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12,810 | On a Long Drive | "Do it," I said. "I dare you."
I glanced over at Ellen to catch a glimpse of the lust smoldering in her big blue eyes. We had been driving down the lonely highway for almost four hours, and had exhausted our stores of conversation somewhere after Eldorado. A semi rolled down the road ahead of us, the only vehicle we had encountered in over twenty minutes.
"But..." Ellen said. Heavy breathing weakened her voice into silence.
"He's probably falling asleep at the wheel. Wake the poor guy up with some titty. It'll be a rush."
"But..." she said, her voice almost a whisper.
"I'll pull up alongside him. You flash him your boobs and we'll zoom off into the next county. No big deal. Just naughty games to pass the time."
Hearing a soft whimper, I stole another peek at my wife. Ellen stared at me vacantly as she fondled the stiff nipple jutting into the cotton of her pale green shirt. I accelerated, bringing the truck within striking distance.
"What the hell," Ellen said.
"You're so fucking hot," I said, changing lanes and slowly creeping closer to the cab. Ellen bit her lip and smiled painfully. The scent of her musk filled the car. She turned toward the window and lifted her t-shirt, exposing her dark-tipped cream melons. I matched the truck's speed so we were relatively motionless for thirty seconds. The sudden blast of an air horn roared over the plains. I punched the gas and we tore away.
"Ohmigod," said Ellen, falling back into her seat for a moment. She pulled the t-shirt up over her head and then squeezed her big tits hard. "Did you see that?" she asked, looking back at the receding truck. "He's great."
"You bad girl," I said, my cock throbbing painfully.
"Slow down," she said. I lifted my right foot and let the car coast down from ninety. The trucker quickly cut into the distance I had only just established. Raising her eyebrows over a naughty grin, Ellen stuck her head and arms out the window and shook her bare breasts at the trucker, whooping with excitement in the mad rush of wind. The air horn blared in energetic appreciation.
Reaching over, I lifted Ellen's skirt and fondled her pantied ass while she urged the trucker back alongside us. Pressing a finger between my wife's thighs, I found her drenched with excitement. Ellen pulled herself back inside the car, her hair as wild as the look in her eyes. Leaning over to give me a kiss, Ellen pushed her bottom toward the open window. The raging horn shook the meadows as Ellen pulled her panties down.
"I'm so fucking hot," she said with a gasp. "He's gorgeous."
"Tramp," I said, working my hand down to squeeze one of her tits.
"Give me your cock," she said in a husky tone that compelled me into action. I fumbled with my jeans, trying at the same time to control the car's speed and direction. Ellen fingered her wet cunt as I struggled, and the truck roared beside us. After some difficult contortions, I managed to work my steely prick free. Ellen kissed my staff hungrily and wiggled her behind. The horn trumpeted our excitement over the vast plains.
Despite the awkward position, Ellen managed to push my cock deep into her mouth, her backside still aimed out the passenger side. I tried my best to concentrate on the road and keep our speed steady while my prick was being devoured by my ravishing, ravenous blonde wife. The truck suddenly leapt forward and I looked up to see a handsome young trucker leering down through our broad windshield. He shouted enthusiastic encouragements as Ellen licked my rod. I gave him a thumbs up and he pulled on his horn.
"You want to fuck him?" I said. Ellen groaned and sucked. "There's a rest stop up ahead." Ellen lifted her head from beneath the steering wheel and licked her lips.
"Really?" she asked.
"Two miles. Get back in your seat and let's cruise through."
"I need fucking," Ellen said, rubbing her clitoris eagerly.
I dashed ahead of the truck and turned on my signal to indicate our intentions. A few seconds later, a large yellow bulb on the right side of the cab began to blink. We turned into the exit and slowed.
I veered to the right, winding down the driveway of the rest stop. A family ate their lunch at a grey picnic table. Four cars sat parked in front of a well-trimmed brown cabin. A highway patrolman leaned against his cruiser.
"Get down," I said. Ellen had anticipated my concern and was already laying low. I continued on past the road's resting travelers and curled back toward the highway. Ellen pinched her stiff nipples and started laughing out loud.
"You mad fucker," she said as I sped back down the ramp. "Let's find a motel. I can't take any more driving."
"I'm with you," I said, struggling to breathe as my heart shuddered in my chest. "Vixen."
The road soon stretched out empty before us. I smiled at my wife lecherously as the long blast of an air horn rumbled in the distance, the blare of a grateful trucker wailing a goodbye. |
12,501 | The Fete (Legend 3) | "You be new around 'ere then?" The speaker leaned over the fence, the straw in his mouth waggling as he talked.
"Yes, we're Americans from the Airbase. I'm Jim, and this is my wife Judy."
"Arrh!"
"Er, and you are?"
"I be Silas, I be. Silas Merryweather." The speaker brought a hand from his pocket as if to shake on the introduction, but he merely pulled the straw from his mouth and pointed with it towards the picturesque thatched cottage about 100 yards further down the lane.
"You be renting Mrs. Foster's old place then?" he said.
"Yes, that's right." For the first time in his life, Jim felt like he wasn't in control. His day job was a transport pilot, flying the feisty old Charlie 130s. Okay, so it wasn't exactly Top Gun, but hell, he'd made full bird Colonel at 29. Some feat when his job lacked the glamour of the fighter jocks. Doing that stint on special ops had helped, of course. 'It's because you deserve it,' his wife had observed, smiling.
Judy was always smiling. Short, vivacious, curved in all the right places, blonde, bubbly, slim and sexy. Clever too! That was Judy, everything a man could ever want all in one exciting little package. Her smile slipped a half notch as she waited for the man to reply.
After an age, he said, "Arrh."
That seemed to be the end of the conversation. So the couple bid their farewells.
"Talkative sort!" observed Jim, dryly.
Judy giggled. When she wasn't smiling, she was giggling. It made Jim want to gather her up and eat her alive. God, she was gorgeous.
Jim had been stationed at RAF Alconheath (a Limey airbase, supposedly, but in reality as American as Apple Pie. Maybe they thought it would fool the locals?) for only two weeks, and as an officer, he was entitled to rented local accommodation. He'd settled for a quaint old English thatched cottage. A house with a straw roof and walls made out of cowdung and sticks. Built back when the Mayflower was a twinkle in her architect's eye.
Of course, Judy loved it, even though he kept banging his head on the beams.
They were determined to settle into the life of English countryfolk, so later that evening, they found themselves in the local pub, the Lost Maiden.
As usual, Silas Merryweather propped up the bar in the snug. Normally taciturn, he had become quite loquacious when he'd described the new couple earlier.
"I think she be about right. You see."
So the welcome they received was a curious blend of warm friendliness and intense curiosity.
"Will you be coming to the Fete then?" Someone asked.
Jim looked at his wife. She nodded eagerly.
"Yeah, sure. That'd be great. Hey, what are you guys all drinking then?"
The legendary Yank generosity.
As usual, Silas was first in the queue.
"What'll it be, Silas?"
Silas indicated the pump with the stem of his pipe.
"Bitter?"
"Arrrh."
"You don't want be drinking that rubbish," opined the ruddy-faced young man in the too-tight suit. "Try some of this." He held up a beaker of a murky brown liquid.
Jim looked at it dubiously, then tried a sip. Surprisingly, it tasted great.
"Here, honey, try some of this. Hey, can I have another one for my wife?"
"Aarh, that you can."
They stood sipping the brew, listening to the sounds of a normal little village fete. Jim really thought they'd arrived. He was especially pleased when everyone greeted them like old friends.
The brew was starting to go to his head a little, and so he looked for somewhere to sit down. He asked a group of burly farmworkers if he could sit with them, and they cheerfully obliged, sliding their beefy backsides up the bench until there was room for both him and Judy.
He turned towards her, but found she was gone. Momentarily taken aback, he glanced anxiously around the room. He spotted her sitting with a group of women around her age. She smiled and waved. He relaxed.
The afternoon was an amazing success in Jim's mind. The local hooch was really getting to him now, and he knew he was slurring badly. But his new friends, who all seemed impervious to its deadly effects, treated everything he said like it was the most amazing thing they'd ever heard. He loved telling them about the boring taxi driver job he did every day. He threw in a bit of derring-do to spice it up a bit, embroidering his tales with every retelling.
He looked around to find Judy, but she, and the women, had gone. Now the beer tent consisted of just men.
In his inebriated state, Jim didn't notice that one by one the men slipped out. Or that the returning men looked thoughtful before joining the miasma of bonhomie that surrounded Jim like a cloud.
Later that night, they steered Jim gently towards another tent out towards the edge of the field. It took him a while to fight with the canvas and to get inside. It was dark, and his new friends helped him slip out of his clothes and onto the mattress that lay there. Suddenly, he felt incredibly randy when he felt a warmth moving next to where he lay. He reached across and touched a breast. She responded with a quiet moan. He'd know that moan anywhere, it was Judy. To his befuddled mind, he was at home in bed, getting ready to pleasure his wife.
Strangely, he thought he imagined someone exclaiming "Arrrh." when he pushed himself deeply inside her.
They came to the next morning, groggily trying to understand where they were.
Slowly, they remembered.
"You were insatiable last night, lover," she said. "I'm incredibly sore."
"Me too. Wonder what the hell it is they make that stuff out of. I'd like to ship a load stateside, we'd make a fortune."
"How'd we get here anyway?"
"I dunno, honey. Maybe the locals thought we'd had too much, so they put us to bed."
The reception they got from the villagers was a little cooler than it had been the day before. Jim put it down to the fact that he'd gotten himself plastered. They were still friendly enough, though, as they made their way, slowly, home.
The harvest was a record that year, and the couple were invited to a harvest supper in which they were the guests of honor.
Jim was telling one of his buddies about it the next day.
"Hey, you live in Upper Pidley, don't you?"
"Sure, why?" replied Jim.
"They've got a curious legend about that place."
"What's that then?"
"The way I heard it, they had to have some sort of ritual before they gather the harvest in. All to do with some witch they burnt about a thousand years ago. She cast a spell on the village, and ever since then, they had to sacrifice a maiden, or their harvest would die in the fields. Over the years, this kind of got corrupted, and by the middle of last century, it was down to the whole of the village having to lay some girl or other, that being the equivalent of a sacrifice, I guess. This girl couldn't be any girl either, she must be a girl who hadn't lain with any man from the village before. Must have made virgins a rarity around there, huh? Anyway, the last I heard, it all sort of died away. Though knowing some of the locals, I wouldn't be surprised if something like it still didn't go on. That'd be fun, huh? By the way, how was the fete?"[email protected] | [email protected]
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12,515 | A Change of Direction | "... wake up. Come on now, darling, you must wake up."
Jacqui thought muzzily. Must have overslept again. Sleep started to unravel and... MUM!?!
Eyes shot open. "MUM, you're alive!" She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to make them clear. Her Mother was still standing there above her. "Aren't you? This isn't a dream or heaven, is it?"
"I am alive, darling, and you are still my daughter. You took the gift of the Goddess, the power that could have given you back your dreams, and you used it to shatter my resistance to the healing magic, and then, to give me life." Her Mother gave a huffy sniff of mock disapproval. "In spite of my decision to keep you from wasting the power on me."
"Dreams change, mum, and my dreams have changed. Besides, there was no choice. You matter much more to me than a penis. The comparison is laughable."
Jacqui tried to get up so she could enfold her Mother in a hug, but weakness dragged her back down. "None of that, Miss. You need rest to regain your strength. Bronwyn is incredulous over what you did tonight." She grinned that wonderful, impish grin of hers. So beloved, Jacqui thought. "Do you know that when you attacked Lancaster, you also Transformed every known member of the Brotherhood at the same time?" Jacqui shook her head, surprised at that. "Yes indeed. Now almost every Sister has a newborn daughter to raise. Quite a change for all of us, let me tell you. We have centuries of experience with boy babies, but absolutely none with girl babies. Bronwyn took Lancaster, and has named her Lani. She thinks he, or rather, she thinks Lani has the potential to be a Priestess, with a lot of love and the right training and upbringing."
"What happens if they learn the Transformation Spell?" Jacqui asked.
"If you are worried about a resurgence of that faction of the Brotherhood, don't be. You did your job very well. They were all newborns. We just did the Birth Rites on them. None of them will ever wield the Dark Power again."
"You know what is really strange, Mum? Lancaster wanted to breach the rift between the Brotherhood and the Sisterhood, to remarry the Power of Darkness with the Power of the Light, and now he will. Only instead of his son doing it as a member of the Brotherhood, *she* will do it as a member of the Sisterhood." She stopped and gathered her courage. "I wanted to kill him, Momma, but at the last instant, you stopped me. What I did was all I could think of doing to prevent him from using that awful power again."
Laurie soothed with a gentle physical and magical touch. "Hush. You did just fine. What is really amazing is that in all the centuries of strife between our two factions, we of the Sisterhood never considered using the Transformation Spell that way. We always saw it as a gift. I guess it took someone who did not see it quite that way to find its potential as a weapon."
Laurie checked her daughter's forehead and found it cool. "Now, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, Mum. A little tired, but otherwise really fine." A hand went protectively to her stomach and her healer's touch sought the baby sleeping there. Her child was all right, but different than before, she was surprised to note. A grin lit her face. "My baby is fine, too. And *she* won't have to be Transformed. There will be one more girl baby for the Sisterhood to raise."
"You think you are having a daughter? Darling, I told you - our family doesn't have daughters." Jacqui's brows lifted in mute challenge and Laurie blushed. "Well, our children don't start out as daughters. Our eggs reject sperm that carry X chromosomes."
"This one started out as a male, too, Mom. But as I told Bronwyn, every male creature within the range of my spell was Transformed. Including Junior." she laughed, patting her still flat tummy. "In the end, I did exactly what I told you I would not do. I Transformed my son."
Both women shared a chuckle at that irony, then Laurie became serious again. "You know, dear. You will still be able to go back to being a male. You are still on track to learn the Control of the Transformation Spell. You can use it on yourself as those other men in the records did. The part of my original spell that imposed the prohibition against you using the Transformation on yourself still stands since you saved me. However, I would say you will have ample power for the job once you have satisfied all the experience requirements."
"And let someone else raise my kid?" Jacqui's look was mutinous and her tones were indignant. "Not bloody likely. We are talking the first female point guard in the NBA here. She is going to need the proper example. Besides. Marcus is her father. Since she is going to be a girl all her life, we can share her with her paternal grandparents. It might make his passing easier on them."
Laurie raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Are those your only reasons, Missy?"
Jacqui simply grinned. "And I would not give up the love and loving of the Sisterhood for anything, Mom." Jacqui pulled her Mother down into the bed beside her for a quick kiss and hug. "Thank you, Mom." she whispered into Laurie's ear. "Thank you for loving me that much."
Another thought struck Jacqui. "Um, Mom?"
"What, love?" Laurie murmured against Jacqui's mouth.
"You *are* going to be my birthing coach, aren't you? I mean, that isn't something a guy should have to face without his mom there to hold his hand. Even if the guy is a girl, now." And Laurie burst into laughing, happy tears, and was soon joined by her daughter.
The End of the New Beginning |
10,395 | Hypno Celeb 33: Shannen Doherty | "Todd, you here?" Shannen Doherty walked through the deserted club. It was weird seeing it in the daylight, quiet and silent, with no one around. Shannen had been frequenting it a lot these past few weeks, and she'd gotten to know the club's owner. He was a nice guy and apparently didn't have any problems with Shannen's fame or reputation, which made her happy. It was really tedious trying to ditch the "bitch" label.
Todd walked out from behind the bar. He was in his thirties, heavyset with dark hair and a beard. He had just opened the club a few weeks ago and had attracted quite a following in that time. "What brings my favorite former TV bad girl here so early?"
"Well, I heard you had a new CD coming in from that band you follow in San Francisco," Shannen explained. She wore a black dress with a rose pattern on it, her dark hair falling to her shoulders. "I kind of liked the other stuff from them, so I was wondering if I could get a sneak peek."
"For you, anything." Todd hit a couple of buttons, and a techno beat began to fill the club. At the same time, the crystal disco ball began to spin above the dance floor. A pair of lights struck it, sending flashes into Shannen's field of vision. She walked out onto the dance floor, bobbing her head in time to the music, enjoying the rock beat pulsing in. "Very nice," she said. "I can't wait to try it on the dance floor."
"Neither can I," Todd smiled. He watched as Shannen swung onto the floor and took special notice of how she stared at the spinning ball. Todd flicked another button, and the ball lowered slightly, moving closer to the floor, nearer to Shannen's vision. She didn't seem to notice, following the ball with her eyes as it hovered a few feet above her head.
Shannen was enjoying this. The combination of the music and the soft lights was quite relaxing. It felt good just to watch the lights flashing in her eyes as the music played. She felt warm, comfortable. It was as if something in the music spoke to her, telling her to give in, relax and let go. The lights from the ball continued to flash in her eyes, continuous flashes that filled her eyes and then her thoughts. It was so relaxing just to let her mind and eyes fill with those wonderful lights. It was nice of Todd to do this for her. Very nice. He was a very good friend. Someone she felt closer to by the minute.
Todd watched as Shannen stopped moving and swayed in place, her face slackened and her eyes fixed to the spinning ball. The subliminal messages in the music tape were taking their effect. He had secretly been subjecting them to Shannen for the last few weeks, hidden in the tapes he'd been playing. Todd smiled as the flashing lights and the messages took hold. Shannen would soon be a very "user-friendly" friend of his.
Shannen slowly rubbed at her breasts underneath her dress. She suddenly felt so hot, so aroused. Her eyes continued to watch the spinning globe as she moved her hands down her dress. She felt like she'd been watching the ball for hours, but she didn't care. She felt like she could stand and watch the ball spin forever. God, she felt so damn horny. She needed some cock really bad. She suddenly tensed as she felt a pair of strong hands on her shoulders. "Come on, Shannen," Todd's voice said. "Let's go in the back."
Shannen managed to tear her eyes away from the ball as Todd walked her towards the back room. He was happy to see that she remained in her trance state and seemed to obey his commands. He opened the door and pulled her into his small office. He sat down on the small couch against one wall and looked at the entranced Shannen. "Shannen, do you feel like fucking right now?"
"Yeah," Shannen said, licking her lips.
"Good. Take off your clothes." Shannen unbuttoned the front of her dress and shook it off of her. She stepped out of her shoes and stood in black bra and panties. "All the way, Shannen. I know you want it that way." Shannen reached behind her and undid the back of her bra. Her large tits came loose, slumping forward. She slipped her black panties down her legs, exposing her dark patch. She stood, naked, waiting for her next order.
Todd had undone his buckle and shoved down his pants in order to let his hard cock loose. He admired the nude Shannen for a moment before motioning her forward. He took her by the hands and pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the lips. She responded with a passion, the messages heightening her arousal and turning her on to any lovemaking. She wanted this and she wanted this bad. She showed it by shoving herself against Todd like he was her true love. His cock pressed against her thigh as he buried her head in her cleavage, kissing the curves of her breasts, which only seemed to drive her on.
They spent a few more minutes necking, then Shannen turned herself around. They continued to kiss, her twisting her neck around to tongue him as he massaged her breasts. He pushed her forward onto the couch. She gripped an armrest with both hands. "Do it," she whispered huskily. "Do me in the ass, baby." Hypnotized or not, she needed to feel him inside her right now. He obliged, shoving his hard-rock cock into her ass. He pushed it in and out, setting up a steady tempo as he pushed her on. He pinched her cheeks together and enjoyed hearing her squeal. Her fingers dug into the armrest and she arched back as Todd shot his wad into her. She slumped forward, heaving with breath as the orgasm subsided.
Todd pulled his slick cock out of Shannen's ass. She slumped down on the couch, turning over. Todd still felt hot all over and ready to go. "Shannen, suck my cock." He pushed his rod against her face, and she obediently took it into her mouth. She sucked it long and hard, her tongue tickling the tip as she pulled it down. She seemed experienced at it, licking all around the base as he pinched his balls. He moaned and pushed his pelvis in toward her. He pulled it out just as he came, shooting cum all over her face and mouth. He loved the way she licked at her face and smiled dreamily.
Todd redid his pants and quickly picked up a towel. He wiped off Shannen's face and ass and had her redress. He led her back into the club and sat her on a bar stool. "Shannen, when I snap my fingers, you'll leave this wonderful state you're in. You won't remember anything that has happened between us. You just walked in and you have to go now." Todd put a keyword in Shannen's mind, then snapped his fingers. Shannen blinked open her eyes and returned to wakefulness. "Thanks for the music, Todd. I've gotta go."
"See you later, Shannen," Todd said. He was glad that the bar obscured the hard-on he still felt. Watching her leave, he reflected on all the other people who came into the club. Time to start a little club of his own. |
10,411 | THE LADIES WHO LUNCH | "I can't believe you're taking this seriously," Georgia Jewell whispered.
"Why not?" Dee Dee Sayles replied coolly.
The waiter approached with more coffee.
"Yes, thank you," Dee Dee said.
"Oh no," Georgia stammered.
Georgia felt her face flush as she kept her gaze on the little dish of foil-covered mints the waiter had set down. She could not help noticing the back of his wrist as the cuff of his shirt rode up. It was tanned and strong, covered with his blonde curls. How could this little strip of flesh send that hot a tingle down her back?
The three women fell silent until the waiter was gone, watching him in the mirrors as he walked across the room.
"God," Cheryl Harper gasped. "Imagine what's underneath that apron."
The three women, two blondes and one African-American, ate lunch together every Tuesday at Bernard's. Georgia, a 42-year-old green-eyed blonde, was an important but obscure Democratic Congresswoman from Ann Arbor, Michigan. Dee Dee, a 44-year-old green-eyed blonde, was a secretary at the Nuclear Regulatory Agency. Cheryl, a 36-year-old African-American with brown eyes, was a researcher at the Library of Congress. All three women had noticed Jon, the tall blonde waiter. He was slim but with a good upper body. He had a nice butt, strong forearms, and a neck like a wrestler.
"He's beautiful," Georgia sighed. "But he can't be more than twenty-two."
"He's twenty-four and he's studying for his master's in Nordic Mythology," Dee Dee informed them.
Dee Dee took a bite of her apple brie tart.
"He is a Nordic Myth," Cheryl sighed.
"And he works this Friday night," Dee Dee said.
Cheryl laughed into her cappuccino, spraying foam. Even Georgia started to giggle.
"Well?" Dee Dee asked.
"Well," Georgia paused. "It has been a while since we've done it. Besides, remember, we gave up the game."
It had been a year since they last kidnapped a man, with another eight months before that. Punctuated by one sorry attempt at trying to kidnap a man.
"A while," Cheryl broke in with a giggle. "I'm so horny that every time I see a hunk, I want to snatch him."
"So let's get back into the game," Dee Dee said.
"You're both crazy," Georgia insisted, lowering her voice. "How would we do it anyway?"
"I have a plane," Dee Dee said quietly. "And a place."
"The lodge?" Cheryl asked excitedly.
Dee Dee nodded.
"But he'll recognize us," Georgia pointed out.
"He'll never see us," Dee Dee said mischievously.
The three women bent their heads over the dish of foil-wrapped mints and plotted as the tall, blonde adonis busied his beautiful self resetting tables in the back.
Business was slow on Friday evening, and Jon left shortly after midnight. As he walked under the awning of the Woodson Building, grumbling to himself over his lousy tips, he was surprised by the large fishing net that fell over his head. It happened so quickly, so quietly, that he thought right away it was some sort of prank and started laughing and swearing. A black-clad figure ran out from the shadows and grabbed the bottom of the net, pulling it tightly around his ankles.
It was not a particularly scary black-clad figure, however. Jon realized with a start that it was a female. Dee wore black stretch stirrup pants, a black cashmere sweater, and a Hermès scarf wrapped bandit-style around her face. Jon barely had time to wonder who it might be when Georgia appeared from overhead, swinging like a gymnast down from the awning and knocking into Dee Dee, who was trying to restrain Jon.
"Oh, shit," Georgia cursed.
"Watch it," Dee Dee cried out.
"Damn it," Georgia said.
Jon kicked out at the net and fell.
"Get his feet," Dee Dee hollered.
"I'm trying," Georgia responded.
Dee Dee and Georgia used their advantage in numbers to wrap the netting tighter, rolling Jon into a ball.
"Oh, damn," Georgia cried out. "I broke a nail."
Jon felt feminine hands all over him. He saw a black limousine roar up to the curb just as he heard a sexy woman's voice whisper in his ear.
"Don't worry," Dee Dee said. "You're going to love this."
The limousine stopped, and Cheryl got out. She ran around to the back of the limousine and opened the back door, then helped Dee Dee and Georgia bundle their catch into the back seat onto the plush velvet seats. Cheryl slammed the back door shut, jumped back into the driver's seat, and the limousine roared away with a jolt. Jon tumbled back against the seat, and two of his feminine captors bounced against him. Jon smelled their perfume and heard them giggle. He raised his hands to push the net away and felt Dee Dee's breasts as she bounced into him; she had two of the roundest, softest breasts he had ever encountered.
"Just do as we say," Dee Dee said in a sexy but determined voice. "And you won't get hurt."
This demand was immediately drowned out by more feminine giggles.
"Oh, Dee Dee," Georgia laughed. "You don't have to be so melodramatic."
"Shh," Cheryl hissed. "Watch it."
"Oops," Georgia giggled. "Sorry."
They had agreed not to use their real names. Jon strained to see in the dark.
"Okay, what's going on?" Jon asked. "What's the trick?"
"No tricks, honey," Dee Dee replied. "Just a treat, for us, and you are it."
"Who are you?" Jon demanded. "Who put you up to this? Was it Mark?"
"We were perfectly able to put ourselves up to it," Dee Dee pouted. "Thank you very much."
"I don't get it," Jon said.
"You will, baby," Georgia said. "This is the nineties, women take what they want, and we wanted you."
Jon could feel Dee Dee's and Georgia's hands caressing him through the fishing net, and he found himself growing aroused in spite of the strangeness of it all.
"We've been watching you, Jon," Dee Dee began. "And we've decided to borrow you for the weekend."
"Borrow me?" Jon asked.
"Strictly for our pleasure," Georgia said.
Georgia slid her smooth fingers over Jon's lap.
"Here, have a drink," Dee Dee said softly in his ear.
Jon felt a wine glass raised to his lips, through the fish net. He recognized the scent as that of a red wine, Amador Late Harvest Zinfandel, a gorgeous dessert wine, only forty cases bottled. Well, damn, Jon thought, if he had to be kidnapped, at least his captors had class.
"Now look, baby," Georgia said. "We really want you to have a good time, but we are going to use a little insurance."
Jon felt Georgia reaching through the netting. She found one of his wrists and snapped a handcuff around it. Jon protested by bucking himself up off the seat. Dee Dee's hand cupped his balls and squeezed. Dee Dee's touch was gentle, but the intent was clear. Georgia found his other wrist and clamped his hands securely behind his back.
"Have some more wine, darling," Dee Dee said.
Jon tried to take a drink through the fish net, but more of the Zinfandel spilled than he drank. He thought of saying something, but what?
