to watch the live broadcast of the marathon.His mother, of course, was dead set against it, but his father, as always, proved considerably more lenient.
"It's the weekend, dear," he said to his wife. "Shaka doesn't have school tomorrow. If the boy wants to watch his show, that's fine." He turned his dark, thoughtful eyes to his only son. "As long as you are in bed the moment it is over, young man."
Samuel smiled widely and gave Pieter a surreptitious wink.
"You know," the boy continued, feeling emboldened by his two victories at the dinner table tonight, "I bet I'm stronger than most of those boys on the show. I bet I could beat them. What do you think, dad?"
"Well, they're all great athletes, Shaka, but then so are you. I'm sure you'd do well."
"I'd totally kick their white butts. Heck, I bet Piet could too."
Mom and dad chuckled, little sister giggled and stared at Pieter's hard penis with curious eyes. She wanted to touch it and see what it felt like, but Pieter was Sammy's slave and she was embarrassed to ask him if she could.
"I think Piet and I would make awesome gladiators," Sam continued.
Mr. Nguni gazed at his son for a moment. "You should check their website, Shaka. They're already recruiting new boys, for when the oldest ones leave. You could enter Pieter."
Sam's deep brown eyes blazed with excitement for a moment, then softened. "Nah. They don't take boys who are already slaves. They'd take me though."
"Oh, don't you dare, young man," his mother said, wagging her finger at him in disapproval. "I won't have any son of mine running around naked on some disease-infested island in the Caribbean. You see why I don't like that show," she turned to her husband. "Puts crazy ideas in that boy's head."
"Your mother is right, Shaka," Sam's father said sternly. "You need to focus on school."
"But they pay a lot of money, dad," Sam argued. "Roger and Desmond told me they're going to pay the next round of boys like, well, five times as much as the first group got."
"We do not need money," his mother replied, somewhat defensively. "Certainly not from XB-1."
That was where the conversation ended, but, back in his room, while Pieter was tidying up, Shaka sat at his computer and pulled up the official Gladiators website. The schedule of events for the coming week was posted, as well as the latest standings, video feeds of recent competitions, short interviews with the boy gladiators themselves, bios and all kinds of other cool information. At the very bottom of the page there was a flashing banner with a rotating WBG logo.
'DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES?'
Sammy clicked it.
'Calling all boys aged eight to twelve. Are you a good athlete? Do you get good grades in school? Think you're tougher and stronger and smarter and faster than the boys on Gladiator Island? Want to prove it? XB-1 needs you. We're recruiting now for a new crop of Boy Gladiators. If you think you've got what it takes, get your parents' permission and reply with your email to the address below. Send us a short message telling us why we should consider you for Worldwide Boy Gladiators. There are only ten Boy Gladiators in the whole world. You could be one of them. Why wait. Apply today.'
Sam stared at the screen. It couldn't really be that easy, could it?
It was three o'clock on Gladiator Island. The boys were quickly fed an early dinner back in their barracks. Fresh fruit, a cup of plain yogurt and a full glass of the corporation's custom-blended energy drink, which the boys now knew as 'Gladiator Punch'. The menu was formulated by Doctor Trench to give them an extra burst of energy and stamina for the marathon. The Gladiator Punch had become a regular part of the boys' diet by this time, and while it had a rather strong medicinal taste, it certainly lived up to its promise. Knowing the ordeal that awaited them, the ten young slaves gulped it down in a hurry. Several of them wanted seconds.
"Sorry, boys," the matron told them with a smirk, "one serving per customer."
Mild protests followed, but the boys knew better than to get too vocal when the matron and her guards were close by. Their quick meal finished and cleared up, the boys were taken outside into the exercise yard and told to stretch their limbs for the coming race. They were unusually quiet as they loosened up their already aching arms and legs. Since their first day of training, all of the boys had spent at least an hour each day running the dirt and sand paths that crisscrossed the island in preparation for this event. Sometimes they were chained to their partners, sometimes they ran on their own. Sometimes their arms were bound behind them, sometimes their ankles were chained. They always ran barefoot, but fortunately the paths had been for the most part leveled and cleared. An occasional pebble or small stone were the only real obstacles the boys faced. Still, the hard-packed sand and dirt was always hot and unforgiving beneath their feet.
After a few minutes of warm-up time, the boys were marched out of the barracks together, heads down, chained in a single file as always. Their trainers escorted them on either side, using their prods to keep the little chain-gang moving at a sharp pace. They were headed to the main arena where the event would start and finish. Already the boys could hear the noise of the crowd, and as they entered the building, the sounds grew louder. Secured in the holding room, the boys' chains were removed and their chastity devices were replaced with the leather pouches that they had now become accustomed to competing in. The thickness of the leather still prevented any of them from playing with themselves, but the pouches allowed the boys (most of them anyway) to sport nice full erections that would give the crowd a cheap thrill. All of the boys remained plugged, but by now they had all grown accustomed to competing with the thick latex butt-plugs lodged securely in their rectums.
Before being marched up to the arena floor, each boy stood at attention while a large backpack was put around his shoulders and strapped in place with a special chest harness. The backpacks were colored individually for each boy, and they quickly realized that the packs were very heavy. Lead weights had been placed inside the packs before they'd been sealed. The boys would all be running the marathon with one-third of their own body-weight strapped to their backs.
From the arena above, the young gladiators could hear the show's theme music blaring over the loudspeakers. The trainers quickly double-checked the backpacks then gave their boys a sharp jab with the prods.
"Showtime, boys!" Jason shouted.
"Sir, yes, sir!" the boys all yelled back in unison, followed by loud boyish howls of enthusiastic aggression. Still fresh and full of energy, and not yet bothered by the weights strapped to their backs, they charged up the ramp and out onto the harshly lit floor of the arena.
An excited cheer went up from the crowd. The boys waved and pumped their fists and did their best to look tough for the cameras. They playfully jostled and pushed each other as they ran an opening lap around the edge of the arena.
On the overhead scoreboard, each boy's statistics and his current score were displayed. The various giant viewscreens which hung from the roof were running replays of recent events on a continual feed. Once the race started, each screen would be showing a live feed from a different section of the island's cross-country track. As the boys' stats were flashed up, the crowd reacted with cheers or hisses of various intensity. Already some of the boys were becoming beloved or sympathetic crowd favorites, while others were seen as potential villains. Cuddly little Miles was showered with adoration. Josh and Chris, both well-liked and early favorites in the ratings, were given appropriate applause. Danny and Gabriel, who appeared to be the strongest overall team at the moment, were also perceived as being somewhat dirty players and were booed accordingly, much to their great delight.
"I think they hate us, Gabe," Danny observed as he worked up a dramatic snarl for the cameras.
"Yeah. Looks like we're the bad guys, Dan."
"Cool!"
At the sound of Jason's whistle, the ten boys positioned themselves at the start-finish line. Their trainers stood in front of them, giving them their final instructions. Alex Wright gripped Miles' firmly by the shoulders.
"No one expects you to win, Zero-One. Except me."
The ten-year-old flashed a cocky smile. Running was his specialty. He'd actually finished several full-length marathons. This one was junior-length, exactly eighteen miles. He liked the distance and he'd memorized every twist and turn, rise and fall of the island-wide course. He was confident and excited.
"I'll do my best, sir," the littlest gladiator said, his dark eyes flashing.
"Time to show these guys what you're made of."
Miles pointed to the tunnel that led out of the arena and onto the island. Currently it was closed with a set of heavy iron bars. When the bars were raised, the event would officially begin.
"I'm gonna be the first one out of here, and the first one back, sir."
Alex liked the little ten-year-old's courage. "Just remember, you're not the only one who's a good runner. Pace yourself, just like we practiced."
"Okay, okay. Let's go. I'm ready."
Alex patted his boy on the rump and stepped away. All the trainers had now left their boys alone on the starting line. The crowd had fallen silent in anticipation. As the ten boys cast their eyes from one to another, William Durand slowly stood up from his luxury box. Young Trevor was beside him, chained to his owner's chair and dressed appropriately in dark red running shorts. He held the starting flag aloft and waited for the command.The live broadcast was currently in a commercial break.
Sixty seconds later, Mike Brussard got the word from the production booth and waved his hand in Durand's direction. Trevor dropped the flag with an enthusiastic flourish. At that same moment, a loud klaxon sounded in the arena, and the iron grate rose swiftly, opening the tunnel. As promised, Miles was off like a shot, leaving the older boys behind and momentarily bewildered. Soon, they were all running full-speed toward the tunnel, as flashbulbs went off all around them. Chris was the last boy out, running as best he could on his bruised feet. He was trying not to think about the distance.
'Just keep running,' he thought to himself. The boy knew that all sorts of strange and unexpected things tended to happen on Gladiator Island. He knew he had no chance of winning this race, but if he could manage to finish, he might just possibly not finish last.
With all the boys out of the arena and headed out onto the marathon course, the majority of the spectators filed out as well, heading toward the many viewing areas along the winding course that had been specially set up for this event. A significant number, however, still remained in the stands, preferring to watch the race on the multiple high-definition screens overhead.
The trainers had a quick meeting on the arena floor, getting their instructions from Jason and Roger. "Alex, Anthony, Sergei and Natasha," Roger said, "we'll want you on the four-by-fours patrolling the course. If you see a boy lagging behind, give him a good shock with your prod, but if it looks like any of them are really in trouble, call medical immediately. We're particularly worried about Zero-Seven. Keep a close eye on him."
"Michella, Hannah, Calvin and Elaina," Jason added, "we've got you at the water stations along the course. Make sure all the boys take water when they pass you. No boy is allowed to refuse." Elaina was Philippe's sadistic boy-hating trainer, the youngest of the females, close in age to Sergei. "Roger and I are going up in the helicopter with Mike to get overhead shots and keep an eye on things. We've activated the nanochips we installed in the boys' scrotums a few weeks back."
The trainers all looked shocked, and the more evil of them looked pleased. They all remembered the absolute terror on the faces of ten young boys as the virtually invisible chips were injected into their dangling hairless ball sacks, and they had all privately wondered when they might come into play.
"No, we're not using the behavioral modification settings. None of your boys are having their balls shocked. Although we will leave that option open to you if your boy seems to be dogging it. But the chips do have transmitters so we can track their whereabouts on the island. We'll be able to tell you where each boy is minute by minute. Now let's get out there before the little slaves get too far along."
The trainers departed to their assigned tasks, with Jason and Roger meeting Mike Brussard on the way out.
"Great day for a race, guys," the network's award-winning director said with a smile. "I've got camera teams stationed just about everywhere. This is going to be one hell of a broadcast."
The race was off to a good start. After sprinting out of the arena, Miles slowed his pace significantly. He was only ten years old, the youngest and smallest of the boy gladiators, but he was the most experienced runner. He wasn't worried when David, Illya and Philippe with their long slim legs all passed him in a single group.
"You guys are running too fast," he yelled to them. "Slow down or you'll never finish!"
But teenaged boys generally don't listen to ten-year-olds. Miles just smirked and kept running. His only worry was the heavy pack strapped to his back. He didn't know how that was going to affect him as the race went on, but he figured all the other boys would be having similar problems, so everything should balance out. He was also bothered by the plug in his butt. He hated running with that thing inside him. His little penis was rock hard at the moment, jutting straight out against the leather pouch. He reached down and adjusted it into a more comfortable position, not once breaking his steady stride. At ten, Miles hadn't really developed any particular interest in his penis. He really didn't think too much about it all, when it came right down to it. It was just there between his legs. Sometimes it got hard, sometimes it didn't. Until his arrival on Gladiator Island, he'd never even experienced a dry orgasm, and even though he liked having that funny special feeling and wouldn't have minded having it more often, he wasn't suffering from its denial the way the other boys seemed to be. He was the only boy who was not frantically and desperately frustrated by the strict chastity regime imposed on the boy gladiators. There were times, Miles realized, when it was good to be little.
With his little erection now bobbing at a more comfortable angle, Miles returned his full attention to the course. He'd memorized the whole thing from start to finish and knew there was a rough section coming up with lots of twists and turns and hills. He slowed down a bit and took several deep breaths, even as Josh, Ian and Danny passed him in quick succession.
'That's six of 'em,' he thought to himself.
Looking briefly over his shoulder, he saw Alexei and Gabriel running side-by-side about twenty paces back. Miles figured right from the start that Gabe, his fellow Englishman, was going to be his toughest competition. He was a football player and used to covering long distances at speed, without a break, for hours at a time. Gabe was also very smart and seemed to have adopted Miles' own strategy of hanging back and letting the older, bolder and at least in this case stupider boys run themselves to exhaustion before the half-way point.
Gabriel looked ahead and saw Miles now jogging backwards, staring straight at him. He gave the youngest gladiator a smug little smirk. The two boys seemed to read each other's minds in that moment.
Miles decided he didn't want Gabriel getting ahead of him, so he chose to expend a little energy and sprinted off at top speed. Gabriel saw the little boy take off and picked up his own pace, leaving Alexei behind.
"See you at back at the arena, slowpoke," the twelve-and-a-half-year-old called with mock sweetness in his young pubescent voice.
Alexei wanted to snap off an appropriately insulting comeback, but his command of English was not all that good, and he was already getting winded. Looking over his own shoulder, he wondered where Chris was.
Far behind was the answer. Chris had managed to keep up with the pack for the first mile or so, but then they started to leave him behind as he limped along on his sore and bruised feet. When Chris finally came to the first set of hills, all of the other boys were already out of sight.
"Dammit!" he said aloud as he struggled up the gentle grassy slope. He was already feeling the strain from the weights in his backpack. He was heading for disaster and he knew it. Tears started to form in his eyes. "I can't finish last! I can't!"
Back in the arena, William Durand remained in his luxury box, watching the action on the screens above. He was entertaining a wealthy visitor and potential investor in the show, pointing out all the care and planning that had gone into ensuring Worldwide Boy Gladiators remained a viable long-term success. The investor, a young man with money to burn, had brought his own slave boy with him, and now the lad stood submissively alongside Trevor behind their masters' chairs. Both boys were nude and collared. Trevor, whose silky skimpy running shorts had been dropped immediately after the starting flag, looked over shyly at the newcomer. The other boy appeared to be about his own age and had the same slim, small build. Trevor noticed that the boy's genitals were the same size as his own, and that the boy's penis was pierced with a thick steel ring which kept the tiny useless organ in an obedient downward curve.
"I'm Trevor," the fourteen-year-old said softly. He knew his master was too preoccupied to be paying any attention, but he still kept his voice low and quiet.
"Kyle," the other boy said in a voice that sounded more like it belonged to a ten-year-old than a young teenager. He had dark hair and brown eyes and bronzed skin indicating that a great deal of his life was spent outdoors. On the left side of the boy's chest, a ten-digit slave number had been permanently tattooed in dark ink.
The two boys talked quietly for several minutes. Trevor found out Kyle was in fact fifteen years old, although his body resembled that of a much younger boy. They discovered they were both receiving regular testroxil treatments. It was the first time Trevor had met another boy like himself.
"It really sucks not being able to get hard anymore," Kyle lamented softly to his newfound and sympathetic comrade.
"Yeah," Trevor replied, though in truth he could likely count on one hand the number of erections he'd had since he became William Durand's slaveboy at the age of ten. He'd been locked in a chastity belt that very first night, and when that finally came off for good at age eleven, the testroxil had already taken its intended effect. He really didn't miss erections all that much because he could barely remember ever having one. "How long has your master kept you like that?" the young teen asked, pointing to the other boy's tiny genitals.
"Since I was twelve," Kyle whispered softly, unable to hide the shame in his eyes. "I had a real big dick when it started, now it's like what, an inch long?"
The two boys moved a bit closer and compared their pathetic little penises.To his surprise, Trevor's was actually a little bit bigger, not that it mattered a whole lot. His was every bit as dormant and useless as Kyle's.
"I trust you two are having a nice conversation?" It was Durand's voice that interrupted them, sending both boys snapping to attention with wide fearful eyes. "I say we gag them both for the rest of the day, Tom, how about you?"
Durand's young but wealthy guest nodded his head in agreement. "Sounds like an excellent plan."
"This evening they both can provide us with some entertainment," Durand said, staring at his fourteen-year-old slave with malice.
"I've always loved your hospitality," Tom replied. "Ever since I was a kid. My dad always told me there's always something interesting happening around Bill Durand. Stay close to him and maybe some of his good fortune will rub off on you."
"Has it?"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
It was well past midnight in Johannesburg, but young Sammy 'Shaka' Nguni was wide awake. He was sitting naked on his bed, his firm legs spread wide, idly stroking his thick five-inch long erection as he watched the race unfold. His hairless light brown skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. The boy let go of his erection and jiggled his low-hanging balls, quite large for a boy not yet twelve. "I think Zero-Six is going to win, Pieter. What do you think?"
Pieter, equally naked, stood beside his young master's bed, his own much smaller erection held firmly against his groin by the humiliating belt. At least he could still get hard. All that talk at dinner of putting him into a real chastity belt had made him a very unhappy twelve-year-old. He gazed at the liquid plasma television, no thicker than a credit chip, and checked the current times and standings. "I say Zero-One, Shaka."
Privately, the two boys were on a first-name basis. Out in public, things were different, but Samuel and Pieter had grown up together, and they were friends in spite of the ever-present complexity of also being master and slave.
"Zero-One! That little squirt!" Sam laughed, giving his erection several more absent-minded tugs. "Why do you say that? He's almost last already."
"He's the only one who's a real runner."
"Well, I guess you got a point about that."
Pieter nodded vehemently. "Sure do."
"Okay, smart-ass, I'll bet you a blow job Zero-Six finishes first."
Pieter's eyes got wide. He'd been sucking Samuel's cock for him since they were both ten, but Sam had never, ever, even once shown any interest in sucking his. 'Masters don't do that kind of thing, Piet,' he'd said. 'That's what slaves do.'
"For real?" the twelve-year-old slave asked. His three-inch boner twitched madly despite being constrained by the belt.
"For real. I'll suck your little white dick if Zero-One wins the race."
"You're on."
The two boys shook on it and Pieter was given the rare privilege of joining Samuel on his bed. Sam's penis remained half hard, as did Piet's. The two pre-teens were incredibly horny and eager for the end of the race, but that was still at least an hour away.
It came as no surprise to anyone that three of the boys with the longest legs were the first ones to reach the first water station. Hannah and Michella shouted out the boys' times as they handed them small paper cups for drinking on the run. Michella was less than proud to see David in the lead.
"Slow down, you stupid idiot," she yelled at him. "You'll run yourself right out of the race. If you don't finish, you'll wish you'd never been born."
Fourteen-year-old David had already spent enough time alone with his boy-hating feminist trainer to know she wasn't kidding. But at the moment, all his adrenaline-addled brain could think about was that he was in first place and feeling really strong. His legs didn't hurt at all, and that little burn he was starting to feel in his lungs didn't mean all that much to him.
Michella was still shouting at him when he disappeared down the slope, with Illya and Philippe close on his heels. "Boys are so stupid," she said to Hannah. "He's a swimmer. He's not used to long distances like this, and the little dumb-ass is running like it's a sprint. He'll be dead on his feet in another five miles."
Hannah just smirked. She was proud to see that Josh wasn't in the lead group. She'd drilled it into the eleven-year-old's head that keeping a steady pace was the key to a good finish. She didn't expect Josh to win, less than two days removed from his ordeal in the black room, but she certainly expected him to cross the finish line. She'd given him orders to finish in the top five.
Josh had stared up at her with dread in his young brown eyes, wondering what horrible punishment awaited him if he failed to live up to his trainer's expectations.
Less than a minute later, Josh and Danny passed the first water station and took their little paper cups with obvious relief.
"You're right on target, Josh," Hannah said to him, one of the rare times she'd actually called him by his name. "Keep those little legs moving!"
"Yes, ma'am!" Josh called as he tossed his crumpled cup onto the grass and hurried on down the gentle hill. Danny was running right beside him. The two boys, who had become good friends despite their fierce rivalry in competition, had decided to run the race together for as long as they could. Danny's legs were probably a little bit stronger, but Josh was definitely faster, and both boys knew that their alliance was just a temporary strategy.
"Hate t' tell ya, Danny . . . but I'm gonna win this thing, ay," Josh said between gaping breaths, playfully mocking the young Canadian's trademark dialectic.
"You haven't beaten me at anything yet, Josh!"
With that, Daniel raced forward just a bit, to show off the strength of his muscular young legs. An equally determined Josh lowered his head and sprinted after him, only slowing down when he was several paces ahead of the older boy.
Back in the United States, Matt and Lindsay Andrews were hosting the first of many neighborhood 'Gladiator' parties. Taking advantage of their young sons' newfound celebrity status that had suddenly made them the talk of the town. Since the premier broadcast last week, the couple were being recognized everywhere they went as the 'Gladiator parents'. A small minority of citizens may have privately thought it abhorrent for parents to allow their handsome and for the most part well-behaved sons to be indentured and taken away as slaves. Most people, though, found it a perfectly sensible and certainly lucrative thing to do, and more than a few families were already trying to find ways to get one or more of their boys into a similarly wealth-making arrangement. There were sure to be copy-cat shows on other networks, and word had already gone out that XB-1 itself had started recruiting a new batch of boy gladiators to replace the older ones as they wore out.
The Andrews and several of their closest friends were gathered around the newly purchased wide-screen liquid plasma television to watch the marathon. Matthew eagerly boasted about Josh's athletic prowess every time the little eleven-year-old was on the screen.
"Look at that strong little body," he said proudly as his nearly naked son filled the screen. "He's a star."
"Didn't he finish tenth last week?" one of Lindsay's co-workers reminded everyone.
Matthew didn't have an answer for that, and of course he didn't say much at all about poor Chris, who was currently shown to be dead last and had been in that position since the starting whistle.
Chapter 35:
Chris was the last boy to reach the first water station.
"How . . . how far behind am I . . . ma'am?" he asked as he slowed down to take his water from Hannah.
"Zero-Four went by here about two minutes ago," she told him without sympathy.
"Two minutes!" Chris ran his hands through his sweaty hair in panic. "Oh, shit, I've got to get moving."
But the boy's aching feet could only carry him so far and so fast, and he was already starting to fear that just finishing wasn't going to be enough to avoid being last. Panicking, Chris made his biggest mistake, running off as hard and as fast as he could, putting even more strain on his tired body and causing even more pain for his already bruised and tender feet.
"He's finished," Hannah observed after Chris had disappeared from view.
"Definitely. If he makes two more miles, I'd be surprised."
With all the boys having passed their post, the two women left the clean-up to the mules and mounted a four-wheeler to drive along the course. They each wanted to monitor their young charges' progress. They passed Chris a few seconds later. The thirteen-year-old had quickly given up his earlier pace and was limping along awkwardly on his battered soles. He wore a distraught look on his innocent young face and wiped tears from his eyes as he struggled to take another agonizing step.
Neither Hannah nor Michella could ever be called sympathetic when it came to their attitude toward the boy gladiators, but they also understood their sworn duty to keep the boys generally safe and free from lasting harm. Hannah made a quick call to Jason in the helicopter high overhead.
"I'm afraid your boy is about done, Jason," she informed him with a certain amount of wicked pleasure. "Better keep a close track on him."
Jason was, of course, disappointed, but not exactly surprised. It was a miracle the boy had gotten as far as he had. "Give him some space. Let him run himself out," he ordered, figuring Chris at least deserved the dignity of quitting on his own terms.
Hannah and Michella drove on ahead, leaving Chris in a cloud of dust to trudge along on his own. He'd actually covered seven hard miles on his bruised and aching feet, but now each new step was sending sharp waves of pain through his young legs.To make matters worse, the weight in the backpack seemed like it was getting heavier and heavier all the time. Looking up at the winding dirt course ahead of him, the boy spied a small grove of palm trees off to the right.
"Maybe if I rest for a bit I can still finish," he said to himself. He wanted to rest. More than anything. He reached the trees and stumbled to his knees, crawling the last few feet under their meager shade. The boy collapsed onto his side, his back against the tree. He didn't even have the strength to sit up, and with the heavily weighted backpack secured around his chest there was probably no chance he'd be able to stand up again under his own power. He gazed up at the leafy palms swaying in the warm breeze. Right now, back home, he figured the air was probably starting to get cooler. He'd be back in school at this point, or messing around with his friends or finding some new way to torment his little brother. He really had no concept of time anymore, but his memories of his former life as a free boy were still very strong. Holding on to them was getting harder though. The thirteen-year-old boy was starting to think like a slave. He was used to being collared and chained. He was used to having his penis locked up in a chastity cage all the time and walking around with a plug in his butt. He was used to being given orders and following them without question, he was even getting used to the harsh punishments he and his fellow boy gladiators received for even the slightest lapse in discipline or failure. More and more his mind focused on these things, on his training, on the increasingly painful, humiliating and outrageous events he was forced to participate in, on just getting through each day without earning too many demerits.
He knew he'd be getting a ton of them for finishing this race dead last, or worse not finishing at all. He'd be the one spinning the punishment wheel Sunday morning. He was already sure of that, so what was the point in totally killing himself. He lay there, his eyes half closed, his left hand wandering aimlessly over the soft leather pouch that held his boyhood in a tight but not uncomfortable embrace. Better than the cock cage, that was for sure. The young teenager rubbed his penis through the supple leather, feeling it slowly harden. He knew he was breaking one of the biggest rules on the island, but it felt so good and he hadn't touched himself there in so long. He masturbated himself in this way for a few minutes, stopping only when he heard the sound of a four-wheeler approaching. He was filled with a momentary panic.
'Oh, god! If they find me lying here with a boner in my pouch I'm screwed!'
He tried to scramble over to the other side of the tree, hoping he might hide from the trainers as they passed by. Chris of course was unaware that the nanochip they'd implanted in his ball sack a few weeks earlier allowed them to track his whereabouts on the island within a matter of inches.
Chris curled up behind the tree, his cock still rock hard and tenting against the leather pouch. He heard the four-wheeler stop, then the sound of a trainer's boots on the hard-packed dirt trail.
"Come on out, Zero-Seven. It's no use hiding."
Chris recognized the soft voice of Alex Wright, Miles' trainer, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Alex was by far the gentlest and kindliest of the trainers. All of the boys had started to confide in him their fears and anxieties, their likes and dislikes, and Alex, for his part was good enough to keep most things to himself. He was still stern and strict like all the rest, but he did not seem to take quite as much pure pleasure in tormenting the boys as his fellow trainers did. Chris decided it was best to just give himself up, erection and all, and so he crawled out miserably from behind the tree.
"We were worried about you when you stopped," Alex explained. "Stand up and come over here."
Chris tried to follow orders, but his lean young teenaged body was simply too exhausted from the endless parade of ordeals he'd been forced to endure over the last four days.
"Sir, I . . . I can't get up, sir . . ." he said, looking up at the trainer in shame.
Wright walked toward him, his electric prod held loosely in one hand.
"Please, sir," Chris begged, crawling backward like a trapped and wounded animal. "Don't shock me!" He tried again to get to his feet, and managed to at least right himself and get onto his knees. He stared at the trainer in terror. Fear of course made the boy's turgid erection that much stronger. It was outlined perfectly by the leather pouch. There was no hiding it. His only hope was that Wright hadn't actually seen him playing with it. He'd be punished for having an erection either way, but having one by accident or by nature was not met with nearly the repercussions of having one because you were fiddling with yourself.
Alex of course noticed the boy's erection, but he also noticed the complete hopeless exhaustion and mortal fear in the youngster's blue eyes.
"I'm not going to use this," he said, returning the prod to a loop on his belt. "And we'll just pretend your penis isn't hard at the moment. Deal."
Chris wiped his nose with the back of his hand and managed a shy grateful smile. Alex stepped closer, produced a key to the weighted backpack and carefully removed it. "Now can you get up?"
"I think so, sir," Chris replied. Wincing in pain and very wobbly and unsure on his blistered feet he finally managed to stand. "It's my feet, sir," the boy explained sadly, turning around and lifting them one at a time so the trainer could see them.
Alex Wright's response was to immediately grab the radio at his belt and call up to Jason Sanbourne in the helicopter.
"Jason. We've got a problem down here."
As predicted, the tallest, oldest boys began to run out of steam after about ten miles. They were still first to pass the second watering station, but their pace had slowed dramatically. David had dropped from first to third, having been passed by both Illya and Philippe. Josh and Danny were now only thirty seconds behind him, still running side by side and still taunting one another in their good-natured way. Seeing David so close ahead of them though, both boys felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and rushed ahead.
"Let's pass him, Dan," Josh said as his bare feet pounded the hard dirt path. His cock was half-hard at the moment, thanks to the constant stimulation of the plug in his butt. The eleven-year-old's attention though was obsessively focused on David who was struggling along just in front of them.
"Right with you, Joshie!" Daniel replied. And the two smaller boys let out a loud aggressive yell and streaked by the fourteen-year-old.
David was pissed and embarrassed, but there was not much he could do about it. He managed to catch up to them and match their pace for about a quarter mile, but finally he had to slow down to save his strength. He watched with a look of bitter defeat in his eyes as the two youngsters finally got away from him and disappeared over the next hill.
"I'm screwed," he said to himself as he trudged on. Things didn't get much better, as less than one mile later he was passed by Gabriel and little Miles. By now all the boys knew that Miles was a gifted runner, but it didn't make the humiliation any less biting. Being passed so effortlessly by the youngest gladiator was embarrassing, regardless of the circumstances.
Alex Wright drove the four-wheeler to the second watering station, where the island's medical team had set up a first-aid tent for the boy gladiators. Chris was riding on the back of the vehicle, his shackled wrists chained to hand-grips on either side, his legs crossed in front of him. As the vehicle bumped along the course, it naturally jarred the butt-plug deeper into the boy's rectum. This unintended assault on the thirteen-year-old's prostate produced yet another turgid erection within the tight confines of the leather pouch, but Christopher's attention was focused entirely on his battered feet, which were starting to go all numb and tingly. Chris didn't know what could possibly be wrong, but at least they weren't hurting so much anymore.
Alex unchained the boy, and helped him into the medical tent. There were three cots set up inside. Chris saw eleven-year-old Ian lying on one of them, his right ankle packed in ice. The boy had been moving a little too fast over a rough part of the course and ended up taking a rather nasty fall. He'd been running eighth at the time and was desperate to make up ground. Like Chris, his race was now over and he would face the consequences of failing to finish an event.
"Hey, Chris," the younger of the two Australian boys on the island said, waving his hand. Ian was a naturally friendly sort and saw no problems in being nice to a fellow competitor. He was also relieved and little less embarrassed to see that he was not the only boy who wouldn't be finishing, and the fact that it was Christopher Andrews who had joined him in the medical tent made it all the sweeter. He liked Chris a lot, all the boys did, but the thirteen-year-old American was almost always considered a favorite in every single athletic event, thus any time he made a mistake or finished poorly it gave the other boys a smug sense of satisfaction.
"Hi," Chris replied as Alex helped him onto the neighboring cot. The island's eldest trainer then departed, eager to get back on the course and keep an eye on Miles.
"Sorry about this, kid," he said to Chris as he left the tent. "There'll be other marathons. You'll get your chance."
Chris nodded and gave Alex a shy smile. Alexander Wright was so different from all the other trainers. He was almost kind. And he was as good as his word, not telling anyone that he'd caught the boy playing with himself. Chris breathed a huge sigh of relief for that.He remembered how his brother Josh had been punished just for accidentally touching his penis in the shower, and he most certainly did not want to find out what the punishment for masturbating might be. Thankfully, his cock was now just a pleasant boyish bulge in the front of his leather pouch.
Doctor Trench started her examination of the boy's feet immediately. Chris winced and let out a little high-pitched wail as she poked and prodded his tender soles.
"Oh, don't be such a baby. Now lie still or I'll have you restrained."
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am," Chris replied respectfully.
"Nothing's broken, which is good for you," she said. "You don't want to know what we do with lame gladiators."
"Shoot them, ma'am?" Chris asked with a wry and charming smile.
"No. They only do that to horses. You are considerably more valuable than a horse, as long as you stay healthy. You wouldn't want to end up being one of the mules, would you?"
The thirteen-year-old boy's eyes flashed with horror. He could not imagine anything worse. "No, ma'am," he said, shaking his head. They really couldn't do that to him. Could they? "But, I'm indentured, ma'am. I'm not really a slave."
"Not yet," Trench continued as she wrapped the boy's feet in soft gauze. "Apparently you didn't read the fine print in your contract before you and your parents signed it. Any failure to complete your indenture is considered a breach of contract, in which case, the company can choose to have you enslaved permanently. They might keep you on the island, or they might sell you to someone else."
Christopher's blue eyes widened and his breath quickened. "Do my mom and dad know about that?"
"They should, but I'm sure they don't. You'd better make sure they never have to find out."
While Chris and Ian lay quietly on their cots, sinking into deeper fear and misery about what was sure to be a last place performance for the week, the remaining boy gladiators continued the longest, hardest, most exhausting trial of their young lives. By this time, Miles and Gabriel were the only boys who were not struggling or stumbling. David, Philippe, and Alexei had all but surrendered at this point and were barely keeping up a slow jog as they staggered over the remaining miles. Josh and Danny were presently in the lead, but even their young strong wrestler's legs were slowly starting to give out. The heavy backpacks strapped over their shoulders and around their chests were starting to have a noticeable effect, causing them to stumble and fight for their balance. Thirteen-year-old Illya, the tallest of the boys with the longest stride, was close behind them, but since he was currently at the top of the overall standings, he was making no real attempt to catch them. He and Sergei had planned for him to finish somewhere in the middle of the pack so he could save his strength for the rest of the weekend's events. Since he weighed more than all the other boys, his backpack weighed more as well, but so far it had been more of a nuisance than anything else. As a gymnast, Illya's upper body was extraordinarily toned and muscular, his shoulders broad and strong. Carrying the extra weight, so far at least, had been no problem for him.
'So far, so good,' Illya thought to himself as he ran behind the two younger boys. At this point in his life, Illya seemed to find boys and girls equally attractive, and the constant sight of two young pairs of perfectly shaped boy-butts in front of him was causing the young teen's already man-sized penis to swell rather embarrassingly, and uncomfortably, inside its leather pouch. Sergei had intentionally put his younger brother into a pouch several sizes too small for him, one probably meant for Ian or Danny. Naturally, this called even further attention to the impressive package between the thirteen-year-old Russian boy's legs.
As the tall, well-built boy-gymnast ran down a gentle slope toward the final watering station, he was suddenly surprised to hear soft rapid footfalls behind him. He craned his neck back to see Miles and Gabriel coming up quickly on his heels. Just moments before, he would have sworn there was no one back there.
'Shit! Where did they come from?'
The two English boys were currently at a full out run, clearly their intention was to pass him and leave him behind as quickly as possible. Illya did the math, knowing that Danny and Josh were already ahead of him. If he ran harder, he could probably keep Miles and Gabe behind him and finish third, but he'd have to spend all of his energy to do it. Fifth place was right in the middle, exactly where Sergei had wanted him to finish. Illya generally lacked the cut-throat competitiveness of the other boys, but he was clever and understood that finishing first wasn't always worth the trouble. He slowed his pace, just enough so that he couldn't be accused of tanking it.
"He's slowing down, Gabe," Miles huffed excitedly as he ran beside his countryman. He'd been holding back now for the last several miles. He could feel the energy building in his sturdy legs, the need to take off and run at full speed. He was starting to feel that strange high he often got at these longer distances. He was just barely aware of the weights strapped to his back, and they were not going to slow him down. He knew that he could leave Gabriel behind in an instant if he wanted to. He knew, right then and there, that if he passed Illya, the race was as good as his.
"I'm gonna take him!" the ten-year-old shouted to Gabe, already inching ahead of the older English boy. "Keep up with me. If you can!"
Needless to say, twelve-year-old Gabe was shocked when little Miles sprinted away from him without any apparent effort at all. The realization that Miles had been playing all of them for suckers struck him suddenly, and far too late. He quickened his own pace, passed Illya, and managed to stay on Miles' heels for another quarter mile or so, but it was really useless to keep running so hard. Gabriel was, probably, the most stubborn and reckless of the boys. He certainly had the heart and desire to run the littlest gladiator down, but he simply could not fight against the fatigue now creeping into his own legs. He slowed his stride and watched rather unhappily, and helplessly, as Miles moved away from him.
Miles went on, running at his full sprint now. Danny and Josh offered little resistance as he passed between them. "See you guys at the finish line!" he yelled, flashing a wave of his hand. This was, by far, the longest distance he'd ever run, but he was feeling great. He grabbed a bottle of water from the second check-point, barely slowing his pace. Overhead, he could hear and see the helicopter, the onboard camera focusing on him as he covered the last remaining distance all alone. Quite a few of the island's paying guests now lined the course, cheering him on and flashing pictures of him as he powered his lean four-foot frame toward the arena.
Moments later, his trainer, Alex Wright, rode up beside him on a four-wheeler, with one of Mike Brussard's cameramen with him.
"Just keep running, Zero-One," Alex told him as he slowly backed off on the accelerator. "Pretend we're not here."
Miles obeyed his trainer on both counts, entered the packed and noisy arena, circled once around the course markers laid out on the competition floor, crossed the finish line (marked by Trevor in his sexy speedo waving a checkered flag emblazoned with the XB-1 logo) and staggered to an awkward stop, doubled over with his hands on his knees as the crowd went wild around him. Alex approached him and immediately released the locking clasps that kept the weighted backpack in place. Miles hoisted it over his head and flung it as far as his young arms could muster.
"Victory! Boy Zero-One," the public address announcer informed the assembled masses. They demanded a victory lap from the boy, and with minor prodding from his trainer, he gave them one. His legs ached, and he was mostly out of breath, but he was the first winner of the first boy-marathon on Gladiator Island. He pumped his little fists triumphantly at the audience and smiled into the cameras as they moved in for a close-up.
It was five full minutes before Josh and Danny stumbled into the arena side-by-side, made their single lap and finished neck and neck. A slow motion replay revealed that Danny had edged out Josh literally by a foot.
Gabriel finished fourth. Illya a respectable fifth. Alexei had somehow managed a sixth place finish in spite of himself. David and Philippe came in seventh and eighth, having foolishly expended all their adolescent energy over the first five miles. Ian and Chris, of course, did not finish at all, for which they would ultimately end up paying a very heavy price.
The crowd still wanted more of Miles, and so Alex hoisted the exhausted ten-year-old onto his shoulders and walked him slowly around the outer track of the arena, allowing all the spectators to praise his amazing effort.
The remaining boys were quickly shackled, chained together in a single file by their collars, and marched below with no fanfare whatsoever. The final image seen by the worldwide television audience was of tired, sweaty young Miles riding proudly on his trainer's shoulders, waving at the crowd and flashing his adorable gap-toothed smile as flash bulbs went off all around him.
Half a world away, in Samuel Nguni's bedroom, the young South African was staring dumbfounded and disappointed at the screen. He looked over at Pieter rather sheepishly. The family's slave boy was wearing a wide grin on his freckled face.
"Well, I guess you were right," Sam said, getting up from the bed and turning off the HD set. "Good call, Piet."
"Thanks," the white boy replied. His small cock was still rock hard, held up against his groin by the belt around his waist. He looked down at his needy erection and then back to his young master who was sporting a raging hard-on of his own.Piet didn't say anything. He really couldn't.
Sam, however, got the message. "Oh, that. Yeah. Well, you know, I was just kidding, right?"
"Wrong," Piet replied, rather too strongly for his own good. "We had a bet and you lost. Now you've got to suck my dick. You said... or... or you're a liar."
"I can lie to you if I want," Sam said. "Whenever I want to. You're just a slave. It doesn't matter."
"But you said..."
"I think you'll suck my dick instead. That sounds a lot more fair."
"That's not fair at all!" Piet protested, crawling off the bed now with tears starting to form in his blue eyes.
"If you don't suck my dick, I'll have to cane your butt. Would you like that better?"
"No, master." Piet hated when Samuel did things like this. He was always going back on his word.
"Then get down on your knees and suck my dick, Piet. I'm so fucking horny right now. I feel like I'm going to explode." Samuel was not twelve years old yet, but he had a big thick cock between his legs and a seemingly endless need to use it.
Trying to ignore the frustration from his own hard and aching penis, Pieter knelt down obediently and took his master's cock into his mouth.
"Oh, yeah! That's it... suck me harder, Pieter... oooooooh..."
So keyed up from watching Worldwide Boy Gladiators, it took the eleven-and-one-half year old less than thirty seconds to have his orgasm, shooting a precocious amount of hot pre-teen spunk into Pieter's waiting and well-trained mouth. He pushed the naked white boy away, laughing at the dribbles of cum running down the boy's chin onto the floor.
"Clean that mess up," Sam ordered.
Pieter immediately got down on his hands and knees and licked up his master's boyish seed. His own penis was still achingly, desperately erect and would remain so for quite a while longer. Pieter hadn't gotten to cum in quite a few weeks, and apparently he wouldn't be cumming tonight either.
Tired, and with his freshly spent penis flopping soft between his legs, Samuel crawled under his covers.
Piet dutifully turned out the lights and curled up on the floor at the foot of his master's bed. He had no blanket, no mattress, no pillow. The hard wooden floor was good enough for a lowly white slave boy.
The Boy Gladiators spent that Friday evening recovering from the marathon. They were all fed extra portions at dinner. Tonight even the brownish-grey food loaf that had become their standard evening meal seemed to taste good and satisfy their grumbling empty bellies. As a special treat, they each got two sugar cookies for dessert. Moments later, ten sugar-deprived boys were whooping and hollering and enjoying their first sugar rush since they'd arrived on the island. Even Chris and Ian, who were feeling rather glum about their performance and their position on the newly updated scoreboard, managed to join in the boyish hi-jinks, momentarily forgetting the doom that certainly awaited them come Sunday.
Miles had attained instant celebrity status amongst the boys for his amazing performance in the race. Whispered rumors were already flying around the barracks that he would be getting a very special reward for winning. The marathon, the boys had learned, was considered a top-level event, a category given to the most athletically and mentally challenging contests devised for the boys to endure. Winning such an event would always entitle a boy to a valuable and memorable award, not to mention a ton of bonus points. The little ten-year-old strutted proudly around the barracks for the rest of the night, even being so bold as to strike up a conversation with the older boys, whom he normally avoided. The four young teenagers tolerated him for the evening.
As the last-place finishers, Chris and Ian were elected by the rest of the boys to do the sweeping and mopping chores. The two boys, Ian with his gimpy taped-up ankle and Chris with his sore bandaged feet, made a rather awkward and clumsy effort of it. Occasionally one of the other boys would point out that they'd missed a spot, and the guards would make them go back and do it again.
The young gladiators were all locked into their cells at exactly 11:30. As was always the case on the nights before and between competition days, they were ordered to go straight to sleep. Any boys found talking would be given demerits. Within their small cells, the boys whispered good-nights to their partners and quickly drifted off, too tired to even think about breaking the rules.
While Philippe snored softly, Miles lay awake, staring up at the concrete ceiling in the dim light that filtered in through the window. He clasped his hands behind his head and breathed in deeply. He wasn't exactly shocked that he'd won. Cross-country running was his sport, after all. But the other boys, even the eleven-year-olds, were so much bigger than he was. Even for a ten-year-old, he was unusually small. He figured he'd probably finish second or third behind one of the longer-legged boys. Coming in first felt real good. He closed his eyes, yawned, felt his little dick twitch momentarily to life within the tight warm confines of his chastity belt and soften again just as quickly. He ran his right hand across his stomach, already covered with sweat in the hot, sweltering little cell, and tapped playfully at the metal plate that encased his boy-parts. He spread his muscular little ten-year-old legs a bit wider, making the plug in his butt a bit more comfortable, and finally dropped off to sleep on his back, breathing softly and dreaming of running free in the family garden back home.
The next morning, Saturday, Chris awoke to find that his feet actually felt pretty good. He swung his legs off his bunk and cautiously stood up. Alexei was still sleeping, flat on his back and breathing through his mouth. Chris smiled. He always had to wake Alexei up. This time, though, he spent a few minutes staring at the twelve-year-old Russian boy's lean, wiry frame. Chris rested his blue eyes on Alexei's cock-cage, a smaller version of the one that imprisoned his own penis. Alexei's boy-cock was swollen, trying to get hard, pressing against the sharp, unforgiving spikes. The twelve-year-old moaned, moved his legs in his sleep and rolled over onto his side. This, as Chris had found out the hard way, only caused more blood to rush into his imprisoned penis, making it swell even worse against the tiny metal spikes. Alexei cried out in his sleep and started to roll in the opposite direction, a move that would have caused him to fall off the narrow bunk entirely.
Chris quickly shook the boy awake, pretending that he hadn't spent the last few minutes admiring the younger boy's beautiful body and fantasizing about the things the two of them might do together if their dicks weren't always locked up. Chris quickly turned toward the window, not wanting the younger boy to notice the painful, denied-erection currently throbbing away inside his chastity cage.
"You are hard too, right?" Alexei asked, sitting on his bunk with his hairless legs spread wide apart. The boy adjusted his stainless steel cock cage in a vain attempt to get it more comfortable.
"Uh... yeah, I am," Chris replied, giving up and turning around. The two boys stood toe to toe, staring in frustration at their locked up genitals. They didn't have long to commiserate, as the door to their cell was swung open and the loud morning buzzer sounded, indicating the official start of another day for the indentured boys on Gladiator Island.They all looked up fearfully as their arms were raised by their trainers, and the shackles around their wrists were chained to iron rings hung from the overhead beam. Miles, Josh, Ian, and Alexei all stood there wearing only their leather pouches, their currently half-hard penises outlined provocatively, their young arms now stretched above their heads.
Some debate was now being held as to which boy, Daniel or Gabriel, should occupy the final spot under the crossbar. Daniel was technically the fifth youngest and should have been up there with the other four junior gladiators, but since his testroxil treatments had rendered the twelve-year-old incapable of having an erection or an orgasm, he was disqualified from consideration. As the next youngest boy, Gabriel was ordered to step onto the last box and soon bound to the crossbar by his wrists like the four others.
One by one, the boxes were then removed, and the boys were left suspended by their wrists, their feet swinging freely, their cute little boy-toes just barely grazing the concrete floor. The sudden strain and fear of this new ordeal caused all five of them to spring instant and strong erections, all tightly constrained by their leather pouches.
They were allowed to hang there like pieces of meat while the five remaining boys were bent over a long wooden spanking bench and strapped in place.
"We need to warm these boys up first," Jason announced to the crowd as five of the trainers selected five wooden paddles to redden the boys' cute defenseless butts.
For the next twenty minutes, the four youngest boys, plus Gabriel, hung in misery, while the four oldest boys, plus Daniel, were all given a harsh and severe paddling. The hanging boys gasped and moaned and struggled to catch their breath, their abdomens stretched taut, their ribs outlined clearly as they hung. The paddled boys shrieked and screamed and begged for mercy as the paddles rained down upon their round perfect globes of boyflesh. All of them, except of course for Daniel, sporting dripping rock-hard erections by the time their 'warm-up' had concluded.
Attention was now turned to the boys on the crossbar. "Let's make them more comfortable," Jason suggested, and the leather pouches were pulled off the boys' slim waists and down their dangling legs, leaving the five hairless lads hanging completely naked, their throbbing boyish boners on proud display. As always, the sight of eleven-year-old Josh's precociously large penis, now fully hard, caused a series of 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' and other far more rude comments from the crowd. Miles' little ten-year-old dink also received a lot of vocal attention, mostly along the lines of 'Oh, look at that tiny little thing . . . he's so adorable.'
Miles wasn't particularly embarrassed. He was ten. He was supposed to have a small cute little penis, and he did, so it didn't bother him much. He did blush a bit when he heard a woman in the front row shout out "He's so sweet, just like a cuddly little teddy bear."
Meanwhile, the four teenaged boys, and twelve-year-old Daniel, were released from the spanking bench and stood with tear-stained cheeks as their iron collars were removed and replaced with identical leather ones, all adorned with multiple rings. Their wrists were secured behind their backs. Chris, Illya, Philippe, and David were all put back into their chastity cages. This procedure drew excited whistles and cat-calls from the spectators. Daniel was not put into his chastity belt, since there was no possibility that the chemically castrated twelve-year-old would have an erection.
"Alright, boys," Jason addressed them as the crowd grew louder with anticipation. "Pick a partner and get down on your knees in front of him."
The five boys stared dumbfounded for a moment. They were allowed to make choices on their own so rarely these days that none of them were sure. Maybe this was some kind of mean trick...
"Get moving, boys," Jason yelled at them.
Chris was immediately torn between his brother Joshua and his partner Alexei. He was about to move in Alexei's direction when Illya knelt down in front of his fellow Russian Boy Gladiator. Chris moved his bandaged but no longer quite so aching feet as fast as he could and got down on his knees in front of his little brother.
"Hey, Chris," Josh gasped, still struggling to catch his breath as he hung there. His little chest was rising and falling rapidly, and his whole body was glistening with sweat.
"Hi, Joshie,"
"How's your feet?"
"Ok, I guess. Doesn't do me much good now."
"I'm... glad you... picked me."
"You don't even know what they're gonna make us do to each other." Chris looked up into his younger brother's earnest and frightened eyes.
"I'm still glad," the eleven-year-old said. His penis was still painfully hard, and now it was right under his big brother's nose. Chris stared at his little brother's not so little penis with its swollen pink cock-head... was that a little drop of pre-cum glistening on the little boy's piss-slit?
"Is that...?" Chris asked.
Josh nodded his head proudly. He was a cummer now, just like the big boys. He couldn't produce much, but he could shoot all the same.
"Don't let it go to your head," Chris smirked. "You're still a little sprout around here, got it?"
Hanging from the crossbar, Josh wiggled his hips and swung himself forward, smacking his older brother's face with his ridiculously oversized erection, leaving a little trail of his clear eleven-year-old boy-juice on Christopher's cheek.
"You're gonna pay for that, dick-boy," Chris said with a grin, using Hannah's unimaginative but perfectly apt nickname for Josh.
The Andrews brothers' latest sibling quarrel was interrupted when the trainers, working in pairs, fitted each of the hanging boys with a tight cock and ball harness, identical to the one Josh had been forced to wear back in the black room. Five hard pre-teen dicks instantly got even harder, all of them, even little Miles', turning a dark angry shade of purple. The boy-sized harnesses were meant to make a young lad's erection extraordinarily painful, extraordinarily large, and extraordinarily long-lasting. Josh had been kept hard and unable to cum for hours the last time he'd worn it. Now all five of the harnessed boys were moaning and groaning and staring down at their angry erections. Little Miles gaped wide-eyed, having never seen his harmless little penis so big and so thick, and it appeared to be swelling even larger and harder with each beat of his pulse. The harness had pulled his little balls forward too, and they were turning a similar shade of purple.
With the harnesses in place, the trainers now attached a pair of thick elastic cords to the older boys' collars and hooked these to small rings on their respective partners' harness. The cords were only four inches long and extremely taut. The boys on their knees were effectively bound to their partners' cocks, unable to pull back more than an inch or so. For Chris, this meant that Josh's five-and-one-half-inch boner was already half-way in his mouth. David, who was kneeling in front of Gabriel's thick five incher, had a similar problem. Danny had ended up in front of Miles. He was able to pull his head back and his mouth completely off of the ten-year-old's not-quite three-inch erection, but just barely. The pressure from the cords forced him to move his head forward again and take the youngest boy's cocklet into his mouth. The realization that Miles now had more between his legs than he did was a sobering and depressing thought, but Danny knew there wasn't anything he could do about it.
"This is an endurance contest. The rules are simple," Jason explained to the audience. "The boys on their knees have no choice but to suck their partners' cocks, which, as you can see, are fully and painfully erect. The harnesses will ensure they stay that way, and also keep the boys from cumming for quite a while. The boy who goes the longest without causing his partner to orgasm is the winner. The first boy to have an orgasm, and his partner, will receive a special punishment right after the contest."
Hannah Dubose blew her whistle.
Jason turned to the boy gladiators. "Let the battle begin!"
The crowd fell silent, their collective eyes focused on the giant HD screens overhead as the film crews moved in and surrounded the ten boy gladiators. The trainers stood by as well with their shock-sticks at the ready, a natural precaution should one of the five cocksucking boys decide to cheat and not give it his all. Anthony, Ian's trainer, was handling the play-by-play for this one, walking up and down the line of five boys hanging by their wrists and the five boys on their knees in front of them.
"Boy Zero-One is a dry cummer," he explained as he stopped in front of Miles. Young Danny was dutifully sucking the youngest gladiator's presently rock-hard little penis. "It probably won't take him too long to have an orgasm. Let's see how much self-control this little man has." Miles moaned softly and was already swinging in his bonds. A ten-year-old boy's penis is exceptionally sensitive, and as Danny laved his tongue over Miles' pink swollen cock-head and up and down his cute three-inch shaft, the little boy was sent into throes of unimaginable pleasure, so strong it quickly became agonizing.
Next along the line were the two Andrews brothers. Anthony swatted Josh hard on the ass. He kept his hand there for a moment, using his fingers to press on the end of the plug in the eleven-year-old's butt. Josh squealed in complaint as his immature but perpetually overstimulated prostate was assaulted yet again. "Zero-Two has the biggest cock we've ever seen on a boy this young. According to the most recent information from our medical department, he's just become capable of ejaculation. Let's see how long it takes his big brother to make him shoot. My bet is it won't be long.It certainly seemed like a good assessment. Josh was groaning and gasping and wiggling his ten adorable little toes, pulling hard against the chains that held his wrists to the bar above his head.
"Ohmigosh, Chris... that feels totally awesome!"
Chris could only manage a muffled "mmmph, mmph" as his mouth was currently stuffed with his eleven-year-old brother's exceptionally large five-and-one-half-inch erection. He could feel and taste Josh's meager pre-teen production of pre-cum. Clean, fresh and just a little salty to the taste. Very different from what he'd tasted when he had a man's dick shoved into his mouth. Josh tasted, well, like a boy, as best as Chris could guess. Chris discovered that with a little extra suction he could draw Josh's foreskin back up over the tip of his penis, then with his lips push it all the way back again. That action caused Josh to shriek in pleasure and shake all over.
"Oh, shit! Chris. Do... do that... again... do it! Right now!"
Chris complied, strangely turned on by the idea of his little brother giving him orders. His teenaged cock was swelling madly inside its chastity cage and his frustrated balls were aching to shoot their thick load of thirteen-year-old cum. It was that ache, that desperate need to cum, and the knowledge that he would not be allowed to, that was so strangely erotic for him. Chris worked Josh's foreskin up and down several more times until a breathless and gasping Josh pleaded with him to stop.
"Ok... ok... ooohhh, you gotta stop now, Chris. I'm gonna cum if you keep doin that... don't wanna cum yet. Can't cum first... can't cum..."
Thankfully for Josh, Chris had become quite the skilled little cocksucker during this first month on the island. None of the other boys were nearly as skilled or practiced as he was. He quickly stopped what he was doing and allowed Josh's hard penis to throb on its own within his mouth for a few minutes, just occasionally sucking or rolling his tongue along the shaft to keep his little brother hard.
The tight harnesses on the younger boys' cocks and balls did manage to prevent all of them from cumming as fast as they otherwise might have. Their young penises got harder and harder, painfully so as they continued to engorge with blood. Chris could actually feel little veins protruding along the length of Josh's rigid boy-pole. The other cocksuckers had similar experiences and all five of the suckees soon had tears in their eyes from the agony of enduring enforced erections. The contest went on for almost thirty minutes as the younger boys edged closer and closer to having their orgasms. The sounds of their squeaks, squeals, moans, groans and cries, all heard over the public address system, and broadcast worldwide in digital quality, was exceptionally adorable and arousing.
Josh was so close it was pure anguish now. He wanted to cum so badly he no longer cared about possible consequences.
"Just let me cum, Chris. I'll deal with whatever punishment they give me."
'Give us,' Chris thought to himself as Josh's penis jerked and danced inside his mouth. 'No way I'm letting us both get punished.'
Christopher's skills kept Josh from cumming for another ten minutes and ultimately saved them both from punishment as next to them young Ian, being sucked by Philippe, shouted out a high-pitched squeal, curled his little toes, went completely rigid and had a powerful eleven-year-old orgasm, shooting a small amount of immature seed into the French boy's mouth.
"We have a loser!" Anthony announced, particularly pissed that it was his boy who'd gone out first. "Now we need to find a winner."
Philippe's collar was detached from Ian's cock and ball harness, but the two boys were forced to stay in their current position. Ian suspended by his wrists, his slim torso stretched out provocatively, his still erect penis on display for all to see, and Philippe, locked in his chastity cage, on his knees with his arms bound tightly behind him. Large penis gags were shoved into both boys' mouths and strapped in place behind their heads to keep them quiet while the remaining eight boys fought it out for first place.
Just a few moments later, Miles started to buck wildly in his chains, slamming his groin into Danny's face in rapid thrusts. All the trainers agreed this was certainly a dry orgasm and thus Miles and Danny were the second pair to be eliminated. Observing from his luxury box, William Durand called down to Jason. "Make the little bastard cum until all the other boys have their orgasms."
Jason relayed these instructions to Anthony who gleefully broke the news to Miles that they were going to force even more dry cums from his tired sweaty little body. "You don't stop cumming until they all stop cumming," he announced so the crowd could hear as well. Loud cheers went up. The crowd loved Miles, found him cuddly and adorable, but that did not mean they didn't enjoy watching him suffer. And there is not much suffering worse for a pre-pubescent boy than being forced to have one shattering dry orgasm after another in rapid succession. So, Danny kept on sucking and poor little Miles kept on cumming. He had three more dry cums in the ten minutes it took for Alexei to shoot his pent-up load of twelve-year-old sperm. Alexei was already well known for the prodigious amount of cum his young balls could produce and this latest ejaculation was no exception. Illya's lips and chin were dripping with the younger Russian's spunk when it was all over. Like Philippe and Ian, the two boys were disconnected, gagged and left right were they were.
It took another fifteen minutes for David to finally coax an orgasm from a desperate and horny Gabriel. The cock and ball harness seemed to have had a particularly noticeable effect on young Gabe, keeping him on the edge of a climax without being able to finish it off for almost a full hour now. When the twelve-year-old finally came it was explosive and unbearably painful, his rock hard cock swelling even harder in the harness, his young testicles feeling as though they'd been kicked. He was left hanging there crying and sobbing, his penis still grotesquely swollen as he and David were disconnected. This left Chris and Josh as the winners.
"We have a winner," Anthony announced. "Boy Zero-Two has held out the longest. Twenty bonus points for him and five for his big brother."
The crowd cheered. The elastic cords holding Christopher's collar to Joshua's cock and ball harness were removed and the two boys were allowed to separate. Josh still hadn't cum and his rigid penis was now sticking up toward his taut-stretched stomach. Secured by the harness, his eleven-year-old balls, already big for his age, were swollen and purple. His reward, for winning, was to have Hannah apply several ice cubes to his raging boner and balls and then immediately lock him back into his chastity belt. He stared at her with shocked and wounded eyes.
"No one said the winner was going to have an orgasm, Zero-Two," she laughed at him as she adjusted the metal plate that encased the youngster's genitals. "Enjoy your bonus points."
With Josh locked away in his belt, Miles was finally allowed to stop having orgasms. Altogether the ten-year-old had suffered through seven dry cums in the full hour he'd now spent hanging from the crossbar. He was a drooling, sobbing incoherent mess when they let him down, his dick, still being kept hard by the harness was red and sore. Josh and Alexei had to help him stand while his cock and ball harness was removed. His little dink deflated immediately, back to his soft one and one-half inch length. He was rather a happy boy when Alexander strapped the chastity belt around his waist once again. He really didn't like wearing the belt, but he liked having his little pickle played with even less, so having it locked away out of sight was perfectly okay with him. He was really sore down there now and actually hoped the belt would stay on for a while.
While the other eight boys were marched below to the holding cage, Ian and Philippe remained in position, alone now in center of the arena with the crowd staring at them, eager to see what suffering lay in store for the two losers. Both boys shook in terror, and another hushed silence fell over the audience when Doctor Trench strode confidently up the ramp and across the arena floor. One of the older mules was obediently pushing a medical cart behind her, his ankles chained, his head bowed. Ian and Philippe both knew that if the doctor was involved their punishment was going to be particularly unpleasant.
"Our two losers will now be punished," Anthony announced to the crowd. "Their punishment will last for the rest of the day." Applause and murmurs of approval followed from the most sadistic members of the audience. "We will start with Boy Zero-Eight. Since his tongue got him into this mess, his tongue will pay the price."
Anthony and Roger held Philippe still while Doctor Trench prepared his punishment. From her medical cart she took two stainless steel metal rods, each about six-inches long. After dropping these into a sterilizing solution, she picked up a dental clamp and approached her first victim.
"Open his mouth."
Philippe wasn't given the chance to do it voluntarily. Roger gripped the boy's jaw and forced his mouth open. Doctor Trench closed the clamp around the end of Philippe's tongue and pulled it out of his mouth as far as it would go. The fourteen-year-old jerked and struggled, but the two trainers held him down on his knees. The weight and shape of the clamp made it impossible for the boy to pull his tongue back into his mouth.
As Philippe's eyes filled with tears, Trench took the two steel rods and positioned them above and below the boy's outstretched tongue.She then applied two smaller clamps to either end of the pair, turning them, essentially, into a vice, which she tightened slowly onto the boy's tongue. Philippe whimpered and made another futile effort to pull out of the grip of the two trainers.
Trench quickly scolded him. "If you keep struggling, I'll end up pulling your tongue right out of your head. Now be still! You're headed for more demerits, young man."
Philippe obeyed and stared up at the doctor as she tightened the vice gag further. The boy's tongue was now sandwiched firmly and painfully between the two steel rods. He quickly discovered that retracting it was going to be impossible. As long as those rods were in place, he could neither eat nor speak nor drink.
"Mmmphh, ffpphhthhh, nnmph," were the only sounds the young teen could make as he stared at the grown-ups with sad, weeping eyes.
"And now for the final touch," Trench said, selecting a small vial of liquid from the cart. "This contains a highly concentrated oil derived from the habanero pepper. Not the hottest in the world, but hot enough." She used a medical dropper to apply the smallest amount to Philippe's helpless, outstretched tongue.
"Let him go!" the doctor shouted as Philippe shrieked and broke free of the trainers' grasp. With his hands still bound behind him and unable to retract his tongue, the habanero oil remained on the tip of his tongue, burning worse and worse with each passing second. The crowd applauded and laughed as the poor, slender French boy bolted around the arena desperately trying to think of some way to cool off his flaming tongue. Normally, a boy gladiator would not be allowed to run around this way, but Philippe presented such a comical sight, his slim, hairless fourteen-year-old frame twitching and shaking, his desperate and futile attempts to get his arms free, and the look of shock, shame and dismay on his face, that they decided to just let him run wild around the arena. His trainer, an enigmatic young woman named Elaina, kept a close eye on him and a close hand on her shock stick should she need to bring the boy down.
While Philippe pranced around the arena floor, Doctor Trench prepared for Ian's somewhat more elaborate punishment.
"Should we take him down first, doc?" Roger Bramley asked, standing beside the hanging boy.
"That won't be necessary. Just keep him still."
Anthony explained Ian's punishment to the already delighted and excited crowd. "Boy Zero-Three couldn't control his little dick, so he's going to be taught a lesson for the rest of the day."
Doctor Trench began by removing the eleven-year-old's cock and ball harness. Ian winced and whimpered as he hung there. His penis was sore and swollen from being constantly erect for nearly a full hour, and his nuts weren't faring much better. "Oh, please, miss," he whined, "my willy hurts so much already..."
But the doctor simply ignored the boy's sad protest and took firm hold of his penis with her right hand, skinning back his foreskin in the process. From the nearby cart, she selected a four-inch long metal sound with small bulbous ends. By now, all of the boys had endured the terror and humiliation of having sounds inserted into their penises during their regular visits to the medical suite, but having it done in front of a worldwide audience was a new low for Ian. He didn't need any coaching from the trainers to writhe and scream his little lungs out as the doctor expertly forced the shiny, slender rod into his dick. She'd been performing these types of procedures on boys for years, ever since the passage of the International Child Slavery Act. Like many small-town pediatricians, her career took off in lucrative new directions when that law was passed. Over the years since, she'd developed her cold, methodical and highly efficient approach to slave-boy medicine. She logically thought of them as animals, and in many ways she now had more in common with veterinarians than physicians.
Ian was trying his best to be brave. Calvin Mayfair had his hands firmly around the boy's hips, holding him still as Doctor Trench continued the procedure. A small mesh cage was placed over the head of the eleven-year-old's penis. It was a common device, normally used to keep catheters in place, precisely modified by Trench to both anchor the sound and keep it from sliding out, and to keep the boy's foreskin fully retracted.
Looking down at his penis, Ian saw its sore little head encased in thin wire mesh with the bulbous end of the sound just visible at the tip. He gasped and sniffled. Calvin released his grip on his waist and gave him a quick smack on the butt.
"Good boy," he said. "Now for the fun part."
"I don't think it's gonna be all that fun," Ian replied, gazing down again at his impaled penis.
Doctor Trench smiled at Calvin's enthusiasm and Ian's reticence. She next attached a thin wire to the end of the sound using a small clamp. At her instruction, Anthony put Ian back into his chastity belt, taking care to feed the loose wire through the tiny urine hole at the bottom of the belt's metal genital plate. Ian winced as the belt was tightened around his waist and secured with padlocks. He again felt the uncomfortable tightness as the metal plate pressed against his boy-parts, ensuring that his penis would not become erect.
The free end of the wire was now attached to a small, handheld, battery-operated controller. The controller had a single sliding activator, currently in the off position. After making sure that everything was properly hooked up, Trench slid the activator to full power.
In that instant, a small but sharp electrical current traveled through the wire and into the highly conductive metal sound. Ian was the first boy on the island to experience the agony of having his urethra shocked. The boy shrieked and jerked as he hung from his wrists, swinging his beautiful, hairless legs in a wild display of pain-induced madness. The shock only lasted for a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity as the current traveled into his penis. The mesh cage that encased his glans was also conductive, and so the boy's ultra-sensitive cock-head, normally covered by his floppy foreskin, also received a good jolt.
"Oh, calm down, boy," Trench scolded him. "Honestly, you'd think we were cutting your dick off the way you're screaming. That was just a test to make sure everything is working. I'll turn it down, if you like."
"Pppp...ppplleease...miss...ttt...turn it...ddd...down..."
Trench smiled, thinking once again how much she enjoyed her job and how lucky she was to have gotten this high-profile position on Gladiator Island. She moved the slider to the halfway mark. Ian received another jolt, much less painful than the first, but still more than just a tickle.
"Is that better?" she asked the boy.
"I...I ggg...guess so, miss," Ian stammered. The second electrical shock, though mildly painful, had also caused his penis to attempt to erect itself within the snug confines of his chastity belt. Trench could tell what was happening just by the look on the boy's face.
"It must be, if your little sausage is trying to get hard. Shame on you."
"Ssss...sorry, miss," Ian replied as another mild jolt shot into his piss-slit.
Satisfied that the setting was right for long-term use, Trench taped the controller box to Ian's right thigh, wrapping medical tape around the boy's leg to ensure it would not slip out. She took smaller pieces of tape and secured the wire in several places along the length of Ian's thigh. He would be competing with the device in place, and she didn't want a loose wire snagging or pulling out of the electrified sound.
Anthony again addressed the audience. "Zero-Three is now wearing a special device inside his chastity belt. He will be receiving a mild electrical shock to his penis every three minutes for the rest of the day. If he earns any further demerits, the setting will be increased each time."
The spectators applauded this sensible and devious punishment.
"If any of you are interested in having a similar device custom-made for your slave boys, please see Doctor Trench before you conclude your stay with us."
With that, young Ian was finally taken down from the crossbar and marched along with Philippe down into the holding area beneath the arena floor. Just as he was about to disappear into the tunnel, the controller delivered another shock to the eleven-year-old's penis, causing him to jump and shout and do a cute little capering dance from foot to foot. Naturally, the cameras caught the humorous scene and played it on the large overhead screen. The crowd laughed and applauded. For the wealthy visitors on Gladiator Island, it had been a thoroughly entertaining morning, and they now slowly dispersed to get lunch at the island's top-notch eatery or enjoy an early afternoon on the private beach. Most of the island's guests had brought their slave boy or boys with them, and so a parade of well-dressed men and women filed out of the arena with their collared, chained, naked or scantily clad boys on leashes walking or crawling along behind them.