"Okay," Dee Dee sighed. "Off with the net."
Dee Dee and Georgia got the net off of Jon. Georgia then took a black scarf and tied it snugly around Jon's eyes. As soon as Georgia secured the knot, she slid her hands around the back of his neck, pulled his head forward, and kissed him full on the mouth. Her body rubbed up against his.
"Honey," Georgia's voice was breathless. "Do you want to ride up front and keep our driver company a little while?"
"Sheesh," Dee Dee giggled.
Jon felt Dee Dee move off the seat and climb over the front seat to the front of the limousine.
"You just can't wait," Dee Dee giggled. "Can you?"
"Wait?" Georgia laughed. "Why?"
Jon felt Georgia's hand sliding his zipper down, and felt his penis leap up in response. Then he felt her lips close around his penis. There he was, handcuffed in the back of a limousine with a slight buzz from an incredibly expensive wine, and one of his female kidnappers sucking him off. What could he do? These women didn't exactly seem like ax murderers.
Georgia locked Jon's penis in long strokes and flicked her tongue against the underside of his shaft, rolled her tongue around the soft tip, and then plunged down, taking him deep into her mouth. Jon moaned, almost came but held back. A guy can't seem too easy.
Georgia slipped off of Jon and peeled off her blue stirrup pants. Jon caught a whiff of her pussy, then felt her smooth thighs as she mounted him. Slowly Georgia leaned into Jon. He felt the lips of her cunt, hot and slippery, slide up against his hard penis.
"Ohhh, I knew you had a sweet penis," Georgia purred. "I just knew it."Georgia continued to slide up and down, rubbing her clitoris against Jon as shamelessly as a cat in heat. Jon arched up, but Georgia lifted her hips so that the target was just out of his reach. She stopped, poised with the lips of her snatch just barely touching the tip of Jon's prick.
"Grabby, grabby," Georgia teased. "You're the prisoner, remember? You get it when I say you get it."
"Who says I want it?" Jon sneered. "Your cunt can't be such a prize if you have to kidnap a guy to fuck it."
Georgia slapped Jon hard across the face.
"Bitch," Jon cried out.
"Don't be rude, pretty boy," Georgia said.
Jon thought Georgia was going to stop out of spite, but she began again. A slow slide, up and down, rubbing her clit against him. Finally, Jon felt Georgia lowering herself down on him inch by inch. She pulled back if he thrust upward even the slightest. Once he was deep inside her, however, Georgia sighed with pleasure and began to wiggle in a slow, round motion until her legs tightened and she gasped with delight. Jon rammed her and shot his load so hard into Georgia that the handcuffs dug into his flesh and he passed out. |
10,944 | The Sauna (2/4) | "Alan?", inquired Nina.
"No... not at all," I stammered.
As soon as I'd finished my sentence, Nina got down from where she was sitting and proceeded to pull her towel away from her body. She then re-tied the towel around her waist and sat down again.
I almost had heart failure when I saw the beauty of her magnificent breasts. Needless to say, she was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen in my life, and her breasts were sexy as hell.
Almost as soon as I realized what had just happened, my cock began to grow faster and bigger than ever before. I was eager to touch Nina's breasts... even if it was the last thing I ever did.
"You know," piped Katy, after a short silence, "I think you're right - it is getting quite hot in here." She continued, "I might just lower my towel to my waist as well, if that's alright by you two."
"Fine by me, Katy," said Nina, without delay.
"Is that alright by you, Alan?", asked Katy.
"What...," I said a little dazed. "Oh yeah; no problem, go ahead," I replied.
I watched as one of the most beautiful teenagers I knew untied her towel from just above her breasts, then lowered it until it was around her waist. As with Nina, she finished the 'procedure' by re-tying the towel around her hips.
By now, I was getting really 'worked-up' by sitting within a very small distance of two topless beauties in a sauna. I decided that I should pinch myself in the side, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Luckily for me, I wasn't!
In order to attempt to confirm the fact that I wasn't dreaming, I chose to go and have a cold shower, as I was beginning to 'burn up' with the heat and the excitement.
As I closed the door of the sauna behind me, I breathed a heavy sigh. I stood under the cool spray of the shower and tried to get my heartbeat down to a reasonable level. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to want to slow down at all.
Within less than a minute, it was obvious my heart wasn't going to slow down for anyone this afternoon. With this in mind, I decided to go back to the heat of the sauna and the beauty of the two semi-nude young women.
Not long after my return to the sauna, Nina started talking again.
"You know, this heat is getting beyond a joke for me. I think I'll go and take a quick shower, if that's alright by you two," she said.
"That's okay by me, Nina," stated Katy.
"Not a problem with me either," I said.
Soon after Nina had gone out the door for a 'quick' shower, Katy started asking me questions.
"Well... what do you think of her, Alan?", asked Katy, anxiously.
I couldn't help but let out a slight laugh at the question I'd just been asked. Of course, I thought Nina was one of the most beautiful young women I'd ever seen in my life, but I didn't know what to say to Katy.
"She seems alright," I said.
"Do you think she's sexy?", asked Katy.
"No comment," I said, laughing.
"Does that mean you fancy her?", Katy continued to quiz.
"Aye, I'd say so," I retorted rather calmly, with a smile.
As Nina walked back into the sauna, she noticed that both Katy and I were smiling. "What's wrong?", she asked.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Katy, "We were just talking about you behind your back!".
"I hope you weren't saying anything bad," said Nina.
"Well..." I said slowly. |
11,020 | Corporate Backlash - The Corporation | "The pool is clean, Madam. May I ask you a question?"
"You can ask," she said, "but I may not answer you."
"I was wondering where Mr. St. Claire is?"
"Oh, Martin never comes out here at the weekend. He leaves all the entertaining to Lisa. Now for task number two."
Jack's hopes soared. Maybe his boss had no idea what was going on here. Maybe he could enlighten him a little on Monday morning. If he survived that long. St. Claire was a man, he would understand a little office hanky-panky.
"Fifty push-ups!" Alice ordered, interrupting his reverie. "You look a little out of shape." She stared pointedly at his waistline.
She reached under her lounger, grabbed the whip, and started running it lovingly through her fingers.
Jack got the message and immediately fell to the ground. He could not remember when he had last done any push-ups, and it was not long before he was struggling to raise the weight of his body.
"Ten? That's all you can manage?" sneered Alice, as he finally collapsed with the effort.
"I'm sorry, Madam," he gasped.
"Well, let's see if you can manage 20 laps around the pool, shall we? Go on, pick those feet up. Let's see you put some effort into it."
One glance at the whip, and he was off. Alice got up, strolled to the edge of the pool, and dived in. Every so often, she would swim to the side and shout at him to try harder. Then she would float lazily away until the next time she detected he was flagging.
When he had finished and was standing panting by the side of her sun bed, Alice hauled herself out of the water and grabbed her towel. A small leather sheath fell out.
"Oh!" she laughed, "I almost forgot, this is for you. Come here."
Alice grabbed his penis and put the sheath on it, then proceeded to tie the laces tight. For the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, he was flaccid, and he was very grateful for that, as he realized the inside of the sheath had rather nasty sharp spikes. He also suspected that the whole exercise routine had been designed to achieve just that. Well, it had worked. Now the trick was to keep it that way, but with Alice around, it was not going to be easy!
She removed her wet swimsuit and settled herself back onto her lounger, her curvaceous body glinting in the late afternoon sun.
Jack looked away, as he felt the first stirrings in his loins. The spikes began to gently bite, as he tried, desperately, to think of anything that would stop the process. He became gripped in a mild panic.
"Please take this thing off, Madam."
She ignored his request and instead said, "Task number four, tongue exercise! Kneel down and pleasure me!"
She parted her legs and began to run her fingers gently up and down her slit.
Jack's attempts to try and stop the spikes were now failing utterly, and what was worse, he knew she was tormenting him deliberately.
"Come on!" she sounded impatient, "Maybe this time I can have some pleasure, without you spurting all over the place!"
The remark bit home. His office seemed like another lifetime away. He considered begging her, but realized the consequences might be dire if she did not get what she wanted. The sweet, curvy, giggly, sexy Alice had a darker side to her nature that he was not sure he wanted to experience.
He knelt down and leaned over her legs so that he could get in position. He could smell her arousal as his tongue came in contact with her labia and then worked its way into her vagina.
He licked feverishly, as the spikes gripped even harder, and his pain increased. |
11,041 | Skirt | "I'm so tired of winter," Laura said to herself, rubbing a red fleece jacket between thumb and finger. A wry smile tickled her face as she let a warm spring thought pass by. Laura turned slightly and pushed her way between two overstuffed racks of blouses to reach a thick ring of hanging slacks. Pushing hard on the loops of stiff wire, Laura opened a short space and began flipping the thin strips of black, grey, blue, and tan past her hand, continuing her constant hunt for something.
She lifted a pair of pants, royal blue cotton size eight, and then held it beside her hips. Laura hooked the hanger over her finger and resumed flipping dexterously through the garments. Another pair made the transition to her finger, and then another. Laura sighed, wondering if she shouldn't have gone to look at furniture instead. "I don't really need pants," she thought.
A flip of brown tweed revealed a black skirt, out of place. Laura pulled back the fabric to check the size and then lifted the skirt. "Isn't that cute," she thought and then frowned. "Where could I wear it?" She held it to her waist. "Short," she smiled, "with my blue silk blouse and some dark stockings." Laura's face grew serious, and she looked around. "About five years ago, maybe." She imagined feeling the heat of Tom's glare as he ridiculed her for trying to act younger than she was and started to put the skirt back. "Honestly, Laura," she said to herself, "he's never done that." She hooked the skirt's hanger onto her finger and looked around the clothed walls to find the fitting room.
Weaving her way between overstuffed racks, Laura finally reached the back corner of the department and looked around for some guidance. Walking past a large mound of unfolded clothes and a box overflowing with clear plastic hangers, she pulled the knob of a white slatted door. Laura stepped into the empty square space and tossed her purse and shopping bag on an upholstered box bench. Hanging up her goods, she closed the door.
A large mirror filled the wall. Laura smiled at her reflection as she took off her coat and hung it beside the pants and black skirt. "I still look good," she thought, turning her hips slightly to study the feminine curves of her body. Watching herself, Laura unbuckled the small brass buckle and unclasped her pants. The beige fabric slid down her thighs and fell into folds at her feet. Lifting up the slacks with her toe, Laura folded and then laid them over her purse. She took another glance at herself in the mirror as she loosened the hug of her cream lace panties. Laura smiled, shyly.
"Come here," she heard a younger woman say in a deliberate but hushed voice. Laura looked back at the still closed door. "C'mon," the girl said, slightly exasperated. Laura looked up to realize the walls ended at about eight feet, leaving four more between the cubicle top and the ceiling. Laura reached for the royal blue pants and began to step into them. Another door clicked shut.
"Sit down," the girl said. Laura closed the waist of the pants and turned to see her bottom in the mirror. "C'mon," said the voice from behind the glass. Laura stroked the fabric down the back of her thigh. The pants hung shapelessly.
"Am I going to get in trouble?" a deeper voice asked. Laura opened her mouth, astonished.
"She's got a guy in there," Laura thought, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.
"Yes, you are," teased the girl. "Now sit down. I've got to pick out something for Jack's party. This is easier, and they don't care."
Laura slipped off the royal blues and tossed them toward the corner. Pulling a grey pair from the hanger, she leaned over to step into them.
"This is sexy," the man said. Laura grinned as she pulled on the pants. "You look great."
"You like?" the girl asked. "Let me put on a dress now."
Laura turned to look at the pants in the mirror, grinning. "These look pretty good," she thought. She turned and stood on her toes, pressing the fabric over her bottom. "Nice," she thought.
"What do you think?" the girl asked.
"That's great," the deeper voice replied.
Laura turned again, trying to decide. "The sweater clashes," she thought and pulled the brown wool over her head. She shook slightly with a sudden chill, jiggling the creamy flesh of her full breasts in their lace encasement.
"I like that a lot," he said. The girl squealed softly.
"Sit down and let me try another one," she ordered. Laura nodded to herself and took off the grey pants. "If you don't sit down, I'm going to scream for help."
"I'll tell them you dragged me in here."
"Who do you think they'll believe?" she asked gaily. "The big brute or the naked girl?"
"Depends on the jury," he said, his voice low, almost threatening.
Laura took down the skirt and stepped into it. The fabric squeezed her hips tightly as she shimmied the black cylinder up toward her waist. She wiggled as she worked into the snug hold. "I can't," Laura thought, grinning lewdly. "They're indecent."
"Wow," the man said. "You look great."
"You like?" she asked.
"Wow," he repeated.
Laura turned to look at herself from behind. "Naughty," she thought. She bent a little at the waist and caught a glimpse of her panties. "Tom would just die."
"Scott," the girl said, the words emphatic and muffled. "What are you...?"
Raising a curious eyebrow, Laura paused. She stood still and stared breathlessly at her own smiling reflection, waiting as the sound of restless motion behind the mirror grew serious. Listening attentively, Laura watched as her nipples tightened beneath the cream lace of her bra.
"Wait," the girl said. "Let me get..." Her words were interrupted by another jostling and the clang of a hanger.
"There," he said. "Now just..." The girl moaned sharply. Laura watched herself as she unconsciously lifted the hem of the black skirt and gently touched the crotch of her panties.
"Damn, Scott," the girl said between breaths, "your dick is so fucking big." Laura whimpered and pushed her fingers underneath the cream lace.
"You like that, don't you?" he growled. "You like my big dick?"
"Yes," the girl said, emphatically. "Give it to me."
Laura rubbed herself furiously, watching herself in the mirror, listening as flesh began to slap flesh in a steady rhythm. Laura opened her mouth as the electric shocks of excitement rippled through her, and she felt her knees go weak.
"Damn," the girl said, "fuck."
Laura pulled the black skirt up to her waist and pushed her panties down her thighs. Turning, she leaned back against the mirror, pushing her bare ass against the glass. The wall shuddered slightly with each fleshy smack from beyond. Feeling their fuck bouncing steadily against her, excitement poured from Laura's pussy, drenching her diddling fingers.
"Oh God," the girl moaned, "give me that cock."
"Give me that cock," Laura whispered.
"Aargh," bellowed the man, and the rhythm of his blows intensified and then broke. Laura breathed deeply, on fire with her excitement. The other room quieted with gentle murmurs and kisses and lightly squealed 'oohs'. Laura closed her eyes and finally pushed herself forward. Hiking up her panties, she smiled to see the half-moon imprint of her bottom on the glass. A shudder coursed her body, leaving Laura smiling wickedly.
She watched her reflection as she danced a few provocative turns in the tight, short skirt. "Too naughty," Laura said softly and, peeling off the skirt, she quickly dressed and left, leaving the navy blues and fashionable greys in a heap in the corner of the room.
The clerk at the register, a young dark-haired woman, stood behind the counter folding sweaters. Laura plopped the black skirt down with a delighted smile.
"I am so tired of winter," the clerk said, pushing aside the pile of thick knitted wool.
"I think spring will be here soon," said Laura, dreamily.
"Did you find everything you need?" asked the clerk.
"Absolutely not," said Laura, almost laughing, "but I have a good start."
"We have some new blazers on sale." The clerk folded the black skirt and found the price tag.
"Nope," said Laura. "I've got more casual shopping in mind."
"Can I put this on your Hechts card?"
"Sure," said Laura, suddenly distracted as a couple walked past the register. Her eyes fixed on the bulging crotch of the young man's jeans. "I'll take one of those," Laura said, almost to herself. The clerk smirked.
"I think we're out, but I can order one for you," the clerk said, her voice low. They laughed.
"What I really need is some new lingerie," said Laura.
"Ours is upstairs, to the right."If you want something, you know, spicy, go up to Rudolph's on the top floor over by Lechters. They have great stuff," the clerk winked.
"Yes," said Laura. "I think spring is on the way." She signed the draft and took her package. "Upstairs?"
"By Lechters and The Movie House."
"Thanks," said Laura. Walking saucily down the wide aisle, she stopped to feel the fabric of a low-cut black blouse. "Maybe I should try this on," Laura said, laughing to herself.
Malinov
Power belongs to those who dare. Sapere Aude |
10,919 | Maria's Revenge | "Go to Boston Center now, on 118.05."
"Center on 118.05 for triple X-Ray."
I dialed the new frequency into COM 2, switched over to that radio, pressed the mike switch on the yoke, and reported in.
It was the expected response. "Roger, X Ray cubed, radar contact." Yeah, they saw me.
What an unusual day. Just four hours ago, I thought I'd be spending another night in Cleveland. Then, we had a breakthrough. If I'd be willing to accept an equity interest in the company, as well as a bit less money, they'd license my patent. "That way," John explained, "we'd be sure you'd be around when we wanted you. You'd have a vested interest."
Damn right. It would make me truly independent, independent of my wife's family for that matter, and we'd live 'happily ever after'.
Hey, I'm within a hundred miles of home! Fly the damn airplane, stop daydreaming, plan ahead.
"Boston Center, Mooney six niner triple X Ray would like lower, please."
"Triple X, descend now to 7000 feet."
"Triple X out of 11 for 7."
Close the cowl flaps, pull an inch or so off the manifold pressure, trim a bit nose down... there it is, a 500 feet a minute descent. That'll burn 8 minutes and get me 24 miles closer.
So, we signed the letter of intent. Our lawyers would see to the details. I made a quick call home and told Maria I'd be home about 11 tonight. What a life!
I called flight service: an Instrument Flight Rules plan would be needed - rain and clouds and such all the way. I filed a flight plan, ETD in an hour.
John's wife offered to drive me to the hotel and then to the airport. You bet I accepted: a big mistake. She came up to the room with me, watched as I started to pack, went into the bathroom as I continued, and she came out, wearing only a towel, just as I finished filling my garment bag.
"You're in the big leagues now, Al. Time for some big league perks," she said.
Until then, I was a faithful husband.
But when she came closer to me, and my arms automatically went around her, and felt the towel on her back. The towel opened, and I touched her skin. Then only our bodies close together held the towel up, and I saw, in the mirror, her nude back, her naked ass, and those wonderful legs, and she said "Don't you like me?", and stepped away, and then the towel was gone, and her breasts were as lovely as her legs, and her waist was so slender, and her hips, and her figure, and...
and I couldn't resist.
She drove me wild, and then drove me to the Burke Lakefront airport, and drove out to the airplane to help keep me dry, and then, after preflight, she climbed into the cockpit with me to "Tuck me in", and I was never sucked off like that before.
I'll have to change my night time pre-start check list. Let's see, right after "verify gear switch is set to down" I'll add "Extinguish all interior lights, position pilot seat fully aft, undo pants, have passenger test alternate joy stick for freedom of movement and lick-off".
I could still smell her, still feel her mouth, feel the sensation of that first penetration. And, I missed my scheduled ETD by only a half hour! A life-changing half hour. I don't want to be an unfaithful husband, as great as that sex was. I won't let it happen again.
Back to the real world. I had to call home. I pushed one side of the headset off, pulled out the cellular phone, and called. There's never a problem with cell phone connections when you're a mile and a half up in the sky.
"Maria, I'm 20 minutes out. Will you pick me up?"
"Sure, Al: be careful, viz is awful, it's windy, and dark, and raining. I'll see you soon." Maria's a pilot, too. More than that, she went through the bother to become a CFII: she was licensed to teach, including flying on instruments.
ATIS, the automatic briefing broadcast, confirmed what Maria reported. 300 feet ceiling, a mile visibility, winds 140 degrees at 23 gusts to 35. It would mean flying the approach to near minimums: as low as I care to go. Then, I'd have to fly the airplane onto the ground in those cross winds. There'd be nothing subtle about this landing.
"Triple X, continue descent to 3000."
"X's is out of 8 for 3."
As expected, a few minutes later, the next hand-off: "Triple X, Boston Approach now, 122.25."
"Twenty two, twenty five for X cubed. See Ya."
I twisted in the new freq on COM 1, switched radios, and made the call.
"Approach, Mooney six niner triple X Ray out of 5 for 3, with Hanscom information Bravo," confirming I listened to the ATIS broadcast.
"Triple X, radar contact. Continue descent to 2,500, expect an ILS to one one. Current ATIS information is Charlie." |
10,934 | Cabin | "You've got to come," said Colleen.
"I'll talk to Joe," I responded, wanting to say yes. Colleen was staying in the next cabin over; Joe and I had rented a lakeside cabin for a week, and Colleen had introduced herself right away. It was the morning of our first full day, and Colleen and I were sitting on the dock that our cabins shared while Joe was out in our boat.
There were four cabins close by, and Colleen told me the four couples always go together several times during their annual two-week stay. She said the couple who had rented Joe's and my cabin for the last couple of years apparently couldn't manage it this year.
I felt lucky: Colleen and Don were really nice, and though I hadn't talked to the other couples, I had to believe friends of Colleen's were going to be pleasant company. Joe and I certainly haven't expected to step into a social scene, but I was sure we'd enjoy it.
One of the other two couples, who Colleen introduced as Bill and Linda, were there when we arrived. Both were a little older than the rest of us, though Bill, who was tall, looked like he was in better shape than the younger guys. Colleen pushed wine in our hands, and we sat down. Linda didn't seem to be much of a talker, but I did my best to converse with her. The last couple, Jeannie and Greg, arrived soon after. They appeared to be Joe's and my age and were all smiles.
I talked to Greg and Jeannie after we got our supper: the two of them seemed to stick together. I found out he was a doctor, and she was a nurse. Joe was talking to Don and Bill and seemed to be engrossed in the subject of boats. Supper was over, and Colleen called for everyone's attention. She said it was time for the evening's games. I wondered about Trivial Pursuit and figured something like that wouldn't be too bad. Colleen didn't mention anything though.
"What do you guys play?" I asked Jeannie.
She giggled briefly. "Well, I'll bet we're going to do hypnotism."
"Hypnotism?"
"Yes, Bill is a hypnotist; it's hysterical!"
This was a new one on me: I'd never met a hypnotist socially before or seen anyone do that at parties. I heard someone say "New couple should go first," but Colleen vetoed that idea and volunteered herself and Don.
I just watched, intrigued if a little nervous at the idea that they might be expecting me to allow myself to be hypnotized. Colleen and Don sat on the couch next to each other, and Bill knelt in front of Colleen, talking to her quietly.
"What does he make you do?" I asked Jeannie.
"Oh, just silly things," said Jeannie.
"Like what?" Colleen was asleep! She was slouching on the couch, and her head was slumped back, and Bill was talking to Don.
"Just watch," said Jeannie, and she giggled. Soon Don was out too, and Bill had them both stand in the center of the room. Then he told them that when they awoke, they'd act normally, but if anyone clapped their hands, they'd immediately give each other a short kiss! He demonstrated the sound of a clap a few times as he instructed them.
He awakened them, and Colleen was immediately asking people if they needed more to drink. Yes, I thought about clapping. Finally, Bill did. They did it! They both broke off and immediately found each other and kissed each other for just a second! Then Colleen went back and continued as if nothing had happened!
"Nothing for me, I'm fine," said Greg as she came over, and he clapped. They did it again. Jeannie looked at me, revealing her amusement. I couldn't help it; it was funny. I grinned despite myself.
That went on for another ten minutes or so, and then Bill put them under again and then removed the suggestion. We gave them a hand when they came awake, and they didn't show any signs of suddenly needing to kiss. Colleen smiled at me, and I could see she was a good sport about it.
"You should be next," said Jeannie, next to me. "New couple's next," she announced to the whole room.
"That seems fair," chimed in Colleen, "over the couch, you two."
I'd never been hypnotized before, and was definitely nervous about it. But I did wonder what it would be like. Joe seemed to look to me for guidance. I shrugged at him, and he shrugged back. I figured they'd get their chance to laugh at us, but where was the harm? And we didn't want to look too suck up when we were just starting our week.
Bill started talking to me as I sat on the couch. Joe was next to me, watching me."It was getting larger while Greg was touching it!
How about when you had a prostate exam?"
"No!" Greg let go and stood up, and Joe was sticking straight out! Greg went over and opened a black bag, a doctor's bag that I hadn't seen before, and he pulled out a rubber glove and some lubricant. Everyone just watched him. He put on the glove and put lubricant over his finger and took some to put behind Joe! Joe just stood there.
"Gina, stand in front of Joe with your back to him," said Greg. I stood up. I felt so embarrassed, everyone looking at me. I got in front of Joe and did as Greg asked. "Reach behind and hold his penis and press it down." I did it. "Back into him and press your rear against the top of his penis. Don't take your hand off it."
I stood there. I felt Joe's body move, I knew Greg had inserted his finger or fingers in Joe's rear. I could feel by Joe's movement against me that Greg was doing it.
"Gina, is Joe still hard?" asked Greg.
"Yes," I answered, obediently. I thought I heard a snicker from someone in the room. I wanted badly for this to be over with. I still felt Joe's body moving.
"Is he getting harder?" asked Greg.
"I... I don't know," I answered. If he was, it wasn't by much. Jeannie approached me and briefly put her finger right on my vagina.
"She's getting wet, though," she volunteered. I felt I would just die right there.
"OK, get her ready for her exam," said Greg. Jeannie pulled me by the arm and I followed her. I sneaked a look back. Greg was standing free of Joe and was taking off his glove. Jeannie led me to the kitchen table and told me to lean over it, so my rear was hanging off the edge. Behind me, I heard Greg tell Joe to remain standing, and slowly "stroke" himself to keep himself hard. Looking back at him, I watched him do it while Bill approached him and talked to him quietly.
Don came up behind me as I leaned there. He unzipped his pants and took out his penis, his cock. "Don't look," said Jeannie, "look forward."
I felt the cock being positioned. Then it pushed in all the way and in seconds, Don was doing me wildly. Jeannie crouched down in front of me and looked at me. "Enjoy these exams?" she asked. I was breathing too hard to answer. Don finished and withdrew, then I felt a cock again. I knew it must be one of the other guys. Jeannie smiled at me.
I glanced a little to the side: Linda was standing there dressed in only a t-shirt. She just stood there, looking straight in front of her, her hands on top of her head. Colleen was behind her, I could see that she was touching Linda's rear but I couldn't see what she was doing. I felt yet another cock enter me. I wanted to know what Colleen was doing. I looked back in front of me to see Jeannie preparing three hypodermics from the doctor's bag.
It was morning and Joe and I were making breakfast in our kitchen for all of them. They'd gone out in the boats. We were still both dressed just in tee-shirts. We just kept working, not saying anything.
Colleen came in the door with the Landlady. The door had just been standing open. "Nice," said the Landlady, giving Joe's rear a little smack. I'd only seen her once, when we checked in, though I'd talked with her on the phone a couple of times earlier. She ran her hand over Joe's cheeks and between. "Did he enjoy losing his... virginity?" she asked.
Colleen seemed to be hiding a smile. I felt like I was about to come, just looking at them. "Send them over for a while after they clean up here," continued the Landlady.
"Her too?" asked Colleen.
"I've got some ironing to do," answered the Landlady. |
10,288 | The Legend 2 | "Hey you!"
Chief Sitting Eagle turned slowly to study the source of this irreverence. The feathers in his theatrical headdress, donned for the tourists, ruffled slightly in the breeze rippling down from the Smoky Mountains. His inscrutable, gnarled, Asiatic features, the sign of a true-born American, regarded the speaker casually. He said nothing.
"Yes. You. I was talking to you. Don't come your silent Indian shit with me."
The speaker was a young woman. Casually dressed in a style that only good money could provide. She had, although she was still very young, the self-assurance and arrogance that denoted a woman who was used to getting her own way.
"Listen, Bud. You're here to help the tourists, right? We're tourists, so help us. How'd you get to this Cherokee Museum? Come on, we haven't got all day."
She tapped her foot impatiently, as he continued to regard her, eyes unblinking.
She was fairly tall, blonde (from a bottle, he guessed), tanned, and slim. Pretty, too. Like her companion, who was a dark-haired clone. Both of them the product of expensive health clubs. Now their mouths twisted in unified annoyance as he continued to hold his counsel.
Her companion grabbed her arm.
"Forget it, Kell. Let's ask in the shop. He probably doesn't know; he's only the sweeper," she indicated the broom with which he was sweeping the veranda of the tourist trap. "Probably doesn't even speak English, frigging Hick."
They pushed past him and entered the shop. It was filled with all the usual trinkets that tourists the world over buy for extortionate prices, which then, forever after, gather dust. Beads, blankets, carved gewgaws. It was a pure trading post, Hollywood style.
They saw a startlingly handsome young man tending a couple of middle-aged suburban 'Cowboys'. He flashed them a gleaming smile and indicated that he would be with them in a moment. As they waited, the old Indian entered the shop and spoke briefly to him. The old man then returned to his duties, the broom moving in a desultory fashion, as he continued to regard the young women. At last, the shop assistant finished and turned to them.
"What can I do for you ladies?"
"At last, someone who can speak American," said the blonde. "Listen, I was looking for the Cherokee Museum."
Another smile. "Sure, that's easy to find. Just go to the next turn-off to the right. You'll see a big wall with a sign on it. It's just a few hundred yards away on the left." A pause. "You're not from around these parts. You on holiday?"
"Yeah. All the way from Rhode Island. On a tour, seeing the sights before we go back to college in the fall."
"Where are you staying tonight?"
"Some hick town called Gatlinburg."
"In that case, can I give you a bit of advice?"
The girls looked at each other, then nodded to him.
"Avoid Gatlinburg. It's a one-horse kind of town. If it's your lifetime trip, then camp out on the mountain tonight. You won't regret it. The dawn over the hills is breathtaking. You ladies got camping gear?"
Another nod. Of course, they did. Unused, it nestled in the trunk of their BMW.
Another beaming smile.
"That's great. Look, I'll give you a map of the park. Here, I'll mark where you can leave your car. There's a trail up into the hills from there. It'll take you a couple of hours to trek up, but it'll be worth it. There's an old campsite up there and a vantage point. Built by the park authority, but not used much now. Too steep for the average tourist, I guess. You ladies look fit enough. There's a fire point up there, a tower and all. You can stay close to that; there are washing facilities and all there."
"Thanks, but why are you helping us?"
He laughed.
"It's my job, ma'am. I get paid to help visitors to the area. Helps my folks, too. 'Cause my folks own the grocery store across the street, and I'm sure you're gonna buy your supplies from them now, aren't you?"
His laughter was infectious, and the girls thought, 'What the heck,' it was something to tell their roomies back at college.
"Sure, why not?"
Before they left, he persuaded them to buy a booklet about the area.
"To give you a sense of belonging. A feel for the history."
They pushed past the old Indian as they left the store, hardly noticing him.
"Listen, Kell. It says here that there is a legend about this mountain."
Linda leaned on one elbow as she studied the booklet while her friend tried to get the gas stove working.
"Shit! Ow, I've burned my hand. Stupid fucking thing." She sucked the heel of her hand and then replied, "What?"
Linda stabbed the book with her index finger. "A legend, about this area."
"Probably says that you ain't supposed to use gas fires up here."
"No, serious. It's about some horseman of the mountains."
"Oh, yeah. Must be pretty good in the saddle, 'cause I couldn't even get my hunter up here, up that frigging path. Talking of saddles, I wouldn't have minded getting that guy in the store in the saddle. That was some buck. You see the size of the bulge he was packing?"
"Kelly, you are impossible. Here was I telling you all about the legend, and all you can think about is some redskin stud. Mind you, he did look kind of constrained in those jeans, didn't he?"
They both dissolved into giggles.
It was much later, as the hurricane lamp threw weird shadows across the tent, that they returned to the subject.
"What's this about a horseman, then?"
"What? Oh, yeah. In the book, it said there is this legend about this area. All to do with the forced migration of the Cherokee. It says that one guy escaped. Stole an army horse and hightailed it. Left his squaw and kid. They died on the march. They say that he took to the hills, looking for his lost love. You can still hear his hoofbeats in the dead of night as he seeks them out and seeks revenge for his loss."
"Yeah, right! How long ago did this happen?"
"Over 100 years ago, I guess."
"So, we got this guy, who is way overdue for a telegram from the President, thundering around on an old nag. Man, I'm scared."
"Aw, come on, Kell. It's just a legend. I think it's kind of romantic, searching for his true love. They also say that the rain is his tears as he discovered them dead, and the wind is his wails of anguish..."
"...And the snow is his dandruff. It's crap, Linda. Put together to give the tourists a cheap thrill. You fell for it, too. I got one about Newport if you fall for that kind of stuff. About this diner, dumped in the middle of a parking lot, that serves stew made out of dead animals."
Her friend pouted. "I still think it's romantic."
"Okay, okay. You win. What else does it say?"
"You'll make fun of me!" sulked Linda.
"I won't. Honest Injun." They both cracked up at that.
"You promise not to laugh?"
Kelly nodded. "Sure. I promise."
"It also said that he only comes out when the weather is bad. The legend says he makes it bad."
"Yeah, right. Does a rain dance, does he?"
"You promised to be serious, Kell!"
"I would, but this is so corny."
"Well, I'm not going to talk about it anymore. You'll only make fun."
"Have it your own way. I didn't want to know anyway."
Linda turned off the lamp, and they both snuggled into their sleeping bags.
The moon was high and bright as the hoofbeats sounded.
"...And as the unseasonal weather continues to buffet the Midwest, fears are growing for two teenagers, Kelly Litham and Linda Simon, who have been missing since last Friday. Their car was found abandoned near Newfound Gap in the Cherokee National Park by park rangers. Sources within the national park authority suggest that the girls ran out of gas and tried to make it out on foot. The park has only just reopened after being cut off by gale-force winds and torrential rain.The search has been hampered by fallen trees and has been scaled down for the night, but will resume in the morning. We'll continue to bring you reports as they come in.
The Anchorman shuffled his papers, smiled, and continued, "And on a lighter note, the winner of the Knoxville celebrity duck race was..."
Juan braced his leg across the narrow doorway of the shack as he collected the pesos from the head of the long line of eager peones. Inside the squalid shack, two girls whimpered in unison as the endless stream of men forced their lust into their naked bodies. Already the mattresses were rotting in the humid atmosphere, and the chains holding their ankles apart were speckled with rust.
Juan glanced out into the dusk. There must still be over 100 men squatting in the gloom, and at least that number had passed through the door already that day. Just like yesterday, and just like tomorrow.
At this rate, the girls would be used up in a few brutal months. Still, what did he care? After all, they had cost him nothing. Stupid old Indian! |
10,324 | Sister Sue (Part 2,2) | "Look at his bloodied face, Greg! Mom must have really beaten him good!"
"Don't be an idiot, Rick! That's mom's pussy blood. Look at the used tampon over there."
As both boys turned towards the bed, I made a quick dash to get out the door. Greg saw me and gave a swift kick to my stomach. I fell over in pain.
"Looks like our little sissy wants to play! And I've got just the costume."
Picking up the damp catsuit, Greg tossed it at me. Once again, I smelled the odor of sex, sweat, and piss.
"Put it on, you sissy faggot, before I crush what's left of your puny dick."
I reluctantly started to get into the suit. Sitting on the floor, my feet and legs slid into the damp lacy material. I tried to pass my cock and balls through the crotch opening, but it was too low.
"Forget about your cock, faggot. Lay it flat against your stomach and pull the suit up."
I did as ordered and soon found myself encased in the black lace prison. I could see both boys' penises harden as Greg moved over to the bed. Grabbing me, Rick pulled me up and forced me down over Greg's lap. My ass jutted high in the air. With my head upside down, I spied Rick take two thick hairbrushes from the dresser. As both boys positioned themselves, they started to beat my upturned ass. The thin material gave no comfort from the stinging blows. I cried like a baby as the brushes continued to fall. My cheeks felt on fire as the loud "smacks" mixed with my cries. Finally, resting their arms, the blows stopped.
"I think our little sissy needs to be more of a woman," Greg chuckled. "Rick, bring over mom's shoes."
Rick retrieved the high-heels. Still bent over Greg's lap, he tried to put them on my feet, but they kept falling off. "Shit! His feet are tinier than a woman's," shouted Rick. "Go over and get a pair of Sue's training shoes. In the meantime, I have a better idea for mom's shoe." While Rick rummaged through Sue's closet, I felt a sharp sting on my ass. Greg was using Irene's shoe to continue beating my sore bottom. Through my tears, I could see Rick returning with another pair of high-heels. Holding them up to my face, he whispered, "See these straps. They can be locked on. You won't be getting out of these anytime soon, sissy boy." Besides the lock, the shoes were very small with a long spiked heel. I couldn't imagine how my toes would fit in. Rick went behind me and grabbed my foot. Pushing with all his might, he crammed my toes into the tight opening. I howled as my foot arched, trying to fit in. Greg ordered me to shut up, or else I'd be really sorry. Finally, Rick worked the heel in and started on the other foot. I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming. Once done, Greg stood me up. I immediately fell over, sobbing, onto the floor. Greg turned angrily to Rick.
"You didn't lock them off, shit-head! How is he supposed to keep them on? Bring me the locks!"
Greg got on the floor and sat on my legs, facing my tortured feet. Rick handed him two small locks from the carpet.
"You'd better gag his mouth. This is gonna hurt like hell!"
"Gag it with what?" Rick asked.
"I don't give a shit what you put in his mouth. Use your ass for all I care!"
Rick thought for a second, then I saw him look down at me. With his feet straddling my chest, he lowered himself down. His shit opening nestled snugly against my still bloodied mouth. I could hear Greg laughing as the warm cheeks engulfed my head.
"Better not lean back, little brother. We wouldn't want the fag to suffocate. Not just yet, anyway."
"You better get that tongue deep up my brother's ass, faggot." The words seemed so far away. All I could see was the backside of young Rick. My tongue darted into his brown hole. I tasted something very bitter as the youth squirmed on top of me. Moaning, he reached down and spread his cheeks wider. His hole moved further down my tongue. Greg, meanwhile, took a strong hold of my right shoe. Holding tight around the heel, he pulled the leather strap. I screamed into Rick's ass as the noose tightened. My bent foot was now being forced into the unforgiving leather. My toes bent and crushed into the pointed space. My heel poured its skin over the short backside. Once my sole was completely flat against the leather, Greg locked the cruel strap in place. My tears flowed freely onto the floor as he grappled with my other foot. The taste in my mouth was getting worse as my tongue mined thick, pungent cream. Greg finally locked off the second foot. I felt him get off my legs. Rick was shivering on top of me.
"What's the matter, little brother? You about to cum? Your dick doesn't look that hard."
Rick grunted words I didn't want to hear. "I gotta take a shit. His tongue is making me dump."
Greg walked around his brother and leaned down over my eyes. "See what your faggot tongue did? It loosened up all my brother's shit. Guess that means your sissy mouth wants a good taste. You better eat it all down, faggot, or I'll shove my shit down there too. Go ahead, Rick. Release your logs into our new toilet."
As Greg stooped down low to enjoy the show, Rick started pushing. My tongue felt the slimy intruder as it made its way toward the rim. I nibbled the foul-tasting log when it first appeared, hoping I could swallow it a little at a time. With one big push, however, the massive intruder filled my mouth. I tried to chew, but it was too big. Thrashing about for air, I pushed Rick off of me. Sitting up, half the log fell on the floor, hitting my stomach on the way down. I munched what was left in my mouth. Greg shoved my head down on the piece of broken shit.
"Eat it, faggot. I don't want to see a trace left on this carpet."
I reluctantly ate the shit down while cleaning the carpet with my tongue. When I finished, Rick presented his shit-laden cheeks to me for cleaning. I kneeled and licked his young ass pearly white. "Well, so far, you've eaten my mother's period and my brother's shit. Maybe I can offer you something to wash it down with."
Greg came over and shoved his prick in my mouth. In seconds, I felt the warm, salty urine flowing down my throat. I tried to direct the jet all over my mouth to wash off the putrid shit. Greg let me hold it as I eagerly drank him down.
"What a little shit sissy you are. I was right about you all along." Greg and Rick started to laugh once more as Greg saved the last few squirts to wash the dried blood off my face. "I guess we're done with him. Let's join mom in the den." Rick motioned towards the door. "Not so fast," Greg answered. "He still needs a few more things. Earrings for instance." Greg moved over to the jewelry box and started looking. Walking back over to me, I saw him with a large pair of Sue's earrings. "Hold his hands still over his head." They forced me on my back as Rick held my hands over my head. Greg straddled my stomach and kept the rest of me from moving. "How you gonna put earrings in him? He ain't pierced."
"No problem," answered Greg. From his other hand, Greg held up a long, thin hairpin to my face. He then started to massage my right tit. The friction of his weight on my penis and the sharp nails against my tit soon had the desired effect. Sticking out from the foul lace, he roughly squeezed my tit tight. With his other hand, he slowly jabbed the needle into the base. At my first scream, Rick positioned himself so his dick and balls covered my mouth. The phallus grew thick in my throat as the blood oozed from my wound. Taking the earring, Greg worked the metal through my punctured nip. All the while, I shouted muffled cries into the penis invader. As Greg started work on the second nipple, Rick humped my face. Faster and faster, his purple head assaulted my mouth. When the metal loop pierced me a second time, Rick came in my mouth. My voice gurgled muffled cries of torment mixed with cum. Greg then pulled on my new ornaments of femininity, and I sucked down Rick's last drop of manhood. They were right, I had become a sissy slut.
"One more thing, and then we're off." Greg fumbled behind me and found his mother's shoes. Telling me to kneel, I felt their warm hands on my ass. Feeling my cheeks part, I readied myself for the assault. I was sure that Greg was going to fuck my ass. Instead, I felt the sharp pain of his mother's heel rip past my virgin rim.A second later, another hard object was inserted. I cried when I looked in the mirror and saw both shoes sticking out of my bleeding hole. "Now I think he's ready." They tried to get me to stand, but the pain in my feet was too intense. Crawling to the den, I was quite a sight. Still dressed in the smelly catsuit, with earrings dangling from my breasts and a pair of high-heels shoved up my ass, I was spanked along until we finally reached the den.
My sister sat in the middle of the room, holding onto Simka's side. Her mouth was glued to his ass, and she took pains that Ted and Irene could see her tongue whip in and out of the brown shoot. As I entered, Irene started clapping. Greg and Rick both bowed at the obvious approval. Greg then got behind my sister and, grabbing her slender hips, plowed his hard cock into her juicy cunt. With her tongue still up Simka's hole, Greg climaxed. His hot sperm could be seen dripping from the engorged pussy.
Leading me over, he instructed me to clean out her cunt. There I knelt, with my face up Sue's pussy, licking out Greg's cream like it was gold. Tired of the show, Ted invited everyone in the pool to clean off. Sue and I were told to go to the bedroom and clean up the mess. Afterwards, we could shower alone.
As the men filtered out, Irene was the last to leave. Reaching down, she pulled the menstrual cup from her lips. Looking in and smiling, she brought it over to where Sue and I knelt. Taking our chins, she sweetly poured a little into our mouths.
"Sue called your parents, Paul, and told them you'd be staying the weekend. Every few hours, I'll have some new nectar for you two to relish. Now I suggest you both get to work!" Irene put her cup back in and left. Sue held me in her arms. Later, I crawled into the bedroom to help her clean. Sue found the keys to my shoes and released them from their prison. Taking lotion, she soothed the scraped skin and bandaged them. She also eased some baby rash medicine into my sore hole. After we showered, our tortures continued, but not as bad as before. Sue and I finally fell asleep, handcuffed to each other. As promised, every few hours, we made our way into Irene's bed where she fed us the golden soup. |
11,926 | In The Department Store | "Come with me." I grab you by the hand and pull you down the street.
"Where are we going?" you ask.
"You'll see..."
A few moments later, I take you into a large department store. Two flights up the escalators, a turn to the left, then we stop in front of a not-overly-large box-shaped object. On its side are strips of photos, and a large name imprinted on it--QuikPrints.
You look at me quizzically.
"I want some snaps of us," I reply to your unasked question.
"Oh." You shrug, then enter the small cubicle. I get in behind you and draw the curtain closed. It's crowded, but there is still just enough room for us to maneuver around.
I rummage in my pocket, draw out some change. I drop some of the coins into the slot. Then we pose nicely for a couple of shots, then make faces for another two flash-lighted takes.
I drop some more change in.
Just before the flash goes off, I suddenly grab your sweater and yank it up. The light dazzles us, but I know your full breasts with their taut nipples have been captured on film.
"Michael, what--?" is all you managed to say during that time because then I have my mouth planted on your nipple, my lips sucking hungrily on it as the light flashes again.
I turn you slightly sideways, manage to push both your breasts together and flick my tongue across your nipples as the third shot fires.
Then I bury my face between your succulent globes for the last shot.
You giggle and peek through the curtain.
"There's people out there," you whisper.
"So--?" I respond.
"Got some more change?" you ask.
I dig into my pocket again, pull out some coins and drop them into the machine.
Even before the last coin hits the bottom, your hands have found my zipper and yanked it down. You scoop out my hard cock just as the first photo flashes.
Then your tongue circles the tip and the second shot clicks.
Your mouth engulfs the head for the third flash.
And your mouth slides down the shaft to my balls, taking me fully into your mouth for the last picture.
I kneel in front of the stool. You hike up your skirt. Pantyless, you sit down and prop your feet up on the partition in front of you.
I drop in some more change. Your fingers open your cunt lips wide for the first shot.
I insert my fingers deep into the wet depths of your quim for the second.
"You two almost finished in there?" The voice comes from outside the booth.
We both grin at one another.
"Yes," you call out. "Two more shots and then we're done."
By now my mouth plants itself on your cunt for the third shot, though the picture will probably show just the back of my head between your thighs.
You're dripping wet with excitement. I want to stay and lick you, but I quickly maneuver myself up between your legs, manage to angle my cock towards your cunt just before the fourth shot flashes.
I push my cock into my pants, zipper up. You pull down your sweater and skirt. We exit the photo booth, smile at the people lining up outside, and look around for some place to finish what we've started.
Once we've picked up our photos, of course.... |
11,957 | Kat | "Come on," said Kathryn, "we're almost there." The young man she held upright as they stumbled slowly along the hallway muttered incoherently and groaned. Plodding steps brought them finally to the apartment door. Kathryn heaved Brian against the wall and tried the doorknob. It turned easily, and Kathryn sighed. She pulled his arm across her shoulder and pulled him into the dark.
"It's a good thing you're so skinny," she said, leading him down the barely lit hall toward his bedroom. She pushed his door open with a shove of her hip and, with a final effort, pulled him into the darkness. Catching her foot, she tripped and fell onto the crumpled surface of his bed, pulling her drunken charge on top of her. Brian mumbled, groping at Kathryn's thigh.
"Not tonight, big boy," she said, shoving him over and bouncing out of bed. She leaned against the doorframe. "If you'd stayed sober, we might have..." Brian shifted to hold onto his pillow and moaned. "You're right," said Kathryn, smiling. "Not even then."
She closed his door and stepped into the bathroom, flicking on the light. The harsh white radiance made her blink as she sat down to pee. Kathryn shook her head, relaxed by the release. "I should have known he was getting romantic about me again," she said. "I should have put an end to it before he started drinking." Kathryn stood and, looking in the mirror, teased her hair. "One o'clock," she said. "Too late to go back out, really." She shoved her brush back into her purse and flicked off the light.
Cast a glance back at Brian's door, she let herself play with a naughty thought. "He wouldn't even know," she mused but shrugged her shoulders and headed back toward the yellow beacon of the still open front door. Taking hold of the knob, she stepped into the hallway, but a glance back into the apartment caught her attention. Someone slept on the sofa. Curiosity mixed with boredom, and she stepped back inside. A young man lay stretched out, his dark curls propped up on the near arm, his feet pressed hard against the far.
Kathryn stepped over to take a better look. Although his face hid in the shadows, she felt a strong attraction to his slumbering features. She paused a while to stare, admiring his handsome visage at her leisure.
"What a dish," she said gaily to herself. Thinking of Brian passed out in the other room, she leaned close to the man's face, smelling his faint breath. "And not even drunk," she said. Kathryn kissed his lips, lightly. A smile glimmered across his face. "Mmm," she said with a shiver.
Kathryn stood back a moment, pondering, feasting her senses on the strong youth. Her nerves trembled as her imagination rollicked over the lean limbs and firm jaw. She reached for the light just behind his head and carefully unscrewed the bulb, turning it slowly until it fell loose into her hand. She put the glass piece down on the end table, where it rolled silently from side to side. Kathryn went back over to the front door and put her purse down on the floor.
"I've just got to," she said, and lifting up her suede skirt, she took hold of her black lace panties and pushed them down her thighs, past her feet, and dropped them into the open top of her purse. She slowly closed the apartment door, bathing the room in darkness.
After taking six careful steps forward, Kathryn felt for the floor as she went down on her knees. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the blackness until the dim outline of the sofa finally took shape before her. She crawled to the center of the sofa and carefully brought her hands to the cushion. Gently searching, she found the thick curved surface of his legs and, with gentle, easy strokes, she located the bulge she'd hoped to find.
Softly running her fingers up and down the undefined lump of flesh, Kathryn evoked a shifting response that thickened the mass. She teased the place cautiously. A rigidness evolved as she followed the natural line, until a hard rod had developed. "Mmm," she purred, and finding a cord, she gently pulled. The sweatpants fell loose. Kathryn slowly uncovered the stiff cock. Pale light from the window reflected off the dark flesh. Lifting the pole slightly with her warm fingers, Kathryn took the head, slightly salty, into her waiting mouth.
The young man moaned and stiffened, pushing his prick deeper into her wetness. "Oh, Angie," he muttered, putting a hand on her shoulder. Kathryn smiled broadly and tickled his dick with her tongue.
"Hey," he said, shaking his head. "Who are you?"
"Meow," Kathryn said, licking the tip of his cock.
"Pretty kitty," he said laughing, running his hand through her hair, ashen in the pale light.
Kathryn sucked his prick with a hungry rhythm, suddenly realizing that the faint shadows of this young man reminded her of another time, another night. He had the same dark curls, and she had kissed him in the black of night.
"Come on," she had said to the youth, taking his hand and dashing them both through the hedge and away from their friends. He followed tittering with glee as they ran down the hill and into a nearby field. The others kept on walking the other direction, oblivious to their escape. "Over here," she had said and flopped them both down in the tall grass.
The clouds were thick that night, and she could hardly see him as he leaned over to kiss her, to drink those sweet innocent lips with the first bursts of passion that had been welling in her soul. Kathryn had wanted him, felt his hand on the tense swell of her breast, felt the press of his thigh over hers.
A flash of lightning revealed the hunger in his eyes. The boom of thunder in the distance and the voice of their worried friends drove the youth from her clinging embrace. They had run back toward the car as the rain began to fall.
Kathryn smiled nostalgic as she sucked another young cock, anxious to drink up the young man's lusty flow. A rogue hand lifted her skirt, kneading the uplifted flesh of her ass, and she leapt with a sudden shock as a finger grazed her wet lips.
"Hurry," she said, turning around to let his fingers tease her swollen pussy. "Please fuck me." He slipped from the sofa, behind her, and taking hold of her waist pushed himself into the fiery storm of her cunt. Kathryn moaned, the heat of his rhythmic prodding welling higher with each fierce stroke.
A flash of lightning illuminated the room as he drove himself deep, as she felt his love coming. He yelled at the sight of her pale ass below, and she shuddered from within as thunder announced the breaking storm.
The young man fell away, sitting back on the dark sofa. Kathryn leaned forward to kiss the young man.
"God, that was beautiful," she said. He reached up to turn on the light. Kathryn stood. Rain began to patter on the window panes.
"Wait," he said, turning the switch in a rapid series of clicks. Kathryn opened the door, pulled down her skirt, picked up her purse, and blowing him a kiss, vanished into another stormy night. |
11,981 | FRESH PRODUCE | "Ma'am, are you okay?"
Nora looked up from the cold, linoleum floor where she lay blinded by the bright fluorescent lights. For a brief instant, she thought she had died and gone to heaven.
"May I help you? Do you need medical assistance?"
As her vision began to focus, Nora realized she was staring directly into the biggest pair of dark blue eyes she had ever seen. His gentle face was encased by ringlets of jet-black hair.
The Angel Gabriel had come to bring her to heaven and she was -- lying flat on her "ass."
"I think I need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!" she murmured.
He smiled and extended a slightly muscular arm to help her to her feet. The entire back of her dress was drenched with chocolate milk.
"What happened?" he asked.
She could feel her face becoming beet-red. This was surely the most embarrassing moment of her life, but Thank Heavens she wasn't going to be on "Candid Camera." She hoped.
"Can't be for certain. One never knows why one falls. I am known to be a klutz." Nora suddenly wished he would just vanish and leave her in peace during her moment of pathetic self-pity and humiliation.
"Hey, guess there's no use crying over spilled milk!" he replied.
His response didn't help at all. It just increased her desire to cry.
"Um... that was pretty lame, sorry. Look, are you sure you're okay? Perhaps we should call the manager and fill out a form or something...you could file a lawsuit if you're hurt."
"No, no, I am fine -- really. The only thing bruised here is my ego." She refrained from making any negative comments about the degree to which her well-padded derriere had cushioned the fall.
Now it was his turn not to laugh.
"Well," she said, "Welcome to Cliché City! Now we're even. One-to-one. Tit-for-Tat."
"Yeah, like meeting in a grocery store isn't the most cliché place of all. This is getting so corny I am going to introduce myself. Hi. I am Henley."
"Hi, Henley, I am Nora. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, Nora. Can I treat you to another carton of chocolate milk?"
"I feel like a complete idiot. A well-educated, mature woman drinking chocolate milk," Nora blushed.
"Hey, I drink it too. Man, I still eat Pop Tarts." He glowed at the thought. Henley had dimples the size of half-dollars.
"Pop Tarts!" I used to love the chocolate ones with the marshmallow centers," Nora laughed.
"Not as much as I adored Captain Crunch cereal," Henley added.
Nora's brown eyes lit up like sparklers. "I ate that every morning for ten years." She paused. "No wonder my growth was stunted."