Many of the adults were busily checking the schedule for the day's remaining events. The evening competitions would feature a 'Tug of War' that set many imaginations wandering, and the week's finale was listed as the 'Best Whipped Ass' competition, in which ten lucky spectators would be selected to participate directly, provided, of course, they could pay a small additional fee. | null | Chapter 30 | Authors/istari/Worldwide Boy Gladiators - Chapters 30 - 36.txt |
99,380 | Uther Pendragon | Life Sentence | You're in him, and you're in her, and he's in her, and they are both shaking, and he shudders and shoots you out; you swim against them all and win, and you feel thousands attack and you are hit, and you meet, and she shudders, and you need to hold on and grab a wall, and you grow there, and she nourishes you; then she shakes even worse, and it hurts like hell, and she pushes you out, and you will never be warm again; but she holds you and feeds you, and you want to be with her always; then she denies you, and there is only strange food, and he holds you and it isn't so bad, and you are going to take him away from her, and then one day he spanks you -- much harder than she does -- and you want somebody else; then they shove you off into a class of strangers; then one of them tries to kiss you and it's no, and another tries and it's no, but finally one does -- not trying but doing -- and it's sort of yes and then it's yes; he tries to get in you and it's no, but with another it's yes and it hurts like hell, but the next time it doesn't, and it's true love and forever until you find that he talked, and then life ends; but it resumes, and one is nicer than the others, and with him is nicer too, and it's forever and love; and down the aisle you walk wondering what happens if it's not; then he is in you and he shakes and you shake, but something holds on, and you are ecstatically happy except when you are tragically trapped; then it hurts like hell, and then he is cute and sucking where his father did but to more effect, and then it hurts again and then again; then you send the eldest off to school, and soon they are all gone; then the love that was to be forever gets buried with him, and the grandkids say they miss him too; then they are grown, and you lie in a room where greatgrands visit and say they love you, but really they'd rather be elsewhere; then it hurts like hell, and, when the pain stops, so do you. | null | null | Authors/Uther_Pendragon/life.txt |
99,514 | Uther Pendragon | Forget All That | You'll have read that breast-fed babies have fewer colds and stomach upsets. Studies suggest that they will be safer from asthma and have fewer allergies as they grow up. There are even suggestions that they will develop a higher IQ and be less susceptible to acne in adolescence. People tell you that breast-feeding might make you less likely to suffer from breast cancer in later life and will definitely speed the loss of that extra weight that you developed during pregnancy.
Forget all that.
The real reason for breast-feeding your child is that, when you visit your in-laws, it's the only way to get her back from her grandparents. And from her aunt. Have I mentioned her aunt?
Well, I may be exaggerating a little bit.
My husband Bob and I went home for Christmas when our daughter was seven months old. She was quite a hit on the train, and The Kitten enjoyed the attention for most of that time. By the middle of the second day, however, she'd had enough of being the cynosure of a score of strangers, enough of new sensations, enough of being fed under a cloak. She even seemed to dislike the swaying of the train, which she'd loved when the trip began. As anyone who has traveled with kids will guess, this tantrum was peaking about the time that we arrived at the station where Bob's parents had been waiting for more than an hour.
When we struggled off the train with all our paraphernalia, Bob apologized for The Kitten's mood. "Right," said his mother. "And next you're going to blame Amtrak for your tardiness. Is my namesake going to say hello?" At that point The Kitten wouldn't let her father hold her, much less this strange woman. Katherine was disappointed but philosophical. "Been there, dear. I mean where you are not where she is. But we've probably all been there too, just don't remember it." They had a baby-seat already installed in the van. (Bob was also carrying one; car seats have other uses.) We all got in, and we were on the road.
By that evening, after a long nap and a long nurse in absolute privacy, The Kitten and I were fit to meet people. Her grandmother got her first. "Come to Grandma Brennan," said Katherine, and then, when she had her in her arms, "CATHerine Angelique Brennan, CaTHERine Angelique Brennan," all eight steps to "Catherine Angelique BrenNAN. That's you." The Kitten gurgled at her. "Well I think that you *should* be proud. And guess what?"
"Oooh," said The Kitten.
"My name is Katherine, but with a K. YOU were named for ME!" Unimpressed, the Kitten made a grab for the string of beads around Katherine's neck. "Don't worry," Katherine said to me, "those beads are safe. Vegetable dyes." She did take the precaution of putting her glasses on a high shelf.
The baby food, disposable diapers, and baby wipes that we brought had multiplied while I slept. A table, neatly covered with a plastic garbage bag, had been set up for "downstairs changes," in Katherine's words. The senior Brennans had not only been eager for our visit, they had prepared for it. I commented on that to Bob when we were in bed that night. The room came equipped with a dim night light; there was a quilt on the floor and another one downstairs for any occasion in which The Kitten needed to be on the floor; there was a changing table; The Kitten slept in a refurbished crib. (Our bed however was still the twin-size from Bob's teenage years. That's all right, there is plenty of room for two in a twin bed.)
"Ihm hmm. Have you looked at the heater in the corner?" I had. It was an electric space heater. In front of it, keeping The Kitten from getting too close, was metal shelving such as you might find in a tool room. "Those shelves are attached to the walls. I might be able to pull them over on me; you're too light; The Kitten doesn't stand a chance. There is a switch controlling the heater; it is attached to the shelves at eye level. A little bit of overdesign, there; but my father doesn't miss a trick. Now, aren't you glad that you married me?"
"*Now* I am."
"Well, you have to take the bitter with the sweet." Meaning that I would have to put up with my husband to get my in-laws. Truth to tell, I was very happy with *him* right then; and I rapidly became even happier. He kissed all over my face before starting to nibble my ear. I pulled away to give him a real kiss. Our tongues played for a bit before he began to caress me.
Bob is usually a marvelously slow, gentle, and seductive lover. This was one of the occasions, however, when he was an annoyingly slow, subdued, and dilatory lover. For those times, I have some subtle hints to suggest to him that I'd welcome a more rapid approach. This night, for example, I took his wrist in both my hands and moved it so his hand was between my legs. He grasped my meaning ... and my mound.
His kisses traveled over my face to my neck while his hand kindled a flame down below. You can talk of Don Juan or Casanova, but Bob knows *me*. He knew the spot on the side of my neck which turns me on when he licks it. He knew how to wait until my arousal was great enough that the turn-on was stronger than the tickle. He knew that my nipples were sore and to lick them very gently rather than sucking on them. He knew how to stroke me to take me to the ragged edge of my climax.
And he knew that I wanted his kiss to muffle my cry as he stroked me over that edge.
He knew that I loved being held by him as I recovered from the climax. His arms were around me and his voice whispered in my ear. "Beloved, marvelous Jeanette, sweetheart, darling, sweet, love, darling Jeanette ..." he murmured as I gasped.
"I love you," I said when I had recovered my breath. "Give me a little time."
"All you need." He took my right hand, however, and began kissing each finger. When I reached my left hand across toward him, he kissed the palm of my right. That kiss tickled; it also aroused me. "Now?" he asked.
"Not quite." I moved down in the bed a bit. "Now." We kissed as before. This time, however, I caressed him as much as he caressed me. When he licked my nipple, I stroked the backs of my fingernails down his abdomen.
"It's been two and a half days," he said.
"For me too," I answered; but I stopped at his pubic hair. After I had toyed with this for a moment, he groaned and started climbing over me. As soon as he was between my legs, I scrunched down a little bit more.
He kissed me once on the lips and then came forward until he touched me. After an instant of adjustment, Bob eased in. I curled myself up to meet his thrust. When he was all the way inside, filling me completely, I kissed his shoulder. "Let me," I said. Then I kissed down until I could lick *his* nipple, which hardened for my tongue. He straightened more at that attention, but it was a strain on me even so. I dropped my head back on the bed and slid my hands up his arms to his back. He moved slowly back and forth, in and out.
The sensations of his motions within me were delightfully arousing; the sensations of his muscles tensing and moving under my hands were arousingly delightful. I slid my hands down his back until I could cup his hips which were driving our entire connection. I felt them harden as they pushed him inward, loosen as he eased back out.
"Love," he whispered as they tensed; he slipped deep in me, slowly filling me up. "You," he whispered as they relaxed and other muscles pulled him back until only my entrance held any part of him. "Love, ... you, ... love, ... you." He was speaking louder now, although not quite at his regular volume.His motions were still slow and steady. I raised my loins to meet his motions, curling my belly in the process. "Love," clenching muscles, sliding entry, curling belly, complaining springs; "You," softening muscles, withdrawing husband, relaxing belly, complaining springs. I used my grip on his hips to pull myself into his thrusts. "Love," clenching muscles, sliding entry, curling belly, straining arms, complaining springs; "You," softening muscles, withdrawing husband, relaxing belly and arms, complaining springs. He sped up a little for my pulls, but he tried to slow his withdrawals even more. I wanted none of that delay.
I tucked my fingers so that the tips touched my palms. That rather ruined my grip for pulling him closer, but you can't have everything. As he started inward, I straightened my right hand, scratching his butt and a little of his inner thigh. I was still moving my fingernails backwards, and they are the short fingernails of a typist and mother. Still, they scratch. He shoved forward hard. He stayed pressed into me for a second. "Jeanette?" he said.
"Ihm hmm?" I responded. I don't know what I was asking, much less what he was. So I tightened his very favorite muscle around him. That started him moving again. I waited another few strokes before straightening my left hand to scratch him again. The very next stroke, it was my left hand again. I chose the hands in random order at random intervals, although always when he was coming in; I had no desire to have him pull all the way out. Soon he was moving much faster, saying "Love" on every thrust. He abandoned the "you"; he had to breathe sometime.
Oddly enough, my concentration on all this stimulation had lowered my own excitement level. That was okay. I had had a climax, I wanted to feel his. I caressed his driving butt. Then, as he sped up once more, grunting instead of saying words, I slowly moved a finger to the point right behind his scrotum. Just before I pressed there, I clasped around him as hard as I could. He shoved himself into me as if trying to reach the top of my head.
He grunted once more. Then he was pressing against me, shaking, and groaning. He pulsed within my clasp and I felt him spurt deep within. Doctor Gupta can say what she wants, I do feel his seed hit me. I could just make out his grimace in the dim light.
Then he collapsed on top of me. After a minute I rolled him over until I could see his face again. He looked just like his daughter when she has fallen asleep nursing.
There is room for two in a twin bed, you need a double bed for two and a wet spot. I seriously doubted that Bob would change any diapers that night. Still, I was a very satisfied woman as I drifted off to sleep. Daughters and husbands both create messes, but my daughter and my husband are both worth it.
Part Two:
I haven't the slightest memory of feeding or changing The Kitten during the night, although I must have done so. The next memory I have is of Bob presenting a hungry, dry, baby to me in the morning. The Kitten, her mother's daughter, is not generally a morning person. This morning, however, she was wide awake. By the time I looked at the clock, it was after ten. That explained it. "What was that about?" asked Bob.
"What was what about?" I honestly hadn't the faintest idea what he was talking about.
"Last night." Oh that. How should I know what my feelings were about? It just seemed like a nice idea, and it had worked out fine. It is also totally unreasonable of Bob to ask about my sexual desires. They had been nicely under control before he started inciting them, thank you.
"I don't argue when you want something." Something sexual, I meant.
"Yah! Shure!" he said. Well I haven't recently, at least not much. "Anyway, I was inquiring, not complaining."
"Considering the look on your face last night, it would show remarkable gall to complain," I said before remembering that Bob shows remarkable gall twenty times a day.
"Look?"
"You two look remarkably alike when you are blissed out." By this time, The Kitten had satisfied her first hunger, and was mostly playing. I handed her to Bob and grabbed a robe. I took as little time in the bathroom as I could, but she was not happy about the interruption.
"I did get a bubble," Bob said on my return, "but only a small one. Anyway, it isn't the same." While I lay down and returned The Kitten to my breast, I tried to figure out why the bubble wasn't the same. Same as what? "She just blisses out from a full tummy," I believe that there is some maternal interaction involved as well, but never mind; I now knew what wasn't the same. "I, on the other hand, only bliss out when I experience an erotic encounter with the most arousing woman in North America."
"I just decided to run some things last night. Is that a problem?"
"Indeed not!"
"When you want to run things," (Which is most of the time) "that's fine by me."
"You wouldn't mind if I ran things today? Or do you still have plans?" Plans? I had been out of bed, which does not mean awake, for half an hour. At this time in the morning, he was lucky I could answer him coherently. Plans were out of the question.
"I don't have any plans at all."
"Then I can run things?"
"Go right ahead." I must point out that I never would have given him carte blanche if I had been awake. He began to knead my feet. He does this sometimes when I'm tired or have been on them all day. He did it frequently during my pregnancy, and that protects him at times like this. About the time I see that he plans to take advantage of an agreement which he extracted from me when I was non compos mentis, I remember that he cared for me so gently when I was retaining more water than Lake Michigan and having problems fitting through doors.
He finally had mercy on me, though. He was kissing my stomach when it rumbled loudly.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"Very."
"You know, Mom wouldn't mind your feeding The Kitten while you ate."
"The Kitten would mind my feeding myself while she ate." And so she would. She even objected to my giving attention to Bob for that conversation, although I gave her plenty of reassurance in our pauses. She is learning a little independence from Maman, but any independence on the part of Maman is a horse of a different color.
The Kitten, however, finally finished her play and was ready to be burped. She's the opposite of her father in that way; she starts off sucking on the nipples and ends up just playing with the breasts. Bob started chanting "Just for a handful of silver he left us," and I escaped to take a shower.
Bob's father was at work. Katherine, Catherine, and Bob were in the kitchen when I got there. I had decided to wait for lunch since everybody else would be eating soon, but Katherine asked, "Would you like to finish up the waffle batter?" I couldn't say no to that. She handed The Kitten to Bob, and gave me a hug first. "Welcome home," she said. I hugged her. The Kitten hadn't allowed me to touch anybody else when we had come off the train.
"It feels like home," I said. I didn't mean like the home I was raised in; I meant like a real home. Katherine got busy with the waffle iron and the batter. "Waffles are a treat," I said. "We don't have a waffle iron, and the frozen ones don't taste the same."
"Yes," she said. "Bob was telling me that." Suddenly, I suspected that this was the reason why she hadn't given me a choice between breakfast and lunch. I looked over at Bob. He gave me his innocent look, not one of his more convincing looks. "Are you really off coffee?" she asked. I'm really off coffee. Nine months without caffeine taught me what an addict I had been. Not that I would start on Brennan coffee, anyway. What's the point?
Instead, I drank orange juice with my waffles. Bob took The Kitten into the living room to play on the quilt. "Are you sure she can't get into trouble?" I asked when he got back.
"Is she crawling already?" Katherine asked. "She can't be!" She isn't.
"She can turn over," I explained. "and over, and over. She travels sideways." Bob and I spent some time listing her recent exploits. It's not as if Katherine hadn't heard them before, but she was eager to hear them all again. There was batter for one more waffle than I could eat, so Bob helped out.
Normally, we would have talked around the table another hour, but Katherine was antsy to see The Kitten again. "Wash up, would you dear?" she said. "Let's go watch my namesake, dear." The first "dear" meant Bob, and the second meant me.
The Kitten had managed to roll onto the rug, though not in any dangerous position. I took her favorite rattle out of the diaper bag and shook it on the far side of the quilt. She demonstrated her rolling technique for her grandmother. As soon as she got to the center of the quilt, she got the rattle and verbal praise from two of us. I think that Katherine's was quite genuine.
"You know, dear," she said, "so many of my contemporaries see their lives as getting worse and worse. Physically, of course, that's true. But The Kitten is the crowning pleasure of a great period of my life. And Russ feels the same way. Vi is a pleasure, too, of course." Vi is Kathleen Violet Brennan -- M.D. as of this spring, and we are all *so* proud of her.
"It must help as well that you no longer have tuition to pay."
"We're still helping with Vi's analysis," (Vi isn't crazy. She is in process of becoming a psychoanalyst.) "but yes."And you aren't going to escape that easily. Your degree is next."
"Sometime soon," I said. "Not while my baby needs me." Bob and I had specifically decided on trying for a child before I tried for a college degree. "But you must have worried continually about money these past dozen years. I felt incredibly guilty about the first trip to Paris. We didn't have the time to warn you, but putting the airfare on our credit card was a little much. We couldn't have paid it off without you, we shouldn't have spent it without one of those famous Brennan family meetings."
"Russ was so proud of Bob for that. 'Anybody can see,' he said, 'when money is well spent; Bob has learned to see when it is well risked.' Although I'm not sure that everybody can see when money is well spent, dear. Russ's standards for 'anybody' are a little high sometimes. Of course, Bob got a dissertation out of the risk, but Russ wouldn't have blinked if the risk had failed. It was a good bet.
"No. My worst worries were before that. And money was the center of it, but not the harshest worry. Let's see, you met Bob early in my first year of teaching. That was when he was in the tenth grade, and Vi was in the fifth. I was in the third grade, of course. They went on, but I didn't. The year before was the nadir. I was finishing up my teaching certificate."
"I'd already taught art in New York, but there were two art teachers in this county laid off or teaching other subjects for each one still employed. The first year we were here, we paid down our debt by six thousand dollars. That was nowhere near ten percent. I needed to have a salary, but Russ's position kept me out of most of the labor market. The wife of the president of Brewster Office Equipment could no more work as a secretary than she could work as a cleaning woman.
"So I needed to teach, so I needed some more courses to allow me to teach grade school in this state. That meant more money going out. And when I needed a car for my student teaching, that was the last straw. I finally financed it on *my* credit record, since Russ owed everything in his name. We were almost as deeply in debt as we had been when we moved here. And the tuition problem was looming on the horizon even back then. We didn't get into that mess through lack of foresight, dear.
"Once Russ came in shaking because of a near miss in the car. That night, he laughed at himself. 'Why was I worrying?' he asked. 'That car crash would have settled all our problems.' That scared me. Going broke worried me, but the idea of Russ driving the car into an embankment so his life insurance could keep us from going broke scared me to death. I lay beside him shaking for hours.
"Anyway, the next year, we finally sold the condo. (That was a little after Bob met you, dear.) That cut nearly thirty thousand off our debt, besides the condo mortgage. I was earning money. Russ finally went in to the bank which the company used and laid the whole record on the table. They refinanced the mortgage on this place, giving us a variable rate; and we used the extra money to cut down the old debt. We paid about two thousand less in interest, and all that we paid was deductible. Of course, the principal payments took most of that, but still. The year after that, he got a raise, I got a raise, and the car payments ended. The last little bit of that debt was paid off by the money that Bob brought back from his second year of road construction.
"We had checked out the tuition and room costs at the University already. We put that amount into loan repayments and interest every year since my second year teaching. Into savings at the very end, of course. We knew that we could hack it.
"You were rather a problem for us, dear. But when we offered to pay for another year of your education, we knew where that money was coming from. We never offered to pay for two years more. You and Vi talk about the carpets which we sold; leave me a bed and a table in the house if I can keep my husband to share them with."
I hadn't heard all of this before, although I had heard parts of it. "I didn't mean to be a problem," I said. I couldn't see how I had been.
"You weren't a drain of resources, dear. The problem was that we couldn't fit your tuition in with the other two. That was the problem. Indeed, we stopped paying Bob's room and board after the marriage. I should have put the Chinese carpet into your room; that and my grandmother's dishes were what would have gone on the block were it not for you. It just wasn't fair."
Now, I lived my whole life with "It just wasn't fair." This was a woman who once had every reason to expect that her husband was destined for higher income and higher responsibility, but he had a heart attack leading to his income being cut in half. They had put everything that they had saved and could borrow into a risky high-potential investment; that went sour while her husband was lying in the hospital. She had trained for a profession, but the demand for that profession had disappeared. She was willing to pay for the education of her children, and each of them had chosen a career that required years of graduate study.
Any of that could be covered with "It just wasn't fair." Any of that was less fair than most of the situations people describe with those words. (Bob just finished teaching a course in which he required a short paper every week but one. The students could pick the week to miss. Many students, against his oft-repeated advice, skipped an early paper. Several of these got into assignment crushes after taking that skip. Most of them said that it wasn't fair of Bob to lower their grades since the second week they skipped was really necessary.)
Katherine meant that it wasn't fair to pay tuition for "the other two," her children, but not pay tuition for her daughter-in-law. She meant that it wasn't fair to me.
I didn't know what to say. The Kitten saved me from having to say anything by spitting up on the quilt. "I hope that the quilt isn't valuable," I said as I rushed up with some Kleenex.
"Priceless," she said. "My daughter learned to crawl on that quilt. She already knew how to spit up. Dear, babyproofing is our responsibility." I gave her a hug, awkward on the couch.
"Don't worry about college," I said. "I did what I wanted to do. And I'm glad that I did. Besides, there is the French." They had provided the means for my studying that, mostly out of school.
"You've been happy then?" I had been, not continuously or deliriously happy, but mostly happy. I was about to say so when Bob walked in.
"She's married to me," he said. "What was there for her to be unhappy about?"
"Being married to you!" Katherine and I said in almost perfect unison.
Bob, willing to be a straight man but not an audience, ignored us. "The Kitten's next meal is from a jar, no?"
"Not for a while, Bob," I said. "But there is an open jar of beets in the 'fridge."
"Well, the first baby I fed developed brain damage," said Katherine, "but the second went on to become a doctor. If you two would trust me with this one, you could take a little time without the responsibility. Would you want to borrow the car as well?"
"That's the story of this trip," Bob said. "You want to see The Kitten, Jeanette's an essential source of nutrients, I'm entirely superfluous."
"Now dear, not superfluous. I'm sure that you washed the dishes quite well. I'd like to thank you for that, dear. Vi washed the dishes before you married Bob and educated him. He did the laundry." I should thank her for Bob's skill with the laundry. For that matter, I didn't teach Bob how to load a dishwasher. At home, he washes dishes by hand.
"I don't think we'll need the car," Bob said. "We'll be upstairs if you need us desperately." I knew what he wanted; surely Katherine knew what he wanted.
"What's with this 'us'?" Katherine said. "You're superfluous, remember. I'll try very hard not to need Jeanette. Oh my! She's blushing. Dear, after a decade married to Bob how can you still blush?" Which made me blush worse.
How could I be married to Bob and not blush? I was terribly embarrassed by the transparency of Bob's actions. On the other hand, while The Kitten is a darling, she does tend to interrupt at the most inconvenient times. A little quality time between maman and papa without worry about her seemed like a great idea.
"Maybe I wanted to go for a drive," I told Bob after we were safely in our room with the door bolted. It was a fairly specious suggestion. Anybody whom I would want to see would want to see The Kitten.
"You said that I could run things today." He kissed me deeply. I sank into the kiss, and chased his tongue with mine. Bob's hands were all over me, but I couldn't respond. After a minute, he stepped back. "You're tense," he said.
"It's having her down there knowing what we're doing."
"Would you like to go for a walk?" he said.
"You mean that?"
"Once, when I lived in this room for example, I would have given my eyeteeth to have your consent to sex. I'm spoiled now. I want your enthusiasm."
At that, I kissed him with real enthusiasm. "Bob Brennan, I love you!" I said. We got dressed in warmer clothes, pausing only for him to kiss my belly, and went back downstairs.
"You don't trust me?" asked Katherine.
"We trust you utterly," said Bob. "We're going for a walk."
I suppose the outside was miserable from any objective perspective.It was wet and cold, although we were dressed for Michigan and didn't mind it. Bob always insists that cold rain is worse than snow.
To me, at least, it was freedom. I love The Kitten, I really do. She's a particularly happy baby, partly -- we are convinced -- because we are there when she wants us. But...
Even when Bob's home and actually responsible, I listen for her cry. Even when she is sleeping, she might wake up and need something -- comforting if nothing else. "Whee!" I said. "I feel like I'm playing hooky."
"If I felt like that, I'd be playing felt hooky." This pun sounded funny to me at the time, demonstrating just how manic my mood was.
I hugged him, and we kissed for a moment, then we rubbed noses. This is a nice cold-weather hug Bob and I have stolen from the Eskimos. "If you wanted to hug," Bob whispered into my ear, "there was no reason to leave the house. We could have stayed in the room where I dreamed of you so many years. I could have removed each piece of clothing and kissed each new piece of skin thus revealed. You could have lain on the bed while I knelt at your feet and kissed up your thighs to your most secret, most feminine, place. Then I could have kissed you there, and licked you there, and smelled" (I don't think that's a past tense, but Bob does.) "your femininity turn to desire, and tasted your desire turn to lust, and then to passion. And I could have been right where your passion is centered until it turned into satisfaction. And I would have enjoyed it, and you would have enjoyed it. But, no, you needed to come out into the cold and rain."
We were standing on the sidewalk alone in the entire world when someone said "Kids today!" quite loudly. This man, who looked not a decade older than us, was less than a yard away. We jumped apart, blocking his way even worse.
When he had managed to get by us, and we were heading back towards the house, Bob asked, "Did he hear me?"
"I don't think so. Your mouth was an inch from my ear, and I had to strain to hear you." We walked past the house; we had only chosen that direction because the man was going in the other. Suddenly it was hilarious. We walked along laughing and saying "Kids today."
"Anyway," I said, "you can still do that tonight. The Kitten would sleep through it." Not that The Kitten is old enough to be shocked at where Papa kisses Maman.
"But that would interfere with what I had planned for tonight."
"What is it with you on these trips home?" Bob is a sex maniac, but less of one than he was ten years ago. We seldom have matinees in our own home.
"Ah love. Once upon a time, I lay in that room night after night. Afternoon after afternoon, for that matter. I lusted after you, totally unrequited."
"Not totally," I said.
"Not proportionately requited, in any case. I lay there and dreamed of Jeanette Jacobs. I lusted after her slender form and small breasts.... And, as the breasts grew, so did the lust. All those unrequited hormones flew out and hit the wall, as did something more palpable on one memorable occasion. They stayed there plotting what they would do when they had the opportunity. And then, years later, you arrived within their ambit. Time froze for them. Every time we visit, they thaw out and turn me into an adolescent again. They fly out of the walls and back into my bloodstream, leaving me helpless to do anything save fulfill the lust that has waited decades."
"How did you manage," I asked "to kiss the Blarney stone without ever visiting Ireland?"
"It is sober truth." However, he did follow up with a more prosaic description of his desire for me when we were going together and feeling out our relationship -- if you'll excuse the double entendre.
This is a story he's told before, but I remain fascinated. I don't know if it is a matter of boys versus girls or merely of Bob versus Jeanette. I was interested in Bob, and interested in my body. But those interests remained distinct for much longer than Bob says his did. (Somehow, also, Bob's reminiscences omit those picture magazines that still live in three boxes, one in our apartment, and two in his parents' garage.)
I'm glad we have a daughter. Fifteen years from now, I'll know what she is thinking; that would never be true of a son. But I'm not even sure about our daughter. I would *never* inflict my upbringing on her, but is the greater openness that we already show around her going to continue? Will it make her into a little Bob instead of a little Jeanette? And the next baby, will it be a boy? Will we ever have one?
"Why so pensive?" Bob asked.
"Oh Bob, hug me. Bystanders be damned." He did. His puns are execrable, his vocabulary can make me blush, he thinks that passing gas is funny, his version of vacuuming a carpet doesn't make it worthwhile to plug in the machine, he can out-stubborn a cat without even trying. He will, however, hug me when I need it without my telling him why I need it. And no, you can't have him.
"Everything will be fine," he said. But I was chilled, and we turned back. "You know," he said, "not here, but back home, we could arrange a time for me to watch The Kitten while you went out. Saturdays, maybe."
"I'll think about it," I said. But what I really thought about was the hostage that we had given to fortune.
She was in Katherine's lap when we got back. Katherine was playing patty-cake with The Kitten's *feet*. Neither of them needed us at all, and we slunk off into the kitchen to start lunch. "I should do it," said Katherine, not terribly convincingly. It was nearly three. Katherine, an organized soul if there ever was one, had the week's menu on the refrigerator. Bob stirred up cream of tomato soup, while I made the toasted cheese sandwiches.
When lunch was on the kitchen table, my daughter finally deigned to notice me. She wouldn't be anywhere but in my lap. Bob finally had mercy on me and held a sandwich up to my mouth so I could eat.
Brennans talk. Bob is the champion, but not by much. Over lunch, we talked about The Kitten's development, minor illnesses, and major charms. Bob and Katherine talked about the recent weather patterns and whether these cast doubt on (Katherine) or supported (Bob) the idea of global warming.
While Katherine cooked dinner, Bob and I sat in the kitchen with her and listened. She reported every deed of The Kitten's time with her. She told stories of Vi's babyhood, which I had heard before, and Bob's, which I hadn't. "Oh, Mom," said Bob.
"Hush," I said. "This is fascinating." Encouraged, although a little put off her cooking stride by the interruption, Katherine filled me in on Bob-before-I-met-him, including parts of grade school.
When Bob's father got home, he was disappointed to find The Kitten in her late-afternoon fussy time. After I had fed her, however, he did the burping. "Christopher Robin goes hoppity...." he recited, patting her back as he spoke and striding around. It was so much like Bob that I could hardly keep from laughing.
Dinner was more talk. I dropped out and sat there like a spectator at a tennis match. (Tennis matches are easier on spectators, though. Only one person hits the ball at a time.)
The Kitten deigned to visit Grandpa for an hour, but then wanted the familiarity of Maman. As the time approached for The Kitten's last feeding, Bob and I said our goodnights and took her upstairs. I changed into a robe while Bob changed The Kitten's messy diaper. For the second time since getting home from the hospital, I had gone a full day without changing a diaper; there is something to be said for mothers-in-law.
"Sit on the foot of the bed and lie back, will you?" Bob said. I complied. Once he was ready for bed and The Kitten had settled down for her feeding, he knelt beside the bed to share a nice long kiss with me. Then he kissed my forehead. "Talk to your child," he said. I have the habit of talking to The Kitten while she is nursing. I use French, so she'll have some experience of that language.
"Ton papa fait le plan," I told her. She took a few swallows, and cocked her head toward me. "Je ne sais rien." Actually, I could make a good guess as to what he had planned. My guess was confirmed when he went to kneel between my legs.
His kisses began just above my right knee. He kissed me while I murmured to The Kitten and stopped when I stopped. By the time her first hunger was appeased, he had reached to the top of my right thigh. Then he started again just above my left knee. By the time he reached the top of that thigh, I was squirming in need. The Kitten, not much appreciating the ride, clamped on. I controlled myself and murmured to her until she resumed playing with the nipple; she wasn't really taking much in by that time. Bob waited through this period, and then kissed my lower lips. While it was what I had wanted, that kiss did nothing to decrease my need.
Stopping licking every time I stopped talking, Bob took forever to tease my inner lips open with his tongue. I had enough forethought to move my hands on Kitten down to her diaper. I didn't want to let go of her because the sides of the bed were too close, but neither did I want to risk my fingers clawing at her skin. Then I babbled on, losing coherence as Bob worked magic with his tongue. I think my last words to her went something like: "Ton papa me baise... Ton papa me... Ton Pa! Pa!"
At that point, Bob stopped completely, raised his head, and said, "Are you calling me?"
"Please Bob. Oh please."His chuckle was positively demonic, but he relented. He returned to his licks and kisses. I just moaned rather than speaking. Soon all the tension concentrated in a point. Then it shattered, and so did I.
I slowly came back together into a blissful repletion. Then a nagging worry intruded. "The Kitten," I asked.
"I took her out of your arms," Bob said. "I'll get a bubble in a minute." I slid back into the bliss. "There," Bob said some unknown time later. "She's in her own bed asleep. The Kitten is done for the night, but you aren't!" He knelt back down between my legs.
This time, he proceeded more directly. He kissed my legs briefly, my mound only once, although that was a long kiss. Then he was licking my labia once again. So soon after the last time, they were exquisitely sensitive.
"Grab a pillow," he said. Good idea. He wasn't going to be able to muffle my cries with a kiss in that position. One hand held the pillow to my lips and the other felt down to his head. He resumed kissing where he had left off. When I tensed, he slipped two fingers into me. Then I pulled him against the center of all those lovely sensations while I gasped into the pillow.
"You are wonderful," he said. "Darling, darling, girl. Luscious and lovely."
"And lonely," I managed to add. When I go off into one of those climaxes, I usually recover in his arms. This time he was way down there. It was intimate, there is no denying that. He even still had his fingers in me. It was intimate, but it wasn't particularly comforting.
He gave me another long kiss on my mound. "Sorry, darling," he said, "but we are going to do it this way tonight." He kissed upward across my stomach but didn't even reach to my breasts. Then he trailed downward again.
Soon, he returned to my center. His fingers moved within me; his tongue moved over me; my hips moved in response. As I felt the gathering tension, I grabbed the pillow. Then the climax seared through me. I don't know what I shouted; I don't know how long it lasted. I do know that I quaked and quivered and was filled with joy. Moments afterwards, I was filled with Bob.
He pulled me a little more off the bed and pressed into me before I knew what was happening. He lifted my legs until my knees were on his shoulders. Then he was moving deep within me. The strokes felt long and slow, but they didn't take him out of me at all. The motion of his hips pushed me back and forth on the end of the bed while they slid him in and out of me. His hands were all over me, stroking, tickling, pinching my earlobe while he teased a nipple.
I soared away again, throbbing and throbbing, seeming unable to stop. "Jeanette," he said sharply, once. Then I kept throbbing until the support of his hips collapsed under me.
When I became aware of my position, I was sitting on Bob's thighs and knees. My shoulders were the only part supported by the end of the bed. We were entangled in the covers. The inside of my knees were against Bob's elbows. "Are you okay?" he asked me. Good question. Nothing particularly hurt, but I felt weak and out of breath. "Can you get up?"
"I don't think so," I whispered. "Can you?" He shook his head. We both broke out in giggles. "Your parents will find us when The Kitten gets really hungry." The Kitten can wake the dead if her needs aren't met.
"I shot the bolt," Bob said. "If you move *only* your left leg, I'll try to free my arm." The second time we tried that it worked. With one foot on the floor, I could move more weight onto the bed. Bob extricated himself, and I managed to stand up. What hadn't spilled yet of Bob's seed drained out, mostly onto my thigh. I grabbed a tissue and cleaned myself off.
Bob was still on the floor. "I think my leg went to sleep," he said. I helped him up.
"You are the most adorable idiot in the whole world," I told him.
He shrugged into a robe, and went across to the bathroom. He came back with TP, some of it damp. We cleaned up the mess on the floor and on ourselves. With all the time we'd taken, I was surprised that The Kitten hadn't awakened for her middle-of-the-night feeding. I glanced at the clock to see whether it was worth sleeping before then. It was a little after eleven. Bob got under the covers, and I snuggled into his arms.
"I love you," he said.
"Love you, too." And I did.
Part Three:
Once again, The Kitten had her breakfast before I had mine. This time, however, we managed to arrive in the kitchen at the relatively respectable hour of nine-thirty. Bob's father got up as we entered the room and reached for The Kitten. She reached out her arms and was transferred. As soon as he had her, she started exploring his pockets, which were filled with stick-pens. "Don't worry, dear," Katherine said, "they've all been washed, and the caps won't come off."
After breakfast, we actually got The Kitten out of her grandfather's arms and onto the quilt. She promptly rolled off. "I think," said Bob's father, "that we'll have a bare tree this year." We filled him in on some of her latest feats. That led to what Bob calls her "fan club," coeds who come to his office while she is there and I'm in class. Which, in turn, led to my experience in the class.
"I haven't got the last paper or the final exam back yet, of course," I said. "I got 'A's on the mid-term and on the first two papers, sort of."
"There was nothing 'sort of' about it," said Bob. "I saw the grades."
"Well the exam was only a number grade. And there was the first paper."
"The exam was a 93," said Bob. "That's an 'A' in anyone's book. He told you that the first paper was an 'A' as far as the course went." Then he explained to his parents: "They read the books in French, not translations, and discuss them in English in class. Jeanette assumed that the papers were to be written in French. She handed in her first paper in French. The other students wrote in English, as the teacher expected. He marked the paper with a *prominent* A."
He was only telling half of it. "He also wrote extensive criticisms of my French. It isn't up to academic standards."
"French academic standards," said Bob.
"Well, yes. He said that almost everything that I wrote was acceptable in some kind of French writing, but that I jumped between obsolete usage and journalistic vulgarism."
"I ask you," Bob said to his parents. "Does that sound like a reason to reduce the grade of an American?" They agreed with him.
"Anyway," Bob said, "he *gave* it an 'A.' She did her work on time, which many did not. She was graded on class participation, which we don't know. Every piece of work that she got back was graded 'A.' Anybody can goof on one piece of work, and any teacher will cut your grade if you do. But I'm betting on an 'A' for the quarter. And she won't bet."
"With you?" I asked. His parents laughed. Bob's bets are notorious. "I never said that I wouldn't get an 'A.' I just said that the grades that I had received so far were sort-of 'A's."
I took a deep breath. "And I'm not going on with the course," I finished.
Bob's parents expressed dismay. Bob and I had discussed this thoroughly, and he agreed with me. He let me carry the ball, however.
"Another thing the professor told me was that I fitted in the group rather badly. My French is the best in the class. He thought that my experience gave me insights that the students eight years younger don't have. They *do* have, however, much more grounding in literature study than I have. I really skipped a level. He suggested that I go back and take some courses at that level, and also some English literature courses."
"It seems like such a long time, dear."
"It really isn't a *longer* time," Bob said. "She needs so many hours to graduate, so many hours for a major, some of those have to be upper-division. As long as she has enough upper-division courses, taking the lower division courses moves her toward a degree just as rapidly. She didn't convince me, however, until she reminded me of how this whole affair started."
"I began to study French," I reminded them, "because I wanted to study something, but also because I thought that my grounding in French had been weak. I started as near the beginning as I could. Then you gave me the wonderful course, and I started over. That's one thing that I have over the other students, I took the time to get really grounded in the language. I wasn't aiming at French literature when I started. If I want to spend a lot of effort and time studying that, then I would be foolish to resist getting the firmest grounding possible.
"Besides, any slowing down on reading literature, (and that is really what would be easier in these courses, they don't expect as much command of the language, so they assign less reading). Any slowing down in the reading would only mean more time to work on the translation."
"Don't you think," Bob's father was speaking to me, but he was looking daggers at Bob, "that you've given up enough for his career?"
"Not necessarily. It's his paycheck, but it's my income. My prestige, too. But I'm not giving up anything, this time. First, I *want* the grounding in literature. All I said was that there is always as much French to read as I can find time for. Second, it is *our* work. When those books are published, my name will be on them too." Bob had fought for that. The books are two translations of French government documents from a century ago.Bob is the editor, and is writing a commentary putting the documents in historical perspective; I'm the translator. The one on the foreign-office documents is nearing completion. The one on the colonial-office documents has a long way to go. When he got the agreement to put my name on the title page, I hadn't cared. Now I think that I might like to translate something else one day, and a byline can't hurt.
"But," said Bob, "is she grateful for all the benefits that the collaboration gives her? No!" Actually, I am grateful. Bob was just pointing out that the collaboration is critical to his career. I hugged him to demonstrate that I was grateful. "Not good enough," said Bob, "I want a kiss." So we had a medium-hot kiss; his parents were watching, after all.
"As long as you're happy, dear," Katherine said.
"A practical point," Bob said, "is that general courses in French literature will probably transfer. Specialized courses might not. We don't know that I'm staying at Grand Valley forever. Jeanette might want to graduate from another school."
"Not transfer?" asked Bob's father. He is a widely-read man, knowledgeable in several fields beyond management. It's easy to forget that people not immersed in academia don't know these rules.
"A college won't give you credit for a course if *they* don't teach it. It doesn't matter how good that course is, how well taught, or how advanced. They wouldn't give her credit for a course in Balzac unless they teach a course in Balzac. Most schools try to be reasonable, but.... Didn't you" (speaking to his mother) "run into that?"
"Not really. Education departments teach the courses required for a state certificate. I certainly wasn't interested in another BA. So if I had the course that North Carolina would accept for the certificate, I didn't take it again. Otherwise, I took that course." That led to a long three-way discussion of the strengths and (mostly) weaknesses of the teacher-certification and teacher-education processes.
I mostly stayed out of it and, as it went on, lay down with my head in Bob's lap. I must have dropped off. Bob shook me. "You're going to have a hungry daughter in a second," he said. I sat up and unbuttoned my blouse. I had to think before I remembered which breast was next, I was so logy. I opened the nursing bra as Katherine brought The Kitten over. Bob looked at me for a moment and asked, "Would you rather be in the rocker?"
"I'll stay down here," I said. Climbing the stairs with The Kitten on my breast seemed beyond me at that moment.
"I'll go into the other room," said Bob's father.
"Am I disturbing you?" I asked. "I could go upstairs." They had given us such a nice place for baby care, and I had ignored it.
"Mom," said Bob, "please sort it out. I'll get the rocker."
"Russ was offering because he was afraid that he was disturbing you, dear," Katherine said. "Was he?"
"No. I thought I was disturbing him." The only person whose presence while I was breast-feeding counted as disturbing was Bob. He keeps leering. I just hoped he wouldn't in front of his family.
"Was she, Russ?"
"Not in the least." At that statement, there came a loud slap at the bottom of the stairs. We all listened for more sounds but only heard Bob's heavy tread on the stairs.
"Dear," said Katherine when he appeared carrying the rocking chair.
"Well, they call them throw rugs," Bob said.
"Why did you mention the rocker, dear?"
"Because she didn't look comfortable on the sofa. We have a rocker at home, and she prefers that for nursing." (When I don't use the bed, which I do in the middle of the night or when Bob is playing his games with me.)
Bob put down the throw rug, softly this time, and put the rocking chair on top of it. The Kitten objected to moving from the couch, but she was happy as a lark once we got rocking. She and I began our usual conversation. The others watched us for a minute before Katherine led them into another discussion.
Given the choice between The Kitten's meaningful glances and the politics of global warming, I paid the adults no attention at all. They had gone into the kitchen before The Kitten was done. "Bob!" I called. His father appeared with a dishtowel draped over his shoulder.
"Did you want burping service?" he asked. I redid my clothes while he politely fastened his attention on The Kitten. Perhaps it wasn't politeness; he seldom looks at anything else when he has her to hold.
"'The KING of PERu, WHO was EMPeror too ...'" he recited. The Kitten seemed quite content. It must have sounded like Papa to her, it certainly did to me.
"You two are so much alike," I said.
"Two?"
"You and Bob." It made sense. Bob had been five when Vi was born; he hadn't invented how a father deals with his daughter, he had learned it.
"That would be a compliment from anyone," he said, "but from *you*." It sounded like his voice was cracking, and his eyes looked misty. I'm not sure that I had meant it as a compliment, but it would have been disloyal to say so.
"I think The Kitten believes so, too," I said. "She is certainly comfortable with you."
He tried to keep her on his lap through lunch, with predictable results. He ended up with his plate, glass, and silverware a foot back from the end of the table. The Kitten tried for the tablecloth, but her grandmother grabbed the other end. "Aren't you glad we decided to eat in the dining room, dear?" she asked. Katherine has had years of experience in a third-grade classroom, and that was after raising Bob. I have yet to see her fazed.
Bob and I went for a walk after lunch (and after he loaded the dishwasher). This one was longer than the day before, and we didn't disgrace ourselves by anything worse than holding hands. We got back while his father was feeding The Kitten her vegetables. "All we are saying," Bob's father sang, "is give peas a chance." The Kitten was entranced. Not open-mouthed, but entranced. It's remarkable that a girl who tries to put everything else in her mouth can get so resistant to putting a spoon in there.
He played with her until she was cranky. Then she came to Maman until she fell asleep. Dinner was much quieter. I nursed The Kitten first, and she stayed in her car seat and amused herself most of the time. We returned her to the quilt for a while. Then she shared the couch with us, wanting to be handled only by maman and papa at that time of night.
"Oooh," she said.
"No, Kitten," Bob said. "It's not August. It's December. Say day-som-brrrr."
"Oooh."
"No, Kitten. It's not August. It's December. Say day-som-brrrr."
By the fifth time, his parents were shaking in laughter. "How long does this go on?" Katherine asked me.
"Until she gets tired of it. She has a toy that squeaks when she squeezes it. She plays with either one for up to twenty repetitions, then her attention wanders." Hearing me, The Kitten decided that she needed comforting. She reached over and I hugged her. "Move over," I told Bob. He scooted to the end of the couch. He picked up The Kitten for a moment while I arranged myself. Then my head was on his lap and The Kitten was lying on my tummy. She made a half-hearted attempt to reach my breasts through my blouse, but she wasn't hungry at all. Then we quieted down.
"Did we bore you with our talk this afternoon?" Katherine asked.
I shook my head. "Comforted," I said.
"She doesn't want to say much," Bob explained. "It shakes The Kitten." The elder Brennans were almost convinced by my ten years of telling them that I regarded their discussions as spectator sports, but they keep worrying that I feel bored or afraid to participate.
The talk went on until The Kitten started to root for my breasts more seriously. I went upstairs.
When Bob brought the rug upstairs on his third trip, I was lying on my side in the bed nursing. "They're very nice people," I said.
"They are that. Do you want me to pull off your jeans."
"Please." He left the panties on (for a wonder) and left for his evening time in the bathroom. He sat in the rocker while The Kitten nursed and played. I murmured to her about the day. He roused himself to change her and tuck her in while I had my bathroom time.
Neither of us was wide awake. Something about the season and the talk and the comfort had relaxed us to somnolence although I, for one, had enjoyed a sinful amount of sleep over the last day. Facing each other, we shared a sleepy kiss that seemed to go on forever. Bob scratched my back. That felt so good that I turned over to give him real access.
Soon my seat was pressed back into his lap with predictable consequences. "Junior, at least, is awake," I said when I felt the warm firmness against my seat. "The lone one surrounded by three sleepyheads."
"He only wants to be surrounded by one of them," Bob said. When I leaned back against him, Bob moved his hand from my back to my front. He kissed my shoulder blade every once in a while. He stroked all over my stomach, a habit he developed during my pregnancy. Then he started to play with my pubic hair. He kept his hand warm against my lower stomach while two fingers just reached the beginning of my lips down there. He pressed one into one lip, and then released it and pressed the other finger into the other lip. Junior, firm against my hip, seemed disassociated from the rest of Bob's gentle, comfortable, laziness.
I raised my right knee, hardly knowing that I was doing it. Bob, taking the hint, moved his hand lower.When he had a finger well between my lips, I could relax and lower my leg again. He stroked between those lips and kissed my shoulder blade. Neither of us was in any hurry.
And then I was. I stiffened a little. "Bob, please," I said.
"Like this?" He meant by his hand alone. I didn't want that this night.
"Like the forest." He shifted, I shifted. I used the opportunity to grab three tissues from the box by the bed. I put them in my left hand. This position works best if I lie in a fairly bent posture, which deprives my back of all Bob's warmth. Junior had wilted a little in the long wait. I reached between my legs to help him in. I gave him a few strokes along my valley to get him nice and slippery (and fully hard). I placed him very carefully and pressed back. Bob moved forward and up in the bed. We were joined.
After a few strokes, Bob stopped to scratch my back again. I arched my back in appreciation, which further impaled me. Bob would stroke in and out with exquisite slowness, and then pause, and then start up again. It felt lovely, not particularly urgent, but quite voluptuous. I don't know how long we drifted like that, but the time came that Bob didn't pause after a few strokes.
His hand found my mound again. He did pause while he was all the way within. I pressed back against him and opened my legs. One of his fingers touched my center. Almost immediately I tensed. He was grunting, I think I was silent. He stroked faster and faster within me all through my climax. Then I felt him pulse and spurt inside me. I clasped his hand to me, everything else being out of reach.
When I felt him start to slip out, I passed him one of the Kleenexes. We dabbed ourselves off. I pressed back against his chest. He reached his arm around me and held me between my breasts. I hugged this arm until I fell asleep.
I responded to The Kitten's first soft cry. Quite awake, I nursed her in the rocker instead of the bed, telling her all about Christmas. I must get a book on French Christmas, my vocabulary is weak on all sorts of domestic subjects like that. When she was finally done, I pushed Bob until he turned over. I hugged him for a long time, neither awake nor quite asleep. | null | Part One | Authors/Uther_Pendragon/F/fat_a.txt |
99,530 | Uther Pendragon | For Him | You have to understand two things. First: I trust my husband Bob more than I trust any other human being in the whole wide world. Second: That is about two inches. We are, as they say, working on that.
His parents are helping put him through school, but money is still very tight. Birthday presents aren't in the budget. For my birthday, when we were both working, he had done my share of the chores -- except dinner -- for a week. He'd also served me breakfast in bed and cooked dinner on my birthday. (Bob can cook any of five main dishes. Three of these are on the expensive side of our budget, and the other two are well beyond our means. There is something wrong with meatloaf being a luxury dish.)
Anyway, that was my birthday, in August. Then came his birthday, in October. We still hadn't had any money to spend on presents. Besides, it's almost all joint money. So I'd asked him, "What do you want for your birthday that would cost less than $2.75?"
"You really want to know?"
"No. I asked the question so you would answer with a question, and I would never find out."
"What I really would like," he'd said, "is a sex slave for a day."
"You want an extra day of games?" That is our word for the sexual variations he introduces into our life occasionally.
"No. I want a day of your attention. Not baking me a birthday cake, and when it's done we have time for a quickie. I want all Jeanette's attention for the full time we both are home on my birthday. And I want that attention centered around sex."
However, I had still wanted to give him a private birthday party. I am a wife, and we are a family. The calendar had decided the question. Bob's birthday was on a Tuesday. The Saturday before, I would start my period.
By that Sunday, the idea of being a sex slave had seemed utterly degrading, but the rest of my life hadn't seemed that much better. Anyway, I'd figured that I would give him more than he asked for. His birthday gift from me would be a certificate offering "One sex slave from 11:00 p.m. Friday until 1 a.m. Sunday." That way he would get all of his "games" out of his system on one day. I would get to throw a family party on Tuesday, he would get more time on Saturday than Tuesday would have afforded. Win-win? Maybe.
On Tuesday, I'd made a special dinner and had served the cake that I had baked the day before. (The food budget was shot for the month.) The cake was chocolate with chocolate icing, and we both gorged. His parents had sent a $100 check which Bob had immediately apportioned into $80 for food and household for the next ten weeks and $10 pocket money for each of us. (Did I mention that he is a good sport?) I really think that he liked my certificate more. We had gone to bed and made love, with lots of chocolaty kisses if no rolling around on the bed.
Although I had hated the idea on Sunday, by Thursday I was both intrigued and turned on. I prefer to be in control of my life, but a one-shot of total non-control was perversely attractive.
Then it was Friday. I got up from dinner and said: "The name of the game is: 'Bob studies real hard tonight because he won't Saturday.'" (Nine-to-five sucks; but it is nine-to-five, they don't send you home with papers to sort into files by Monday.)
Bob really dug into the books, though he took a break in the bedroom in the middle. I washed the dishes, officially his job. In the bathroom, I took a shower, inserted my diaphragm, and made other preparations. I took a broad red ribbon and taped one end to the small of my back and the other just below my navel. It ran between my legs with a bow at a *very* strategic location. I own two robes. One is utilitarian and keeps me warm. I put on the other, which had been part of my trousseau. I came out a few minutes after eleven.
I walked quite stiffly. One sudden move would have freed the ribbon. Bob was in bed reading a textbook. I got a wide grin.
"Well," I said, "Aren't you going to unwrap your birthday gift?"
"First," he said, "I'm going to kiss my loving wife a 'Thank you for the lovely gift.'"
He did, quite thoroughly. I was worried, but he kept his hands on my shoulders. He removed my robe, quite slowly, revealing each breast separately and kissing it before going on. Finally, he drew the robe off and stepped back.
He broke up.
I find Bob's laughs infectious. I had to grab the ends of the ribbon before I joined him this time.
Still laughing, he removed the ribbon. "I love you," he said. He kissed where the tape had stuck below my navel, and then where the bow had been centered. While I climbed into bed, he lit a candle and turned off the light.
For a while, being a sex slave was a lot like being a wife. We kissed for a good long time while he petted me all over. He moved his kisses to my breasts and his hand between my legs. The kisses turned into suckling on my left breast, as the caresses between my legs turned into light strokes across my clitoris. I was ready for him, then eager for him. He must have been able to tell that I was eager. I was pushing up with my hips, for God's sake. Usually, he comes to me before this stage. Now I needed him. I reached out for him.
"Lie still, bed slave," he said.
We don't do this any more. In the first week of our marriage, my only climaxes had been from his hand. For a month longer, he had given me a climax before intercourse as a sort of insurance policy. Now, the only time I finish to his hand is during the first few days of my period. The rules seemed different for sex slaves.
After speaking, he switched breasts. The words, the surprise, the pause, the change, all pulled me back from the height of my readiness. Bob persisted until I was moving again. As the waves hit me, he released the nipple for a moment.
"I love you," he said quickly. Then he sucked again. And the waves took me away.
When I came back, he was tucking the sheet around my shoulders. He lay beside me and whispered my name, and love, and nonsense.
I lay flat. He pulled my hips into his legs in a gentle hug. His other hand cuddled my head, while he occasionally kissed my shoulder through the sheet. We both waited for my breath and energy to return. When they did, I turned my face toward his.
He shifted so we could kiss. Tongues danced with tongues, then lips touched sweetly and quietly. His head and shoulders rose up, I lay back flat, and he resumed the kiss with his lips angled across mine. The kiss was ardent but had only half his attention. His hand caressed my breast for a while before parting my thighs. He stayed on the thighs, stroking up and down on the insides in a light tickle. I shivered.
Bob rose and pulled the blanket over my top half. The apartment was beginning its nighttime switch from too-hot to too-cold. That was not why I shivered, but the blanket was welcome.
Getting between my legs, Bob began kissing my thighs. One kiss on my right leg, one on my left, he moved slowly higher. About the time he got to delicate ground, he stopped to maneuver the cushion under my butt. I lifted up for it knowing that my center was now totally accessible to his mouth. Still he took his time, kissing my thighs and my delta.
I was fairly hot before he kissed the center of my labia majora and parted them with his hand. Then he was licking the labia minora. About that time, I lost track of the particulars. I had this wonderful sensation. Then he did something else, and I had another sensation which was even lovelier. I remember particularly, though, that he moved his hands up to cup my breasts. After that, there was nothing but sensation. I felt tighter and tighter, but also that I was floating a little above my body. Meanwhile, there were pulses of pleasure.
Then, the tightness pulled me back. It almost hurt; I felt close to panic, as though I were about to break. Then I did break. Fire burnt through me. Then I was that fire, flaring with it.Then it was warmth rather than heat; I was swelling, pulsing, warmth.
Then I was Jeanette again, held in Bob's arms and shielded by his body, wrapped in the covers with him all around them. If he surrounded me, I surrounded a very important part of him. He kissed my forehead and crooned love words and love sounds and my name.
It was lovely, but I wanted to feel his skin. My top half was cocooned in the blanket, and my legs were out in the air. He stayed in me, but raised his torso on that pivot. He lifted one hand at a time as I pulled the covers out from under them. After I tossed the covers over most of him, he arranged them to cover us both. I was still on the cushion.
"Comfy?" he asked.
I tightened his *very* favorite muscle. "How did you get here?"
"I snuck up on you while you were distracted."
"Do love slaves get kisses?"
He moved so that our mouths could meet. We kissed with closed lips, then really kissed. It took him a long time to answer. "Only if they are really sexy love slaves."
He adjusted his position so that he could rest his weight on his elbows while reaching my breasts.
"Look to your left," he said.
"Why?"
"Because you are a sex slave, and you have received a direct order."
I turned my head to the left, and he licked my right ear. It tickled, the soft breath after it tickled more, the fingers just touching my nipples tickled as well. I writhed. He was almost still as I provided the motion at our juncture.
But that got to him. He straightened so that he could move in me with deep, slow strokes. I matched him, then had to speed up. On every stroke, he filled me completely, pressing inward until our pubic bones bumped. He drove into me, but somewhere within me a force drove me against him even harder. The flame was flickering again, then flickering around me where I was around him. I reached down to pull him more tightly against me.
He went first. I could feel him pulsing within me and feel his seed hit me. I got one look at his grim, tortured face. Then the fire flared again. He pulsed, the fire pulsed, I pulsed.
When I looked at his face again, the grimness was all gone. He looked like a baby who had fallen asleep full. Some of his weight was on his arm bones but most was on me. I wanted that weight. I wanted to hug him but my arms were a little weak.
I recovered my breath and the strength in my arms. I did hug him. This position is great during sex, but not afterwards. As my legs had lowered, they had carried him out of me. Most of the mess was presumably on the cushion which could be chucked out of bed.
(The cushion is a pad for lifting my hips. Pillows hadn't given the right amount of support. The cushion started as a short board, was wrapped by some trousers that Bob had ruined with acid, was padded by an old mouse pad that someone else had ruined with SnoPake, and was covered with a quarter of a torn bed sheet from his parents' house. It serves its purpose without announcing it, demonstrating what my non-handy husband can construct when it affects his vital interest.)
Finally he roused himself. He gave me a hug back, before we parted to clean up. I dabbed myself; he dabbed himself. Then he dabbed the cushion, and tossed it out on the floor. I moved over to the far side of the bed. He got up to blow out the candle. He slipped under the covers and almost to me. I nestled back into him.
"Bob loves Jeanette," he crooned, "Bob loves Jeanette, Bob loves Jeanette, and I love you."
"Do sex slaves get sung to sleep?"
"I was singing about my wife. It's supposed to make you jealous."
Never happen. Well, it will never happen from singing that song.
He got nearly through two more verses before he fell asleep.
I followed.
* * *
Bob is no sadist. He wouldn't beat me with a whip or wake me early on a Saturday morning.
However, he knows my patterns. As I came awake, he began kissing my back and my neck. He moved back to avoid my stretch, and afterwards I turned toward him. We kissed. He tasted of toothpaste and smelled of soap. Figuring I didn't, I broke the kiss.
He ducked under the covers to begin kissing my breasts. I wasn't really awake yet, but there are worse ways to ease into the world than near-dozing with a husband expressing his love and avoiding the ticklish parts. Bob carefully did. By the time he got down to my belly, my bladder -- if nothing else -- was awake. I could also smell coffee.
I got up, grabbed my old robe, and headed for the bathroom, pouring a cup of coffee on the way. By the time I had drunk my third cup, I remembered that this was a special day. I doubt that real slave-masters made coffee for their slaves, but, on the other hand, maybe they did want them awake. I brushed my teeth while wondering whether Bob wanted me in the kitchen or in bed. I didn't wonder very hard.
He was wearing a robe himself. While we kissed, he clutched my butt through the robe. Soon he had his hands under the robe and all over me.
"Get in bed," he said. When I did, he slid the cushion under the covers. I lifted up for it, but _deja vu_ struck.
"Didn't we just do this?"
"You had breakfast in bed for *your* birthday." This was a non sequitur even for Bob.
"You want breakfast?" I started to get up.
"You got to choose the menu on *your* birthday." It took me a second to get it, and then I cracked up. I'm helpless when that happens.
Bob pounced. In a moment, he was under the covers and between my legs. He hauled the top of the doubled-up covers back over his head and stuck his tongue in my belly button. That didn't help one bit. I started to push his head away, but he tickled my side. In a moment, I was holding his hands away from my sides and giggling like a madwoman. He kissed all over my stomach as the giggles made it bounce. By this time, the bouncing was hilarious. By this time, _Hee Haw_ reruns would have been hilarious. When I finally came down, he was kissing on and around my delta.
"Good morning," he said.
"You promised not to take advantage when I go off on a laughing fit."
"And I explained that I meant that I wouldn't do anything which you would normally resist. You're a sex slave who can't resist anything at all. Anyway, my wife gets kissed here pretty often."
The argument is years old. He promised a week before the explanation. I pouted at him to show that I was not convinced. He pouted back, and we competed for a minute. The game brought me back to laughter, if not to helplessness.
When he kissed my labia, I shivered. He parted the outer and licked the inner ones. Suddenly, I was nearly afloat down there. I blushed, though he never complains about that. Indeed, he parted those labia to lick up some of the wetness. Then he moved to the top so he could touch my most sensitive point. I stretched my legs wide to give him access.
The licking and the kissing and the sucking were light at first. They teased until I reached down to hold his head against me. Then the sensations were stronger, and I just held him there and moved with those sensations. He slipped his hands under my legs and up to my breasts. I let go of his head with one hand to pat one of his hands, then clutched his hair again.
Then I forgot all that, being too busy just feeling. The sensations were slow, undulating, waves of desire. Then they were tightening throbs of pleasure. Then they were jolts of joy.
And then they were gone. Only ghostly tremors and memories of the sensations ruffled the sensuous lassitude of fulfillment. The next thing that I noticed was Bob lying next to me and cuddling me. When I turned my head toward him, he gave me a quiet kiss, and then a kiss on the forehead.
"What are you thinking of?" I asked.
"FRC," he answered. That was not what I had expected.
After he had conceded that both of us couldn't be students, he came up with a scheme in which I would read one of the books that he was studying and discuss it with him. That way my education isn't totally on hold. We'd selected a book known to cognoscenti (or at least cognoscenti in his class) as FRC, after the authors. Our discussions have come to take place in the bed, with him petting or hugging me. I'm not allowed to use my hands until we cover the section to his satisfaction. Incredibly, the system works for both of us. I have some idea of what the modern West meant to China and Japan, and he goes into class discussions on top of the data and occasionally informed by my naive questions.
"Do sex slaves read books?" I asked.
"They do if they are told to. And they had better know their lessons. Roll over on your left side."
He removed the cushion before fetching the book. If my memory doesn't match his, we look in the book. After sliding in behind me, he urged me to move my torso forward until I was bent almost to a sitting position. Then he moved his thigh up between my hips.
With us in that position, he started asking questions about the Meiji restoration. The position was more than ordinarily distracting. Soon, I was -- aside from the direction of gravity -- sitting on his lap. His erection lay between us, pressed against the crack in my butt and getting harder by the minute.
He asked "Which han led in support of the restoration and what leaders did each supply to the central government? Open book." Damn straight that's an open book question.As I paged through the book looking for what men came from Satsuma, he moved back from my bottom. When he returned forward, his fingers parted my labia. I stuttered something just before his penis touched my threshold.
"Keep talking," he said while easing himself inward. I moved to accommodate him while reading every name. He didn't challenge any of them, although some are identified in the same sentence as from other han. The entry was slow, and the further in he got, the less problem he had with the angle. I was in a quandary - were we talking or making love?
We were talking. Once all the way in, he returned his attention to my answers.
"That's nonsense, you know. Iwakura was a court noble. Begin again."
For more than an hour, he drilled me in two ways. I answered questions about the chapter while he either rested quietly within my vagina or firmed himself up by moving smoothly in and out. Sex slaves get a lot less discussion and a lot more fact questions in their history lessons than wives do. Either that or the paper he had in his hand was a prepared list of questions.
"Okay," he finally said, "you know your stuff." I pressed back against him while tightening within.
"Now what?" I asked, rhetorically.
"Now breakfast," he said, and he pulled out and got up.
"I didn't think sex slaves were expected to cook." But my stomach said that this one should.
"You obviously haven't read much John Norman. Maybe we'd better call it brunch. You can wear the apron. Period. I'll come watch."
We called it lunch.
The ultimate in obscenity is cooking lunch in nothing but an apron while your husband ogles you lewdly. He was wearing his glasses and a robe which had a tent in front most of the time. Ten more minutes could have taken care of *that*.
We ate and made the necessary pit stops. Sex slaves get assigned the wife's cooking, but not the husband's dishwashing. On the other hand, Bob just soaked them.
Back in the bedroom, Bob had another surprise. The previous night, he had tied a rope to the legs at the head of the bed and found two bandanas that we wear when hiking. He now tied one bandana around each of my wrists, with all the extra cloth on one end. He pulled all the covers to the foot of the bed, had me lie down, and passed each bandana through a separate loop in the rope. He pressed the long ends of the bandanas into my hands while saying "Hold them tight."
The room was getting warmer, but he covered me with the sheet. He talked about my being tied up. I raised my hand the way I did in fifth grade. (Well, not quite. In fifth grade, I did not expose a breast with that motion.)
"Teacher."
"The proper appellation is 'master.'"
"The proper Appalachian is 'plateau.' Master, these bonds aren't all that escape-proof."
"Injun giver."
"Huh?"
"Jeanette, if you were to escape into another state, is that state required to return you to me?"
"Mr. Calhoun says 'yes.' Mr. Lincoln says 'no.'"
"Lincoln never attacked the fugitive slave laws. He specifically endorsed them in Congress and after being elected President."
"I bet that your John Normandy didn't give lectures when *he* had a slave girl tied up."
"That's a bet. How about continuing this game into tomorr..." Poor boy, reality struck. Tomorrow he would be studying like mad. "How about another day like today in two weeks?"
"And what do I get?"
"If you win, I'll be your sex slave then."
"No bet! Maybe, if you are a very good boy, study hard, and learn to pick up after yourself, maybe I'll make you my sex slave at quarter break."
"Deal." Trust the Brennans in any contract, but never bet with them.
"I said 'maybe.'"
"If I really tied you up, you'd freak, so this is tying you up. Any letting go is breaking out of the game and taking back your gift." He was exaggerating; I wouldn't freak, but then I wouldn't let him tie me up either.
He put the end back through the rope loop and back in my hand. He wrapped the very end around my little finger. "Now keep it that way."
I've seen pictures of people tied spread-eagle. This wasn't like that. My head was near the top of the bed, and my hands were at about the same level, closer together than my elbows were. My legs were together (for the moment) and not tied at all.
The first thing that Bob did was to grab the bottom sheet at the foot of the bed and give it a sharp yank downward. The wrinkles under me disappeared.
Then we had a nice kiss. I understood why my arms were tied when Bob started from there on a path of kisses. He spent lots of time in all the ticklish places like the insides of my ears and the corner where my neck meets my shoulders. When I wiggled, he put his hand between my legs. That being a hell of a place to hold me down, I think he had other motives. He spent only a few minutes on my left breast and none on my right one. Soon he licked my belly button. Then he traveled to my side to kiss there. He had kissed my back, he had even kissed my butt, but he had never before kissed my side under the ribs.
"Cheat!" I say, wiggling mightily. "Vicious, cruel, nasty. You're just doing that because I'm tied up." He gave me his best nasty grin.
He kissed up my side to my armpit. This tickled so much that I kicked my legs, but it stopped very soon. Bob didn't look happy. Now it was time for *my* nasty grin.
"It is called deodorant," I said in my most saccharine voice. When he headed for my mouth, I ducked.
Veering towards my left breast, he kissed his very fanciest pattern on it. That means kissing a full circle around the base followed by a slow spiral toward the tip. He actually had to move on the bed to do the whole circle. At the tip, he played and sucked and licked and lipped. I was getting quite turned on. His lips and tongue played with my nipple and areola. His hand between my legs was not really attacking any critical parts, but neither was it ever still. Finally, he gave a peck goodbye to the tip of my left nipple on the way to the right breast.
"I love you," he said while between them.
He kissed the same pattern on my right breast, but when he got to the top, he spent only a minute licking all over and around the nipple before slipping out of the side of the sheet and slipping in the bottom. He lifted my legs to slide the cushion under my butt. (You can't fool me, we *were* repeating.)
Once between my legs, Bob kissed a line from my delta to my right breast. He licked his way to the top before playing elaborate licking and sucking games with my nipple. His hand stroked the inside of the backs of my thighs. After petting my labia, he slipped a finger into my vagina. This is not something he does very often.
He kissed the breast goodbye and pecked a similar kiss on the other. Then he moved back down. He parted the labia with his hand to lick the furrow between them. Soon he was licking in a slow rhythm that just missed my clitoris while rubbing his finger on the front of my vagina in time with his tongue. These near misses were damnable; I wanted more.
He licked my clitoris once. I shook. He pulled his finger out only to put two in me. They wiggled and turned together, then they started wiggling against each other. Somehow, there was an internal tickling, making me hotter than ever. I felt like a clock spring being wound tight. When the fingers stopped, he gave me a sucking kiss right over my clitoris. I wound tighter yet. The fingers resumed, stopped, and were followed by some licks.
Every time that I felt my climax approach, he changed what he was doing. This went on as the spring wound tighter and tighter. I couldn't stand it any more. "Please," I said, "please...."
I couldn't finish the request, but Bob understood it. His fingers continued as his lips came down. I was being sucked, licked and tickled inside all at once. The spring tightened impossibly, painfully; then the clock exploded.
I went flying into pieces, but I was still connected enough to my center that the sensations there still fed the explosion.
Then I felt nothing.
I was being kissed on the forehead. I was being petted on the arms and hair. Bob was murmuring between kisses, "Sweet Jeanette. Oh, darling. Gorgeous Jeanette. Darling girl. Beautiful, beautiful, Jeanette. Oh sweet. Lovely darling...." A kiss after every statement. You get the idea.
My wrists were sore, my stomach was a little sore, I felt wonderful. Bob was sort of crouched over me with a leg on either side. He had no weight on me, but Junior was bobbing around and sometimes tapping me. I was flat on the mattress without the cushion. The top sheet was gone.
Bob spread his kisses across my whole face while I caught my breath. Every once in a while, he pulled back to say something like "I do love you," in a strangely emphatic tone, as if I'd just contradicted him.
When my breath was mostly back, I moved my mouth towards his. He immediately moved back down the bed for a real kiss. In this position, he was more kneeling over me than crouched. His tongue played with mine before exploring my mouth. By the time he returned to my tongue, I was out of breath again. I moved my mouth sideways to breathe, and he licked my ear. When I ducked that, he settled on my neck. Although my hands were still tied, I could fight back. Junior was about an inch above my stomach, and I rose up enough to rub against it.
Bob swung off me to my right before moving his mouth down to my right breast.He tickled me between my thighs. I tightened these together, then relaxed. He sucked on my nipple. I spread my thighs, but he still played on my legs rather than their junction. Then he stopped sucking and raised his hand to my shoulder. With a little help from him, I rolled over. He nestled behind me spoon fashion while starting to spread my labia for his entrance.
"You okay?" he asked casually. Of course, I was okay. I could remember putting the diaphragm in that morning.
That morning!
I shouted "No!" and rolled over to the edge of the bed. I shook my hands free of the stupid rope. "It's hours over the effective time," I explained.
"Okay. Come back here. It's easily fixed, and the danger was minimal."
"Minimal danger? Do you know what a baby would...?"
"The diaphragm without anything else is partially effective. You are just coming off your period. One occasion of totally unprotected intercourse during the height of your fertile period is much less than 7% likely to lead to pregnancy." I couldn't believe he was saying that. Contraception is important to us. Future planning is important to Bob.
"You want to go ahead?"
"Of course not. I want to treat this as less than a Seldon Crisis." He had a point. He'd asked. He was careful. I started for the bathroom and the supplies. "Lie down, love slave," he says, "and while you're about it, tie yourself up again."
"You think that you are going to do the insertion?"
"I thought it was worth a try." The man's fixation on my genitals is unnatural.
"Juneteenth!" But I grabbed the red ribbon on my way out the door.
Having needed to take the bandanas off to work, I left them off. Before I returned to the bedroom, however, I taped the ribbon back in place.
Bob was lying on the bed when I returned, and he looked close to tears when he saw the ribbon. He kissed me quite gently. He took the ribbon off slowly and kissed both sticky spots. Then he kissed me again on the bottom of my delta.
"This slave begs of Master," I said, "that she not be tied up for a while. Her wrists are sore."
Bob was concerned. "The game was never meant to go that far," he said. "Family rules." One family rule is that any promise that I make is conditional on its not causing me pain or permanent damage. "Where does it hurt?"
I showed him. "I didn't notice at the time," I explained. He kissed both wrists. I remembered that my little finger hurt too. He kissed that.
Before I could think of any place else that hurt, he gestured me into bed. He spent a long while kissing my forehead and face, then got to my mouth. We had a real kiss, tongues playing with tongues. Bob was remarkably gentle for the rest of the petting. Finally, I had to take the lead.
"Do you want me on my side again?" That is the position that Bob calls "a la foret." It is sort of a spoon position -- maybe a dirty spoon.
"Please yes." Simon Legree needn't worry.
I rolled to my side to help him in. Considering that I was dry down there when I left the bathroom, I was remarkably juicy. "Oh love," said Bob, which meant that he had noticed, too.
He took one stroke out and in to make sure that he knew the way. Then he slipped his arm under me to reach my left breast. When his other hand reached between my legs, I parted them to make room. Adjusting his body to reach those parts had pulled him part way out. I arched my back slowly, impaling myself on him.
He began to move his hands and then his hips. I felt him stroke my nipples and my labia. I felt him stroke within. I lay there for a moment just feeling before I met his motion. Then I moved to his tempo. After some time, I felt the familiar tightening that announces the nearness of my climax. I wanted to feel his first. I tried to hold back. I spread my legs and reached back to touch him.
"I can't," he said. That meant he would.
I tightened around him. "Please come first." I've often wished that. I'd never said it before.
He hesitated a moment. Then his strokes came longer and faster. I felt him throb within me and his seed strike me. One stroke later, I was throbbing too.
...
He held me very tight. He was slipping out of me, but neither of us worried about the mess. When we breathed in at the same time, there wasn't room for both of our chests to expand. Though we sort of laughed, he didn't loosen his hug.
"I love you very much." He took a breath. "Oh delightful darling." He breathed again. There was more of this. Very nice to hear, even if most of it shouldn't be taken seriously.
He finally grabbed two Kleenexes. We each used one to wipe ourselves off. Then we dabbed up the worst of the mess on the bed.
We scooted over to a drier section.
"Did you really mean that?" he asked.
"Probably not. What?"
"That you wanted me to come first."
"I really meant that. I've told you that I like to feel you squirt inside me." I like to see him, too, but that position wouldn't allow that.
"You are the sexiest girl in the whole world." He kissed the back of my neck.
We lay like that for twenty minutes or so. He wasn't seriously petting, but his hands wandered. Junior, pressed soft against my butt, stirred occasionally.
"How about you?" I asked. "Do you like seeing me climax?" That got a response from Junior, followed by one from Bob.
"Desperately. It is the most beautiful sight in the whole world."
"That's why you like kissing me down there."
"One reason," he said. "You can't imagine how sexy you look and taste. And smell for that matter."
"You are seriously weird."
"I'm male. I don't go around putting down your half of the human race. Anyway, harem slaves aren't permitted to insult their masters."
"Give the man an inch! One love slave for one day, and he wants a harem."
"I have a harem. There's my bed slave, and my wife, and Jeanette Brennan, and Jeanette Jacobs."
"You never got Jeanette Jacobs into bed."
"I used to lie like this, well not quite like this, and caress her breasts. Feel them just like this." He suited his deeds to his words. "I'd stroke them all over, like this. Then their cute little nipples would grow up, like that. Sometimes, I'd turn her on her back, like this. And I'd kiss all over her breasts and her nipples." He took a long time demonstrating his technique, hands staying up on the breast level. Finally, he pulled the sheet over me and petted my legs and delta through it. "She used to enjoy it too. I bet that she went home on more than one night wishing I *had* got her into bed."
"How much?"
"A kiss." Okay, *some* bets with Bob are safe.
"You win." There were some pretty vivid dreams after those petting sessions. I can remember cursing because he kept to the line we had drawn.
He swept away the sheet while I kissed him. "Isn't it better like this?" He resumed the kiss while stroking around my center. It was a long time before I had my mouth free to answer.
"What makes it better?" I asked. So he showed me.
After a while I was feeling very raunchy, and Junior was perking right up. I reached over to hold him. This is normally a no-no, Bob being afraid that he'll come immediately. I didn't see much danger of that this time, and Bob didn't try to resist.
"This probably won't work," he said.
"Isn't that my line?"
"No. Your line is, 'It won't work, so let's not try.' My line is, 'It might not work, so let's be prepared to try something else.' Big difference." So he thinks. "Why don't you come on top?"
I climbed over him to sit on Junior, who was just firm enough to go in. I took two firming strokes before finding the motion that excites me the most. Bob petted his favorite areas, but his face didn't show the tension that I love to see. I bent so that we could kiss while he moved his hips up and down.
"See if you can bring your right leg back without losing me," he directed when that kiss was finished. I tried and succeeded. Then he pushed fully inside again. He pulled the pillows down near my hip and shoulder before turning us so that these were supported by the pillows. I was neither on top nor side-by-side, but somewhere between. He got one arm under me to pull me to him. As my left leg came up to wrap around his hips, he touched my cleft with his free hand.
This was not a position for rambunctiousness. We swayed or rolled an inch side to side. His hips drove him into me and back out no more than half that. We kissed.
"Are you comfy for a long period?" he asked. I nodded. "This is lovely, you know. Enough of your weight to feel it. Butt in my left hand." He squeezed, and I tensed the muscle in greeting. "The right hand can reach a breast." He did so and rolled the nipple with his thumb. "Or it can go to more sensitive areas yet." He left it on the breast, though. "Your lovely legs are pressed into mine, and my most sensitive part is immersed in your wet warmth." We lay there for a while making only small motions. We kissed again.
"Ah love," he resumed. "I used to lie in my bed and dream of driving into you. You were wrong about my never getting Jeanette Jacobs into that bed. There were few nights when she didn't visit my dreams. I would imagine stabbing my hardness into your softness and galloping to a mutual orgasm. Never did I dream that the greater pleasure would be to float like this with you against me as well as around me and writhe forever.But forever ran out. I shoved against him harder than he was shoving against me. He reached around my hip to touch my labia. I tensed and pressed against him as he followed that path to its top. As he neared the clitoris, I clenched around him while pressing to take another millimeter in. He gasped in my mouth. He stroked my clitoris a few times, and everything came together.
And then everything came apart.
"Oh love," said Bob. Somehow I heard it though I could sense nothing else but pulsing, soaring joy. "Darling girl. Sweetheart. Dearest. Beautiful Jeanette. That's right...." Slowly, I came back. My eyes were inches from his face. He had the widest grin that I have ever seen. He was still talking. "Darling. Oh Jeanette. Oh love. If I could tell you. Gorgeous sweetheart...." I lay half on him while he hugged me, a warm hand on my back, a tight pull on my hips. He pulled the sheet over me. He had come out, but I felt no drips. He kept murmuring.
...
When my breath came back, I kissed him, partly to express my love for him, partly to shut him up. The second part didn't work.
"What would you say to meatloaf for dinner tonight?"
"That it would be followed by crackers and peanut butter for the next two weeks."
"Silly! Why did you think I needed extra pocket money? I have the fixings already. Can you do the veggies and...?"
"Starting?" The darling needed "pocket money" for a dinner treat for the two of us.
"Why don't I go first?" We share many things, but kitchen work space isn't one of them.
"Can I dress for dinner?" I asked.
"Not a memsahib if you don't?"
"May I wear clothes?"
"Anything for such a sexy woman." That wasn't what he had said at lunch.
While he prepared the main course, I showered and dressed. We normally bathed in the morning; on occasions that we felt grungy or wanted to be especially romantic, after dinner. This time, I needed a shower. I also renewed the contraceptive. I could tell that this evening wasn't done. I took my time while listening with half an ear. When I heard the oven door close, I returned to the kitchen. The rest of the dinner wouldn't take much time, and there was plenty of time for a kiss. You would think that the preceding ten hours would have sated a satyr. Bob, however, kneaded my rump as if he'd just returned from two weeks in a monastery.
I finally waved him away to his shower. Rice, green beans, and apple sauce for fruit-dessert don't take long to fix. I wiped off the table and set it. The timer dinged to announce the piece-de-resistance. Bob returned newly shaven in time for the dishing up.
Bob rattled off, "For the bounty you have set before us and the love you have placed within us, we give you thanks, O Lord." Our eyes expressed pleasures in food and company that our full mouths are too polite to utter.
"Do you want to continue after dinner?" Bob asked.
"I'm not an Indian giver." Actually, it had been fun. I wasn't about to concede that to *him*, however. "What's the idea of the abrupt end? Worrying about schoolwork?"
"Don't use dirty words like that at table. I sort of think that I got what I came for in that last session."
"Pardon me," I said, "but I thought that in the last session you did *not* climax."
"Darling, delightful sweetheart, *you* did. And I was there. I was there for a complete Jeanette orgasm all around me and right in front of my eyes. Did I tell you that your orgasms are the most beautiful sights in the world?"
"Or words to that effect."
"Well, they really are beautiful. They really are. But that doesn't compare to the feel of you around me when you come. That was the most sensual experience of my life; it compares with our wedding night and that time in the forest."
By this time, I was almost in tears. We finished the dinner in silence. I, at least, was too deep in thought to give the luxury the attention it deserved.
I put the left-over meatloaf and the jar of apple sauce in the refrigerator. Bob, who doesn't believe in leftovers, finished the non-treats. He started the dishes while I returned to the room. By this time, the apartment was in the too-warm phase. I stripped and got into bed. I carefully draped the ribbon over me, the bow in nearly its old position, the ribbon curled over my hips. Lying there, I thought of a man who split *his* gift into pocket money for each of us since he needed his pocket money to buy a joint treat on his birthday. And the convolutions of that sentence don't *begin* to cover the convolutions of my thought. Somehow, the same thing was involved in a man who considered my climax his best birthday gift. Bob makes a lot of mistakes, but he loves me. I was teary-eyed when he came in.
"Jeanette. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Bob, don't ever leave me."
"Not while there is breath in my body. I've sworn that on the altar."
"That's all I ever wanted," I said, "to be married to you."
"Then you'd better get some new goals or your next fifty years will be awfully dull. So, if all you want is to be married to me, and you are married to me, why are you crying?"
"Because I like being married to you." Among Bob's major virtues is that he'll believe a woman who tells him that she is crying out of joy. The truth was much more complicated this time; but I couldn't understand it, much less convey it.
Bob slowly lifted the ribbon from one end so that he could kiss the path that it revealed. I readjusted the bow which had gotten misplaced. He finally kissed the place where my delta begins to split into lips. He stood to undress. He started to light the candle.
"Why don't you put the living room light on, instead?" I asked. He did and adjusted the door to reflect the most light onto the bed.
"I do love you, Bob." That wasn't one percent of my thoughts earlier, but it was all that I could express coherently.
"I love you too. From the day I first saw you."
We got into a good position for a quiet kiss. When his hands started roaming, I petted his arms. He took one of my hands and put it on his chest. This is permission for any petting which I want to do. He dropped the kiss to move to my breast, but I kept petting and rubbing his back and chest.
As I parted my legs for his hand, the tension rose again. When need replaced desire, I reached between his legs. He spread his knees apart by ninety degrees. I moved the shaft out of the way and stroked the sack for a moment. When I returned to hold the shaft, it thickened. He rolled to his back. "Think you can?" he asked.
He followed when I scooted over a bit. I climbed on top. Slowly, I sat back and engulfed him. I can walk around for a day without noticing, but there is an emptiness within me when he is not there. After I was in place and had checked that I still knew the moves, he made kissing motions. I leaned over to bring my breast tips to his mouth. After that, we kissed tongue to tongue.
I sat back up before squeezing him within me. There was no tension in his face, just pleasure and a hint of hunger. He held my breasts, a warm brassiere. Our eyes locked until I needed mine to guide my motions.
He'll pet me in this position, while I rub myself against him and watch desire capture his face and body. We can signal love with our eyes, and we can talk. It's a delightful experience when we have the headroom.
That night, after I had kissed at him, and he had kissed back across the space, I began moving up and down. "You couldn't have loved me that first day," I said, knowing that I had his complete attention.
"Absolute love at first sight. There you were standing up to a senior girl, back straight, eyes perfectly level, staring her in the nipples." He squeezed mine, very gently, to emphasize the word.
"She wasn't that tall." A few inches taller than me at most.
"She wasn't that tall." I didn't like his teasing tone.
"I wasn't that short." I tightened his favorite muscle to squeeze him while I rose around him. His face shifted toward tension, and he hissed in appreciation. But not even this was going to make him admit that I hadn't been a midget freshman.
"And I loved you immediately," he said. "Maybe I admired you for one minute first, but it turned into love before you could really notice." What I could notice was his hips moving under me. He intended to push himself further in, and that worked. But there were all sorts of interesting rubbing and brushing going on as well.
"I can distinctly remember having your help plotting to get other boys to like me. You were a friend. I went out with other boys, and I didn't really date before high school." Did my voice sound as tense to him as it did to me?
"Remember the flap when I drove up to your house." I'd been a freshman dating several boys, one a sophomore. My parents had been pleased with my social acceptance, if slightly possessive. Then they had noticed that I was a fourteen-year-old whose last four dates were with the same sixteen-year-old.
"I still have nightmares."
"That was in January," he said. "Right after Christmas. We met in September. There are only so many events that could have happened in between."
"You were a friend before you were a boyfriend." I can remember lying in my room wondering what he thought of me, whether he thought of me.
"I loved you. I might not have connected that to the date scene, which was totally artificial at that point in my life.We talked every school day. Anyway, it probably took me a while to see that it was love. I'd never been in love. Emotions don't jump out at you with labels attached.
"I should have kept a diary," I said, knowing that I couldn't have kept a diary. My mother would have read it.
"Anyway, I love you now. I don't want to fight about a few weeks." That was desire talking. Bob loves to argue about anything. The man has his priorities clear: sex, food, argument, in that order. Mind you, I didn't say that he has his priorities 'straight.'
He was getting close. I bent down to offer him my nipples again. He sucked them in turn. When I kissed him, he pulled me to him instead of opening his mouth. He turned us. He came out but returned so soon that it was a long stroke.
"Are you near?" he asked. I was. I needed him to drive into me. I nodded and pushed my hips up. He set a long, deep, steady stroke. The tempo captured me, and I met him.
I watched his face as it tightened into near agony. Then he thrust into me as if he were trying to reach my throat. His expression turned to triumph. He throbbed within me. Then I throbbed around him. Then there was only me. Then there was nothing.
He was heavy on me, and I was happy. I hugged him. A little later, he was even heavier. I listened to his breathing. He was asleep. I rolled him off and over so he was facing away. I dabbed myself and the sheet. I adjusted the top sheet and pulled the blanket near. We didn't need it yet, but we would. I lay so I was hugging him. The light was on in the living room, much too far away to turn off. He snored like a walrus. But it was the walrus I love.
Later in the night, my bondage ended.
THE END | null | null | Authors/Uther_Pendragon/F/for_him.txt |
99,963 | Rob Morton | Second Thoughts | You ever have one of those moments where you were thinking two things at the same time, like you were glad something was happening - but wishing it wasn't?
I had one of those moments a few hours ago. There I was, all hot and sweaty and feeling very good with Rod's seven-inch cock reaming my ass out and thinking that I had made the right decision coming home with him.
At the same time, I found myself wishing I had never accepted his invitation and gotten myself into this situation to begin with.
It wasn't like I didn't know he was gay - he told me as much. And, it wasn't like I didn't know he found me attractive and was interested in "getting to know me" better. In this, it wasn't like I didn't know what he meant.
What was really funny is that I knew what Rod wanted - and I wanted him to have it! Oh, did I mention that I'm not gay? Sorry, I should have said that in the beginning but I have a lot on my mind right about now, like, why I wanted to have sex with him.
Rod wasn't exactly one of those thickly built guys... nor was he the drop-dead model type. He didn't really look or act gay either; I mean, he wasn't acting all feminine like you see some gay guys do.
Checking my own state of mind at the time, I can't say that I was too drunk nor could I say that I wasn't getting my share, if you know what I mean. It's just that right after Rod told me he was gay and what he'd like to do, I found myself thinking, "Why not?"
So, we settled our bar tab and left, with me following him home. Even as I focused on keeping Rod's battered blue car in sight, I felt a sense of anticipation I hadn't felt in years, right along with a rather queasy feeling in my stomach, like I just realized I was about to regret my decision. In fact, I had a chance to just hang a right and head for the Interstate - he wouldn't have noticed a thing! Instead, I drove right by the turn...
CHAPTER: Two
If Rod wasn't the glamorous type, neither was his apartment - it was just as non-descript as he was. It was the kind of place where you'd look at it but wouldn't really see it, you know? I parked my car in a space close to where Rod had parked and, after making sure the car was locked and the alarm activated, followed him inside. Rod waved me to a seat on the sofa and headed for the kitchen.
"Do you want a beer?" he asked.
"I guess so," I replied. The feeling of great anticipation was really working on me so much I thought I was going to piss myself. At the same time, I felt an unnatural calm mixing in with the other feeling...
"I'm glad you're here," Rod said, handing me a cold one and taking a seat next to me.
I didn't answer him; instead, I cracked open my grain grenade and took a long pull off of it, the bubble of carbonation stinging my sinuses. If Rod was bothered by my silence, he didn't show it.
"Well, what's up?" he asked, his brown eyes flicking over me. I could tell he was just as nervous as I was and just as unsure about how to begin. I'm sure if he were with another gay lover, getting started would have been easy.
Instead of answering him directly, I just shrugged and took another hit off the cold brew before sitting it on the table in front of me. I was content to just sit back and see what Rod would do next... which doesn't explain why I reached over and rubbed the front of his pants, does it?
Oh, man! He was hard in an instant, his prick rising so fast I could see the color drain from his face as his penis rapidly filled with blood.
"Hmm," Rod moaned, leaning back a little and letting me feel him up. "A little bold for a first-timer, are we?"
"Whatever," I said softly, unfastening his pants and exposing his cock, which sprang free of his pants rather easily - no underwear. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and began jerking him off slowly, feeling the heat of his dick warming my hand.
"That feels good," Rod whispered, raising his ass up and working his pants down until he could kick them off with his feet. He leaned over to kiss me, only to run into the palm of my hand.
"Don't," I said, continuing to work his shaft with my hand.
"Sorry..." Rod apologized. "I just thought..."
"Shhh." I said evenly, watching a clear drop of pre-cum appear at his cock slit. I leaned over and sucked the head of his cock into my mouth, letting my tongue collect the drop of pre-cum and thinking about how good he tasted and how great it felt to have him in my mouth... which really surprised the hell out of me since I had never in my life sucked another man's cock, let alone put my hand on one.
Yet, here I was, head bobbing up and down on his meat missile, slobbing his knob like an old pro. I used my other hand to gently cup his balls, testing their weight and feel. I wouldn't say that Rod had a huge set - I knew my own sac was bigger - but did it really matter?
I suppose not, as I sucked each of his nuts in turn into my mouth, taking a great deal of pleasure in hearing him moaning with delight. Even as I did this outlandish act, my hand continued to work his dick, slowly and deliberately, keeping him hard and ready.
Having made sure both of his jewels were attended to, I went back to sucking Rod's cock, surprising myself as the hungry, slurping sounds reached my ears. Oh, I was having a lot of fun doing this!
My own cock was raging inside my pants, begging to be set free so I freed it - a neat trick since I was bent over sucking another man's dick at the same time. I managed it, though and my own seven-inch sword stabbed into the air, pulsing hotly with each beat of my heart.
I wasn't comfortable all bent in half, so I got off the sofa and positioned myself between Rod's legs - all without releasing my oral hold on him. I felt his hands on my head and, for some reason, it seemed to infuriate me - so I slapped them away, shaking my head in the negative.
Rod didn't say anything and I could only imagine the hurt look on his face and the frustration he must have felt; he wanted to participate further and I wasn't hearing any of it. He got over it, though, because he was gently fucking his pricking in and out of my mouth...
There was a moment I seemed to lose track of; one moment, I'm on my knees in front of him, getting my tonsils scoured by his cock knob. The next thing I know, I'm flat on my back on the floor, Rod's dick sliding into my mouth and my own erection disappearing into his. I had a quick second to be impressed with the way he took my whole dick into his mouth in one gulp... then I was lost in the dual sensations of sucking and being sucked.
CHAPTER: Three
I don't know how long we were like this, two grown men pumping dick into each other's mouth, grunting and groaning like a couple of animals. All I knew is that I loved every minute of the action, even as I was regretting what I knew would come next. And, speaking of coming...
Rod was oozing more and more pre-cum into my mouth and I was really getting into the salty taste of it; I felt his dong grow a little longer and thicker, his thrusts into my mouth getting faster. I heard him draw in a deep breath through his nose, felt his ass tighten under my hands... and tasted his sperm in my mouth, hot, thick and heavy.
I would have taken more time to appreciate the whole thing of letting a man shoot his load into my mouth - except I was spilling my own seed into Rod's mouth, my hips thrusting upward, fucking his mouth until I felt my cock begin to soften.
Damn, that was good, I thought as I licked the remnants of Rod's spunk from my lips, even as he was moving from atop me. I was still very shaky from my own release, relishing that very odd feeling a man gets right after he shoots, so much that I didn't notice Rod turning me onto my stomach.
A bit of awareness came back to me as I heard the sound of something being torn open, followed by a weird, wet kind of sound. I realized that Rod was putting on a condom and he intended to fuck my virgin ass, something I didn't want to happen!
So why was I getting onto my knees? And, why was I shoving my ass back against his stone-hard erection, trying to get it inside of me? Better yet, who the hell was shouting, "Shove that motherfucker inside me!"
I remember a white-hot flash of pain, followed by the incredible urge to leave my dinner on the carpet in front of me.Just as quickly as the pain hit me, it disappeared, having been replaced by the feeling of my semi-erect cock spilling another load, something I thought was impossible.
I hated myself for allowing this to happen, hated the way Rod's cock in my ass made me feel. Hated the way my body reacted to being fucked, and I inwardly cursed myself each time I moaned with the pleasure I was feeling.
Hated the feel of Rod's hands on my ass as he spread my cheeks to allow him to plunge into my bowels even further. Despised the way he was grunting and cursing as he plowed my back hole, just as I hated myself for telling him to take the fucking condom off and do it harder and faster because I wanted to feel the real him inside my ass.
I did like it when he came inside of me - I was impressed that he kept it up after I sucked him off and still had enough to take my anal cherry. I was letting loose yet another load of jizz as Rod's cock pumped man-juice into my sore backside. Rod was getting soft inside me, but he kept right on dicking my rectum, working out the last of his ejaculation.
Here's another blank spot in my memory. I remember Rod pulling out of me, but I don't remember switching places with him, just like I don't remember slathering a whole lot of lubricant onto my hardness and shoving it into his asshole. I barely remember the funny feeling of his sperm running out of my gaping hole...
But I do remember making his just as wide as he had made mine! I even remember spreading his hairy ass cheeks aside and watching my cock disappear into him, thinking about how disgusting it was to be in another person's shitter while thinking about how good it felt.
The hate returned with a vengeance, too; I hated the way I was feeling, hated the fact that I was enjoying sodomizing a fellow male. Hated Rod for encouraging me and telling me how good I felt inside of him. I even hated myself for reaching around and grabbing Rod's dick and jacking it into complete hardness again.
I felt so dirty and, yet, so very good as I deposited a load of goo into Rod's bowels. I knew I was getting soft, but Rod's ass was so nice and tight, I didn't want to pull out just yet - but I knew I'd have to because there was no way I was going to get his cock back into me if I didn't.
Now I'm on my back, legs wrapped around Rod's waist and he's really giving it to me, slamming his cock into my ass and cursing like a madman. I wanted to just reach up and hit him so hard his jaw would break - but the thought just kinda left me when I felt more of Rod's sperm in my bung hole...
The next thing I knew, the sun was rising. I needed a shower and a cup of coffee in that order; Rod awoke and went to put the coffee on while I got cleaned up. I must have been in the shower for a while because Rod climbed in with me, saying something about my coffee being on the back of the toilet seat.
At least I think that's what he said - I was too busy sliding his cock into my mouth to hear what he said. I could feel the water raining onto my back, hot and stinging - but not as hot as feeling Rod's dick unloading jizz into my mouth. I stood up to wash the excess from my face, bending over a little and feeling Rod enter me - much easier than last night, let me tell you.
Impressive! The man can get his rocks off and keep it up to deliver another steamy load! I'll have to remember to ask him how he does that, right after I bust a nut in him.
Eventually, the fun and games are over and I've got get home. As I drove home, I really hated what had happened while, at the same time, feeling very happy that it had... because I knew I would want to do it again... and very soon. | M/M, cons | One | Authors/Rob_Morton/second thoughts.txt |
100,063 | Count of Montserrat | Simone's Travels 9 Bin Omar Kasbah, Cinema | Yvette was now surrounded by the 3 soldiers. On the row where she sat, the Corporal had left his seat and went to bribe the ticket taker with 20 Francs to not allow anyone else to intrude into the theater. So now with privacy and an element of security, the soldiers had begun to talk to the lovely blonde.
For her part, Yvette lied and told them her name was Chantelle, and she was a tourist who had wandered into the Kasbah. The Corporal, certainly the leader of the group, began to openly kiss her cheek, while the first soldier had gotten his hands under her dress to feel up first her legs, then her juicy cunt through her panties. It was about 10 days before her period, so her pussy secretions were thick and cheesy. Her mouth was slightly open, and her tongue peeked from her lips, her nipples erect and areolas throbbing and puckered.
Yvette couldn't keep her loins still as she writhed, and even looped her left leg over the firmly muscled thigh of the black Corporal. As the soldiers began to increase their groping of Yvette, her inhibitions totally fled. It was almost like she wanted or needed the molesting.
The third soldier knelt in a chair directly behind hers and unbuttoned the bodice of her dress, his hands immediately delving over her bra-encased breast meat. The Corporal twisted her face toward his and gave her a sizzling tongue kiss, swirling splashes of his saliva into her mouth. She knew she was doomed as the men intensified their grope, the white soldier behind her now openly licking her neck as she twisted about in her chair.
The Corporal couldn't take it any longer. He stood and unzipped his trousers, releasing his lewd dusky 9 and 1/2 inch cock. It looked like a policeman's truncheon and was big around as a Coke can as he towered over the seated but aroused French woman. His cock had been growing in hardness ever since they'd entered the Cinema. Finally, he grabbed her sweetly coiffed hair, forcing her face into his crotch.
Yvette had long ago learned to act like she was resisting male advances, though actually being excited by being forced to go down on men. When feeling forced, she became highly excited, even the mingled smells of their male perspiration and her female odors of perfume and woman sap served to excite her.
She was going to surrender to her lust, to that there was no question. Dipping her head quickly, she implanted a long sucking kiss on the plum-tinted cock tip.
Simone's arrival in Casablanca and the trip to the Gaspard Villa Simone was dispatched by Navarre a couple of days upon her return from Bin Slimane. And for her part sadly, she had no chance to see Renault before flying off to Casablanca.
Simone and Mrs. Gaspard occupied the rear seat of the sleek modern Citroen Embassy car which was dispatched by the Embassy to pick up the attractive Doctor and transport her to the Gaspard's leased villa. She would stay with Gaspard for two days while during a time he would be holding meetings on antiquities and geological digs in North Africa.
It was during the long periods of silence between Dr. Moreau and Halad Gaspard on the trip from the aerodrome, she came to her decision to share her information with Renault. Simone had been informed of what her expectations were for this trip. She only had to be a charming and engaging guest of the Gaspard's on a level of lewdness they were seeking, and Navarre's membership on the committee would be assured.
Halad escorted Dr. Moreau to her guest room. As she stood before the Frenchwoman, it was obvious they were very much alike in their striking physical appearance, with Mrs. Gaspard being perhaps two inches shorter than Simone.
Smooth unmarked skin adorned Mrs. Gaspard, her muscled arms were not flabby from lack of exercise but instead were firm and toned from work as an Arab girl earlier in life, more recently from time at the spa and tennis courts as a French Diplomat's wife. The stylish green smock she wore was classily tailored and emphasized her plump hips and thighs, aided by her neat two-inch pumps.
The women were on the terrace having cocktails when Cyril arrived from the Consulate and his meetings. He had never seen Dr. Moreau but had received a glowing description of her and her intimate skills from Navarre.
Adult Cinema, Bin Omar Kasbah The Corporal skinned back his uncut foreskin, exposing it lewdly to the woman, and she attacked it immediately, adorning the fat cock with adoring kisses.
Her pussy now literally bubbling over, Yvette stared at his hard, curved erection as it reared back towards his dark-skinned muscled abdomen from the black hairs in his groin. He stroked the shaft, rolling his foreskin back and forth, so his purple glans showed polished and gleaming with the wetness leaking from the tip.
Yvette began to suck the huge cock like a baby on a pacifier. She flattened her tongue so she could run the entire length of his cock, getting it wet, and sucked it noisily, trying to make him cum. From the corner of her right eye, she could see one of the white soldiers fisting his cock into the open, eager for her to suck him also.
There were strings of saliva and pre-cum hanging from the corners of her mouth and chin as she coughed and gagged. With her eyes tearing, her nose running, and her mouth salivating like a drowning person, she heard the other soldier who was handling her breast from behind berating her in French, "Suck les coqs salope...sucezles! /Suck the cocks, slut...suck them!"
She could not swallow it all, so Yvette swiveled off the black cock to the smaller white one for a respite. So, saliva and pre-cum just dribbled and ran from her lips and down her chin, wetting the bodice of her dress as she began to suck the second cock.
The Corporal wanted more. He let her suck for a few minutes on the white soldier, then he guided her up and walked her to the curved loved seats at the front of the Cinema. Her dress, damp with her spilled saliva, was now fully unbuttoned, and the soldiers slid it from her creamy white shoulders as she flopped into a loveseat.
The Corporal's dark cock looked like it belonged on a donkey, and his testicles were big too as he flopped them out the fly of his tan uniform slacks. Yvette and the white soldiers looked at it in awe. Though a farm girl from Cherbourg, this was Yvette's first man of African descent.
One of the white soldiers sprawled her on her back with a gentle shove on the loveseat, one leg resting on the seat, one anchored on the floor. The men were in agreement the Corporal would get first dibs on her hot greasy pussy.
The first soldier who had entered the Cinema knelt before Yvette as if she were a shrine and began to lick her cunt. His tongue swooping and gathering thick strings of her female sap, plastering her pubic hairs away from her labia and clitoris.
Yvette, bawled like a heifer being bred, "Awww...yes...yes! Suck it lick it. awww!" Her head lolling on her shoulder, her mouth laying open in unabashed ecstasy.
The soldiers were just getting started. The Corporal stepped forward and playfully shoved his compatriot away from her loins and began to twist his shiny dark pole into her. Wet greasy drops of her female paste clung to each inch as he fed it into her guts.
Yvette just opened up, taking the cock head and then the shaft. She felt stretched in all directions, yet the Corporal's dick was still not all the way inside her blonde-haired pussy. He pulled it all the way out and then squeezed it back in. He did it three times before he was in to the hilt. The pretty woman could only lay there and whimper and groan.
When he pulled back, it looked like the cock was pulling her inside out. The wet, nasty sounds of their fucking filled the room even over the grainy soundtrack of the sex movie playing on the screen. On one or two lunges, Yvette's pussy actually farted from the air trapped and banged out her womb.
The first white soldier who ate her pussy couldn't take it anymore. He went and kneeled by her face, forcing his cock into her mouth to be sucked.
Absently the woman gave him two or three sucks before his balls exploded, his cum pin-wheeling in her mouth and over her face. Shiny opaque drops splashing into her eyelashes and eyebrows.
The Corporal was now delivering bone-jarring thrusts into her cunt and withdrawing until only the head of his cock was in her hole. His large strong hands gripped her fat tit, his thumbs raking over her juicy nipples, further arousing her.
The second white soldier just stood absently by, stroking his dick, waiting his turn on her hot hole. The voyeuristic thrills coursing up his spine to his brain were fevered by the wantonness of what he was observing, from the celluloid sex on the screen to public sex in the little cinema.
Yvette's mind was spinning into near delirium. She forgot about everything except the big, black cock stretching her. The Corporal's dick, all slimy with her juices, glistened wetly as he reamed her out. She moaned and groaned as his cock put pressure on her hole.It was long and full enough to constantly pressure her G-spot, stroke after delicious stroke.
The Corporal had wrung three orgasms from the woman, and he still had not come. Finally, he withdrew and went, standing by her neck and shoulders, and allowed her to leisurely suck and lick her juices from his cock.
The voluptuous rounds of her milky-white bottom tilted vulnerably upwards in a way that exposed not only her moist, overworked pussy, but the crinkly brown rosette of her ass. Tiny damp blonde hairs grew right up to the hole. With the area between her legs open, the second soldier drilled into her elastic pussy hole and began humping, starting her climb to another climax. His balls shudderingly contracted at the sight, his eyes fixed greedily and glazed, staring at her hot, gloppy hole as he speared it. Her bottom jerked lewdly about, the cheeks clenching, then yawning open. She was all pussy and ready to be taken some more.
The slightly pudgy soldier rolled Yvette's finger-thick nipple between his lips, nipping and chewing on the thick protuberance. He noted that her buttocks were juicy ovals of feminine flesh, and he hoped they could prolong their debauchery long enough for him or one of his buddies to fuck her in the ass.
The sweet, soft, warm, fragrant nakedness of her pussy intoxicated him, and every cranny of his body seemed to come alive. He was not going to last long. Waves of bliss coursed up the hard pipe of his seven-inch cock.
Yvette's pussy was exquisite. Her fat inner lips stroked back and forth on his gristle, causing the soldier to groan, "Oh...oh, aww...awwww!" Just five to six minutes after sticking her, his senses reeled, there was no room for thought, only sensation, and with a cry of delight, he felt himself burst strings of hot, wet jizz into her cunt.
The first soldier, seeing the heated copulation, groped his right forefinger towards the damp crease between the woman's butt cheeks and wormed it into her crinkly petals of her anus, delving it deep and twisting it about. Deliberately intending to humiliate the housewife as she continued sucking the Corporal.
She wriggled her hole off the wilting cock and scooted to the edge of the loveseat, sitting up once more to suck the black soldier's cock with a fierce determination.
Her hands hefted and gently squeezed the Corporal's fat, velvety balls that sat in a dark, crinkly pouch like a navel orange. Her tongue was peeling the inner surface of his foreskin, collecting all kinds of taste and flavors inside the prepuce.
Yvette sucked whorishly on the dark meat, pushing her lips as far down as they could go until spritzes of her saliva shot out and streaked the black pole.
She gamely sent deep sucks and pulls on the delicious dick, hoping he'd be willing to give her one more frenzied fuck before their party ended.
The Corporal was ready to finish though and go and drink cooling beers in the Kasbah with his buddies. Finally easing his cock from her smeared lips and jerking it from root to tip.
Yvette, dipping her head again, busied herself curling her tongue all over the aching, hard tip of his frantically roused cock. It was the fillip the Malian needed. The jolt struck his prostate, and he shivered, launching his cum load. A flashing rope of silver and white, shaped like an upside-down letter "J" lashed her face from forehead to jaw. The thick, wet lines were almost as wide as a pencil.
Yvette didn't even flinch; she just sat there and took it, shivering slightly. Her tongue looping over and around her lips, trying to suck the viscous offering. One fat, jelly-like dollop dangled from her two front teeth obscenely.
The soldiers left her sitting there as they restored themselves and headed out of the Cinema, eager to drink beer.
After supper at the Gaspard Villa, the Gaspards had dismissed all their staff except for one senior and discreet Arab who was sworn to secrecy about all matters in their household. Cyril stood excited and trembling, as he was at that precise moment, really trying to ignore the sight of Halad kneeling on a round ottoman, her hands tied behind her back, wearing nothing but white nylon panties and wooden clothespins attached to her nipples.
Simone had slithered down on her knees on the floor. She had drawn out his stiffened cock in both soft, cupping hands and was lapping at the throbbing, taut-skinned glans with her moist, deliciously rasping tongue. She paused to look flirtatiously up at him, her green eyes sparkling. She wore a yellow, see-through baby-doll nightie whose bottom hem came to just below her lush pussy bush.
Her nipples were erect, areola pebbly and erect as she took his cock head between her lips and applied a noisy, wet sucking kiss to it. Gaspard's 8-inch gristle extended out the fly of his lounge pants, fully engorged with lust.
Rabat, MED COM Compound, Office: Simone's phone message advising Renault to call her at the phone number of a French diplomatic residence, strangely was not logged in Salma's trusty ledger book. She simply wrote it on a routing slip and handed it to the nurse when she came in just before quitting time.
Having gotten the message from far-flung Casablanca at a diplomatic residence, raised Renault's suspicions, and he decided to get some help. Immediately after work, he hustled to rent a scooter and headed out to the safehouse, wanting to call the number from a secure and untraceable phone. He also placed a call to his DSGE control, mentioning the strange travels of a certain Foreign Ministry intern...Simone Moreau.
The British newsy, Brian King, nursed his gin and tonic at a local western watering hole inside his hotel. He'd just received a new dispatch from his Editor to look into a whistleblower allegation. His employer, the Financial Journal of London, had gotten a tip that aircraft operational costs by the French were a contributing factor to drive the French out of the integrated NATO military command. The average man rarely noticed the intersection of commerce, espionage, journalism, and military matters. But since the times of Napoleon, the mixing of the quartet has been the responsibility for the demise of countries big and small.
King knew he needed to expand his relationship with French officials if he was going to get any tips on the subject of the cost of air operations for the FFNA. Finishing his drink, the correspondent decided to see if he could get a lunch date at the Aerodrome. | null | null | Authors/Count_of_Montserrat/Simone's Travels 9.txt |
100,223 | 3y3g0r | Trust Me | You wake to the feeling of a hand over your eyes and a voice you think you recognize saying, "Shh, trust me."
Thinking you are safe, you nod and say, "Okay."
You feel a blindfold mask cover your eyes, and then feel the straps as they become snug behind your head. Next, you feel your right hand pulled up to the corner of the bed. A soft rope is wrapped around your wrist several times. As the rope is tightened, you feel your left hand pulled to the next corner. It is strange that both hands are being tied at almost the same time. Halfway through the tying of your left hand, your right foot is pulled to the opposite corner.
You know that there is more than one person tying you up. So far, you have only heard one voice. You think you know who it is, but are you sure? Can you be positive?
After your hands are secure, your other foot is pulled, leaving you spread-eagle on the bed. You can still feel your pajamas covering your body, so things can't get too serious. After your feet are secure, you feel the "strangers" testing the knots. You have a little movement, but your hands and feet are secure, and the knots feel tight but not constricting.
Then you hear another noise - the sound of metal sliding across metal. They have scissors. You feel your pajamas being pulled, then the sound of fabric being cut. Very soon, the strangers are pulling the cloth that used to be your pajamas out from under you, leaving you naked, blindfolded, and tied to the bed.
A hand touches your stomach. You flinch, not expecting it, and it pulls away. Another hand (or the same one?) touches your cheek. You flinch again. A second hand touches your outer thigh. A third caresses your left breast. The hand on your cheek traces your lips with its finger. The hand on your thigh slides down the outside of your leg, then up the inside. The hand on your breast circles around and spirals to your nipple. Another hand repeats the caressing on your right breast.
You think of calling out, but it would spoil the intense feeling running through your mind. Are the hands male or female? There are at least 4 hands - are there more? How well do these hands know your body, and how well will they know your body before they are through?
The hands keep moving, rolling your nipples, caressing your inner thigh, playing with your hair and lips. All at once, the hands come off your body. Then you feel the hands at your feet. All 4 are rubbing and massaging your feet, then calves. The feeling is wonderful and relaxing. Then you feel your right arm being massaged. But your feet and legs are still getting attention. At least 3 people are seeing you naked and tied up. Your other arm receives attention.
4 people?!? At least 4 people are rubbing your naked body. The hands on your legs are up to your thighs. The hands on your arms are almost to your shoulders. What is next? You begin to feel hands running through your hair. 5 people? 10 hands. There are hands on your hips and stroking your inner thighs. Hands on your chest and stomach, circling your breasts and occasionally rubbing your nipples. Fingers all over your face, dipping into your mouth, twirling your tongue.
Your body is trembling with nervousness, excitement, and sexual tension. You feel lips touching your lips, kissing you like they know you. The kiss feels familiar, but can you be sure it is who you think it is? More lips, on your nipples, on your legs, on your stomach. You shudder through your first orgasm, even though your pussy has not been touched yet. After you stop quivering, the hands and mouths continue, massaging and kissing and licking. You feel a hand on your face travel down your neck, between your breasts, down your stomach. Is it going where you hope it is going? Just short of your pussy, the hand pauses, sways back and forth, continues down, and the fingers spread to touch your thighs, but not your aching cunt.
You want to cry out, to beg to be touched where you most desire it right now! But something holds you back. The moment would be spoiled if you spoke. Your desire is building, the fingers are getting closer, your body arches to meet them. They are so close, then, all at once, all hands are removed.
You gasp in frustration.
You feel the ropes holding your feet come free from what they were attached to. You feel more ropes looping around your calves. Your legs are pulled wide and tied that way - you realize your feet are tied down in that new position. Anyone has full access to your lower body.
You feel movement on the bed. You feel hands holding your legs. Hands holding your shoulders. You feel, is it?, yes, breath on your pussy. Someone is blowing on your clit. You are almost out of your mind with desire. You can't even thrust your hips as they are being held in place.
Then it happens. Suddenly, a tongue slides up your slit, and as it reaches your clit, lips close on your button and suck. You explode in orgasm. The hands holding your body are not strong enough to hold you in place as your body spasms repeatedly. Amazingly, the mouth stays on your clit - you feel the tongue flicking your most sensitive spot. You cry out, unintelligibly, in relief and in lust.
The mouth lets you free. You gasp and shudder and begin to relax. The other mouths begin to kiss and suck other parts of your body. One kisses down your legs and begins licking and sucking your toes. Two claim your chest and neck, nibbling and kissing all around your breasts and neck and ears. Another begins kissing your face, your lips, your cheeks, your forehead.
You realize the weight you felt on the bed has not moved. Someone is still waiting between your legs. Then, amidst all the other feelings, kisses on your inner thighs. Licks getting closer to your pussy. You know without a shadow of a doubt that you are very wet down there. That mouth is cleaning all your pussy juice off your legs. Then you feel gentle kisses on your pussy, gentle sucking on your toes, gentle sucking on your nipples, gentle kisses on your mouth.
You hear fingers snap, and all the mouths are gone. You feel more movement on the bed, and something touches your fingers. Something wet and slippery. A pussy stroked your fingers. You move your hand, trying to caress it, and it lets you. Then a pussy slides over your other hand. You try to concentrate on both pussies, slipping your fingers along the lips, rubbing the clits.
The bed moves near your head, and a cock touches your lips. You open your mouth and start licking. You are trying to please both pussies and the cock. You feel more movement, but you can't tell from where with all the action. Something wet slides across your chest. Another cunt? Rubbing on your tits? Hands holding your tits and rubbing them into this pussy. All the movement, hands busy, mouth busy, chest being molested. What next?
A cock plunges into your wet pussy. You are so surprised you almost bite off the dick in your mouth and pull off the clits you were massaging. After the initial shock, you try to pay attention to the other people, but the fuck you are receiving is tearing your attention away. You moan on the cock and cum again. The cock in your mouth starts sliding in and out, getting harder and harder. The pussies on your hands are getting wetter and wetter. Your chest is covered in pussy juice. The cock in your pussy is pounding harder. You feel hands push your fingers into the pussies, and they ride your fingers like cocks, bouncing their clits on your thumbs. The cock in your mouth swells, the cock in your cunt swells, the pussies on your hands tighten, your pussy tightens around the cock. All people in the room cum at the same time. Your hands are almost crushed by the contracting cunts. Your mouth is filled with cum. Your pussy is filled with cum. Your chest is drenched with juice.
Everyone collapses to the bed. You hear lots of panting and sounds of pleased people. After a few minutes, there is movement on the bed. You feel lips kissing you, tongues licking any cum that fell out of your mouth. Lips licking your pussy, digging for any cum they can reach. Lips kissing your chest, licking off all the juice splashed on your nipples. All this exploring gets your pussy worked up again, and you cum on the mouth licking your pussy.
After a few seconds, you start getting kisses on your mouth. Sensual kisses - you feel they are saying goodbye. Kiss after kiss, from different angles. Confusing but fun.
More movement on the bed, and the kisses stop. Hands slide down your arms and legs. You start to feel the ropes loosen. All the ropes come off almost at once. A few last caresses, and the touches are gone.
I uncover your eyes and say, "Happy Un-birthday." | null | null | Authors/3y3g0r/trust me.txt |
100,224 | 3y3g0r | Nap Time | You wake from a short nap after sex and roll over to say hello. But your wrists are tied to the bed posts. Looking down, your ankles are tied as well. Looking closer at the ropes, you see they are sturdy 1/2" ropes, looped around your ankles and wrists several times, with the knots way out of reach. You also realize you are alone.
After a few minutes, I come back in the room, still naked as we were earlier, but I have some items in my hands. You see a feather, some oil, and a vibrator. You smile because you know they will be used on you. I set the items on the dresser and bend over you to kiss you.
"Did you have a nice nap?" I ask you. You nod. "I brought some toys to play with," I tell you. I kiss you again and get up. Picking up the feather, I say, "Tickling first, I think." A chill runs up your spine, as you know there is no way to stop me.
I start with your breasts, lightly brushing them in circles, closing in on your nipples. You are giggling, making it hard to breathe. One, then the other, back and forth 3, 4, 5 times. I have to pause now and then so you can catch your breath. Your nipples are standing straight and hard. I start tickling you lower, down your sides, over your stomach, circling your belly button. Lower still, up and down your thighs, inside and out, pausing now and then so you can almost catch your breath. Down your calves, to the soles of your feet. Light caresses causing your whole body to twitch as you laugh so hard you cry.
Finally, I have had enough with the feather. I reach for the oil. Starting with your feet, I pour oil on your skin, and you notice it is your favorite flavor. I rub it in with strong motions. Your soles, your toes, the tops of your feet. Then your calves, loosening the muscles that were so tight from the tickling. Reaching around your legs, massaging all your muscles. Up your thighs, inside and out, with strong hands. Rubbing so close to your pussy, just grazing your lips, then on to your stomach and sides, up to your breasts. Rubbing more oil into your breasts, massaging your full round globes. Tweaking your nipples, making sure they get as hard as possible. Then up to your shoulders and neck, down each arm, slippery with more oil, down to your hands and fingers.
Pouring more oil into the palm of one of your hands, I place my hard cock in your palm. You close your hand around my penis and I slide it in and out of your hand. I move over you, and you see my cock coming closer to your mouth. You stretch your neck to lick it, but I pause just out of reach. I smile and lower myself, cock first, into your hot, wet mouth. You try to give me a blowjob, but being tied up throws off your motions, so I take over and slide my member in and out of your waiting mouth.
I reach down and fondle your breasts while I fuck your mouth. Before I cum down your throat, I move. Straddling your body, I push your oily breasts together around my cock. You can bend your neck enough to lick the head of my cock as it slides out from between your breasts. Twisting your head a little, you can also lick your nipples. After a couple of minutes, I stop as I am about to cum, but I want to save it. I climb off and get the oil again.
I pour a stream just above your pussy, letting it drip slowly down your lips. My fingers follow the path, tracing your lips, slippery with oil. My fingers slip into your pussy, just barely penetrating, and sliding up to your clitoris. After all this teasing, you cum at first contact with your sensitive sexual organ. I start rubbing your clitoris in circles while your first of many orgasms roll through your body.
My other hand has started to penetrate your pussy. Sliding 2 fingers up into you, gently caressing your inner walls. Then out enough to slide along your lips, returning inside your tight tunnel of love. Your clitoris is throbbing, my finger circles and rubs up and down, side to side, round and round, not stopping as you roll through several orgasms. Slowly I withdraw my fingers.
I move in close to your mouth and lick some of your juices, then kissing you and letting you lick my fingers too. You see me move back to the dresser, and I grab 2 small vibrators. I turn them on and hold one in each hand.
Sitting over your hips, you feel my cock and balls on your stomach. I tease your breasts again, one vibrator on each one. Round and round, up to your nipples. Then both vibrators on one nipple, then the other. Then down your body, I slide the vibrators, tracing patterns on your stomach and sides, hearts and "I love U"s are faintly visible on your oily skin.
Finally, I reach your pussy again. Slowly I trace your pussy lips. Then slowly, very slowly, insert one vibrator into your vagina, causing you to cum again. When it finally is in, I trace half circles around your clitoris, close enough to send you through another orgasm. Before you are done with that orgasm, I move the second vibrator right to your clitoris, circling it and pushing you right into a longer orgasm, then arching the vibrator inside of you up to your g-spot and massaging you to a massive orgasm.
Turning off the vibrators, I lean down and kiss your neck. I let you catch your breath and then give you more deep kisses. My hand slides down to your pussy, feeling how wet you are. Tracing your lips. Sliding lower, following the wet trail down to your anus. Kissing you deeply, I trace my finger around your wet anus.
I kiss my way down your body, stopping at your clitoris. I lick you through an orgasm as my finger teases open your tight anus. Moving still lower, I lick your lips and then my tongue replaces my finger at your anus. I slip my tongue around, then push the tip into your anus. I turn on one of the small vibrators and circle your clitoris. As you approach orgasm, I push my tongue further into your anus.
As you catch your breath, I coat the small vibrator with oil. Kissing your pussy, I slide the vibrator down to your anus. Very slowly penetrating as I suck on your clitoris. As you cum again, the vibrator slips into your anus. I slowly move the vibrator in and out, loosening your last hole. Slowly your anus loosens as I lick and suck your pussy. I remove the vibrator and slip between your legs. I kiss you as I rub oil on my cock. Placing the head of my penis up to your anus, I tell you to relax.
I slowly circle your clitoris with a finger as I push into your anus. As you stretch to fit me, I begin to slide in. Very short motions allow me access further and further into your anus. As I penetrate your anus, my finger continues to rub your pussy and clitoris. You loosen enough to slide faster. Faster and faster, I'm fucking your anus. My finger circling and rubbing your clitoris, trying to get you to cum when I cum. My cock swells, and I pump spurt after spurt of cum up your anus. After a few seconds to recover, I slip out of your anus and give you a long, soft kiss. I untie the ropes and hug and kiss you more. | null | null | Authors/3y3g0r/Nap Time.txt |
100,257 | Rob Flem | The Smoke Counselor, How it all started | Yes, I have to admit, I am a smoke fetishist. This is the diary of my practice as a smoke counselor. In the days before all the amateur and professional sites for us fetishists began to pop up in Cyberspace, it was very hard to get enough fuel for my fetish. That is why I searched and eventually found a way to satisfy my fetish. One of my better sides is that I can listen to people. While in my teenage years I was a rather nondescript individual, with narrow shoulders and broad hips, so the more glamorous girls would laugh at the idea of dating me. But I noticed that some of the better-looking girls sought up my friendship, seeing in me a sort of comrade. They regarded me as a minor male, but a guy who would help out with homework and sometimes be their confessor. By and by they would seek my advice in all sorts of things, especially in their little dramas with their boyfriends.
As rumor spread I was trustworthy and also rather "wise" I soon had many girls as platonic friends and even some guys too. It was hard sometimes, when they would sit there weeping their hearts out and smoking up a storm, as most of the girls who would seek advice were smokers, but I knew that any attempt to cross the line would instantly ruin my reputation. The few times I made attempts to date a girl didn't work out well, either because the girl was too nice and virtuous, or she was unattractive. One attempt to sleep with a non-smoker had ended in disaster, as I was totally unable to get my flagpole raised. Back then I didn't dare approach a smoker, and with my fetish only smokers would arouse me. So I almost finished high school as a frustrated virgin lurker, if it hadn't been for a seaside vacation when I had my first "affair" with a girl my age. As she was quite a smoker, I had no problem to spend a couple of hot nights with her and learn how good a smoky kiss could taste.
After high school I hung out in a couple of jobs, but as my well-to-do belated aunt had left me some money, I decided to give it a try and do something new. Why not try and make something out of my counseling talent I had proven in high school? So I rented a former practice from a shrink who wanted to retire and gave it a start. The sign on the door said simply "Advisory services. Seek advice with your problems." and below, smaller, "smoking allowed inside". I was counting on the fact that women were more likely to try out any new trend, while men were too proud to admit they had problems they couldn't handle. The little hint with the smoking part was meant to attract smokers. My goal was to build a reputation of a smoking specialist who would "treat" smokers, especially female ones. This way I hoped to not only meet lots of smoking women who would smoke in front of me, but eventually get around to a bit more then that.
It took some time till the first real "case" of the kind I was seeking came my way, but it came. She was a woman in her mid thirties, a nice blonde, not exceptionally beautiful, but nice to look at. She was about 5'5", a bit stocky and well stuffed. A friend of hers (whom I had quite successfully advised on something trivial) had directed her to me. On my desk was a sign "Thank You for Smoking" and most of my customers would laugh, considering it a joke, except the smokers.
She gave the sign an inquisitive look:
'Is this meant in earnest?' she asked with a look of disbelief.
The anti-smoker campaigns that were popping up lately had unsettled many smokers.
'Yeah, sure. Actually I wrote this, because a smoker who isn't allowed to smoke gets nervous. That's not the best state of mind to open up one's heart. So I prefer smokers to smoke here, so they feel more comfortable.'
'Nice. The first doctor who wants me to smoke,' she replied, amused.
'Well, I'm not a doctor you know, just a guy who will listen to you and hopefully give you some advice on whatever is bothering you.'
'Yes, yes I know that. So you really don't mind if I smoke?'
'No, please smoke whenever you feel like it.'
I would at least get the opportunity to watch a woman smoke. One for me. She took out a pack of Marlboro 100's, the red ones, full flavor. I loved to see women smoke all sorts of stuff, but the 100's with the cork tip had always been my favorite ones - when a woman smoked them of course. She lit her cigarette and took a nice drag, followed by a good inhale that made her chest rise. I had always loved that moment the most, when a woman's chest rose, making her breasts press against her bra, or even better when she had no bra, and it would lift her nipples in a delicious way. She held the smoke down quite a while and then blew a big stream of creamy white smoke right above my head. A nice start, I said to myself. Wonder why she's here.
'This is exactly why I'm here,' she said lifting her hand with the cigarette. She held the cigarette in the sexiest way I know. Her elbow rested in the palm of her other hand on her lap and the arm pointed upwards, her hand held sideways with the burning end of the cigarette pointing to the sky and the thumb rested on the filter end.
'I'm here because of my smoking,' she said.
I must have looked a bit puzzled.
'You see, I'm a closet smoker. Actually I smoke at work, but not at home. My husband doesn't know about it. I'd hate to quit, but on the other hand I fear one day my husband will find out, and then I don't know what's gonna happen. I wish I knew a way to tell him, but I'm afraid he may be disgusted and turn away from me.'
She talked rapidly, like she was afraid to lose her courage. In between words she dragged nervously on her cigarette, spreading puffs of smoke while she talked. She wasn't exactly my type, but still the sight of her smoking and talking was exciting. Time for a bit of questioning.
'Your husband is an anti-smoker then?'
'No, not exactly, I mean I don't really know. We never talk about smoking.'
'Had you been a smoker when you two met?'
'Well, I smoked my first one when I was eleven and I have been smoking daily since I was twelve, but when I met him I was trying to quit, so he never saw me smoking. As he doesn't smoke and never did, I was glad that I wasn't smoking when I met him. Somehow, while I did pick up smoking again after we'd been dating a couple of times, I didn't dare to confess.'
'So you're positive he never suspected anything, but on the other hand you have no idea if he is against smoking, or more tolerant?' an idea was forming in my mind. I knew that a lot of men actually found smoking erotic, even if they were no real smoke fetishists. So there was quite a chance that with a good strategy, I could make them both happy. It was a gamble and it would take some patience on her part, but I was anxious to see if the strategy would work.
'You see, I'm asking these questions with a purpose. If he had been a rabid anti-smoker, you had only two options: he or the cigarettes. But let's hope it's not that bad. I will give you directions on what to do over the next week. Then we'll meet again and discuss what's to be done.'
'So you think there may be a way...?'
'I'm not saying anything yet. You will have to study your husband's reactions in some situations and then we'll decide.'
'Oh, I see.' She was working her way through her second cigarette now and I admired the way she relished her smoke. Even with the second or third exhale after she had inhaled, thin streams of smoke would still float from her mouth and nose. She sure took in lots of smoke.
'I need some supplementary information about your lifestyle and preferences to refine my plan.' I made a mental note to prepare a questionnaire for future cases. For now I would take some notes.
'Do you rent video tapes now and then?'
'Once in a while, yes.'
'Good, I will give you a list with some movies. They all have lots of scenes where women are smoking. You must try to watch your husband's reactions when a woman smokes in the movie. I have here a special one for you. In this movie the heroine is a chain-smoker and at one point the hero, after making love to her, tells her she shouldn't smoke that much. She then decides to quit on the spot. It would be a good idea if you criticize the male character for patronizing the woman, like if he loves her, he shouldn't care if she smokes or not. It may give us a hint as to whether your husband is totally against a smoker-nonsmoker couple, like the one you'd want to become.'
I handed her my private copy of "Millennium".
'Take good care of it.' The story of that video-tape passed my mind. In high school, I had watched the movie by coincidence and then spent a substantial part of my pocket-money on the tape. I used to test how some of my school-mates would react to that scene. To my surprise only a few agreed with the man. Almost all would be on the woman's side, like they wanted her go on smoking. I scribbled some more titles on a piece of paper and handed them to my "patient".'Then you must try to make him take you out to a bar or a restaurant with a smoking section, and manage to place him so that there are women smoking in his line of sight. Again, watch him and try to direct the conversation towards the topic of smoking and especially women smoking.'
'That will be easy. He wanted to take me out one of these days anyway.'
'You can also make up a story about a work-mate who had been dumped by her boyfriend because she wouldn't quit smoking, or maybe talk about whether mothers should allow their daughters to smoke and the like. But don't ever admit to him that you have smoked or that you still do, or you might ruin everything.'
She absorbed my words eagerly while she reached for yet another cigarette.
'I hope you don't mind that I'm smoking so much, but I rarely get the occasion to smoke leisurely. I'm afraid you'll have to keep the windows open all day after I leave.'
'Oh, don't worry about that. I don't mind. Besides, I have this smoke-killer here and it works pretty well. I doubt you have smelled much when you entered this room, although people smoke here every day.'
I showed her the machine on a side-table. I didn't lie to her. The nifty contraption indeed took care of most of the smell.
'But let's get on with our plan. If you think you can figure him out, you can make preparations for the second stage. Only if he shows violent anti-smoking reactions, we may have to meet sooner. Even that mustn't necessarily mean all hope is lost. But let's hope for the best. For the second stage, you will need some fancy lingerie, whatever you think works best on your man. You will also buy a long cigarette holder, but you have to exercise on it. If you have nowhere to go, you can come here to practice.'
How unselfish of me!
'That's about all for now. Call me for an appointment if you think you've studied him enough.'
She looked like she had some more questions, but she didn't express the doubts she might have had. She smoked her cigarette down to the filter, like the ones before, and then she left. I had to admit that the whole business had placed me into a state of excitement, with a hard bulge in my pants. I was very curious to see if her husband would turn out to be a hopeless case of smoke-hater or not.
Next day it turned out I didn't have to wait. She phoned me from work and sounded pretty desperate over the phone. I told her to come over as soon as she could. At noon, she came in, almost hysterical. She immediately lit a cigarette.
She took a couple of hard drags and then said:
'It was a total disaster. We watched that movie and he constantly made negative remarks about the woman in your movie, and he seemed very satisfied when the man made her quit. I didn't even dare take up the subject.'
'Well, that's not the end of the world, you know.'
'Oh, but I will never be able to make him accept my smoking. I'll have to quit, and even the thought chills me to the bones. I know how hard it had been the first time. Weekends drive me crazy when I have to abstain.'
'Now have another cigarette and let me clarify a few things. What happened after the movie? Don't get me wrong, this may be important. Did he make love to you last night?'
She blushed and after a deep drag on her cigarette, she answered:
'Actually, yes he did.'
'Was it good or just average?'
'Well, I couldn't really enjoy it after the show he had put on about smoking, but he was quite frantic. In fact, he almost dragged me into the bedroom right after the end of the movie.'
Exactly as I had hoped. He was obviously fighting his attraction towards smoking women. But I didn't want to blow it, so I gave her another movie from my collection.
'You will have to make some more observations on him, but the way you describe it, there's definitely a good chance he actually finds smoking makes a woman look sexy - only he's afraid to admit it. That may well be the reason why he reacted that way. Try to make him take you out tonight, and make sure that he can see a lot of women smoking. If I'm on the right track, you may even find he gets an erection from watching a sexy smoker in the bar or restaurant. I'm sure you'll find a way to feel around for his buddy without attracting attention. You can also watch this movie and test him again. If you get a positive result, meaning he does get a hard one from watching smokers, or he gives you a good workout again, you come back to me. Then you'll get your final instructions.'
The prospect of helping this couple to a smoking happiness elated me all day. I was pretty sure already the guy would gladly accept his wife as a smoker, once she managed to break his self-imposed barrier down. The next two days I dealt with other more trivial cases.
She came in the third day, still quite nervous but cautiously confident.
'You were right. He sure got hot while watching women smoking at the bar we went to. Yesterday after the movie, he made love to me again and it was almost like in the beginning of our relationship. So what do you want me to do next?'
'Okay. Take care you make it home an hour or so before he is due. Get in shape and put some makeup on, just a bit tartish, if you know what I mean. Dress up in some hot lacy lingerie. A stiff drink might loosen you up a bit, but don't get drunk. Then you hide the lingerie under a gown or whatever you wear at home. When he comes home, make him a drink or give him his slippers and his food or whatever his homecoming routine is. He's not supposed to notice anything out of the ordinary.
After he has settled a bit, you will start the show. Tell him to keep his eyes closed as you want to surprise him. You then slip out, undress, light the cigarette in the holder and pop up in front of him. You can also make him leave the room for a couple of minutes and drape yourself in full pose over the sofa. The thing is, you must take him totally by surprise and confront him with your vampy attitude. The best pose is in profile with the holder between your lips. Take a couple of hearty drags from the cigarette and exhale a big stream of smoke. He may freak out at first, but don't get confused. Instead, approach him slowly and give him a good French kiss, while blowing smoke into his face. You think you can do it?'
'I sure hope so. It's worth a try. I can always pretend it was something I read about how to enhance our love-life. I'll probably have to quit smoking if it doesn't work, but then I'll be sure there's no other way.'
'Well then, go ahead, no need to put it off any longer.'
She finished her cigarette and went away, eager to make her stunt.
Success
Sure enough, a happy woman came flying into my office the next morning. She gave me a thorough hug and a sisterly kiss on my lips. Then she told me the story.
'My God, Mr. Fleming, you are a genius!' she exclaimed, puffing relaxed on her cigarette.
'It happened exactly as you predicted. When he entered our living room and saw me draped over our couch like Marlene Dietrich, I thought he was gonna have a stroke. He turned red and I feared his eyes would pop out of their sockets. He sure was mad as hell, but also too shocked to react. So I approached him slowly and gave him a smoky kiss. He wanted to step back at first, but like a snap, he gave in. Suddenly he couldn't have enough. He wanted to kiss me after each drag from my cigarette. He sank on the couch and dragged me onto his lap. He kissed me through a second cigarette, this time without the holder. He even inhaled some of my smoke and acted ecstatically over it. We ended up making love like crazy right there on the couch. He made me light cigarette after cigarette through the whole act, till he came with a force like never before. I must say that odd as it seemed at first, smoking while he was riding me turned out to be the best thing I have ever done. Afterwards, we had a very long talk. Of course, he wanted me to go on smoking while I sat on his lap and we talked it out.'
Wow, I said to myself, first try, first hit. I was getting aroused myself and wished I could have watched them at it. She went on smoking and accounting of the memorable event.
'He confessed that he had always been attracted to female smokers as long as he could remember. However, while in high school, something happened at a party. He had met a girl there, and they retreated to a room to talk. But then the girl took out a cigarette and lit it. He assumed, wrongly as it turned out, she was hot on him. Utterly aroused by her smoking, he gave it a try. Unfortunately, she had nothing like that on her mind, so he ended up trying to rape her. She fought back well, and he came to reason before any real damage happened, apart from a few loose buttons on both of them. The girl never said a word about it, but he was so ashamed of what he had done, provoked by a cigarette in the girl's mouth, that he swore to himself he would stay away from female smokers forever.
He never suspected me of smoking, but he smelled something about my maneuvers with the movies and the bar. Not in his wildest dreams had he hoped for what happened. He even admitted that sometimes, when we made love, he had to picture me as a smoker to get an orgasm.'
Well done, I thought, mentally patting myself on the shoulder. Another cigarette and she continued:
'After I gave him some hot smoky thanks for his confession, I told him the truth about me too. How I had started smoking early in my teens, how he had met me just when I had quit for a while, without actually meaning to. I told him how I had hidden my habit from him, and how I had searched for a solution to this dilemma, afraid to admit my habit after so many years and afraid I would lose him.'He told me that had it not been for the vamp-show I had devised, he may have considered separation if he had found out accidentally that I had double-crossed him all these years.
She smiled happily, and I noticed that she looked much better than before. She radiated an aura of satisfaction and self-assuredness that had been missing before. Being not only able to smoke whenever and wherever she wanted, but also having her smoking now as a means to enhance her sex life, she could now look forward to living "happily ever after".
'He gave me another ride after we talked, a thing he had never done before. My tame husband, who would hardly bring it up to twice a week, has now turned into a raging stallion. I had given up all hope for the fuck of the century - and now I had it twice in one night, each time for more than half an hour!'
Her words went down like oil. She was making me horny, with those luscious deep throat inhales and her slow, rich exhales.
'He said we'll take it up tonight where we had left it yesterday. I can hardly wait. It's so good that I can smoke all over the house now. Imagine, he told me he actually loved the smell of stale smoke in the morning. He wants to smell my breath all the time! I had a hard time avoiding that, lest he might find out my secret, and now he wants to sleep with his nose in my mouth!'
She had red cheeks from the excitement, telling me all those intimate details. She smoked away, enjoying every drag.
'You know what he told me this morning? He wants me to try a cigar from time to time. Can you imagine that? I'm not even sure I'm so keen on that. On the other hand, I always wanted to try a good cigar, so why not use it on my man? As long as he can take it physically - and I have no doubt about that - we have to make up for a long time of sexual mediocrity.'
It looked like she wanted to add something, but couldn't make up her mind. 'Actually, there's something I wanted to discuss with you, but I don't know how to put it in words.'
Her cheeks were crimson red by now.
'You see, I love my husband dearly, and now with the new situation, he has turned out to be the best lover a woman could wish for.'
She lit another cigarette and puffed nervously on it, gathering strength to let it out. Then she went on, almost whispering.