It had occurred to her that Henley was towering above her. She was at least a foot shorter. He must have been 6'2", maybe more. She felt like Sprout next to the Jolly Green Giant.
This reminded her: she needed some French cut green beans.
"Wanna go grocery shopping, Madame?" he confidently asked.
"There is a God," Nora replied.
"Pardon me?" Henley looked confused.
"Nothing...I'd love to go shopping with you, Sir. If you don't mind being seen with a woman with a chocolate-covered butt."
Henley laughed. A good hearty, fiber enriched laugh. "Not at all -- my pleasure."
They began to stroll down Aisle Five, their carts side by side.
"Soup." Nora stopped.
"Soup, uh, soup is good. Soup is good for you."
"Yes, that is what they say. Hmmm. I think I'll stick to basic tomato," Nora said.
"You say ta-may-toe, I say ta-mai-toe," Henley sang off-key under his breath.
Aisle Six beckoned.
"Fruit." Henley stopped. "Canned fruit."
"Yes, canned fruit is good," Nora added, "I like peaches. Pineapples, I can deal with pineapples too. I like the ones shaped like little rings."
"Peaches and cream," Henley chimed in, "that would be heavenly...used to stick my tongue through the hole."
"I beg your pardon?" Nora's eyes were wider than ever.
"Do you live around here?"
"Ah, the BIG question. And I wanted to ask you first. Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, I do. Live right down the road at the St. Tammany Apartments."
"NO WAY!" she exclaimed.
"Way."
"I live there - so you can't possibly."
"Why? Is the St. Tammany too small for the both of us?"
"Too much chocolate milk in one place. Maybe we should lay off of it."
Henley laughed again. Nora surmised that his choosy mother had chosen Jif, by the depth of his dimples. He looked around forty -- give or take a couple of years.
He could have been reading her mind. "How old are you Nora, if you don't mind me asking."
"Fifty-four!" Nora exclaimed.
"You're fifty-four? Wow. You look fabulous. I am hitting the chocolate milk again tomorrow."
Nora giggled. "No silly, I meant the peas are only fifty-four cents a can. Not bad."
"No, not bad for a can of peas. Ever notice that frozen peas always look a funny shade of green?"
"I'm thirty-eight."
"Years of age or thirty-eight cents a can?" He winked at her.
"Very funny. Don't let me forget the coffee."
"Yes, Ma'am." Henley stopped and grabbed a bag of rice. "I'm thirty-nine."
"Wow. Marvelous. Someone my own age," Nora mused as she picked up a box of saltines and tossed it into her basket.
"Like you said, there is a God." Henley groaned as one of his grocery cart wheels suddenly stiffened, forcing him to delicately negotiate the turn into Aisle Seven.
"I really hate it when that happens," Nora remarked. Henley suppressed the urge to complain about the absence of lubrication.
"Fresh Produce!" Henley exclaimed as though it were a truly novel concept.
"These red grapes look fabulous! Look how ripe and succulent."
"HEY MISSY! Don't be using words like "RIPE" and "SUCCULENT" around me or I'll be squeezing the "CANTELOUPES" next!"
Henley began to juggle three russet potatoes in the air.
Nora was trying to feign an interest in the bananas as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was so handsome, so friendly and so spontaneously funny.
"You look pretty fascinated by those bananas there. Looking for a REAL big one?"
"Henley, are you trying to flirt with me?" Nora batted her eyes, ever-so-subtly. Or perhaps ever-so-evidently.
"Yes, I believe I am. It's not every day you meet a beautiful, brown-eyed brunette with a chocolate covered butt -- a nice butt, I might add."
"Thank you." It was a royal flush.
"You are beautiful." Henley dropped all three of the russet potatoes on the ground. His expression turned serious and dream-like as they stared into one another's eyes.
Nora felt as frozen as the vegetables in Aisle Ten.
With the speed of a dribble of Heinz Ketchup slowly emerging from a bottle in a TV commercial, Henley reached over and kissed Nora briefly but passionately on the lips. Her ice cream was beginning to melt. Any minute now it would be turning to liquid and start seeping out of the edges of her box.
"Let's get out of here," he whispered in her ear.
Nora's common sense was telling her that leaving with Henley might not be the most sensible idea in the world. But a rush of adventure had come over her. Grocery store fever.
"Okay," she said seductively. A little too seductively, she thought.
Henley took her hand and led her down Aisle Eight.
"Where are we going?" Nora asked.
"Wanna live life, really live it?"
"Yes, I always have -- what?"
"Tired of feeling trapped in the same environment, of living in the Saint Tammany Apartments, your mundane job, shopping for chocolate milk and tomato soup and overripe bananas?"
"Yes, yes!" Nora was becoming another person.
"C'mon!" He led her to the back of the store. The Meat Department.
He pushed the swinging doors open to the butcher shop. No one was back there. It was very cold and raw meat was hanging everywhere. Henley led her through another door.
"How do you know your way around here? Do this often?" Nora asked, her pulse rate flying.
"Worked here as a teenager through high school. There is the stock room."
He pulled her into the room and shut the door. It was dark.
Henley immediately began to kiss her, deeply and sensually. Nora let go and allowed her passion to take over. It was scary, sexy, adventurous, and dangerous. She knocked over a couple of boxes of Cracker Jacks as Henley began to unbutton the front of her dress. He kissed her neck and ran his tongue slowly down to her breasts. Nora could feel herself wanting more from him as he ran his hand under her skirt and into her panties. Their breathing became faster and heavier. Nora was running her hands through Henley's mass of curls as their lips locked in an inseparable embrace.
Click!They could see the lights under the doorway.
"Hello?" a deep, older voice asked. "Anybody in there?"
Henley put his hand over Nora's mouth. She could feel her heart beating against her chest as she tried not to breathe.
After a minute, they could hear the intruder's footsteps moving away. Close call.
They began to giggle. Their moment was gone. Like adolescents, they sneaked out, back to the safety of their grocery carts.
Minutes later, Henley helped Nora put her groceries into the trunk of her car. The wind was cool that night, blowing a breeze through her long, brown hair. The back of her dress had become stiff where the milk had dried.
"Henley?" Nora said.
"Yes?"
"What happened in there, I just don't know if it was right. I got carried away and... 'All's well that ends well.'"
He looked deep into her eyes. "Nora, I thought you wanted it."
"Yes, I mean, no."
"What? You can't say it wasn't good."
"I'm not saying it wasn't good, I am just saying... Hell, I just met you! You're a complete stranger. I need time to get to know you. I like you, and I want to do this right."
"It's okay. I guess I got carried away too," Henley replied.
"Can we start over?"
"Sure," Henley said. "Sure. You are absolutely right. I like you too and I want this to be more than just..."
"Sex?" Nora filled in the blank.
"Yeah, but you are sexy, you know. Little Miss Cantaloupes."
"Okay, Henley, enough. Ask me to dinner. No more stock room sex, at least not tonight."
"No stock room sex. I promise. It's a deal."
He began to rummage through her shopping bag.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Henley pulled out her new carton of chocolate milk and let it fall to the ground. Chocolate splattered all over his clean khaki pants.
"We are starting from the beginning, Miss."
"No use crying," Nora said, standing in the puddle.
"No use crying," he repeated.
"Hi, I'm Nora." She reached out her hand.
"Hi, I'm Henley." He lightly kissed it.
"Nice to meet you," Nora said. "Very nice to meet you."
They looked into each other's eyes and smiled. Then, Nora and Henley burst out laughing.
"That was a good one, Honey," Nora giggled. "The stock room? Did you really work in the stock room?"
Henley laughed. "Why yes, I did, Honey! I thought it was rather exciting! But you didn't have to go and spill the milk!"
"Sweetheart, you didn't have to spill it AGAIN!" Nora chimed as she got into the passenger's side of their car.
Henley took the keys and got into the driver's side.
They drove off into the moonlight, covered in chocolate milk, holding hands, and smiling. As their car pulled away from the parking lot, they could hear an announcement on the supermarket's intercom system.
"The pineapple rings, you never did that as a kid?"
"No, we just used them as life preservers for our Barbie dolls. So, Henley, do 'Clean up on Aisle Two.'" |
12,915 | Passionate Beginnings | "Bastian, wait up!" Tetriana exclaimed as she raced after her beloved boyfriend. "Bastian, this sand is hard to run in."
"Oh, be a man about it!" Sebastian replied as he ran farther down the beach carrying a blanket and picnic basket. He finally fell onto the sand, breathing rapidly. When Tetriana caught up to him, Sebastian spread the blanket out for them to sit on and swept Tetriana into his arms. "I promise, this will be the best date ever."
"That's what you said last time when you took me to that fancy restaurant."
"No, this time I mean it," Sebastian said seriously.
The star-crossed lovers then fell onto the blanket, and he began pulling things from the basket. First, two crystal wine glasses, a pair of white candles, and some plates. Then he lit the candles and set out some sandwiches. Finally, he pulled out a bottle of wine he had taken from his father's liquor cabinet.
"Bastian, are you sure about this?"
"Yes, my love, I'm dead sure. We won't get drunk. Just a little wine with our dinner." The two talked and ate their meal of sandwiches rather uneventfully. After they were finished, they stretched out on the blanket and watched the stars while they held onto one another.
"Hey, Bastian, let's go for a swim."
"What would we wear? I didn't bring my swim trunks."
"We can swim in our underclothes..."
"Mmmm...my little kitten is naughty tonight." At this, the young girl blushed.
"So shall we swim?"
"Most certainly, my love." The teenagers then began stripping off the majority of their clothes and ran down to the ocean's salty waters. Before they could react to the chilled water, the couple was up to their waists in the salty water.
"My God! This water is cold!"
"Bastian, this wasn't a good idea!"
"It isn't my fault. Let's get out. I'll build us a small fire so we can warm ourselves."
"O...okay," Tetriana said through chattering teeth. The two then started from the water. When they reached their blanket, Tetriana threw herself down and wrapped it around her. She glanced up and saw Sebastian's manhood, stiffening from the cold.
"Ummm...Bastian."
"Yes, my love?"
"I d..don't think we n..need a fire.."
"Are you insane? I'm freezing!" Tetriana unwrapped the blanket from about her, and Sebastian was able to see that she had removed her underclothes.
"Come here, Bastian. I'll keep you warm," she said, her voice husky with lust. At first, the poor boy looked frightened, then his shock wore off, and he removed his undies. He walked closer to the beautiful creature on the blanket and knelt down in front of her.
He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her into a gentle kiss. Her arms automatically wrapped themselves around his neck. Slowly, they began to lay back on the blanket. Tetriana's hands trailed down his back and came to a halt to squeeze his butt. Bastian's soft hands cupped her breasts as he moved over her body, tasting every bit of her essence. He suckled on her velvety nipples and then moved lower to her navel. There he flicked his tongue in and out of it, causing the girl to shudder with pleasure.
Lower he continued to travel until he buried his face into her sweet womanhood. A moan escaped Tetriana's lips as Sebastian nibbled her clit and flicked his tongue in and out of her pussy. "Bastian, take me now," the girl pleaded. Sebastian moved up and positioned himself before sheathing his massive sword deep within her hot, wet pussy. He pulsed slowly at first, and then their tempo increased. Soon the world was spinning, and the stars in the night sky seemed to explode. Their climax was rapid, and soon the two were panting on the beach, gripping each other tightly.
"I love you, Bastian."
"I love you, too." |
12,924 | Practice | "You're kidding!" Debbie was obviously amused, and I didn't like the way this was going. Nancy, who lives in the apartment across the hall, had just told her about our experience that very afternoon. You see, Nancy, who works in a doctor's office, had convinced Debbie and me that we ought not to put off having physicals. I'd just finished mine, but not without an embarrassing moment. After having been shown into the examination room, in walks Nancy, telling me to undress.
She didn't leave, either. She just stood there waiting.
"Uh, I feel funny doing this." I was slowly unbuttoning the first buttons of my shirt, so slowly, in fact, that I wasn't likely to be undressed before midnight.
"Whatever for?" She sounded genuinely surprised. I couldn't believe that she wouldn't see the oddity of the situation.
"Well, knowing you and everything."
She smiled, stifling a giggle. "Oh, is that it? I *am* a professional, you know. I *do* see men undressing every day and don't even think about it."
"Yes, but it's so weird... doing it in front of my next-door neighbor."
"Well, get over it. We can't wait here all day."
"Can't you just... have the other nurse, uh, take care of me?" She left, mumbling something as she went out the door. Another nurse came in a minute and asked me to undress to my underpants. She left while I was undressing, and well, the rest of my physical went along without incident.
But now Nancy was amusing Debbie with the story. "You really were too embarrassed to get undressed in front of Nancy?" she asked. I could see she was suppressing a laugh. How do I get myself into these things.
"Well, I don't think it's so strange..."
"Oh, honey, don't worry about it. You'll get over it by next time." She was still smiling.
"Actually, he'll probably be all-the-more nervous," piped up Nancy.
"Like waiting too long after you've fallen off a horse?" returned Debbie.
"It would do him good to work through this right away." Suddenly I felt a nervous twinge. These two were getting too many silly ideas.
"Well, what do you say, honey? Want to work on your problem?"
"You two are crazy!" I blurted.
"Definitely needs help," said Nancy.
"Come on, honey," added Debbie. She walked up to me and said more softly, "Not *man* enough to face up to your fears?" The grin she was hiding ate at me. "Do it!" she continued.
"We'll celebrate later," she whispered. "Do it."
Now she didn't look so amused. She looked serious. I stood there, staring at her but didn't say a thing.
"Good!" said Nancy as if it were all settled. Debbie walked back over to her. "Take off your shirt and undershirt," ordered Nancy. She used a business-like voice and also didn't seem to be laughing at me anymore. Debbie smiled an encouraging smile and nodded at me to go ahead. I took them off. I stood there, not believing I was doing this.
"OK, your shoes and socks," continued Nancy. They watched as I sat down and removed them.
"OK, stand up and take off your pants." I felt like this was it. I was wearing briefs and wouldn't be much hidden. I felt a lump in my throat, but I did it and stood up.
"Very good," said Nancy. Debbie looked a little surprised. I wondered if she would burst out laughing. "Turn around and face away from us," continued Nancy. I did it. Nothing. They were just looking at me?
Then I felt hands at my side, pulling down my briefs by the waistband. I was uncovered! Whichever it was left them around my knees. I felt someone move away again.
"You're doing very well," came Nancy's voice, "isn't he?" she added.
"Uh, ... yes!" Debbie sounded a little breathless. I stood there, not believing my predicament. I heard them walking and then they were in front of me, still keeping their distance.
"Good! Just stand there but spread your feet." I spread them until the briefs were stretched as far as they could go--not much, but a little more.
I know what you're thinking. Yes, I was beginning to get hard. They were both just staring at it.
"A little show!" Nancy finally added. "Don't worry, we get that often enough." It was definitely getting harder. Debbie was grinning.
"OK, that's enough of that," said Nancy, "take them off, go in the bathroom and take care of yourself. You'd better be soft when you come out." I couldn't believe this. I just stood there in shock.
"Well, honey, you heard her," added Debbie, still grinning, "or are you going to... ?"
"I said, take them off!" added Nancy. I finally did it and headed for the bathroom. I'm too embarrassed to go into that further, but I heard them talking while I was in there, and I finally came out again, still naked but soft.
"Well, I think he is coming right along," said Nancy. "You can get dressed again," she added, and she drew Debbie into the kitchen, leaving me alone.
That night Debbie was a wild woman--and I was definitely up again for it.Yes, it was dark and deserted, and no one was around, but anyone could walk around behind and run into us!
"Not quite trained, I see," she said. "Get undressed! Now!"
Yes, I did it and was soon there, standing nude with my clothes in a heap next to me.
"Well, you finally did it. And it looks like you're enjoying it, but we can't have that while you return. Take care of your hardon." She just watched and waited.
"I said take care of it! Jack off!"
Yes, I did it, right there in the back of the parking lot. And then she had me get dressed again, and I followed her back inside.
Debbie and Nancy were still sitting at the table. I looked at Debbie again... she looked a little scared. "Don't worry," said Susan, "I didn't come within 2 feet of him the whole time."
After we ate, we all left together. Susan wanted to show them where she took me. We were out back again.
"Well, show us how you stripped," said Nancy. The three of them stood watching me. Soon I was nude again.
"What do you think, Debbie?" asked Susan. Debbie giggled, sounding a little nervous. "Debbie, do *you* ever have trouble undressing in front of nurses?" she went on.
"Oh, no, that's just my husband."
"You sound a little reluctant. Why don't you show us?"
"No, I... I don't have any problem..."
"Well, then show us," Susan went on. "Show us and I'll believe you." Nancy didn't say a thing. "Just show us."
She sort of guided Debbie over to where I was standing.
"Take it off! Your *husband* can do it!"
She started doing it! Her blouse, shoes, shorts, bra, and panties. I stood there, amazed.
"Are you excited?" Susan asked, more quietly. She walked up close to Debbie, and I saw her hands go to Debbie's body. She withdrew in a flash.
"Better take care of that, Debbie," she said. "Both of you," she added. The two of them stood there watching us. Debbie looked at me, obviously nervous. She put one hand on her breasts and one to her crotch. I wrapped my hand around my cock again.
"Good," said Susan. Then she waited. We both did it -- brought ourselves off. I think we came at the same time.
"Now that's cute," said Susan, and she told us to get dressed again.
The next day when I got home, Nancy was there again. Debbie looked very nervous. There was a knock on the door, and I opened it to find Susan and another woman. She was younger, and Susan introduced her as Wendy, another nurse. I noticed Wendy looking at me.
"Well, show us how you get undressed," Susan said to me. Maybe I *was* losing some inhibitions--I was nude in seconds. I looked around. Wendy was staring at me. Debbie looked nervous.
"How about *Nancy*," said Wendy. Does *she* have these sorts of problems?
"Not me," said Nancy. I looked at her and was amazed at the expression on her face. I thought she might dart from the room.
"Show us!" said Susan, sweetly. She looked right at Nancy and grinned.
"I don't *have* any problem!" said Nancy, more vociferously. Susan and Wendy just stared at her for a few seconds.
"Then get undressed," said Susan, finally in a quiet voice. She did it! Soon it was Nancy and me standing there nude. Debbie was agog--I think she was surprised out of her nervousness.
"What do you think, Debbie?" asked Susan. Debbie was immediately tongue-tied. I think she thought they'd be ordering her to strip next. But Susan just laughed at her.
Susan told Nancy and me to lean over the dining table. I looked back to find her with rubber gloves and K.Y. jelly! She told us she was going to get us used to medical procedures!
She put jelly on my rear. "Relax," she said, and I felt her finger pushing. Probing. "Put your hands on the back of your neck," she said. I was getting hard. Still, she pushed and probed. Two fingers.
Then she was out, and I felt a sting on my ass. She had slapped it. Then she had another glove on and was doing the same thing to Nancy! I watched Nancy lay there with her hands on the back of her neck. Then I heard three slaps on her rear, and she jerked each time.
Then they had us get on our hands and knees in the middle of the floor. Debbie served them drinks, and it seemed like forever that we stayed there. I was so hard.
They asked Debbie for scarves. They had us stand up. They tied my hands behind my back, and they did the same to Nancy. Then they left, taking Nancy with them! Across the hall, still with her hands bound! They told Debbie to have fun.
As soon as the door closed, Debbie was immediately kneeling in front of me, my cock in her mouth. She was so crazy!
The day after that, coming home from work, I opened the front door and couldn't believe my eyes! Nancy and Debbie were both standing there, nude, with handcuffs on! Wendy was there with them, but I didn't see any sign of Susan. They were both gagged, too, with ball gags--obvious S&M paraphernalia. She had a belt in her hand, looped double, and was standing behind them.
She ordered me to strip, and I was nude in seconds. She handcuffed and gagged me and led me to standing next to the others. Then she led us into the bedroom and put us on our knees, laying over the edge of the bed. She put something on each of our ankles, binding them together, and then she invaded each of our rears with her rubber-encased fingers. She got two, then three, then four fingers in me!
Someone else entered the room. "My man likes girls *and* boys," I heard her say. |
12,200 | On the Holodeck | "Come on in, Jessie," the boss said as Jessie knocked on his door. "Please take a seat."
"What's up, Boss? Am I in trouble?"
"Not exactly. I'll cut straight to the chase. We are worried about you, Jess. Since... you know... since the accident, you've been less than your usual productive self."
"I'm doing my best, Boss. It's just hard to concentrate sometimes."
"In this business, Jessie, lack of concentration is a major problem."
"So what are you saying to me?" asked Jessie.
"We want you to take some time off. We think you need time to grieve. When Demi died, it was a shock to us all. But you tried to just carry on, against the advice of others. You need time to get over what happened properly."
"I can't take time off. What shall I do?"
"That's up to you. Find some way to help you get over Demi, take a vacation, spend all your time in a Holodeck, whatever. Just do whatever you need to come back here and back to working the way you did before."
"I can't afford to take time off."
"It'll be a paid sabbatical. You don't have a choice. As of tomorrow, I don't want to see you here for another month. Is that clear?"
Jessie arrived back at his house. What was he going to do for the next 30 days? All his material for his project was at work, so he couldn't do that. He didn't have enough credits for a holiday. His only option was to run an immersive Holodeck program. To try and "get away from it all".
"Computer, do you have enough data on file to create a facsimile of Demi Huskley?"
The computer answered in a soft, sensual female voice, "There is enough data on file to create an accurate physical facsimile of Demi Huskley."
"How accurate?" asked Jessie.
"To within 1%," the computer informed him.
"Then do it."
Slowly the image came into focus. Her long black hair cascaded down her back. Her breasts swelled out in a divine manner, and with her rounded hips, formed a delightful hourglass figure.
"Computer, much as I like seeing my wife naked, perhaps you should put some clothes on her."
"Select outfit," said the computer.
"Something casual... Jeans and T-shirt."
The clothes appeared on Demi's form, covering up her assets. Jessie was slightly disappointed, but at least he could look at her without a permanent hard-on. He walked around her static figure, admiring the way she looked.
"I always liked you in Jeans, Dee. Your ass fills them just right."
He walked back around to the front, smiling constantly.
"I wish I could talk to you. There's so much I need to tell you. I've missed the sound of your voice so much."
He stood admiring this copy of his dead wife. Suddenly he had an idea.
"Computer. Can you make her speak, so that I can have a conversation with her?"
"Yes. A copy of Demi Huskley's vocal pattern is on file. This can be used to simulate her voice."
"Do it. Have her interact with me."
Holo-Demi stood soundless.
"Did you miss me too?" Jessie asked.
"Yes." It was definitely Demi's voice, but it sounded hollow, emotionless.
"How have you been?" Jessie wanted her to reply in full, to have a conversation with her.
"I have been dead," said Holo-Demi. Jessie nearly broke into tears.
"Computer. You've got it wrong, this is all wrong."
"Is it not Demi Huskley's voice?" asked the computer.
"Yes, it's her voice, but she sounds like you. There's no emotion in her voice."
"It is what you asked for. An interactive copy of Demi Huskley using her vocal pattern," said the computer.
"That's not what I meant," said Jessie. "Could you incorporate the personality subroutine from 'Franklin Jones Investigates' into this program, and adapt it to produce a copy of Demi's personality?"
"It would require a large amount of data of the chosen subject," said the computer.
"Would 50 or so hours of home video data be enough?" asked Jessie.
"It would."
"Fine. I'll be back in 2 hours. Place Demi in the Martian restaurant program for when I return."
When he got back to the Holodeck, the program was already running. He opened the door and went in. The Martian Restaurant program created an atmospheric restaurant overlooking the red Martian skyline.
He approached the bar, and saw Demi sat on a bar stool wearing a slinky black velvet dress. She had two glasses in front of her filled with what looked like rum and coke.
She turned around to greet him as he approached. "Hi, Jessie. Where have you been? You're over five minutes late."
It was perfect. Exactly what the real Demi would have said.
"Sorry," he said, "Traffic."
"I got you a Malibu and Coke," she said, "Your favorite."
"Thanks," he said. He was speechless. After so long, here he was having a drink with the most perfect of God's creatures.
"You look radiant," he said, "and I love that dress on you."
"Thanks," she said with a smile, "I brought it specially."
The waiter walked up to them and coughed politely. "Your table is ready, Sir, Madame. If you would care to follow me."
He led the couple, walking arm in arm, to their table. They ordered food and wine, which came promptly. There wasn't much conversation between them as the night wore on. Jessie was just glad to be in the company of the woman he had loved for 12 years. They ate their meal, then danced the night away in the restaurant's disco.
At a quarter to one in the morning, the music from the disco slowed down to smoochy numbers as the place prepared to close for the night.
Demi and Jessie danced close. He held her tightly against him, cupping her ass cheeks in his hands. Her hands were around his neck as they kissed passionately, exploring each other's mouths with their tongues. He moved his hands up her body, following the contour of her hips. As his hands reached the swell of her breast, he moved his hands around to her back, then back down to her bum. He squeezed each cheek of her bum in turn. She moaned as they kissed.
The final song ended, and the couple left the dance floor to finish their drinks.The program was coming to an end, and Jessie didn't want to leave his wife.
"Computer," he said, "freeze program."
Everything around Jessie came to a standstill, even Demi. It was like standing in a waxworks museum.
"Computer, how much of this program is left?"
"You should escort your guest to her car, then the program ends."
"Shit," he paused, "Tell you what. Search the Adult files on the network. Find a program that involves two lovers going to a hotel room after a meal."
"Searching... Searching... Search complete. There are 6 such programs on file."
"Great," said Jessie, "Merge them into one and add it to the end of this program. Add in the adaptive subroutine I wrote, then continue the program."
The computer responded, "Working... Working... Working... Program complete."
As the computer voice faded away, the scene surrounding Jessie came back to life.
"Come on," said Demi, "Let's go back to the hotel and have another drink."
"Okay," said Jessie, "I'll get the coats and meet you outside."
That's what he did. He fetched the couple's overcoats from the cloakroom, then met Demi outside the restaurant, where she had already hailed a taxi.
"Quick," she said, "the meter's running."
Jessie jumped into the back seat of the cab beside Demi. As soon as he was in, the driver set off for their hotel. For the entire journey, Demi and Jessie made out in the back seat. They kissed, and their hands explored each other. The driver enjoyed the view in his mirror. By the time they got to their hotel, Jessie's erection made it difficult for him to walk. Demi noticed.
"What's wrong, Jess? A little excited?"
They made their way up to their room, groping each other in the elevator. No sooner had Jessie closed the door behind them after entering the room than Demi fell to her knees and pulled at the zip to his trousers. She reached inside and searched for his dick. She found it, and in its current state had a little trouble getting it out into the open.
"Hmm," she moaned as she examined the trouser snake. She looked at it from all angles, licking her lips in anticipation.
"I love you," she said, then slowly wrapped her lips over the head of Jessie's straining prick.
Jessie threw his head back and closed his eyes as she worked him over. The real Demi had loved to do this too. She slipped it into her mouth further, until it was all the way in, her nose touching his belly, and his balls hitting her chin. She stayed there, seemingly motionless, but inside her mouth, her tongue was furiously licking and stroking along the length of his shaft, and around the bulbous head.