'You see, I want to do something I know would upset my husband, but I feel like doing it once in my life, just to know how it feels.'
I had no idea where she was heading with this. What came next almost knocked me over.
'You see, I have never made love to anybody else but my husband. Before this all happened, I was content to be a mildly attractive woman with a growing weight problem, and with no prospect but to grow quietly old with my husband. Now that I know I can turn at least one man into a hot lover, I want just for once to try it out with someone else. It has to be someone I like, and he has to be like my husband - excited by my smoking.'
She sighed and smoked away in silence, waiting for my reply. I was shocked, not daring to hope what she seemed to hint at, that the one she wanted to try it out on would be me.
'Oh gosh, you do surprise me. You make me feel guilty. I wanted you to be happy with your husband and not...'
I couldn't finish my line of thought without offending her. She didn't take it the wrong way. I could see she was still ashamed of her boldness. I must admit that while she had looked a bit plump to my eyes on her first visit to my practice, I now found her bulging softness quite sexy. Besides, her breasts were quite a head-turner. Under the blouse she was wearing, I couldn't make out a bra, and still her breasts looked pretty firm and not sagging at all. Hadn't I dreamt all my life of sinking my head into such big, firm beauties? But was she really meaning to tell me she wanted to make love to me?
Her next words removed any doubts, making my head swim and my buddy tear at my zipper.
'I hope you don't mind, but I was thinking that maybe you... You seem to be crazy about women smoking too, just like my husband, and I thought that...'
She needed encouragement. I stepped over to her chair, lifted her by her hands, embraced her and gave her a hearty tongue-tango.
Her body felt soft and firm at the same time. It was an overwhelming sensation to hold a mature woman, chesty and full-bodied, in my arms. She smelled of perfume and smoke, an inebriating combination for me. She stroked my hard buddy gently and said:
'We'll get this little friend some work to do tonight. My husband is away for a couple of days on an assignment. Come to my place around seven. I'll be ready for you.'
She leaned into me for a while, taking my leg between hers and resting her breasts against my chest. We stood there entangled, arms around each other while she smoked up her cigarette, exhaling right into my face every time. From a distance, cigarette smoke can be pretty harsh and even stink, depending on the brand and the gender of the person smoking, but I had always adored the smell of a woman's exhale right into my face. Reluctantly, she took her arms down and stepped away to put out her cigarette. With a last peck and a wink, she left.It was the sweetest sensation I had ever had in close contact with a woman. My buddy didn't fail me. Unlike other times after I had jerked off, he hadn't shrunk, just softened up, so I was still inside her. Now as my buddy turned hard again, she just sat up, reached for a fresh cigarette, and started rocking again, gently at first, but building up a faster and faster rhythm, while dragging ever harder on her cigarette, enveloping us both in a huge cloud of aromatic creamy white mist. She reached her orgasm fast enough, and I struggled not to shoot off, helping her sustain her orgasm. She forgot all about her cigarette, dragging on the empty filter, rocking, shivering, and groaning. After what seemed like hours, I let loose and squirted out a huge quantity, till I felt it dripping on my loins.
Totally numbed, I dropped my hands from her sides and fought for air, breathing in the wonderful spicy second-hand smoke that lingered around us. She gave a last ecstatic cry and collapsed on top of me, her legs rested on top of mine, her cheek on my cheek. I felt her weight on my chest, but it was the sweetest load I ever had to carry. I felt encased by her soft yet firm warm flesh and partly by the silk of her bodice and her stockings. The mix of soft skin and silk was tantalizing. On her breath, the tarry smell had grown much stronger now, and in conjunction with the alcohol made my head swim. Her sweat smelled sweet and milky. For a moment, I felt so warm and cozy I felt I would want to stay like that forever.
Her panting slowed after a while, and she gave me yet another endless deep throat kiss. She rolled off me and put her robe on. We went to her kitchen and had a light dinner, accompanied by more drinks and a couple of cigarettes on her side. I was inclined to leave it at that and go home, but as I stood up and reached for my sports coat, she stopped me. Slightly annoyed, she said:
'Don't tell me you've had enough?'
'Well, err, I...' I muttered, not sure how to react. I sure could have done with a bit more of the same, but I wasn't sure what was on her mind. It was, in fact, more hard relentless sex, as it turned out.
'I'm not through with you yet, buster,' she said with a promising smile. Then she leaned into me once more, and we kissed hard. I took her hands into mine and, looking deep into her eyes, I said:
'Look, you turn me on like no woman before you. I'm willing to go however far you want us to. All I wanted was to give you a chance to withdraw if you had wished so. So whatever you want me to do for you, I'll do it.'
'Aaah, that's my boy. I hope you can stand up to what I have in mind. Now get out of your clothes,' she answered, purring like a cat. I undressed to the skin, and she did the same. All she kept was her cigarette.
'Now I'd love to try something new. You think you can stand cigar smoke?'
'I don't mind at all. Anything a woman smokes turns me on.'
The prospect made my dick twitch. Heat spread through my body. We went to her bedroom. She opened a drawer and took out a pack of Middleton's. I didn't know much about cigars, except that the cheaper ones, like those my fellow students had sometimes smoked, didn't smell so nice.
To my surprise, after she released a big plume from one of those cigars, it smelled very good, not unlike a good pipe. Later on, I found out that they were indeed made of pipe tobacco. She giggled and said:
'Hey, these smell real good actually. Let's see if I can get a bit of smoke down my throat.'
Still giggling, she made a tentative inhale.
'Wow, that's good. It tickles a bit, but it's nice.' Next, she took a serious drag and inhaled again. I feared she had choked or something, as she stood there immobile, holding her breath. But then, after a very long time, she slowly exhaled with a pleased sigh.
'This is the best smoke I've ever had.'
She took another drag, again holding down for at least ten seconds. This time, she exhaled a bit through her nose before she released a long stream through her slightly parted lips.
'I'm getting a little dizzy, but it tastes so damned good! And I love the raspy feeling on my throat, like mint.'
She came over to me, blew a bit of the fantastic-smelling smoke into my face, and then, after inhaling again, she kissed me hard, letting the smoke escape slowly through her nostrils and a bit of it into my mouth. Her bare skin against mine felt much better than the silk. Her nipples pinched my skin in a very pleasant way.
She withdrew and asked:
'How did you like it?'
'Makes me wanna fuck your brains out.'
I was a bit ashamed that I had uttered such gross words, but she seemed to like it.
'Then what the hell are you waiting for? Shove your ass over here and let's go.'
I complied gladly. The sight of her with the tipped cigar and the smell and taste had done it to me. I was hard as a rock again and ready for another ride.
This time, she wanted me to sit on a chair, and she sat on my lap face to face. It was a bit awkward, as I couldn't penetrate her completely. Still, with her nipples against mine, her soft thighs, and her face opposite mine, so I could look at her while she smoked hands-free, made up for it. We worked away for a while, not really hitting the path to paradise. So she knelt in front of her bed, cigar clenched firmly between her teeth, and presented me her backside. I bent over and started thrusting hard into her.
This was much better; I love doggie style anyway, and she seemed quite satisfied herself. But I couldn't see her face this way, so I turned her around, made her lay on her back, and then I took her legs on my shoulder. This turned out to be best. We continued with much more passion. She was ready long before me, and the sight of her biting and hitting hard on the cigar, dragging all she could get right down into her lungs, breathing undiluted smoke in and out, almost made my eyes pop out. I wanted to share the smoke with her. I thrust my dick in and out frantically, and the moment she gave a shrill cry, beating her heels against my back, I pushed her knees away from my shoulders and bent over. As she exhaled, I dragged the smoke in through my lips. It hit me hard, and a climax swept over me like I had never had before.
The smoke had made me dizzy, almost to nausea, and had raked badly on my throat, as I wasn't used to smoking, but done on the culmination of an orgasm, it was indeed a terrific experience. I nestled into her side, hands over her breast, and started to playfully kiss my way around her cheek. She had smoked down the cigar to a mere butt, so she stubbed it out.
'I'll have more of these. They're too strong for all day, but they're a nice treat for special occasions, and they're perfect for sex. You can't munch them up, and they don't fall out of your mouth that easy. Right now, I feel like having another one. Ever since I've outed myself in front of my husband, I can't seem to get enough nicotine in my system. God, how I love it!' she wriggled in my arms, made a half-turn to face me, and laid a leg over mine. Her breasts pressed against my chest, and I could feel her breath in my face. It smelled different now, sweeter and even more aromatic, a huge turn-on. She reached for the box of cigars and took one, brought it to her lips, and lit it.
'You wanna share this one with me?' she asked.
'No, I'd rather not. I'm not used to it, and I will get sick. But I'll gladly take some second-hand stuff from you.'
'You're welcome. Help yourself,' she inhaled, cigar firmly clenched sideways between her teeth, pushing her breasts into me while her chest heaved. Then, after holding the smoke down for a while, she approached my lips and blew the smoke in my mouth. I didn't dare inhale properly, but I sealed her lips with mine. The cigar pointed upwards now, close to my cheek. I could feel the heat of its glow, but it didn't matter. I caressed her teeth with my tongue and met the tip of her tongue. Then she held the cigar with her hand and pushed it a bit inwards, so she had the thicker end of the plastic tip between her teeth. This way, our tongues could meet, even if the plastic tip of the cigar was a little in the way. She dragged on the cigar, and the smoke filled the joint cavity. It tickled pleasantly on my tongue till she sucked it all in, lifting her lip a bit, to allow for air to come in. It was delicious, almost as good as sex. I was with her when she smoked; my tongue felt what she felt, and it made us both happy.
She went on smoking for a while, exhaling through her nose, till we started drooling too much and gave it up. I felt that however exciting the situation may still become, my buddy would fail me, so I thought of the little pill from my friend and excused myself to go take it. The pill had hardly melted when my buddy stood upwards and felt like bursting. I returned to the bedroom, and when I saw her suckling on the cigar, exhaling smoke with every breath, I couldn't help but jump on her and pump her up once again, this time in the plain old missionary style. She was over the top in no time, almost choking from the direct inhales she took, but still hitting hard on that cigar. Finally, we collapsed, exhausted, and I rolled to the side once again.
'Boy, luckily my man isn't such a stud like you. The way these cigars propel me through my orgasm, I couldn't make it long with three of them each night. I feel them heavy on my chest already, but I still can't stop drinking them in. Time to switch back to cigarettes.'
She gave me a kiss and made for the bathroom, cigar still dangling from her lips. The pill worked wonderfully on me. I wasn't tired at all, and my dick refused to go to bed too. I hoped she would let me use it a bit more on her. I heard the shower, and I said to myself: in every other movie, they do it under the shower. Why not try it out.I joined her, and nature took its course once more. It was a pleasant alternation, and while neither of us grew ecstatic, we had our fun. I found it a bit awkward as she was quite a bit shorter than me, so I had to bend my knees in an unpleasant position, but we managed quite well. Still, I didn't find it a memorable experience. That one was still to come.
"You still fit?" she asked enigmatically.
I wondered what would come next. On my list, there were a couple of stunts we hadn't tried.
"What I'd like to do now is more uncommon, and I won't be cross if you refuse. You think you might eventually... well, do it up my ass?"
So she wanted the anal stuff. Why not, I said to myself. She took a can of ointment and greased my dick thoroughly and her own anus too. She knelt over her bed with a pack of her Marlboros handy. I knelt down behind her and gently started to seek out her backdoor with my dick. With all the lubricant, I penetrated her backside quite easily. It was a bit tight but not unpleasant. So I slid my dick in and out with growing pleasure.
To my surprise, it seemed to please her too. While hitting hard on her cigarette and lighting the next one from the butt of the one before, she reached down and worked on her clit, so when I jerked off, she had her own orgasm. It didn't shatter the world, but it had been satisfactory for both of us. We went to the bathroom together and cleaned each other. It was a pleasure to have her wash my still half-erect dick with her soft hands, cigarette dangling from her lips.
"We still haven't tried the oral works, you know?" she said.
I had hoped for that, but I thought it best to give us a rest prior to more exercise. The pill kept me going, but we were both already a bit sore on our best parts. Besides, some tender in-between-play would be good to relax a bit. So I said to her:
"Look, honey, we don't have to use it all up on the spot. I'm pretty hungry again, and we could lie down for a change afterwards. It'll be more fun after we relax a bit, OK?"
She gladly agreed, and we went to her kitchen. Naked as she was, she made us tasty omelets. She produced a bottle of good Californian red wine, and we ate and drank with good appetite. She had been sobering up before, but now she drank more than half of the bottle, so soon she was in good spirits again. Leaving the plates on the table, she took my hand and led me to her bedroom. We lay on her bed side by side, and while we chatted a bit, I started to explore her body.
I worked on her beautiful breasts a lot, licking and sucking on her nipples, pushing my nose under each breast and burying my face in her cleavage. I worked my way down to her belly button and finally landed between her legs. I wanted to give her a good lick, but she stopped me and told me to lie down on my back. Then she placed her pelvis above my face and took my dick into her mouth, setting up the 69. We both started to work on one another. Her thighs pressed softly against my head while I fought to stick my tongue in as deep as I could. She worked on my dick with her soft lips, up and down my shaft, sending shivers down my spine. On and off, she would take it out to drag on her cigarette, then she would go on sucking my dick in, till I felt the back of her throat, then out again till I spurted it all out in her mouth. I had managed to work her up to an orgasm too, so she rolled off me, turned around, and then smoked peacefully with her face close to mine. She blew the smoke right over my face each time. I decided to take a drag myself. The notion of sharing a cigarette after sex with her seemed appealing. I must admit the smoke felt really good. I could understand now why she loved to smoke. It was very relaxing. From then on, I have often shared a cigarette with a woman after sex. It seemed like the perfect conclusion.
I spent the next day in bed, tormented by the worst hangover I had ever known. I would never ever try that damn pill again. Who the hell wants to screw ten times in a row? Two or three good workouts with the right person were more than plentiful for one night. Still, I didn't throw them away. | null | File #1 My first real case of smoke counseling | Authors/RobFlem_Smoking/TheSmokeCounsellor-InTheBeginning.txt |
100,392 | Omicronthetas_Argos | Crown Of Thorns | You know, things just aren't right with the world. Thoughts raced through my mind as I felt the pain in my ribs. I closed my left eye because it hurt too much to open it. This did not stop the beating. I received blow after blow. It never changed. A small transgression and I would be pounded into a pulp in the name of discipline.
"I'll teach you, you son of a bitch." My dad constantly yelled at me. For anything and nothing. He really didn't get drunk. I hear that's what brings on beatings. Well, not with me. I could feel myself rising into the air, by now I had closed both my eyes. We were moving, and then I could feel myself flying through the air. The impact wasn't so bad; the floor broke my fall. The door slammed shut and I could hear him stalk off. I lay there, in a heap of pain. One eye swollen shut, the other bruised but still functional. My ribs hurt along with everything else. I felt content to lie there on the floor.
Did this happen to every child? I don't think so, just me. I guess now, you're just dying to know me. My name is Julian Cross. Unlike my brothers, I am small for my age of 15. They are all huge guys, like 6'4" and in the 200s, weight-wise. All of them football players. I, on the other hand, was the ugly duckling. I guess I was more like my mother. I am 5'4" and 125 lbs. I act and play the ocarina. That is probably an instrument that you have never heard of. Well, it is an ancient medieval flute instrument. Made of clay. It is really cool. Well, because there is no way in hell that my dad would ever pay for lessons or buy one for me, I bought one myself and learned to play it myself. I went to the renaissance fair with my mother a few years back and found it. I collect them now. And if I do say so myself, I am pretty good at it. I approached the band headmaster and he has opened a spot for it. I had to keep it hidden for years. My dad would never approve, and my brothers would crush it just to get me angry. I busy myself with many extracurricular activities to spend as much time at school as possible. It works. I don't get beat, and I stay away from my dad. He doesn't give two shits if I live or die, so it makes no difference to him where I am as long as I am home before my curfew. I don't get that, doesn't want me around, yet gives me a curfew.
I know, you are all dying to get to the story, but I just want to get all this shit off my chest. Besides, it explains my situation. I have made a few friends, but I keep them at bay. If they get too close, they might find out where I get the bruises and might even want to come over. It has never come to that. I don't have a lot of friends as a consequence. It probably would help to know that my mother died in a car accident two years ago in '98. I lived without a scratch on me. Dad and my brother blame me. Let's just compound this with the fact that I am gay. Ha, isn't that a trip. If I ever let that slip, it would be another reason to beat me; in fact, I think that they would blow my head off. Basically, I am a closed book. I don't open for anyone and I never have.
So, I lie there, in serious pain, probably with internal bleeding and all that medical shit. Do I expect anyone to care? Not really. After an hour or so, in my heap, I struggle to get up. I trudge to my closet and pull out the ace bandage I swiped from the nurse's station at school and wrapped it around my torso. I usually have to do this; it has become a custom of mine. With more supplies that I swiped, I cleaned the bleeding wound on my lip and put an instant ice on my swollen eye. I slowly pulled off the rest of my clothes and lie in bed awake and in pain.
So yeah, things weren't fair. I would now face a Saturday of rest and a Sunday of backbreaking work. My dad gave me a break on Saturdays because he doesn't want to be caught with child abuse. But on Sundays, it was all work. My brothers would practice, and I would clean.
I envied my friends. They would have perfect lives, and I would have to fake mine. During Christmas, they would talk about all the cool presents they got - a DVD player, a computer, a bike. I would pretend that I got those things, but in reality, I would have the privilege of a meal instead of scraps, and maybe a pair of socks. Painful tears began to roll down my face.
Why not call the cops or run away? Well, my dad is the only family I have, and to where? My choices are a foster home or stay with my family. My brothers would kill me, and as soon as my dad got free, he would too, if my brothers didn't finish me off first. I am alone in this struggle. I slowly fell asleep.
Each night I had the same dream. A strong guy my age would carry me from my sorrow and pain into love. He would hold me, like it was meant to be. The only contact between us would be gentle touches and gentle words. There wasn't even sex involved in this dream. Just love and caring. We would sleep, and he would protect me as we drifted off.
I woke up with a start. I actually smiled; there, in my sleep, I was truly happy. The world awakened was a different story. I looked at my clock, 12:00 noon. I pulled myself from my bed and walked up to my mirror. I flinched at the reflection before me. A bandage around my torso, a fat lip, bruises across the board. The swelling in my eye went down considerably. I could open it, and that is a good sign. I sunk into the chair sitting in the corner and looked out the window.
I reflected on my dream. I recall what the guy looked like. He was my age with golden hair and emerald eyes. He was a god. Built, defined, but had a gentleness to him. My age with a deep tan, and a smile that could cure wounds. My dream guy. I could see kids playing in the park. How much I wished that I could go out there and enjoy these last days of fall. But questions would be asked. I broke another ice pack and reapplied it to my face. I slumped in the chair and let time slip by. I had nothing to do really. Eventually, I picked up the book I was reading. I had to hide that too. Fantasy novels always took me away. I could really be there and do the things that the characters did. Fight dragons and go on adventures. I wish so much.
The day slipped by, and soon the sun sank below the horizon. I went to bed early, I knew what was coming the next day. I was going to get plenty of sleep. Like on schedule, I was woken at 6:00 in the morning and told to clean the house and take care of the yard. My father went back to sleep. I started my weekly cleaning. Early on, I cleaned the den; they would be using that to watch football. This day too seemed to go fast, and I went to bed exhausted, but not before finishing my homework. Ahh, what a life of mine."So, why would you lie to me?"
I couldn't hold it together. Danny was my best friend, and I lied to him. Over and over. "Danny, I am so sorry, please be a friend and understand this. If I told you, you would be obligated to do something about it. It would destroy everything that I know...my life."
"Ohh." I guess that was all he could say on the subject. The mood was too down for, "so how'd you like the football game," as if that would have helped. We just walked in silence to the theater. Play practice was great. It got my mind off my problems. We were performing "Little Shop of Horrors." I played Seymour Krelborn, the lead role. Danny played Mr. Mushnik. We performed great together on most days. Today was not one of those days.
"What is with you two today? Where is the," and with a physical motion, "Pazzaz?"
"Sorry, Mr. Jenks. It has been a rough day," I said.
"What if you have a rough day on show night?"
"I'll get over it. But tonight is not show night." He looked defeated.
"Alright, take five, then we will do the prologue. At least then we can get some work done. Jess, Naine, Angela, here, now." Mr. Jenks was one of those theater people with a commando aspect, but he was cool.
"Nice going, dillweed," Danny confronted me.
"Yeah, well you weren't that hot either."
"Still, you could have put a little 'pazzaz' in it." I tried to stay angry with him, but when he said "pazzaz," I fell apart. I just cracked up. It was a good laugh, one we shared together. "I'm sorry I put you on the spot."
"It's okay, I have been acting weird, but thanks for understanding, even though I can't tell you."
"I know."
I walked home in silence. I knew what awaited me at home. You would think that I would be used to it by now. Well, I'm not, and as soon as my house approached, I felt the butterflies in my stomach. I was at the brink of crying, but I held firm. It would only show a sign of weakness. And that, would get it worse.
"Where were you," I heard my dad say.
"At play practice, just like every day."
"Don't you take that tone with me."
Pain to me is no longer a feeling, it is just a word. And so was the thought as I got pummeled in the arms, legs, and chest. He stayed away from any part visible. That word flooded my system, but it didn't feel like much more than an ant. And this is going to sound really stupid, but I started to laugh. I really started to belt it out too. This, however, was followed with more punches. "What the fuck is so funny? You think you can stand anything? How about a knife? Can you stand that?" He drew his pocket knife and approached my skin with a downward thrust. He stopped millimeters from it. "No, I don't think so." He got up off the floor and gave me one more hard kick in the ribs, then left me there. To die. | null | Chapter 1 | Authors/Omicronthetas_Argos/Crown_Of_Thorns01_Gay_lit.txt |
100,414 | Omicronthetas_Argos | Oakleaves01_Gay_Lit | You know I've heard it hundreds of times, but that damn alarm clock always pisses me off. Seriously, who ever invented a sound like that should be shot. And I would gladly be the one to do it. Anyway, and this is the only reason it makes that sound, I had to get up to turn it off. God, I wish that I could reach that snooze button.
So I angrily tossed the covers off of me and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Being as uncoordinated as I am, I swung my entire body off the bed. Landing hard on my bottom, I swore under my breath. This is not starting out right. Getting up, I looked around my room, yep, just like I like it. A shit hole, as my mom puts it. I like to call it organized chaos. Underneath the surface, I know where everything is. Flipping on the light, I cringed under the bright illumination. Great, now that I have this permanent light stain on the back of my eye, I won't be able to see a damn thing. And sure enough, I tripped on my backpack. "FUCK!" Getting up for the second time in one minute, I looked around for some clothes to wear.
When it suddenly hit me, Friday, the last day of the school week. Yep, one more week till summer. Again smacked with realization, I had put my best casual clothes in the dryer. Yep, I want to look good today. Running down the hall and turning the sharp corner to the basement, I stopped. Stairs. With the day that I am having, I will slow down for this. I smiled to myself. This day better get better.
I retrieved the clothes from the dryer and ran back to my room, ripping off my boxers, I gave myself the once over in my mirror doors. Not bad, I thought. 6'1", 150 lb. and a killer body. Yep, I took good care of myself. Worked out, ate right, and did my homework. I have bright blond hair and stone cold blue eyes. I keep my hair cut short because I hate gelling it or whatever the hell all those other guys do to it. I am sixteen and don't have a hair on my body, save for a little dusting on my legs and arms and of course the normal teenage growth. And most importantly, I am gay. By the way, my name is Garrett. I have come to terms with my sexuality. I used to hate myself, never suicidal, but the thought did cross my mind once and a while.
Now, I like who I am, and I like guys. Especially one. Yep, my obsession, I can't keep him off my mind. Here is the problem. He is my greatest friend. Of course, he doesn't know about me, I wouldn't tell a single soul. Furthermore, I don't want to scare him, I don't want to lose him as a friend. His name is Noah. He is 5'7" and roughly 125lb. He has a swimmer's build. Something to die for. But above all, I love his face. His eyes are a mixture of blue and gray and he has a killer smile. It is the strangest thing, when he smiles, small creases form at the corners of his mouth. I gulp, every time he smiles. His face is so defined, definite but gentle curves around the chin and jawbone. Everything is just...perfect. His hair is a deep brown, thick and long, not too long. It is so cute that he doesn't even touch it. It looks like a mop, but somehow that turns me on. What it is, I don't know.
"Holy Shit, time really flies when you're deep in thought." I had fifteen minutes to get to school and it is a ten-minute drive. I jumped into my clothes and straightened up. Did my hair and made sure to look my best. Grabbing my backpack, I bolted down the hall and out the door. Whipping out my keys, I opened my car door. A nice little car, 1999 Saturn. No time to think, must go now, I took off and was soon in the school parking lot. Pulling into my space, I got out and ran to the building, halfway there, I ran back and locked the door. Looking at my watch, I realized that I have no time left. I actually sprinted to my locker, the coach would have been impressed. I barely made it to Pre-calculus.
Sitting in my seat, I pulled out my book and last night's homework. Mrs. Trembolt walked around and made sure we did it. Then we went through it. The class went pretty fast. The rest of the day, however, moved at the speed of a snail. Yep, Noah was in most of my classes, and like always we sat across the room. No teacher wanted us together. We are dangerous when we are together. So all I could do was stare at him.
In my life, I have only had one fantasy. To hold or be held by him. That's right, no sex, no blowjobs, or anything. Just sleeping in each other's arms. Oh, God, did I want that. Lunch eventually rolled around. I sat at my usual table and was soon joined by my three friends. Noah, Brook, and Alex. Brook and Alex are a couple, but secretly. Brook is short and tan. Lean, definitely an asset to the female population. Definitely a hottie, um, if I was straight. Alex is short too. 5'5" or something near that. He is cute, but I never looked at him like that.
"Hey Garrett," Brook called.
"Hey, Brook, Alex, Noah," I called back.
"Hey,"
"Hi."
Brook started off. "So what are you guys doing over the summer?"
"I have to get a job," Noah said.
"Me too," I chimed in.
"What about for the second week of summer vacation?"
"I don't know, Why?"
"My parents and I are going on a canoe trip in a canoe area, in northeast Minnesota. And she said that I could bring along you guys."
My eyes bulged open. "You have got to be kidding me."
"No joke," she responded.
"That is so cool," Alex said.
"Hell yeah," I finally said. Brook Chambers' parents were really cool, they were the real adventurers. Always going on camping trips. They have probably gone to more places than Rand McNally. They always brought a piece of their trip back with them. Their house was absolutely amazing.
"I don't know," Noah said. We all looked at him for a few seconds. "What?"
"What do you mean, `I don't know'," Brook said.
"Just," he thought for a second, "I don't know."
"Whatever, you're coming, it wouldn't be the same." That was one thing about Brook, she fought for what she wanted, no, she assumed that she got what she wanted. It cracked me up. We returned to normal lunchroom conversation like teachers, homework, love interests, and food quality. That was a big one. Noah stayed quiet. I would have been concerned but I was currently busy talking to Brook and Alex. Lunch ended all too soon. And it was back to the mundane schedule of classes. The day finally finished. I felt drained, and as soon as I got home I collapsed onto my bed.
With the expectation of the upcoming trip, exam week flew by. This surprised me, but I wasn't complaining. Before I knew it, I had graduated my Junior year. Every day, I had a smile on my face. This turned a few heads, but with my carefree attitude, nothing really mattered. When the final bell rang, I jumped out of my seat and sprinted for my car. I don't know why I ran, I had to wait for Brook, Alex, and Noah. I saw them pour out of the building with the rest of the students and waved them over.
"Hey man," Alex said.
"Hey, how's it going..."
Alex interrupted me, "Absolutely fantastic, last day of school is over with. No more Teachers, homework, bells." I started to hum, "Glory, Glory, Alleluia." Alex continued, "No more coaches yelling, detentions. No more pens, paper, pencils. We are free, free at last."
"Finished?" Brook asked.
"Ohhhh, yea," he responded with a shake of his head.
"Good, let's go," I said. We all piled into the car. I started it up and headed out. "So where you want to go?"
"Denny's," Noah said. "By the way, Alex, nice speech."
"Thanks, I would like to thank my family and friends for their supp....."
"Moment over, buddy," I interrupted.
"Hey, man you're passing it up," Brook said.
"Shit," I said as I made a rather dangerous and rather illegal turn. I pulled into the lot and walked inside. Waiting for a table took about...forever. It was after all a high school hangout. But we eventually got one. That entire meal was spent talking about the trip and the end of school. But the latter seemed second priority.
Noah has gotten permission to go with us and by Brook's orders, he is coming. `Yes,' I thought to myself, `this is going to be great.' Brook was short and concise in describing the trip.
"Thirty miles into the back country, no toilets, TVs, 1 radio for weather because that is all that we will be able to get, little packaged food, 1 water purifier, and a whole lot of work."
`Great,' I thought, `This ought to be a whole lot of fun.' And I really meant that too. She gave us a printed list of everything that we would need to bring. Printed on her computer. She was one for perfection also.
The day before the trip, nervousness hit me. I was freaked, out on the open lakes. Out, having to provide everything, nobody else around.Okay, so I was a little nervous about the water, but not so much as I am with having Noah with me for a week, close to him, changing, fishing, talking, being with him for a week. I was freaked that I was going to say something that would give me away. This is a fear that I had to live with for a long time, but I only had to face him at school, or for a few hours out of the day. I never slept over at his house, against some sort of religious thing.
I packed my stuff meticulously. I made sure that I had a pair of pants, underwear, shirts, my sleeping bag, toiletries, a book in a plastic bag. I was warned that things might get wet. I remembered my camera, and just a few other things. I packed light. I had a backpack of things, not bad I thought for a 16 year old. My mom insisted that I give Brook's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, a twenty. I knew that they wouldn't take it. She then told me to stuff it in her bag.
I had a fitful sleep. I was troubled with a mixture of fear, excitement, love, and to add to the mixture was a dash of teenage hormones. Noxious stuff I would think. I awoke, however, with a start with my mom sitting at my bedside.
"Buddy, it's time to get up. Brooklyn will be here any minute." My mom always called her by her full name.
"Mom, for the thousandth time, you can call her Brook," I said groggily.
"Really, I never knew," she said as a joke.
"Mom!!" She left and flipped on the light as she swept out the door. "Ugg," I grunted and rolled out of bed painfully onto the floor. As was the start to every morning.
I heard the honk of a horn then Brook yell, "GARRETT, COME ON!!!!"
"Garrett, they're here!" my mom yelled.
"I KNOW!" I stripped and changed into my casual clothes that I set out last night. Simple shirt and jeans. I ran out to the minivan, tossed my bag with the others in the back and climbed into the rear seat with Noah, who was more asleep than awake. "Good morning," I said to everyone at once.
"Good morning Garrett," Brook said. Her parents were just as enthusiastic. I got only grunts from Alex and Noah. The drive was slow and, well, just slow. I busied myself with observing the passing trees and cars and Noah. But he wasn't passing; instead, he was passed out on my shoulder. I loved that feeling of someone else on me. It just felt so right. Soon I fell asleep as well.
"Garrett, Garrett. Get up." A smile crossed my lips as I heard Noah's small angelic voice. He pulled himself out from under me. It was then that I realized my head was on his lap. The horror of the situation was expertly masked with fake humor.
"Dude, you just let me sleep on your lap?"
"Umm, yeah. I figured, since I was sleeping as well and had no choice in where your head ended up!"
"Sorry." I looked around as I got out of the car.
"Welcome to Ely. This is a town which solely lives to house all the outfitters for the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. Now come on, we haven't much time," Mr. Chambers said. | null | null | Authors/Omicronthetas_Argos/Oakleaves01_Gay_Lit.txt |
100,425 | null | Ode to Your Flower | Your sweet lips
spread so wide,
Showing their pinkness
way up inside.
Your nectar flows
freely from within,
Covering my lips, my tongue, and my chin.
How sweet do you taste
as I lick your smooth flesh!
Your arousal excites me
to do my very best.
I lick each lip with
the most tender of care,
Set my sights at
the clit hovering up there.
I push with my fingers
on the hood that is there,
Covering your clit
from my amorous care.
I expose your button
to the view of my eyes,
I lick and I suck and
listen to your cries.
You wiggle and squirm,
holding my head close,
Not once am I ever
dislodged from my post.
Your thick juices flow
from the well where I drink,
An orgasm is teetering
there on the brink.
Prolonging the pleasure
of your orgasmic release,
My tongue continues
to play in your wet, wet crease.
Your pussy is swollen
and ready to pour,
But yet my tongue continues
to lick and explore.
Your flower is wide open,
the gates are all set
To release all your passion
and leave you all spent.
Your pussy is soaked,
and my tongue wears a coat.
When your dam finally bursts,
I am sure I will float.
Your sensitive breasts,
With nipples so taut,
Are squeezed in my fingers
when they are easily caught.
Your breathing is heavy,
Coming in gasps.
Your orgasm is nearing,
You are in my grasp.
Your skin is alive,
all tingly and such,
Covered with goose bumps
and so hot to the touch.
Waves of ecstasy pass through your body,
Rippling your tummy and shaking your thighs.
It is for certain,
I can tell by your sighs.
Raising your hips tight to my mouth,
You call out my name as you violently shake,
Holding my head in place
as you experience each thunderous quake.
My tongue continues
its rhythm for sure,
Much lighter and slower,
continuing the tour.
A vision of your pussy
I remember oh so well -
The touch, the taste,
ah yes, the smell.
I devoured your flower
in all its splendor,
So happy for the favor
and your surrender.
My arms encircle you,
cuddling you close.
You know from my hold
that you are the most.
Lightly stroking your pussy,
breasts pressed tight to my chest.
You know by the way I love you
that you are the best. | null | null | Authors/justforfun_1811/poems/ode to your flower.txt |
100,427 | Wrestlr | Subject to Change | You've done this, been here, before. Standing in the back of the mall bookstore, back by the magazines. It took you half an hour by bicycle to get here--it's far enough from the college you attend that you won't see anyone you know. Near closing time, too, late enough that nearly everyone has gone home already; you're already going to get back to the dorm after lights-out, and you'll catch hell if you're caught sneaking in late again.
But there they are on the back row of the magazine racks. Behind the music mags and the teen rags on the bottom. Behind the lifestyle publications directly in front of you. Behind the muscle magazines just over your head and even behind the straight porn. On the back row: cellophane-wrapped gay porno mags. At nineteen and a half, you're old enough to buy; at this mall, you're far away from campus to buy in privacy.
You've already chosen the one you want, based on the visible parts of the smiling guy on the cover. You know the plan: as soon as that kid by the comics and that guy down by the hot-rod magazines go away, you'll reach up and grab it, maybe a skateboarding mag to put over it on the counter too, and head to the register. You'll stash it in your backpack the minute you're out of the store, pedal back to your dorm room like mad. Wait until after your roommate has gone the next morning to take it out and jerk off, and then hide it up in the ceiling tiles where he won't find it.
In the meantime, waiting until no one will see, you pretend interest in the headlines about new rock groups and new ways to work your upper deltoids, whatever those are.
The kid by the comics makes a selection and disappears. Two yards to your right, hot-rodder boy is taking his time, thumbing through the pages like it's the most important decision he'll ever make. Getting impatient, you run a fingernail against your tooth in distraction. You're so excited; nervous fidgets are the least of your problems--any second now you're going to spring a boner.
Your peripheral vision picks up the new guy as he walks up to the magazine rack to your left, five feet away. He looks at you like he recognizes you. You feign disinterest and don't look his way. He's looking at you, though; you can feel his eyes on you. Would he turn and run if you turned to him and yelled, "Get lost, faggot"?
Keep staring at the magazines. He says something to you--he says hello. Ignore him. His voice sounds familiar. You recognize it: that guy you, Steve, Gino, and Grant saw at a fraternity keg party you went to the other day, the hypnotist they brought in for entertainment. Maybe it's him. He got the four of you to come up on stage. You don't exactly remember what happened after you went onstage, but all four of you agree it was pretty cool. Now, though, he's delaying your agenda, so you try to ignore him.
He says hello again. Glance up. Yeah, it's the same guy--the Amazing Whatever-His-Name-Was. He seems to recognize you too. Say hey back, noncommittally. Go back to staring at the magazines. Ignore him. Maybe he'll go away.
He's looking over the magazines too. And talking to himself. He keeps saying the same things over and over. Focus. Relax. Stuff like that. You pretend intense interest on the magazines laid out before you. You've felt this way sometimes when you look at something a long time and get kinda mesmerized by it, the way you're not fully alert and can't look away. You're feeling calmer; you feel it slowly and it spreads through your shoulders and down through your spine and legs. Nothing matters as much as it did a minute ago--you've got time and you can out-wait these guys.
You're awfully tired. The bike ride over must have taken more out of you than you realized. You can't break the spell of what's come over you. You can't lift your head. You're feeling very sleepy and you can barely keep your eyes open. The man to your left slides up alongside you and drapes his arm around your shoulders. You don't fight it--the thought never even occurs to you. He leads you and you let him, down the aisle, out of the bookstore, out to the parking lot, past where your bike stands chained to the stands. You can't raise your drooping head, can't look at him, and things pass as shapes and colors before your semi-focused gaze. If the hard-on shows through the thin fabric of your jams, you don't care. Your world has reduced to the tired sensation that tingles through your limbs, and the blurs before your eyes, and the pressure of this man's arm against the back of your shirt.
He leads you to a car; later, when you wake up, you won't be able to remember the color or make. He opens the passenger door. The little light makes the interior seem inviting, and all you want is to climb in, stretch out, take a nap. But the man holds you back. He takes the backpack you've got slung over your right shoulder. Never occurs to you to mind or say no. He lifts your arms like sapling limbs, tugs your flimsy tee-shirt tail up and lifts it, pulls it off over your head and hands. Kneeling almost in your line of paralyzed sight, he unties your shoes. He deftly unties your drawstring and the material of your shorts caresses your thighs and calves as he guides them down. Feel your worries slipping away, so far away. No embarrassment--only arousal. He's right--this is such a turn-on. Your briefs glide down too at his touch, and your erection bobs free; it's so hard it hurts, and you ache for its release. Pressure on your bare shoulder: his hand guiding you into the open mouth of his car door. You sit on the seat, legs still dangling outside; he pulls off your shoes, draws your shorts and briefs over your bared feet, tucks your legs into the car and closes the door.
You're naked in a stranger's car. No, not really a stranger. You remember him from the kegger--remember him and trust him. He's getting in the driver's seat. You don't do this with strangers but he's not really a stranger, and you won't stop him. You're too sleepy. The seat jolts a little as he reaches over you and releases the catch, lowers the seat back until you're prone. He's kissing your neck. Feel yourself sink into the plush seat, sink into sleep, as if his soothing voice is coaxing the consciousness right out of you. His fingers close around your cock and jack it slowly, an added bonus. This delicious drowsiness is claiming you. Can't stay awake. Can't fight the feeling. Close your eyes and cum, an easy, effortless ejaculation that submerges you into the blankness of sleep.
CHAPTER: 2
You're flat on your back and there's light everywhere. Ignore it--it's so peaceful to remain asleep a little longer and then a little longer. But finally your eyes have to open. Must be mid-morning, the way the sun stampedes through your dorm room window. You squint in its fury. Sit up. Your roommate Steve's gone; you're alone.
You don't remember anything else about the night before. Even what you do remember seems too dreamlike to be real. There's that pleasant heaviness in your limbs, though, and that tingling fucked-out limpness in your cock. Push the covers back and swing your legs over the edge. You're naked--you always sleep in your briefs but this time you're naked. There are your clothes from last night and your backpack on the floor by your desk. Rub your hands across your eyes. It must have really happened. Must have been real.
The sunlight clears your head, makes you wake up. You stand up and go to your closet. There are these flecks on your stomach that could be dried cum.Check the sheets—no cum stains there. Was it real? Did you let a complete stranger strip you in a parking lot, put you in his car, and jack you off? Too many questions; no answers. You pull on a pair of briefs and shorts and a t-shirt, and get your towel. Time to hit the showers.
Under the spray, alone in the showers: your time to think. From the kegger show last week, you remember the hypnotist. It's vague. Some kind of relaxing test exercise. Going up onstage with your friends. Then... nothing until he was waking you up, later, backstage, after the end of the show and sending you back into your lives. Nothing except how much you enjoyed the feeling, being hypnotized, being part of the show.
From last night, you remember his voice, the relaxed feeling again, so cooperative again, how good it felt. Then... nothing.
Your dick hardens. It sidetracks you, makes you forget everything else. Your hand slides around it automatically. No one around. Touching yourself feels good. No distractions. No one around. Not much time. Pump your fist along your cock—the familiar rhythm. You think: Being hypnotized felt so great. Breathe in ragged bursts. Your legs almost buckle as the familiar feeling burns through your balls, then your body. And cum. Cum hard. Cum and cum and cum! Shoot your load hard, like bullets. Spent, you collapse into the afterglow against the shower wall, under the spray. The shower spray rinses it all away. A great way to start your day.
That night, your roommate Steve is there when you get back from the library, ten minutes before lights-out. He's sprawled out on his bed with his shirt and shoes off, reading a textbook. At not quite twenty yet, you're a trim, kind-of-muscular sophomore; two years older, he's a senior, a star on the tennis team. Your body is still a teenager's turning into a man's; his already is a man's. He looks up and says hello when you come in. He's got the casual manners and easy assurance of his nouveau riche family. Everything about him oozes new money, from his obviously expensive haircut, to his pristine white shorts, to his expensive taste in jewelry—tonight a gold-and-garnet ring on one finger, a little gold dragon dangling from a slim gold chain around his neck, and the thick, expensive gold watch on his wrist.
Steve puts the book aside, turns his attention to you: he wants to know what you were doing the night before, who you were with, what time you got in (after he went to sleep, apparently), and how much you had to drink—a lot obviously, since you were still sacked out and he couldn't wake you when he left for class that morning. You tell him you were out with a couple of friends and got drunk on tequila—he'll believe that even though you seldom drink. To celebrate one of the guys getting laid for the first time; that'll hook him into believing it. To the rest of his questions, plead that you don't remember. Let him think the tequila is to blame. He doesn't press.
Propped on one elbow, opposite knee cocked up to give you a good view of his body and the mound in his shorts, he's clueless about you: doesn't know you're gay, doesn't realize you've had a crush on him since you got assigned as roommates. He has caught you staring a few times at his body, and he probably thinks it's because he's got a damn good build while you're still kind of skinny from late adolescence, still filling out. He knows the effect he has on the chicks; he just hasn't connected it to the effect he has on you. He's beautiful. Dark blond hair and light brown eyes. Thick jawline with a little cleft in his chin. Wide chest with a little hair smeared across it. Great build from all the sports he plays. Nice ass, and what you've seen of the up-front equipment looks good too. He swaggers about the dorm room naked—more than he needs to just be going to or from the showers or changing clothes—with an athlete's casualness, and you've seen his cock a lot: almost always soft but sometimes part-hard in the morning when he walks past your bed en route to the bathroom down the hall to pee. You've never seen him fully hard, but he obviously packs more dick than you do.
Sit on your bed, facing him. He steers the talk to this girl he's asked out, where he's going to take her, how he plans to get laid. You have no doubt she'll put out for him; his instincts are good that way, and you've seen the women melt for him. You would too, you think, suddenly realizing you haven't been paying attention to his soliloquy. Not that he needs your input to keep his little speech rolling.
Lights-out passes while he's talking. You both know you'll get in trouble if you wait much longer. He shucks his shorts and slides his legs into his unmade bed. You start peeling clothing, down to just your briefs. Pull back the covers. The rule is: whoever is the last one in has to turn the overhead light out. Tonight, that's you.
As you stand up for the walk past the foot of Steve's bed to the switch by the door, your phone rings, the sudden sound jarring in the quiet night. Pick it up quickly, before the Resident Advisor hears it, and you say hello. Someone—a familiar man's voice—says your name and something else, a phrase that you recognize as special, and this pleasant lethargy steals over you. Suddenly. You must be more tired than you thought. Moving takes conscious effort. Sleepiness sneaks over you, overwhelms you, overcomes you. The few steps to the door become an eternity, and only your cock is rousing. You planned for your hand to reach for the light switch, but it closes on the door knob instead. You open the door and step into the darkened hallway beyond.
Part of you realizes this is like what you felt the night before. Part of you realizes the man is waiting for you. Your hard dick is tenting up the front of your briefs. The friction of fabric against flesh as you walk makes it throb for release.
Walk down the stairs, like sleepwalking, to the front entrance of the dorm. A shadow before one of the sets of glass double-doors. The doors lock automatically when shut, openable from the outside only by running a student ID through the reader. He cannot enter unless the door is opened for him. Your gaze focuses on the metal bar handle running across the glass door. Everything is lit by street lights from outside, the security light in the stairwell you just exited. The world appears underwater, and the sluggishness of your body confirms it. Push open the door. He enters in an eddy, a zephyr that swirls the currents around your tingling skin.
He's taller than you, but you cannot see his face clearly: too much effort, and it's too dark in here anyway. You'd rather look at the pocket watch he holds up into your face. You have the impression of dark clothes that feel expensive when his other arm slides around your shoulders. Let him use that arm to guide you back to your room.
He pushes open your door, ushers you through. Your relaxed desire is invitation enough, and he follows, closes the door behind him. You can't look away from him. It's like he's enthralled you just by being there or something.
He has this silver pocket watch. Looks expensive, in the low room light, ornately engraved. It dangles from a chain in his hand. He holds it up into the light. You remember it.
"Don't worry about Steve," the man says. "I came by earlier when you were gone. Steve and I had ourselves a nice, long conversation. Didn't we, Steve? Yes. A nice, relaxing conversation. Steve is an excellent subject. Aren't you, Steve? Yes, indeed."
He goes to Steve's bed. Tracking the man, your eyes take in Steve's face as the man stands beside his bed. Steve is awake, sort of. On his back, he's looking up at the man, at the man's swaying pocket watch, rapt as if seeing God. Steve's eyes are spellbound, heavy-lidded, and his expression is thick. His body relaxes, as the man talks to him, slowly sprawling out as the tension drains from his limbs. He's feeling what you're feeling. The man pulls back the sheets all the way to the foot of the bed, a progressive revelation of Steve's body. Steve is erect; you can see it straining at his white briefs. The man sits on the edge of Steve's bed, beside his thigh, and pulls the pouch of Steve's briefs aside to unveil a seven-inch-plus cock that hooks a little toward the left and down, then turns back up nearer the end. Uncut.
The man leans forward, his face hidden from you, to lick at Steve's nipple between suggestions. Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes open. Like the man's voice is narcotic or something. Steve is letting the man into his head. The man's mouth is at Steve's neck, kissing, nudging Steve's face to roll toward you. The man whispers gently into Steve's ear. His body hovers over Steve's, hand working Steve's cock between them. Steve's eyes glaze over, then close. His expression is blissful, quiet. He shudders when he cums.
The man stands, wipes off Steve's sperm on the sheets. He turns to you. One finger, still a little wet with Steve's semen, pokes into the waistband of your briefs and deftly slides the cloth down to free your erection. He is talking to you now. Telling you to relax, surrender, sleep. Your eyelids are slipping shut. That finger and its companions wrap around your dick and start stroking it. His other hand draws your body in, holds you close, and his head bends to kiss you. You open your jaw to let his tongue inside, but you're too far gone to respond with your own. This passivity pleases you as much as what you're feeling throughout your body and on your cock. He's laying you back on your bed, stretching himself out on top of you. Whispering, always whispering suggestions to you. His fingers are coaxing your cock. You give in willingly.Your cock feels like it shatters as the force of your orgasm quietly splinters through every part of you.
3.
You linger in that heavy slumber as long as you can, unwilling to part with the lingering limpness. The covers coat you like a lover's saliva, and the dark peace of sleep protects you from everything.
But then as before, sunlight in your face gradually carries you to waking. You hear Steve stir, and you force your eyes open against the wall of sleep and the glare that challenges it from outside to see him climb from his bed and, yawning, sleepy-stumble to the closet for his towel and shaving kit before practically sleepwalking to the showers.
You feel even more zoned out than yesterday. Reach for the clock with sluggish fingers. Peer at it. Nearly drop it onto your head accidentally: fingers so slumber-clumsy. It's nearly noon.
Steve's a while at the showers, and it's nearly half an hour before you can gather the strength to sit up. How did the man zonk you out like this? Will it happen again tonight? Part of you thrills at this thought.
You're sitting with your legs over the side of the bed--covers bunched in your lap, your eyes barely open--when Steve comes back. He's whistling, feeling chipper now, post-shower. "Get up, sleepy-head," he teases as he spreads his towel over the back of his desk chair to dry. "Time to get moving," he says and grabs your covers and jerks them away. He nods, eyebrow cocked as he surveys your lap: "Nice equipment."
Look down. You've got a boner and, still freed from the pouch of your briefs by the man's dalliances, it curves up into the sunlit air. Grab the covers and slam them into your crotch to hide yourself. Feel the blood flare into your cheeks.
But Steve's already going his own way, to the closet for a fresh pair of briefs. Says, over his shoulder, "Don't worry about it, man; happens to everybody." A tee-shirt and shorts. Socks and athletic shoes. "I'm going running. Catch you later." Then he's gone.
Once the sound of Steve's voice and the closing door have cleared out of your head, you push the covers aside. Your cock is still hard. It has that "recently cum" feeling, but you're horny again. Stroke it. The skin sings to your touch. Retrieve Steve's undershorts where he discarded them. Press them to your nose. Inhale the smell of him. Press them to the tip of your cock as your world narrows to that shaft of flesh and you spurt your white jizm into the white fabric.
That horny feeling doesn't go away--it makes you want to do things all day. So you're open to it when a friend you tricked with once calls and says he and a couple of other guys you know are going dancing at this gay club across town and do you want to come along.
It's far enough away that your friends are the only people there who will know you. You're not old enough to get in--at nineteen and twenty, none of you are--but you have the cover charge and the fake IDs and the jaded looks that get you past the tired-looking bouncer. It's a weeknight, so nothing much is happening cruise-wise, but you're here to dance and drink and have a good time, and you do all three. You and your friends are there until the last possible moment, even though the joint is picking up toward the end and you're tempted to stay and risk trouble for getting back to the dorm after lights-out.
The high of beer and dancing and loud music and second-hand smoke--not all of it tobacco--still chimes through your head when you make it up the stairs to your dorm floor with two minutes to spare. Steve's already in your room, and he's in a slow seethe: the girl he took out tonight wouldn't put out--and got pretty insulting about it, to hear his side of it. You reek of beer and sweat and the smoky bar. You grab your towel and excuse yourself for a quick shower to blast the cigarette smoke and smell of stale booze off your body.
The overhead lights go out while you're under the warm water, all except the safety lights, enough to see by. You stand around a while under the spray, enjoying the caress of it. The beer buzz is fading faster than you'd have liked.
Back in your dorm room, sitting spread-kneed on the edge of your bed in your briefs as you rub the towel through your damp hair, you have to listen to Steve's rantings. The gist: this chick was an easy mark and laid this friend of his last week, and she was obviously into Steve and was really leading him on, so she had no fucking reason to say no like that when they both knew she wanted it.
Steve's in his underwear, staring at his body in the full-length mirror on the closet door by the light from his desk reading lamp. "She said I didn't have 'husband potential.' Can you believe that? That slut! No 'husband potential.' What the fuck did she mean by that? Look at this body--any guy would be proud to have a body like this!" That part at least is true, you think, trying not to look. "Is it my pecs? My arms? Do I need to do extra reps on the bench press?" He laughs, an angry sound that catches your attention. "Certainly don't need any improvement down below"--he squeezes his crotch forward into an obscene lump and shakes it at his reflection. Tongue stuck out. Grinning. "There's enough here to keep a bitch like her on her knees all night and still have her begging for more in the morning." He laughs again. Looks like he's semi-hard. Sure enough, he complains, "Damn! That bitch got me so worked up! What the fuck made her think she could she tease me like that and leave me dry? I'm so fucking horny. There ought to be a fucking law against screwing with a guy like that, y'know? A fucking law against it! Shit! What the fuck am I going to do now?"
His eyes are in shadow, but you feel them deflect off the mirror and onto you. You blush in spite of yourself and look away. "Hey ..."--his voice is quieter, mindful of the neighbors and thin walls, but there's a hard edge to it that pricks your hackles. "Is it true, what I hear about you on campus?"
Half of you wants to run, the other half to just die. You're fixed to the spot. Swallow hard. Uncertainty: "What did you hear?" Great!--Might as well hand him a full confession.
"I think you know what I hear. I think you can help me out here." He's turned to you, openly groping his definite hard-on through the flimsy underwear material.
"No way, man. I don't--"
Steve interrupts. "Shhh. I've known about you since you moved in. I know you've been wanting it." He pulls the elastic waistband down with a hooked thumb, strokes his exposed member with his other hand as he saunters toward you. Like a bird before a snake, you sit. You've wanted this so long you can't run, but you're so afraid you can't reach for it. He stands between your knees, with the tip of what you've dreamed about less than three inches from your lips. He takes the towel from your hands and discards it on your bed. He whispers, "Just a little? Just help me out a little. C'mon, I won't tell anyone. I swear. Help me out, just a little. Please?"
Lick your lips nervously. He takes it as an invitation and his rod begins its slow advance. Part your lips and meet it halfway. "That's it," he sighs. "You're good at this. I knew I was right about you."
His body sways above you, in rhythm with your bobbing head. He's being unusually quiet. Look up at him. Above the tight grid of his abs, above the expanse of Steve's solid pec muscles is a man's hand. It holds a silver pocket watch on a chain, dangling it a few inches in front of Steve's eyes. The man from before, embraces Steve from behind with an arm around Steve's chest. He whispers in Steve's ear. For a second, you wonder how he got in here, before the glittering silver pocket watch catches your eyes too, fills them, and you find you don't care. The thought slips away. The man provides support for Steve; Steve's head reclines back onto the man's shoulder. The man kisses the side of Steve's neck. The sight of the swaying pocket watch fascinates you too, and you almost stop sucking to get a look at it. But the man tells you to keep going, and you do.
The man eases Steve's unresisting body backward. Steve's cock pulls out of your mouth. The man says a final word into Steve's ear: "Cum." Steve's cock throbs and jerks and shoots onto your chin and neck and chest. With the warm wetness, you feel that pleasant weariness slouch through your whole body. The man hoists Steve easily, carries him to his bed, lays him out like a slumbering child. Then the man turns to you with the pocket watch extended. You're too gone already to avoid looking at it, even in this half-light. He tells you to relax, focus. Then he turns out the desk lamp.
The man comes to you. His hands behind your calves lift your legs up and cantilever your body onto the bed. His fingers on your chest--pressuring you back. His hand slides into your briefs. His body settles on yours like a cape of sleep. You settle in and enjoy the sensation. He's telling you to let go of something: consciousness, wakefulness, awareness, inhibition, care--you aren't sure what exactly, and you're sure you won't miss it anyway. He's giving you this feeling in return, this orgasm that ripples silvery through your body, this deep sleep that claims you.
4.
It's after ten o'clock the next morning before you manage to rouse yourself. You can't face Steve after last night. Fortunately, he is still out cold, breathing deeply, snoring softly. The bright sun burns your eyes and seems to help wake you a little. You climb from the beckoning mattress, get dressed, grab your backpack, leave.
After a quick meal in the cafeteria, you hole up in the library, up in the top floors, back in the stacks where you know from experience few people go. The fifth floor, to the left and back to the next-to-last study carrel.That's your favorite; that's where you think the best.
What Steve did both excites you and terrifies you. But the ice has been broken. Maybe it'll happen again. Maybe next time he'll reciprocate. Maybe he'll fall in love with you instead of those "bitches" he screws. Does he remember what has happened twice now with the man? You don't think so; you pray he doesn't. You're not so sure yourself what happened after your eyes closed.
And what about the man: where does he fit into all of this? Was he the reason Steve came on to you last night? What does he want, and why you? And your darkest thought: will he come again?
Leave the library only for dinner, then hole up again. In the dim corridors and quiet of the stacks, your mind runs quicksilver through the possibilities, not paying any attention to the open textbooks in front of you. Search the catalog for reference books on hypnotism. The books are full of techno-babble. No answers in any of them and none come in response to your spiraling thoughts, only more questions. You're sure the man will be back. You can almost feel some kind of connection between him and yourself. He's always shown up around lights-out time; he'll be back tonight. Maybe that's an answer of sorts.
Awake with a start when the open book slides out of your lap and hits the floor. You'd drifted into sleep without realizing it. The groggy feeling fades a little, but you can't entirely shake it. You've stayed out as long as you can. Half an hour before lights-out. The library is closing. Someone will come around soon and evict you. Time to head back to the dorm.
Your dorm room door is propped open by the body of a man sitting on your floor, his back against the door. You recognize the torso, the shape of the head: Grant, who lives across the hall. Grant has blond hair and two earrings in his left lobe, and you've always found him attractive; you've always thought he could be had if you were careless enough to make a pass at him. But there has always too much chance of someone else in the dorm finding out, though; and when you're not fully out, you never shit where you live.
You have to step around him to get through your door. He's surprised, grins, says hello, moves out of your way. Jeans and bare feet. A face that's beautiful and destined for fashion-model handsomeness when the boyish edge fades. Age twenty-one. Sandy-blond hair cut short and so wavy it's almost curly. Blue eyes. About five-foot-eleven and one-seventy pounds. Shirttail out and front unbuttoned, his shirt flaps flutter open around his gym-toned muscles as he rolls aside. A glimpse of his well-defined, hairless chest and one pinkish nipple. He keeps grinning. You purposely let him catch you looking quickly as you say hi back.
His roommate, Gino, is standing by Steve's bed, showing Steve a straight skin magazine. He's trying to convince Steve, who's sprawled on his bed in his underwear, that the naked girl listed as being from your university in the magazine's annual "Sexy Girls of College" nude layout is in his biology class. Gino is Italian and his accent always strikes you as sexy as hell. The fact that--aside from a tiny quartz crystal on a gold chain around his neck--he's wearing nothing but a pair of tattered old denim cut-offs doesn't hurt either. Straight brown hair and eyes. Hairy legs--and as you know from the showers, a hairy ass--and a light peppering of hair across his chest and belly. An inch shorter than Grant and not as gym-developed, but about the same weight and age.
Steve is skeptical, and the argument doesn't seem to be advancing beyond the "is"/"isn't" line. You park your butt on your bed and unsling your backpack and pull off your shoes and socks. Enjoy the scenery for a moment--real fantasy fodder--but you're kind of hoping Gino and Grant will go away so you can see if Steve will try for another blow-job. Or maybe you should make a move now for a fantasy four-way. Yeah, right. As if you've got the guts to try that.
What really concerns you is that it's almost lights-out. Will the man come while they're here? Will they remember each other?
Glance at the door. Gino and Steve haven't noticed yet. Grant's still standing there, but he has turned around, looking at something outside, in the hallway now. His arms are crossed over his chest, but his expression is stunned, as if stoned. You're not hearing the man's voice yet, but Grant is. Past the edge of the door frame, you can see an occasional arc of the pocket watch as the man swings it in the hallway. As you watch, Grant's arms uncross and slowly sag, until they hang limp at his sides. That gray paisley shirt is drawn back off his shoulders--a single quiet, smooth motion that carries it down his arms and over his hands. You see it flutter past the doorway as the man discards it onto the hallway floor.
The man impels Grant into your room with a word and a gentle nudge; then he enters too, closes the door. Gino and Steve look up from the magazine. The man holds out the pocket watch. He talks about how intricate the engraving is, how it draws their eyes in, how there's a secret design deep inside that they can almost see if they concentrate hard enough, how surely they must remember how to concentrate and look for the secret design. Their expressions slowly start to go slack as he keeps talking, telling them to relax, focus, concentrate, relax, sleep. There's a practiced efficiency about him. His voice washes over you too, but it's directed at and stronger on them. The magazine tumbles from Gino's relaxed fingers and is ignored.
The man is standing behind Grant. He is looking at, smiling at, Steve and Gino. His voice tells the three of them what he's going to do, tells them it will be okay, to just relax and let it happen. His hands reach around to open Grant's button fly jeans. The jeans and briefs beneath decline Grant's legs. The man murmurs suggestions, instructions. Grant steps free of them, slowly, not exactly gracefully but not stumbling. Boxer tan line. He stands there, expectantly. His cock sticks straight out, a perfect ninety-degree jut with a slight lift at the head. He's cut and packing six inches; not ultra-thick but better than most you've seen. The man wraps his arms around Grant from behind, wraps one hand around Grant's cock. His lips whisper into Grant's ear. Grant gives in, gives it up, eyes closing, head dipping back onto the man's shoulder. His lips part in bliss, a private paradise. He cums.
You expect him to fall over when the man releases him, but he stands there, swaying but not falling. Like a sleepwalker under the man's control.
Gino is receptive to the man's suggestions. The man opens and unzips Gino's shorts. They drop to his ankles--no underwear--and Gino steps free of them in all his naked glory when the man asks him to. A bikini tan line. His cock tapers to its uncut tip. Average size and thickness. He's grinning a little, sleepily, anticipating. The man stands in front of him, one hand on Gino's shoulder and the other jerking his erection, leaning forward to speak close in Gino's ear as Gino's head sags forward. Somehow, Gino is letting him do what he wants, following the man's suggestions. Gino cums in hard-driven spurts, like rifle fire.
Steve smiles half-blankly and does not look away. He runs his briefs down when the man turns to him and asks him to, and Steve drops them off the side of the bed. His cock runs up along his belly, aimed at his navel. He waits as the man settles onto the bed, settles onto him, compels him down onto the sheets. Steve's face, turned toward you, is rapt, the expression religions always burden with similar labels. The man murmurs suggestions into Steve's ear. You only hear the last one, as the man tells him to, and he cums.
Your turn. The man approaches. Stand up obediently when he says. Lift your arms at his suggestion. He takes the hem of your tee-shirt and wrests it over your head. He pulls down your elastic-waist gym shorts and briefs. He maneuvers you down onto the bed. You're giving in, letting him take control. It's for the best, just like he says. In return, he gives you this intense feeling and the orgasm that permeates your senses, as his voice lulls you into slumber--deep, black blankness. | null | 1 | Authors/Wrestlr/SubjectToChange1.txt |
100,570 | Wrestlr | Subject to Change | You sleep through the night and most of the morning. It's nearly noon when you manage to pull yourself free of slumber and rouse up. Steve is still zonked out. Gino and Grant, and their clothes, are gone--the man must have returned them to their room after you went under.
Get dressed. Not too much time before the cafeteria gets crowded for lunch and you're starved.
You eat. Walk around the campus. Pass the dorms and frat houses, checking in vain for undressed bodies in the sun-washed windows. Toward the far side of the campus, the less developed part, there are roads that wind and trees and dense undergrowth lining both sides. Saunter down them: no destination for body or mind, just a way to walk and let your thoughts talk to one another.
End up returning to campus, across campus from your dorm. Take the sidewalk home. In the door and upstairs. Onto your hall.
It settles over you almost the moment you step from the stairwell. The man is here. You hear his voice filtering through a door or a thin wall. Your body wants to stop and wait for him to speak to you with that relaxing voice of his, to claim you. Your mind cannot make it move, but you continue on as if from inertia or some call. Suspended between your door and Gino and Grant's, you can hear him. Not in your room--in theirs. Your hand finds their knob somehow and turns it and it opens to you. Step through and the door quietly sways shut on its own.
The man is there and his presence, his voice, fills the room in spite of the fact that he's talking softly and low. Grant and Gino are thoroughly under his control. They are between you and the man. Grant stands in profile to you; beyond him stands the man, facing you. The man is holding his pocket watch up in the air, as if holding it out to you, though he only suspends it before Grant's half-closed eyes. Grant's chest is bare, his shirt crumpled on the floor beside him, shorts clumped around his bare feet. Gino, also in profile, nude except for the briefs bunched around one ankle, kneels before Grant, holding Grant's thighs, head moving slowly at Grant's crotch. After a second you realize: Gino is worshipping Grant's cock with his mouth. The man is talking to Grant, giving him suggestions, slowly, so agonizingly and sweetly slowly, easing him toward ecstasy.
The man's voice calms the back of your mind. Your eyes fasten onto the familiar pocket watch. You remember it from the show where you went up on stage. You know what looking at it, the intricate design means--it means you're deeply hypnotized already. He says something to you. Your hands move, almost of their own volition instead of his suggestion, and soon you're naked. And just as hard as they are. You stand there, watching.
The man eases Grant's body back, and Grant's hard-on slips from Gino's mouth with a pop. The man tells him to cum, cum now. Tremors in Grant's legs and abs mark his orgasm.
The man steps around Grant, who stands there, head bowed, eyes closed, sinking deeply into motionless sleep, and the man closes in on to Gino. His finger applies gentle pressure to the center of Gino's forehead. Gino sits back on his ass, then lies back on the floor. The man settles beside him. The man's suggestions guide you too now. Crouch beside Gino and work your head into his crotch, suck his cock. You work on Gino's rod with the dedication you feel for the man and his suggestions. Gino cums.
Stand when the man stands. As he turns toward the door, his finger traces your jaw line, ear to chin, and the touch makes your skin tingle, pleasant anticipation. He says you should follow him.
Follow him. He walks across the hall to your room. Follow him, naked, without fear of your dorm mates seeing. No one will see, no one will notice--it doesn't matter--and somehow you understand this.
Your dorm room doorway opens at his touch. Follow him inside. Steve sits on his bed, back to the headboard. Eyes closed. Already deeply asleep; deeply entranced. He wears only a pair of boxer shorts, obvious erection inside. A magazine abandoned on the bed beside him.
Steve slides down on his mattress when the man tells him to, lying down, sprawling out. Waiting. His hips rise up. His hands ease his boxers to his knees, at the man's suggestion, before his body sinks back to the surface of the bed, limp now. His hard cock lolls across his hip. The only motion is the nudge of his pulse beating in his cock, the slow rise and fall of his breathing.
The man goes to him, sits on the bed beside him, bending to speak quietly into Steve's ear. Steve's crotch is exposed--that's an opening for you. The man says something to you too, and you understand. Go to them. Kneel beside the bed. Take Steve's ready shaft in your hand and guide it into your mouth. Nurse it, slowly, gently. Coax it with your tongue. He groans. He cums.
The man sits up. His hands pull you toward him, and you kiss. His mouth--you love the feel of it, his narcotic kisses.
You sit on the bed, beside Steve's limp body. Still kissing. The man's hand on your shoulder, rolling you so his other hand, on your penis now, can pleasure you. You welcome the orgasm that he offers when he breaks the kiss and tells you to cum, cum hard now.
CHAPTER: 6
You awake early. Just past dawn. You're jolted from sleep so suddenly you panic for a second. You're body still feels that torpidity; your dick still feels that fucked-out feeling. It happened again last night, but somehow you're awake and aware this morning. Steve is dead to the world still, sprawled atop his sheets.
Get some clothes. Get a shower. This early, you're alone in the showers. You're thinking about what has been happening lately, how good it feels, how relaxed and peaceful and sexy Steve and Gino and Grant look under the man's influence. Suddenly, under the spray, your morning-hard dick is the center of your attention and you can think of nothing else. Lean with one hand against the shower wall. Grasp your erection with the other. Feels so damn good. Jack it gently and feel it revel and send vibrations throughout your body. Speed up your strokes and it reveals something more intense, more imperative. You think: Being hypnotized felt so fucking great, better than sex. Your legs and balls are tightening. Your torso is bucking. You think: Wanna try hypnosis again. Cry out--that primal roar that could be pleasure or rage. Your cock strains and your body turns inside-out and goes red-hot and the scalding semen arcs into the air and smacks against the tile shower floor.
Slow your hand down; feel your breathing and heart slowly slow down to normal too. Fall back against the wall. This has been one of the most intense orgasms of your life, has left you deeply relaxed. Let all the worries go. Let go and pant quietly for a moment. Your cock, spent, softens and your awareness is broadening back out again.
Get shaved, get dressed. You stomach rumbles hungrily, and you think about breakfast from the cafeteria. The sun is going to blaze today.
Steve is still asleep when you come back to the dorm room. Survey your near-naked body in the mirror. At nineteen and a half, you're a skinny Florida boy. Muscular enough for your age, but still waiting to fill out into full manhood and still intimidated by the bodies of the better developed guys around you in the dorm and the gym. Your hair is dark brown, like your eyes, and worn in one of the longish casual styles of the moment. Your chest is hairless.Your tan is enhanced by a naturally medium-dark complexion--which, with your bone structure, suggests Native American blood in your background. Your face is cute but not the godlike beauty you'd like to see reflected in the mirror. Your best features are your tan and the potential your body shows. Your cock, uncut, is a nice length and curves upward a little when it's hard. Your balls are perfectly average in size.
You've had sex with a handful of guys, but you've never been in love beyond a couple of crushes, like the one you've had on Steve since you met him. Certainly, physically, you're better than average, but nothing men would fall all over themselves to seduce.
All of this is getting you depressed. Get dressed. You're reaching for your keys on the dresser when you see it. The man's pocket watch and chain. Just sitting there next to your keys. Like a gift or something. You pick it up, toss it lightly in the air once and catch it. The pattern on the casing catches your eye but not quite in the same way. Maybe he forgot it? Hmm--this might have possibilities. Pocket the watch.
Go outside. Your bike is chained to the rack out front of the dorm, as usual. Go to the playing fields. Settle on the hill overlooking one field and watch some guys playing soccer. One of them catches your eye. He looks familiar. Gino? Right--you remember him saying once that he came here to play soccer some mornings.
Move closer, to the edge of their playing area. Yeah, it is Gino. He sees you and grins that pouty grin and waves. He's a cute little motherfucker, and his clothes--a black tank tee-shirt, skin-tight yellow compression shorts thin enough to show the ghost lines of his underwear underneath, and running shoes--show off his body. Cheer him and his team on.
When the game breaks up, more because several players have to go to class than from a decisive victory, he comes over and, still breathing heavy, sits beside you. "Hey there! You see that last goal I made? It was so sweet! Bam!--I was right in there." He emphasizes by smacking his fist into his palm.
You're feeling something like desire, need, eagerness, whatever. You're very aware of something in your pocket, alongside your semi-hard cock.
You look at Gino, a challenging look straight in the eyes. "What?" he asks? After a moment he gets the message and looks around. "Listen," he says, quieter, "we can go into the woods across the field if you want to. I know this trail ..."
Bingo. Try not to sound too eager: "Okay. Show me."
He leads you, still yakking about the game, but pausing now and then to look at you like he's having second thoughts. You keep meeting his gaze with what you hope is an intensely seductive stare, and he doesn't back out. Gino takes you down this little trail. The woods are dense enough, a protective barrier away from buildings and interruptions.
The trail widens into a little clearing. Gino turns to you. This is it. Grab him when he approaches and kiss him. He tries to jerk away for a moment, like he's not into kissing, then his tongue probes deeply into your mouth. He's an inch shorter than you but that doesn't deter him. He pulls back. "Come on," he says as he peels his shirt off, "I have a class in half an hour."
He only shoves down his compression shorts and underwear. His body is bare from the knees up. You strip completely. His eyes are enflamed with desire, but his expression is carefully neutral. "Blow me," you say, brandishing your penis at him.
He shakes his head. "No--you blow me."
Bend down and pull the pocket watch from your discarded shorts. Straighten up. Suspend it in the air before Gino. He squints at it as a patch of sunlight through the trees flashes off of it. Tell him to look at it carefully. Doesn't he remember it? Yes?
"Hey, isn't that ..." he says, trailing off. But he doesn't look away.
Tell him to watch it carefully. Watch it swing. Back and forth. Isn't it familiar, pretty, fascinating. Focus. Relax. Concentrate. See how the sunlight shines on it? Back and forth. See the pattern that seems to draw pull the eye in? Focus. Concentrate on it. Listen. Let go. Relax. Concentrate. No distractions. Focus. So focused. So relaxed. Eyelids so heavy. So familiarly heavy. So easy. So loose and easy. Sleepy. So relaxed. Eyes closing. So sleepy. Sleep. Sleep.
His eyes close. His head drops slowly forward into sleep. You guide him through a deepening exercise you read in one of the hypnosis books in the library. Maybe they weren't all techno-babble after all.
Tell him he wants to blow you. He wants to make you feel good. He needs to. His expression changes subtly and he sinks to his knees in front of you. His mouth services you nicely. He knows how to suck a guy. One hand is busy in his crotch, doing himself, and the other toys with your balls. A finger slips back to poke your butt hole. You can't hold back. "I'm gonna cum," you grunt so he can pull off if he doesn't want to taste it. But he buries himself in your bush and swallows.
Pull your cock from his mouth. Time for his turn. Stand him up and turn him around. On your knees. Spread his ass cheeks and slip your tongue up to toy with his asshole. He's deeply relaxed and lets you do what you want. Do this for a while, then suggest, "Want to take off your shorts and lie down in the grass over there?" So he does. He's being more cooperative than you thought. Lie down alongside of him and kiss his nipples while you jerk his cock. Tell him it will be so intense. Tell him he's ready. Tell him to shoot. He cums all over your hand.
When you draw back and wipe his cum off on the grass, he doesn't move. Gino is breathing deeply, heavily. He's asleep, all right, but more than that. He doesn't wake up when you nudge him gently. He is still deeply entranced.
What can you make Gino do under your hypnotic influence? Order him to stand up, and he does, without seeming to wake up. Tell him to get dressed, and you climb back into your own clothes. You consider escorting him back to his dorm room for another round, but your nerve is wearing thin. Instead, you tell him to count to one hundred. When he hits one hundred, he will awake and feel refreshed, all memory of what just happened a blur. Then you leave. You figure the count will give you time to get a good distance away.
This is something new and you want to test it again. Go back to your dorm room. Steve's awake, on his back in bed reading a magazine. He's had a shower--his hair is still damp--and he's got on fresh, white briefs.
He looks over at you briefly when you come in. "Hey."
Stare at him until he looks at you again. Do you have the nerve?
"What?" he says.
"Nothing," you say. Then, "Here, I want to show you something."
Pull out the pocket watch and hold it up. Let it sway back and forth a little. Back and forth. Talk to Steve. Tell him to focus on it. Relax. All his attention. Relax. Let go. Relax. So heavy. So hard to think. No need to think. Focus. Relax. Concentrate. So familiar. Just like before.
You can tell it's happening. Slowly. It's subtle: you almost feel it more than see it happening.
He says, "Huh? What're you ...?" But his voice is thicker, his expression turning vacant.
Keep at him. Tell him how relaxed he must be feeling. So relaxed. Relaxing more. More and more. Relaxing. Heavy. Tired. Eyes heavy. Arms heavy. Eyes closing. So relaxed. So focused. So open. So sleepy. Sleepy. Sleepier. Sleep. Sleep now. Deeply asleep.
His eyes close and don't open again.
Tell him, "Put that magazine down and come here."
The magazine falls aside as he stands up.
"Take off your underwear."
"... O-okay ..." His voice is coagulated, distant. He takes them off. His cock isn't fully erect yet, but it's getting there. He listens to your suggestions. He follows them. Cooperative. He's yours. You haven't thought this far in advance, don't have any idea what to do with him. You tell him to put his hand on his cock and jack off. Take out your own hard-on and ask him to stroke it with his other hand, and he does. Kiss him. Tell him to kiss you back. Jack himself off. Jack you off. You cum suddenly, like biting through a shell into a lush orange slice. You shoot all over his hand and leg. You gasp and buck your way through it. As you're coming down, you give him his instruction: Cum. He does, as intensely as you.
Wipe up the cum. Tell him to get his underwear back on and lie down. Tell him to sleep. When he wakes, he'll think he napped and it was just a dream.
You, though, get dressed and back outside. The success has you feeling like you could explode or yell or party all night or something.
You don't really have anywhere to go, though, so you stroll around the campus, feeling energized and walking fast. Finally, tiring, you find a seat on one of the benches bordering the quad. You're thinking about Grant and whether you should go back and try it on him, and what he'd say if he knew what you'd done to his roomie Gino. You're almost tempted to tell him. "See?" you'd say. "He came on to me at the playing field, so I made him go to sleep and made him blow me." Then he'd stare at you in confusion as you grin triumphantly.
And then there he is, coming out of the Humanities building. Jeans, another gray tee-shirt, running shoes. You wave to Grant and he waves back, walks over. "Hey. How's it going?"
"Just fine," you say. "Getting out of class?"
"Naw. Had a meeting with my professor about my term paper. You?"
"Just taking it easy. Taking the afternoon off."
"Wish I could do that. Shit, I've got so much fucking shit to do."He has a seat on the other half of the bench, legs sprawled out in front of him and showing a shard of white sock between the cuff of his jeans and the top of his worn running shoes.
He starts to say something but doesn't--his eyes are fixed on something faraway, his expression glazes a little like he's daydreaming. You look at him, the side of his head, willing your gaze to bore straight through his skull as if probing for the thoughts beneath it.
"Grant?"
"Yeah?" His voice is distracted, far away.
"I've got something I want to show you." No one else is around. Hold it out in your hand.
Grant says, "What's that? A pocket watch?"
The light catches the engraving on the casing, and it flashes as you turn it back and forth.
"Yes. A very special one. You've seen it before, haven't you? You remember it? The special design that you can only see if you concentrate very carefully? You remember how carefully you had to concentrate." Tell him to focus. Focus on it. So focused. No distractions. No holding back. Let go. Concentrate. Relax. Body so tired. So heavy. Eyes so tired. So heavy. Arms and legs so limp. Too limp to move. No need to anyway. Eyelids so limp. Too limp to hold open. No need to anyway. Sagging closed. Yes. Relaxing. Concentrating. Focusing. Closing. Eyelids closing. Closing. Tired. Sleepy. Closing. Sleepy. Falling asleep. Falling deep into hypnotic sleep again. So deeply falling. So deeply sleeping. Sleep. Sleep deeply.
There's a lump in the crotch of his faded jeans. He's not going anywhere.
Doing this to him has you trembling, excited, your cock hard, so horny again. Now it's just a matter of cranking up the volume. After a couple of tries, you're getting the hang of this. Enjoying it. So easy to guide his thoughts into a hypnotic fugue he can't break out of and probably won't want to. He's all yours, maybe not even really thinking anymore.
Or maybe he's waiting for you to think for him. You can talk to him. Give him suggestions. Let him make it happen. Your words bypass his thoughts and affect his subconscious so strongly. Start him with some easy suggestions. Relax. Enjoy the feeling. Anchor himself here deep in this hypnotic trance. Love this feeling. He'll answer any question, follow almost any instruction. You say, "Grant, you're in love with me, aren't you."
He can't mistake it for a question. He whispers, "I dunno... Kind of..."
Indecisive. Just a crush? Doesn't matter--after you work with him a while, helping him accept the suggestion, he thinks he does love you now. You're getting a headache and you can't concentrate this intensely for much longer, but you're going to push it while it's here, to the limits, send him deeper. "I mean, you really love me. More than anything you've ever loved else, more than you ever even dreamed of loving anything else. Right?"
Hardly more than a slurred sigh: "... Yeah ... love you ..."
"You love me so much you'll do anything I tell you to, right away and without question. You'll never refuse me. Understand?"
"... Ye'h ... unnerst'n ..."
You have to pull back, tone it down. You're head is throbbing. The afternoon sun at your back is only as intense as before, but it strikes your eyes like something thermonuclear. You need to get somewhere out of its fury, someplace with plenty of aspirin for your head.
Tell Grant it will happen on the count of three. Open his eyes. Think himself awake. Remain deeply asleep inside. Deeply hypnotized. So willing to follow any suggestions you give.
One, two, three, and you snap your fingers. Beside you, Grant shudders and blinks and looks at you like he's not sure what happened or even if anything happened at all. There's a blank edge to his expression: the hypnotic fugue state.
He smiles at you like before. Try it out. Say to him, "It's sure a good day to work on your tan. Why don't you take off your shirt."
He does! He doesn't seem to think anything about it--just says, "Okay," and skins off. In this intense light, his trim, buffed torso glows. He's not tanned dark like you, but he's working on a golden, sun-kissed color.
"You like to go barefoot, don't you. It's a great day for it."
"Yeah, good idea." Off come his shoes and socks.
You'll have to think about what to do with him. Right now, your headache is crashing in waves over your skull and there's a roaring in your ears that makes thinking hard. "I'm going back to the dorm," you tell him; "I've got to get some aspirin for this headache."
"I've got some in my room," he says, eager to help. He stands up when you do, his books and discarded articles of clothing bundled under his arm, and he follows you back to the dorm. His attentiveness, never more than friendly or neighborly before--he was always more Steve's friend than yours--now reminds you of a puppy's playful affection. He's keeping things cool because you're in public--this campus isn't one-hundred-percent accepting, of course--but you can see he's getting more kinetic, more expectant, as you close in on the dorm.
As you exit the stairwell onto your floor, Grant dashes ahead. "I'll go get you some aspirin." By the time you get to his door, he's handing you the bottle of aspirin and a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in his room. Wash down a pair of pills. Thank him as you hand the bottle back. He offers to rub your temples, voice hushed because--well, who knows who might be listening to you in the hallway? You thank him but say you'd prefer to lie down a while. Ask him to join you. Tell him how happy it would make him to join you.
He follows you into your room. Steve isn't around, probably at class. Grant closes the door behind you and offers again to rub your temples.
"Okay," you say, too beat out to argue, "But take off the rest of your clothes first."
He grins widely and strips off his jeans and briefs. He stands there, smiling, letting you inspect his skin, his erection, waiting for permission to proceed. If his eyes didn't still have that distracted edge, you'd think he was completely awake. You take off your shirt and your shoes. He sprawls out on your bed and pats the mattress beside his thighs. "Sit down right here."
So you do. He pulls you back, your back against his chest and tight stomach. His limbs make a harbor that makes you feel safe and sheltered. You snuggle back against him, suddenly more fatigued than you realized. True to his word, he massages your scalp and forehead and neck and upper shoulders and upper arms. He has quite a talent for it and you tell him so.
"Shh," he hisses in your ear. "Be quiet and rest."
So you let him continue, your headache being replaced by tiredness and a groggy drowsiness.
When you rouse from your nap, Grant is still holding you. He's dozing too, in that almost-asleep state where you know you're falling asleep but are too far gone to wake up. Your turn to grin at him. Your headache is nearly gone, just a residual tightness over one eye. Close your eyes again and return to your nap for a while.
Grant wakes you by nibbling and nipping at your earlobe. His erection pokes at your waist, just above the waistband of your shorts. Affection, or is he hoping for some action?
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he murmurs. His voice is warm and seductive, and you're not immune to its implied promises. Roll over, and embrace him, and share a kiss. He rubs your half-hard prick through your shorts with his fingertips. He breaks the kiss to whisper, "Why don't you take off your shorts so I can take care of you right?"
Instead, you lie back. He gets the hint and unties the drawstring on your shorts. Slowly, so slowly he draws off your socks; then, when he reaches for the waistband and you lift your hips, he draws your shorts and briefs gently down and off with little tugs. Now you're both naked and erect.
Tell him to suck your cock. His mouth descends upon your stiff rod. He nurses it. He's pretty good--good enough that you know for sure he's done this before, and often enough that he isn't entirely straight. One hand works your nipples. The other probes at your asshole, like Gino did in the woods earlier. Which of them learned that from the other, you wonder.
"I'm about to shoot," you whisper to him, but he doesn't pull back; instead he presses in and swallows your load as you orgasm. He pulls back and stares straight into your eyes as he jerks his own cock. Stretches his neck up so that his lips reach yours. Kiss him, demandingly. His eyelids flutter against your face and his spine flexes and he ejaculates onto your leg.
You entwine in bed together, nuzzling and murmuring and kissing. The strength of your orgasm still lingers in your extremities. Grant is sweet and attentive. You find you've kind of misjudged him for thinking him aloof and superficial just because he's beautiful. You find yourself actually growing to like him.
Ignore the fact that Steve could return at any moment. It makes you nervous to be in bed with a guy when your roommate could walk in any time.
Around noon, Grant tells you to stay put and climbs out of bed. He won't tell you where he's going as he wrestles himself into his jeans, only that it's a surprise and you're to stay in bed. He pops his feet into his shoes, grabs his shirt, and waves as he exits.
Less than ten minutes later, he's back, carrying a tray of food from the cafeteria. He sits down on your bed, sets the tray down beside him. Two plates, both some kind of mystery meatloaf--not what you'd have chosen, probably, but the cafeteria isn't always known for variety. Or flavor--one dish usually tends to be as bland as another there. Meatloaf will do, and the veggies he chose are actually some you like.He feeds you, takes a few bites himself from his own plate while you're chewing. This ritual has the endearing charm of naïveté. When the meal is finished, the tray set aside, he climbs on top of you and lets you tug off his clothing article by article as he kisses you and tickles and squirms and pretends to resist.
You reach for your shorts and fish out the pocket watch. You're going to suspend it before his ready eyes and ease him back into that deep trance one last time before you have to wake him up.
The next morning, after Steve has showered and gone to class, Grant slips into your room. He's wearing only the briefs he slept in, which he slips off just before he slips into bed with you. He's ardent, his erection prodding yours. He's admiring your body with a lover's eyes that can see no flaws. You're complaining about being too skinny and wishing you had a gym-built body like him. He says he'd be glad to take you to the gym when he goes, but first... He keeps his eyes devilishly on yours as his stubbled chin scuffs down your abdomen on a collision course for your cock.
It's just after lunch when you make it to the gym with Grant. He's hard on himself, always pushing. He's easier on you, maybe because he's so fucking in love with you, but you're trying to push as hard as he does. Free weights and some weight machines. Both of you are sweating like pigs.
You cool down by checking out a basketball from the equipment room and shooting some hoops. A little informal hoop-shooting that never gets around to being too competitive or too much like an official one-on-one game. On one of the other courts, ten or so fraternity members are playing and yelling. One of them--he must be six foot three--catches your attention. He's not bad looking at all, and he's half a head above the rest of them. White t-shirt, some kind of striped athletic pants cut off into shorts, high tops with bunched white socks, a tiny diamond stud in his left ear. He's good, playing hard and drenched with sweat. They've been at it since before you and Grant got to the courts, and they're breaking up about the same time you and Grant decide to head to the showers. One last look--he's got his back to you as he makes plans to meet his departing friends later--and you head to the locker room.
There's nobody in the locker room when you walk in. Open your lockers and pull out your towels, peel off your sweat-wet gymwear. You head to the showers. Grant goes to the urinals to pee first.
Two rows of five showerheads, one row along each flanking wall. You go to the next to the last one on the left. When Grant comes in, out of all of them, he stands under the one right next to you. Not subtle, but he can hardly stand to be away from you. You really did a number on him yesterday. He's flirting with you, keeps grabbing at you, very touchy-feely. You're both getting hard.
Press him up against the wall, slide in close. Someone could walk in any second. You're reaching for his cock, parted lips about to meet his throat for a kiss, when you hear something behind you. It's that tall guy from the basketball court, flipping his towel over the rack by the entry. Jerk away from Grant, but it's too late. Tall Guy glares at you. No mistaking what he's seen, not with your dicks both hard and sticking straight out like that. He spits the word at you under his breath--"Faggots!"--as he takes the showerhead on the opposite wall, opposite corner from you, by the entry.
That does it. Turn off the water. You take three steps toward him. Hearing your feet on the wet tile, he turns, hands enveloped in soap lather. Challenge him with the angry fire in your eyes. He frowns back, doesn't turn away. Glower at him for a second... then storm past him, out of the showers. Grant follows you.
When Tall Guy exits the shower a couple of minutes later, when he grabs his towel and starts wrapping it around his waist as he rounds the corner, you're standing there. He jerks to a stop, almost colliding with you, your upraised arm, the pocket watch suspended at his eye-level.
"Careful," you say. "You don't want to run into my pocket watch." And, "It's such an interesting design, isn't it?" And, "Doesn't that intricate design just seem to catch your eye and hold it? Yes."
He peers at it, doesn't look away.
Tell him to watch it carefully. Look at it, as it sways and turns. See the design? See how complex it is; see how convoluted. How it draws in the eye? Always a new layer, a new design to see, further in. The more the eye looks, the more it sees. Yes. So easy to look deeper. See deeper. New levels. Unfolding designs. Concentrate. See? Focus. See? So easy. Focus. Concentrate. Yes. That's the way. Focus. Deeper. Look deeper. Inside. Eyes sinking into the design. Focus. Concentrate. Eyes tiring? Maybe a little? Yes? Relaxing? A little tired sensation in the corners of them? Yes? Spreading? Tired? Focused? Concentrating. Deeper. Relaxing. Tired. Sinking into it. Tired. Whole body, so tired. So exhausted and loose and relaxed. So tired. Sleepy. Eyes sleepy. Body sleepy. Thoughts sleepy. Eyes closing. Sleepy. So deep now. Sleeping so deeply. Sleep.
His body sways, eyes closed, head dropping slightly forward, lips parting. Push him back against the wall, firmly. Your hand has met a hairy chest framed by wide shoulders. At his waist, his hand relaxes, and the cinched towel ends slip free. The towel flutters down off his cock and body. He's four inches taller than you and outweighs you by eighty pounds of muscle. But his cocky attitude has faded with his expression. His relaxed body sags back against the wall under your hand, sinking down until his butt meets the floor. His cock rises like a spire, thick, long, dark, cut.
It's too dangerous here, too easy to get interrupted or caught. You could try to give him an order: "McNutt Dorm, Room 525, nine o'clock tonight. Be there." Your dorm room. But probably that wouldn't work after just this one trance. You've got to him deeply entranced, but a hundred later distractions might interfere.
Guide his body over to the full-length mirror. Aim him at his own reflection. Brown hair, darkened from the water. Brown eyes. His hairy pecs are shaped like hard slabs. He's a sexy guy. He knows it. Tell him to imagine his reflection is his ideal self, free of any imperfection--his face and body the way he's always dreamed they should look. Tell him how sexy he looks. How sexy he feels. Yes, his erection is a winner, long and thick.
Tell him to stroke his chest. There's a twitch in his cheeks as he tries to resist. Repeat the suggestion. His hand rises and glides over his pectorals. Tell him to relax. Accept. Surrender. Obey. Ask him if he wants to cum. He nods. The twitch again, but he nods. Tell him how easy it is--all he has to do is what you say it. How horny he is. How good it will feel. He doesn't twitch again. His body sags a bit. His surrender, his submission, is the sweetest part of this. He's practically reaching for his cock before you tell him to. Grinning, Grant is watching you and Tall Guy the way a tiger watches its prey.
Three minutes later, there's a load of Tall Guy's cum creeping down the mirror. He still has his deflating clock in his hand. You and Grant are dressed, ready to go. Tall Guy is still nude, standing before the mirror. His eyes are closed now--he's deeply asleep. Leave him there to sleep off his trance, which might take a few minutes. If anyone walks in on him... Well, in your opinion, it's what he deserves.
Turn and motion Grant to follow you. He's still grinning, horny, eager to get off himself. Head back to your room. Halfway there, you realize you forgot to get Tall Guy's name.
In your room, show Grant the pocket watch, talk him down, and take him straight to your bed. He's comfortably groggy and pliant. Strip him, then yourself. By now, your anger over Tall Guy has faded. You're feeling something entirely different. Pull Grant to you, a standing embrace that leads to toppling onto the bed. It takes just a few minutes of moaning, licking, sweating, swearing. He cums. You cum.
Part of you wonders why the hypnotist hasn't shown up in the last day and a half. You hope he'd be proud of you.
You're on the bed with Grant. Steve comes in. You jump, panicked, and snatch up the pocket watch from beside the bed. Steve is no sooner through the door than he's staring at you, then at the watch, starting to slide under the spell of what you're broadcasting, the way a radio antenna can't help but receive. Tell him to push the door closed. He takes his clothes off when you tell him to do that too, and sits on the side of your bed. Pull him down onto you. Now you can reach his hard-on and his head. Kiss his ear, murmur, "You're my slave; you will obey me," into it while his mind is receptive to suggestions. Cheesy, but maybe it will work. No luck--he twitches, fighting the suggestion. Too much, too soon. "Okay, never mind that," you tell him. Instead: "Just kiss me." Kiss, kiss and ask him to jack him off while you watch. He's close. When you give the word, he cums.
Seduction is best when it's new. This whole thing, this whole week, has been breathtaking. If you've been thinking of yourself as the seducer, then suddenly you also understand that this thing has seduced you too.
Wake up slowly. Glance at the clock. It's nearly nine in the morning. Sunlight spills everywhere through the window. Steve is stirring too, starting to wake.
Something is different about today. You're not sure what, but you're sure it is. Different.
You, in the briefs you sleep in, are sprawled under your bed covers.Steve, naked, had kicked his sheet aside sometime during the night. He rolls onto his back. His morning erection waves your way for a moment before settling alongside the trail of hair between his navel and pubes. He reaches for his headphones. Turns his CD player on. Settles back to listen to the CD.
His casual nakedness was an easy adjustment to make when you had him entranced. He welcomed the suggestion--didn't resist that one at all.
His leg moves in time to the beat; it makes his cock twitch too. You've been planning to make it do a lot more than just twitch, as soon as you finish waking up.
The quiet knocking interrupts you. Steve hasn't heard it over the music, but he looks over when you sit up. The bed covers bunch at your waist and lap, concealing your own erection. Call out, "It's open."
The knob turns. The door opens. "What's up, guys?" Grant slips in, Gino following him. They've both got on boxer shorts: basic white for Grant, dark blue paisley for Gino.
Grant slips onto your bed beside you--another easy change. Steve and Gino have been told not to mind, and they don't. Gino asks Steve what he's listening to, and they get to talking about the band.
Grant's feeling horny. "Just came by to see what you're up to," he says playfully. He pokes you and teases your chest with a finger.
"Not much. I gotta brush up on some notes today for an exam," you say.
Grant pushes the envelope with his mouth dangerously close to your ear. "Mmm, there's some anatomy notes right here I want to brush up against." His warm breath makes your pulse quicken. His finger teases the crotch of your briefs through the sheets.
"Oh, that," you say. "I already passed that test. I blew it away." Poke his nipple and grin.
His lips brush your earlobe, light as a promise. He whispers, "I know something else you can blow away." He has the sexiest grin.
Something over your shoulder catches Grant's eye. You turn and look where he looks. You see it too, and you know. You know what's different today.
Grant is slowly reaching over your shoulder. He leans into you, reaching. His bare shoulder presses yours.
He reels his hand back. The shiny silver pocket watch dangles from the end of its chain in his fingers.
The silver pocket watch he is lifting--the way the light shines off it as it turns--it catches your eye.
"That's it," he tells you. "Just watch it turn. Yeah. It's my turn." He holds it higher. "Hey, Gino, look here. Steve, take off those earphones a second. Look at this."
Past the pocket watch, you see Gino turn, Steve tug the headphones off over his face. They're looking over, at the watch in Grant's hand.
Grant reminds you how good it feels to relax. Gino's eyes are already fluttering. Yours too, a little. Already the drowsiness is settling over you again like a net. Grant reminds you all how easy it is to focus. You can feel it in the corners of your eyes. Feel them glazing, emptying. How tired you must be, Grant says, and how surely you must want to sleep.
Gino's eyes flutter and close, finally. His head droops forward.
So sleepy, Grant asserts. So easy to sleep.
Now Steve's eyes close, and his head settles against the mattress.
Yes, Grant says to you. So sleepy. So deeply asleep. Needing only to close your eyes and sink. Deep, relaxing sleep. You can't keep your eyes open. Body so heavy. Grant's hand on your shoulder, easing you back until you're prone on your bed. "Sleep," he says a final time, and you do.
Open your eyes when he asks you to. Your arms and legs are so heavy. You're so deeply asleep. You know this. Grant stands in the middle of the room. He still has that pocket watch in his hand.
Gino moves. His face looks so deeply entranced. His hands move. Push off his boxer shorts. His cock is hard, as hard as yours.
Push back the sheet when Grant says to. Slide off your briefs. You're naked now. Yeah, what he says is right: you're happier that way. You know that now. Your erection stands out like an antenna.
You're receiving the signal Grant is sending. All three of you--Steve, Gino, and you-- pull yourselves closer to him. On your knees. Reach up. Pull Grant's boxers down. He's steel-hard too, throbbing. He's grinning, looking down at you, heavy lidded eyes clouded with lust, a coming storm.
He steps free of his boxers. Naked. All of you gloriously naked.
Grant rubs his hand over your head. Steve's too. Gino is directly in front of Grant. Grant asks him to suck his cock, and Gino gobbles it down with easy familiarity.
Steve is sent around back, where he parts Grant's ass cheeks and sends his tongue between them to lap and lick.
You're told to stand. Kiss him. Play with his nipples. You do all these things enthusiastically.
Gino sucks Grant, with one hand around the base of Grant's cock, the other playing with his balls. Steve makes a lot of wet, slobbery noise at Grant's ass. Bend and suck at one of Grant's nipples with your mouth. Work the other with your fingers. Your other hand settles into the small of his back.
After a couple of minutes, a change. Grant asks you to kneel, directs your head into Gino's lap. Your mouth welcomes his salty, average-sized cock inside easily. Steve's bare ankle is pressed against your leg; you feel it when he moves. A warm wetness engulfs your erection--Steve's mouth.
Another leg presses up against yours. Whose? This one wears pants--you feel the fabric, rough against your bare skin. Look up between Gino's mouth and Grant's torso. Just in time to see a familiar hand close over Grant's, draw the pocket watch chain from his slackening grip. Grant's hand drifts limply down as the pocket watch hovers, is held, in front of him.
The man, back from whatever show appearances took him away. His familiar voice. Saying he came by to see how the changeover went. Telling Grant to relax too. Focus. Concentrate. Drift. Enjoy. No worries. No thoughts. Just relaxing. Sinking. Falling asleep again. Enjoy. Falling deeply asleep. So peaceful. Peaceful sleep.
Another change. Grant sprawled beside Steve's bed. Steve kneeling beside him, sucking. You beside Steve, sucking. Gino between you and Grant, sucking you, getting sucked by Grant. Feels great. So focused. So relaxed. Concentrating only on giving and getting the best blowjob ever. Slip a finger into Steve's butt. He accommodates, spreads his legs wider. Find his prostate. He moans appreciatively. Grant's finger invades your ass, and he finds that spot that sends little jolts of pleasure all through you.
The man says your names, one at a time, and you cum. Grant. Steve. You. Gino. Suddenly, your orgasm is there, right there, bursting over you, and you're there, you're shooting, shooting, and swallowing and shuddering, loving the feeling of your orgasm, and Steve's in your mouth, and Gino's as he sucks you. You're there, cumming so hard. So hard, just like the man said. Cumming so intensely. Time slowing. Cumming. Stretching out. Cumming.
Exhaustion settles over you with the afterglow. The man says so. He's pleased the first changeover went so well. The first of many, many. It's Grant's turn, for now. Yours will come again after everyone has had a turn. Your turn will come again, and you will have many opportunities to cum, many. But for now, wakefulness has turned to trance has turned to sleep. The man says so. He says your names again, one at a time, and your eyes close and you sink into sleep. Steve. Grant. Gino. You. | null | 5 | Authors/Wrestlr/SubjectToChange2.txt |
100,580 | Wrestlr | Subject to Change | You've done this, been here, before. Standing in the back of the mall bookstore, back by the magazines. It took you half an hour by bicycle to get here--it's far enough from the college you attend that you won't see anyone you know. Near closing time, too, late enough that nearly everyone has gone home already; you're already going to get back to the dorm after lights-out and you'll catch hell if you're caught sneaking in late again.
But there they are on the back row of the magazine racks. Behind the music mags and the teen rags on the bottom. Behind the lifestyle publications directly in front of you. Behind the muscle magazines just over your head and even behind the straight porn. On the back row: cellophane-wrapped gay porno mags. At nineteen and a half, you're old enough to buy; at this mall, you're far away from campus to buy in privacy.
You've already chosen the one you want, based on the visible parts of the smiling guy on the cover. You know the plan: as soon as that kid by the comics and that guy down by the hot-rod magazines go away, you'll reach up and grab it, maybe a skateboarding mag to put over it on the counter too, and head to the register. You'll stash it in your backpack the minute you're out of the store, pedal back to your dorm room like mad. Wait until after your roommate has gone the next morning to take it out and jerk off, and then hide it up in the ceiling tiles where he won't find it.
In the meantime, waiting until no one will see, you pretend interest in the headlines about new rock groups and new ways to work your upper deltoids, whatever those are.
The kid by the comics makes a selection and disappears. Two yards to your right, hot-rodder boy is taking his time, thumbing through the pages like it's the most important decision he'll ever make. Getting impatient, you run a fingernail against your tooth in distraction. You're so excited; nervous fidgets are the least of your problems--any second now you're going to spring a boner.
Your peripheral vision picks up the new guy as he walks up to the magazine rack to your left, five feet away. He looks at you like he recognizes you. You feign disinterest and don't look his way. He's looking at you, though; you can feel his eyes on you. Would he turn and run if you turned to him and yelled, "Get lost, faggot"?
Keep staring at the magazines. He says something to you--he says hello. Ignore him. His voice sounds familiar. You recognize it: that guy you, Steve, Gino, and Grant saw at a fraternity keg party you went to the other day, the hypnotist they brought in for entertainment. Maybe it's him. He got the four of you to come up on stage. You don't exactly remember what happened after you went onstage, but all four of you agree it was pretty cool. Now, though, he's delaying your agenda, so you try to ignore him.
He says hello again. Glance up. Yeah, it's the same guy--the Amazing Whatever-His-Name-Was. He seems to recognize you too. Say hey back, noncommittally. Go back to staring at the magazines. Ignore him. Maybe he'll go away.
He's looking over the magazines too. And talking to himself. He keeps saying the same things over and over. Focus. Relax. Stuff like that. You pretend intense interest on the magazines laid out before you. You've felt this way sometimes when you look at something a long time and get kinda mesmerized by it, the way you're not fully alert and can't look away. You're feeling calmer; you feel it slowly and it spreads through your shoulders and down through your spine and legs. Nothing matters as much as it did a minute ago--you've got time and you can out-wait these guys.
You're awfully tired. The bike ride over must have taken more out of you than you realized. You can't break the spell of what's come over you. You can't lift your head. You're feeling very sleepy and you can barely keep your eyes open. The man to your left slides up alongside you and drapes his arm around your shoulders. You don't fight it--the thought never even occurs to you. He leads you and you let him, down the aisle, out of the bookstore, out to the parking lot, past where your bike stands chained to the stands. You can't raise your drooping head, can't look at him, and things pass as shapes and colors before your semi-focused gaze. If the hard-on shows through the thin fabric of your jams, you don't care. Your world has reduced to the tired sensation that tingles through your limbs, and the blurs before your eyes, and the pressure of this man's arm against the back of your shirt.
He leads you to a car; later, when you wake up, you won't be able to remember the color or make. He opens the passenger door. The little light makes the interior seem inviting, and all you want is to climb in, stretch out, take a nap. But the man holds you back. He takes the backpack you've got slung over your right shoulder. It never occurs to you to mind or say no. He lifts your arms like sapling limbs, tugs your flimsy tee-shirt tail up and lifts it, pulls it off over your head and hands. Kneeling almost in your line of paralyzed sight, he unties your shoes. He deftly unties your drawstring and the material of your shorts caresses your thighs and calves as he guides them down. Feel your worries slipping away, so far away. No embarrassment--only arousal. He's right--this is such a turn-on. Your briefs glide down too at his touch, and your erection bobs free; it's so hard it hurts, and you ache for its release. Pressure on your bare shoulder: his hand guiding you into the open mouth of his car door. You sit on the seat, legs still dangling outside; he pulls off your shoes, draws your shorts and briefs over your bared feet, tucks your legs into the car and closes the door.
You're naked in a stranger's car. No, not really a stranger. You remember him from the kegger--remember him and trust him. He's getting in the driver's seat. You don't do this with strangers but he's not really a stranger, and you won't stop him. You're too sleepy. The seat jolts a little as he reaches over you and releases the catch, lowers the seat back until you're prone. He's kissing your neck. Feel yourself sink into the plush seat, sink into sleep, as if his soothing voice is coaxing the consciousness right out of you. His fingers close around your cock and jack it slowly, an added bonus. This delicious drowsiness is claiming you. Can't stay awake. Can't fight the feeling. Close your eyes and cum, an easy, effortless ejaculation that submerges you into the blankness of sleep.
CHAPTER: 2
You're flat on your back and there's light everywhere. Ignore it--it's so peaceful to remain asleep a little longer and then a little longer. But finally your eyes have to open. Must be mid-morning, the way the sun stampedes through your dorm room window. You squint in its fury. Sit up. Your roommate Steve's gone; you're alone.
You don't remember anything else about the night before. Even what you do remember seems too dreamlike to be real. There's that pleasant heaviness in your limbs, though, and that tingling fucked-out limpness in your cock. Push the covers back and swing your legs over the edge. You're naked--you always sleep in your briefs but this time you're naked. There are your clothes from last night and your backpack on the floor by your desk. Rub your hands across your eyes. It must have really happened. Must have been real.
The sunlight clears your head, makes you wake up. You stand up and go to your closet. There are these flecks on your stomach that could be dried cum. Check the sheets--no cum stains there. Was it real? Did you let a complete stranger strip you in a parking lot, put you in his car, and jack you off? Too many questions; no answers. You pull on a pair of briefs and shorts and a tee-shirt, and get your towel. Time to hit the showers.
Under the spray, alone in the showers: your time to think. From the kegger show last week, you remember the hypnotist. It's vague. Some kind of relaxing test exercise. Going up onstage with your friends. Then ... nothing until he was waking you up, later, backstage, after the end of show and sending you back into your lives. Nothing except how much you enjoyed the feeling, being hypnotized, being part of the show.From last night, you remember his voice, the relaxed feeling again, so cooperative again, how good it felt. Then... nothing.
Your dick hardens. It sidetracks you, makes you forget everything else. Your hand slides around it automatically. No one around. Touching yourself feels good. No distractions. No one around. Not much time. Pump your fist along your cock--the familiar rhythm. You think: Being hypnotized felt so great. Breathe in ragged bursts. Your legs almost buckle as the familiar feeling burns through your balls, then your body. And cum. Cum hard. Cum and cum and cum! Shoot your load hard, like bullets. Spent, you collapse into the afterglow against the shower wall, under the spray. The shower spray rinses it all away. A great way to start your day.
That night, your roommate Steve is there when you get back from the library, ten minutes before lights-out. He's sprawled out on his bed with his shirt and shoes off, reading a textbook. At not quite twenty yet, you're a trim, kind-of-muscular sophomore; two years older, he's a senior, a star on the tennis team. Your body is still a teenager's turning into a man's; his already is a man's. He looks up and says hello when you come in. He's got the casual manners and easy assurance of his nouveau riche family. Everything about him oozes new money, from his obviously expensive haircut, to his pristine white shorts, to his expensive taste in jewelry--tonight a gold-and-garnet ring on one finger, a little gold dragon dangling from a slim gold chain around his neck, and the thick, expensive gold watch on his wrist.
Steve puts the book aside, turns his attention to you: he wants to know what you were doing the night before, who you were with, what time you got in (after he went to sleep, apparently), and how much you had to drink--a lot obviously, since you were still sacked out and he couldn't wake you when he left for class that morning. You tell him you were out with a couple of friends and got drunk on tequila--he'll believe that even though you seldom drink. To celebrate one of the guys getting laid for the first time; that'll hook him into believing it. To the rest of his questions, plead that you don't remember. Let him think the tequila is to blame. He doesn't press.
Propped on one elbow, opposite knee cocked up to give you a good view of his body and the mound in his shorts, he's clueless about you: doesn't know you're gay, doesn't realize you've had a crush on him since you got assigned as roommates. He has caught you staring a few times at his body, and he probably thinks it's because he's got a damn good build while you're still kind of skinny from late adolescence, still filling out. He knows the effect he has on the chicks; he just hasn't connected it to the effect he has on you. He's beautiful. Dark blond hair and light brown eyes. Thick jawline with a little cleft in his chin. Wide chest with a little hair smeared across it. Great build from all the sports he plays. Nice ass, and what you've seen of the up-front equipment looks good too. He swaggers about the dorm room naked--more than he needs to just be going to or from the showers or changing clothes--with an athlete's casualness, and you've seen his cock a lot: almost always soft but sometimes part-hard in the morning when he walks past your bed en route to the bathroom down the hall to pee. You've never seen him fully hard, but he obviously packs more dick than you do.
Sit on your bed, facing him. He steers the talk to this girl he's asked out, where he's going to take her, how he plans to get laid. You have no doubt she'll put out for him; his instincts are good that way, and you've seen the women melt for him. You would too, you think, suddenly realizing you haven't been paying attention to his soliloquy. Not that he needs your input to keep his little speech rolling.
Lights-out passes while he's talking. You both know you'll get in trouble if you wait much longer. He shucks his shorts and slides his legs into his unmade bed. You start peeling clothing, down to just your briefs. Pull back the covers. The rule is: whoever is the last one in has to turn the overhead light out. Tonight, that's you.
As you stand up for the walk past the foot of Steve's bed to the switch by the door, your phone rings, the sudden sound jarring in the quiet night. Pick it up quickly, before the Resident Advisor hears it, and you say hello. Someone--a familiar man's voice--says your name and something else, a phrase that you recognize as special, and this pleasant lethargy steals over you. Suddenly. You must be more tired than you thought. Moving takes conscious effort. Sleepiness sneaks over you, overwhelms you, overcomes you. The few steps to the door become an eternity, and only your cock is rousing. You planned for your hand to reach for the light switch, but it closes on the door knob instead. You open the door and step into the darkened hallway beyond.
Part of you realizes this is like what you felt the night before. Part of you realizes the man is waiting for you. Your hard dick is tenting up the front of your briefs. The friction of fabric against flesh as you walk makes it throb for release.
Walk down the stairs, like sleepwalking, to the front entrance of the dorm. A shadow before one of the sets of glass double-doors. The doors lock automatically when shut, openable from the outside only by running a student ID through the reader. He cannot enter unless the door is opened for him. Your gaze focuses on the metal bar handle running across the glass door. Everything is lit by street lights from outside, the security light in the stairwell you just exited. The world appears underwater, and the sluggishness of your body confirms it. Push open the door. He enters in an eddy, a zephyr that swirls the currents around your tingling skin.
He's taller than you, but you cannot see his face clearly: too much effort, and it's too dark in here anyway. You'd rather look at the pocket watch he holds up into your face. You have the impression of dark clothes that feel expensive when his other arm slides around your shoulders. Let him use that arm to guide you back to your room.
He pushes open your door, ushers you through. Your relaxed desire is invitation enough, and he follows, closes the door behind him. You can't look away from him. It's like he's enthralled you just by being there or something.
He has this silver pocket watch. Looks expensive, in the low room light, ornately engraved. It dangles from a chain in his hand. He holds it up into the light. You remember it.
"Don't worry about Steve," the man says. "I came by earlier when you were gone. Steve and I had ourselves a nice, long conversation. Didn't we, Steve? Yes. A nice, relaxing conversation. Steve is an excellent subject. Aren't you, Steve? Yes, indeed."
He goes to Steve's bed. Tracking the man, your eyes take in Steve's face as the man stands beside his bed. Steve is awake, sort of. On his back, he's looking up at the man, at the man's swaying pocket watch, rapt as if seeing God. Steve's eyes are spellbound, heavy-lidded, and his expression is thick. His body relaxes, as the man talks to him, slowly sprawling out as the tension drains from his limbs. He's feeling what you're feeling. The man pulls back the sheets all the way to the foot of the bed, a progressive revelation of Steve's body. Steve is erect; you can see it straining at his white briefs. The man sits on the edge of Steve's bed, beside his thigh, and pulls the pouch of Steve's briefs aside to unveil a seven-inch-plus cock that hooks a little toward the left and down, then turns back up nearer the end. Uncut.
The man leans forward, his face hidden from you, to lick at Steve's nipple between suggestions. Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes open. Like the man's voice is narcotic or something. Steve is letting the man into his head. The man's mouth is at Steve's neck, kissing, nudging Steve's face to roll toward you. The man whispers gently into Steve's ear. His body hovers over Steve's, hand working Steve's cock between them. Steve's eyes glaze over, then close. His expression is blissful, quiet. He shudders when he cums.
The man stands, wipes off Steve's sperm on the sheets. He turns to you. One finger, still a little wet with Steve's semen, pokes into the waistband of your briefs and deftly slides the cloth down to free your erection. He is talking to you now. Telling you to relax, surrender, sleep. Your eyelids are slipping shut. That finger and its companions wrap around your dick and start stroking it. His other hand draws your body in, holds you close, and his head bends to kiss you. You open your jaw to let his tongue inside, but you're too far gone to respond with your own. This passivity pleases you as much as what you're feeling throughout your body and on your cock. He's laying you back on your bed, stretching himself out on top of you. Whispering, always whispering suggestions to you. His fingers are coaxing your cock. You give in willingly. Your cock feels like it shatters as the force of your orgasm quietly splinters through every part of you.
You linger in that heavy slumber as long as you can, unwilling to part with the lingering limpness. The covers coat you like a lover's saliva, and the dark peace of sleep protects you from everything.
But then as before, sunlight in your face gradually carries you to waking. You hear Steve stir, and you force your eyes open against the wall of sleep and the glare that challenges it from outside to see him climb from his bed and, yawning, sleepy-stumble to the closet for his towel and shaving kit before practically sleepwalking to the showers.
You feel even more zoned out than yesterday. Reach for the clock with sluggish fingers. Peer at it.Nearly dropped it onto your head accidentally: fingers so slumber-clumsy. It's nearly noon.
Steve's been in the showers for a while, and it's nearly half an hour before you can gather the strength to sit up. How did the man knock you out like this? Will it happen again tonight? Part of you thrills at this thought.
You're sitting with your legs over the side of the bed--covers bunched in your lap, your eyes barely open--when Steve comes back. He's whistling, feeling chipper now, post-shower. "Get up, sleepy-head," he teases as he spreads his towel over the back of his desk chair to dry. "Time to get moving," he says and grabs your covers and jerks them away. He nods, eyebrow cocked as he surveys your lap: "Nice equipment."
Look down. You've got a boner and, still freed from the pouch of your briefs by the man's dalliances, it curves up into the sunlit air. Grab the covers and slam them into your crotch to hide yourself. Feel the blood flare into your cheeks.
But Steve's already going his own way, to the closet for a fresh pair of briefs. Says, over his shoulder, "Don't worry about it, man; it happens to everybody." A t-shirt and shorts. Socks and athletic shoes. "I'm going running. Catch you later." Then he's gone.
Once the sound of Steve's voice and the closing door have cleared out of your head, you push the covers aside. Your cock is still hard. It has that "recently cum" feeling, but you're horny again. Stroke it. The skin sings to your touch. Retrieve Steve's undershorts where he discarded them. Press them to your nose. Inhale the smell of him. Press them to the tip of your cock as your world narrows to that shaft of flesh and you spurt your white jizm into the white fabric.
That horny feeling doesn't go away--it makes you want to do things all day. So you're open to it when a friend you tricked with once calls and says he and a couple of other guys you know are going dancing at this gay club across town and do you want to come along.
It's far enough away that your friends are the only people there who will know you. You're not old enough to get in--at nineteen and twenty, none of you are--but you have the cover charge and the fake IDs and the jaded looks that get you past the tired-looking bouncer. It's a weeknight, so nothing much is happening cruise-wise, but you're here to dance and drink and have a good time, and you do all three. You and your friends are there until the last possible moment, even though the joint is picking up toward the end and you're tempted to stay and risk trouble for getting back to the dorm after lights-out.
The high of beer and dancing and loud music and second-hand smoke--not all of it tobacco--still chimes through your head when you make it up the stairs to your dorm floor with two minutes to spare. Steve's already in your room, and he's in a slow seethe: the girl he took out tonight wouldn't put out--and got pretty insulting about it, to hear his side of it. You reek of beer and sweat and the smoky bar. You grab your towel and excuse yourself for a quick shower to blast the cigarette smoke and smell of stale booze off your body.
The overhead lights go out while you're under the warm water, all except the safety lights, enough to see by. You stand around a while under the spray, enjoying the caress of it. The beer buzz is fading faster than you'd have liked.
Back in your dorm room, sitting spread-kneed on the edge of your bed in your briefs as you rub the towel through your damp hair, you have to listen to Steve's rantings. The gist: this chick was an easy mark and laid this friend of his last week, and she was obviously into Steve and was really leading him on, so she had no fucking reason to say no like that when they both knew she wanted it.
Steve's in his underwear, staring at his body in the full-length mirror on the closet door by the light from his desk reading lamp. "She said I didn't have 'husband potential.' Can you believe that? That slut! No 'husband potential.' What the fuck did she mean by that? Look at this body--any guy would be proud to have a body like this!" That part at least is true, you think, trying not to look. "Is it my pecs? My arms? Do I need to do extra reps on the bench press?" He laughs, an angry sound that catches your attention. "Certainly don't need any improvement down below"--he squeezes his crotch forward into an obscene lump and shakes it at his reflection. Tongue stuck out. Grinning. "There's enough here to keep a bitch like her on her knees all night and still have her begging for more in the morning." He laughs again. Looks like he's semi-hard. Sure enough, he complains, "Damn! That bitch got me so worked up! What the fuck made her think she could she tease me like that and leave me dry? I'm so fucking horny. There ought to be a fucking law against screwing with a guy like that, y'know? A fucking law against it! Shit! What the fuck am I going to do now?"
His eyes are in shadow, but you feel them deflect off the mirror and onto you. You blush in spite of yourself and look away. "Hey ..."--his voice is quieter, mindful of the neighbors and thin walls, but there's a hard edge to it that pricks your hackles. "Is it true, what I hear about you on campus?"
Half of you wants to run, the other half to just die. You're fixed to the spot. Swallow hard. Uncertainty: "What did you hear?" Great!--Might as well hand him a full confession.
"I think you know what I hear. I think you can help me out here." He's turned to you, openly groping his definite hard-on through the flimsy underwear material.
"No way, man. I don't--"
Steve interrupts. "Shhh. I've known about you since you moved in. I know you've been wanting it." He pulls the elastic waistband down with a hooked thumb, strokes his exposed member with his other hand as he saunters toward you. Like a bird before a snake, you sit. You've wanted this so long you can't run, but you're so afraid you can't reach for it. He stands between your knees, with the tip of what you've dreamed about less than three inches from your lips. He takes the towel from your hands and discards it on your bed. He whispers, "Just a little? Just help me out a little. C'mon, I won't tell anyone. I swear. Help me out, just a little. Please?"
Lick your lips nervously. He takes it as an invitation and his rod begins its slow advance. Part your lips and meet it halfway. "That's it," he sighs. "You're good at this. I knew I was right about you."
His body sways above you, in rhythm with your bobbing head. He's being unusually quiet. Look up at him. Above the tight grid of his abs, above the expanse of Steve's solid pec muscles is a man's hand. It holds a silver pocket watch on a chain, dangling it a few inches in front of Steve's eyes. The man from before, embraces Steve from behind with an arm around Steve's chest. He whispers in Steve's ear. For a second, you wonder how he got in here, before the glittering silver pocket watch catches your eyes too, fills them, and you find you don't care. The thought slips away. The man provides support for Steve; Steve's head reclines back onto the man's shoulder. The man kisses the side of Steve's neck. The sight of the swaying pocket watch fascinates you too, and you almost stop sucking to get a look at it. But the man tells you to keep going, and you do.
The man eases Steve's unresisting body backward. Steve's cock pulls out of your mouth. The man says a final word into Steve's ear: "Cum." Steve's cock throbs and jerks and shoots onto your chin and neck and chest. With the warm wetness, you feel that pleasant weariness slouch through your whole body. The man hoists Steve easily, carries him to his bed, lays him out like a slumbering child. Then the man turns to you with the pocket watch extended. You're too gone already to avoid looking at it, even in this half-light. He tells you to relax, focus. Then he turns out the desk lamp.
The man comes to you. His hands behind your calves lift your legs up and cantilever your body onto the bed. His fingers on your chest--pressuring you back. His hand slides into your briefs. His body settles on yours like a cape of sleep. You settle in and enjoy the sensation. He's telling you to let go of something: consciousness, wakefulness, awareness, inhibition, care--you aren't sure what exactly, and you're sure you won't miss it anyway. He's giving you this feeling in return, this orgasm that ripples silvery through your body, this deep sleep that claims you.
It's after ten o'clock the next morning before you manage to rouse yourself. You can't face Steve after last night. Fortunately, he is still out cold, breathing deeply, snoring softly. The bright sun burns your eyes and seems to help wake you a little. You climb from the beckoning mattress, get dressed, grab your backpack, leave.
After a quick meal in the cafeteria, you hole up in the library, up in the top floors, back in the stacks where you know from experience few people go. The fifth floor, to the left and back to the next-to-last study carrel. That's your favorite; that's where you think the best.
What Steve did both excites you and terrifies you. But the ice has been broken. Maybe it'll happen again. Maybe next time he'll reciprocate. Maybe he'll fall in love with you instead of those "bitches" he screws. Does he remember what has happened twice now with the man? You don't think so; you pray he doesn't. You're not so sure yourself what happened after your eyes closed.
And what about the man: where does he fit into all of this? Was he the reason Steve came on to you last night? What does he want, and why you? And your darkest thought: will he come again?
Leave the library only for dinner, then hole up again.In the dim corridors and quiet of the stacks, your mind runs quicksilver through the possibilities, not paying any attention to the open textbooks in front of you. Search the catalog for reference books on hypnotism. The books are full of techno-babble. No answers in any of them and none come in response to your spiraling thoughts, only more questions. You're sure the man will be back. You can almost feel some kind of connection between him and yourself. He's always shown up around lights-out time; he'll be back tonight. Maybe that's an answer of sorts.
Awake with a start when the open book slides out of your lap and hits the floor. You'd drifted into sleep without realizing it. The groggy feeling fades a little, but you can't entirely shake it. You've stayed out as long as you can. Half an hour before lights-out. The library is closing. Someone will come around soon and evict you. Time to head back to the dorm.
Your dorm room door is propped open by the body of a man sitting on your floor, his back against the door. You recognize the torso, the shape of the head: Grant, who lives across the hall. Grant has blond hair and two earrings in his left lobe, and you've always found him attractive; you've always thought he could be had if you were careless enough to make a pass at him. But there has always too much chance of someone else in the dorm finding out, though; and when you're not fully out, you never shit where you live.
You have to step around him to get through your door. He's surprised, grins, says hello, moves out of your way. Jeans and bare feet. A face that's beautiful and destined for fashion-model handsomeness when the boyish edge fades. Age twenty-one. Sandy-blond hair cut short and so wavy it's almost curly. Blue eyes. About five-foot-eleven and one-seventy pounds. Shirttail out and front unbuttoned, his shirt flaps flutter open around his gym-toned muscles as he rolls aside. A glimpse of his well-defined, hairless chest and one pinkish nipple. He keeps grinning. You purposely let him catch you looking quickly as you say hi back.
His roommate, Gino, is standing by Steve's bed, showing Steve a straight skin magazine. He's trying to convince Steve, who's sprawled on his bed in his underwear, that the naked girl listed as being from your university in the magazine's annual "Sexy Girls of College" nude layout is in his biology class. Gino is Italian and his accent always strikes you as sexy as hell. The fact that--aside from a tiny quartz crystal on a gold chain around his neck--he's wearing nothing but a pair of tattered old denim cut-offs doesn't hurt either. Straight brown hair and eyes. Hairy legs--and as you know from the showers, a hairy ass--and a light peppering of hair across his chest and belly. An inch shorter than Grant and not as gym-developed, but about the same weight and age.
Steve is skeptical, and the argument doesn't seem to be advancing beyond the "is"/"isn't" line. You park your butt on your bed and unsling your backpack and pull off your shoes and socks. Enjoy the scenery for a moment--real fantasy fodder--but you're kind of hoping Gino and Grant will go away so you can see if Steve will try for another blow-job. Or maybe you should make a move now for a fantasy four-way. Yeah, right. As if you've got the guts to try that.
What really concerns you is that it's almost lights-out. Will the man come while they're here? Will they remember each other?
Glance at the door. Gino and Steve haven't noticed yet. Grant's still standing there, but he has turned around, looking at something outside, in the hallway now. His arms are crossed over his chest, but his expression is stunned, as if stoned. You're not hearing the man's voice yet, but Grant is. Past the edge of the door frame, you can see an occasional arc of the pocket watch as the man swings it in the hallway. As you watch, Grant's arms uncross and slowly sag, until they hang limp at his sides. That gray paisley shirt is drawn back off his shoulders--a single quiet, smooth motion that carries it down his arms and over his hands. You see it flutter past the doorway as the man discards it onto the hallway floor.
The man impels Grant into your room with a word and a gentle nudge; then he enters too, closes the door. Gino and Steve look up from the magazine. The man holds out the pocket watch. He talks about how intricate the engraving is, how it draws their eyes in, how there's a secret design deep inside that they can almost see if they concentrate hard enough, how surely they must remember how to concentrate and look for the secret design. Their expressions slowly start to go slack as he keeps talking, telling them to relax, focus, concentrate, relax, sleep. There's a practiced efficiency about him. His voice washes over you too, but it's directed at and stronger on them. The magazine tumbles from Gino's relaxed fingers and is ignored.
The man is standing behind Grant. He is looking at, smiling at, Steve and Gino. His voice tells the three of them what he's going to do, tells them it will be okay, to just relax and let it happen. His hands reach around to open Grant's button fly jeans. The jeans and briefs beneath decline Grant's legs. The man murmurs suggestions, instructions. Grant steps free of them, slowly, not exactly gracefully but not stumbling. Boxer tan line. He stands there, expectantly. His cock sticks straight out, a perfect ninety-degree jut with a slight lift at the head. He's cut and packing six inches; not ultra-thick but better than most you've seen. The man wraps his arms around Grant from behind, wraps one hand around Grant's cock. His lips whisper into Grant's ear. Grant gives in, gives it up, eyes closing, head dipping back onto the man's shoulder. His lips part in bliss, a private paradise. He cums.
You expect him to fall over when the man releases him, but he stands there, swaying but not falling. Like a sleepwalker under the man's control.
Gino is receptive to the man's suggestions. The man opens and unzips Gino's shorts. They drop to his ankles--no underwear--and Gino steps free of them in all his naked glory when the man asks him to. A bikini tan line. His cock tapers to its uncut tip. Average size and thickness. He's grinning a little, sleepily, anticipating. The man stands in front of him, one hand on Gino's shoulder and the other jerking his erection, leaning forward to speak close in Gino's ear as Gino's head sags forward. Somehow, Gino is letting him do what he wants, following the man's suggestions. Gino cums in hard-driven spurts, like rifle fire.
Steve smiles half-blankly and does not look away. He runs his briefs down when the man turns to him and asks him to, and Steve drops them off the side of the bed. His cock runs up along his belly, aimed at his navel. He waits as the man settles onto the bed, settles onto him, compels him down onto the sheets. Steve's face, turned toward you, is rapt, the expression religions always burden with similar labels. The man murmurs suggestions into Steve's ear. You only hear the last one, as the man tells him to, and he cums.
Your turn. The man approaches. Stand up obediently when he says. Lift your arms at his suggestion. He takes the hem of your tee-shirt and wrests it over your head. He pulls down your elastic-waist gym shorts and briefs. He maneuvers you down onto the bed. You're giving in, letting him take control. It's for the best, just like he says. In return, he gives you this intense feeling and the orgasm that permeates your senses, as his voice lulls you into slumber--deep, black blankness. | null | 1 | Authors/Wrestlr/www/SubjectToChange1.txt |
100,719 | Wrestlr | Subject to Change | You sleep through the night and most of the morning. It's nearly noon when you manage to pull yourself free of slumber and rouse up. Steve is still zonked out. Gino and Grant, and their clothes, are gone--the man must have returned them to their room after you went under.
Get dressed. Not too much time before the cafeteria gets crowded for lunch and you're starved.
You eat. Walk around the campus. Pass the dorms and frat houses, checking in vain for undressed bodies in the sun-washed windows. Toward the far side of the campus, the less developed part, there are roads that wind and trees and dense undergrowth lining both sides. Saunter down them: no destination for body or mind, just a way to walk and let your thoughts talk to one another.
End up returning to campus, across campus from your dorm. Take the sidewalk home. In the door and upstairs. Onto your hall.
It settles over you almost the moment you step from the stairwell. The man is here. You hear his voice filtering through a door or a thin wall. Your body wants to stop and wait for him to speak to you with that relaxing voice of his, to claim you. Your mind cannot make it move, but you continue on as if from inertia or some call. Suspended between your door and Gino and Grant's, you can hear him. Not in your room--in theirs. Your hand finds their knob somehow and turns it, and it opens to you. Step through, and the door quietly sways shut on its own.
The man is there, and his presence, his voice, fills the room in spite of the fact that he's talking softly and low. Grant and Gino are thoroughly under his control. They are between you and the man. Grant stands in profile to you; beyond him stands the man, facing you. The man is holding his pocket watch up in the air, as if holding it out to you, though he only suspends it before Grant's half-closed eyes. Grant's chest is bare, his shirt crumpled on the floor beside him, shorts clumped around his bare feet. Gino, also in profile, nude except for the briefs bunched around one ankle, kneels before Grant, holding Grant's thighs, head moving slowly at Grant's crotch. After a second, you realize: Gino is worshipping Grant's cock with his mouth. The man is talking to Grant, giving him suggestions, slowly, so agonizingly and sweetly slowly, easing him toward ecstasy.
The man's voice calms the back of your mind. Your eyes fasten onto the familiar pocket watch. You remember it from the show where you went up on stage. You know what looking at it, the intricate design means--it means you're deeply hypnotized already. He says something to you. Your hands move, almost of their own volition instead of his suggestion, and soon you're naked. And just as hard as they are. You stand there, watching.
The man eases Grant's body back, and Grant's hard-on slips from Gino's mouth with a pop. The man tells him to cum, cum now. Tremors in Grant's legs and abs mark his orgasm.
The man steps around Grant, who stands there, head bowed, eyes closed, sinking deeply into motionless sleep, and the man closes in on to Gino. His finger applies gentle pressure to the center of Gino's forehead. Gino sits back on his ass, then lies back on the floor. The man settles beside him. The man's suggestions guide you too now. Crouch beside Gino and work your head into his crotch, suck his cock. You work on Gino's rod with the dedication you feel for the man and his suggestions. Gino cums.
Stand when the man stands. As he turns toward the door, his finger traces your jaw line, ear to chin, and the touch makes your skin tingle, pleasant anticipation. He says you should follow him.
Follow him. He walks across the hall to your room. Follow him, naked, without fear of your dorm mates seeing. No one will see, no one will notice--it doesn't matter--and somehow you understand this.
Your dorm room doorway opens at his touch. Follow him inside. Steve sits on his bed, back to the headboard. Eyes closed. Already deeply asleep; deeply entranced. He wears only a pair of boxer shorts, obvious erection inside. A magazine abandoned on the bed beside him.
Steve slides down on his mattress when the man tells him to, lying down, sprawling out. Waiting. His hips rise up. His hands ease his boxers to his knees, at the man's suggestion, before his body sinks back to the surface of the bed, limp now. His hard cock lolls across his hip. The only motion is the nudge of his pulse beating in his cock, the slow rise and fall of his breathing.
The man goes to him, sits on the bed beside him, bending to speak quietly into Steve's ear. Steve's crotch is exposed--that's an opening for you. The man says something to you too, and you understand. Go to them. Kneel beside the bed. Take Steve's ready shaft in your hand and guide it into your mouth. Nurse it, slowly, gently. Coax it with your tongue. He groans. He cums.
The man sits up. His hands pull you toward him, and you kiss. His mouth--you love the feel of it, his narcotic kisses.
You sit on the bed, beside Steve's limp body. Still kissing. The man's hand on your shoulder, rolling you so his other hand, on your penis now, can pleasure you. You welcome the orgasm that he offers when he breaks the kiss and tells you to cum, cum hard now.
CHAPTER: 6
CORRECTED_TEXT:
You awake early. Just past dawn. You're jolted from sleep so suddenly you panic for a second. Your body still feels that torpidity; your dick still feels that fucked-out feeling. It happened again last night, but somehow you're awake and aware this morning. Steve is dead to the world still, sprawled atop his sheets.
Get some clothes. Get a shower. This early, you're alone in the showers. You're thinking about what has been happening lately, how good it feels, how relaxed and peaceful and sexy Steve and Gino and Grant look under the man's influence. Suddenly, under the spray, your morning-hard dick is the center of your attention and you can think of nothing else. Lean with one hand against the shower wall. Grasp your erection with the other. Feels so damn good. Jack it gently and feel it revel and send vibrations throughout your body. Speed up your strokes and it reveals something more intense, more imperative. You think: Being hypnotized felt so fucking great, better than sex. Your legs and balls are tightening. Your torso is bucking. You think: Wanna try hypnosis again. Cry out--that primal roar that could be pleasure or rage. Your cock strains and your body turns inside-out and goes red-hot and the scalding semen arcs into the air and smacks against the tile shower floor.
Slow your hand down; feel your breathing and heart slowly slow down to normal too. Fall back against the wall. This has been one of the most intense orgasms of your life, has left you deeply relaxed. Let all the worries go. Let go and pant quietly for a moment. Your cock, spent, softens and your awareness is broadening back out again.
Get shaved, get dressed. Your stomach rumbles hungrily, and you think about breakfast from the cafeteria. The sun is going to blaze today.
Steve is still asleep when you come back to the dorm room. Survey your near-naked body in the mirror. At nineteen and a half, you're a skinny Florida boy. Muscular enough for your age, but still waiting to fill out into full manhood and still intimidated by the bodies of the better developed guys around you in the dorm and the gym. Your hair is dark brown, like your eyes, and worn in one of the longish casual styles of the moment. Your chest is hairless. Your tan is enhanced by a naturally medium-dark complexion--which, with your bone structure, suggests Native American blood in your background. Your face is cute but not the godlike beauty you'd like to see reflected in the mirror. Your best features are your tan and the potential your body shows. Your cock, uncut, is a nice length and curves upward a little when it's hard. Your balls are perfectly average in size.
You've had sex with a handful of guys, but you've never been in love beyond a couple of crushes, like the one you've had on Steve since you met him. Certainly, physically, you're better than average, but nothing men would fall all over themselves to seduce.
All of this is getting you depressed. Get dressed. You're reaching for your keys on the dresser when you see it. The man's pocket watch and chain. Just sitting there next to your keys.Like a gift or something. You pick it up, toss it lightly in the air once and catch it. The pattern on the casing catches your eye but not quite in the same way. Maybe he forgot it? Hmm--this might have possibilities. Pocket the watch.
Go outside. Your bike is chained to the rack out front of the dorm, as usual. Go to the playing fields. Settle on the hill overlooking one field and watch some guys playing soccer. One of them catches your eye. He looks familiar. Gino? Right--you remember him saying once that he came here to play soccer some mornings.
Move closer, to the edge of their playing area. Yeah, it is Gino. He sees you and grins that pouty grin and waves. He's a cute little motherfucker, and his clothes--a black tank tee-shirt, skin-tight yellow compression shorts thin enough to show the ghost lines of his underwear underneath, and running shoes--show off his body. Cheer him and his team on.
When the game breaks up, more because several players have to go to class than from a decisive victory, he comes over and, still breathing heavily, sits beside you. "Hey there! You saw that last goal I made? It was so sweet! Bam!"--he emphasizes by smacking his fist into his palm--"I was right in there."
You're feeling something like desire, need, eagerness, whatever. You're very aware of something in your pocket, alongside your semi-hard cock.
You look at Gino, a challenging look straight in the eyes. "What?" he asks? After a moment he gets the message and looks around. "Listen," he says, quieter, "we can go into the woods across the field if you want to. I know this trail..."
Bingo. Try not to sound too eager: "Okay. Show me."
He leads you, still yakking about the game, but pausing now and then to look at you like he's having second thoughts. You keep meeting his gaze with what you hope is an intensely seductive stare, and he doesn't back out. Gino takes you down this little trail. The woods are dense enough, a protective barrier away from buildings and interruptions.
The trail widens into a little clearing. Gino turns to you. This is it. Grab him when he approaches and kiss him. He tries to jerk away for a moment, like he's not into kissing, then his tongue probes deeply into your mouth. He's an inch shorter than you but that doesn't deter him. He pulls back. "Come on," he says as he peels his shirt off, "I have a class in half an hour."
He only shoves down his compression shorts and underwear. His body is bare from the knees up. You strip completely. His eyes are enflamed with desire, but his expression is carefully neutral. "Blow me," you say, brandishing your penis at him.
He shakes his head. "No--you blow me."
Bend down and pull the pocket watch from your discarded shorts. Straighten up. Suspend it in the air before Gino. He squints at it as a patch of sunlight through the trees flashes off of it. Tell him to look at it carefully. Doesn't he remember it? Yes?
"Hey, isn't that..." he says, trailing off. But he doesn't look away.
Tell him to watch it carefully. Watch it swing. Back and forth. Isn't it familiar, pretty, fascinating. Focus. Relax. Concentrate. See how the sunlight shines on it? Back and forth. See the pattern that seems to draw pull the eye in? Focus. Concentrate on it. Listen. Let go. Relax. Concentrate. No distractions. Focus. So focused. So relaxed. Eyelids so heavy. So familiarly heavy. So easy. So loose and easy. Sleepy. So relaxed. Eyes closing. So sleepy. Sleep. Sleep.
His eyes close. His head drops slowly forward into sleep. You guide him through a deepening exercise you read in one of the hypnosis books in the library. Maybe they weren't all techno-babble after all.