She began to move her head back and forth, slowly at first, but then increasing pace as she used her hand to stroke it too. Her other hand cupped his balls, massaging them gently.
It had been a long time since Jessie had been in this situation, and he came quickly and with force. Demi swallowed every last drop, milking him dry. She took his shrinking dick out of her mouth and stood up in front of Jessie. She kissed him full on the lips, and he could taste his own sperm. She broke off from him.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you too," replied Jessie, breathless.
"How about that drink?" she said as she went over to the mini-bar, leaving Jessie standing by the door, his shriveled cock hanging out of his fly.
He tucked it back inside his pants and joined Demi, who was now sitting on the bed with two drinks. He sipped the drink as he stared into his wife's emerald green eyes. He was lost. In heaven. He had fallen in love all over again. He knew that this was bad for his mind, he was supposed to be trying to get over Demi's tragic death. Yet here he was about to make love to her for the first time in ages. Surely some psychologist somewhere would be able to justify it. He was saying good-bye.
They finished the drinks, and placed the empty cups on the floor. They looked at each other, and began kissing again. As they did, they also tried to undress each other. Demi pushed Jessie's jacket off, and began to unbutton his shirt. Jessie pulled the straps of her dress down off her shoulders. Demi ran her fingers through the hair on Jessie's chest as it was exposed by his open shirt.
He pulled her dress down, exposing her breasts, covered in a tiny black lace bra. He reached around her back and unclasped the snaps of the garment. It fell away, revealing the milky white domes, with their big pink nipples. Jessie's hands cupped her tits, and his fingers began to flick at her nipples.
She pushed his shirt off, throwing it to the other side of the room. Her hands fell to his belt buckle. She undid it, then opened up his trousers. Her hands went inside, searching for his dick. Meantime, he moved his head down and began to suck first at the left, then the right nipple.
She moaned, enjoying the sensation Jessie was giving her. She stood, and slowly she slid the dress all the way down, past her ankles, and she kicked it off to the side. Jessie looked at her admiringly. She wore no knickers. Smiling at Jessie, Demi lay down on the bed, her hands above her head and one leg lifted up, bent at the knee. The look in her eyes said just one thing, "Fuck me."
Jessie stood and got rid of his last remaining articles of clothing. Then he climbed up the bed to where Demi lay. As he reached her, she put her arms around his neck, and pulled his head towards her for a kiss. She parted her legs for him, and he reached down to guide himself inside her.
As his dick penetrated her, parting the red lips of her pussy, she gasped. Slowly he filled her up, pushing inside her as far as he would go, stretching her. He began to grind his hips against her, sliding back and forth. She moaned as he pulled out, and gasped as he forced his way back in. They kept a steady rhythm, and were lost to their own passion.
Presently, she rolled him over, trying not to separate from him as she did. She was now sat on top of him, straddling him. Once she was comfortable, she began to ride him. She started slowly, and increased in tempo as her pleasure grew. She built towards orgasm, and as it approached she began to buck wildly, impaled on Jessie's dick.
As she stopped cumming, she fell down on top of Jessie. Breathlessly she said, "I love you."
He said nothing, but kissed her hard for a few seconds. Then he rolled her over, moving his hands underneath her ass, lifting it to give him easier access. He was close to his own orgasm, and wanted to pound his beautiful wife as hard as he could. There was no slow build-up this time. He just rammed into her as fast as he could. His pace was furious, and with each inward stroke, Demi gasped loudly, as if the air was being forced out of her lungs.
Within minutes, he was shooting his sperm deep inside Demi's womb. He collapsed on top of her, exhausted.
"I love you, Demi," he said.
She rolled onto her side, and he scooped up beside her, draping his arm over her. As she fell asleep, the computer voice boomed around the room.
"This program has reached its conclusion."
"Damn," said Jessie.
He climbed out of the bed, Demi now motionless. As he dressed, he said, "Computer," then paused, "Save program as 'Demi 1'. I think I'll be running that again."
With that, he left the Holodeck as the hotel room, and Demi, faded and vanished. |
12,069 | AUSTRALIAN HOLIDAY | "So. You flew all the way to Australia, just to look up an old flame. You must still feel something for him," Lady Mowbray said.
"Yes. I suppose I do. But I came here for a holiday as well. I've not seen any of your beautiful country," Justine replied.
"No. And if things go according to plan, this is all you're going to see of it," thought Amanda.
But out loud, she said, "I see you brought all your luggage. Does that mean you are going to take up my offer of accommodation for a while?"
"Yes, please. If the offer is still open."
"Of course. Stay as long as you like."
"Or as long as I like," she thought.
Amanda rang a small bell. A few moments later, Madge appeared.
"Take our guest's bags up to her room."
"Yes, madam."
"Justine. Do you have any valuables, passport, travelers cheques and so on? I will put them in my personal safe if you like," Amanda asked innocently.
"Why yes. That would be really kind of you."
She took her passport and travelers cheques from her small overnight bag and handed them to Lady Mowbray.
"Got ya," thought Amanda.
"I'll put them in the safe right away. I'll be right back."
Amanda gave the passport and signed travelers cheques to the two girls in the kitchen.
"Right, you two. Get the photograph blown up. Then get Sasha to find one of her girls who looks like her, with a French accent. I am sure Sasha will have a matching wig in the brothel. Bring her back here in a couple of days. I'll have her clothes ready and Madge has the number of the hire car. We'll get the same driver who brought her to take her away. I'll book her a seat on a plane to the States. Once she gets there, she can disappear, ditch her disguise and come back on her own passport. The American cops will be chasing their own tails until they get fed up."
Amanda turned to Madge who returned from upstairs.
"Madge, get the herbal tea ready. Bring it in straight away."
"Yes, madam."
"Sorry to leave you like that. I see you have been admiring the family portraits. That one is the Marquis. A distant relative. I have the right to be called the Marquesa. But I prefer Lady."
Amanda sat beside Justine as Madge brought in the herbal tea.
"You must try this. I insist. It is a local aboriginal drink. It's very restful and relaxing." Amanda rang the little silver bell, but there was no need. The twins had been watching on the closed circuit TV and were already on their way, carrying the necessary equipment.
"Just take off her clothes and her shoes and be careful. We need them for her replacement."
The twins removed her shoes, vest, blouse, jeans and her silk knickers. They then gagged her with a piece of wooden doweling. It had eyelets screwed into each end. Pieces of cord led from the eyelets and were tied tightly at the back of her head. The wood cut into the corners of her mouth. She was sprawled in a leather armchair, her legs wide apart. A large dildo was pushed up her vagina. The twins each held an arm above her head.
"Good." Amanda took up the Polaroid camera and snapped her.
"Okay. Put the cuffs on her wrists and ankles and put a collar on her. I'm going to deliver this."
Jason heard a noise and then saw something pushed under his door. He struggled to his feet. After some frustration, he managed to turn the Polaroid over with his toes.
"My god! They've got Justine."
The shock was almost physical. He felt a great depression. The cruel way she was gagged showed that she was in for a terrible time. Even worse, they could use her to torment him.
Justine awoke to find herself tightly hog-tied and still gagged with the wooden bit. She lay on her side, on a mattress. Amanda was kneeling beside her, running her hands through her soft, silky hair. It was a very sensuous feeling. Justine's big brown doe eyes were shining with tears.
Jason's tears formed a puddle on the glossy surface of the Polaroid. He couldn't bear to look and sulked back to his mattress. He was still in love with Justine and for the past couple of years had fantasized about marrying her and running off to Paris to grow old together.
Jason had always imagined surprising his beloved, sharply dressed with the very same tie that Justine gave him back in college as a way of saying thanks for helping her study for an economics test. He saved that turquoise tie and brought it to Australia with his best charcoal gray suit. He hoped to wear a yellow rose as a lapel and give his former girlfriend the other eleven from the bouquet.
Jason spent a week tutoring her in college, which is how they first met and gave her a bouquet of yellow roses on their first official date. Jason, a romantic, felt the symbols might rekindle something special. He wanted more than a torrid affair with Justine. He wanted a future with her.
As he contemplated all this, Jason lay on his back with the penis gag lodged down to his tonsils, his wrists shackled together, and his orgasm control belt firmly secured. He was due to be fed and watered shortly, so he patiently waited.
In the adjoining room, Amanda played with her newest acquisition, as a cat might play with a mouse.
"Can't hold your tea, I see, Justine. You should have told me that you don't like it so strong. Mental note - 'no narcotics for Justine.' There, that shall never happen again, I assure you," Amanda teased.
The gag had smeared Justine's lipstick. It was all over her face and on the wood itself where it cut into the corners of her mouth. After Amanda ransacked the young woman's handbag, she saved some items including lipstick.
"Here, baby, let me fix that for you," Amanda said as she took a moist towelette and wiped the lipstick from Justine's frightened face.
Justine jerked her head back at first, but Amanda spoke to her gently, soothingly, and the French girl lay still. With her mouth stretched like it was, it was fairly easy for the Marquesa to apply a thick coat.
"I want to keep that mouth of yours in good shape. It will be quite busy in the future," said Amanda breathily into her captive's face.
The look in Justine's eyes aroused her new Mistress, and soon Amanda's right hand found itself idly stroking her privates. Her middle finger did some exploring and ventured up into her musky crevice. She removed the digit and the light from the overhead bulb shone on her fingertip, moist with pussy dew. Amanda, still kneeling, offered the treasure to Justine's doe eyes.
"Sweets for the sweet?" Amanda inquired.
Justine shook her head from side to side. But that didn't deter her Ladyship. Amanda leaned forward and spread the love juice on her captive's face, on the skin between the nose and the upper lip. She also worked some into the girl's nostrils, holding two fingers inside sadistically. With the dowel gag and Amanda's fingers, Justine struggled to breathe. When the Marquesa felt her new prisoner was on the verge, she removed her digits and allowed Justine to breathe in her essence deeply.
"Breathe, my pet. I am delicious, aren't I. Get used to that scent. I intend to blindfold you and teach you to recognize the unique scents of many friends of mine."
Justine closed her eyes tightly while not more than ten feet away, Jason was given his lunch. It felt good to the young man to finally feel his tongue again. That cursed gag was intolerable. The gruel was lapped up in record time as Susie and Sarah wheeled in a new item in their bag of tricks. Jason looked up from his knees at what appeared to be a white portable plastic toilet with chrome legs.
"Yes, Jenny, this is all for you," exclaimed Susie as Sarah waved the oversized funnel accessory.
"On your back, sweetcheeks, you must be thirsty," Sarah remarked.
Hesitantly, Jason lay down as Sarah pushed the tubular part of the funnel into Jason's mouth and Susie moved the toilet over his head. The twins attached the funnel to the seat and made sure the whole device was solid.
"Me first, I gotta pee real bad," Susie interjected and hopped on before a dejected Sarah even had a chance.
It was like musical chairs to the teenagers and Sarah felt that she had lost. Susie was like a girl scout - always prepared. Her panties were off before she even entered the room.With the large funnel blocking his vision, Jason couldn't even see the scrumptious sight before him. Susie's sweet ass wriggled on the seat as she relaxed her bladder.
"Past the lips, over the gums, look out stomach here it comes!"
Susie's golden stream swirled around the funnel and flushed down the tube into Jason's waiting mouth. This time, spilling a drop was not an option. Anything Jason couldn't swallow, he would simply choke on. Susie had evidently saved up for this moment. Her stream lasted for over a minute until it finally sputtered down to a trickle. Jason drank every salty drop.
"Time for Elixir d'Sarah," the other sister said as they switched places.
"Down the hatch!"
"Cheers!"
"Salute!"
The twins were obviously enjoying themselves. Sarah helped Jason wash down his breakfast with her potent nectar as Susie rubbed her fingers along the scar on the underside of the slave's penis. It was hard 24 hours a day, just like the doctor promised, at least until the batteries ran out. Jason's belly soon distended with the golden fluid.
Sarah pulled away the toilet as Susie removed the funnel. They put it in a corner, obviously intending to get a lot of use out of it.
Sarah started: "Jenny, Lady Mowbray wants you to get used to the taste of our pee. She wants you to be able to tell the difference between the pee of many different women. Sort of like a connoisseur of fine wine...."
"Only this is the finest!" Susie interjected.
The twins glanced at each other and smiled.
Over in the next room, Amanda was also smiling. She slowly pulled out the large dildo from Justine and was very happy to find it so slick.
"Enjoying ourselves aren't we?" Amanda enthused. "I didn't suspect you as a closet lesbian but here's the proof," she said as she waved the dildo.
Amanda sniffed the phallus and seductively licked it. She then untied Justine's gag and before a cry could be heard, roughly shoved it into her new slave's mouth. It had a ring at the base which allowed Amanda to snugly tie it in place.
"You are a sweet dish, I must admit. Have you ever tasted your own cooking before, Justine? Bon appetite!"
Amanda left the French girl to contemplate in privacy and eagerly walked next door to Jason's room. |
12,617 | Our First (and only) Swing | "Ohmygod!" shouted Scott. "How long have you been awake?" "Long enough," said Kristen. "I was aware of you all when you came back to the sofa. That was quite a show you three put on." Scott was visibly shaken and grabbed a pillow off the sofa to cover himself. On the other hand, Kristen was playing it cool, though she was still apparently drunk. "From what I heard," she continued, "you and Hap made some kind of deal. What was that all about?" "Nothing, nothing at all," stammered Scott, obviously thinking he was about to wind up in divorce court.
Kristen just looked at the three of us. We were naked, and Allyson was covered in cum. She and I didn't know what was going to happen next. Then Kristen said, "Watching you all fuck really got me wet. How about it, honey? Want to watch your wife get fucked, too?" Scott was still shaken. He didn't mind ripping off a piece of my wife, but was reluctant to return the favor. I was a little angry at this, and said, "Yeah, friend, how about it?" Allyson even chimed in with, "Yeah, what's good for the goose is good for the gander!" Scott was outnumbered, so there wasn't much he could do except leave, and he didn't want to do that. "Okay," he said, "but I didn't get to fuck Allyson, so if you fuck Kristen, I get another shot." "No problem," Allyson said, and reached over and started stroking Scott's cock again.
I looked over at Kristen, and she pulled the little black dress over her head, stepped out of her panties, and sat down on my naked lap. My cock began to twitch and found its way between her cheeks as I began to grow hard again. I reached around and began to caress her large breasts, kneading the stiff nipples between my fingers. "Mmmm... nice," she whispered into my ear as she wriggled her butt onto my cock. Meanwhile, Allyson led Scott off the couch and down to the floor, where she spread his legs and proceeded to suck him hard again.
Kristen turned and kissed me, pulling me with her onto the sofa. My hands covered her naked body, and finding her pussy already wet from watching the three of us earlier, I plunged my middle finger into her. I kept finger-fucking her while I kissed her, then slowly worked my way over her breasts, down her belly until I got to her neatly trimmed little blonde snatch. I let my hot breath waft over it, then pulling her legs apart, removed my finger and replaced it with my tongue. As I felt her hard little clit, I looked over to see Allyson now impaled on Scott's cock. She had her eyes closed, and was slowly raising herself almost to the end, then sliding back down. From the way she was biting her lip, I knew she was enjoying it.
Kristen then brought me back to what I was doing as she grabbed my head and pushed me deeper into her cunt. Her first orgasm broke over her like a wave crashing into the shore, then pulled back into the sea and crashed again. She had four separate climaxes, all the while holding me in so tight I almost couldn't breathe, but what a sweet-tasting pussy! After she finished the four, I got up and moved over her, offering my hard dick to her. She took it hungrily, and I fucked her mouth until I was about to cum. As much as I wanted to fill that sweet mouth, I wanted her pussy more, so I pulled out. I turned Kristen over onto all fours, and got behind her. I gave her honey pot a few more good licks, then placed the knob of my dick on her crack. I ran it up and down a few times, and by this time she was begging for me to ram it in. I was happy to oblige. I pounded her as hard as I could. I knew since I had cum in Allyson earlier, I would be able to last longer in Kristen, so I slowed down and began a nice gentle rocking rhythm, my balls slapping against her clit while I fondled her large hanging breasts. Kristen buried her face in a pillow as she came twice more before I finally emptied myself into her.
Meanwhile, Allyson and Scott had finished up their fucking, with Scott pulling out of her quim just as he let go, giving my wife a beautiful cum bath. They joined Kristen and me on the sofa, and we all held each other, licking and stroking and basking in the afterglow of a monumental fuck session. The girls even kissed each other and fondled each other for a little while, but we were all pretty well spent by that time. Allyson and I got cleaned up, thanked our friends for an unforgettable evening (to say the least!) and drove home.
The events described really did happen, but the names have been changed. This was the only time Allyson and I made love to another couple. We are dedicated to each other and look back on it as something that just happened when the circumstances and timing were right. Both Scott and I had had vasectomies, so impregnation wasn't a factor. Even so, we would never consider doing something like this today, especially without condoms. |
12,660 | The Bellboy | "Just a minute!" you called out, then you slipped out of bed and wrapped your gown around you. You turned to me. "I'll be right back--don't go away."
I grinned. "Like--I'm going somewhere?" I said.
You chuckled at me and headed for the door.
After opening it, you saw the Bellboy, a young lad probably in his late teens or early twenties. Rather handsome, too.
"This your bag, ma'am?" he inquired, motioning to a suitcase beside him that did indeed look like my own. At the same time, you couldn't help but notice that his gaze just happened to fall on the gap from your breasts in your gown.
You bent over, turned over the label. "Yes, it is. There's my name. Please, bring it in and set it on the dresser."
"Yes, ma'am."
You opened the door a bit wider and the Bellboy carried the bag in and set it on the dresser. As he turned to leave, your gown accidentally fell open without you realizing it, and he stopped in his tracks to stare at your exposed breasts and pubic area.
His eyes were wide and he swallowed a lump in his throat.
I watched, bemused, from the bed.
"Uh--" was all he could say.
Then you saw what he was looking at. "Oh, my! I am sorry. Didn't realize--"
"Excuse me, ma'am..."
He made for the door.
"Just a minute--" you reply as you reach for your purse.
The Bellboy stopped and turned. Already you could see a lump in his pants. In fact, I was getting rather hard on the bed, but you couldn't see that.
"Come here," you said, but the Bellboy didn't move. "Come here--I'm not going to hurt you!"
He kind of staggered over to you. You pulled your hand out of your purse, lifted up his hand and placed a fiver in it. "That's for you," you said.
The Bellboy stared at the fiver, then before he knew what had happened, you were on your knees in front of him. In a matter of a couple of seconds, you had tugged down his zipper, reached in and pulled out his hard young cock.
He drew in his breath quickly, not sure what to do. But by then he couldn't do anything because you'd already wrapped your succulent lips around his bulbous cockhead, sliding your lips up and down his throbbing shaft.
I couldn't believe how much this was turning me on. My own cock was hard as a rock and I could feel the thumping of my blood coursing through its veins. I got off the bed, went behind the Bellboy and began to undo his coat and shirt.
Wide-eyed and speechless, he looked up at me. "It's okay, son," I said, "just enjoy the ride..."
I got his coat and shirt off, undid his belt and pushed his pants to the floor. His cock poked out of the fly of his underwear and you took your mouth off him so I could pull them down.
You guided him over to the bed, laid him down. Then, your pussy already dripping wet with dew, you straddled his thighs, nestled yourself down onto his cock. He moaned with pleasure, and you groaned with the feel of his thick rod sliding in and out of your cunt.
Now I climbed onto the bed. You supported yourself with your hands on the bedhead, as I lubricated your bum with my finger, rubbing around the rim, then slowly poking my finger into your hole.
You continued to ride the Bellboy's cock and I could tell he was finally getting into it now as he began to thrust upwards in time to your gyrations.
I stopped your hips for a moment, pressed my cockhead against your bumhole, then firmly began to ease it in. You groaned aloud with the feel of the pressure and I pushed some more until my cockhead slipped suddenly into your hole. Now I began to shove back and forth, and the Bellboy began his movements again, all three of us gradually taking up a rhythmic motion--he thrusting into your cunt as I pulled back from your ass, my shoving in, he pulling back....back and forth, in and out, back and forth, in and out....
Suddenly you cried out in rapture as your orgasm exploded from both ass and cunt. Then the Bellboy and I, both of us catching the quavering of your body, both of us began to cum, too, and you felt our hot cum gushing out in rhythmic spasms deep into your cunt and ass, both of our cocks slipping and sliding through the rivulets of jism......
A short while later, after he had dressed and was ready to leave, I gave the Bellboy an extra tip.
But he handed the money back to me. "Thank you, sir, but that isn't necessary. Believe it or not, I was a virgin up till now. Thanks for a wonderful, thrilling experience. I doubt I'll ever have one like that again."
"Well--" I said, looking over at you.
You shrug and smile. "Maybe next time we're in town--?"
The Bellboy blushed and left.
"So," I said after flopping down on the bed beside you. That has virtually worn me out. What would you like to do now?" |
12,541 | The Adventures Of Ultra Woman And Mega Girl | "Hmm," Jackie murmured as she looked at a few of the drawings. "Most of these are pretty good."
"You really think so?" Jo asked, her eyes lighting up.
"Yes, I do," Jackie answered, surprised at the level of professionalism in Jo's work. The girl had definite talent -- that was sure. If it wasn't for the fact that she might be faced with laying off staff in a few months if sales didn't improve, she might consider hiring Jo as a staff artist. She was certainly better than some of those she inherited from her uncle.
"You are talented," Jackie repeated. "Didn't they tell you that when you went to any of the other comic companies?"
"Oh, I haven't gone to any other companies," Jo replied with a new confidence in her voice. "I wanted to come here first."
"Why here?" Jackie asked out of curiosity. Usually the kids hit the big companies first.
"I grew up reading Creative Comics," Jo grinned. "I used to dream about writing and drawing my own and having them appear under the CC Logo."
"I guess we should be honored." Jackie smiled back. In her mind, she was trying to think of the best way to let this talented girl down. "We're pretty well staffed here right now," Jackie lied as she looked at a few more drawings. "You might want to try some of the other companies and..."
Jackie paused in mid-sentence as she opened a thick sketchbook. Laid out throughout it was the equivalent of at least a half dozen completed issues of a comic. The title on the front page was "The Adventures of Ultra Woman and Mega Girl."
"What's this?" Jackie asked.
"That's just a strip that I created for fun," Jo said. "I forgot it was in there," she added a little embarrassed.
"I think this is very good," Jackie said as she flipped through the pages. "Very good indeed."
"It is?" Jo asked in surprise.
Jackie was indeed impressed. Every aspect of creation was there. Pencils, inks, coloring, lettering - all of it done professionally.
"How long does it take you to do a page?" Jackie asked.
"You mean doing everything?" Jo asked, to be answered by a nod of Jackie's head.
Her answer made up Jackie's mind. Even if it meant firing some of the useless jerks her uncle had kept on staff, she was going to hire Jo Simon.
"Well, I couldn't offer you a lot, at least at first," Jackie smiled. "But what would you think of this as a starting salary?" She asked as she wrote down a figure on a blank piece of paper.
"Oh yes!" Jo gushed as she looked at the figure on the paper. It was more money than she was earning in Taylor's Dry Goods back home.
"It's really not a lot," Jackie admitted. "Especially if you plan to live here in the city. But you would gain a lot of experience and hopefully, in time, I'd be able to increase it."
"I'll take it," Jo said. "When can I start?"
"How about you come in Monday morning and we'll get you settled in," Jackie said. "I'll see what department I think you should start out in."
"Oh, thank you, Ms. Kirby," Joanna said, her voice filled with the excitement of a dream come true.
"Do you mind if I keep this for the weekend?" Jackie asked as she held the homemade comic. "I'd like to read it and see if you're as good a writer as you are an artist."
"Okay," Jo said a little hesitantly. It was obvious that she didn't really want Jackie to read the story but wasn't about to risk her new job.
"Fine, then I'll see you early Monday morning," Jackie said as she escorted her new employee out the door. |
12,302 | My Weekend in Portland | "Forget that order," I said, as Ruth hesitated. "I have another idea."
"Yes, Mr. K-----," she said. I shook my head impatiently.
"Don't call me master. That makes me feel like I'm in some stupid sitcom." Then I recalled the eagerly submissive way she acted toward her boss, invariably addressed as "Mr. Tucker."
"Call me Mr. K-----," I said, substituting my last name for Tucker's, and she nodded.
"Yes, Mr. K-----," she said.
Taking Ruth by the hand, I sat her down in a wing chair by the fireplace and settled into a facing chair. Then, for more than an hour, I grilled her quietly but insistently about every detail of her sex life. She was intensely embarrassed through much of my interrogation, alternately blushing and turning pale as I extracted her most intimate secrets. Once I had to remind her she was my slave, so she was not entitled to withhold any secrets. Ruth tried to sit still, but sometimes squirmed in her chair, and her nipples were often erect.
I learned her breasts and pubic hair began to appear when she was 10, and she started menstruating soon afterwards -- much to her baffled horror. Her family was one of those that didn't discuss sex. By 14, she was wearing C-cup bras and fending off groping hands from classmates, teachers and even her parent's friends. Ruth lost her virginity at summer camp when she was 15, to a counselor who dumped her while his load was still dripping down her legs.
Unfortunately, she got pregnant from that brief encounter and her furious parents insisted on an abortion. They also severely restricted her contact with boys through high school. Away from home for college she had several brief relationships before connecting with a guy almost as repressed as she was. For two years their sex life consisted of him mauling her breasts and pussy through her clothes, while she jacked him off through his clothes. She was convinced they would get married after graduation, but he dumped her soon afterwards.
Over the ensuing years, a series of relationships ended when the guys involved found they couldn't get to first base -- ever. One of those relationships ended in a date rape she had been too horrified to report to police. Horrified because she hated being forced, and enjoyed it at the same time. Much of the struggle, the ripping of clothes and squeaking of bedsprings, and her groans of pleasure, somehow got recorded on the answering machine by her bed. That tape was still one of her most prized, and despised, possessions.
Ruth began to cry silently while telling me about the date rape. Most of her tears rolled down her cheeks, but an occasional droplet fell onto her full breasts. I loved the way her teardrops followed the curve of her tits.
"I WANTED to make love with him!" she said of the rapist. "I really cared about him. I tried to go a little farther each time we had a date. He played with my breasts a lot. But whenever he tried to get inside my pants, I just froze. I panicked and made him stop.
"At first he was understanding, but I could never explain why I couldn't go any further," Ruth said quietly. "He stopped calling and I got desperate. I called and told him I wanted to go all the way. He came over and we started making out on the couch. He opened my blouse and my bra, and that was okay. It was wonderful when he played with my nipples. He took off my pants, and that was fine. But when he tried to take off my panties, I panicked again and stopped him.
"He just looked at me for a minute, then grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the bedroom. I tried to fight but he was too strong. He threw me on the bed, ripped off my panties, and forced himself inside me. I was so wet, it didn't even hurt. He came in a couple of minutes."
"What then?" I prompted.