Tell him he wants to blow you. He wants to make you feel good. He needs to. His expression changes subtly and he sinks to his knees in front of you. His mouth services you nicely. He knows how to suck a guy. One hand is busy in his crotch, doing himself, and the other toys with your balls. A finger slips back to poke your butt hole. You can't hold back. "I'm gonna cum," you grunt so he can pull off if he doesn't want to taste it. But he buries himself in your bush and swallows.
Pull your cock from his mouth. Time for his turn. Stand him up and turn him around. On your knees. Spread his ass cheeks and slip your tongue up to toy with his asshole. He's deeply relaxed and lets you do what you want. Do this for a while, then suggest, "Want to take off your shorts and lie down in the grass over there?" So he does. He's being more cooperative than you thought. Lie down alongside of him and kiss his nipples while you jerk his cock. Tell him it will be so intense. Tell him he's ready. Tell him to shoot. He cums all over your hand.
When you draw back and wipe his cum off on the grass, he doesn't move. Gino is breathing deeply, heavily. He's asleep, all right, but more than that. He doesn't wake up when you nudge him gently. He is still deeply entranced.
What can you make Gino do under your hypnotic influence? Order him to stand up, and he does, without seeming to wake up. Tell him to get dressed, and you climb back into your own clothes. You consider escorting him back to his dorm room for another round, but your nerve is wearing thin. Instead, you tell him to count to one hundred. When he hits one hundred, he will awake and feel refreshed, all memory of what just happened a blur. Then you leave. You figure the count will give you time to get a good distance away.
This is something new and you want to test it again. Go back to your dorm room. Steve's awake, on his back in bed reading a magazine. He's had a shower--his hair is still damp--and he's got on fresh, white briefs.
He looks over at you briefly when you come in. "Hey."
Stare at him until he looks at you again. Do you have the nerve?
"What?" he says.
"Nothing," you say. Then, "Here, I want to show you something."
Pull out the pocket watch and hold it up. Let it sway back and forth a little. Back and forth. Talk to Steve. Tell him to focus on it. Relax. All his attention. Relax. Let go. Relax. So heavy. So hard to think. No need to think. Focus. Relax. Concentrate. So familiar. Just like before.
You can tell it's happening. Slowly. It's subtle: you almost feel it more than see it happening.
He says, "Huh? What're you...?" But his voice is thicker, his expression turning vacant.
Keep at him. Tell him how relaxed he must be feeling. So relaxed. Relaxing more. More and more. Relaxing. Heavy. Tired. Eyes heavy. Arms heavy. Eyes closing. So relaxed. So focused. So open. So sleepy. Sleepy. Sleepier. Sleep. Sleep now. Deeply asleep.
His eyes close and don't open again.
Tell him, "Put that magazine down and come here."
The magazine falls aside as he stands up.
"Take off your underwear."
"... O-okay..." His voice is coagulated, distant. He takes them off. His cock isn't fully erect yet, but it's getting there. He listens to your suggestions. He follows them. Cooperative. He's yours. You haven't thought this far in advance, don't have any idea what to do with him. You tell him to put his hand on his cock and jack off. Take out your own hard-on and ask him to stroke it with his other hand, and he does. Kiss him. Tell him to kiss you back. Jack himself off. Jack you off. You cum suddenly, like biting through a shell into a lush orange slice. You shoot all over his hand and leg. You gasp and buck your way through it. As you're coming down, you give him his instruction: Cum. He does, as intensely as you.
Wipe up the cum. Tell him to get his underwear back on and lie down. Tell him to sleep. When he wakes, he'll think he napped and it was just a dream.
You, though, get dressed and back outside. The success has you feeling like you could explode or yell or party all night or something.
You don't really have anywhere to go, though, so you stroll around the campus, feeling energized and walking fast. Finally, tiring, you find a seat on one of the benches bordering the quad. You're thinking about Grant and whether you should go back and try it on him, and what he'd say if he knew what you'd done to his roomie Gino. You're almost tempted to tell him. "See?" you'd say. "He came on to me at the playing field, so I made him go to sleep and made him blow me." Then he'd stare at you in confusion as you grin triumphantly.
And then there he is, coming out of the Humanities building. Jeans, another gray tee-shirt, running shoes. You wave to Grant and he waves back, walks over. "Hey. How's it going?"
"Just fine," you say. "Getting out of class?"
"Naw. Had a meeting with my professor about my term paper. You?"
"Just taking it easy. Taking the afternoon off."
"Wish I could do that. Shit, I've got so much fucking shit to do." He has a seat on the other half of the bench, legs sprawled out in front of him and showing a shard of white sock between the cuff of his jeans and the top of his worn running shoes.
He starts to say something but doesn't--his eyes are fixed on something faraway, his expression glazes a little like he's daydreaming. You look at him, the side of his head, willing your gaze to bore straight through his skull as if probing for the thoughts beneath it.
"Grant?"
"Yeah?" His voice is distracted, far away.
"I've got something I want to show you." No one else is around. Hold out it in your hand.
Grant says, "What's that? A pocket watch?"
The light catches the engraving on the casing, and it flashes as you turn it back and forth.
"Yes. A very special one. You've seen it before, haven't you? You remember it? The special design that you can only see if you concentrate very carefully? You remember how carefully you had to concentrate." Tell him to focus. Focus on it. So focused. No distractions. No holding back. Let go. Concentrate.Relax. Body so tired. So heavy. Eyes so tired. So heavy. Arms and legs so limp. Too limp to move. No need to anyway. Eyelids so limp. Too limp to hold open. No need to anyway. Sagging closed. Yes. Relaxing. Concentrating. Focusing. Closing. Eyelids closing. Closing. Tired. Sleepy. Closing. Sleepy. Falling asleep. Falling deep into hypnotic sleep again. So deeply falling. So deeply sleeping. Sleep. Sleep deeply.
There's a lump in the crotch of his faded jeans. He's not going anywhere.
Doing this to him has you trembling, excited, your cock hard, so horny again. Now it's just a matter of cranking up the volume. After a couple of tries, you're getting the hang of this. Enjoying it. So easy to guide his thoughts into a hypnotic fugue he can't break out of and probably won't want to. He's all yours, maybe not even really thinking anymore.
Or maybe he's waiting for you to think for him. You can talk to him. Give him suggestions. Let him make it happen. Your words bypass his thoughts and affect his subconscious so strongly. Start him with some easy suggestions. Relax. Enjoy the feeling. Anchor himself here deep in this hypnotic trance. Love this feeling. He'll answer any question, follow almost any instruction. You say, "Grant, you're in love with me, aren't you."
He can't mistake it for a question. He whispers, "I don't know... Kind of..."
Indecisive. Just a crush? Doesn't matter--after you work with him a while, helping him accept the suggestion, he thinks he does love you now. You're getting a headache and you can't concentrate this intensely for much longer, but you're going to push it while it's here, to the limits, send him deeper. "I mean, you really love me. More than anything you've ever loved else, more than you ever even dreamed of loving anything else. Right?"
Hardly more than a slurred sigh: "... Yeah ... love you ..."
"You love me so much you'll do anything I tell you to, right away and without question. You'll never refuse me. Understand?"
"... Yeah ... understand..."
You have to pull back, tone it down. You're head is throbbing. The afternoon sun at your back is only as intense as before, but it strikes your eyes like something thermonuclear. You need to get somewhere out of its fury, someplace with plenty of aspirin for your head.
Tell Grant it will happen on the count of three. Open his eyes. Think himself awake. Remain deeply asleep inside. Deeply hypnotized. So willing to follow any suggestions you give.
One, two, three, and you snap your fingers. Beside you, Grant shudders and blinks and looks at you like he's not sure what happened or even if anything happened at all. There's a blank edge to his expression: the hypnotic fugue state.
He smiles at you like before. Try it out. Say to him, "It's sure a good day to work on your tan. Why don't you take off your shirt."
He does! He doesn't seem to think anything about it--just says, "Okay," and skins off. In this intense light, his trim, buffed torso glows. He's not tanned dark like you, but he's working on a golden, sun-kissed color.
"You like to go barefoot, don't you. It's a great day for it."
"Yeah, good idea." Off come his shoes and socks.
You'll have to think about what to do with him. Right now, your headache is crashing in waves over your skull and there's a roaring in your ears that makes thinking hard. "I'm going back to the dorm," you tell him; "I've got to get some aspirin for this headache."
"I've got some in my room," he says, eager to help. He stands up when you do, his books and discarded articles of clothing bundled under his arm, and he follows you back to the dorm. His attentiveness, never more than friendly or neighborly before--he was always more Steve's friend than yours--now reminds you of a puppy's playful affection. He's keeping things cool because you're in public--this campus isn't one-hundred-percent accepting, of course--but you can see he's getting more kinetic, more expectant, as you close in on the dorm.
As you exit the stairwell onto your floor, Grant dashes ahead. "I'll go get you some aspirin." By the time you get to his door, he's handing you the bottle of aspirin and a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in his room. Wash down a pair of pills. Thank him as you hand the bottle back. He offers to rub your temples, voice hushed because--well, who knows who might be listening to you in the hallway? You thank him but say you'd prefer to lie down a while. Ask him to join you. Tell him how happy it would make him to join you.
He follows you into your room. Steve isn't around, probably at class. Grant closes the door behind you and offers again to rub your temples.
"Okay," you say, too beat out to argue, "But take off the rest of your clothes first."
He grins widely and strips off his jeans and briefs. He stands there, smiling, letting you inspect his skin, his erection, waiting for permission to proceed. If his eyes didn't still have that distracted edge, you'd think he was completely awake. You take off your shirt and your shoes. He sprawls out on your bed and pats the mattress beside his thighs. "Sit down right here."
So you do. He pulls you back, your back against his chest and tight stomach. His limbs make a harbor that makes you feel safe and sheltered. You snuggle back against him, suddenly more fatigued than you realized. True to his word, he massages your scalp and forehead and neck and upper shoulders and upper arms. He has quite a talent for it and you tell him so.
"Shh," he hisses in your ear. "Be quiet and rest."
So you let him continue, your headache being replaced by tiredness and a groggy drowsiness.
When you rouse from your nap, Grant is still holding you. He's dozing too, in that almost-asleep state where you know you're falling asleep but are too far gone to wake up. Your turn to grin at him. Your headache is nearly gone, just a residual tightness over one eye. Close your eyes again and return to your nap for a while.
Grant wakes you by nibbling and nipping at your earlobe. His erection pokes at your waist, just above the waistband of your shorts. Affection, or is he hoping for some action?
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he murmurs. His voice is warm and seductive, and you're not immune to its implied promises. Roll over, and embrace him, and share a kiss. He rubs your half-hard prick through your shorts with his fingertips. He breaks the kiss to whisper, "Why don't you take off your shorts so I can take care of you right?"
Instead, you lie back. He gets the hint and unties the drawstring on your shorts. Slowly, so slowly he draws off your socks; then, when he reaches for the waistband and you lift your hips, he draws your shorts and briefs gently down and off with little tugs. Now you're both naked and erect.
Tell him to suck your cock. His mouth descends upon your stiff rod. He nurses it. He's pretty good--good enough that you know for sure he's done this before, and often enough that he isn't entirely straight. One hand works your nipples. The other probes at your asshole, like Gino did in the woods earlier. Which of them learned that from the other, you wonder.
"I'm about to shoot," you whisper to him, but he doesn't pull back; instead he presses in and swallows your load as you orgasm. He pulls back and stares straight into your eyes as he jerks his own cock. Stretches his neck up so that his lips reach yours. Kiss him, demandingly. His eyelids flutter against your face and his spine flexes and he ejaculates onto your leg.
You entwine in bed together, nuzzling and murmuring and kissing. The strength of your orgasm still lingers in your extremities. Grant is sweet and attentive. You find you've kind of misjudged him for thinking him aloof and superficial just because he's beautiful. You find yourself actually growing to like him.
Ignore the fact that Steve could return at any moment. It makes you nervous to be in bed with a guy when your roommate could walk in any time.
Around noon, Grant tells you to stay put and climbs out of bed. He won't tell you where he's going as he wrestles himself into his jeans, only that it's a surprise and you're to stay in bed. He pops his feet into his shoes, grabs his shirt, and waves as he exits.
Less than ten minutes later, he's back, carrying a tray of food from the cafeteria. He sits down on your bed, sets the tray down beside him. Two plates, both some kind of mystery meatloaf--not what you'd have chosen, probably, but the cafeteria isn't always known for variety. Or flavor--one dish usually tends to be as bland as another there. Meatloaf will do, and the veggies he chose are actually some you like. He feeds you, takes a few bites himself from his own plate while you're chewing. This ritual has the endearing charm of naïveté. When the meal is finished, the tray set aside, he climbs on top of you and lets you tug off his clothing article by article as he kisses you and tickles and squirms and pretends to resist.
You reach for your shorts and fish out the pocket watch. You're going to suspend it before his ready eyes and ease him back into that deep trance one last time before you have to wake him up.
7.
The next morning, after Steve has showered and gone to class, Grant slips into your room. He's wearing only the briefs he slept in, which he slips off just before he slips into bed with you. He's ardent, his erection prodding yours. He's admiring your body with a lover's eyes that can see no flaws. You're complaining about being too skinny and wishing you had a gym-built body like him. He says he'd be glad to take you to the gym when he goes, let you work out with him, but first... He keeps his eyes devilishly on yours as his stubbled chin scuffs down your abdomen on a collision course for your cock.
It's just after lunch when you make it to the gym with Grant.He's hard on himself, always pushing. He's easier on you, maybe because he's so fucking in love with you, but you're trying to push as hard as he does. Free weights and some weight machines. Both of you are sweating like pigs.
You cool down by checking out a basketball from the equipment room and shooting some hoops. A little informal hoop-shooting that never gets around to being too competitive or too much like an official one-on-one game. On one of the other courts, ten or so fraternity members are playing and yelling. One of them--he must be six feet three inches tall--catches your attention. He's not bad looking at all, and he's half a head above the rest of them. White t-shirt, some kind of striped athletic pants cut off into shorts, high tops with bunched white socks, a tiny diamond stud in his left ear. He's good, playing hard and drenched with sweat. They've been at it since before you and Grant got to the courts, and they're breaking up about the same time you and Grant decide to head to the showers. One last look--he's got his back to you as he makes plans to meet his departing friends later--and you head to the locker room.
There's nobody in the locker room when you walk in. Open your lockers and pull out your towels, peel off your sweat-wet gymwear. You head to the showers. Grant goes to the urinals to pee first.
Two rows of five showerheads, one row along each flanking wall. You go to the next to the last one on the left. When Grant comes in, out of all of them, he stands under the one right next to you. Not subtle, but he can hardly stand to be away from you. You really did a number on him yesterday. He's flirting with you, keeps grabbing at you, very touchy-feely. You're both getting hard.
Press him up against the wall, slide in close. Someone could walk in any second. You're reaching for his cock, parted lips about to meet his throat for a kiss, when you hear something behind you. It's that tall guy from the basketball court, flipping his towel over the rack by the entry. Jerk away from Grant, but it's too late. Tall Guy glares at you. No mistaking what he's seen, not with your dicks both hard and sticking straight out like that. He spits the word at you under his breath--"Faggots!"--as he takes the showerhead on the opposite wall, opposite corner from you, by the entry.
That does it. Turn off the water. You take three steps toward him. Hearing your feet on the wet tile, he turns, hands enveloped in soap lather. Challenge him with the angry fire in your eyes. He frowns back, doesn't turn away. Glower at him for a second ... then storm past him, out of the showers. Grant follows you.
When Tall Guy exits the shower a couple of minutes later, when he grabs his towel and starts wrapping it around his waist as he rounds the corner, you're standing there. He jerks to a stop, almost colliding with you, your upraised arm, the pocket watch suspended at his eye-level.
"Careful," you say. "You don't want to run into my pocket watch." And, "It's such an interesting design, isn't it?" And, "Doesn't that intricate design just seem to catch your eye and hold it? Yes."
He peers at it, doesn't look away.
Tell him to watch it carefully. Look at it, as it sways and turns. See the design? See how complex it is; see how convoluted. How it draws in the eye? Always a new layer, a new design to see, further in. The more the eye looks, the more it sees. Yes. So easy to look deeper. See deeper. New levels. Unfolding designs. Concentrate. See? Focus. See? So easy. Focus. Concentrate. Yes. That's the way. Focus. Deeper. Look deeper. Inside. Eyes sinking into the design. Focus. Concentrate. Eyes tiring? Maybe a little? Yes? Relaxing? A little tired sensation in the corners of them? Yes? Spreading? Tired? Focused? Concentrating. Deeper. Relaxing. Tired. Sinking into it. Tired. Whole body, so tired. So exhausted and loose and relaxed. So tired. Sleepy. Eyes sleepy. Body sleepy. Thoughts sleepy. Eyes closing. Sleepy. So deep now. Sleeping so deeply. Sleep.
His body sways, eyes closed, head dropping slightly forward, lips parting. Push him back against the wall, firmly. Your hand has met a hairy chest framed by wide shoulders. At his waist, his hand relaxes, and the cinched towel ends slip free. The towel flutters down off his cock and body. He's four inches taller than you and outweighs you by eighty pounds of muscle. But his cocky attitude has faded with his expression. His relaxed body sags back against the wall under your hand, sinking down until his butt meets the floor. His cock rises like a spire, thick, long, dark, cut.
It's too dangerous here, too easy to get interrupted or caught. You could try to give him an order: "McNutt Dorm, Room 525, nine o'clock tonight. Be there." Your dorm room. But probably that wouldn't work after just this one trance. You've got to him deeply entranced, but a hundred later distractions might interfere.
Guide his body over to the full-length mirror. Aim him at his own reflection. Brown hair, darkened from the water. Brown eyes. His hairy pecs are shaped like hard slabs. He's a sexy guy. He knows it. Tell him to imagine his reflection is his ideal self, free of any imperfection--his face and body the way he's always dreamed they should look. Tell him how sexy he looks. How sexy he feels. Yes, his erection is a winner, long and thick.
Tell him to stroke his chest. There's a twitch in his cheeks as he tries to resist. Repeat the suggestion. His hand rises and glides over his pectorals. Tell him to relax. Accept. Surrender. Obey. Ask him if he wants to cum. He nods. The twitch again, but he nods. Tell him how easy it is--all he has to do is what you say it. How horny he is. How good it will feel. He doesn't twitch again. His body sags a bit. His surrender, his submission, is the sweetest part of this. He's practically reaching for his cock before you tell him to. Grinning, Grant is watching you and Tall Guy the way a tiger watches its prey.
Three minutes later, there's a load of Tall Guy's cum creeping down the mirror. He still has his deflating clock in his hand. You and Grant are dressed, ready to go. Tall Guy is still nude, standing before the mirror. His eyes are closed now--he's deeply asleep. Leave him there to sleep off his trance, which might take a few minutes. If anyone walks in on him ... Well, in your opinion, it's what he deserves.
Turn and motion Grant to follow you. He's still grinning, horny, eager to get off himself. Head back to your room. Halfway there, you realize you forgot to get Tall Guy's name.
In your room, show Grant the pocket watch, talk him down, and take him straight to your bed. He's comfortably groggy and pliant. Strip him, then yourself. By now, your anger over Tall Guy has faded. You're feeling something entirely different. Pull Grant to you, a standing embrace that leads to toppling onto the bed. It takes just a few minutes of moaning, licking, sweating, swearing. He cums. You cum.
Part of you wonders why the hypnotist hasn't shown up in the last day and a half. You hope he'd be proud of you.
You're on the bed with Grant. Steve comes in. You jump, panicked, and snatch up the pocket watch from beside the bed. Steve is no sooner through the door than he's staring at you, then at the watch, starting to slide under the spell of what you're broadcasting, the way a radio antenna can't help but receive. Tell him to push the door closed. He takes his clothes off when you tell him to do that too, and sits on the side of your bed. Pull him down onto you. Now you can reach his hard-on and his head. Kiss his ear, murmur, "You're my slave; you will obey me," into it while his mind is receptive to suggestions. Cheesy, but maybe it will work. No luck--he twitches, fighting the suggestion. Too much, too soon. "Okay, never mind that," you tell him. Instead: "Just kiss me." Kiss, kiss and ask him to jack him off while you watch. He's close. When you give the word, he cums.
Seduction is best when it's new. This whole thing, this whole week, has been breathtaking. If you've been thinking of yourself as the seducer, then suddenly you also understand that this thing has seduced you too.
8.
Wake up slowly. Glance at the clock. It's nearly nine in the morning. Sunlight spills everywhere through the window. Steve is stirring too, starting to wake.
Something is different about today. You're not sure what, but you're sure it is. Different.
You, in the briefs you sleep in, are sprawled under your bed covers. Steve, naked, had kicked his sheet aside sometime during the night. He rolls on his back. His morning hard-on waves your way for a moment before settling alongside the trail of hair between his navel and pubes. He reaches for his headphones. Turns his CD player on. Settles back to listen to the CD.
His casual nakedness was an easy adjustment to make when you had him entranced. He welcomed the suggestion--didn't resist that one at all.
His leg moves in time to the beat; it makes his cock twitch too. You've been planning to make it do a lot more than just twitch, as soon as you finish waking up.
The quiet knocking interrupts you. Steve hasn't heard it over the music, but he looks over when you sit up. The bed covers bunch at your waist and lap, concealing your own woody. Call out, "It's open."
The knob turns. The door opens. "What's up, guys?" Grant slips in, Gino following him. They've both got on boxer shorts: basic white for Grant, dark blue paisley for Gino.
Grant slips onto your bed beside you--another easy change. Steve and Gino have been told not to mind, and they don't. Gino asks Steve what he's listening to, and they get to talking about the band.
Grant's feeling horny. "Just came by to see what you're up to," he says playfully.He pokes you and teases your chest with a finger.
"Not much. I have to brush up on some notes today for an exam," you say.
Grant pushes the envelope with his mouth dangerously close to your ear. "Mmm, there are some anatomy notes right here I want to brush up against." His warm breath makes your pulse quicken. His finger teases the crotch of your briefs through the sheets.
"Oh, that," you say. "I already passed that test. I aced it." Poke his nipple and grin.
His lips brush your earlobe, light as a promise. He whispers, "I know something else you can ace." He has the sexiest grin.
Something over your shoulder catches Grant's eye. You turn and look where he looks. You see it too, and you know. You know what's different today.
Grant is slowly reaching over your shoulder. He leans into you, reaching. His bare shoulder presses against yours.
He reels his hand back. The shiny silver pocket watch dangles from the end of its chain in his fingers.
The silver pocket watch he is lifting--the way the light shines off it as it turns--it catches your eye.
"That's it," he tells you. "Just watch it turn. Yeah. It's my turn." He holds it higher. "Hey, Gino, look here. Steve, take off those headphones a second. Look at this."
Past the pocket watch, you see Gino turn, Steve tug the headphones off over his face. They're looking over, at the watch in Grant's hand.
Grant reminds you how good it feels to relax. Gino's eyes are already fluttering. Yours too, a little. Already the drowsiness is settling over you again like a net. Grant reminds you all how easy it is to focus. You can feel it in the corners of your eyes. Feel them glazing, emptying. How tired you must be, Grant says, and how surely you must want to sleep.
Gino's eyes flutter and close, finally. His head droops forward.
So sleepy, Grant asserts. So easy to sleep.
Now Steve's eyes close, and his head settles against the mattress.
Yes, Grant says to you. So sleepy. So deeply asleep. Needing only to close your eyes and sink. Deep, relaxing sleep. You can't keep your eyes open. Your body is so heavy. Grant's hand on your shoulder, easing you back until you're prone on your bed. "Sleep," he says a final time, and you do.
Open your eyes when he asks you to. Your arms and legs are so heavy. You're so deeply asleep. You know this. Grant stands in the middle of the room. He still has that pocket watch in his hand.
Gino moves. His face looks so deeply entranced. His hands move. Push off his boxer shorts. His cock is hard, as hard as yours.
Push back the sheet when Grant says to. Slide off your briefs. You're naked now. Yeah, what he says is right: you're happier that way. You know that now. Your erection stands out like an antenna.
You're receiving the signal Grant is sending. All three of you--Steve, Gino, and you-- pull yourselves closer to him. On your knees. Reach up. Pull Grant's boxers down. He's steel-hard too, throbbing. He's grinning, looking down at you, heavy-lidded eyes clouded with lust, a coming storm.
He steps free of his boxers. Naked. All of you gloriously naked.
Grant rubs his hand over your head. Steve's too. Gino is directly in front of Grant. Grant asks him to suck his cock, and Gino gobbles it down with easy familiarity.
Steve is sent around back, where he parts Grant's ass cheeks and sends his tongue between them to lap and lick.
You're told to stand. Kiss him. Play with his nipples. You do all these things enthusiastically.
Gino sucks Grant, with one hand around the base of Grant's cock, the other playing with his balls. Steve makes a lot of wet, slobbery noise at Grant's ass. Bend and suck at one of Grant's nipples with your mouth. Work the other with your fingers. Your other hand settles into the small of his back.
After a couple of minutes, a change. Grant asks you to kneel, directs your head into Gino's lap. Your mouth welcomes his salty, average-sized cock inside easily. Steve's bare ankle is pressed against your leg; you feel it when he moves. A warm wetness engulfs your erection--Steve's mouth.
Another leg presses up against yours. Whose? This one wears pants--you feel the fabric, rough against your bare skin. Look up between Gino's mouth and Grant's torso. Just in time to see a familiar hand close over Grant's, draw the pocket watch chain from his slackening grip. Grant's hand drifts limply down as the pocket watch hovers, is held, in front of him.
The man, back from whatever show appearances took him away. His familiar voice. Saying he came by to see how the changeover went. Telling Grant to relax too. Focus. Concentrate. Drift. Enjoy. No worries. No thoughts. Just relaxing. Sinking. Falling asleep again. Enjoy. Falling deeply asleep. So peaceful. Peaceful sleep.
Another change. Grant sprawled beside Steve's bed. Steve kneeling beside him, sucking. You beside Steve, sucking. Gino between you and Grant, sucking you, getting sucked by Grant. Feels great. So focused. So relaxed. Concentrating only on giving and getting the best blowjob ever. Slip a finger into Steve's butt. He accommodates, spreads his legs wider. Find his prostate. He moans appreciatively. Grant's finger invades your ass, and he finds that spot that sends little jolts of pleasure all through you.
The man says your names, one at a time, and you cum. Grant. Steve. You. Gino. Suddenly, your orgasm is there, right there, bursting over you, and you're there, you're shooting, shooting, and swallowing and shuddering, loving the feeling of your orgasm, and Steve's in your mouth, and Gino's as he sucks you. You're there, cumming so hard. So hard, just like the man said. Cumming so intensely. Time slowing. Cumming. Stretching out. Cumming.
Exhaustion settles over you with the afterglow. The man says so. He's pleased the first changeover went so well. The first of many, many. It's Grant's turn, for now. Yours will come again after everyone has had a turn. Your turn will come again, and you will have many opportunities to cum, many. But for now, wakefulness has turned to trance has turned to sleep. The man says so. Every good job like that deserves a little nap. He says so. He says your names again, one at a time, and your eyes close and you sink into sleep. Steve. Grant. Gino. You. | null | 5 | Authors/Wrestlr/www/SubjectToChange2.txt |
100,753 | geekWriter | Doppleganger I- II- III | You'd think this would begin like most stories..."It all started when I was a child..."
Nope. It all started a few weeks ago when I woke up without a dick. Yup, you read correctly. I went to sleep with a johnson and a set of balls, and I woke up with a peach. To say it was strange would be an understatement. I didn't figure it out until I went into the bathroom, pulled up the lid, and proceeded to piss all over my legs. The boxers I had gone to sleep in had felt a little big, but I didn't really notice until I pulled them down and pissed on myself.
I looked at myself in the mirror, then down between my legs, then the mirror, then my legs about 20 times before my heart started hammering in my chest and I had to sit down. I reached a hand between my legs and felt the folds of skin that had replaced my 8-inch snake. Distracted as I was by my lack of cock, my hand did what it does naturally when it finds a warm pussy in front of it, it began to play.
The waves of pleasure that rocked through me made me bite my lip and arch my back. The moan that escaped my lips was still that of a man, but the feelings that coursed through my body were not. I continued to play with myself, inserting a finger into my now wet slit, rubbing my other hand over my clit until I had the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life. Instead of tingling all over and then the feeling rushing out of my penis, I felt a bomb go off in my groin and set my body on fire. I collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily.
As I came back to reality, I decided that a shower would clear up my head as well as the pee still on my leg. Stripping off my t-shirt exposed my hairy chest and developed pecs. It was disconcerting to see a manly upper body with the plumbing of a woman. Shaking my head, I turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up.
I ducked in and wet my body, my hands running over my chest, arms, and legs. It all felt the same except for the plumbing. I washed my legs off, soaping up my pussy to get it nice and clean. It started to stir the feelings in me once more. "What the hell..." I said to myself as I soaped up my butt with one hand and played with my clit with the other. I moved the soapy hand from my back to my front, soaping up my chest. I pictured the woman I had been with the night before and remembered a trick or two that had driven her wild. Bending slightly, I slid two fingers into myself while I rubbed my thumb across my clit. I remembered her bountiful chest heaving back and forth as she moaned. As I approached my second orgasm, I felt the muscles in my chest soften and ripen into two delicious-looking breasts. I turned into the water and washed the soap off. The hair on my chest had gone with the soap, leaving me with a set of beautiful breasts.
My jaw dropped as I squeezed my left nipple and felt a rush of pleasure, enough to pair with the stimulation of my pussy and send me over the edge. I collapsed to the floor, two fingers still inside me.
My mind raced. "Could I change my shape??" I caught my breath, rinsed off, and got out of the shower. Looking in the mirror, I saw my head, broad shoulders, two perfect breasts (they looked about a 36D), a flat hairless stomach, a luscious pussy, and two strong and hairy legs.
I took a deep breath and concentrated on my face. I imagined what I would look like with no five o'clock shadow. Nothing happened. I imagined what I would look like with long hair. Nothing happened.
I took a second and realized I had been going about it the wrong way. I thought about Angela, the woman I had been with the night before. The breasts I was ogling were exactly like hers, even down to the two freckles under her left nipple. I imagined her body, her thin waist, her heart-shaped ass, her supple skin, her long auburn hair, her green eyes... I closed my eyes as my body began to change. I could feel my shoulders shrinking, my waist coming in, and my hips going out. Along with the physical changes were emotional and hormonal changes as well. My thought patterns changed.
When I felt it was done, I opened my eyes and saw Angela standing in front of me. A slow, lazy smile parted my lush red lips. I put a hand on my hip and winked, and giggled when I saw my reflection. The giggle even sounded high-pitched. I stood there in amazement. I was 100% woman now.
A thought intruded into my pleasure. "Can you change back??" I bit my lip in a cute pout and thought about it. Well, no better time than now. I thought about what I looked like last night before I went to bed. Suddenly I felt heavier, stronger, masculine.
I opened my eyes to see me in the mirror. I said, "Hello" and heard my normal voice in my ears. Now that I had been so critical of my shape, I noticed that I had a little paunch and that my upper body could use a little toning. With a mental nudge that was a lot easier than I thought, my upper body got bigger and harder, and my stomach ripped into a washboard.
Laughing out loud, I realized that I could do anything I wanted. One more experiment.
I thought about Alicia, my ultimate fantasy. She wasn't one woman, she was many. I had taken all of the best traits from women I had dated in the past and combined them into one 'girl'. She was the one I thought of in the shower during dry spells with women.
I put my hands on my chest and pictured her in my mind. I kept my eyes open as I saw the flesh on my chest melt and reform into a pair of 38D's. The muscles and hair melted away from my china-white skin as the hair on my head got shorter, blacker, and straighter. Lips filled out and got redder, nose thinner and a little longer, eyes slightly almond-shaped. The weight around my waist moved lower on my hips as my waist drew in. As my thighs got more shapely and my eyes changed to green, I knew the transformation was complete.
"It's a question of picturing what you want to look like rather than seeing what you would look like," I thought to myself.
"You catch on quickly!" a voice inside my head spoke, with a hint of laughter.
CHAPTER: Chapter II
I blinked twice. "I didn't just hear another voice in my head. No, definitely not."
"Umm, yeah sweetie, you did. You aren't imagining me, it's really another voice in your head."
The voice sounded female. I rolled my eyes and thought about my real form. Once again, I was male, but with a much more toned body. And "Ahem", a longer, thicker rod. I figure if this isn't real, I might as well have fun. And if it is and it wears off, I always wanted to be bigger.
Okay, so here is where I was. I woke up this morning without a dick, played with myself until I had a female orgasm (which blows away a guy's orgasm, by the way), took a shower and realized that I could shift my shape between male and female. Oh yeah, and now I was hearing another voice in my head.
"That about sums it up, sweet cheeks." I could almost hear the laughter. "Where are you in the world?" the voice asked.
"Houston, Texas," I answered out loud. Well, I am sure that I could have 'spoken' in my head, but I was having enough trouble digesting the fact that 15 minutes ago, I had a pussy.
"Oh good. You need to come see me in Austin. Thank god it's not that far. The last one was in Seattle!!" "Last one? Last one what?" "Don't worry. You gonna get your buns out here, or what?" "Uhh, I guess I don't have a choice?" "Nope, you sure don't. Get movin'!" "Wait...Hello? HELLO?!?"
Well, whoever she was, she sounded sure of herself, and cute! What was the worst that could happen? Okay, wait. No, I didn't just say that. I take it back. Aww, fuck.
I got dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed my keys, slipped on my sandals and sunglasses, and jumped into my car. I had a lot of time during the four-hour drive to think about what was happening to me. Was I upset? Hmm, no, not really. Was I scared? Come to think of it, no. Was I a bit freaked? Awwww yeah, boy! Got that one right. I was 26 years old, I worked as a bartender, and I lived alone. And oh yeah, I could change sex whenever I wanted to. Whoa...
As I screamed at the top of my lungs out of the top of my convertible to vent a little of the weirdness, I felt a little better. I had decided against changing while I was driving so I didn't cause an accident, and the voice was silent, even after trying to speak many times. I was driving up into the hill country, getting close to the outskirts of town when she came back into my head.
"Getting close, eh?" "Yeah, how did you know?" "It's a secret!" "Gawd, okay. Where am I going?"She gave me directions to a burger joint near 6th Street that I think I had been to once before. I parked outside, put up the top, and locked the car. I stood there for a few minutes, leaning against my car, trying to calm myself. As I was about to take the plunge, I heard her voice once more, except in my ears instead of in my head and right behind me.
"Oooh, nice buns..." she drawled slowly.
I turned around to face... Alicia.
(For those who didn't read the first part, Alicia isn't real except in my head. She is a combination of several women I have dated.)
My jaw dropped as her grin got wider. She walked up and shut my gaping jaw with one long, red-painted fingernail. She was just as I had imagined she would look. She had her ample chest encased in a tight white t-shirt, ass-hugging shorts, short cropped black hair, and sparkling blue eyes. I was totally speechless. She whacked me in the butt as she walked by me and said, "Come on..." as she walked into the restaurant. I shook my head and followed her luscious, bouncing booty into the joint.
She walked up to the hostess stand, caught the girl's attention, and gave her name. She turned around and moved back toward me. She put her hands on my shoulders, pushing me into the seat, and sat in my lap. She wiggled for a minute, making me harder than I had ever been in my life. I felt the blood rush away from my brain and into my pants as she whispered breathily in my ear, "Don't change here, okay? We are just going to talk..." She punctuated the last word with a lick of her tongue along the outside of my ear. I slid my arms around her and pulled her in closer as her tongue teased my ear. This went on for a few minutes until they called "Nikki?" and she popped off my lap, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the front.
The hostess was checking us both out the whole walk to the table, not even hiding the fact that she was staring at Nikki's endowments and my package. She sat us in a corner and told us our server would be with us shortly. We looked at the menus, ordered meals and drinks, and then she turned to me once the waiter had brought our drinks.
"You, my friend, are what is known as a Doppelganger." She smiled and sat back, taking a sip of her drink, letting it sink in. I'll admit I knew very little about it except for the monster in D&D that looked really funky.
"So I can change my shape into anything I want? Male or Female?" She nodded. "Not just either sex, but combinations, extra parts, fantasy-type stuff." I was confused. "You mean I can be a Furry, with two dicks and a pair of tits on my back?" She grinned and didn't say anything. Okay, this is really strange.
"Why?" Her expression turned sweet as she said, "We can help people who deserve it. Plus, our powers wane if you use them only for self-benefit." "So what... We fulfill people's fantasies by becoming what they most desire? How?" "I don't know how it works. You'll begin to hear a person's thoughts who is deserving. How that is determined, I don't know. It'll start as a whisper and get stronger as you search them out. Once you figure out who the subject is, you'll be able to see what they are most wanting, most desiring."
Conversation turned to neutral things as the waiter brought the food, taking several extra moments to put her dish down so he could stare at her nipples poking through the shirt. We ate and talked about music and other things. Finishing up the meal, I paid the bill and turned to her, saying, "You said 'we' and 'our'. I take it that you are one too?"
She smiled and nodded. "When a 'new' one of us is created, the closest one usually gets a special feeling. You and me, and a girl in Seattle are the only ones I know of in the US. There are plenty around, just not sure how to find any others unless I get a 'call', you know what I mean?"
I nodded, not really understanding the specifics, but I caught the general idea. "So what do I do now?" She grinned wickedly and slid across the booth until our thighs were touching. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pushing her cleavage against my arm, and whispered in my ear once more. "We go back to my place, do some experimenting, and enjoy ourselves, yes?" She finished the sentence with another lick of my ear, but this time she slid it into my ear. I never thought a wet-willie could turn me on, but my cock was rock solid in 30 seconds flat.
I dropped the money for the bill, took her hand, and made my way to the exit. We practically ran into the parking lot and over to my car. She let go of my hand and kept going, yelling, "Follow!" I jumped in my car, pulled out, and saw her red Camaro reverse quickly and turn, peeling out of the parking lot. The sexual tension that had been building throughout dinner was so thick you could smell it in the air. In fact, as I was driving, I could smell something distinct still. I wondered about it for a few minutes before hearing her voice in my head.
"It's our scent. You are more animal than human really. Know about pheromones?" "Yeah, what about them?" "You are more sensitive to them now." "So you're saying I can smell you from back here?" She giggled, saying, "Yeah. Besides, if you weren't sensitive to the pheromones I am giving off, you should be able to smell my hot, wet, pussy from back there anyway. I have never been this fired up in my whole life. You better be ready, my friend...."
My mostly hard dick turned to granite in my pants as we sat at a light. She was staring at me in her rearview mirror and winked as the light turned green. She made a left turn and pulled into the second driveway. I pulled in right behind her and shut off my car. I climbed out as she ran up the stairs, beckoning me with her eyes. The smell in the air was even stronger now that we were close, it was almost intoxicating. I locked my car and pelted up the stairs after her.
I practically ran through the open door into her foyer and heard it slam shut behind me. She was standing there against the door with a look of pure lust in her eyes. The smell in the air was intoxicating. It was the smell of flowers, and spice, and for lack of a better term, pure heat. I felt slightly lightheaded as I moved back to the door and smothered her lips with mine. Her tongue rammed down my throat as she wrapped her arms and legs around me. I put my hands under her ass and held her against the door, grinding my hips into hers, losing myself in the ecstasy of the moment.
She moaned deep in her throat as her hands gripped my shirt by the shoulders. She clenched her legs around my waist as she ripped her hands up and out, taking my now tattered shirt with her. I leaned back in shock as she dropped the tatters of my shirt and ended up flat on my back two seconds later as she swept my legs out from under me. There was a wild look in her eyes as she made short work of my jeans and underwear. She licked her lips as she exposed my fully erect johnson. The head was purpled and swollen as she slid a hand around it and caressed it lightly. Her touch was so light, it made every inch of my dick yearn to be inside her. She licked her full red lips and engulfed my turgid member between her lips. She sucked on the head as her tongue licked into the hole in the tip. Her hand was beginning to move faster and faster as my senses were driven wild.
I began to gasp and moan and writhe on the floor as her head dipped lower and lower with each stroke. She began to moan deeply in her throat and play with my balls as I teetered near the edge. She must have known I was about to come because she jammed my whole cock into her mouth and down her throat, her tongue bathing the base of my cock with warm saliva. I screamed her name, "NNNNNIIIIIKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and blew the most powerful orgasm into her waiting mouth and down her throat.
The next thing I knew was the feeling of her mouth on my cock once more. She was cleaning it up as it began to relax and go down. She looked up at me and realized that I had come back from the planet she had sent me to and kept playing with my spent member as she moved up and gave me a long, wet, passionate kiss. I could taste the remnants of my seed in her mouth, and smell her powerfully once more. The kiss became deeper and more passionate as I reached for her heaving chest. She broke the kiss and stood up.
"You can't do me right on the floor, come on." She reached down and gave me a hand up, I fairly flew off the floor - she was so strong. Something was not what it appeared for a girl of her size to pull me up so easily. She must have been reading my mind when she said, "Questions later, Fucking now..."
Chapter III
I dismissed the thousand questions that were bouncing around in my head. It was easy to dismiss because of the shapely ass gliding quickly down the hall in front of me. Her apartment wasn't huge, but it was nicely furnished. I passed a bookshelf in the hallway as she passed into her room, pulling off her shirt as she went around the corner, grinning wildly at me.
I turned the corner and got the best ass shot a man could ever ask for. She was bending over, pulling off her pants, and her panty-clad buns were just itching to be clutched. I ran my hands over her hips and back over her perfect globes, caressing her skin as I hooked my fingers in her panties. She stood up as I pulled them down, and I almost fell over as I was overwhelmed by the smells emanating from her. It wasn't fishy or nasty, it was pure sex. An earthy, musky scent practically poured out of the cleft between her legs as I knelt in front of her, breathing it in. I felt her hands on the sides of my head urge me upright into a standing position. I felt like I was in a dream, standing here with the woman of my dreams, naked, her wanting me.The gleam in her eye said just about everything that needed to be as she took my hand. She pulled me towards a king-size bed in the corner and sat me down gently. The look on her face was loving and gentle as she said, "I'll answer everything later, just make love to me, okay?" She smiled as I just nodded, unable to speak.
We climbed to the middle of the bed where she laid me down on my back and climbed on top of me, straddling my hips. I could feel her pussy on my erect member, it was hot, wet, and ready for lovin'. She put her hands on my chest and slid her hot pussy up and down along my cock, coating it with her slick juices. I could feel the heat emanating from her loins as I breathed in her scent, stronger than ever. I put my hands on her hips and lifted my head slightly, licking her left nipple as it passed close to my face. Her face changed from a dazzling smile to a sexy moue as she pursed her lips and said, "Mmmmm, again." Suiting her wishes to actions, I pulled my right hand off her undulating hip and cupped her firm warm breast. The areola was surprisingly small, but her nipple stuck out like a small finger, inviting me to suck on it.
I caressed her tit as I licked the nipple and got the response I wanted. She sucked air in between her teeth and shifted her hips forward. I licked it again as she positioned my nine-inch member at the opening to her pussy. I pulled my hips down and seated the head in the folds of her labia as I began to nibble and suck on her nipple, my left hand pushing down slightly on her hip. She had the same idea in mind as she moaned and slid slowly down my cock. I couldn't believe how slick and so tight her pussy was, we both moaned in unison. I noticed another smell now as we worked my cock into her tight wet pussy, I had a feeling that it somehow came from me. She was biting her lip and breathing heavily as our pubic hair meshed together, our hands locked in each other's flesh. I felt like I was having a whole-body orgasm or something. I didn't feel like I was going to ejaculate in the next few minutes, but my whole body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve was so sensitive, I swear I could feel the folds on the inside of her pussy.
She rocked her hips slightly, her mouth open in a silent "O" of pleasure. I reached up and stroked her nipples, causing her to gasp loudly. "OH man, I can't take it....fuck me hard and fast baby, I HAVE to come!!!"
Not wanting to argue with a sexy goddess, I managed to push her over onto her back without dislocating her hips and keep my dick sheathed in her pussy. She was urging me loudly now, "Now, now now...hurry!!!" As I pulled my cock out until the head was just inside her slit, she screamed with pleasure. The head of my cock was swollen and almost painful. A nice hard fuckin' would take care of that.
I pushed back into her, her head thrashing from side to side, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. I began to piston my cock in and out of her, making her massive globes bounce wildly. I pulled her legs up to my shoulders for a different angle and really started ramming it into her. Her loud 'Oh Oh OH OH's' were the only counterpoint to my animal grunting as I fucked her. I could feel the walls tighten in her cunt as my balls started to twitch so I pulled her legs apart and practically lifted her off the bed, slamming my meat into her waiting hole.
Her eyes shot open and she looked at me. I nodded telling her I was almost there. She smiled and cried, "Yes Baby! Now Now!!!OH GAWD!!!!" and arched her back as I came with her, dumping a gallon of semen into her waiting vessel. I collapsed onto her and rolled partially to the side, my body still moving inside her. I could feel the heat of her body, but strangely the scent wasn't as strong. I could still smell it, but it was a lot fainter. What I smelled now was sex and sweat, and it smelled almost as good.
I kept my dick inside her until I felt it go soft and slip out of her, our breathing gradually slowing. She shook her head and turned to look at me, smiling. She stuck out her hand and said, "Hi, I'm Nikki Quinn, and I am a doppelganger." Her grip was strong as hell, but I forgot it as I almost fell into her beautiful blue eyes. She giggled, making her large mammaries jiggle and shake. I felt my cock begin to stir once more. I was amazed by the effect she was having on me physically.
She rolled away from me and off the bed, and walked through another door I imagined was the bathroom. I heard the tap running and laid back to get my bearings. I was lying on a king-size bed facing an entertainment center that did NOT look like it was bought at IKEA, a flatscreen TV with a stereo and DVD player next to it. The vases that had been set at different points in the system looked expensive, as did the silk sheets I had just loved this goddess on.
There was a small table next to the bed with a picture of an older man in it. He gave me more of an Uncle or Father feeling than boyfriend. He was gray-haired, and looked about early 50s. I laid back on the bed as she came back out of the bathroom, crossed her arms over her chest and smiled at me.
"Guess you have quite a few questions, but let me try and fill you in first, it'll take a lot less time."
I nodded and she leaned back against the door.
"You can assume any shape you want at any time." She suited actions to words as this large-breasted blonde morphed into a six-foot black man with an enormous penis. My jaw dropped and she chuckled in a deep melodious voice. She continued, "You may change as much as you like, but there is a limit. You MUST fulfill fantasies as you become aware of them, this is really important." Her skin changed color and she shrank once more into a female form. She had changed her shape into that of a small Japanese woman with straight black hair and the same blue eyes. The curves were not as exaggerated as before, but she was curvy where it counted. I found my cock coming back to life.
"I ignored a fantasy once, and I was stuck in the form I had assumed until Sheila called me, she's the one in Seattle. We can be with one another and give fluids back and forth without having to spend any, but it's dangerous to go too long in one shape as you might get stuck."
She began to shift again, this time her hair was brown, and she was more plain looking. "You can always assume your original shape without worrying about it, but who wants to be plain??" She grinned and her shape changed slightly, her breasts becoming firmer and higher, her waist coming in, and her hips flaring slightly. Her hair shone more and curled a bit until she was stunning once more. "It's the fluids that you secrete that help you change. Every time you fulfill a fantasy, the person's fluids replenish yours and help you to change, understand?"
I nodded saying, "I use the fluid to change into whatever they are thinking about, and it's replenished every time they come, right?"
She nodded as her body changed once more, this time shocking me a bit. The man I saw in front of me was the man I saw in the mirror every morning except for two things. His eyes were blue where mine were green, and his dick was thicker and longer. Nikki spoke with my voice saying, "Close your eyes and smell me. See if you can pick up on my fantasy. Don't force yourself," she added as I began to tense up. "Just smell me, and try and let your body flow with it."
I relaxed and began to inhale her scent once more. The first thing I noticed was that it didn't smell all that great to me and it was different than before. As I began to try to separate the distinct smells out, I felt my body begin to change. I sat up on the bed and moved to the side so my feet were flat on the floor. As I felt myself getting shorter, the smell changed. It got less bitter and a little sweeter. I pulled in my cock and exchanged it for a labia and vaginal canal. The smell began to get nicer and nicer as I changed the plumbing inside me to have ovaries instead of scrotum, mammary glands on top of my pectoral muscles.
As I continued to separate the smells out, each one almost telling my body what to do, the smell got sweeter and stronger. I felt my skin tingle and my hair began to grow and kink into tight curls. When I felt that the change had finished, I opened my eyes to see Nikki smiling at me. I looked down at myself and realized that I was a dark-skinned black woman. I looked in the mirror on the back of the door and saw a beautiful woman staring back at me, high firm breasts capped with chocolate-colored areola and nipples the width of a dime. I stood up next to Nikki and turned to stare at my firm ass and shapely thighs. The smell in the room became more powerful as I looked at him putting his hands on my shoulders, his cock stiff, poking me in my lower back.
I looked up at him, "Your smell changed as I became a woman. Is that because you didn't want to be with a man?" He nodded. It was strange seeing me standing next to me. Come to think of it, it was strange to see me staring out of a luscious black woman's body. His hands tightened on my shoulders as he whispered, "See if you can smell/feel what I want. What is my fantasy? Relax and let it flow, you're doing great..."
I closed my eyes and turned around to face him. His hands stayed on my shoulders, not leading me in any direction. The scent coming off of his body was setting my pussy on fire. I could already feel my juices lubricating the folds of my labia, just aching to be touched. As I sorted out the scent I began to understand some of what he wanted.
I turned him and moved him back into a chair near the bed. He sat down with a grin on his face and a gleam in his eye but said nothing. My pussy was really starting to itch as I climbed onto the edge of the bed and sat down with my legs spread wide apart.I cupped my left breast, bringing it up to my lips so I could lick the nipple. I swore I felt a spark pass between my tongue and my nipple as I sucked the long fleshy thing into my mouth. My eyes never left his as he began to stroke his cock slowly. I squeezed my tit while I sucked it, and slowly slid my hand down to my waiting pussy. I teased myself by running my fingers around but not touching the velvety folds of my waiting slit. I got more and more turned on, finally sliding a finger deep into my cunt. The effect it had on him was amazing to watch, and set my skin on fire. There must be some kind of correlation between the fantasy coming true and the effect it had on me. Obviously part of his fantasy was to watch a beautiful black woman masturbate. I needed to figure the rest of it out now.
I slid in a second finger and pushed my thumb against my clit. I moaned loudly as I thumbed my clit each time I pushed my fingers inside myself. I watched him and 'reached' out for his scent. The effect that it had on me was amazing. I felt my ass set aflame. My anus got itchy and hot, and I got more and more turned on. I kept up the fingers in my pussy until I realized that he wanted to fuck me in the ass. I came just thinking about it, arching my back and squeezing my tit with a loud "Oh". As I came down, I slid my fingers out of my cunt. I pulled my leg up higher on the bed, spreading my legs even further. Looking over at him, he was massaging the end of his cock with his hand, it was the size and color of a plum. Never taking my eyes off of his beautiful cock, I pulled my cheek to one side and slid one slick finger into my hot waiting asshole.
"Oh my god..." was all he moaned and started jacking off faster. "Save it baby, you wanna fuck me in the ass, right?" I was amazed at how sexy my voice sounded. I was pretty amazed that I was getting hot and horny about being fucked in the ass by a man, but I was following the scent. I reasoned that the body I was in was behaving the way it should because when I looked up again, he was out of the chair and up next to the bed. He inhaled deeply through his nose, picking up the scent that was emanating from me. It was a mixture of my body's scent and my hot pussy. I kept my finger going in and out of my ass as I reached over with my other hand and brought his big cock to my mouth and licked the head. This sent fire through my body and I engulfed his dick until I felt it hit the back of my mouth. I pulled up slightly and jammed the whole thing into my throat.
His moaning was accompanied by his hands pulling my cheeks apart and his tongue licking my puckered anus. I got his dick all nice and slippery with my saliva and turned around so my knees were on the edge of the bed. I put his cock head on the eye of my ass and licked my full lips. "You wanna fuck my ass huh? You ready for my tight little ass? You want to shove your big meaty cock in my little asshole?" He just nodded and pushed forward, guiding it in. It was pretty uncomfortable until the plum-shaped head popped into the opening.
It felt like nothing else I have ever felt before as he slid each massive inch of his cock into my hot horny ass. He pushed in an inch, came back, pushed in two, came back two, pushed in three, and so on until I felt his balls rest against my slit. I dropped my chest down to the bed so my tits were mashed on the bed and turned my head to look back. The look of ecstasy on his face filled me with a burning need.
"Oh god, what the fuck are you waiting for you bastard? Fuck my butthole! Fuck my ass with your hot meaty cock! God damn hurry up and fuck me!!!"
His eyes shot open and almost rolled back in his head as he grabbed the globes of my ass and pulled almost all the way out. He slammed back into me as I shouted, "Yeah, like that. Fuck me hard! Fuck my ass baby, yeah!"
I reached back and fondled his balls every time he bottomed out in my ass. Hearing him grunt and groan as he tried to pack every inch of his cock into my willing ass was music to my ears, and fire on my skin. Every inch of my body was electric, mostly concentrated around the skin of my asshole sheathing his pole. I moaned "Oh god oh god....I am yours, anything you want as long as you keep fuckin my butthole...Yes, fuck it yeah fuck...fuuuucccckk!!!" I began to frig my clit as I felt his strokes speed up and his cock get harder. I knew he was about to come and I wanted to come too.
"Uh huh... oh yeah BABY, come in my asss!!! Dump your love in my asshole...MMmmmmmm Ohhhhhhh!!"
He jammed his dick deeper than ever and dumped pure fire into me, setting my electrified body aflame. I screamed at the top of my lungs as I felt my spirit lifted into the clouds. All I could feel was the fire coursing through my body and a strange changing. I was taking his seed and making it into the fluid I needed. Now I understood how it worked. I floated in pure bliss for a few moments more and finally fell back to earth.
He was lying next to me, his cock spent. He was breathing heavily as he began to change back into a woman. I noticed that his smell changed as he became she. I let go of the body I was in and fell back into my old one. I could detect two smells in the room now. One was definitely me, and the other was Nikki.
"Well Kel, I think you've got the hang of it now..." she smiled as she leaned over and gave me a kiss. I felt energized instead of exhausted as we kissed slowly. I felt my desire stir slightly until she broke off the kiss and pulled me off the bed, easily.
She giggled, "Oh yeah. That." I nodded, waiting for her to continue.
"You will always have the same mass. As you get smaller, you get denser to pack it all in. That's why it's easier to be short with huge boobs and hips. Before I started, I was about 5'11", so I have to pack it down a bit to fit in this form." Nikki had assumed the body of my ultimate, Alicia, once more. "Since you like this one, I'll keep it for a little while."
Her grin coincided with a surge of pheromones, causing the blood to surge to my dick and get granite hard in seconds. "How'd you like to try my fantasy out on me? I've never been fucked in the ass, and you sure look like you enjoyed me sticking my cock in you..." I nodded eagerly, starting to get erect.
We walked into the bathroom and she reached in the glass door and turned on the shower. I noticed there were two shower heads and it was octagonal in shape. I smiled as she turned back around and looked at me. "This time it'll be a little different because we are just being together. Our first time was powerful for me because the fluid you gave me was so totally pure. It's still awesome, don't worry" she added hastily. "Let's come up with our shapes together, okay?"
"Sure thing, but if you want to go at it in the shower, you are going to have to get taller, or I am going to have to shrink...Wait, why not both?" She nodded as her legs lengthened a few inches and her hips became less flared. I noticed approvingly that her boobs remained the same size. I concentrated and 'pulled' some of my height inside me, making my chest more muscular, my legs and torso a bit shorter, and my cock longer and fatter. Her grin got wicked when she saw the size of it. It was about the width of an aerosol can and 11 inches long.
"God damn baby, that's gonna feel so good..." she said as she closed her eyes. I noticed that her ass got rounder and fuller, I assumed she made some changes internally to take me.
She pulled me into the shower and we kissed while the massive pole between my legs got harder and harder. She began to shiver and pulled away from my lips saying, "Oh my god, was your asshole itchy and hot?? Let's do it...Fuck me in the ass baby....Oh my god!!!" She put a hand up to the shower head and twisted something to make the water come from both heads. I pushed her up against one wall and slid my hand between her cheeks as I cupped her breast with the other and ran my tongue up and down the side of her neck. Her asshole was already softening and accepted three of my fingers easily. She moaned deeply, the want and need in her voice apparent even without the scent coming off her through the water. I let go of her tit and used my hands to pull apart her cheeks. As I set the tennis-ball sized head of my tremendous cock at the opening of her ass, she pushed back and sat down. I slid all the way into her in one shot. I felt her ass tighten up around me and then some. I pulled out a few inches and pushed back in. Her voice was gone, her breathing was heavy, and it looked like she would put her fingers through the tiles.
"Do me Do me Harder Kel...Fuck my ass with your pole, fuck me really really fast, oooohhhhhh" she moaned as I suited words to action. Her asshole was so tight that the friction was driving me crazy. Deep hard thrusts were punctuated by animal grunts from us both. She bent at the waist to take me deeper inside as I thrust all 11 inches of hot cock into her tight puckered ass. I was pawing at her ass, leaving red marks in her beautiful globes as I rode into and out of her perfect ass.
Bringing the flat of my hand down on her ass drove her wild and turned me on. She was grunting with passion every time I stroked in and out of her and screaming out my name as I spanked her. She began to tighten up even more as her voice raised in pitch to a primal scream. I used my heightened strength to good advantage as I grabbed her waist and picked her up off the ground, jamming her up and down on my cock. I fucked her in the ass like a ragdoll, her legs and arms limp, her groans and moans reaching a fevered pitch. I finally exploded inside her and felt her pass out completely. I moved her up and down, slower and slower until I finished spilling my seed into her.I slowly collapsed onto the floor with her in my lap. My rod shrank back to its 8-inch size and then went limp completely. Her breathing slowed gradually as she whispered in my ear, "Yeah, Kel... huh huh... Yeah, I think you've got it..."
We sat in the shower for a while, rinsing off, toweling off, and sliding into bed for some much-needed sleep. | null | Chapter 1 | Authors/geekWriter/Doppleganger/doppleganger I- II- III.txt |
100,761 | Geek Writer | Change Me | You'd think this would begin like most stories... "It all started when I was a child..."
Nope. It all started a few weeks ago when I woke up without a dick. Yup, you read correctly. I went to sleep with a johnson and a set of balls, and I woke up with a peach. To say it was strange would be an understatement. I didn't figure it out until I went into the bathroom, pulled up the lid, and proceeded to piss all over my legs. The boxers I had gone to sleep in had felt a little big, but I didn't really notice until I pulled them down and pissed on myself.
I looked at myself in the mirror, then down between my legs, then the mirror, then my legs about 20 times before my heart started hammering in my chest and I had to sit down. I reached a hand between my legs and felt the folds of skin that had replaced my 8-inch snake. Distracted as I was by my lack of cock, my hand did what it does naturally when it finds a warm pussy in front of it, it began to play.
The waves of pleasure that rocked through me made me bite my lip and arch my back. The moan that escaped my lips was still that of a man, but the feelings that coursed through my body were not. I continued to play with myself, inserting a finger into my now wet slit, rubbing my other hand over my clit until I had the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life. Instead of tingling all over and then the feeling rushing out of my penis, I felt a bomb go off in my groin and set my body on fire. I collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily.
As I came back to reality, I decided that a shower would clear up my head as well as the pee still on my leg. Stripping off my t-shirt exposed my hairy chest and developed pecs. It was disconcerting to see a manly upper body with the plumbing of a woman. Shaking my head, I turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up.
I ducked in and wet my body, my hands running over my chest, arms, and legs. It all felt the same except for the plumbing. I washed my legs off, soaping up my pussy to get it nice and clean. It started to stir the feelings in me once more. "What the hell..." I said to myself as I soaped up my butt with one hand and played with my clit with the other. I moved the soapy hand from my back to my front, soaping up my chest. I pictured the woman I had been with the night before and remembered a trick or two that had driven her wild. Bending slightly, I slid two fingers into myself while I rubbed my thumb across my clit. I remembered her bountiful chest heaving back and forth as she moaned. As I approached my second orgasm, I felt the muscles in my chest soften and ripen into two delicious-looking breasts. I turned into the water and washed the soap off. The hair on my chest had gone with the soap, leaving me with a set of beautiful breasts.
My jaw dropped as I squeezed my left nipple and felt a rush of pleasure, enough to pair with the stimulation of my pussy and send me over the edge. I collapsed to the floor, two fingers still inside me.
My mind raced. "Could I change my shape??" I caught my breath, rinsed off, and got out of the shower. Looking in the mirror, I saw my head, broad shoulders, two perfect breasts (they looked about a 36D), a flat hairless stomach, a luscious pussy, and two strong and hairy legs.
I took a deep breath and concentrated on my face. I imagined what I would look like with no five o'clock shadow. Nothing happened. I imagined what I would look like with long hair. Nothing happened.
I took a second and realized I had been going about it the wrong way. I thought about Angela, the woman I had been with the night before. The breasts I was ogling were exactly like hers, even down to the two freckles under her left nipple. I imagined her body, her thin waist, her heart-shaped ass, her supple skin, her long auburn hair, her green eyes... I closed my eyes as my body began to change. I could feel my shoulders shrinking, my waist coming in, and my hips going out. Along with the physical changes were emotional and hormonal changes as well. My thought patterns changed.
When I felt it was done, I opened my eyes and saw Angela standing in front of me. A slow, lazy smile parted my lush red lips. I put a hand on my hip and winked, and giggled when I saw my reflection. The giggle even sounded high-pitched. I stood there in amazement. I was 100% woman now.
A thought intruded into my pleasure. "Can you change back??" I bit my lip in a cute pout and thought about it. Well, no better time than now. I thought about what I looked like last night before I went to bed. Suddenly I felt heavier, stronger, masculine.
I opened my eyes to see me in the mirror. I said, "Hello," and heard my normal voice in my ears. Now that I had been so critical of my shape, I noticed that I had a little paunch and that my upper body could use a little toning. With a mental nudge that was a lot easier than I thought, my upper body got bigger and harder, and my stomach ripped into a washboard.
Laughing out loud, I realized that I could do anything I wanted. One more experiment.
I thought about Alicia, my ultimate fantasy. She wasn't one woman, she was many. I had taken all of the best traits from women I had dated in the past and combined them into one 'girl'. She was the one I thought of in the shower during dry spells with women.
I put my hands on my chest and pictured her in my mind. I kept my eyes open as I saw the flesh on my chest melt and reform into a pair of 38D's. The muscles and hair melted away from my china-white skin as the hair on my head got shorter, blacker, and straighter. Lips filled out and got redder, nose thinner and a little longer, eyes slightly almond-shaped. The weight around my waist moved lower on my hips as my waist drew in. As my thighs got more shapely and my eyes changed to green, I knew the transformation was complete.
"It's a question of picturing what you want to look like rather than seeing what you would look like," I thought to myself.
"You catch on quickly!" a voice inside my head spoke, with a hint of laughter. | null | null | Authors/geekWriter/Doppleganger/ChangeMe.txt |
101,087 | Captain_Quixote | Shelly the Sports Reporter Chapter 51 | Yesterday, Miss Guffey was perfectly poised. While they were walking to the locker room, she seemed nervous, like she was on a first date. Mindy shook her hand, already smiling wide. She couldn't wait to show off her toys to another woman. "I'm glad you made it, Miss Guffey. I'm Shelly's official chaperone today, but Miss Devasquez is coming too."
"That's probably for the best. And call me Audrie, please. How do we do this?"
"Just follow along," Miss Devasquez said. She opened the door, but she let Mindy lead the way. Mindy was beaming as she heard the ever-present grumbles of discontent. The boys knew it was time again. All any of them could really do was hope that he wasn't going to be chosen. The choice today was up to Miss Guffey.
Mindy was all aflutter, so she deferred to Miss Devasquez. "Boys," Miss Devasquez said, "if I could have your attention. We have a special guest today. I'm sure some of you recognize Audrie Guffey from WLNB. She was considering doing a piece for TV about our reporting program. So she's here to see Shelly in action. Now we want you boys to be on your best behavior. I want you to be as courteous and comfortable as you would be ordinarily." Her voice broke into a chuckle at the end of that. Mindy and Shelly gave a little laugh as well. Miss Devasquez continued, "We want to show every consideration to our guest, so she'll be deciding which of you boys take part today. If you could all come out here where she can see, she'll choose one of you for an interview, and two more just for show. Come on out. A little faster, boys."
Audrie couldn't believe what she was seeing. They had been right. These boys were hot. All of them! How could she possibly choose just three? The boys stood there awkwardly while they waited for Audrie's judgment. Some of the hotties were shirtless. Some were wearing just jockstraps. Two of them were already naked! "Oh my gosh!"
Miss Devasquez followed her eyes. It was Chris and David. Mindy took over as chaperone again then. She was going to enjoy this. "You two! Chris and David, you know you can't do that."
"But Mindy!" "Come on, we don't even know this woman."
"Does that mean that you should be allowed to disrespect her?" Mindy said. "Stop covering those dicks. You know you have to let us see what you've got. Step forward and drop those hands."
Audrie stared at Mindy's boldness. There wasn't much pretense there at all. Then she was staring at Chris and David instead. They had done exactly as they were told! She could really see them bare naked! "Ooh, they're so very..."
"Yes, they are," Miss Devasquez purred.
"They're really naked." Audrie wondered if she would catch her breath. Two sexy high school athletes had just shown her their cocks. Those boys were red in the face and looking away into corners. Audrie let out a little sound of surprised pleasure at that. She hadn't realized that she would enjoy that part. She knew that seeing the studly athletes bare themselves would be a treat. Like this, it wasn't just bodies and dicks though. This meant she could just take what she wanted, and the boys had to let her look! She shuddered with delight. She wouldn't have any trouble making a choice now. "Do I have to choose these boys, or can I see three more penises?"
Mindy smiled one of her more wicked smiles. "Oh, if I were you, I'd take as much as I could get. I already told you, all these boys are worth it."
"Oh yes." Audrie took a little bit, searching with her eyes across the candidates. The boys waiting for her decision all had sick and angry looks. She said, "Mmmm, that one there."
Tommy's heart skipped a beat. "Wh - why me?"
"I've just got to watch one of you boys go from full uniform to birthday suit. And you really are a steamy young man." Then Audrie looked back at her two naked appetizers. "OH! Oh, he really did get hard!"
David was the one with his pecker pointing straight up. He blushed anew at the sudden, wide-eyed stare from Audrie, and also from the openly mocking giggles from Mindy and Shelly. Mindy told her, "Wait till you see Chris's boner! Oh, don't give me that look, Chris. Your penis is a wonderful thing. Go ahead and let it do its thing."
Chris flinched at the sudden attention from all the ladies. His dick didn't respond. It was attractive but not attentive. Not yet. Mindy shrugged, "Oh well. He can't hold out forever. Take your time picking your other two boys, Audrie."
"Take my time," she repeated in half a daze. She turned away from Chris's dangler back to David's proud, upstanding penis. She smiled innocently. "Right. I'll take my time then." She hummed to herself as she went back to shopping for studs. She let her eyes linger on some of the boys just to see them quail at her attention. Then she knew she had to have one of them. "What's this boy's name?"
"That's Brian," Shelly said. Brian groaned.
"He'll do nicely. It might take a few moments for Tommy to strip out of his uniform, but Brian here will only have to get his underwear off. Oh, I can't wait to see what he's hiding there." Audrie heard Miss Devasquez chuckle her approval. The lady reporter just couldn't believe she was getting to do this. She glanced over at Chris, but he still wasn't there yet. His cock had only barely begun to lift. To stall for time, she asked Miss Devasquez, "And the boys do all this voluntarily?"
"Naturally. Of course they volunteer whether they want to or not. The truth is that by being a member of the baseball team, they have to submit to certain standards of behavior."
"Right. Then perhaps we could have this brown-eyed hunk here volunteer?"
Peter's shoulders slumped. Miss Devasquez said, "That will do just fine. Chris? How are you doing there?" She looked over at him, and so did all the other women. He was over halfway hard, his cock thrust out into the world. Miss Devasquez said, "We can wait until Chris reaches his height though. It won't take long. The rest of you boys can return to changing and showering."
"Even me?" David asked.
"I suppose," Miss Devasquez said, "if you're in that much of a hurry."
He was, but turning away from them only gave Audrie the chance to say, "Oh God, he's got a nice ass!"
Then all the attention was focused on Chris's rising spirits. He struggled to keep himself under control, but it was impossible. Seconds ticked by torturously as his penis obediently rose for the women. He arrived at full arousal, his embarrassment thundering in his heart and his hard-on. Audrie still hadn't gotten past her state of wonder. "He really is a handsome young man, isn't he? I mean handsome all over. All over."
Miss Devasquez grinned. "You can go now, Chris. Tommy, Brian, Peter, come over here please."