"I was furious and I was humiliated," Ruth said. "I thought about calling the police. But I kept remembering how good it felt when he first pushed inside me, and the next time, and every time. After a couple of weeks had passed, it made no sense to call the police.
"I waited and waited for him to call again," she said, "but he never did."
Ruth's mysterious transfer from New York City to Portland resulted when her boss there became sexually obsessed with her. When he degenerated to the point of groping her breasts in meetings, she sued and won a considerable cash settlement along with a promotion and transfer to the West Coast. Her obsessed former boss had been "exiled" to a sales district in Florida where he spent most of his days golfing with clients.
"Have you ever sucked your own nipples?" I asked, continuing my interrogation.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I couldn't. That would be too nasty," Ruth said, blushing deeply.
"Have you ever sucked a man's penis?"
"No. Except..."
"Except what?"
"The man who raped me made me suck his penis when he was finished."
"Did you enjoy that?"
"Yes... no. I mean no."
"Do you ever masturbate?"
"Yes, sometimes."
"How often?"
"Once or twice a week. Whenever I can't stand it."
"Can't stand what?"
"Can't stand not touching my pussy."
"Do you come when you're masturbating?"
A pause, "No. Once."
"Can't you make yourself come more often?"
"I can't. It's too..."
"You just stop when you get close to coming?"
"Yes."
"What do you do then?"
(End of Chapter 3) |
11,732 | sex sister 3 | "Now, girls, we are going to go on a little ride." "The sisters will help you get ready."
Several sisters brought out a large collection of leather corsets, boots, and dark stockings. Busy hands placed the corsets around the naked torso of the pledges. Nipples were pinched, and butts were grabbed while all of this was going on. The corsets barely covered the nipples and left most of the asses exposed. The naked pussy was only covered by the length of the corset, but anyone below waist level would have seen the clean-shaven lips. Long, shiny boots were pulled onto the feet of the young, scared girls. When the dressing was done, the seven girls looked like a chorus line from bondage heaven. Their hands remained behind them in the handcuffs, which helped to push their breasts up in the cups.
"Get into the van in the garage," Mimi ordered. The older sisters put their purple robes back on, but the pledges wore only what they had on. There were no windows in the van, and they drove out to the suburbs in the large vehicle. Soon they were in the suburbs north of San Diego. They pulled into the parking lot of a small liquor store next to an adult book store and theater. A massage parlor completed this run-down shopping center. Only a few cars were in the lot. The president of the sorority turned to Stacy. "Stacy, you will go get some beer for the girls; here's some money."
"But I'm practically naked, and my hands are tied," Stacy protested. "How can I do that?"
"So you are. Now, get." Mimi took some money and shoved it down the front of the leather corset. The van door slid open, and Stacy slowly got out into the cool night air. She darted into the store, and she knew her whole face was red. The young man behind the counter almost fainted when the leather-bound, almost-naked goddess entered the store.
"Give me some beer, quick," Stacy said, breathing hard. The clerk fumbled around with the bag but kept his eyes on the heaving breasts of the blonde babe.
"That's eight dollars," he whispered to her. "Where's your money?"
"It's in my corset. I guess you'll have to get it since my hands are tied."
"I don't see any money," stammered the teenage boy. "Your tits are so big, I can't see anything."
"Put your fingers down there and get it," Stacy told him in a soft, sexy voice.
The clerk looked at the corset but saw no visible money. He tried to get his hands between the tan flesh but found it too tight. Undoing the lacing and clasps of the top allowed him to finally reach the money, but this also allowed Stacy's hot pink nipples to pop into view. The cut of the leather pushed them out over the edge. The young man could hardly count the money, and a bulge was growing in his jeans.
"You don't have enough here," he told her. "The case is eight dollars, and there is only five here."
"But I only have five," Stacy whimpered.
"Then I guess you'll have to work it out in trade, is that ok?" came a voice from the door. It was the senior leader with a devilish smile on her face. "If that is ok with you," she smirked at the clerk.
"Sure," he gulped.
"Go ahead, Stacy, suck this poor boy's cock and pay for the beer," ordered the older girl.
Stacy went behind the counter, and the clerk helped her get down on her knees. The clerk fumbled with his zipper and then pulled his pants open to reveal a huge cock. As soon as Stacy's open mouth touched the flesh, it grew and grew until it was throbbing at its full 10 inches. "Suck him off good, pledge." "Let's see how much of that nice cock you can take." Stacy knew this was one thing she did well. Her uncle had been a good teacher. Opening her pink lips even more, she slowly let the hot flesh enter her throat. The large head of his cock was now touching the back of her throat, and she had to breathe through her nose. Slurping sounds grew loud as she increased the suction on the male organ. She let her teeth lightly scrape but barely touch the hot flesh. Her tongue was swishing against the large head of the prick. Stacy knew how to give a mean blow job, and she was going to show the leader of the gang how good she was. Her head moved side to side and back and forth, and she knew that it would not be long for this poor victim to blow his load of cream. He was moaning and whispering about how much he loved her. When he let out a yell, Stacy knew that the cum was here. It blasted against the back of the throat. It tasted good and salty, and she swallowed eagerly. Some of the hot load was running down her mouth and dripping from her chin onto her large tits. Her mouth was clamped around the fleshy head, and she wanted to keep it there.
A hand went under her arms, and she was pulled up. "That's enough for that miserable man, pledge," the senior told her. "Get back in the van." They left the store, leaving the clerk with his pants around his ankles and a dazed look on his face. The girls in the van took the beers that Stacy had earned. The senior grabbed Stacy's face and gave a tongue kiss. "Nothing like beer and cum, right, pledge?"
Arcy could only stare at her friend. Her boobs were hanging free in the night air, and there was a white cream on her chin. Her eyes were full of fire, though, and she knew that Stacy had passed her test. |
11,759 | Summer of Sin | "I want to fish too," I said.
"You can't, dear. You don't have a penis," Pauline answered. Her voice was languid. She sounded bored. I gazed with inquisitive eyes at the men. John, Brad, and Steve all sat on a couch in the living room. There was a fish tank on the floor. Multicolored tropical fish swam in the tank. Each man sat with his penis hanging erectly over the side of the tank. A fishing line was tied around each man's dick. At the end of each line, down in the submerged depths of the fish tank, was a barbed hook. On the hook, a fresh nightcrawler wiggled.
"They aren't biting," Steve said.
"Don't wiggle your dick around so much," Paul said.
"I want to fish!" I said again. I crouched on the floor, beside the tank. My hands clutched its glass walls, along the top.
"She could, you know," my aunt said. She was sitting on a pillow. Her well-lotioned bottom was hidden from our view, but it was still red from my whipping. My own fanny bore the marks of John's discipline. It didn't hurt as much now, but there were several weals that would take a while to heal. I let go of the fish tank and rubbed my bare ass. It stung. I winced. John looked up from the end of his penis and laughed at me.
"You're wicked," I told him.
"You won't call me names anymore," he said.
"You're right," I said glumly. I pouted.
"You look pretty when you pout," John said.
"Let me fish. Can I play with your fishing pole?" I asked John.
"Tie string to her nipples. Then she can fish," my aunt told Pauline.
"Of course!" Pauline said. "You're quite inventive, Rebecca."
"But I want to play with *his* fishing pole!" I said, pointing to John's dick.
"No, you're not playing with my husband's penis," Pauline said. "He's going to need all of his sperm for tonight, when he gets married to Chrissy." She picked up the ball of fishing line. "Do you want bait, or a real worm?" Pauline asked me.
"Yuck!" I said. "I don't want a real worm. They're yucky!"
"Which hook do you want, then?" Pauline asked. There was a collection of them laid out on a soft towel, on the carpet. Next to the ersatz baits was a can with worms in it. Pauline's fingers passed over the can of worms and fingered the nearest bait.
"Give me a pretty one," I said. "Two pretty ones, since I have two nipples."
"She gets to fish with two lines?" Brad asked, looking up from his penis.
"She's a girl. She won't catch anything," John said dismissively. "I told you not to wiggle your dick around. The fish will never bite your line if you do that."
"I can't help it. I'm horny as hell," Brad said.
"After my wife and Chrissy both blow-jobbed you this morning?" John asked.
"Yes," Brad said. There was a look of desperation in his eyes. He looked at me, pleadingly.
"Nope," I said.
Pauline knelt down next to me. She made me turn towards her so she could tie fishing line around my nipples.
"What do you mean, 'nope'?" Brad asked me.
"I know what you're thinking," I said to him.
"What?" Brad asked.
"You want to fuck me," I said. "And I bet I know where you want to put it, too."
"Where?" Brad said.
"Don't wiggle your line," John told Brad again.
"Up my bottom," I said.
"So, let's do it," Brad said. He began to rise.
"Nope," I told him.
"Sit down," John said. He was sitting next to Brad. He clutched at Brad's penis and forced him to sit back down, bare-assed, on the sofa.
"I've got to cum," Brad said.
"Not in me!" I shouted. "I'm fishing."
"For God's sake. Go whack off in the bushes if you need it that bad," Steve swore. "You keep wiggling your dick around and it's scaring the fish!"
"Nobody is going to cum again until I do," John said. He looked at Steve. "And tonight we're getting married."
"Not to each other," Steve said.
"I could marry every one of you fucks and fuck you in every hole you've got," John said.
"John! Don't be rude," Pauline told her husband. She tied fishing line to my right nipple. It made a pretty bow. Then she tied a hook onto the end of my line. "Be careful with this," she told me. "I don't want it cutting your pretty skin."
"My bottom's already cut," I said ruefully. Pauline dropped the plastic bait, with the hook built into it, in the fish tank. The water rippled.
"You only have a few welts, that's all," Pauline told me. "My husband didn't cut your skin when he whipped you. It wasn't that kind of whipping."
"She almost cut mine!" Rebecca said.
"I didn't know what I was doing," I said. "I never whipped anyone's bottom before."
"It hurts when I sit down," Rebecca told me.
"Sorry," I said.
"You'll both be better in a few days, if not well before then," Pauline said. "There. I've tied on the other line, Chloe." She plopped it in the water. I pressed my belly to the fish tank. Flatness of glass upon flatness of flesh. I looked over the edge of the tank and saw my belly button through the glass.
"This is fun," I said, jiggling my bosoms. My bait wiggled in the water.
"Don't wobble your boobs around," John told me. "You'll scare the fish."
The moon rose. We stood before a makeshift altar. I wore a dress that was rucked up in back to show my bottom. The welts were receding. They were just faint pink lines now. I had a daisy in my hair. I was best lady at the wedding.
Rebecca was the priest. She wore a dog's collar around her throat. A black vest, open in front, hung over her shoulders, showing her shoulders, her belly, her boobs. Her nest was uncovered. Her legs were long and bare, but she wore high heels. She was a most unusual priest.
Brad was best man. He wore a black-tailed coat that John had insisted be raised in back, so that his cute buns could be seen. In front, his penis stuck out lewdly. His balls swung freely between his legs.
Pauline and Chrissy stood next to each other, before Rebecca. They turned and kissed briefly as Rebecca opened a hymn book to read out the marriage ceremony. Their bushes showed. Their bosoms peeped over the rim of their corsets, their nipples just visible. The tips of each woman's breasts stuck forth lewdly. Whenever they moved, or breathed, their nipples stirred the decorative lace fringe on the top of each of their corsets.
Next to Chrissy stood John. He held her arm possessively. His cock protruded from underneath a black formal coat. He wore a bow tie. There were shoes on his feet, well-polished by the slave boys, but his legs were bare. Steve was dressed in the same fashion, his cock showing, his ass displayed by the rucking up of his coat in back, his legs naked. Only John's butt was covered, by the tails of his long black coat. Everyone else offered their bottom to the view of the others.
We faced the altar. Rebecca faced us. Dressed as girls, the two slave boys waited at the end of the room, holding rice. They had flowered dresses on. There were bright ribbons in their hair. They both wore veils of white. Under their dresses, I knew they were hard as stone, their balls full. They were eager for sex, and I wondered if they'd get to fuck the bride, or her bride's maid. John told them to do just as he ordered, and to throw the rice properly, or they'd be made to entertain us afterwards by fucking each other.
Rebecca picked up a squirt gun. It was filled with white wine. She directed it at Chrissy's bush. She pulled the trigger. A long stream of wine jetted forth. It struck Chrissy's bush and wetted it. Rebecca kept squirting until all the wine in the squirt gun was gone. Chrissy's bush was drenched. The small curled hairs of it hung down wetly.She dripped on the floor.
"Do you, Chrissy, take John here to be your unlawfully wedded husband?" Rebecca asked with a giggle. Chrissy gulped.
"I do," Chrissy managed to say. I understood her fear. At the last minute, it had been agreed that the marriage would have one very important added feature. Though it was a lewd marriage, giving Chrissy to John, and Pauline to Steve, it would also be a ceremony that bound each lover more completely to their true love. For, in a corner, next to a pile of soft, comfy pillows, stood a brazier. There were two irons heating on the coals of the brazier. One bore a J. The other bore an S. Though she would marry John this night, and be impregnated by him, and carry his child, Chrissy would, to always remember her true love, be branded on her bottom. With an S. The initial of her real husband's first name. It would be the same for Pauline. She would take marriage vows to Steve, and receive his sperm. But, so she remembered who her real husband was, she would, before the fucking, be permanently marked with a J.
I could feel Pauline trembling as she stood beside me. Her hand was in mine. It was sweating.
"Do you, John, take Chrissy as your unlawfully wedded wife?" Rebecca asked our black host.
"I do," John said. He felt the squirtgun (there was one for each of us, lying on the altar) jet out wine upon the length of his penis. "That makes me have to go to the bathroom," John said.
"No peeing at the altar," Rebecca told him. Then she read out the marriage vows for Pauline. She drenched her pussy with wine. Pauline agreed to be unlawfully married to Steve. Then Rebecca, turning to him, shot wine all over his penis.
"And now you, Brad, as best man," Rebecca said. She drenched his cock with wine. When the squirtgun designated for him was empty, she did me. Finally, turning a gun on herself, Rebecca soaked her own pussy. "Now you may kiss," Rebecca told the two couples.
Brad and I watched from opposite sides as the four people embraced. They kissed long and passionately. Brad looked at me with pleading eyes. His dick was dripping, and I knew there was more than just wine plopping off the end of it. I lifted my nose. I wouldn't let him have me. Not yet. We might get in trouble with John, if we messed up his wedding by balling at the altar.
"I want to get married," I said suddenly to Rebecca.
"You're too young," she answered.
"I want to fuck," Brad said frankly.
"Go in the bushes if you need it that badly," I giggled.
John told us to shut up. He said we were messing up his kissing. Chrissy swooned as he kissed her. I think he managed to stick his tongue all the way down her throat.
"Now for the brazier," John said.
"Oh, I don't--!" Pauline said. There was misgiving in her eyes.
"We must," John said.
"Will it hurt?" Chrissy asked. Her eyes looked across the room at the flickering coals.
"No worse than when you birth my child," John said. |
11,824 | The Vampire | "I've been losing weight," Virginia said. Her voice was small and dry.
It turned out she'd been losing sleep as well, and it was all over some guy she'd met. I held the phone in place with my shoulder, reached for a bag of potato chips, and munched quietly as I listened.
Five months ago, he asked her out, he stood her up, and she fell in love. He's been torturing her ever since. I felt guilty about not calling her more often. She still called me every week, usually late at night.
"You're turning into a vampire," I observed.
"But vampires eat --"
"-- people," I said. "I hope you're staying away from him."
"Well, mostly," she sighed.
Years ago, she told me she had nightmares about vampires. She'd meet some mysterious and handsome man whose name she'd never know, have sex, and the man would promptly turn into a vampire.
"I bet *you* haven't been losing sleep over anyone recently," she said.
"I used to have problems sleeping sometimes," I admitted, "then I started seeing Elizabeth, and I still had problems sleeping. So eventually we broke up. Some things just never change."
I didn't mention that Elizabeth started having problems sleeping soon after we started seeing each other. She also started losing weight.
"I thought you two were going off to Hawaii next month," Virginia said.
"Actually, we had kind of a, well, falling out, you see."
"I see. We should go see a movie together on Friday. After all, what are the chances either of us losers could find a date with someone else?"
Something inside me raged and hissed.
I ignored it.
That night I fell asleep quickly. I had a strange dream.
In the dream, I met a girl with long auburn curls and innocent, beckoning eyes. Without saying a word, I threw her to the floor and slid her jeans down. I turned her onto her stomach and held her down as I forced my cock into her ass. She screamed.
Virginia watched the girl as she writhed in pain underneath me. She reached out and brushed away the girl's tears.
Virginia licked her salty fingertip.
And then she smiled and I could see that her fangs were just beginning to grow.
Virginia was late for the first time ever. While waiting in line to buy tickets I noticed that the woman in front of me was rather pretty.
The strange thing inside me made me unusually brave that night, and a few minutes later, the woman gave me her phone number and we agreed to meet the next day. Her name was Catherine.
Virginia arrived while Catherine and I were still talking. Virginia kept blinking and it looked like she was crying.
"Are you alright? What's wrong?" I asked her.
"It's... my contact lenses."
"Are they new?" I asked her. "They didn't used to bother you."
"Yeah," she said.
"What kind are they?" I asked.
She didn't say anything.
"Maybe you put them in wrong," I said. "Let me take a look."
She didn't say anything.
Catherine licked her lips and smiled at Virginia.
Virginia didn't call me the next week, or the week after that. The thing inside me gnawed at my stomach. Finally, she called and told me she'd picked up a guy at a bar and actually slept with him.
"He called me the very next day to tell me his phone number. Can you believe it? But then I accidentally hit the wrong button on my answering machine and erased the message before I copied down his number. Oh well. He'd probably turn out to be a jerk, anyway."
"You're learning," I laughed.
The greedy thing inside my stomach felt sated.
She asked me if I wanted to see a movie. I lied and said I couldn't -- I was on my way to Catherine's.
She asked me if I wanted to come over to her place tomorrow night. I lied again and said it wouldn't be fair to Catherine. Catherine and I are in love, I said.
I heard a strangled sobbing noise, and she hung up.
I felt giddy with power.
It bothered me that I lied to her; I called Catherine and asked if I could come over. She said yes, and I felt better.
I looked into the mirror on my way out the door. Suddenly I was horrified by my own reflection. There was a twisted look in my own eyes that disgusted me, and I turned away quickly and flew out into the night.
Catherine tore into me the moment I arrived.
"Yes," I whispered. "Be cruel."
She was cruel and selfish and used me only for her own pleasure. She mounted me and when she came she bit my shoulder and drew blood with her nails until I screamed and tried to push her off, but she held on and bit me hard again and again, thrusting her hips into mine without stopping. The pain was excruciating and I struggled against her until I finally came.
"Please, I can't stand it," I whispered.
She lay on top of me, licking my neck with her tongue and squeezing my cock with her inner muscles, waiting until she could take her pleasure from me again.
The evil thing inside me was drained and wounded. I prayed it would die in Catherine's embrace.
"More," I whispered.
She turned me onto my stomach, then reached into a drawer and strapped something on. I felt something cold and hard press against my anus, then a sharp pain that lanced up through my guts.
I felt her breasts on my back as she held me down. She stabbed again and again, laughing as I cried out, drinking my tears and agony.
After a few months, I began to feel dissatisfied with my relationship with Catherine. Now I wanted her to be tender, which was impossible for her. She started to ignore me, and little by little I wasted away.
I found my phone under a pile of unwashed laundry and I called Virginia. I hadn't heard from her in months.
She told me she currently had two boyfriends, and occasional flings on the side.
"I break up with one of them once in a while, just to keep them on their toes," she said. "Sorry I haven't called -- boyfriend juggling is a full time job, you know."
I told her I couldn't stop thinking about Catherine.
"I'm tired all the time," I said.
"I hope you're staying away from her," she said.
I asked her if she wanted to see a movie.
"I can't," she said.
"Please," I said.
She laughed and hung up.
I had another strange dream that night.
In my dream, two grotesque tarantulas crawled on my chest as I lay in bed. I wanted to scream, to knock them off and run away, but I feared they would bite and I kept very still. I held my breath and trembled with fear and revulsion.
The tarantulas sensed each other and crawled towards each other slowly. When they were next to each other, one of them extended a hairy leg, glistening with mucous, towards the other tarantula. The leg touched the other tarantula's leg very gently and lovingly.
Their tenderness moved me, and I cried. |
13,082 | My Friends the Allens -- Coffee? | "You have to kick it just so!" She kicked the side of the washer with the side of her foot, and the jammed quarters suddenly and noisily rattled into the coin-box, and the loud hissing water began to spray onto my clothes.
"Thanks," I said, "I was just about to try that."
I grinned, and she grinned, and she brushed a lock of mouse-brown hair out of her face and sat down on the bench. Her feet were in thin grey cloth shoes, slippers really, with suede soles. Tight cotton leggings covered her legs and her bottom, and she had a loose Dodgers sweatshirt on top. Her eyes were large and brown and amused.
My usual laundromat was closed for renovation, and I had wandered to this one, laundry-bag over my back like a lost summer Santa.
"Those yours?" I asked casually, nodding at the washer next to mine, which was chugging away at someone's shirts, socks, and underwear.
"No, mine are in that dryer." Just as she said it, the dryer stopped, shorts and bras and panties spinning and tumbling one last time over each other. She scooped them out into a small hamper and turned to go. She looked over her shoulder at me on the way out.
"Bye!" She said.
"Bye!"
A few mornings later, outside my apartment building, I saw her again, leaning against a window ledge, in tight jogging shorts and a t-shirt. There were damp circles under her arms.
"Kick any washers lately?" she asked.
"I've been practicing." I bashed my foot into the wall, a bit too hard, to illustrate. She winced sympathetically. "I was just going in for coffee," I said, nodding at the Coffee Nook across the street, "can I treat you?"
She took her coffee with cream and sugar. She sat easily in the chair, her legs stretched out in front of her, hair matted with sweat. Her hand held the mug firmly by the base, ignoring the handle. Her fingers were long and slender, fingernails blunt and unpainted. There was a gold band on the ring finger of her left hand. We didn't talk much.
"Summer's getting hot."
"Again. Never too hot for coffee, though." She drank slowly, sipping the coffee between her lips. People came and went.
"I should be going," I said.
She swallowed the last mouthful of brown from her mug. "I come by here jogging lots of mornings."
"I come here for coffee pretty often."
She stood up. "That's nice," she said, "Bye!"
"Bye!" I watched her walk out to the street and into the stream of pedestrians. The tight shorts emphasized the flow of her muscles.
We would sit by the window and drink our coffee. We never talked much. When I passed her the cream, sometimes she would close her fingers around mine, and we would touch just for that second. She sat and let me look at her, her hair and her face, her feet, ankles showing above her sneakers, her bare legs. No one else looked at her; the two of us sat at our table, two people sitting together, and no one thought anything of it. Sometimes I would get there first, and when she came and sat by me, fresh from her run, her breasts would still be rising and falling quickly under her t-shirt and sports bra.
One morning it was especially hot, muggy, the air thick and hard to breathe. She came late, and talked less than usual.
"God, it's miserable."
"No day for running."
"I'd hate to miss my run. It's the long pull home to the shower that I'm dreading."
"You could use mine."
"Your shower?"
"I live right over there."
"I could use your shower?"
"Sure."
Going up the stairs ahead of me, her body moved efficiently, catlike, the muscles of her thighs and rear bunching and relaxing in rhythm. She smiled and disappeared into the bathroom, and the shower ran, not for long.
"Don't worry about the water bill!"
"Oh, I never take long showers. Could I borrow a robe?"
I handed her mine through the crack of the door.
She sat sideways at one end of the couch, her legs up. I sat next to her feet. We talked about the weather. I took her toes between my fingers, gently massaged them, rubbed the muscles of her soles.
"That's nice," she said. She smelled of my soap. Her feet were cool and small in my hands.
"Ah, God, look at the time," she said, "I have to go. Thanks for the shower!" She went into the bathroom, changed back into her sweaty clothes, and went out.
"Bye!"
That night, I took a long shower, and I slept in my bathrobe. I could still smell the soap.
The next morning was hotter still. She came into the Nook before I'd ordered my coffee, breathing hard, bending her legs to ward off cramps, cooling down and panting in the humid air. Her shorts and t-shirt were soaked.
"If you want to use my shower again, we could skip the coffee."
"Sacrilege!"
"You'd have more time to shower."
"Hm, OK."
She went up the stairs ahead of me again, and I handed her my robe. The shower ran again, maybe a minute longer than before. I stood by the bathroom door, imagining the sweat washing off of her, down the drain, the water running through her hair, down her neck, dripping from her elbows and her nipples. The water stopped, and I went and sat on the couch.
She hummed to herself as I massaged her toes and her feet. My robe was much too large for her, and it covered her loosely. I ran my fingers over the long thin bones of her ankles, and she looked at me. Her lips parted, and I thought she was about to say something, but she stopped and looked out the window. I gently stroked her shin, and kneaded the slim firm muscle. She closed her eyes.
One hand still on her leg, I reached up and touched the tie of her robe, my robe, with the other hand. A drop of water from her hair sat poised on the ledge of her collarbone. The tie came open slowly, quietly. Her skin was warm and tan under the robe. I could see her stomach, the inner slopes of her small breasts, a few strands of dark pubic hair showing around the terrycloth. I took my hand from the tie and touched the bare skin of her stomach. Her chest rose and fell.
My hand on her leg moved up, squeezed just above her knee. I thought of her running, her legs taking her weight in turns, thighs passing each other, muscles taut. Under her robe, her skin was firm and relaxed; my fingers slowly climbed the lower slope of her breast. With the fingers of her left hand, the hand she drinks her coffee with, she touched the collar of the robe; perhaps she tugged it a little to the side, and another inch of her shoulder was bare. I heard, felt, a low pulsating rush in my ears. I squeezed her breast gently, and she drew in her breath.
"I think I ought to go." She said it softly, with a rising intonation, like she'd just had bad news in the mail. Her lips were thin and pink and dry.
"Yeah," I said, my fingers nearly to her nipple.
I looked away as she stood quickly and went into the bathroom to change. She stopped at the door.
"Bye!"
In the bathroom, I picked up her robe. I held it to my face for a long time.
The End |
13,130 | The Ladies Who Lunch 1 | "I can't believe you're taking this seriously," Georgia Jewell whispered.
"Why not?" Dee Dee Sayles replied coolly.
The waiter approached with more coffee.
"Yes, thank you," Dee Dee said.
"Oh no," Georgia stammered.
Georgia felt her face flush as she kept her gaze on the little dish of foil-covered mints the waiter had set down. She could not help noticing the back of his wrist as the cuff of his shirt rode up. It was tanned and strong, covered with his blonde curls. How could this little strip of flesh send that hot a tingle down her back?
The three women fell silent until the waiter was gone, watching him in the mirrors as he walked across the room.
"God," Cheryl Harper gasped. "Imagine what's underneath that apron."