There was a slight stagger to Audrie's walk. Miss Devasquez and Shelly took that as a good sign. She was as hopelessly penis-crazy as they were. Their little hobby would be safe now. All three of these boys had been interview subjects already, so Shelly could take her pick. She had an easy time putting questions to the boys that would create convincing sports articles. She decided on Peter because he was the one that Audrie hadn't picked out due to his level of undress. He still had his jersey, partly unbuttoned, his jockstrap, his socks, and even his cap. Shelly told him, "I think you'll get to answer some questions today, but Miss Devasquez, I think the other two ought to strip down completely to let Audrie really get the full experience."
"That's a good idea," Miss Devasquez said. "You two boys don't mind showing us every inch of your bodies, do you? Out of a sense of propriety and respect, I mean."
Tommy sighed, and Brian grunted, but they both agreed without really saying it. They glanced over at this new woman, this stranger, who had never seen them naked, but was about to. Tommy had been forced to bare himself for a dozen different women and girls. Brian had been exposed for twice as many. But it never got easy. If it had been just Mindy, Miss Devasquez, and Shelly, who had seen them both nude already, it still would have been mortifying. This was worse. Another first-time pair of eyes was ready to steal their dignity for fun.
They had hesitated a moment, so Miss Devasquez said, "Go on, boys." She said it carelessly. She knew that the boys had a hard time getting their clothes off for an audience. She also knew that they would do as they were told. "But Tommy, you can leave that cap on."
Brian was almost naked already. As he bent forward, dropping his jock, Audrie's eyes got huge. Another hottie was going to show his all! Tommy wasn't even done unbuttoning his jersey, but Brian stood up full nude, gloriously naked and with the sweetest shy expression. Audrie couldn't help a girlish giggle. She locked eyes with his (and what eyes he had!) before her stare moved down that sexy body to his goodies. For a moment he covered up, then he let his hands drop. Audrie giggled again.She kept glancing over at Tommy as he stripped down slowly, but her eyes just feasted on Brian's nakedness. It didn't take long for his embarrassment to animate his anatomy. Audrie put her hand over her heart when he started to rise. "Oh my gosh, he's getting hard too! Miss Bridle wasn't kidding. Do they really do that every time?"
"Nearly," Shelly admitted. "Sometimes they manage to get only partway up, but that's pretty rare. Usually it's full mast. It looks like Brian's getting there quick. Good job, Brian. We really appreciate your efforts to make this comfortable for us."
Brian threw her a dirty look, but all he got in response was that wicked half-smile. He got there fast, standing tall both in posture and in penis. He could feel the girls staring at his rod. Audrie asked, "Are you really going to make him just stand there like that while Shelly interviews this other boy?"
"Of course," Miss Deavasquez said. "It's important for the boys to recognize the value of their female peers. What could be a better demonstration? Tommy's taking his time though. Tommy, do hurry up please. We're all just dying to see your bare penis."
Tommy shook his head in disgust, but he did it. The last thing he needed was a special detention. So he doffed the rest of his clothes quickly while the women all blatantly ogled him. Audrie in particular made it difficult. The little giggles and gasps as he moved made it that much harder. Even Mindy was quiet. She was usually a squealer, but this time it was like she instinctively let Audrie's sounds have the floor so that the boys would more that much more aware of the new eyes.
When he was down to his underwear and his hat, Audrie said, "Oh, he looks so good like that, I almost don't want him to take it off."
Miss Devasquez said, "Tommy, before you drop that jockstrap, turn around so that we can get a look at your buns."
"Oh, you're too accommodating," Audrie said. She stared in wonder again as he put his bum on display. After she got a good look, she said, "Okay, now he can get naked. I mean, if you think he should."
"Of course he should," Miss Devasquez said. "Anything less would be an insult. Besides, he doesn't mind letting you see all of his body, do you Tommy?"
He had to force out the words, "No, Miss Devasquez." Then he slipped his underwear down and off, discarding his modesty entirely. Except for his baseball cap, he was wearing nothing.
Audrie didn't even remotely resemble a professional reporter anymore. "eeeEEEE! Look at his dick! Oh, I can't wait to see him get stiff!"
Shelly was enjoying Audrie's display of lust as much as the boys were hating it. She said, "I think I'd better start the interview now. Tommy will get there before I'm done."
"Oh, I hope so."
So Shelly started questioning Peter, and Peter, after only one stern look from Miss Devasquez, surrendered his pride and started getting his clothes off. He knew that he was supposed to keep his cap on too, but the rest of it slipped away, piece by piece. With each moment Peter's anxiety grew. He was really doing it. He was really getting naked again! His fingers trembled when he got to the last bit. It was all so unfair! It was all so humiliating! He was like a toy that these women could play with whenever they wanted.
"Peter, it's time to get that off." Shelly sounded so gentle and understanding that Peter almost felt just a slight shade better. Then he saw that look in her eye and the evil smile on her face. He felt a wave of indignation as he slipped his underwear off to let them all enjoy his masculinity.
"There it is," Miss Devasquez said. "Was it worth your time, Audrie?"
"Oh, he's really something. Three naked boys. Three! And they've got it all. Oh! Look! Tommy really is starting to rise."
There was a reverent silence from the girls as Tommy's penis saluted them. He turned beet red as he could feel his body betray him. His embarrassment moved him into the most ironic of reactions. All he really wanted these women to do was leave him alone, but his cock insisted on standing up and calling out for attention. He got halfway hard before his humiliation got the best of him. He turned around to protect his modesty.
Miss Devasquez thought that was adorable, but she had to play in character. "Tommy! You turn back around this instant!"
"I can't! I can't take it, Miss Devasquez. At least stop staring at me all at once."
Miss Devasquez could never be as intimidating as Miss Hartick, but she had developed an impressive, villainous hiss. "Tommy, if you don't turn back around then it will be a detention in my room with ten girls present. Ten girls and myself and Mindy all staring at your naked body with no other boys there to distract us."
"Miss Devasquez, please!"
"I told you to turn back around, Tommy. This isn't like you at all. You never give us any trouble. Turn back around so that we call all stare at your penis. That's what we came down here to do, and it's your duty to show us the respect we deserve as women. Do it now or tomorrow after school for a bunch of girls."
"Okay, okay." He got a hold of himself and turned back around with his eyes shut tight. His cock had declined just a little while he was turned away. He knew that wasn't going to last.
Miss Devasquez said, "Tommy, open your eyes and apologize."
Tommy saw all the female eyes moving up and down his naked body again. He felt like he might pass out. "I'm, - I'm sorry." His penis rose slightly.
"What are you sorry for?" Miss Devasquez said.
"I'm sorry that I turned around." Again, his dick rose up just a little bit.
"Now, we're not really asking that much are we? We have every right to expect you to let us see you naked. This is the boys' locker room after all. Well, answer me, Tommy. Are we asking too much?"
"No, Miss Devasquez." His penis had continued to rise up slowly while she embarrassed him. When he answered her, his dick just shot up into launch position. The renewed giggles from Shelly and Mindy made him blush and cover his face with his hands a moment. He got a hold of himself again and stood upright with his hands at his sides so they could see both his fully erect cock and his blushing, embarrassed expression.
Audrie turned her eyes back to Peter, the only boy still pointing to the floor. Shelly started back in on her interview like nothing else had happened. Her casual nature brought out the embarrassment in Peter perfectly. After just two questions, his penis was really lifting. After another three, he was there, a third involuntary performance. "I hate this," he muttered as he reached his peak.
Audrie said, "I'd give up a Pulitzer to have Shelly's job. This was really worth it all, Miss Devasquez."
"I'm glad you think so. I know I do."
Shelly continued the interview briefly while all three boys had to endure the attention of their admirers. At last, when she was finished, Shelly said, "Thank you for your time, Peter." She held out her hand, but Peter seemed reluctant to take it. He knew what she was about to do. A little *A-hem* from Miss Devasquez prodded him along. He let Shelly shake his hand. Then she reached down for a second handshake with his pecker.
Audrie gasped. She still couldn't believe that she was allowed to see these boys undress. Did they really just let Shelly touch the boys' penises?
Shelly had double handshakes from Brian, then Tommy as their blushes bloomed again. Miss Devasquez looked like she wasn't sure how far to take this. Mindy saw the lust in Audrie's eyes though. She knew what to do. She cuddled close to Brian's side and reached down for a quick fondle of his stiffy. Like she was offering to share a candy bar, she asked Audrie, "You want a quick feel before we go? The boys know that it wouldn't be fair for them harden up and then deny us our urges."
Audrie gaped. "Are you serious?"
Miss Devasquez followed Mindy's lead. Mindy moved over to take a quick grope of Peter's peter while Miss Devasquez fondled Tommy, first his chest, then his hard-on while he groaned.
Audrie felt lightheaded. "You're sure it's okay?"
Shelly said, "Miss Hartick says so. And so does Miss Bridle."
"Well then, if it's official school policy, I guess I won't insult the boys by refusing. I don't know which one to start with."
Mindy and Miss Devasquez backed off to make room for the lady reporter. She gave Brian's boner a quick little playful squeeze. Then she ran her hand up and down Peter's dick. She left Tommy for last and he had to hold still while she wrapped one hand around his rod and lifted his balls with the other. "I wish I knew more about sports," Audrie said.
Contented beyond belief, Audrie actually led the way out of the locker room. She sighed and smiled. "Miss Devasquez, I know this might be asking a bit much, but would it be possible for me to be a special correspondent? I have a keen interest in this news story, and if you'd allow me to observe Shelly's methods every so often, I can promise that it's a story my station will never air."
Miss Devasquez said, "I don't mind at all if Shelly doesn't. It would have to be just an occasional thing to avoid too much attention."
"Oh, I understand that," Audrie said.
Shelly said, "It doesn't solve all our problems though. We might have you in our corner, but what keeps Miss Armstrong from going to some other channel's news department. Or the local newspaper?"
Miss Devasquez asked Audrie, "Is there any way you can help us with that?"
Audrie thought about it. "At my own station I'm a star, so I've got a lot of influence. I can't do much about the rest though. I know that there are women at every station that could help. I mean, I'm sure they would if they were to see why they should."You take my meaning. I don't suppose you want me to try to convince them to come here all on a particular day. That doesn't really sound practical."
"Not here," Miss Devasquez said, "but how about somewhere else? Like my house. I can have some of the boys there to help introduce the idea."
Audrie was stunned yet again. "You're allowed to take the boys home to see them naked?"
"No," Miss Devasquez said, "but I can guarantee you that some of the boys will help us anyway."
Audrie got the picture loud and clear. "I'll make some calls." | null | Chapter 51 | Authors/Captain_Quixote/Shelly the Sports Reporter/Shelly the Sports Reporter Chapter 51.txt |
101,439 | Hugh Deacon | Investigating the Palace | You mustn't use my name. 'A society lady' will do. Sounds dreadfully old-fashioned, doesn't it? Still, if my friends knew I actually talked about what goes on here, I'd never hear the end of it.
I've been spending a week a year here for a long time now. I remember when it was only an expensive hotel, and, my, things have improved. Only yesterday, I splashed out and outbid all the panting males to spend a night with a cute little girl, barely into her teens by the looks, although no doubt it's only a clever illusion. She nearly wept with gratitude when I told her there would be no penetration, and her eager little tongue worked overtime down between my legs in a practical thank-you.
I say things have improved, but for a number of years, we hedonistic women were not really very well served. The management were keen to please, but there was a certain sterility to the offerings, nothing much to quicken the pulse of an experienced slut. The time before last, I actually took this up with the man himself, J C Brookes (does he possess a Christian name, do you know?).
"Look here, Brookes," I told him, "You're not trying hard enough. You've got a unique place here, but you're disappointing half your customers."
"My dear Mrs -, I'm sorry to hear that. What can we do to improve things? As one of our most valued clients, I'm sure your wishes will be accommodated if at all possible." Those whiskers of his were positively vibrating with distress. A criticism of his precious pleasure palace is like a direct challenge to his manhood.
We were in the reception area at the time, surrounded by enticing displays of flesh and assorted depravities. I waved my hand in a gesture taking them all in.
"Look at these - we have pneumatic dolly-birds, we have mermaids, we have girls with more orifices than nature ever planned for, we have girls held in permanently available poses by metal exoskeletons . . . I could go on and on."
"We are proud of our diversity, certainly."
"But." I took hold of his chin. He was too cultured to object, but his eyes widened in surprise. "Where are the males? I don't mean the bronzed specimens of perfect manhood that we are encouraged to make use of whenever they're not serving or maybe disciplining your slaves. I mean the beasts. The satyrs. Pure masculine dominance in some freak form. Don't you think I get tired of inviting men to my bed and having them perform for me? I can do that in my normal life."
Brookes carefully detached himself. "So what is it you're suggesting?"
"Oh, I don't know," I said, turning on my heel in frustration, noticing with pleasure that he couldn't help glancing at my leg as my skirt flapped free. I've spent a lot on this body over the years. "I leave the details to you. Something I've never experienced before. A male I can't resist, who will overcome my maidenly resistance and rut, rut, rut all night long. But not just a rent-a-man. Surely you can think of something."
When I looked back at him, he was straightening his collar with a thoughtful air. "I think you may have something there, Mrs -. There is a programme we have on at the moment that could be diverted, and it may also solve a little problem." He refocused on me, a decision obviously having been reached. "Before you leave, we should have something to surprise you. And, please, allow me to add a vintage champagne to your next meal in thanks for your suggestion."
Well, I wasn't going to object to that, was I?
I must confess that I spent the next day in a strange mood. The beautiful hunks of manhood around couldn't match up to what my imagination was already creating for me, and I simply didn't feel like the slippery sensuality of a girl. Most unlike me. That must have been the first visit after they'd introduced the new transports, because I seem to remember touring the place most of the day on those, torturing the poor girl drivers by constantly changing my mind.
I feel for them anyway, those girls. Have you seen them? The car-like things float just off the ground and have some unseen method of propulsion that's very smooth when you're sitting back in the passenger's padded chair. If you close your eyes, you'd never know you were moving. Then you open them to be faced with the shapely buttocks of your controller, more often than not dripping with sweat at the effort it needs. She stands in front of you, her feet locked into the base of the vehicle, with a shiny metal pole up between her legs, the top of which is shaped to fit into her anus to hold her in position. From the front of the pole sprouts a more complicated and flexible protrusion that she receives into her vagina. I've never been sure exactly how this works, but it's the sole means of controlling the thing. You can't see from behind, but I've watched them passing, bellies rippling as they work their pussy muscles to keep their charges heading in the right direction. More than once I've seen winces of agonised straining when coming across someone heading in the other direction as a girl's tired internals try to pull her vehicle to one side.
Anyway, as I say, I got through several drivers that day. None of them could stand it for long. Whenever they slowed down, I'd give them a crack on the trembling rear, forcing them to squeeze their invader ever harder to maintain the speed.
I saw interesting things on my way around, much as you're doing now, I imagine. It's quite possible to have a good time here without once succumbing to the vices of the flesh, but you'd be missing the point. The restaurant, where I consumed my free wine, is one of very few left in the world where real food is still used exclusively. Many will say that you can't tell the difference, that synthesised foodstuff is just as good and more reliable. They're just jealous. And where else can you select the most gorgeous young woman in sight to act as your table, just on a whim, as I did? She whimpered a bit at the heat of my plate on her back, but it suited my mood to be a little cruel.
I also watched the slave auctions briefly, but I long ago lost interest in those. There are still a good many people for whom the instant availability of all the staff around them isn't enough. They need a body or two to call their own, and will pay handsomely for the privilege. Personally, I think it's vulgar to drag the poor things around after you all the time, weighed down with I don't know how much metal in the form of chains and fastenings. If a slave displeases you, it's a simple matter to use the rings they all have to put them in position for a whipping. Extra chains are just frivolous.
I won't spoil your time here by detailing everything I saw. Suffice it to say that it isn't hard to fill a day even when you're as jaded as I was. Even so, I couldn't face the idea of a late night in my current state of mind, and retired to my suite early.
There, I met with a sight that instantly dispelled my boredom.
On the deep rug of my parlour was a cage, neatly decorated with a ribbon and bow. Inside, clinging to the bars, a most peculiar creature was looking very sorry for himself. He gazed around with a hunted expression as I squatted beside him.
"Here, I recognise you," I said, the moment I realised. "Weren't you the cosmetician here? Didn't you treat me a year or two back?"
"Possibly, mistress." He wouldn't meet my eyes. I wasn't surprised. He'd always been a vain man, as far as I could remember, and this must have been a real come-down for him.
"So how do you come to be caged in my room, half-dog?"
He just shook his head. I looked down his body, from the handsome head and well-sculpted shoulders to his waist, where the fur started, and on down to his legs. He'd never stand up again, that was for sure. He appeared to be a German Shepherd from the haunches back, complete with tail. It was a bizarre combination, paws at back and hands at front.
"I won't let you out unless you do as I say," I warned him.
"I don't want to be let out. Please, leave me in here."
"Why, are you afraid I'll parade you around and embarrass you?"No. No, it's not that. Please, just ignore me, and perhaps they'll change me back." He turned away, his tail brushing the bars.
"That does it. Now I'm intrigued. You've got a minute to begin telling me what's wrong, or you come out of that cage and I shoo you out into the public area. Get on with it. I'm in the mood for a story."
He sighed. "Was it you who told Mr. Brookes there weren't enough male mutants?"
"It was, and it's true."
"Then I suppose you deserve to hear.
"He visited me yesterday afternoon, in the nearest I've ever seen to panic, wanting to know if I had any projects that could be adapted to your request. Just at that time, I was working on a way of combining a woman with a bitch - something which a certain fellow-director had made me think of. We've been adding animal features to our slaves for a long time, but there were new aspects to this, behavioral changes, so it was tricky. Still, I'd got it cracked, and couldn't see why a male version shouldn't work. All I needed, I told Mr. Brookes, was a person to use. That was all right, he said, because he had someone in mind already.
"I worked late into the night changing the program where necessary, and left a message to say I was ready before crashing out in my clinic. That was where my problems started. I woke up strapped to my own couch, with a line into my arm. I was about to protest when I saw Mr. Brookes was there again. My angry words died in my mouth.
"'I said the ideal man was around, didn't I,' he said, and my fears were confirmed. 'One who needs to be taught some loyalty, I think. A spell as a lap-dog should do the trick.'
"I had no reply to that."
"Why not?" I asked. "Had you done something wrong?"
His face distorted with anger for a moment. "I gave that director I mentioned a long-overdue taste of slavery. Mr. Brookes didn't even disagree with what I'd done.
"'I like the way Tamara's turned out,' he said, 'You'd be in a lot worse trouble if I didn't. But I can't have people stepping out of line like this. You need to learn that.'
"He pressed the button, and here I am. When I came to, I was in this cage."
I studied him afresh. His two halves were beautiful specimens of their type. It was only their juxtaposition that was shocking. Admittedly, I wouldn't have welcomed such a change being forced on me, but I couldn't see why the man was so cut up about it.
"You must be too valuable to be dismissed. I know you're one of the top men in your field, otherwise I wouldn't have used you for a treatment myself. So can't you carry on with your work as usual and accept the interludes like this as a bonus? All the dogs I've seen seem to enjoy their lives."
"They wouldn't dare let me work. I wouldn't myself." He rolled onto his side and put his face in his hands. "Please. Say I'm not good enough. They'll listen to you, and I'll have my body back."
"No. Not unless you tell me what's really bothering you."
"I can't."
"You can, and you will, or I'll make personally sure you stay like that at least until my next visit."
"No, please!"
But I just made myself comfortable on the rug, and waited.
Eventually, he sat up.
"Well, this should make you get rid of me, anyway. You know I said my original design was meant to incorporate bitch behaviors?"
"Yes. I wondered what you meant. Whining, perhaps?"
A watery smile. "No. She could do that already, my inspiration woman. No, what I wanted was the hard-wired instincts of a bitch in heat. You know how they can't help offering themselves to any male dog that comes along? I made sure that the smell of male musk - human, of course - acted like that on my bitch-woman. Any aroused male that approached her would have the same effect, whatever she thought of him in the civilized part of her mind. She'd turn her rear to him and offer a dripping pussy. It would be such a powerful instinct that she'd be helpless to stop it."
"So how does this fit with you? Male dogs don't do that."
"Do I have to spell it out?" He looked at me pleadingly. "OK. Male dogs, if they're presented with the scent of an aroused female, can't help going for it. Have you ever tried to stop one?"
"No, but I've seen it." I stared at him with new interest. "Do you mean to tell me..."
"I don't know for sure, but I'm afraid so."
"Congratulations! That's great! I began to think I was beyond being surprised, but you've outdone yourselves."
I pulled up the hem of my dress, slid my hand under my panties and wiped a finger up my slit. Then I thrust my hand through the bars and straight towards his baffled face. To my delight, his nostrils flared and he shot up onto all fours again.
"Don't do this to me!" he begged, even as he followed my fingers to the edge of the cage. I could see a hint of shiny red flesh showing through the fur, and knew I had him on the path he dreaded. I wondered what it would be like to be a slave even to my own instincts, finding myself doing things I didn't want to do.
I found the cage's fastening and partly undid it with a flourish, leaving it still sealed but with the promise of freedom. Then, slowly and deliberately, I shed my clothes, turning every part of my body towards those hungry and fearful eyes to make sure the message sank in deeply. Once naked, I squatted in front of him with my legs spread wide, and played with myself. With one hand at my crotch, fingers gently busy with the folds, I raised one of my breasts so I could suck at my nipple, keeping my gaze on his. For several minutes I readied myself, all the time inching away from him until I could perch on the edge of an armchair. When I felt a wet patch spreading in the fabric under me, I saw the blank look in his eyes and knew the time was ripe. With a stretch of my leg I knocked the catch loose.
Immediately, he bounded across the floor and hit me like a train. He was clumsy, his arms and legs bending the wrong way for each other, but in his desperation, he almost flew over the floor. As my head hit the back of the chair, I suddenly thought I might have made a mistake. I tried to close my legs. Far too late.
The insides of my thighs met sleek hair and wiry muscle. Already, as I tried to straighten up, his hands were mauling at my breasts and shoulders, and something hot and hard was pressing at my entrance.
"Hey, steady!" I gasped. He was thrusting even before he got inside me. There was something strange about his penis, too, but I couldn't see properly. I took one look into his eyes and, seeing that all his sense and consciousness was buried under animal lust, gave up. "OK, boy, here we go."
I shifted my hips until he was stabbing at the right place, then waited. All at once, he found me and thrust deep inside all in one movement, making me stifle a scream. His penis was hot and smooth, and widened rapidly from a slim tip, quite different from the well-endowed men I usually make use of. I started to say something about slowing down, not trying to skewer me until I was ready, but looking into his eyes, I saw that the intelligence in them had evaporated, leaving only a blankly lustful fire. He frightened me, to be honest, and I'm ashamed to say I tightened up. Then when he ducked his head and bit my neck, I panicked and tried to throw him off. That was the wrong thing to do. He gripped my upper arms hard, so hard that the bruises showed for days in spite of the repair efforts of my implant, and pushed me down into the armchair so that my back was painfully bent over the edge of the seat cushion. Having immobilized me, he thrust ever deeper, stabbing at my core with jerky strokes. I struggled underneath him, but it did no good at all.
My years of experience are not for nothing, though, and with a conscious effort, I managed to regain control of myself, if remaining completely helpless to control the situation. I tried to move with him, tried to recapture the enjoyment I'd caught a hint of first. Deliberate attempts at relaxation, concentrating on the exotic feel of hair rubbing at the skin of my thighs, had an unanticipated effect. What I had assumed was the base of his cock, which had been beating out a regular rhythm on the lips of my pussy, slipped suddenly inside, and I felt a sucking spasm as I closed around it. Worse, it began to expand, stretching me until I had to scream. I'd never had anything like it since one fool tried to get his whole hand into me, and I'd made sure he was whipped for that.
I hadn't a hope of doing anything about it this time. I gritted my teeth and pulled my legs out as wide as I could, succeeding in easing the dreadful aching and tearing to the point where I could get contact with the pleasurable side of the experience. The was no slowing of the pace, even now, and the short stiff hairs agitating my clit gradually became the dominant sensation until I didn't care what damage was being done to my insides. I just wanted that heavenly tickling to go on and on, even if the huge presence inside my vagina tore it asunder in the process. The fact that I couldn't move, that he was holding me still and arching my body to a position that would crack me if I resisted, only compressed the tidal wave of my approaching orgasm, funneling it into heights I didn't think I could bear.
It was finally triggered when my assailant reached his own climax. He plunged as deep as he could possibly go and held there while I shrieked and quivered under him, pumping what seemed to be gallons of hot liquid into the far reaches of my womb. For a while - I don't know how long - I was as animal as he'd been since the start.
I opened my eyes and had to blink away a twinkling curtain before I could see the slow return of awareness to his.
"Fuck," he said, aptly, after unclenching his jaw.Then he loosened his vice-like grip on my arms. "Did I hurt you? I couldn't help it."
I used the freedom of my shoulders to shrug. "Oh, it hurt all right. But don't worry about it - I haven't come like that in years." The ache in my pussy, and almost equally in my back, prompted me to add "But it would help if you let me up now."
"I'm sorry!" All of a sudden he was eager to please. He pulled back - tugging me with him. Like it or not, we were still firmly joined crotch to crotch.
I straightened up sufficiently to look down between the sweat and drool covered mounds of my breasts. I swear I could see the bulge in my belly from the outside. "What's the problem?" I asked him. "Do you need another go? I hope not, because I don't think there's room for any more sperm in me."
"No." He looked embarrassed and wretched. "I think it's a dog thing. They stay locked to their bitches for some time after mating, to give their sperm a chance to work, I suppose. I'm sorry."
I shifted painfully. "I don't know if I can stand this for very long. Hold still, and I'll see if I can get off you."
It was awkward, to say the least, as I was bent backwards in the kind of position we used to call 'the crab' when I learned gymnastics as a girl. I tried gently letting myself down, only to hurriedly thrust my genitals back into the junction of his legs when it felt like they were supporting my whole weight. I knew instantly that I was plugged until his penis softened, unless I wanted surgery on a torn pussy.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"Look," I said as my legs began to tremble with the strain, "do you think we could get onto the chair? I think I could get used to this if I could rest a bit."
"Yes, yes, good idea." And he marched forward in a doggy quickstep, pushing me with him until I was sitting on the edge of the cushion. That was as far as we could go, because his legs didn't fold like mine, of course.
There we sat, for half an hour at least. It wasn't time wasted, because he gave me some really good ideas for improving my own body. Half animal or not, the man's a genius. Eventually he deflated enough to pull free with a soft pop, and I suddenly felt very empty, so much so that I just had to fill the aching hole with a finger and soothingly stroke it. As I did so, my fingers were covered with thick ropes of his semen.
"This won't do," I told him. "Clean me up at once."
"Certainly. I'll fetch a flannel."
"Fool!" I slapped his head, hard, even as he turned to rush off. "Use your tongue, like the animal you are."
Wounded pride flared in his eyes. But he knew how much he was dependent on my good will. "Yes, mistress," he replied, and ducked his head to obey.
Ah, that soft tongue was just what I needed. The most sensitive flesh of my body had been pummeled and stretched, abused unmercifully, and the gentle licking did more good than my hand could ever do. He grimaced with distaste to begin with, no doubt at the idea of swallowing his own bodily fluid, but I kept him at it with a hand on his head.
"Well done, boy," I said when he'd lulled me almost to sleep. "As a reward, you get to go walkies."
"What...?" Horror and outrage battled on his face.
"That's right. I'm sure you must need regular exercise to keep in good condition. And I want a visit to the bar. Something soothing and yet hallucinatory would do wonders for me just now, though I rarely indulge. Come on, fetch my dress and we'll go." It was a bit cruel of me to emphasize the 'fetch', but there was still a little too much vanity in him and it needed purging. Of course he struggled, trying to limp along on three legs while holding my crumpled clothes in the other while I waited languidly, but in the end the dangling folds were too much and he had to hold them in his mouth. This irritated and embarrassed him almost as much as anything else. Fortunately the fabric was a self-clean and self-repair type and was as good as new by the time I shrugged it on.
I enjoyed the attention as I sauntered along the corridor with my exotic pet on his lead, and once surrounded by the evening crowd in the nearest 'refreshment area', it reached a level that had me quite gratified. I'm not one for mixing, as a rule, but there was something about inspiring fascination in such jaded people that made it extremely rewarding. Of course it was torture for the creature at my feet, but then he deserved it.
One dizzy-looking woman fought her way to the front of the circle around me and looked at him for minutes on end while the conversation buzzed. Finally she interrupted someone to ask a question of her own.
"What's he like for sex?"
Now, this was just a little blunt. Among my acquaintances, the rule is 'do, don't talk'. In other words, it's as vulgar to ask about the skills and preferences of a person sexually as it would be to ask the price of their jewelry, however much you try to outdo it. But then there was a naive shine to her eye that told me she was nearly as young as she looked, so I forgave her. Provisionally.
I leaned towards her. "Have you got a personal slave, here?" I asked in a lowered voice. "A female?"
She shook her head, disguising her disappointment badly.
"That's a shame. I could have demonstrated."
The girl brightened at once. "I'll stand in! I like an audience. What does he do?"
I made a show of considering, then shaking my head. "No, dear. I don't think you know what you're asking for. He's not like the genteel lovers you'll be used to."
As I'd thought, this only added to her keenness. "But that's why I'm here! I'm so bored of all the nice men around, and I need a surprise. This...this dog-man here, is the most exciting thing I've ever seen. I'm just itching to be his bitch!" She squared up her shoulders and stared straight into my eyes. "If I have to, I'll wait until you've left. But it would be kind of you to share him."
I smiled. I do a very effective condescending smile. "My dear, calm down. You're letting your youth show. I wouldn't dream of depriving you. Heaven knows I had to rant enough at the management to get them to produce anything interesting - it would be very inconsiderate of me to keep it to myself. But are you sure you want it to be quite so public?"
The girl flushed slightly, but stood her ground. She ran a hand through her hair. "I don't care. Bring him to my room if you want."
"I can't." I shook my head. "I have to wait here." What for, I didn't say. "If you want him that badly, I'm afraid it's a public show."
"Fine." She bent to remove one shoe.
Despite my cool exterior I was bubbling with glee. This was going to be even more enjoyable than the earlier violent sex, and I'd steered the ideal victim into it beautifully. She'd never be able to complain I hadn't warned her. "Hold on," I said. "Would one of you lead my pet away until she's ready? He gets just a little too eager, and we don't want to rush things." I selected a solidly built man from the eager offers, and ignored the creature's venomous glances as he was dragged away.
The girl's flush deepened, from excitement this time. She stepped into the small circle of space surrounding my seat before the bar and ran one trembling finger down the fastening of her dress. It fell to the floor in an insubstantial puddle. Her revealed body sent a twinge of envy through me - no amount of treatment could ever give me a body of such flawless beauty, no surgeon I knew had that artist's touch - but the feeling was quickly overtaken by an excitement of my own. She had put that marvelous body into my hands, herself, of her own free will, and I would enjoy it. True, that enjoyment would be vicarious, but no less for that.
First, though, I would involve myself more actively.
"Step over here, my darling," I told her. "No, you needn't remove your shoes, they won't interfere at all."
The woman obediently presented herself to me clad only in her heels, the type that cling to the underside of the foot with no visible attachment, that I've always felt emphasize nudity so nicely and do such wonders for the calves. I ran the tips of my fingers down the hollow between her belly and leg, and on down to the smooth pout of her pussy. She twitched as I touched her inner thigh, bringing a sigh from the onlookers. As you know, only the richest get into this place, and the mass around me were discerning enough to realize the rare perfection under my hand.
"Hmmm." I pretended to consider before turning back to the bar. "Waiter!"
"Yes, ma'am?" He was another slave, naked and rippling with muscle, eager to please.
"We need some clamps at once."
"Certainly." He waved a hand in front of the nearest fetch-cabinet, and opened its door to remove ten or so semi-circular hoops, which he placed on the polished wood beside me.
The first traces of nervousness showed in my victim. "What are they for?"
"To hold you in position. Darling, my pet gets quite enthusiastic, and you'll be glad of them, I assure you."
She followed my hand with uncertain eyes as I touched one clamp to her forearm, allowing it to register her form. "But are they...do I need them?"
I paused and gave her a serious look. "I quite understand if you don't want to do this. I did suggest you didn't."
It didn't occur to her that I hadn't answered her question. She glanced round at the expectant faces and turned back to me with new resolve. "I do want to. What now?"
"On your hands and knees." I gestured to the floor by my feet.
Once she was there, I moved her knees apart and fastened her ankles to the floor. The clamps obediently fixed when tapped in the right way, holding tight to her shape. Then I moved her elbows near her knees and double-clamped her forearms, thus immobilizing her completely.She raised her face from the floor for long enough to give me a fearful glance, but it was a strain she couldn't keep up. She lapsed into the bottom-up posture that displayed her luscious pussy to her audience.
I lowered my stool a little and rested my hand on the curve of her buttocks. "There, you're nearly ready. All we need to do is to get you wet for him." As I spoke, I ran my hand down the taut muscle and between her legs, wiggling my fingers lightly on the baby-smooth skin at the top of her cleft. I could see several bulges showing on the men present, and I didn't blame them. I was getting a heat deep inside myself, so the urge for these males to fill such a prime female specimen full of baby-making semen must have been almost unbearable. The tension rose as I stroked around the sensitive flesh, muttering getting louder as the girl rotated her hips, desperately following my hand to get her clit in contact with my fingers. She groaned into the hard floor when I finally relented, and the sound was matched by the crowd. I was tender, slipping to the floor to cup a breast in my hand while I worked her nubbin, and pushing a finger inside her to test her wetness. The time for violent action would be soon, and I wanted her lulled by soothing hands first.
After a dreamlike few minutes, I got up. I climbed back onto my stool and sucked her juices off my hand. She would never be wetter, and seemed hypnotized. "OK. Pass the word to bring him in. And make sure he's kept on a tight rein."
A ripple among the people four or five deep in the little crowd turned into quite a commotion by the time the dog-man appeared in the space at the front, two strong men fighting to hold him back. My girl lifted her head to watch his approach, and the eager pleasure in her eyes became naked fear as she saw the obsessive lust blanking all intelligence out of his. All at once she was a prisoner ready for a pagan sacrifice, the scent of her arousal drawing in this creature who, now I thought about it, did look rather like a heathen god. One moment of glorious anticipation, when a lustful heat rose in my own belly, watching the two actors in the drama and knowing that neither of them had any control over what was to happen, and the lead snapped.
The girl strained against her bonds as the dog-man leapt across her and skidded in a half-circle, but she could do nothing. It was scarcely two seconds before she was impaled with such a commanding thrust that her own gasp was drowned out by the crowd. From my privileged vantage point, I could smell the musk and sweat in a wave from the pair of them. The girl's perfect breasts were cruelly gripped in the creature's hands as he pushed at her, working his slickly alien cock in and out of her vagina, stretching her for that huge swelling at the base. I slid off my stool to watch more closely, crouching down just in time to see the round lump press against the tight hole. She moaned as the soft flesh stretched, the sound rising to a high scream when the force threatened to tear her apart. Finally, with an audible 'plop', the tortured lips closed around the cock's narrower base. I knew from experience that it would not be comfortable to be filled so full, but at least there was no blood, and the girl lapsed into hoarse panting in time with the jerking thrusts.
She raised her head and struggled to turn to me, getting far enough to show me her tear-stained face before dropping her forehead to the floor. I couldn't help my sticky fingers creeping to my own crotch at the sight of her despair. I worked my clit through the fabric of my dress in time with the frantic pace of the rutting before me. A good many others were doing the same. This beauty, still flawless despite her degradation, her tangled hair, the red fingermarks on the most sensitive parts of her body, was so utterly possessed by the strange body covering her that act plugged straight into the erotic centre of everybody present. Meanwhile, the creature, an insane light in his eyes, was reaching the climax of his arousal, the taut hairiness of his groin slamming into its soft counterpart as though to bury his whole body in it. He sank his fingernails into her shoulders, drawing out a fresh whimpering cry, and pulled her back to him as he twitched, pumping semen deep inside.
Swiftly, before they recovered, I unclicked the clamps. The pair of them sank sideways to the floor, and I saw the slow return of horrified intelligence to my pet's eyes as I walked away, the last twinges of my orgasm still in my belly. They would be publicly tangled together for some while yet, the beauty and the beast, and I knew I would enjoy the knowledge of it better than the sight. Let them come to terms with it themselves - I needed a rest.
Oh, I had a lot of fun in the remainder of that stay. But you don't want to hear even more from me . . . and anyway, I'm wasting my valuable time. I'll be sure to read what you've written, so be careful what you say! | null | Interview Three | Authors/deaconstories/Invpalace/InvPalaceInt3.txt |
101,544 | null | My Encounter With Duke... A True Story | You may be surprised, but a year ago, at age 20, I was still a virgin. Yes, as a 5'9" tall, 120 lb. gal with blond hair and 36C boobs, I was considered attractive, and I had had numerous opportunities to correct that situation, but I hated the idea of putting the chemicals of birth control pills in my system, and I sure didn't want to get pregnant.
I graduated high school at age 17. School had always been easy for me. I sent on to college and continued to find studies a breeze. I wanted to succeed in school, and I didn't want a pregnancy or binding relationship to hold me back.
I had a fair number of dates, and they often included heavy petting and oral sex. But, up to that time, no intercourse. During that time I did my share of reading about women being pleasured by dogs. I reasoned that since canines could not impregnate human females, dogs might be a source of pleasure for me.
I had been driving myself crazy wanting to take a male dog. I longed for the feel of a dog's tongue on me, devouring me, pleasing me, and eventually being knotted with a big dog. The thoughts drove me to masturbate, coming on my finger, as that's all I seem to be able to get inside my pussy.
About a year ago I went for a walk in the park to clear my mind. As I walked, I started to feel better, but as I rounded the corner from one clearing to a path about 300 yards to another clearing, I noticed a large dog in the distance. My recurring thoughts about canine pleasures resurfaced.
From where I was, I couldn't tell whether the dog was male or female. But I was getting wet just the same. I kept walking. As I started coming to the clearing I could tell the dog was a very large German Shepherd. It definitely was male. It had a very large sheath hanging from its belly.
I was still in no position to see if the dog's master was around. I felt a drop of fluid moisten my panties. I kept walking, but slowed my pace, not wanting to look too obvious. As I came to the clearing I casually looked around for the dog's owner, but could see no one.
I slowly closed the distance between me and the dog, still looking to see if anyone was around. I saw no one. As I reached the dog I discovered that he was even bigger than I first thought. I reached out to it with the back of my hand. First, he sniffed my hand, then started licking it.
By then my thoughts had caused my panties to be soaked. Apparently my juices attracted the dog's attention. He stuffed his nose in my crotch, and I felt my pussy squirt a little love juice into my panties.
I started heading toward a heavily treed area. The dog followed me. We walked into the trees a ways. Every once in a while the dog stuck his nose under my dress and sniffed my ass. After a little way into the woods I slipped my hand into my panties and got my fingers really wet. I took them out, turned around, letting the dog lick them off. After licking my hand, his nose went back to my crotch. He licked me, sending a shiver through me.
We kept moving along, but it was a little harder to walk with his nose in my ass. We made it to a little sheltered area. I turned, and his tongue went right to work on the outside of the front of my panties. His licking felt good. As I stood there... I came. It was the most intense orgasm ever, bringing me to my knees.
As I began to recover, I got hold of the band of my panties and pulled them down around the dog's nose... and finally off one foot. I opened my legs wide for my lover. His tongue went from my rose bud to my clit, and I could feel another orgasm building. It took just a few more of his licks, and I came again... stronger than before, bucking my hips frantically against his face, and again squirting some more juice. He lapped it up at once.
I looked down and saw his cock hanging there, and started getting second thoughts. He was huge. But the wonderful sensations his tongue were giving me made me reconsider. I managed to squirm away a bit and turned over. I worked my way to my knees. His tongue was still working away on my crotch as I let more juice squirt out.
I pulled his front legs forward one at a time until he had no choice but to mount me. I could feel his weight on my back, and his cock rubbing the inside of my thigh. He started thrusting everywhere, but not hitting my pussy. I reached back to grab him, and when I did, I found a monster cock that I couldn't get my hand around. But, I was so aroused I couldn't stop. I pulled it between my pussy lips. As soon as he felt his mark, he jammed forward and got about 2" in me. I cried from the pain. Then he rammed another 2" into me.
I didn't know what to do. Then he started hammering me like crazy. The pain started to subside, and I was feeling pleasure. Then I realized he was only halfway inside me, gaining only slightly. I started to come again, stuck on his shaft. I started pushing back as hard as I could. The orgasm was so strong I thought the top of my head was going to blow off. Then I passed out.
I was only out momentarily. When I came round he was slowing down, and I could feel his hot cum squirting inside me. I realized he was into me all but about 2" below his knot. At the realization he was that deep into me, I started coming again, writhing on his cock like mad... out of my mind with lust. After what felt like an hour (but really only minutes) I came again. I felt him pulling out with a gush of cum. I fell to the ground, feeling like would never walk straight again. He bent down and licked me clean. Then I heard someone calling "Duke," and he was gone.
I managed to get to my knees, then to my feet. I wiped off the cum running down my thigh with my panties. Then I left them behind and hobbled back home. I had a shower and realized I needed to buy a big vibrator and use it a lot if I were to ever accommodate a dog knot like I saw and felt on Duke.
The next morning I woke to my pussy screaming at me with pain. I had come home, had a shower, and had gone straight to bed... dreaming all night about my activities the day before. I was determined to find him again, and to feel his glorious knot.
I crawled out of bed and hobbled to the kitchen for toast and coffee. I sat at the table and started to calculate my plan of attack. Finishing, I went back to my bedroom, got dressed, and put a pad in my panties (I was starting to drip more doggy cum). I realized I was walking a lot better, which was a relief. I grabbed my purse and headed for the car.
I drove straight to a local adult novelty store, and went straight to the dildo section. After going over their vast selection, I chose a 12" red dildo about 1 1/2" round, and a couple tubes of lube. I paid for them while getting a strange look from the girl at the cashier's stand.
As I was driving home I noticed it wasn't just doggy cum dripping into my pad. My own love juices I had gotten so aroused shopping and contemplated what was to come that I felt an orgasm building. As soon as I got in the door, I dropped to the floor, put my hand into my panties, and started playing with my clit. I inserted my finger in my cunt, and started working to bring myself to an amazing climax.
I poured myself a large glass of wine. Then I drank it down rapidly, took my purchases straight to the bedroom, unpacked the dildo, and (after washing it) I was back in bed... nude. I applied some of the lube, not knowing if I needed it, but just in case. I was already soaked.
I brought the tip of the dildo to my cunt lips and started to insert it. My cunt was sore from the night before, so I just rammed it in 3"! It hurt a bit, but within a few seconds the pain started to turn to desire for more. I was producing so much love juice I could feel it running down the crack of my ass.
I wanted more, so I shoved it in another 3". It felt incredible. I started to come again as I worked it back and forth and further in... 3" at a time. On my last thrust I managed another 3", then collapsed on the bed, exhausted, with the dildo still sticking out of me... and fell asleep.
When I awoke I was quite pleased with myself, and continued the routine 4 and 5 times a day for four days... in preparation for Duke... if I could find him again. I must admit I sure enjoyed getting ready. | null | null | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/P - PLEASURE PETS/P-118 - My Encounter With Duke... A True Story.txt |
101,571 | CrystalOne | Advice to Women on Anal Sex | Yup... if you get fucked in the ass before you are ready to take it, it can be incredibly painful.
The only way I can handle a cock in my ass... I only do it as an occasional treat, it can feel great, but that back entrance really is more vulnerable to damage than the vagina, and I am very careful not to overdo it... is if I stretch myself beforehand.
Start with one finger, using plenty of lubricant (I use Vaseline, but don't use that if you are also using condoms) and just kind of get your rectum used to that one finger. Just hold it in there for a while, then move it around, until it starts to feel good to you, and you feel yourself relaxing.
Then try to insert a second finger, after going back for more lubricant (use TONS of lubricant). Again, just keep it there until it's comfortable. Move the two fingers in and out once you are relaxed, until it feels good. Generally, you can then switch to a dildo or some vegetable that is the same width (or wider) than the cock you want to take.
Remember, use lots of lubricant, same routine. If it takes an hour to get ready for the sex (and it takes me at least a good fifteen minutes, generally) then take an hour. Don't even try to take a cock back there until you are stretched-out enough, relaxed, turned-on, and lubricated with artificial lubricants to the MAX.
I promise you, if it's done very, very carefully, and done right, it can be incredibly pleasurable, in a way that even regular sex is not. It is hard to describe, it's really quite wonderful.
Good luck! Love, CrystalOne
A note from Joan...
For further information and suggestions by another woman who regularly enjoys anal sex, read my file # J3-118. On page 36, Anita offers her suggestions and thoughts on this subject.
Joan | null | null | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/A - ADVICE FILES/A04 - Anal How To Guide.txt |
101,659 | null | Wrapped in the `Cosmic Calculus' - Both Husband and Wife Gain Black Lovers | You know it's that time of year when you get all the copper-bearing bottom paint, the power sander, rollers, extensions and tape and head down to your sailboat for three days to redo the bottom in preparation for re-launching it for the current sailing season.
Old clothes, a tall ladder to get up into the boat with and the pleasure of a shower each day after the mess is over with until the next when it's dry and you can put the last coat on. It's 75 miles each way to where the boat is slipped or kept out on land for the winter, so I usually go down and sleep on the boat a couple of nights and use the marina's heated showers and bathroom. The television works, and there's a heater when I hook the boat up to the yard's electric power just like it was in its slip and hooked up to 120-volt shore power.
Lots of meals at the local restaurant, a couple of extra blankets aboard, and a certain amount of satisfaction when you're done. This year looked to me to be a pretty easy year, and when I left, I told my wife Beth that I wouldn't be more than three days, but if I could do it in two, I'd use the cell phone and call to let her know I'd be home earlier. We've been married a while, and a few days away never hurt anything with her work schedule and mine. I miss her and all her freckles and softness, but it always is nice when I get home too.
This year, everything went right. The weather cooperated, the ablative coating was thin enough to need only minimal sanding, and by 4 o'clock on Sunday, I was done. I decided to go to the showers, get cleaned up, and head home and surprise Beth. Wouldn't be much of a surprise if I called her, so I didn't. I did stop and buy her a pot full of blooming daffodils that had been forced over the winter and sat it on the car's front seat while I hummed my way homeward, expecting to surprise Beth.
The car glided around the last bend and up our driveway while I relaxed, happy to finally be home with the task done for another year. The porch light was on, and there was a bicycle in the driveway, which wasn't ours, which was unusual at 7:30 on a dark Sunday evening.
I walked around the bike and thought that it looked almost like Marcus Antaneau, a Nigerian man who, with his wife, lived in a 6,000 square foot home three doors from ours. Curious thing, but everyone in our subdivision were friends, or at least nodding acquaintances.
It was my habit to walk back to the garden and check on the plants before I went in, and I followed my habit that night as well. The garden was fine, and I turned back toward the house to close the car and to go in and say hello... when I noticed my master bedroom lights were on, and the shades were partially open. You could see in easily because of the low light inside, but no one could see out, so I detoured over there to see what it looked like since I'd never been outside like that before. The sidewalk was just next to the two bedroom windows. I stopped when I got to it and carefully looked in.
Surprise would be putting it mildly. As far as I knew, she had never cheated, and neither had I, but when I looked in, I was completely shocked to see the dark black skin of Marcus on his back, laid across the cream-colored sheets of our king-sized bed. Next to him was my very-naked wife Beth on hands and knees, with her eyes focused on Marcus' groin, where his enormous erection was waving and standing firm. Her breasts hung down, brushing back and forth over his thighs, and her stomach sagged below the dark bush between her parted legs, which were moving in little, regular movements.
My heart stopped, and my breathing staggered while I attempted to take it all in. At first, I couldn't, and wouldn't believe it. During the time I was coming to grasp with the reality of what I saw, Beth reached out and put one hand at the base of his stomach and curled her slim fingers and palm around his cock down at the base in his curly hair, then pulled the skin upward while she watched with parted lips and obvious lust. Her naked knees were apart, and she was almost panting. Her butt was totally exposed and obviously ready. I'd never seen her from an angle like this while we had sex. It was damned exciting, in a perverse sort of way, and had me stopped cold, not even worrying about the fact that it was my wife I was watching. I was surprised at all of it, but I did nothing to stop it. As I stood, they continued, passion totally controlling them.
As her curled hand pulled the skin upward, it slid over the helmeted head of his huge cock and hid it beneath the rich black skin, showing only the outline, which she dripped one drop of spit onto. Obviously, he had an uncircumcised and very large cock. I wasn't small or average, maybe above average, but this was enough to get any woman who gone this far excited enough to go the rest of the way. The contrast with his dark skin on the sheets and my wife's fair skin was a tableau that just never occurred any other way and kept me speechless and motionless. I ought to have run in and shot the bastard, or maybe both of them, but I didn't. Instead, I just stood there doing something I'd never done before.....I watched.
Marcus, on the other hand, was very involved. He tensed the muscles of his butt, which pushed his cockhead towards her face as he reached out for one of her swinging breasts and held her nipple between his fingers and thumb and pulled as her hand pulled the skin back down the shaft to reveal the pinkish-colored head of his cock with its wet little drip of clear lubricant which oozed out of the slit at the top. It was too much for Beth, who swallowed it with one gulp, obviously wrapping her tongue around the shaft, laving it with spit and passion. Her other hand found his balls and lifted them from the sheets, and she rolled them in her palm. As she did, she started bucking her hips, which were now facing me. Her bottom was open, and her vagina swollen and rounded on both sides, with moisture lacing the long joint where her lips came together, undulating down its length.
As I watched, her hips stopped, jiggled, then started to move rhythmically until she took her mouth off his cock and said something to Marcus that I couldn't hear. It was all he needed as he hoisted her up, then helped her straddle his legs with hers, putting her pussy right over the head of his cock. She reached down as they kissed and guided the head against her vagina lips. No more than one rub up and one part way down, and she slammed her hips over it and forced it inside her with one powerful and needy shove.
They stroked like that five or six times until her stomach muscles coiled and ground. She started that squeezing inside which meant she was going to cum. When she did, she pushed her hips down as he pulled until Marcus' cock was inside her all the way to the curly hair at the base, expanding her width and making her head tip back and cry out as she came. Her splatter came oozing out past her pussy lips which sealed imperfectly now against Marcus' wide cock and ran down his balls as she came and came in pulse after pulse until he couldn't help himself, and thrust his big cock upward, carrying her entire body with it as he came.
It was too much. My cock was hard as a rock, and I wanted to kill both of them... or watch forever. It was hard to tell which, and hard to tell what to do next. Somehow, barging in didn't seem to be the thing to do any longer, so I went back to the car, started it, and left the driveway to drive around the block and cool off for ten or fifteen minutes. When I was cooler, I decided that the cell phone might be the first thing for me to do and see what she would do when I called and said I was ten minutes away.
I dialed, and it rang three times before she picked it up. It was very quiet on her end when I told her I'd finished early and had a flower for her in ten minutes when I'd be home. She was valiant, hardly did more than skip a quick breath as she told me she'd be taking a shower when I got there and would be right out.
I hung up, looked at my watch, and waited ten minutes. In five, Marcus came out with his underwear wadded into a pocket, grabbed his bike, and rode out of our driveway and over to his house. In ten, I pulled in the driveway and took the flowers and my sailing stuff inside and put the painting stuff away before saying hello into the master bathroom. It was always nice to see a freshly made bed and a clean wife after being gone two days. There was a new room deodorant spray smell in the room, which was pleasant but doubtless covered up the musky smell of sex.
Somehow, I managed a 'hello' and revealed nothing. Beth finished her shower and must have been the greatest actress ever to join me and act like absolutely nothing had happened other than red skin and wide eyes presumably from her shower. I suppose I was hurt but at the same time, I had been wildly excited and knew that in the cosmic calculus, she "owed" me one. It would be one I'd never taken, and I kind of liked the idea that I could do the same and be guilt-free. Maybe after I had, I would bring it all up, and we could be balanced again.Time would tell as we spent the evening as we always did before bed. In bed, she was unreal, sucked my cock and fucked me like there was no tomorrow, even sliding her ass over it, which was usually only a birthday treat. This wasn't all bad, and I was the only one who knew that I knew!
By Monday, I was back in the groove, and we returned to work - her at hers and me at mine. Nothing happened while we were around each other constantly, and two weeks passed with me wondering when I ought to see about getting my little guilt-free affair in. The truth is, I had no clue.
The problem took care of itself a week later. I work at home some days, and this Tuesday was one of those days. Beth went in to work, and I worked all morning long in my studio. At noon, I took a break and went for a walk. I circled the development and returned past Marcus' house. When I got near the garage, I could see his wife, BelAnn, inside, agitated and upset. I said hello, and she only waved, which was unusual, so I walked up the drive to see if I could help.
Well, when I got there, I could see she had been crying. I didn't need to say anything because she stopped with a decisive nod of her head to herself and motioned me over into the garage.
"Bill, I'm glad you came over. Please come inside with me. There is something I have to talk about with you."
I was pretty sure I knew that it was going to come out, or already had, about her Marcus and my Beth... and I hesitated. She reached out and touched my hand with hers, saying, "Come on, silly. I won't bite."
She turned and walked the length of the garage in her soft dress as I followed her through it, then up the few steps into the house. When we were inside, she reached around for the garage opener and triggered it down. "We don't need stray pets in here. Come in. Can I get you a soft drink? A beer maybe?"
BelAnn was a very light-skinned black woman with perhaps a hint of European somewhere in her background. She was tall at 5' 10" and had a narrow waist with generous hips atop long and slender legs. Her neck was elegant, and her eyes were piercing with soft, dark hair fashioned as much European as her African heritage.
When she turned and asked me about the beer, I couldn't help but notice her breasts that swelled the top of her simple dress, obviously swinging freely without the benefit of a bra. If you were into counting size, I'd have to guess 44DD and full nipples. It was enough to get a reaction from my libido.
She cut right to the chase. "You know about Marcus and Beth?"
All I could do was take a sip and nod. "Was it just once?"
She sniffled, firmed up, then said, "Yes, just once with Beth."
"How do you feel about it, BelAnn?"
"You know, I'm hurt, worried, all that. He's been in demand before, and I've had to find a way to live with it. Have you and Beth talked about it too?"
"No. In fact, she doesn't know I know. I got home early and happened to walk around back and see them through the window. I felt like a voyeur and waited until Marcus left before I came in. Cowardly, I guess."
"I've never watched anyone else do it. If you watched, you know why she had Marcus, don't you?"
I just nodded. "He's striking and," I paused there. "He's big, very big and very black."
"Exactly. Well, I wouldn't hold it against her, she's not his first." She looked sideways and puzzled and asked, "By the way, why didn't you say something to her?" She looked curiously, waiting for an answer.
I stumbled and fumbled for words at the directness of her question. "Well, I, ah, uh, I sort of figured it was part of the cosmic calculus."
She pulled her head up, and her eyes regained their smile as she whipped the following toward me. "The what?"
"I've never cheated, and now I figure now I am owed one. After that, I was going to tell her and see where it would lead."
She laughed enough to shake the big breasts resting inside her cotton dress. "The cosmic calculus, eh. Has it worked out for you yet?"
Explosively, I snorted. "Christ, BelAnn, I haven't done anything. Nothing, zip, nada."
BelAnn's eyes flashed at me, and she put her elegantly-long hand out, touching my knee. "Want to?"
"With you?"
She looked straight into my eyes and nodded before saying, "Now. It's time I got some of that cosmic calculus as well."
Even more stunned than I had been the other night looking through the window, all I could think of was to repeat my question. "Now?"
"Uh, huh." When the word left her lips, she winked, reached up, ripped the top of her dress open, and spilled the biggest breasts I'd ever seen out before my eyes, and she said, "Hold them. You won't regret it."
They swung from the middle of her chest out to her sides and back, heavy with flesh and firmness as she moved my hand to the bottom of her right breast. I cupped my right hand over her aureole and nipple, holding the weight of it in my hand.
She looked down and parted her lips when she sighed with the feelings my touch sent through her body. "Hal, look at how white your hand looks against my skin? Isn't it wonderful?"
I melted with one look around, to be sure we were alone, before nodding and moving my head closer to hers and feeling the heat of her lips which were without makeup but wide and somewhat thicker than Beth's; sensual just by existing.
Our lips touched, and she moved her legs apart but closer to me, shimmying and shaking to drop the dress from her hips, leaving her standing with swaying breasts and a pair of white high-cut panties. Her mouth opened, and my tongue went inside as she did the same to me. Below, her hand had coursed across my chest, unbuckled my belt, and undone my pants which dropped. That caused me to step away, dressed only in my boxers.
BelAnn sucked on my tongue and pushed her other breast against me as her hand slid inside my shorts and found my balls. She cradled them before feeling upward and moving around my fully engaged cock. Her touch was electric, and I pulled back from her lips approvingly.
As I did so, she whispered in my ear, "This is only the second cock I've ever touched, Hal, but it's the second big one I've had, and I'm going to fuck you until your cosmic clock is cleaned out."
Before I could even move, she dropped to her knees, tits sliding down my front and over my cock, and sucked the head inside her mouth. I watched as her lips sealed around it and felt the warmth of my cockhead at the back of her throat. Then her tongue moved over and around my shaft, cushioning it, cradling it, heating it with her moisture.
"No white woman could ever match the ability of her large tongue and lips to suck a cock," was the only thought that ran through my mind. Certainly Beth hadn't been able to come close. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven as BelAnn held my balls and sucked my cock, inhaling in noisy, fast breaths.
Over her back, I looked down the bumps of her spine to where her hips divided, and I could see the tips of her vaginal lips and hair as they glistened, swelled, and moved with her efforts. The more I watched, the more I really wanted my cock inside this dark-skinned goddess... and later on to lay atop her tits.
She must have felt it and moved easily when he asked her, "BelAnn, honey, I want you and I want you now. Let's go to the bedroom... on your bed."
Her slurp as my cock slipped out of her mouth was answer enough before she sprinted away down the hall, big butt cheeks flying, and legs churning as I raced to catch up.
She fell on the bed and rolled onto her back. Then she pulled her legs up to her tits and showed me her pussy. I stopped and touched it, the first black pussy I had ever touched!
She jerked and ground her hips at my touch, but moaned happily as I returned and parted her lips with my finger to reveal the pinkest inner vagina I'd ever seen, surrounded by dark skin. It was too much, and my head bobbed, and my tongue touched her button in the keyhole at the top of her pussy. She screamed, "Shit, Hal. Shit, Shit, Shit. Fuck me. Fuck me now."
By this time, my cock was dripping my own juices as I slid my tongue up her vagina... and then down and dug it into her pink and moist opening.
I took my time and did it three times before I noticed her tummy starting to jerk spasmodically. Quickly, I raised my head and positioned my cock in front of her pussy. I guided it up against her pussy with my hand. I took the head and placed it just below her clit and gently pushed enough to bury the rim within her outer lips... before sliding it lower and lower until her push swallowed and enveloped me.
When I felt the head of my cock spreading her opening, then getting past it, I picked up the pace and began stroking into her and out, in and out as I felt her anus with my wet little finger. I eagerly sucked the nipple she offered me. When I released it, she grunted and turned her large tit to herself and sucked the same nipple while I watched and drove my cock against her cervix. Her heat flooded me with her first orgasm.
I stopped, let my cock fill her, then when her last spasm was done, I withdrew partly until the top of my cock was raking the rough little patch of skin inside her body... directly behind her clit. I raked it once, and then again, as I moved up and back inside her, never moving more than an inch.
It was too much for BelAnn. She screamed a long wail and came all over me while pulling myself deeper against her. For me, the intense pleasure was too much. A flood of my white, creamy liquid shot into her in pulses. That set her off once again.
Neither of us were done. We both settled down to some serious pumping for several strokes before I rolled to the side, rolled her up, and on top of me.There she controlled the pumping and swung her massive tits to and fro until I grabbed one in each hand and pulled until she leaned toward me and used her muscles to squeeze my cock, getting one last squirt of my cum in the process.
She wasn't human right then, nor was I as we both grunted, sweated, and smelled the sweat of our fucking. She lifted up and turned enough to suck my cock back to life. When she had examined it, licked it, and felt the taste of both their juices, she kneeled over it again. But this time, Bahai rubbed it with her pussy until it was wet again. Then she put it against her ass and slowly slid her butt over my renewed cock, burying it in her rectum. She just smiled that special smile down at me.
I used my fingers and entered her vagina, touching my own cock inside her body through the tissues that narrowly separated the two channels. She twitched and leaned forward with lips open to mine. When we kissed, we both tasted the mixture of our combined cum... the cum that she had licked from my cock.
Her hand found the panties she had discarded in haste, and she rubbed it across her pussy before bringing it to my nose. I inhaled it as I came one last time. She came too. As she fell in a screaming faint, the panties landed around my neck where they rested as we lay entwined, connected and filled with the energy of the sex we had just completed.
Neither of us could speak. Nor did we want to. We were both now emotionally discharged enough that she curled her head against my neck and began to breathe deeply, began to nap, happy with what she'd just done.
Spent, I joined her and we slept a contented twenty minutes curled and wet with each other's juices until she stirred and whispered, "What should we do now, Hal?"
"You mean, do we tell them?"
"Yeah, that's what I was wondering."
"What do you think we ought to do, BelAnn?"
Her wiggle told me what she'd say as she answered. "I think we ought to keep the cosmic calculus to ourselves... until we've got it right, don't you?"
I laughed and squeezed her. "So far we have only done it in two positions, right, BelAnn?"
"Sixty Seven to go until we even begin to think about finishing the calculus... by my way of thinking," she responded with a devilish grin.
I let my hand roll one of her large breasts over, and felt the button on the end as I kissed her ear. "Honey, it's going to take years for you and I to get this perfected. We can tell them once we get it right, eh?"
She nodded, kissed my neck after moving her panties aside and balling the wet nylon into the pocket of my pants.
"Find someplace safe for these, and when you want me, take them out, feel me in them and come to me. I'll be here. Marcus and Beth have no clue what they've started!"
Any reasonable man would have to agree. Even one whose cock was swelling and whose smile was nearly adding a new face to my skull. It was new and different, but it was definitely part of the cosmic calculus... and it was working out beautifully. | null | null | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/I-100 INTERRACIAL EXPERIENCES/I-126-Black Guy For Both.txt |
101,867 | null | I Love Sharing My Wife | Yes, I love sharing my wife. It is one of the greatest experiences I have ever had. At first, I was concerned that I might get jealous. But it didn't happen. Even that first time, while Dennis was fucking her, my wife made sure I did not feel left out.
We were living in Germany at the time. My wife and I had been talking about trying a threesome. I am the one who brought up the subject. We talked about it for several weeks. We finally decided to do it, but we weren't sure who to ask to join us.
We had a friend in the same apartment building we were in that we both felt we could approach. Come to find out, he was gay. Not to be derailed, we kept looking. Then we decided on a close friend. It turns out he had participated in a threesome before. So he was the perfect choice.
We invited him over for dinner. At that point, he had no idea we wanted a threesome. We had wine with dinner, and after several glasses, my wife (Donna) went into the bedroom and slipped into a negligee. When she returned to the living room, Dennis and I were sitting on the couch. She sat down between us.
When she sat down, the negligee parted, revealing her upper thigh. Dennis stole a quick look, but then turned away. I reached over and started stroking her leg as I continued to talk with Dennis. He was polite and forced himself not to stare.
After a few minutes of small talk, I kissed Donna... hard and deep. When we pulled apart, she turned slightly and kissed Dennis. He returned her kiss. As they were kissing, I started stroking her breasts... and I pulled her negligee down to reveal her bare tits. That move was not lost on Dennis. He started stroking them too.
Within a few minutes, Donna was naked, laying on the couch. I was sucking on her tits, and Dennis was between her legs, feasting on her hot pussy. The couch just was not big enough for what we had in mind. I suggested we head to the bedroom. No one objected.
As soon as we entered the bedroom, our clothes were coming off. Donna was already hot and horny due to the combination of the wine and the foreplay. I laid her on the bed and started eating her pussy while Dennis positioned himself above her face so she could suck his cock. And suck him she did.
In no time, the bedroom was full of the aroma of sex. There is no more arousing aroma in the world than sex. After a few minutes, Donna got on her hands and knees so Dennis could take her doggie style. I positioned myself under her so I could eat her, and she could suck my cock while being fucked by Dennis.
Such a view. It is so incredible to watch at close quarters while another guy's cock is fucking your lady. It was just so amazing to watch.
There was a time or two that Dennis slipped out and slid into my mouth. That was a first for me. It only lasted a few seconds before he shoved his cock back deep into Donna's wet, eager pussy. We went from that position to Dennis on top of her while she was still sucking my cock.
He was ramming his cock as deep into her as possible, and I was force-feeding her every inch of my cock. At some point, I had to go to the bathroom. I wasn't sure if they would stop and wait for me or continue. I believe I wanted them to stop, but they didn't. I was sure I was going to be jealous... but standing back watching Dennis fuck Donna was beyond description. I didn't experience a tinge of jealousy.
As Dennis continued fucking my wife, I came back into the room. She motioned me over. I bent down and slid my cock back into her mouth. Within a few minutes, I was pumping a load of cum down her throat. Dennis and Donna kept fucking as I watched. I loved every minute of it.
After about 10 minutes more, Dennis shot his load of cum deep into my Donna's well-fucked pussy. I could see his cum oozing from the sides of her pussy. He finally stopped cumming and slid his cock from her messy cunt.
As soon as he did, my cock was ready to fuck her. I slid my hard, throbbing cock into her cummy pussy. That sensation was incredible. I had never had "sloppy seconds" before, but I loved it... the way it felt sliding into her, knowing another man's cum was still hot in her pussy. I fucked her for another twenty minutes before I also came deep inside her luscious pussy.
It was an experience I will never forget... and always cherish. Watching Dennis fucking my wife, and her sucking his cock, will always be a favorite memory.
I have since shared my Donna with several other guys, and we have both loved it every time.
A note from Donna... to other wives:
The one thing YOU must decide is: do YOU want to do it and live with the consequences? If you are reasonably sure your husband can and will accept it, then there is only YOU to decide.
My experiences show me that having sex with a friend is more complicated than with a stranger, for one has to worry about your reputation, what would he/she say to others, etc. But it is extremely pleasing to do it with someone you BOTH trust. The experience with a complete stranger is by no means unselective. There has to be something about the stranger that you desire or that turns you or both of you on about the stranger.
But I DO Recommend it. Do enjoy, no matter what.
Donna | null | null | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/3-300-499 MFM STORIES BY HIM/3-333 - His report on why he enjoys sharing his wife with other guys... and her coments on how she loves it.txt |
101,960 | Barb | Her Favorite Part of MFM Fun | You asked me what part of MFM threesomes I enjoy the most. OK, Joan - here goes!
I call them "My Snuggly Sandwich Sessions." They are those special times when I am snuggled between two warm, masculine bodies. It usually happens after both guys have had at least one really good orgasm... and I have already had two or more really good ones of my own.
Usually Harv (my husband) has just finished his orgasm (you know - guests first!) and has just rolled onto his side next to me. I tend to roll toward Harv to cuddle with him. Then the other guy, if he has been with us before, takes that as his cue to roll against my back and cuddle with me from behind. Typically he has had enough time to recover, and I begin to feel his hard cock pressing against my back - then lower - by my buns - then I lift my upper leg a bit, and he slides his dick between my legs and into my pussy.
It's often one solid thrust into me and then a leisurely stroking begins. Depending upon who it is, he may rub my back while slowly stroking in and out of me. Or he may reach around and cup one of my breasts. Meanwhile, I start necking with my number one man as we cuddle and run our hands over each other's body.
That's my favorite time in MFM sex. Being tightly sandwiched between two guys who obviously enjoy being with me - and within me.
Sometimes such sessions involve penetration by our guest extra guy. Sometimes they involve double penetration. Sometimes there is no penetration - just holding and snuggling. I enjoy all variations.
We can languish like that for 30 to 45 minutes, just enjoying the shared feelings. During that time I usually begin playing with Harv's cock until it rises again. Sometimes (often, actually) Harv starts playing with my clit and/or feeling the extra cock slowly sliding in and out of my pussy.
Harv and I often talk to each other during these times. Usually in a whispered tone. We tell each other how much we love each other. He often asks me how I am feeling at the moment, what kind of sensations the other guy's dick is creating within me. Sometimes he tells me he wishes he had a pussy so he could experience those feelings. He thanks me for sharing the feelings that "our shared pussy" is experiencing.
Sometimes Harv takes one of my breasts into his mouth and sucks on it. Or he studies my eyes as they flutter in response to the pleasurable sensations coursing through my body at that moment.
Sometimes Harv presses his renewed dick against my pussy opening, right next to the cock which is working within me. If the setting is right, Harv presses tighter against me and lets his dick slide on in - along with the other dick - and they get into a rhythm within me. That never fails to turn my pleasure up several notches.