The three women, two blondes and one African-American, ate lunch together every Tuesday at Bernard's. Georgia, a 42-year-old green-eyed blonde, was an important but obscure Democratic Congresswoman from Ann Arbor, Michigan. Dee Dee, a 44-year-old green-eyed blonde, was a secretary at the Nuclear Regulatory Agency. Cheryl, a 36-year-old African-American with brown eyes, was a researcher at the Library of Congress. All three women had noticed Jon, the tall blonde waiter. He was slim but with a good upper body. He had a nice butt, strong forearms, and a neck like a wrestler.
"He's beautiful," Georgia sighed. "But he can't be more than twenty-two."
"He's twenty-four and he's studying for his master's in Nordic Mythology," Dee Dee informed them.
Dee Dee took a bite of her apple brie tart.
"He is a Nordic Myth," Cheryl sighed.
"And he works this Friday night," Dee Dee said.
Cheryl laughed into her cappuccino, spraying foam. Even Georgia started to giggle.
"Well?" Dee Dee asked.
"Well," Georgia paused. "It has been a while since we've done it. Besides, remember, we gave up the game."
It had been a year since they last kidnapped a man, with another eight months before that. Punctuated by one sorry attempt at trying to kidnap a man.
"A while," Cheryl broke in with a giggle. "I'm so horny that every time I see a hunk, I want to snatch him."
"So let's get back into the game," Dee Dee said.
"You're both crazy," Georgia insisted, lowering her voice. "How would we do it anyway?"
"I have a plane," Dee Dee said quietly. "And a place."
"The lodge?" Cheryl asked excitedly.
Dee Dee nodded.
"But he'll recognize us," Georgia pointed out.
"He'll never see us," Dee Dee said mischievously.
The three women bent their heads over the dish of foil-wrapped mints and plotted as the tall, blonde adonis busied his beautiful self resetting tables in the back.
Business was slow on Friday evening, and Jon left shortly after midnight. As he walked under the awning of the Woodson Building, grumbling to himself over his lousy tips, he was surprised by the large fishing net that fell over his head. It happened so quickly, so quietly, that he thought right away it was some sort of prank and started laughing and swearing. A black-clad figure ran out from the shadows and grabbed the bottom of the net, pulling it tightly around his ankles.
It was not a particularly scary black-clad figure, however. Jon realized with a start that it was a female. Dee wore black stretch stirrup pants, a black cashmere sweater, and a Hermès scarf wrapped bandit-style around her face. Jon barely had time to wonder who it might be when Georgia appeared from overhead, swinging like a gymnast down from the awning and knocking into Dee Dee, who was trying to restrain Jon.
"Oh, shit," Georgia cursed.
"Watch it," Dee Dee cried out.
"Damn it," Georgia said.
Jon kicked out at the net and fell.
"Get his feet," Dee Dee hollered.
"I'm trying," Georgia responded.
Dee Dee and Georgia used their advantage in numbers to wrap the netting tighter, rolling Jon into a ball.
"Oh, damn," Georgia cried out. "I broke a nail."
Jon felt feminine hands all over him. He saw a black limousine roar up to the curb just as he heard a sexy woman's voice whisper in his ear.
"Don't worry," Dee Dee said. "You're going to love this."
The limousine stopped, and Cheryl got out. She ran around to the back of the limousine and opened the back door, then helped Dee Dee and Georgia bundle their catch into the back seat onto the plush velvet seats. Cheryl slammed the back door shut, jumped back into the driver's seat, and the limousine roared away with a jolt. Jon tumbled back against the seat, and two of his feminine captors bounced against him. Jon smelled their perfume and heard them giggle. He raised his hands to push the net away and felt Dee Dee's breasts as she bounced into him; she had two of the roundest, softest breasts he had ever encountered.
"Just do as we say," Dee Dee said in a sexy but determined voice. "And you won't get hurt."
This demand was immediately drowned out by more feminine giggles.
"Oh, Dee Dee," Georgia laughed. "You don't have to be so melodramatic."
"Shhhh," Cheryl hissed. "Watch it."
"Oops," Georgia giggled. "Sorry."
They had agreed not to use their real names. Jon strained to see in the dark.
"Okay, what's going on?" Jon asked. "What's the trick?"
"No tricks, honey," Dee Dee replied. "Just a treat, for us, and you are it."
"Who are you?" Jon demanded. "Who put you up to this? Was it Mark?"
"We were perfectly able to put ourselves up to it," Dee Dee pouted. "Thank you very much."
"I don't get it," Jon said.
"You will, baby," Georgia said. "This is the nineties, women take what they want, and we wanted you."
Jon could feel Dee Dee's and Georgia's hands caressing him through the fishing net, and he found himself growing aroused in spite of the strangeness of it all.
"We've been watching you, Jon," Dee Dee began. "And we've decided to borrow you for the weekend."
"Borrow me?" Jon asked.
"Strictly for our pleasure," Georgia said.
Georgia slid her smooth fingers over Jon's lap.
"Here, have a drink," Dee Dee said softly in his ear.
Jon felt a wine glass raised to his lips, through the fish net. He recognized the scent as that of a red wine, Amador Late Harvest Zinfandel, a gorgeous dessert wine, only forty cases bottled. Well, damn, Jon thought, if he had to be kidnapped, at least his captors had class.
"Now look, baby," Georgia said. "We really want you to have a good time, but we are going to use a little insurance."
Jon felt Georgia reaching through the netting. She found one of his wrists and snapped a handcuff around it. Jon protested by bucking himself up off the seat. Dee Dee's hand cupped his balls and squeezed. Dee Dee's touch was gentle, but the intent was clear. Georgia found his other wrist and clamped his hands securely behind his back.
"Have some more wine, darling," Dee Dee said.
Jon tried to take a drink through the fish net, but more of the Zinfandel spilled than he drank. He thought of saying something, but what?
"Okay," Dee Dee sighed. "Off with the net."
Dee Dee and Georgia got the net off of Jon. Georgia then took a black scarf and tied it snugly around Jon's eyes. As soon as Georgia secured the knot, she slid her hands around the back of his neck, pulled his head forward, and kissed him full on the mouth. Her body rubbed up against his.
"Honey," Georgia's voice was breathless. "Do you want to ride up front and keep our driver company a little while?"
"Sheesh," Dee Dee giggled.
Jon felt Dee Dee move off the seat and climb over the front seat to the front of the limousine.
"You just can't wait," Dee Dee giggled. "Can you?"
"Wait?" Georgia laughed. "Why?"
Jon felt Georgia's hand sliding his zipper down, and felt his penis leap up in response. Then he felt her lips close around his penis. There he was, handcuffed in the back of a limousine with a slight buzz from an incredibly expensive wine, and one of his female kidnappers sucking him off. What could he do? These women didn't exactly seem like ax murderers.
Georgia locked Jon's penis in long strokes and flicked her tongue against the underside of his shaft, rolled her tongue around the soft tip, and then plunged down, taking him deep into her mouth. Jon moaned, almost came but held back. A guy can't seem too easy.
Georgia slipped off of Jon and peeled off her blue stirrup pants. Jon caught a whiff of her pussy, then felt her smooth thighs as she mounted him. Slowly Georgia leaned into Jon. He felt the lips of her cunt, hot and slippery, slide up against his hard penis.
"Ohhh, I knew you had a sweet penis," Georgia purred. "I just knew it."Georgia continued to slide up and down, rubbing her clitoris against Jon as shamelessly as a cat in heat. Jon arched up, but Georgia lifted her hips so that the target was just out of his reach. She stopped, poised with the lips of her snatch just barely touching the tip of Jon's prick.
"Grabby, grabby," Georgia teased. "You're the prisoner, remember? You get it when I say you get it."
"Who says I want it?" Jon sneered. "Your cunt can't be such a prize if you have to kidnap a guy to fuck it."
Georgia slapped Jon hard across the face.
"Bitch," Jon cried out.
"Don't be rude, pretty boy," Georgia said.
Jon thought Georgia was going to stop out of spite, but she began again. A slow slide, up and down, rubbing her clit against him. Finally, Jon felt Georgia lowering herself down on him inch by inch. She pulled back if he thrust upward even the slightest. Once he was deep inside her, however, Georgia sighed with pleasure and began to wiggle in a slow, round motion until her legs tightened and she gasped with delight. Jon rammed her and shot his load so hard into Georgia that the handcuffs dug into his flesh and he passed out. |
13,145 | Tit Torture-Free Site | "YOWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!" Something zapped my breasts! I slammed forward and bounced backward, nearly falling over. I caught myself just in time and glanced around furtively, hoping nobody noticed. Fortunately, only a couple of people were in this computer cluster: one busily typing away at his workstation, and the other asleep with his head on the keyboard. It was eight in the morning; few people were still up this late.
As the pain in my breasts dissipated, I was able to breathe normally again. I nervously looked back at my workstation, wondering if I dared touch it. What the heck had happened? I had typed in a URL in Netscape and was waiting for it to connect when it happened! Netscape was there waiting, displaying my webpage in all innocence as if nothing had happened. I stood there, terrified to touch the workstation again.
Finally, I carefully reached around back and rebooted the workstation. I logged into the one next to it and composed an email to the system folk telling how the workstation had malfunctioned. Then I started up Netscape and tried to access the website again -- ZAP!
Not again! What the heck was going on? Was it my imagination, or had I briefly seen electric current jumping from the screen to the nipples of my breasts? They were sticking out noticeably under my tee-shirt, and they still felt extremely sensitive. I dashed off another furious email and logged off in a huff.
After class that afternoon, I logged in again. I went to a different cluster, with a different brand of workstations. I still remembered the soreness in my breasts. Maybe it was superstition, but I didn't want to take the chance.
I first checked my email. Sigh, it was mostly spam: "$50,000 Guaranteed!" "!Learn the Secrets of Attracting Girls!" "##Young, Hung, and Full of Cum!!" "High School Grrls Wanting and Ready for You!" "!!Tit Torture-Free Site!!" "Free Sex!" "Man Sucking Teen Tampon!" "No Spam! No Password! Simply HOT YOUNG GURLZ, Barely Legal!" "Get Rich Quick! Make $50,000!!" "Writers Wanted!" What was up with those idiots? Couldn't they tell from my name that I might possibly be female?
I also received a reply to my messages earlier this morning: They had checked the workstations and found nothing wrong with them; what I had described could not possibly have happened. Furthermore, I was not to reboot a workstation except under the direst emergency. Rebooting a workstation can potentially damage the workstation and the network. I angrily bumped that message to the "Extra" box. Yep. 'Twas "Notwork Noservices" for you.
I started up Netscape again and clicked on a URL. I waited expectantly, then -- ZAP! Owwww, my poor breasts! Why oh why me, why is this happening to me? I wondered, burying my head in my arms on the keyboard and weeping. When I sat back up, I noticed nearly everyone in the room looking at me. Embarrassed, I quickly clicked on the logoff button and walked out of the room in humiliation.
That evening after supper, I finally succumbed to temptation and logged in again, in a third cluster. This time, I decided to use Arena instead of Netscape, just in case. Of course, it was utterly ridiculous to think that the web had anything to do with those shocks on my breast. It had to have been pure coincidence that the shocks came just as I was opening a webpage. Something was the matter with those particular workstations; that's all it was.
Nevertheless, after typing in the URL, I stood up off to the side almost in front of the next workstation over. I kept waiting and waiting, not daring to press the ENTER key just yet.
"Excuse me, mind if I take this machine?" Yikes! I jumped, startled.
"Oh, yes. Of course." A bit embarrassed, I slid back to my own workstation. Apparently this was the only free workstation, and someone wanted to use it. Distracted, I pressed ENTER -- ZAP!!!! Everyone heard my shriek, I'm sure. The guy asked, "Is something wrong?"
"Yes, very wrong!" I managed to hold back my tears as I turned and walked out. I ran all the way to my dorm and upstairs to my room and jumped on my bed for a good long cry.
Of course, I couldn't keep myself off the Internet. I logged on again the next morning. Along with the usual spam, I received an email reminding me to log out when I leave, saying how tempted he was to invite everyone to a strip poker party. Okay, it was going to be another one of those days.
I slid down underneath the table before connecting to a website. Nothing happened that I could tell, but I decided to wait a couple of minutes just to be on the safe side.
"Excuse me, Miss. What are you doing under there?" came a harsh male voice above.
"Um, uh, checking something out."
"Young lady, if you have a problem with the computers, don't try to fix things yourself. You could break something. Report the problem to Network Services." I slid out from underneath, flaming in embarrassment. The man looked down at me. "Understand, young lady?"
I nodded, flaming. He turned and walked away. I turned to sit down at the workstation -- ZAP! Grrrrrrr! Somebody's going to be castrated for this! I imagined the scissors snipping: snip-snip-snip-snip.
The next time, I asked a girl sitting next to me to try it. She didn't know how to use Netscape, but once I showed her, she was able to access the web without problem. Meanwhile, I got ZAPPED again. She gave me a weird look, circled her finger around her ear, and left.
Another time, I slid a nice thick loop of rubber on me, across my breasts and around the back, under my tee-shirt. It was awfully tight, especially on my breasts, but it should be a good insulator, I thought. Anything would be better than being ZAPPED.
"What ARE you wearing under there?" someone asked on the way.
"Under where?" I pretended not to know what he was talking about.
"Rather strange underwear. We can see it through your clothes, you know."
I blushed and ran off. I should have worn a dark tee-shirt instead of a white one. Anyway, the thing didn't work; I got ZAPPED again. When I took it off that evening, I found two holes burnt through the rubber, right at my nipples.
The next time I logged in, someone asked, "What are you doing in that scuba suit?"
"What? Oh, am I still wearing this? I guess I forgot to take it off."
"Uh huh, right." He shook his head and walked away, muttering, "That girl needs help."
Sigh, nothing worked. I was always ZAPPED, no matter what site I accessed, no matter what workstation I used, no matter what web-browser I used. Ahhhhhh!!!!
Sorting through my email, removing the ever-increasing spam, I noticed one title that had been coming with obnoxious frequency: "Tit Torture-Free Site!" I blush to admit that I actually opened the spam and read it. The message was very short. "The Only Site You'll Ever Need!" followed by a URL repeated three times. Feeling really foolish at following up a spam, I clicked on the URL and Netscape popped up. Darn, too late! I twisted my body in what I knew was a futile attempt to avoid the ZAP, and then came --
Nothing. I looked at the screen. The webpage had loaded up, and -- miracle of miracles! -- I wasn't ZAPPED!
I never found out what was happening. But that no longer matters. Whenever I access the Web, I go to the "Tit Torture-Free Site." I will never use another site. This is The Only Site I'll Ever Need.
The ENDus> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
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12,948 | Kathy | "Bright college years with pleasures rife, the shortest, gladdest years of life. How swiftly are ye gliding by..." Kathy could feel tears forming in her eyes as the Yale Alma Mater was played. She was standing, singing it with her graduating classmates, "...In after years should troubles rise, to cloud those bright and sunny skies..." She thought of her life's reversal. It wasn't "after years;" for her they were prior years. Just a few short years earlier she had been a prostitute with no future at all. Now, the President having formally conferred degrees, she was a graduate, with highest honors, of one of the world's most prestigious universities. She wondered what Julie would think of her now. The song continued towards its conclusion. Kathy shook out her handkerchief in preparation for the last lines. She waved in time with the rest as they sang "...for God, for Country, and for Yale!"
'This is my graduation,' she thought, standing straight. 'These were good years. The diploma I receive back at Calhoun College reads, "artium liberalium baccalaurei, summa cum laude." My final class standing is number four. Maybe I should have majored in math or engineering. The liberal arts faculty won't ever give grades as high as the engineering and math guys do.' She smiled at the thought.
Finally the ceremony ended and the crowd scattered towards the residential colleges. Kathy went to Calhoun College where diplomas would be distributed. When the master called her name, she walked over to receive her diploma. Calhoun is one of Yale's Gothic colleges. 'A true "ivy covered hall,"' Kathy thought as she reached out her hand. The master, after giving her the diploma, put out his arms and pulled her into a powerful hug. "Kathy," he said softly, "having you here at Calhoun has been one of my real pleasures at Yale. I'm only sorry you didn't spend more time with us." He kissed her on the cheek, and raised his voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, could we have a round of applause for the Queen of Yale College and Calhoun's top graduate this year, Katherine J. Smith!" Her classmates stood and applauded as, red faced, she walked back to her seat.
Bob Ferguson had come up for commencement and was seated next to her. "Kathy, Sam would be so proud. I know I am. Everything he hoped you would do, you have done. And far more besides. You're wonderful, Hon. And I think you have some visitors. There are a group of guys standing back there waving at you."
She turned in her seat and looked back. There were John and Bill who had graduated the previous year; Jack, Kevin and other classmates still wearing their academic gowns; and other underclass fraternity brothers who had stayed on for graduation. When she went back to see them she kissed Bill and John and held their hands, "I missed you big lugs! Thank you so much for coming." Again she could feel tears starting to roll down her cheeks.
John took her into his arms, hugged her, and stroked her hair. "I wouldn't miss it for the world! For our baby sister to be graduating without Bill and me here to see it is ridiculous." He held her at arm's length. "You still look great, babe. But look out for that eruption," he added in a whisper.
When John released her, Bill took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. He whispered with his lips close to her ear, "Kathy, I still remember that pool game. You were so beautiful. You stood there like an Amazon defending your world. I guess you know it changed me. I've met a wonderful girl who I want to introduce to you. We're planning on being married in a couple of years when I finish business school."
Kathy gave him a warm kiss and then held him away, "Bill, I'm so happy for you! That's wonderful news!" She lowered her voice to a whisper and added, "But can she shoot pool?" Bill grinned and faked a swing at her.
Then Bob Ferguson joined the happy group. Kathy proudly introduced the men to Bob. Handshakes were exchanged all around. Bob said, "So you're the guys I've heard so much about. It sounds trite, I know, but Kathy has told me all about you." He saw some faces redden. "Well, maybe not quite all. She was orphaned some years ago and has no brothers and sisters of her own. I know, though, that she loves you as much as she could possibly love real ones. I want to thank you all for everything you've done for Kathy while she's been in New Haven."
The boys laughed. "I don't know what Kathy's been telling you," said Jack, "but it couldn't be the truth. What we've done for *her*? Or *to* her? The reality is what she's done for us. Aside from winning every award for us there was to win, she whipped us into shape." His expression suddenly changed, "Good Heavens! I didn't realize. You must be the Mr. Ferguson who..."
Ferguson smiled, "Guilty."
Jack looked at John. "Maybe you didn't hear. Last fall, we got the word from the University about our house: Clean up or close up... and fast. It was all the structural work: the fire safety stuff, and the bathrooms. The cost was nearly a million dollars. Then we got a call from a man named Ferguson -- Mr. Ferguson, here, obviously -- who is trustee of a foundation in Norfolk. He said we won an award for capital projects of a million..." He stopped in the middle of his sentence and looked at Bob Ferguson, whose head was bent as he studied something fascinating on the ground.
Then he looked at Kathy who was trying to disappear into the shrubbery. "Of course, it was you! My God, how dumb can we be. Kathy's from Norfolk and by a coincidence a Norfolk-based charitable foundation decides that an impoverished fraternity in New Haven -- damnyankee territory, if you will -- needs money to fix its joint up. Katherine Smith, don't you dare try to hide! Stand up straight in front of the Alpha Council. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Kathy stood up straight in front of him. Tears started to form in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't want... I don't know what I mean." She continued to stand with her head up straight and her arms at her sides as the tears started to pour down her cheeks.
Jack took her in his arms and held her. He could feel her body shaking with sobs as she nestled into his shoulder. He stroked her hair which was silken gold. "God, Kathy, I'm sorry. Look at you!" He held her out at arm's length. "You're sorry for getting us more money than we could ever think about -- and on a single phone call, I'll bet! Right?" Kathy nodded her head. "You lovely little idiot. You're standing there crying because you saved our house, for chrissakes. That's really something to be ashamed of." Then he took her into his arms and kissed her hard. When he released her, the other brothers took her and kissed her, too. Soon Kathy's head was swimming. Some of the kisses were decidedly unbrotherly.
Jack looked at Ferguson. "It *was* only a single call, wasn't it? It had to be. The timing was too quick for anything else. I'll bet we got your letter only a couple of days after Kathy knew. My God! What did she tell you?"
Bob Ferguson looked a little sheepish. "Well, she said that you fellows had a financial emergency, and... well... Oh hell, it's all her money anyway!"
The boys spun on Kathy who was glaring at Bob Ferguson, "You promised!"
Ferguson looked miserable, "I'm sorry, Hon. It slipped out."
"Katherine Smith, are we to understand that you made a gift to the house of one million dollars *of your own money!* Is that true?" Kathy nodded once. "She's done it to us again, guys! She really has. John, I think it was your idea to pledge Kathy into the house, wasn't it? What a dumb move. All we got out of that deal was a house full of trophies, a crown or two, a jump in our academic standing, a few athletic records and a million dollars.He took Kathy in his arms and kissed her again. He kept his arm around her waist as he turned towards his friends. He started to laugh. "This reminds me somehow of that old story about the shotgun marriage to the beautiful nymphomaniac whose father owns a liquor store... But I'm not sure why."
He looked at Kathy as he laughed harder. She started to laugh, too. Everyone else joined in. Soon they were rolling on the grass, with everyone piling on Kathy. Someone started to tickle her, another joined in. Then her arms and legs were held as Jack tickled her ribs.
"I'm not ticklish," Kathy said in a voice that carried no conviction. She was laughing harder and trying to roll into a ball to escape, but her arms and legs were trapped. Jack knew how to use his hands and was able to control his fingertip pressure. It was just the right pace and pressure to maximize Kathy's torment. Tears of laughter streamed down her cheeks. Finally, she yelled, "I give up! I'll be good! I'll never do it again, I promise!" The friends holding her limbs had to let go because they were laughing too hard to hold on any longer. The laughter slowly subsided.
Kathy got to her feet and looked down at her academic gown, now covered with dust, leaves, and grass clippings that she rather ineffectually tried to brush off. There were leaves in her hair, a dirt smudge and tear stains on her cheeks. While trying to wipe off a tear, she left a grubby finger mark. Jack thought she was the most beautiful girl alive.
She gave up the effort. "How many of you guys can join us for lunch?" A group of seven, including Jack, Bill, and John, agreed. The others had to get back to relatives and friends up for their own graduation celebrations. "Come on, guys, we're off to Mory's to celebrate!" She looked at herself ruefully. "Provided they'll let us in looking like this. It's my treat."
"No, it's not," said Jack. "You see, the fraternity has this mysterious benefactor who gave us a million dollars, and the repairs have all been paid for, and we still have a few bucks left, so..."
They walked arm in arm up Elm Street. Kathy thought about the University of Virginia Law School in Charlottesville, her next stop. Thomas Jefferson's school... |
12,968 | The Barn | "Sorry isn't good enough, young lady," I hear you say. "You've been a bad girl, Maura, and now you have to take your punishment. Take your pants and panties completely off. NOW!! Now, put your hands behind your back, where I'm going to tie them together." You take my panties and shove them into my mouth as a gag, then wrap a cloth strip around my head to hold it in.
"Now let's go out to the barn, young lady. MARCH!!"
I realize now that it is futile to argue with you or fight with you about it. I go with you to the barn, you grabbing my arm and leading the way. I just hope no one passing by on the road can see my embarrassing walk between the house and the barn.
We get to the barn and you lead me down the center between the horse stalls. I can smell the hay and horses and hear them moving on either side. I sense that the doors on either end of the barn are open wide. You bring me to an empty stall and fasten wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs to me. Then you slip rope through the rings on the cuffs. You spread and raise my arms so they are stretched above me and to either side, and you tie my ankles wide to either side of the stall gateway. My body is spread-eagle in the shape of a big X. You take large scissors and cut off my sweatshirt, then unhook my bra and cut that off, leaving me totally naked and defenseless.
I feel something against my right leg...sniffing. It can't be the dog! I'm so humiliated to even let HIM see me like this!
I feel cold and helpless against your strength. I feel a cold nose on my body and see something moving around below me, but I cannot make out the animal. You have taken me out here in the dark. It is chilly out and the night air has made my nipples very erect and my shaved pussy very exposed.
I watch as you put on latex gloves and lube up your hands. You approach me and clamp my nipples with very tight clamps, making me cry out in pain. You get behind me and I feel you very quickly stick a finger up my ass, making me squirm and buck against the restraints. Then I feel two fingers entering my rear hole. You take your other hand and place two fingers up my tight pussy.
You finally withdraw your fingers from both of my holes...and pick up a large butt plug. You lubricate it thoroughly...before you bend down and separate my asscheeks once again. I feel the tip of the butt plug find the very center of my brown crinkle...and feel it enter me. You push it slowly, twisting and turning, until it is all the way up inside my rectum. My anal muscles close over the detent, while the wide flange rests securely between my asscheeks just outside my asshole.
You take an egg-shaped vibrator and coat it with KY as well. You separate the lips of my pussy slit...and slide it up inside. You turn it on to half speed, and I can feel the vibrations course through my whole pelvic region.
I begin to squirm and strain against my bonds...much to your amusement as you watch me respond and approach my orgasms.
I feel all the vibrations and multiple orgasms hold my body taut. One right after the other as you watch with a wicked smile on your face. You love seeing me bound and gagged, available for your every amusement. You take out a wooden paddle and smack my ass a few times hard as you tell me I will obey you always and to start acting like the perfect submissive slut that I am. I feel you moving around me, toying with me. You pull out the butt plug and you leave momentarily.
I hear water running outside...then I hear the screen door slam, and slam again as you exit back out of the house. Water runs again. You come to me carrying a large red bag. You hang it from a beam overhead and attach a large nozzle, the biggest I have ever seen. I cannot protest, as you still have me gagged. I hear you humming softly and telling me how I will behave for you in the future.
You push the nozzle in swiftly and before I know it, water is jetting in to my ass, filling me up, so full. You come around and slowly rub my tummy and finger my clit. The egg vibrator still in my pussy, now turned up to high speed. You tell me to relax, because we will be out here for a very long time tonight....
END |
13,168 | Improvisation | "I can save you, traitor," the Princess hissed. "My father wants to believe in you, and I can persuade him." She paused and gave her prisoner an inviting look. "There is a condition. You must renounce Aida and marry me." A fierce, determined gleam in Theresa's eyes spoke volumes. She slammed her notebook down on the table for emphasis. Silence let the noise echo.
"I cannot," Scott replied weakly, unprepared to offer up the noble surrender of his life. He looked up at the woman. "Never. I love her." The emotion in his voice trembled.
"Good," shouted the director enthusiastically. "Perfect, Theresa. Scott, you need to speak with more courage and conviction. But I think you two have the right idea. Let's break for lunch, and when we get back, we'll do some more improv on the scene. I want each of you to understand your characters completely before we start singing."
"Actors," grumbled Scott as he stepped off stage.
"C'mon," said Theresa, taking his hand and pulling him behind her. Scott followed, a little disturbed to be submitting to the demanding mezzo-soprano in front of the rest of the cast, but not quite daring a fit of independence so early in the production. Once they'd escaped the curious eyes of their fellows, he accepted her command with a ready eagerness. Theresa opened the door to her dressing room and, showing him in, she locked the door behind them.