I generally have several relatively gentle orgasms during these single or double penetration "sandwich sessions," before I have a really big, body-wrenching orgasm. That generally sets off the guy behind me, causing him to flood my pussy with another hot load. Obviously, if Harv is also inside me, that tends to set him off too.
Sometimes I let the extra guy start this whole "sandwich session" by entering me anally (other than Harv, there are only 2 guys who I let do this). I hand him the lube, and he knows that I am giving permission for a gentle backside entry. On those occasions I whisper to Harv that (the extra guy) is filling my backside. He knows this means I will welcome his dick in my pussy as soon as it is ready.
If the guy in my backside is gentle, I love this kind of double penetration. Actually, I love both kinds of double penetration while I lay on my side between them. I mean - I REALLY LOVE all that fullness and counter movements within me. It seems to enable me to enjoy more intense orgasms.
Sure, I enjoy most of the other things two guys can do with me in bed, but I enjoy those "sandwich sessions" most of all.
Harv and I got into inviting others to join us in bed about 4 years ago, after we had been married about 2 years. We started by visiting a swingers motel. We had read about it in one of the local "alternative newspapers."
The story said that people went there to swim nude in the motel's indoor pool, to meet other swingers, and to use the rooms for swapping mates. Naturally, the article was a bit sarcastic about the people who frequented the place, but the article got Harv and me talking.
We had both had our share of sexual experiences before marriage, but had had only each other since our wedding two years earlier. We had read about couples having other people in their shared sex life. Those stories did not repulse us. Rather, they tended to turn us on a lot.
After reading about the adult motel, we thought it would be cool to be able to swim nude with other adults, and to watch to see what the others did with each other. At that point, we really did not intend to "swap mates."
One Friday night we just decided to go. It was a sort of spur-of-the-moment thing. Just a lark.
We checked in and asked where the pool was. The desk clerk pointed to our room and then to the pool. He said we could use the robes in the room for going back and forth to the enclosed pool.
The room was nothing to write home about, but it was clean. It also had mirrors on the ceiling. We giggled, shed our clothes, put on the motel-provided robes and headed for the pool building.
It was neat. A crystal ball slowly turned near the ceiling, and a few blue lights aiming at it caused flashes of blue light in the otherwise dimly-lit pool room. Surprisingly, there were a lot of people there! I also noticed that there were more guys than gals (about 6 or 7 guys for every 4 gals). I also noticed that everyone was stark naked!
We hung up our robes and jumped into the warm pool. We stuck together. I could not take my eyes off all the man-meat casually hanging at the crotches of the guys who were walking around. I noticed that Harv was getting his eyes happily filled with all the bare breasts and exposed pussies.
Some of the folks were sitting in a hot tub that was off to the side. Others were playing water volleyball. However, others were openly having sex in the pool or along its sides.
A couple different gals were giving blowjobs to receptive guys as the guys sat on the pool's edge. Another gal was laying back on the pool deck near the shallow end of the pool. A guy, standing in the water and holding her legs up in the air, was screwing her with abandon while another guy sucked on her breasts.
We eventually started talking with some of the folks. When they realized we were new, they told us more about the motel and the activities there. Apparently, it is couples-only on Saturday nights, but singles and couples are both welcome on Friday nights. That explained the extra guys that evening.
Eventually, one couple invited us to visit their room to see "the love machine" that they said was a feature of their room. Without thinking much about it, we went along with them. They were an attractive, friendly couple. They seemed to mean no harm.
At their room, the fellow (Sam) asked me to sit on the seat of "the love machine." Hesitantly, I shed my robe and did so. Harv, Patty (Sam's wife) and Sam dropped their robes too.
Sam moved my legs up into the stirrups. The contraption was built sort of like a cross between an exercise machine and a gynecologist's table. There was another little seat between my spread-apart legs, a little lower. Sam sat down on the lower seat and proceeded to lick and suck my pussy.
I looked up to see what Harv might be thinking. He had already left the little alcove that housed "the love machine." Patty was leading him to their bed. I thought, 'If he is going to enjoy himself, so will I.' I began to relax and enjoy Sam's oral treatment.
Soon I was writhing in a most enjoyable orgasm. When it had subsided, Sam took my hand and led me to the bed where Harv and Patty were already enjoying a hot 69. Sam laid me back. His dick was already quite hard. With little preliminaries, Sam was on top of me and his dick was sliding home.
About that time, Harv and Patty twisted around so that they were laying next to us, and Harv slid his dick into Patty while watching me for my reaction. What reaction could I give. I was doing the same thing.
Sam felt good inside me, but this time, with Harv and Patty laying next to me, I couldn't seem to reach an orgasm. I sort of pretended. Then Sam let loose a spray within me. Shortly after, Harv shot his load into Patty as she writhed in her own orgasm. Eventually, we headed back to the pool and Sam and Patty found another couple to play with.
Harv got to talking with a good-looking single guy who was quite well-hung. Soon Harv asked if he could invite the other guy to join us back at our room. In view of the extensive sexual action around us (and with thoughts of the guy's extra big dick), I agreed.
That turned into my first two-guy threesome. It was really enjoyable.I came several times as the guys played with me in different ways. That large cock felt extra good inside me!
After the guy left, and before finally falling asleep, I told Harv that I had really enjoyed the threesome, but really had not been able to relax enough to cum while Sam screwed me.
About a week and a half later, we were invited to Sam and Patty's place. We went, and we all ended up in their bed again. I had the same problem again. But I played along. I guess I again faked an orgasm.
A few weeks later, we went to the motel again. We met another attractive couple and "partied" with them too. Same problem. I seemed to be too distracted by what Harv and his partner were doing. It seemed to keep me from totally enjoying myself.
Later, back at the pool, I got to talking with another lady who professed to visit the place often with her husband. I confided my problem to her. She said I should try more two-guy threesomes. Maybe "swapping" was not my thing.
During our two visits to the motel, Harv got phone numbers from several of the single guys. After talking about my situation, Harv said he did not mind switching from the couple-couple thing to threesomes. For the most part, that is what we have been regularly doing ever since.
Harv does not seem to feel shortchanged. He seems to truly enjoy sharing me with another guy. However, I eventually began thinking that I should set up some situation where Harv could enjoy two gals. It seemed only fair.
That's when I thought about my younger sis who was soon to move to our town to start college. She had already done about a year and a half at a community college back home, and wanted to get started at a bigger college near us.
My sis, Carrie, and I had always been quite open about sharing our sexual experiences, but I had never told her about the experiences Harv and I had at the adult motel, nor with threesome sex. Carrie was 19 at the time she moved to where we lived. She was three years younger than me.
I began to plot a way I could get Carrie to join me in giving Harv a really special treat. His birthday was coming up about the time Carrie was to arrive, so I thought I could make his birthday special.
By that point, Harv had been regularly setting up "gift" threesomes for me. I enjoyed them all! I had actually experienced two-guy threesomes with at least 8 different guys. Some of them had come over to join me and Harv multiple times.
Harv always seemed to enjoy my enjoyment right along with me. He likes to hold and cuddle with me while another guy is screwing me, etc. Sometimes Harv likes to videotape my times with another guy. They are a real turn-on for us to watch when we are making love alone.
When Carrie arrived in town, Harv was at work, so I picked her up at the airport. I took her home and we got comfortable. Then I turned on the VCR that had a tape in it showing me with another guy. That really got Carrie's attention.
That gave me the opportunity to tell her what we had been doing. She was a bit awe-struck at first, but soon showed evidence that my stories were turning her on.
Then I told her about my ideas for giving Harv a special two-gal treat for his birthday. To my happy surprise, Carrie eventually agreed.
Carrie is going to write you and tell you what happened that night, so I won't go into the details. It was GREAT! Harv totally enjoyed both of us that night, the next night, and numerous times since. I have also since set up threesome "gifts" for Harv, with two other gals. But, for the most part, our threesomes still consist of Harv bringing an extra guy for my special "enhanced" pleasures.
We have introduced Carrie to several of our swinging friends. Some of them have invited her to join them for threesomes. She has become a much sought-after "extra gal." She has often thanked me for introducing her to the threesome lifestyle. She still dates other individual guys, but periodically joins us and other couples for threesome fun.
We have again tried a few more "swap" sessions. They have been better, but we still MUCH prefer threesomes. Especially "My Snuggly Sandwich Sessions."
Love to ya!
Barb
NOTE from Joan: Carrie's story is now at 3-551-XGAL. | null | null | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/3-000 MFM STORIES BY HER/3-022-Barb.txt |
101,980 | Nan | My Special Week | You already have lots of stories in your "library" written by women and couples about how they started their 3-some experiences. So, I won't spend a lot of time telling you about that. Rather, I want to let you and your readers know about a particularly fun week I recently experienced with my hubby (John) and our friend Evan.
Evan had just broken up with his girlfriend (a rather bitchy woman who apparently was great in the bedroom, but who was a "pris" outside of the bedroom and a pain to be around). He wanted to celebrate. He had some vacation time coming, and so did John and I.
We booked a week at a condo in the French section on St. Martin Island (northeastern Caribbean). John and I told our folks that the two of us just wanted to get away on our own for a week, so my mom agreed to take care of our two kids. John and I met Evan at the airport, and the three of us headed off for St. Martin.
I guess I need to give you a little background before I tell about our week together.
Evan has been a long-time friend of both John and me. He and John were friends in college. They did everything together. Then, when John and I got together, I too found Evan a delightful friend. The three of us went to sporting events together, had picnics together, and worked on John's old hot rod together. Evan spent lots of time at our place... but, it was just "good friends," there was no sex involved.
One Sunday afternoon we had all been out in the garage, tinkering with John's old car. We were all a bit dirty from our work. When we decided to end our work and have some beers, I told them I had to take a shower. Then John said he and Evan had better take one too. When I got out of the shower, I just put on a brief halter top and one of my favorite kick-around-the-house skirts. Obviously, with the halter top, I did not bother with a bra... just thong panties under my skirt.
When I came out, both guys were parading around the house with beers in their hands, just wearing their undershorts. That was not all that unusual. John and I were pretty informal around Evan. They had been in just their undershorts (in our house) on a few other occasions when the weather was hot... and it sure was hot that day. I told them to give me their clothes, and I would throw them in the washing machine (Evan had not brought any extra clothes... and he had really gotten dirty) while they showered.
To my surprise, once they were in the bathroom, they threw their undershorts out to add to the dirty clothes pile. Yah, they were sweaty too. I just grinned, and put them all into the machine. I opened a beer and relaxed on the living room floor as I waited for them.
When they came out, they just had towels wrapped around their loins, with the ends stuffed in to keep them in place. I commented on how they were sure beating the heat, and they grabbed fresh beers and joined me on the floor. We talked and joked (as we had done many times), and then John said to me, "Lay face down, baby, and I will give you a massage as we talk." That sounded good to me, so I did it.
Moments into his back rubbing efforts, my hubby undid the back fastener on my halter top, "so I can massage your entire back, baby," he said. They as I lay there I hear him say, "Evan, you do her legs." I thought, "hmmmmm," but did not move to object. Evan started at my feet while John continued to massage my back... and the joking continued as always.
John's hands began to move down around my sides and caressed the sides of my breasts. I learned later that my hubby had motioned to Evan that he should move further up my legs with his massaging efforts. I felt Evan's hands move up under my rather loose skirt, almost all the way up to my buns. Feeling that, I turned on my side and said, "Hey, what gives?" John simply said, "Relax and enjoy... we're all friends." Then he added, "Lay face up so I can massage your front." In my initial turning action, my halter top had fallen away from my breasts, exposing them to both guys.
Now I had noticed many times in the past that Evan had spent time ogling my tits... seemingly appreciating my full, round "C" boobs when they were a bit exposed by open blouses, etc. But, he had never seen them in the raw before. Since I was comfortable with Evan, I just lay back on the floor (boobs exposed) and said, "Evan... do you like them?" "Gawd yes," he replied with enthusiasm.
I closed my eyes and the guys continued massaging their assigned part of my body, but Evan managed to stay clear of the top of my crotch.
Soon my hubby moved over next to me and began to kiss and fondle my closest breast. I noticed that his towel had fallen away, exposing an obviously aroused cock. "Do you think you should be doing that?" I whispered to him. "Sure," he replied. Then he looked up at Evan and said, "You know Nan has two of these. You are welcome to enjoy her other one." I was a bit shocked... but I did not act to object when Evan moved to my other side, said, "Thanks, I think I will," and began to lick and suck my other breast.
"You guys are bad," I said. They did not respond, they just kept sucking and licking. It felt good. Soon my body was responding to the dual-stimulation, and I squirmed a bit as I experienced an orgasm. "Wow! I think she likes having both of her breasts serviced at once," John announced. Then I felt my hubby's hand working its way up under my skirt. He pushed my thong aside and began fingering my clit and pussy as he kissed my tummy.
Evan had moved away from my breast when it was clear I had just had an orgasm, "To give you a chance to recover," he told me later. He started to stroke my hair and tell me how beautiful I was... and how lucky John was to have me. About that time my hubby raised my skirt and placed his mouth directly on my pussy. I jumped. "Relax," Evan said, "I think he is just trying to give you another orgasm to enjoy.
Well, the long and the short of it was that all three of us ended up nude on the floor, playing a little "grab ass" between beers... and soon they took turns screwing me. What an amazing afternoon.
That first time of three-way shared sex was eight years ago. Since then, I have given birth to two children (yes, John is definitely the father!!), and we have continued to live just as we did before... as a typical suburban couple. I work part-time as a receptionist in a real estate office (mom takes care of our kids on those work days), and John continues his business as a home-construction contractor. John and I are both 29 now.
Since that day with Evan, our times when the three of us got together often ended with Evan and John playing with me in the nude. Often, Evan would spend the night, all three of us sleeping together in our king-size bed. While I was alone I would often think about where our less-than-conventional friendship had gone. While I would sometimes feel a bit embarrassed, I also had to admit to myself that I really enjoyed each of the times all three of us were intimate together. To my joy, John has NEVER shown any signs of jealousy.
I can't count how many times John has invited Evan to join him in making love to me. Lots. I have enjoyed all the various ways they have pleased me, and I have pleased them. By the way, both John and Evan are "men's men." There is not a gay streak in either of them. However, over time they have become quite comfortable with limited sex play between them... but only when I am the center of our play.
One day John grasped Evan's cock and stroked it as Evan was trying to enter my pussy. John got Evan harder, pulled him up against my pussy opening and said, "Go for it buddy," as he used one hand to press Evan's buns tight against me, and used his other hand to play with Evan's nut sack. I could not believe how quickly Evan shot a big load into me that time.
Eventually, Evan did similar things for John. Then, one night I was sucking on Evan's soft cock (trying to get him ready to enter me a third time) when John pushed me aside and said, "You lick and kiss his body all the way up to his lips... and I will get him ready." I watched for a moment as my dear husband took Evan's cock deep in his mouth and sucked... as he played with Evan's nuts. I took John's suggestion and kissed my way up to Evan's mouth, before engaging him in a passionate French kiss. It did not take long before Evan broke the kiss and said, "I think little dicky is ready to dive deep into your pussy again."
That night my hubby explained to me that he had been thinking about it before. He said, "Since I always enjoy having you suck my cock, and enjoy watching you suck Evan's cock... and I enjoy sucking your pussy... why should it be repulsive for me to offer those pleasures to my friend?" That made sense to me. I later told Evan what John had said. It was not long before Evan began doing the same for John. That opened all kinds of possibilities. I would suck Evan, Evan would suck my hubby's cock, and John would use his tongue to please my pussy... sort of a daisy-chain.Other times my hubby would screw my pussy from behind as Evan licked, sucked, and ate my pussy as John's hard cock slid by his mouth.
Anyway, Evan eventually took a job in another city and would just occasionally visit us. We always had great fun during those visits. However, for some time, they were infrequent enough that John ended up doing a little advertising and recruited a few other guys to join us in 3-some play. I enjoyed those times too, but our times with Evan were always special. A few times Evan would have a girlfriend who was open to "swinging." He would bring them to give John some "new pussy" to play with as he (Evan) played with me.
Then came "the bitch." We saw her socially a few times, but never did like her. She was finally out of Evan's life, and we wanted to celebrate.
When we got to St. Martin, we rented a car and drove to the French side of the island (this island is half French and half Dutch). Our condo was nice. It had a bedroom with a king-size bed, a living room with a couch that made up into a bed, a small kitchenette, and a private balcony. The guys decided they would be in charge of breakfasts, which we would enjoy each day on our private balcony, looking out over the ocean. Some days Evan would drive to a nearby French bakery and buy some just-baked French bread, rolls, and pastries to have with cut-up fruit and eggs for our breakfasts. What a life! We usually didn't even get dressed for breakfast, just towels around us.
Each day after breakfast, we would bundle up some fresh French bread, butter, cheese, lunch meat, and a few bottles of wine to take with us to a beach. Each day was a different beach. They have LOTS of beautiful beaches at St. Martin. Many were quite secluded (few others around), and most had at least some topless bathers (the guys liked that). Then we found Orient Beach. Part of it is for nude bathing. We took advantage of it. We often did the same at secluded beaches. Naturally, there was a lot of "grab ass" and other play between the three of us while we romped nude on the beaches and then played on our blanket on the beach.
For me, the evenings and nights were THE BEST! Each evening we would get dressed up and hit a different restaurant - French, seafood, Caribbean, you name it. I felt like a queen, being escorted by my two men. I had a chiffon skirt and blouse that I wore a few nights. The guys convinced me to leave my panties back at the condo. What sensations, having the warm light breeze blow up around my legs under the soft skirt, and having a handsome man on each of my arms as we strolled in and out of restaurants and along the beach.
One bar (on the Dutch side) was located right next to the airport. It was right where the planes touched down on the runway. Patrons could wave at the passengers, and they would wave back. Naturally, it was loud there, but we had fun toasting the new arrivals to St. Martin. Right behind that place was another bar that featured overstuffed chairs and couches on their outdoor bar/deck. We selected a couch, and John and Evan sat on either side of me with the table just covering our laps. I got a kick out of unzipping both guys' pants and playing with their cocks as the waitress took our order. Of course, the guys got me back. After the waitress had brought our drinks, their hands were quickly under my skirt, and at one point, they unbuttoned my blouse and each took one of my breasts in their mouth. Fortunately, it was pretty dark by that time, but I think I saw a couple of waitresses watching us from the side.
We hit several nightclubs at St. Martin that week too. Again, it felt great being squired into nightclubs on the arms of my two fellow travelers. The guys took turns dancing with me, and at one point, two of the other female patrons grabbed John and Evan and took them to the dance floor as the MC danced with me. My hubby told me later that both he and Evan managed to "cop some good feels" while dancing with their attractive dance mates. However, it was me who benefited from their horniness when we got back to the condo that night.
Ah yes, the nights. We always slept with the balcony doors open to let in the moonlight and the warm breezes. Each night we each took an end-of-the-day shower and all crawled into the king-size bed together. I loved it when my hubby would cuddle my bare body next to his, neck with me, and Evan would cuddle up behind me, with his hard cock pressing between my legs and probing my pussy. Sometimes we did it the other way around. Sometimes the cock within me would stroke slowly for many minutes with no attempt to reach a climax.
Laying nude on the crisp sheets of the condo there in tropical paradise, with Evan curled against my back, connected to me with his cock lazily stroking within my pussy, and me sucking on my hubby's cock as he stroked my hair, what an enjoyable experience.
I have always enjoyed using my mouth to give pleasure to John, since long before Evan came into our shared love life. I love the feel of his cock sliding over my lips and my tongue playing with his maleness. I love the feel as his cock enlarges and stiffens within my mouth. No, I can't "deep throat" him, but even when he is stiff, I can keep most of him in my mouth.
Unlike many women I read about, I find it especially pleasurable when my oral ministrations can elicit a load of his ejaculate. I like to watch his eyes as he reaches his peak and explodes. I enjoy momentarily savoring the taste of his masculine juices before I swallow it as he watches.
I have found it interesting that John's (and Evan's) ejaculate can change in flavor, depending upon if they have been smoking a lot or if they have changed their diet of foods. But, I have never found their juices to be distasteful, just as I hope they don't ever find mine to be distasteful.
That setting, with John in my mouth, him fondling my hair, me playing with his balls, and Evan buried within my loins, always gives me a unique sense of my own femininity. I feel that my feminine body is simultaneously giving pleasure to two guys while at the same time I am enjoying my own distinctly feminine arousals. Crazy maybe, but for me, that is a high point in enjoying being a woman.
On at least three nights, we ended up with me being totally "sandwiched." Sometimes I would have John stroking in and out of my pussy, and Evan (from my other side) would introduce his cock to the inside of my pussy, to join my hubby in their combined quest to "double my pleasure." That ALWAYS felt extra good, all of their combined girth stretching the walls of my pussy, and the extra heat of their motion within me. A couple of other times, John used his cock to fill my back door, then rolled me on top of himself, and invited Evan to give my pussy a good pounding. Wow, was that intense and pleasurable!
After we had each cum a couple of times, we would each shower again before returning to our shared bed. After my `rejuvenation shower,' I would feel ready to go again and often found the guys laying on their backs, next to each other, still "drained" from our earlier activities. In those cases, I would take turns sucking and jacking them back to life. Whichever one came alive first, I straddled and rode, as I necked with the other one.
On some nights, we all just collapsed on the bed (me in the middle) and died for the night. On other nights, Evan or John would "peter out" (if you will excuse the expression) and go to sleep on the living room sleeper, and I continued to play with the other one. Of course, when morning came, I generally had both guys fingering my pussy and kissing my breasts. I typically jumped up and showered (so I would be fresh for them) before returning to the bed for a start-of-the-day shared romp in the bed.
That week at St. Martin (Spring of 2006) was one I will never forget. I felt like a queen all week! Yes, I was a bit sore by the end of the week (I think the guys were too), but that went away soon after we returned home. A week on a Caribbean Island, lots of secluded beaches, and two tender, respectful guys to please my every sexual whim - that's Paradise! I recommend it for any woman.
Evan still lives some distance away from us, but we expect to continue seeing him whenever his schedule allows. No doubt Evan will marry someday, but for now, he (and we) enjoy his periodic availability to share intimate good times together. He already plans to join us in August for a weekend getaway. I am looking forward to that, but our week at St. Martin will always have a favored place in my memory.
Ladies, if you ever have a chance to spend a similar week with two sensuous guys, don't let the opportunity pass. And, if you are yet to open yourself to MFM fun, shame on you. Until you do, you will never know the extent of your feminine pleasure potential.
From one happy Nan! | null | null | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/3-000 MFM STORIES BY HER/3-023-Nan.txt |
102,037 | Beverly from Michigan | She Expanded the Horizon of Her Feminine Pleasure Potential | You have been so kind, sharing your advice and stories over the past two years, I thought I would bring you up to date on my life.
Like so many other husbands that I have read about, for the past several years my husband has enjoyed engaging in wild fantasy talk while we make love. Surprise, surprise! During those pillow-talk sessions, he often mentioned that he would love to have another guy screw me while he watched and/or participated.
Well, for years I just tolerated his talk as something men had to do to get turned-on. Then, over the years he brought home X-rated videos and various magazines that featured three people having sex together. I finally started reading many of the letters about threesomes in Penthouse, Forum, etc., and wondered if the writers were really telling true stories... or was it all just titillating fiction.
About two years ago I stumbled onto one of the stories you had posted on the Internet, and your listing of available personal experience stories... about women who had allowed themselves to experience MFM threesome sex. As you know, I started corresponding with you via e-mail, and you began sharing many of your stories with me. At first, I still thought some of the stories that purported to be "true experiences," were really just fiction.
However, the more I read, I began to sense that most of the stories you were sending did read as being reasonable representations of what other real couples were doing to add spice to their shared sex lives. After much thought and re-evaluation of some of my long-held value systems, I decided that maybe recreational sex between me, my husband and others was not such a wicked or far-out thing to do.
Believe me, reaching that conclusion was no small feat for a woman of my upbringing! I had been taught that sex was something ONLY done with one's married partner... and preferably just for the purpose of making babies. Recreational sex was an oxymoron not unlike `military intelligence.'
I guess one of the things that helped me overcome my earlier inhibitions was the recognition that I had already rejected the notion that ALL sex outside of marriage was sin (my husband and I enjoyed some great sex before we got married)... and that any form of contraception was sinful. Clearly my husband and I enjoyed considerable sexual pleasure that was not intended to result in additional children.
Sexual affairs are still totally out of the question for me, because they seem to require violation of a trust and openness that I hold dear in my marriage. However, I concluded, if my husband and I could genuinely come to terms with the notion of each other having intimate relations with others just for the sake of shared sexual fun, then MAYBE such things as MFM and FMF experiences could be possible for us.
One night after I had mentally wrestled with my growing sexual interests, and my husband's continued pillow-talk about inviting others to share in our bedroom fun, I finally decided to talk with my husband and let him know that I MAY finally be open to trying some new things with him.
For the first time I told him about the many stories you had shared with me, and the candid advice you had shared via e-mail. As you might guess, my dear husband was elated! Over the next several nights, we even read several of your stories together (I have saved everything you have sent on a special file in my computer).
I told my husband that of all the things I read that you had sent, the story by Sandy and Jim (3-103-SANDY) and the one by Ken and Sue (3-102-SUE).... were the most persuasive to me that three-way fun was not perverse. Then your A03-WHY helped me understand a bit more about why my husband might want to have me experience another man or men.
Lucinda's story (3-105-LUCINDA), and Annette's story (3-107-ANNETTE) gave me insight on the fun and special joy other husbands and wives were sharing as they opened themselves to the sensual potentials of this kind of recreational sex. Frankly, the letters written by women had a bigger impact on me than most of the ones written by the men. Some of the things that some of your writers have ventured into are not likely to ever appeal to me. But other writers gave me some great new ideas.
Over the following weeks my husband and I talked about some of the issues... or potential fears... that I would guess other women have considered too (fears about Jealousy, Prudity, Nudity and Confidence About My Body, etc.). During that time my husband and I enjoyed some really great sex together as we talked about actually giving threesome sex a try.
JEALOUSY: During that time, my husband and I talked a lot about the possibility of jealousy coming up between us if one of us saw the other receiving or giving sexual attention (that could be construed as loving attention) to another person.
My husband assured me that if he were allowed to see me enjoying recreational sex with another guy... rather than him having a jealous reaction, he would regard it as a special extension of our loving relationship THAT HE WOULD BE GIVING ME... and I would be allowing him to share with me. But, he said, if he ever did experience any form of jealousy, he promised to immediately tell me.
On the other hand, I was less confident that jealousy would not result, if I saw him having sex with another woman. I wanted to say that I would not be jealous, but in all honesty, I could not be sure that my `womanly instincts' would not kick in.
To avoid dealing with my possible jealous reactions, we decided that (at least early on) we would not invite another woman to our bed. My husband assured me that his preference was for MFM experiences anyway.
PRUDITY: As mentioned above, I had already had to deal with my own potential 'prudeness' issues... sex outside of marriage... sex for other than procreation, etc. My husband and I had already developed a great `taste' for oral sex... both giving and receiving. We both love it. No prudity there. However, I felt that anal sex for me was clearly out. It is not so much a prudity issue as it is a pain issue. The few times we have tried it, it had hurt... lots! So, at this point, prudity was not a big issue to us.
NUDITY: I would think that the thought of appearing nude in front of a man other than one's husband might be a big road block to some women who have considered trying MFM fun. I know the thought went through my mind.
Fortunately, I have always had a positive self-image. My body is far from perfect (remember, I have had three kids... and I have a few stretch marks, etc.), but I thoroughly enjoy being a woman... a being `designed' to attract and stimulate male attention and desire. I take great pride in knowing that my husband and other guys seem to find me attractive.
Even around the house, I try to dress in as feminine a manner as possible. I avoid frumpy old clothes except when serious cleaning or remodeling work requires it. When I go out... even to the grocery store... I make sure my appearance is clean, neat and tasteful. I get my share of favorable `looks' and eye contact from both men and women... even though my looks are really quite average.
On the beach I often wear skimpy swim wear... particularly when we are away from our community. I admit it, I enjoy showing off my female body! But, I am not generally an exhibitionist either.
An exception was two occasions when my husband and I visited a nudist club. Once was several years ago (a year after we were married), and the second time was about three years ago. These were NOT sexual experiences. Just volleyball, swimming, socializing and dining... all in the nude. At first I was self-conscious... but that soon went away. I think these two experiences helped me avoid a fear of being nude in front a of new guy.
The truth is, I totally enjoy being a FEMALE female. My guess is that to the extent a woman enjoys her femininity and finds pleasure in exploring its potential... to that extent she will have less barriers to trying MFM fun.
As we found ourselves moving closer to really trying an MFM experience, we decided to set down some rules between ourselves.
The Rules We Adopted -
First, we agreed that if we started by having another man join us, we would follow that sometime in the future by inviting a woman to join us. I have to admit that this was my suggestion, albeit a hesitant suggestion. I wasn't as confident as my husband seemed to be that jealousy need not get involved. And, I had no interest in sexual interaction with another woman. But then, my husband really had no interest in overt sexual contact with another guy either. It just seemed fair. If I was going to experience "doubled attention," then he should too.
Second, we agreed that we would restrict sexual contact with others to times when we could both be present... no outside "affairs"... and not what one would call an "open marriage." We wanted this to ALWAYS be a sharing thing.Neither was to ever be left out.
Third, we would jointly decide how extra partners would be selected and "screened." While we might not be together in person while the other made arrangements with a prospective guest to our love life, we would agree on guidelines for selection.
Fourth, we both agreed that total discretion would be critical. Neither of us wanted our family members, existing friends, or co-workers to know of this new aspect of our sexual relationship. Thus, we agreed to use "pen names" and to communicate through email, a post office box, and a private phone line we had installed in the closet of our bedroom. By the way, your J02-HIM file was helpful on these issues.
Fifth, we knew that our new ventures would involve some health risks, but we concluded that they would be minimal if we were picky about who we decided to have join us. So, we decided to stay away from men and women who boasted of "hundreds" of swing or threesome partners (although we decided that it would be helpful if our future partners had some experience prior to joining us neophytes), to avoid having sex with people who gave evidence of poor personal hygiene, had questionable lifestyles (active gay lifestyles, drug use, etc.), skin rashes, or obvious medical problems.
My husband has never enjoyed sex when he had to use condoms. Actually, I experienced less enjoyment at those times too. So, I had my tubes tied after the birth of our third child (3 years ago). While we recognized we stood a slightly increased health risk, we decided that condom-free sex would be acceptable for any males we invited to join us. Besides, a big part of my pleasure comes from feeling that gush of male juices against my inner pussy walls... and we sure didn't need to worry about me getting pregnant.
We decided to deal with the condom issue on a case-by-case basis relative to any women who joined us. My husband agreed to honor the wishes of such women. Also, we agreed that if I, or any other woman, ever said "No" to something, we would honor that wish without any questions or cajoling. "No" was ALWAYS to mean NO!
Sixth, we decided to avoid inviting any of these "extra partners" to our home. Our income level allowed us the luxury of hiring child care when we wanted to "go out," and paying for a decent hotel/motel room as a place to play.
Seventh, my husband agreed to insist to any male "extra partner" that they should not try to have anal sex with me. Contrary to what several of your writers have written, the only anal sex I had experienced to this point was accompanied by substantial discomfort and/or pain. I just didn't enjoy it. I had occasionally allowed my husband that luxury, but I didn't want any other guy to try to take me that way.
Our eighth and final rule was that we would ALWAYS honor each other's wishes having to do with stopping a given activity, asking an "extra partner" to leave, taking periodic breaks from our ventures, or totally terminating our ventures into extra partner sex. Oh yes, and as part of this, we agreed to always watch out for the other's well-being (avoiding rough stuff, getting rid of drunk or disrespectful people, etc.).
Planning Our First Threesome -
As you can see, once we decided to give threesomes a try, we spent a lot of time together thinking through all the ramifications. We wanted our future adventure to be characterized by heightened sexual pleasures and shared fun... not problems.
By this point... some two months after deciding we would give MFM a try... I was actually getting excited by the prospect of what we were going to try. I am not one to masturbate, but I would occasionally find myself in the shower using the hand-held spray to stimulate my clit... or stroke myself to pleasant levels of sexual tension as I lay in bed in the morning, waiting for my husband to awaken.
During our weeks of planning, my husband and I found ourselves enjoying some really intense sexual pleasures with each other. We would almost always fantasize about another guy being with us. When my husband would cuddle up behind me (with me on my side) and enter me from behind, he would whisper into my ear that he was "Sam," or "George," or "Bill," entering me for the first time. He would tell me how great it was to be inside my pussy... how warm it felt. Meanwhile, I would let my mind wander, wishing my husband was laying in front of me so I could neck with him and cuddle with him while this "other guy" was screwing me from behind.
I found myself treating my husband to oral sex more often. I would bring his cock to my lips, kiss it, study it and fondle his balls while wondering how the masculine "equipment" of other guys might be different. I was beginning to really look forward to having us actually invite another guy to join us in our play.
I will have to admit that I had second thoughts during this period. "What would my parents or sisters think if they knew what we were planning to do? What would our friends at church, or neighbors think? Was I kidding myself... were we really venturing into a strange perversion?" You may remember that I wrote to you for advice during that time. Your assurances were helpful. Now that I have had some VERY PLEASANT threesome experiences, I KNOW that you were right to put such worries behind me.
Info About Us -
By the way, I guess I should give the obligatory physical descriptions of me and my husband. I am blond, usually keep my weight at about 130, stand 5'3" in my stocking feet, and have a decent shape (36C, not too hippy, and a typical waist for a woman of 31 with 3 kids). My husband has dark brown hair, a fair amount of body hair (great hairy chest!), has been staying at about 175 lbs the last several years, stands 5'9, and takes care of his body (only a very modest "pot" at his belly, is fairly athletic). As I write this letter (November, 1999), I am 31 and my husband is 34. We have now been married 11 years.
As I have told you, my husband travels a lot in his work. He is a technical service rep for a large electronics firm. While we live in Michigan, his work often takes him to Chicago and to various cities along the east coast. I do part-time sales work that allows me to set my own schedule and be flexible on if/when I work.
I had already occasionally accompanied my husband on some of his shorter business trips to allow us time together alone, and to give us some mini-vacations. We decided that, at least at first, we should attempt to make our "extra partner" contacts in cities where my husband regularly traveled.
We knew he would be having a two-week trip to Chicago, followed a few weeks later by a three-day follow-up trip to the same area. That gave us an idea. We would use some of the advertising ideas you suggested in your A02-HIM file, and further discussed in your story 3-301-SAM, to try to locate potential males in the Chicago area for our first MFM. Then my husband could meet with the better "prospects" during his two-week stay, in the hopes of finding a guy we could both meet when I joined him on his later three-day trip.
We had gotten a PO box, and had subscribed to an Internet Service under an anonymous name, so we placed a couple ads in Chicago area adult publications my husband had found on an earlier trip. We even posted an ad on the "Alt.Sex Wanted" portion of the Internet. I could not believe all the email notes and letters we received.
Many of the guys wanted pictures of us... well, really, pictures of me. At first I said "No!" But then my husband got a Polaroid camera and demonstrated that he could take some sexy pictures of me that in no way revealed my face or identity. One Saturday night I agreed to let him give it a try, if he assured me that I could destroy any that I did not like, and that I would have control and safekeeping of all the photos until they were sent out.
We had fun that night. He told me to pretend that my first "extra guy" was sitting in a chair in the room, watching as he took increasingly revealing pictures of me. That image in my mind tended to make me really hot! I started by letting him get some shots of me in my favorite lingerie. Then, as I began getting really turned-on, he started snapping a variety of nude shots, some with me playing with myself.
Then I insisted on taking some photos of him... so we would have some for sending to future "extra gal" prospects. He stripped to his jockey shorts and did some crazy poses before he slid the shorts down and let me get some shots of his cock and balls. My husband's erect "endowment" is probably of average size (slightly over 6" long and a 5" circumference... we measured it), and it was absolutely rigid as I snapped several pictures of it. When I finished, we immediately put his cock to good use!
Later we sorted through the pictures and promptly burned the ones that accidentally showed one of our faces or some other identifying detail.
We have a color photocopier in my husband's home office, and we made color photocopy reproductions of some of the best pictures of me. That's not the best quality, but we decided that would have to do. We weren't about to send them out for someone else to make copies. We also scanned a couple of them into our computer to use as attachments for replies to the email messages.
Over the next several days we spent a few hours each night responding to the letters and email messages. That was really an erotic experience too. My husband wrote the basic reply letter that we reproduced (with variations) over and over to the various guys... and I generally added my own, personal PS. Naturally there were many guys to whom we simply wrote, "Thanks, but No Thanks."Before it was time for my husband's two-week trip to Chicago, we had received 11 letters and 3 email messages from Chicago-area guys who all seemed like reasonable "maybes," and who gave my husband ways to reach them while in the Chicago area. The day after he reached Chicago, he began making contacts. Each night he would call me with his reports.
First Actual Meetings With Those Potential "Extra Guys" -
He met with a few of the guys twice, sharing more of my pictures and gaining more information about them. By the end of the two weeks, he had located two guys he was sure I would like, and a third (somewhat older) who might also be a prospect. He had managed to get all three of them to send a photo of themselves back for me to see.
That night... between him being gone for two weeks, and the photos, and all the interesting stories he had to tell... we fell into bed and made mad passionate love for over an hour. I had a roaring-good climax, and he shot a big load inside of me just after I reached my own peak of pleasure.
We made arrangements for someone to stay with the kids for the days we would be gone, and we were almost giddy as we waited for the day to arrive to fly to Chicago. My husband had phoned all three of the guys to make arrangements to individually have drinks with them, so I could meet them personally... on a no-commitment-basis. I listened in on the extension phone, so I could hear their voices.
We arrived early on a Thursday afternoon, so we could schedule three different times/places for meeting with the three guys all on our first day. We met the first guy right at O'Hare Airport. He had a membership at one of the airlines' VIP Club, so we joined him there at the appointed time. This was the older guy.
We found a back corner and ordered some drinks. He was a gentleman, and quite attractive, but I wasn't feeling totally comfortable. He appeared to be a successful businessman and presented himself in a friendly professional manner, but I just didn't feel drawn to him... and I thought I should be. My husband and I had some pre-arranged signals that enabled me to let him know I was not real enthusiastic about this guy. We cut things short, telling him we had to get to a business meeting, and my husband told him he would give him a call later.
We grabbed a cab for downtown Chicago. During the ride downtown, I was able to verbalize my lack of enthusiasm for this first guy. My husband agreed, and we mentally marked him off. Although my husband did give him a courtesy "No thanks" call the next day.
Our First Threesome -
After we checked in at the hotel, we went down to the bar in the lobby. The second guy, much younger than the first, was waiting for us. He was Martin, an attractive professional guy who let us know right up front that he was married. That was not a problem to me or my husband... maybe a plus. Martin had a winning smile as he talked.
After about 30 minutes of very amiable conversation, my husband suggested that we all take a dip in the hotel pool. Martin told us he didn't have a suit... but my husband promptly told him that he had brought an extra suit... for just such a situation. Martin eagerly accepted.
We all went back up to our hotel room and changed into the swimwear. Both Martin and my husband gave me a little 'grab-ass' attention, but neither of them tried to get anything started at that time. We headed for the pool.
The time we spent in the pool and whirlpool gave us additional opportunity to get to know each other. It seems that over the past few years, Martin had been invited by two other couples to share some threesome experiences with them on a number of occasions. So, Martin was totally at ease with the things two guys and one gal could do together in bed. I began to get turned-on!
Soon we headed back to our room. On the way up in the elevator, I let my husband know of my state of arousal by discretely placing my hand on his swimsuit and grasping his hard-on. As soon as the hotel room door was closed behind us, my husband suggested, "Honey, why don't you help Martin get out of that wet swimsuit." Martin was smiling again... and with a gleam in my eye, I bent over and yanked his suit to the floor.
Martin's beautiful cock sprung out... hard and ready! He promptly untied the two side ties on my bikini bottom and let it fall to the floor. I continued to stand there, somewhat unsure what to do next, and I felt my husband untying the string that kept my top in place. My husband whisked it away and planted a kiss on my nearest breast.
Meanwhile, Martin had gotten on his knees in front of me, and was beginning to bury his face in my crotch. I was glad we had just come from the pool, and I was reasonably 'fresh.' Still standing there, I spread my legs a bit... while studying my husband's face for any possible signs of disapproval. There were none... just a big grin. Martin put his hands on my bare buns and drew me tighter against his face. I felt his tongue begin to explore my upper thighs and clit. Then it hit! I felt his tongue press between my pussy lips... and up inside me.
My legs almost gave out as shudders of pleasure coursed through my body. Soon we were all three on the king-sized bed, and my husband had left his wet suit on the floor too. I just closed my eyes and basked in the numerous sensations of pleasure that flowed through me as the guys kissed and caressed my nude body.
That must have gone on for at least 15 minutes. Eventually I reached out and took each of their hard cocks in each of my hands... stroking them as they kissed and played with me. Martin's cock was about the size and thickness of my husband's, but it felt veinier.
Martin stood up and gently grabbed hold of my legs, drawing me toward the foot of the bed. My husband rearranged himself on the bed next to me, and smiled at me just before saying, "Babe, this is it! You are about to feel the cock of another man up inside you!" Then he kissed me as Martin lifted my legs over his shoulders on either side of his head.
My husband lifted himself up slightly by my side, and watched as Martin placed the head of his hard cock between my spread legs, and against my pussy. I lifted my head and watched too... just as Martin began to press himself into my very wet pussy. A quiver of pleasure passed through my body as I realized that the cock of a guy other than my husband was beginning to explore the inner walls of my wet, hot pussy!
Martin slowly pressed his way in as I laid back and closed my eyes. I guess I was already responding to him by thrusting my hips up against his invading tool. I felt my husband lean back over me and take one of my nipples into his mouth as Martin's cock reached the bottom of my pussy channel. Martin just held himself deep inside me for a minute or two before saying, "God you feel good inside!"
With my eyes now wide open, looking directly up at Martin over my husband's head, I studied the obvious pleasure on Martin's face. "I'm going to fuck you at least twice this afternoon," Martin told me. "Later I will want to lay next to you with my cock slowly moving inside your velvety folds for a long period of time. But this first time I am going to fuck you hard and fast... to unload the pent-up contents of my over-stimulated balls."
Having heard that pronouncement, my husband rolled to my side and leaned on an elbow as Martin began his cock's withdrawal and assault on my grasping pussy. He wasn't kidding. This first time was a vigorous, pounding 'fuck' that caused my body to twist and thrust back at him as his thrusts grew more and more insistent.
My head suddenly twisted toward my husband. "Oh baby... it feels so good!" I told him. He told me later that my body tensed up with each of Martin's deep drives, and my face contorted in obvious pleasure. "I'm going to cum... already. Martin... your cock is making me feel wonderful!" I heard myself saying.
Moments later I felt my body convulse in an orgasm that nearly caused me to black out... it felt so good. I know my pussy must have contracted tightly around Martin's cock, but he kept on pounding in and out of it. Another wave of pleasure washed through me as I felt Martin pick up speed... and felt his cock engorge with pre-explosion tension. Then he jammed his cock very deep inside me and held himself there while his nuts quickly emptied themselves of their hot liquid. My pussy felt extraordinarily hot... and I felt Martin's juice spray against the walls of my cervix and ooze out around his softening cock.
As Martin fully pulled out and laid my legs on the bed, my husband wrapped me in his arms and gave me a deep tongue kiss... drawing me tightly against him. Moments later I was laying on my back, and the two guys had again positioned me up on the middle of the bed, and were cuddling me from both sides.
Each had one of my nipples in their mouth as my mind began to regain its senses. 'Wow! That had been wonderful,' I thought to myself. I put my arms around the shoulders of the two guys and drew them tightly against me as they sucked and licked my nipples. 'My first MFM!' I thought. I had to admit to myself that it had been a really good experience!
After a few minutes my husband rolled me toward Martin, and he was busily working behind me, working his very hard cock between my wet thighs and into my hot pussy. Martin took advantage of the fact that I was facing him, and began to give my face and lips a series of gentle kisses... as my husband began to pump in and out of me from behind.
It didn't take my husband long before he too exploded within me. He later told me that the slippery feel of another man's juices covering his cock was a super turn-on as he drove in and out of me.That's why he could not hold back on his climax.
The three of us rested for some time after that, talking about what we had all just done. I thanked them both for the pleasure they had given me. During our talk, I stroked and played with both of their cocks... and I felt Martin's quickly harden again in my hand. Eventually, I turned onto my side again, this time facing my husband. Martin guided his cock into me again, this time from behind, as my husband had done.
This time it was different. We all casually talked as Martin slowly stroked in and out of me. At one point, I took my husband's hand and held it over my mons so he could feel Martin moving inside of me. My husband just grinned and kissed my tummy as he felt Martin's slow in-out motion within me.
True to his word, this 'fuck' was a long, slow one. Sometimes he would just pause while buried deep inside me... with his crotch pressed tightly against my buns. It was a gentle, respectful 'fuck.' Two or three times I felt my body tremble as mini-orgasms passed through me, while my pussy contracted around his velvety tool.
All this time, my husband and I cuddled and necked, whispering our love for each other, as Martin's warm cock just kept up its protracted exploration of my inner parts. When my mini-orgasms washed through me, my husband kissed my eyelids and held me tight... then relaxed his arms as Martin resumed his pleasant probing.
At one point, my husband reached down and began playing with my clit as Martin continued to pleasure me. The doubled attention sent me over the edge a couple more times, with minimal pauses by the guys after each orgasm. Meanwhile, both guys fondled my breasts, kissed my shoulders, held me gently, and told me how sexy they both thought I was. Who was I to question their judgment. All that intimate touching, coupled by the constant feel of Martin's cock inside me, and the sexy talk, made me feel extra feminine.
It felt weird... but nice... being "sandwiched" between these two attentive men. Often my crotch was pressed tightly against my husband's as Martin pressed tightly against me from behind. This gentle coupling must have lasted the better part of an hour before Martin started to increase the speed of his thrusts, and he finally filled me again. This time my own orgasm was a bit more restrained. I think that by this time I was basically drained.
Martin had to get home to his wife, but promised to visit us again Saturday afternoon before we left town. When he left, my husband and I spent a half hour cuddling in the bed we had shared with Martin... talking about what we had just done. I wanted to make sure my husband was not experiencing some form of jealousy... and he wanted to be sure I had enjoyed what we had done with Martin. We confirmed to each other that the experience with Martin had been a "really special" first threesome that was enjoyable by all of us.
We then showered, and went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. After dinner, we drove to another nearby hotel where my husband had made plans to meet the third guy... Tony.
Tony proved to be a tall, handsome, nattily-dressed gentleman. He was a surgeon in a local hospital, and, again, married. His medical schedule gave him some flexibility to be away from home without generating undue questions. Tony had only been with one other couple as 'the extra guy.' But, he said it had been a mutually-satisfying relationship that went on for nearly four years until the couple moved to California a few months back.
Tony even had a picture of he and the couple (all clothed), along with a note from the lady. It said something to the effect, "If you include Tony into your life in the way we have, you will be VERY pleased. I can personally attest to the satisfaction and pleasure he can provide a willing couple/woman."
We were impressed that he carried such a letter of introduction... and testimonial.
The lounge had a dance combo that played some great dancing music. Soon Tony invited me to dance, and my husband encouraged me to join him on the dance floor.
During the late afternoon and early evening, my husband and Martin had already treated me to unusually high levels of sensual fulfillment, so my libido was definitely sated. However, out there on the dance floor, Tony's body began to arouse new tinglings between my legs. I could tell Tony's trousers held some sizable contents... and I was again getting curious.
After a few more dances, and conversations back at the table, it was agreed that Tony would join us at our room the next afternoon (Friday). My husband and I bid him farewell, and we went back to our hotel room to cuddle and talk about the day's activities before we enjoyed one more good screw, and fell asleep.
Friday morning, my husband left to handle his business appointments, while I leisurely rested and took another swim. As I relaxed next to the pool, my mind wandered back to the previous afternoon we had spent with Martin. Delicious memories were still fresh in my mind. The wonderful feelings I had experienced as a new man's tongue and lips explored my pussy... the sensations of having a cock other than my husband's, parting my pussy lips and pressing deep into me.
The look of pleasure on Martin's face as he held himself firmly inside me... before that first ravenous 'fuck'. The intense orgasm I had felt as this new cock pounded in and out of my body... and the follow-up shivers of pleasure that preceded Martin's eruption within me. Then, the prolonged second round of sensual pleasures he had given me as my husband held me in his arms.
I must have had a smile on my face as I lay by the pool with my eyes closed... recounting the good experiences I had enjoyed thanks to my husband and Martin. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice wake me from my thoughts, "That smile must mean that you have some good memories." It was my husband. He had returned to take me to lunch. After lunch, we returned to our room where I freshened up as we awaited Tony's visit.
Our Second MFM Experience -
This time, I was dressed only in a lacy semi-see-through dressing gown when Tony arrived. He whistled as he closed the hotel door behind him. I could see a bulge form in his trousers... like it had done the night before... as he greeted my husband. This time, my husband said, "Just pretend I am not here, and you guys get acquainted."
Tony took that as his clue. He took me into his arms and planted a big kiss on my lips as his hands began to massage my back. I could not wait to see what Tony was hiding in his trousers. So, as he held me in his arms, my hands began to undo his belt. His trousers fell to the floor, and I reached down into his undershorts. He felt big... and hard!
Feeling what I was doing, Tony stripped away my dressing gown and stepped back to survey my nude body. He whistled his approval again. That made me feel good. All this time, my husband just sat in an easy chair in the corner, watching us get acquainted.
I was curious about the large and hard cock I had just felt, so I knelt in front of Tony and stripped his shorts to his ankles. I could not believe it! Tony's bone-hard cock sprang out and nearly hit me in the face. It was huge! I mean it was both long and fat! I started to wrap my two hands around it to study it more closely. I noticed that my husband even leaned forward to get a better look.
Tony quickly stripped off his shirt, shoes, socks and the shorts that were around his ankles. Then he lifted me up and laid me across the bed, leaving my legs hanging off the sides. He quickly knelt next to the bed and spread my legs. He began kissing my legs, tummy, thighs and pussy... while my husband stripped, and moved over onto the bed next to me.
My husband kissed me gently and then whispered, "Do you think you can handle that big thing?" I just kissed him back and whispered, "I sure would like to try." For the next several minutes, my husband and I necked while Tony continued to feast on my pussy... licking, kissing, and stabbing his tongue into me. I felt my pussy begin to drool with juices of anticipation.
When I was real wet, Tony asked me to stand up and face him. My husband just lay back on the bed and watched. Tony bent forward, took me into his arms, and lifted me up. My breasts were smashed against his big hairy chest as he kissed me... and my feet were actually a foot or so above the floor while he held me. It was a long kiss, with Tony's tongue probing deep into my mouth.
I felt him reach behind one of my legs and bring it up around his waist. I got the picture, and I bought my other leg up and around the other side of his waist. He was facing the bed, so my husband told me later that he could see Tony's big cock between my legs. Then I felt Tony reach around under my buns to grab his own erection... which he aimed upward toward my pussy. His arm which was holding me relaxed slightly, letting my crotch slide down slightly, and I felt his cock head come in contact with my pussy.
We broke our kiss as I happily realized what Tony was doing. I let myself slip down a bit more, and I felt his cock press against my very wet pussy lips... and then slightly inside. With just a bit of his thick cock within me, I clung to him and held that position for a moment or two. I saw in the mirror that my husband was watching as Tony's cock was part-way inside me.
"Are you OK?" Tony asked me. "Yes," I responded, "but give me a moment or two to adjust to your size."
By now both of Tony's hands were cupped under my buns, holding me against him, without allowing me to drop any lower. Thus, I was able to relax a bit. I turned a bit toward my husband and said, "Are you OK with all of this?"Absolutely," he responded, "as long as you are enjoying yourself."
About that time, Tony allowed me to settle down a bit more onto his cock, putting a substantial part of himself inside me. I gulped a bit, feeling quite filled-up, and realizing how much of him I had inside me. Then he used his cupped hands on my buns to gently lift and lower me so that I was sliding up and down his thick rigid pole. My pussy felt so full! My husband told me later that with each drop down, Tony was letting more and more of his cock enter me... until he was totally buried within my body on each down stroke.
Gosh, I felt full... and the feelings were good! My body trembled against Tony's chest. I even experienced a couple of orgasms during those thrusts toward completely engulfing his large manhood. When he was finally fully within me, and my body had recovered from its orgasmic trembling, Tony just held me like that for a few moments, flashed a broad grin at me, and kissed my neck.
Then, with me still in his arms (unable to touch the floor), and him still buried within me, he walked us over to the edge of the bed. He turned around and sat down, leaving me in his lap, asking me to spread my legs from behind him. Then he laid back... with his cock still buried inside me! At this point, my husband got up and stood next to me, wrapping his arms around my upper body, and drawing close against me to give me a kiss.
"This is really wild," I whispered to my husband. "Ride him, baby," he told me. "He's giving you the opportunity to be fully in control, and to enjoy his cock at the pace you want."
I realized that this is exactly what Tony was doing. By this time, I was resting on my knees on either side of Tony's body. I leaned over, put my hands on Tony's furry chest, and began slowly pumping my pussy up and down on his large cock. I noticed the two guys wink at each other as my husband again lay back on the bed adjacent to Tony. The two guys seemed to be studying my face and smiling as I began to get into `fucking myself' on Tony's big stick.
I enjoyed another two or three delightful orgasms while I was in control in this manner. Then Tony asked if he could take me doggy-style. Hesitantly, I agreed, and I lay on the bed between my husband's outstretched legs, with my ass in the air near the edge of the bed. While I awaited Tony's entry into my body from behind, I wrapped a hand around my husband's hard cock and began to kiss its head. I had to stop when I felt Tony's cock against my pussy. He was gentle though. As my pussy relaxed, he slowly slid in until I had to ask him to go in no further.
Then Tony began a prolonged screwing of my pussy from behind, going only as deep as I had asked. I began sucking my husband and playing with his balls. This three-way play continued for several minutes. Then I felt my husband's crotch twitch, and I knew he was about to shoot. Sure enough. I kept him deep in my mouth while he exploded, with some of his juices flowing out the corners of my mouth while Tony just kept gently pumping my pussy from behind.
'Wow,' I thought, 'I am making two guys happy at the same time.' Then I realized that I was being made happy too. My pussy began to tingle and squeeze around Tony's cock. Now that my husband's cock was no longer in my mouth, I was able to say, "Tony, I think you can put a little more of that thing into me. Give it a try."
He began to lunge more tightly against my backside... until soon I could feel his balls slapping against my upper thighs. The fullness was incredible. My body began to react to Tony's lengthy assault... and I felt a trembling orgasm begin to build within me. I felt myself pressing up against Tony's downward thrusts... to be sure I had all of him inside me. He must have felt my orgasm building too.
He increased his tempo... and I moaned loudly as my body responded to all the stimulation it was receiving. My husband was now holding me tightly against his tummy while stroking my hair and neck. As my pussy contracted around Tony's deep thrusts, it drove him over the edge too. I felt a splash of hot male juices washing over the inner walls of my pussy... and I came again. It was another really intense orgasm that seemed to send wave after wave of tingly sensations throughout my body.
I collapsed onto my tummy against my husband's legs, and Tony pulled away and lay on the bed beside my husband and me. After I had regained my senses, my husband moved over and made room between his body and Tony's. I crawled up between them, gave them both a gentle kiss, and then snuggled in my husband's arms.
The guys pulled the sheet up over all of us, and we just rested together for a half-hour or so... with Tony cuddling against my back, with one hand over my side, cupping one of my breasts.
After a while, Tony began to rub his semi-soft cock along the cleft of my buttocks... until I felt it begin to harden. My husband felt the movement on the bed, and whispered to me that he wanted to see close up this time, as Tony entered me. He pulled the sheet back, slid down with his face near my pussy, and I raised my leg a few inches as an indication to Tony that he could press his renewed cock between my upper thighs.
Tony immediately took the cue. I felt my husband use his two hands to spread my pussy lips to expose my still-wet pussy channel. Tony slowly pressed his crotch against my backside, and I felt the head of his cock come in contact with the epicenter of my pussy. "What a view," I heard my husband say, just as I felt the tip of Tony's cock slide up into me. Then I felt a gentle kiss on my clit. I guess my husband really was close!
I ran my fingers over my husband's hairy back as Tony continued his slow entry deeper within me. It was feeling good again! Then Tony started a series of slow withdrawals (not quite all the way out), and drives back up inside me. My husband told me later that he got a hard-on himself, just watching Tony's cock slowly explore my pussy... coming out each time glistening with my pussy juices. By now I was pressing back against Tony's groin with his each inward thrust. It really felt good!
Soon my husband slid back up next to me... facing me... and planted a long gentle kiss on my lips as he placed his hand on my mons, and felt Tony's action within me. "Feel good, baby?" he asked. I had to admit it. "Yes," I replied, "it feels so good to have Tony's big cock working my pussy from behind while we neck, cuddle and face each other."
By now I was being tightly `sandwiched' between the bodies of Tony and my husband. I had my arms around my husband's neck, he was kissing my neck, and Tony was again reaching around and playing with my nearest nipple... while his cock continued its slow in/out motion between my pussy lips.
My entire body shuddered a few times as mini-orgasms washed through me... but Tony just kept his measured pace... and my husband watched the indications of pleasure on my face. Each time, as the quaking subsided, my husband kissed me all over my face... and pressed himself more tightly against my body to get a second-hand feel of Tony's continuing assault on my receptive pussy.
This must have gone on for at least 45 minutes. During that time, I felt my hubby's hard cock press against my tummy. By now my crotch was soaking wet. I grabbed hold of my husband's cock and aimed it between my legs, right next to Tony's cock. I felt too full to encourage him to try to enter me, but I positioned him so that as Tony pressed into me, my husband's cock rode along the side of Tony's, into the wet V between my upper thighs. My husband told me later that feeling another guy's cock slide against his hard cock was quite strange and erotic... particularly knowing that the other cock was wet with my juices, and was exploring his wife's pussy with each thrust.
I could feel the sliding of my husband's cock against my pussy lips and crotch as Tony pressed us all together. The combination of feelings, and the thought of what my husband and I were doing... what we were sharing together... set off another rolling orgasm within me, causing me to clench tightly against Tony's cock. I guess that got his juices flowing too. He began to increase his tempo until his crotch was crashing against my buns with each thrust. I felt him expand within me... and he finally shot another big load of his man juices deep up inside of me. That increased action set my husband off, and I felt him press himself tightly against my crotch as his cock exploded a load between my legs... onto Tony's nut sack.
We played together for at least another hour before Tony finally left. During that time, my husband got hard again, and wanted to enter my pussy from behind as I rested my head on Tony's hairy chest. He did, and he commented on how "neat it felt" to have his cock sliding through Tony's copious deposit within me. This time, Tony cupped his hand over my mons to feel my husband's thrusts within me... and his final eruption inside of me.
After Tony left, my husband and I showered together, cuddling and groping each other under the shower spray... and playing like a couple of kids. We fell asleep in each other's arms after repeatedly reaffirming our love for each other.
Saturday afternoon we saw Martin again. It was a relaxing time of shared sensual pleasures for all three of us. Among other things, my husband took me doggy-style as I gave Martin a thorough blow job. I had a special sense of satisfaction knowing that my pussy was pleasuring my husband as I brought Martin off with my mouth. Martin was developing into a good friend who genuinely sought to give me pleasure.
Silly Sex... Just For The Fun of It!During the past year, I have joined my husband on four more trips to Chicago. The first three times, we got together with Martin and Tony individually, as we had the first time. However, the last time we were together, it was different.
My husband had arranged a surprise for me. He had secretly shipped a box to the hotel to arrive before we did. It contained all the things he thought we would need the next afternoon. It was an afternoon he had arranged for both Tony and Martin to join us.
That day, my husband, pretending to be going out for a business appointment, met with the two guys to give them an opportunity to meet each other and to tell them of his plans for my surprise.
My husband came back to the room fifteen minutes before I thought Martin would be visiting us. I had showered and was wearing just my dressing gown. He had me go to the bathroom to remove it and to stay there until he came in. In the meantime, he spread the bed with a moisture-resistant sheet that was in the box he had shipped, and had invited Tony and Martin to enter the room quietly and to remove their clothes.
When my husband joined me in the bathroom, he covered my eyes with a blindfold he had brought. "What is all this about?" I asked. "You'll see," he replied. Then he led me back to the main room, nude except for the blindfold, and had me lay in the middle of the bed.
I felt movement on the bed, on either side of me, and I thought Martin and my husband were on either side of me. I reached out and wrapped my hand around one cock and said, "Hello Martin." I heard his voice say, "You guessed right, Beverly." Then I reached out on the other side and was startled to touch the distinctively large cock I knew belonged to Tony. "Tony?" I said. "Are you here too?"
"Guessed right again Bev, I'm right here," he replied. That's when my husband reached over from the edge of the bed and pulled my blindfold off. All three guys were totally naked too, but each had something in their hands.
"What's that stuff?" I asked. "Well," said my husband, "we're going to have a 'dessert party.' You are the dessert, and these are the toppings." Then I realized that they had various kinds of dessert toppings - a spray can of whipped cream, a squeeze bottle of chocolate sauce, maraschino cherries, and other assorted dessert toppings. I just flopped back on the bed and laughed nervously when I saw what they had.
About that time, Tony sprayed a dollop of whipped cream on one of my breasts, and Martin started squeezing chocolate syrup onto my other breast. My husband dabbed a big spoonful of vanilla pudding (his favorite) right on my mons, and then (while I was giggling), they each put a cherry on the top of their work.
"And now what?" I asked. Without answering, all three of them began to lick the nearest topping and use their tongues to spread it around my breasts, tummy and pussy. I couldn't help but laugh while realizing I was about to enjoy the attentions of THREE guys this time.
It is a good thing my husband thought ahead and brought a special sheet for the bed, on which we were all laying. In no time at all, it was covered in cream, chocolate, cherry juice and pudding. The guys took turns grasping a cherry in their teeth and feeding it to me. My nose and lips quickly had a mixture of the toppings that I tried to lick off.
The guys took turns at my breasts and pussy, applying more sweet goo, licking and nibbling. Strangely, it felt good. I love chocolate, so I took turns squeezing chocolate on each of their cocks and sucking it off. We were a sticky mess.
After 30 or 40 minutes of silly play that had an erotic quality about it, the guys informed me that they were each going to insert two stem-less cherries deep in my pussy, apply whipped cream between my pussy lips, and each would give me twenty deep 'fuck' strokes to make cherry sauce in my pussy. I thought they were nuts, but I decided to add to the craziness.
"Here, squirt a couple of inches of chocolate sauce in this glass," I suggested. "Then you can dip your cocks in and coat your cock heads just before you enter me. Maybe that way you can create some chocolate covered cherries." They laughed, but they did it!
My husband already had a hard-on, so he went first. As quickly as the head of his dick was dipped into the glass, he dipped it into my pussy and proceeded to give me twenty brisk strokes. He said he could feel the cherries pushing against his cock. Then it was Martin's turn. A chocolate dip, and then he immediately plunged his hard cock into me for his 20 deep thrusts. His were slower and more deliberate. I could see chocolate sauce and cherry pieces ooze out around his cock.
Finally, Tony took his turn. By now, we were all sort of tittering at the absurdity of our little game. Tony had been stroking his cock to hardness as he watched the other two guys. He poked his cock into the glass as I held it, swished it around, and coated it heavily with the brown syrup.
Then Tony held his dripping cock at my pussy opening and drove it in with one solid thrust. Even I could feel the cherries crush within me. I sucked my husband's chocolate-covered cock as Tony gave me nineteen more "crushing" drives. When he finally withdrew, I had chocolate sauce and cherry particles all over my pussy and crotch, and the guys all had gooey cocks.
Tony let me lick the cherry-flavored chocolate mixture off his cock as Martin decided to slide between my legs and tongue as much of the sweetness and goo out of my pussy as he could. His deep tongue probes felt good as I finished licking Tony clean. When Martin finished, he came up and gave me a sticky-faced kiss.
We all showered and got rid of the remaining chocolate, etc. We all decided we had had enough of the "silly sex play." It hadn't resulted in orgasms for any of us, but it had been fun! My husband had thought to bring three of my douche containers with him, so I was able to clean most of the cherries and chocolate out of my love channel.
When we were all freshly showered, the guys took turns sucking my pussy and nibbling on my breasts until I had my first wonderful climax of the afternoon. That was just the start. Over the next two hours, all three guys screwed me in various positions until they had each deposited a couple loads of their "sauce" within me. During that time, I must have been blessed with four or five more wonderfully-satisfying orgasms myself.
At one point, my husband and Martin lay side-by-side facing each other on the bed while I straddled their legs and sucked the heads of both of their cocks into my mouth. I used my hands to knead and fondle their nut sacks while sucking and tonguing their two cocks. Tony took advantage of my up-raised ass, slipped behind me, and entered my pussy from behind.
Tony was slow and gentle this time, and my body spasmed two or three times with orgasmic relief as I paused briefly in my ministrations to the two cocks in front of me. Tony finally flipped me over on my back, put my legs on his shoulders, and entered me again while Martin and my husband each began sucking on one of my breasts.
With my mouth away from tender cock flesh, Tony started to drive into me with relentless strokes. I felt my body twist and shake under Tony's assault until a really intense orgasm consumed me. My pussy contractions set Tony off, and he filled me again with his juice.
It had been a fun, but exhausting afternoon. After Tony and Martin left, my husband and I curled up in the bed and fell asleep in each other's arms. We finally awoke about 9 PM, cleaned up and went out for a late dinner.
Over the past 18 months, we have invited two other guys to share sexual pleasure with us. One was when we traveled to New Orleans, and the other fellow we met with twice on two different trips to New York. They were good experiences, but I won't bore you with the details of these encounters.
Since launching our new shared 'extra-guy' sexual ventures a year-and-a-half ago, we have experienced MFM fun on eight different out-of-town trips (never at home), with four different guys, for twelve separate encounters. Frankly Joan, I have been pleasantly surprised that none of these "extra-guy" encounters has been a dud. Each one gave me pleasure, each in a different way. And, my husband claims he has enjoyed each and every one of them too.
Based on his reactions during and after each threesome experience, as I have observed them, and his tender loving of me after each experience, I really believe he has been enjoying these 'extra-guy' wife-centered ventures.
While back home in our own bed, my husband and I often reflect on our various experiences since you persuaded me to give MFM sex a try. Our shared experiences, and our pillow-talk about them, never fail to result in great sex with each other.
Again, I would never want my family, friends or our co-workers to know what we do for recreational sex, but I have no regrets for giving up my long-held inhibitions. Over these months, I have experienced some VERY intense sexual pleasure and feminine fulfillment that I never knew I was capable of. I believe you called it "expanding the horizon of your feminine pleasure potential." The love and companionship between my husband and I have seemed to grow as we have shared these new experiences together.
By the way, after you sent me your one-page file entitled A04-Anal, during the day I have been experimenting with my dildo and with a washed, smoothly-scraped carrot to relax my sphincter muscle, to see if I could enjoy anal sex with my husband.As the file suggests, I have been working myself with lots of lubricant (KY-Gel), and increasingly larger objects so my backside will relax and allow entry without giving me pain.
Last week I surprised my husband by telling him I wanted to try anal sex again and telling him of my 'anal exercises.' That night he was very gentle with me, helping me to relax my sphincter, and watching me use the carrot a few minutes before he entered me. As you might guess, he was very hard in anticipation of our new fun. He lubed himself very well and entered me slowly while I lay on my tummy.
When he was all the way in, he just stayed there and asked if I was in any pain. Surprisingly, the worst I felt was a mild discomfort and fullness. As soon as he began a slow in/out motion, the discomfort disappeared and was replaced by a new and different sort of sensual stimulation. In no time at all, my husband exploded inside my rectum. It had felt good for me, but I had not climaxed myself.
We have done it twice since, after a period of conventional intercourse, and each time it was easier for me and produced even better sensations for me. Last night he reached around and played with my clit while he was buried in my backside, giving it slow mini-strokes. His finger action (coupled with the fullness in my backside) brought a wave of deep, satisfying orgasmic bliss to me. As my body contracted in its release, it caused my husband to explode way up inside my backside. Surprisingly, the warmth and the newness of this kind of sex play really left us both warm with satisfaction.
I even think that I might invite my husband to enter me that way the next time we are with Tony. I could never take Tony's large cock back there, but it might just be a wild and mutually rewarding experience for all of us if I sit on Tony's cock, taking it all the way up inside my pussy, and then have my husband enter my backside. If I can do it, I think it would give all of us a memorable evening. I will let you know how things go.
Joan, I just thought you might like to share my experiences with some of your other female readers and husbands too. I will keep you posted on any new things we try or new guys we invite into our recreational sex life. | null | (Her report... 18 months after her first MFM experience) | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/3-000 MFM STORIES BY HER/3-010Bev.txt |
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