"I had the caterers bring some trays back here. I thought we could discuss our scenes while we ate. I hope you don't mind."
"I think it's a marvelous idea," said Scott, sitting on a loveseat.
"Good. I'd hoped you would accommodate my flights of fancy. I am so anxious that this production go well, and with you as our tenor, I think our show will be delicious." Theresa twirled and sat beside her leading man.
"Thank you," said Scott, reaching for a sandwich. "I meant to thank you before. I know you're the reason I'm here."
"Nonsense," said Theresa, laughing. "You deserved the role. Who else could play the passionate general with so much strength, so much verve, so much voice? I don't think there was ever any choice."
"Still, with your father producing the opera, I mean. You..."
"Daddy's indulged me in choosing the role, but he wouldn't throw away money, even for me. Only the best were chosen for this show."
"And you chose Amneris? I mean, why didn't you take Aida's role?"
"Don't kid me, Scott. I'll be lucky to hit the B-flat. Don't even dream about me hitting high C without a whole lot of orchestra drowning that screech out. Besides, I think I can understand the spoiled daughter role better than most." Scott sputtered a heartfelt laugh, choking back the sandwich and his fear of offending the lady.
"Fair enough. I'm going to be struggling myself. Maybe you can get the caterer to bring us an extra bottle of brandy before the show to loosen our chords."
"Hmmm," said Theresa, putting her china-like hands on Scott's shoulder, playfully. "I wouldn't want us getting too drunk to control ourselves." Scott smiled with a twinge of anxiety and took a bite of his thick hunk of Italian bread.
"No," he said, his mouth still full, "I wouldn't think more than a sip would be necessary."
"Still," said Theresa, her hands moving down the tenor's chest, "we don't have to maintain too much control."
Scott felt himself draw away from the aggressive touch of his companion, anxious to keep her good grace and yet unprepared to give himself up so easily. Her hands fell down to tease his thigh, and he stood up suddenly.
"Do you have anything to drink?" he asked.
"Sure, mon general. Let me pour you some of my favorite wine." She leaned over to retrieve the bottle from beneath the serving trays. Ice water dripped from the French label. "Could you open it, please? I'm all thumbs with corkscrews." Scott nodded shyly and took the bottle from her hands. He turned the metal spiral into the cork. Theresa rubbed an unashamed hand over the crotch of his trousers. Scott blushed and pulled at the cork.
"Mmmm," she said. "I'm going to like working with you."
"Theresa," he said, putting the bottle down and turning away slightly. She took hold of his hips and drew him closer.
"Pour some wine," she instructed him, boldly fishing in the darkness of his pants. His cock fell softly into her eager fingers. "Hmmm," she murmured. Scott reached awkwardly for the glasses. Theresa pulled his thickening member from the confines of cloth. Scott poured the wine. Theresa suckled his prick.
"Oh," he said nervously, feeling the rush of adrenaline and unbidden excitement in his blood. She pushed the stiffening rod deep into her mouth. He put a hand through her silky hair.
He thought for a second of Andrea. She would never forgive this.
As Theresa slipped her tongue wet over the length of his prick, the mezzo-soprano began to hum. "Theresa," the tenor moaned. "Don't," he said, his voice trailing softly as she sucked to the first line of their impassioned duet. She continued to play and lightly sing. Scott found himself gently intoning his lines as they arose in the succession of rhythm and fevered emotion. Theresa suckled and sang and fondled and played. Scott felt the heat rising in his neck and his head. As her notes rose higher, pleading passionately for him to forsake his love, to live, to survive, he felt his excitement bubble. He was Radames. He would triumph. Amneris would make him king. She swallowed the fountain of lust.
She licked her lips with a smile. Scott again offered her a glass of wine, and this time she took a sip. Scott poured another glass and tossed it back in a gulp. He tried to look at her, but felt deflated and ashamed.
"Mmmm," Theresa said energetically, paying his reluctance no mind. "A good rehearsal, wouldn't you say?"
"Um, yes. Theresa?"
"Scott?"
"Thanks. I mean. Thanks." A knock came at the door.
"Back on stage, please," a voice spoke.
"C'mon, lover. Let's show them how this scene should be done."
"Yeah," said Scott, weakly, "with courage and conviction."
Malinov |
13,300 | Under Control | "Pauline . . . I shall be dispensing with your services for a week or so." It was the following morning, and Gloria who spoke.
Paul's heart sank. What now? And how wretched to be parted from his adorable mistress. A mistress who could be so cruel, yet so kind! He waited with nervous anxiety.
"I'm having you assigned to a labor party - along with some other slave-girls. You'll be helping to build accommodation for my new male slave camp. So you will report to Miss Mandy after your duties have finished here for the day. Understood?"
"Yes, Ma'am . . ." replied Paul miserably. He saw Gloria smile briefly, cruelly.
"I hear," she said, "that Miss Delia will be in charge of your squad."
PAUL PASSED THE day in apprehensive dread . . . following Gloria's announcement about his new duties. Worst of all was the fact that Miss Delia was to be his overseer. That big, buxom blonde was a natural sadist to her fingertips. Not only did she revel in her power over the slave girls on Mrs. Dupont's estate, she enjoyed even more her power over Paul. He was the first male slave she had ever dealt with and, ever since the day of his arrival, she found she got more satisfaction out of him than she did with her normal charges.
He recalled the day of his arrival when, at Gloria's instructions, she had laid her strap across his buttocks as he crouched naked with his nose in the dirt road. Then, later, there was the caning she had given him in the Punishment Room, alongside young Karen. It was Delia, too, who with Miss Mandy had been the prime movers in his transformation from manhood to womanhood. How she had reveled in that! And how she had enjoyed mercilessly thrashing him again and again as he strove to adapt himself to his new role. It was terrible to think that he would again be under her command - rather than that of his adored mistress Gloria. She, it was true, was the author of all that had befallen him, yet he somehow viewed her in a different light. He had an adoration for her. A servile adoration. He now genuinely felt that it was an honor to serve her in any way she demanded. It was an attitude of mind that had developed as month succeeded month in her service.
Just before six o'clock, a slave girl arrived in Gloria's apartment. She had been sent to take Paul's place as Gloria's personal maid. His mistress dismissed him with customary disdain.
"Report to Miss Mandy, Pauline," she said. "You've had an easy time of it here, so it won't do you any harm to sweat for a few days."
It was true that life as a 'maid' was relatively easy for a slave - but only relatively. No one could have exactly called it a sinecure! Especially with a woman so exacting as Gloria.
"Yes, Ma'am," said Paul, automatically curtseying. Gloria ignored him. Her diamond-hard black eyes were already on the newly arrived girl. "Your name, girl?"
"Daphne, ma'am," answered the naked girl, trembling visibly.
"Well, Daphne," said Gloria, "I believe in impressing my authority on all slaves who have the honor of serving me. So you will get your backside up."
The girl didn't hesitate for an instant. She went down on hands and knees, pressed her nose into the carpet, and thrust her hindquarters up high, dipping her back. At the same time, she spread her thighs wide. It was an indecent but obligatory posture, and all slave-girls had to adopt it when receiving such an order. Momentarily, Paul was favored with an enchanting display of feminine charms . . . then, as Gloria advanced, flexing a slim whalebone rod, he curtseyed again and quickly left the room. One didn't linger when a mistress had a rod in hand.
As he closed the door, he heard the whistle of the rod, the sound of it biting into flesh, followed by a gasping yelp of pain. One of many yet to come, he reflected, remembering how strict Gloria had been with him before their mutual trust had developed.
Strange, he thought, that one should think of it as trust. He wondered if that relationship built up with other mistresses and their privately owned slaves. Then, with apprehension in his heart, he made his way to the quarters of the Chief Overseer, Miss Mandy. Once again he was back in that frightening and dangerous world of mass slavery. |
14,029 | Crashing Waves | "Honey, did we bring a can opener?" Meg asked.
"I don't think so," I said, putting down the yellow real estate flyer I was browsing and walking into the tiny kitchen area. I pulled open a drawer. "There should be one somewhere."
"I looked in there," said Meg, slightly exasperated. I opened a drawer filled with dish towels and fished an old chrome can opener from beneath the mound of terry cloth.
"Voilà," I said, offering my wife the coveted prize. She smiled and kissed me gently, closing her eyes as our lips met. I put my arms around her waist and drew her close.
"Careful," she said, smiling. "I got a little sun."
"Sorry," I said, tickling her soft breast through her pale blue t-shirt. Meg turned and attacked the can of peaches.
We usually rented a house at the beach once or twice each summer. It's a four-hour drive to the ocean, but if the weather cooperates, there is no more relaxing way to spend a few days than lounging in the sun, riding the waves, or walking the beaches. It's a perfect, lazy vacation.
"Are you and Jack going to bring back some crabs for dinner?" Meg asked, spearing a slice of peach with a fork.
"I think that's the plan," I replied. Meg swallowed the peach and licked a drop of syrup from her lips.
Jack is an old friend of mine. We'd asked him and Terri, his wife, along with us on this trip. The house we were renting had plenty of space, and I hadn't spent much time with Jack since we both got married.
"Good," said Meg, "I'm starved. The sun always makes me hungry."
"Today was great," I said, reaching in the fridge for a beer. "I can't believe this weather."
"Where's Jack?" asked Meg, stabbing another peach.
"He's upstairs changing out of his swimsuit."
"Aren't you going to change?"
"No," I said. I took a long drink of the cold brew. "Mine's still dry. Jack and Terri were playing the waves just before we came in, so their suits were wet."
"Oh," said Meg, chewing her peach.
I took a moment to admire my wife as she leaned on the counter, eating her sweet fruit. Her blonde hair had lightened considerably after four days of radiant sunshine and lay ungroomed and straight down to her shoulders. The slope of Meg's nose had burned a pale crimson, and she sported the white sunglass tan of a raccoon. Her baby blue t-shirt draped provocatively over her unfettered breasts, with a crease hanging between the slight bulges of her hidden nipples. I could see the last inch of her fluorescent green bikini bottoms as her lean, dark legs emerged and crossed to prop her back against the counter.
I counted myself lucky, spending my time staring boldly at the charms of a beautiful woman.
"What was that?" Meg asked, her mouth full.
"What?" I cocked my head and listened. A moan floated through the air. I shrugged, and another one came, louder. It sounded like Terri.
"Oh my God," Meg said, drooling the juice of her peach down her chin. She picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth, almost laughing. The moans grew into a rhythmic exclamation of breath. "Steve," she said, grabbing my arm, "I think they're fucking."
We took a few steps out of the kitchen. Terri's voice grew stronger, enthusiastic in her high-pitched squeals. I looked at Meg, whose blue eyes were opened wide with wonder. Jack's deep voice shook the beach house.
"Fucking hot bitch," he said. Meg melted slightly at the sound and bit her lip with a soft groan. Her hand blindly found and caressed my stiff cock through the slick cloth of my swimming trunks.
Terri's a petite woman with small breasts and a shapely ass. I imagined her bent over the bed as Jack stroked his prick beneath the globes of her butt. Laying in the sand, baking in the sunshine, I had dreamed something like that a few times before, but adding the live soundtrack of Terri's excitement, the "ohhs" and "ahhs" of her submission to Jack's dick, sufficed to make my mouth water.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Terri squealed.
"Their door must be wide open," I murmured. "We could try to sneak upstairs and peek."
"That wouldn't be nice," Meg said, short of breath. She kissed me, rubbing my dick furiously. I pulled her hard against me, fiery with passion as the sounds of the nearby fucking boiled my blood. Meg's tongue slipped hungrily between my lips. I slipped my hands down under the waist of her bikini bottom and squeezed Meg's ass.
"Yes!" screamed Terri upstairs, moaning harder. I pushed Meg's bottoms down her thighs as I bit at her neck. She pulled my cock out of my trunks. I pressed a finger along Meg's slit. The juice of her pussy drenched my hand.
"Fuck me," she said softly. Meg slid her bikini bottoms down her legs and with her arms around my neck, she lifted herself up and onto my rock. "Oooh," she wailed, loudly. I leaned over the sturdy dinner table and lay Meg back, thrusting myself into her damp cunt. The lines of her bikini shone in silhouette. Meg pulled her t-shirt up over her head, tousling her pale golden mane. Her breasts gleamed brilliantly white against the dark burgundy knots of her nipples and the warm brown of her tanned tummy. I stroked my prick into her, crashing her liquid breasts like the waves against the shore.
"Fuck me," Meg moaned, and with each dive of my dick, her groans grew louder. I had never heard her like this, but I loved these noisy expressions of her lust. "Gimme that cock," she yelled.
I picked up Meg's leg, driving myself deeper into her sea, and then twisted her over so her stark white ass shone over my thrusting stick. "Oh yeah," she screamed, "Oh yeah, fuck me, my pussy's so wet, oh yeah." Meg chanted as I pounded. She worked a finger down to touch her clit while I squeezed her bottom with both hands, pulling her hard against my throbbing dick.
"I'm gonna come," Meg yelled, "Oh God, I'm gonna fucking come." I drove faster, smacking her ass to hurry the pace. Meg squealed madly, wildly, insanely, shivering over my furiously excited fuck.
With a final sigh and shudder, Meg turned her head and smiled broadly. I looked over at the stairs where Jack and Terri crouched watching. Jack wore his trunks, but Terri just held a crumpled t-shirt in front of her chest. They smiled, seeming a little awkward but intensely aroused.
"Hey guys," said Meg, standing up boldly, putting her hands immodestly on her waist. "Mmm, you were so inspiring." Meg sat back onto one of the straight-backed chairs and tickled her damp pussy. "Well, who's up for something to eat?" |
14,101 | New Year's Eve | "I've missed you," I remark as I slip through the door into your waiting arms. My fingers softly caress your cheek, and my eyes gaze deep into the inscrutable depths of your own.
"I've missed you, too," you reply, "so terribly much."
I lightly kiss your lips and your eyes as I run my fingers through your hair to stroke your neck and feel the beating pulse in the vein. My lips meet yours once more, opening, our tongues darting forth to seek and connect with each other.
I feel your hands brush down my neck, then opening my shirt. Your mouth kisses its way down to my chest, there to find and suck on my nipples, your tongue curling languidly around each one in turn. I squirm as a current of energy skitters through my abdomen to the depths of my bowels.
You push me gently down onto the couch, leaning me back. Your hands undo my belt, unzip my jeans, enter within and emerge with my growing cock, the tip wet with glistening pre-cum.
You lick at it, then with a hum of hunger, your mouth is upon the whole of it, your teeth lightly raking the shaft back and forth. With the back pull, I feel the firmness of your lips; with the forward thrust, the back of your throat.
In and out, up and down, you slake your lust upon my member, and with each plunge of your mouth, my cock grows longer and harder and thicker until you can hardly contain its throbbing fullness in your mouth.
Now you leave my pulsing cock and quickly shed your clothes. I rise from the couch, my cock standing hard and straight, bouncing slightly with each pulse of blood through its shaft as it seeks some as-yet-unseen target in which to bury its head.
You kneel on the couch, spreading your legs and gripping the back to steady yourself. I maneuver myself between your thighs, thrust my hardness into the hot, wet slipperiness of your cunt. I thrust hard, my thighs slamming against your own. I reach around you, grab and squeeze your breasts, then my finger slides down to find your clitoris. Each firm stabbing of my cock is matched by the stroke of my finger upon your clit.
You swivel your hips, feel my hardness within you. I pull out of you, then slip and thrust it back in; pull out, slip and thrust, my finger continuing to massage your clit. Then you cum, your body shaking, your cunt banging down against my thighs, desiring to devour me all the way as much as you can possibly take. You cry out in ecstasy, and then my loud groans join yours as I hammer against you, my hot jism gushing out into the hollow of your sex.
Together we ride the current, our bodies moving slowly, languidly, till the waves subside and we rest with our sexes and arms locked in a tight embrace. |
13,331 | FUCK DECENCY 326 Nudie Nursery (nnd) g2 | "When I send you home, I will give you a business card," Jasmine told me. Her words purred into my ears. "It is the name of a man. He will treat you much crueler than I can, or than Brent ever would. Much crueler. He is utterly demanding. He allows a girl no rest, no reprieve. He trained me, and I suffered much at his hands. I can only start you down the path tonight that he will take you on. But you must call him. Tell him your age. He accepts no one over eighteen. When he gives you his address, and you go to him, you must take a whip along. It is the only way. He will not accept you if you forget it. And you cannot come again, only once, and you must do it properly, just as he says, bringing the whip with you."
"Where--where would I get a whip?" I asked through my tears. I knew where to buy CDs in L.A., but not whips!
"Any store that sells things for horses will have them," Jasmine whispered. "I will not give you one. You must go and buy it yourself. Pick it out, present it at the counter. Yes, Kelly! It is that bad! He is that bad!"
I came again, into Kerri's seeking fingertips. I was all honey now, my moistness filling my empty cunt, my thighs wet and loved and caressed and parted and delved between. Jasmine stroked the plump cheeks of my bottom and began easing out the hard dildo. She drew some water back into the syringe so the dildo could move in my bottom. I felt it slide slickly back, slowly, so as not to hurt me and also to let me have the feel of it, the penetrating effect of it as it let me go only ever so slowly. At last, gleaming with the juices of my well-oiled ass, it was removed. Jasmine laughed and set it aside on the carpet. I felt open. I felt remorseful. In my relief, crazily, I wanted the dildo back. And I wanted Brent where the dildo had not gone, in my cunt.
"Stand up, girl," Jasmine told me. She and Kerri hauled me to my feet. I stood dizzily. I palmed my poor ass with my hands. It was hurt, it was pried apart and then left to dream of past penetrations, wishing for more. "Come, we must give Brent his final treatment," Jasmine said. Happily she led me over to my lover so I could watch his destruction.
Brent was hard as a rock. His penis looked like one of those stone phalluses in Fiji. Yet, soon, it would all be over. He would be made to cum and cum in buckets until he was soft and withdrawn. I stared at him.
"Hi," I breathed.
"You took quite a dildo up that fat little ass of yours," he said.
I touched his cock with my finger. "You're going to be small soon," I told him.
"I know," he answered.
"Okay, let's do it," Leslie said. She freed his cock from the vise. Brent let her handle him. He did not resist. He was beyond resisting. He quavered in her small palms, his organ hard but wanting to lose itself now, to let its seed spring forth and be gone. He no longer cared whether he shot in or out of a girl. He wanted to be rid of his tormenting seed.
"Brent, I know you want to cum, but try to hold it," Leslie told him. "I would really like to see you pork one of us, even if you don't care."
"Okay," Brent gasped. "Just finish this game of yours. I've got to pee badly."
Leslie turned her head and looked at Jasmine. "It's okay if he pees now, isn't he?"
"Yes, let him. I want him thinking of nothing but his hardness and his sperm," Jasmine agreed.
"Which one of us do you want to pee on?" Leslie asked Brent.
"Which--?" he asked, stunned.
"Yes, pick your favorite pee partner. You may just go on her. Don't worry about the carpet. We've spilled a little pee on it already, I'm afraid. Now it's your turn to go. Which of us do you like the best?"
"Missy," Brent answered firmly.
"Brent!" I shouted. Missy hollered that she did not want to be peed on.
"I'm sorry," he told me. "I like you, but I can't get enough of Missy. Bring her over here, ladies! I'm going to pee right on that cute belly of hers!"
"Noooo! I don't want him wetting on me!" Missy cried, but Jasmine and Leslie brought her over to him. Brent presented her with his cock. He aimed so that his penis would go on her belly button.
"Well? Let's see it!" Leslie told Brent. She tickled the underside of his cock. A minute passed. Then another.
"I, I can't!" Brent gasped. Leslie bent and kissed his shaft. Suddenly, as her lips mouthed him wetly, Brent's cockhead exploded with pee. It arced across the space between himself and Missy, falling, and splattered on her belly. Missy howled her disapproval, but Jasmine and Kerri, laughing, held her tight between them. Droplets of pee hit them as Brent's powerful stream gushed onto Missy's tummy.
Too soon, he was spent. He had no more pee to give. Missy stood sobbing, pee running down her belly, nesting in her pubic curls, trickling down to her cuntlips and dripping to the floor.
Leslie popped open a can of Mountain Dew. Quickly she poured it into a dark green Tiffany glass. Coca-Cola was stamped on the side of the glass, molded into the glass itself. I watched as the foaming bubbles of Mountain Dew rose up to the hand-blown lettering and then beyond, right to the rim of the glass.
I was urged to take hold of Brent's penis. "Grab the shaft, point him toward the floor," Leslie told me. I did as she asked. My fingers barely fit around him, but I managed it, and then held him down, with difficulty, so that he could be put into the glass.
Leslie brought the glass of soda water under his dick. She lifted the glass, sinking Brent's cock into the brimming soda. Brent shouted as his penis, already coated with Spearmint Binaca, was plunged into the bubbling soda. His arms, bound behind him, ensured he would not resist. He might have run, or course, or dodged away, but he stood his ground, bravely, and watched as his cock was defiled.
It's amazing what a glass of bubbling soda can do. I'm told it burns, the bubbles exploding against a man's cock and causing him true pinpricks of pain. "Yahoooo! Mountain Dew!" Leslie cried, and Brent was forced to join in, watching his own cock's denouement. I held him in the glass, despite his flexing attempts to lift himself out of it. I made him take it all.
When at last Brent surfaced, we took his dripping cock and stuffed it deep into Mindy. She shouted as she was forced upon him. He was big, she was nothing if not small. They merged like fire and water, sizzling, hungry but dueling, she a captive between Jasmine and Kerri, he guided by my own hands.
It took a long time to work Brent fully into Missy. She was too young for him, really, but we made her take him anyway. She must learn sometime, Jasmine said. She cannot just play little games forever. Remorsefully, but wanting to see my friend fucked, I deflowered her with my lover. Her blood stained the carpet. Jasmine said she would save the stain as a memory of little Missy's virginity. It was gone now. She was impaled on him. We rammed Brent into her belly again and again. When Brent was fully lodged, deep in her womb, I put my hands under his balls. I lifted them and I squeezed them hard.
"Give her your sperm," I said in a hushed voice. "Go ahead, I don't mind. She's my friend. It's my gift to her."
"Yessss," Brent gritted. He tried to fight his need but it exploded suddenly from him. Missy wept and shivered upon his huge cock. We made her take every last drop of him.
"You have been a good girl, Missy," Jasmine whispered. She kissed the girl when it was over. We lifted her off Brent. We took her from the room and walked her back to the West Wing. When we arrived, the DAs were gone. We tucked her into my bed. I slipped in after her, I was so exhausted.Kerri remained in my room with me. The others left. They went back to Brent. I was past loving him now. I loved myself instead. I lay in bed kissing Missy, not because I liked her but because she was there, and I wanted her softness against mine. She did not matter, only the pillowy softness of her breasts did, her little gasps, her rising and falling tummy. I felt womanly and I wanted to be a woman with her, the two of us survivors, suffering together and passing through fire.
Kerri pampered my bottom. She soothed lotion all over it. I felt loved, needed. I cared no more about Brent. I would leave in the morning, I told myself. Back to L.A. and the things I knew. I'd had enough adventures, for now. I'd grown up a little more. I yearned for familiar things, not whips or chains or huge phalluses, but simple dresses, and homework, and sensitive, gentle teachers.To join the North American Man/Boy Love Association, send $20 for a one-year membership. NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
"Naughty Naked Dreamgirls" (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others is copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder. |
13,362 | Cookie Recipe | "Vanessa, would you mind staying after class today to help me bake the cookies for tomorrow's PTA luncheon?" "Sure, Mrs. James." I put my books down and smiled at her. "Great." Mrs. James smiled at me and went to the door, locking it. I looked at her quizzically, then she began to pull the shades down over the windows. Outside, I heard all my friends laughing and preparing to leave school for the day.
I wondered why she needed to pull down the shades and lock the door, and figured that what my friends had told me about her was true - she was a horny dyke, and some very willing students had been her favorites in the past. Of course, I thought it was only gossip.
"You're my favorite student," Mrs. James said as she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a long roll of cookie dough. "And I just thought you'd like the chance to help put together the festivities." I watched her as she walked to the other side of the room again and pulled out a bottle of cocoa butter lotion.
"I know you've heard the rumors, Vanessa." I gulped. "Rumors?" She chuckled. I tried to seem normal. "Y-yes, Mrs. James, I think I have..." "Then you know why you're really here." I gulped. I watched her nonchalantly squeeze copious amounts of lotion on her hands. |
13,414 | The Wager | "Wanna bet?" says he. "Bulls are gonna kick ass big time! They're the champs, Michael is the best ever to play the game. There's no way those transplanted losers from Louisiana are gonna win!"
"The Utah Jazz have the best record in the NBA this year, babe. Home court advantage. They even beat the Bulls in both games they played this year. The Bulls will be damn lucky not to get swept, and you know it!"
"That's just like you, Ms. Science! Betting the percentages. I'll bet you even read the Vegas line and the team stats, too. No guts! Just play the numbers! What a wuss."
My ears started to turn red at this. Just because a girl graduates summa cum laude with a double major in physics and math, doesn't make me a passionless number cruncher! He wants guts? I'll show him guts! I'll put my ass where my calculations are!
"OK, you tongue-twisted Legal Beagle you! Little Mister 'This is the greatest city in the world, even if we can't balance the budget!', betting with your heart, not your head Bulls fan you! How's this for a bet? Loser gets spanked! Are you willing to put your cute little butt on the line, Richie?"
"Just one little spanking, from you? That's nothing! Besides, you girlie girl, when I win you'll probably welch and won't let me spank you. If you're so sure of yourself, let's make this bet worthwhile. Winner spanks the loser, bare bottom! After every game. And the series winner gets the loser as a spanking sex slave for the next month! Well, Missy computer geek, what do you say to them apples?"
I'd say I had him almost exactly where I wanted him! He _had_ just volunteered to become my sex slave for 4 weeks, my WELL SPANKED sex slave at that, and staring at his sexy body now, I could almost see him naked and over my lap, being spanked before he... Well, I could just SEE it, you know? I had to up the ante just a little bit more.
"Okay, big mouth! But here's how we'll do it. At the end of each quarter, the loser gets a spanking equal to the number of points scored by the leading team. On the bare bottom, by hand. At the end of the game, the spanking is the SUM of both scores, plus the hairbrush for the margin of victory. And the loser is the sex slave of the winner until their team wins! Series winner gets the loser's ass for a month, just like you said. Are those stakes big enough for you, Mister Hot Pants?"
The lady Mayor of Salt Lake City shook hands with the Mayor of Chicago, and the deal was sealed on national TV. Who needs Eli's cheesecake to make things interesting? |
11,205 | Crashing Waves | "Honey, did we bring a can opener?" Meg asked.
"I don't think so," I said, putting down the yellow real estate flyer I was browsing and walking into the tiny kitchen area. I pulled open a drawer. "There should be one somewhere."
"I looked in there," said Meg, slightly exasperated. I opened a drawer filled with dish towels and fished an old chrome can opener from beneath the mound of terry cloth.
"Voilà," I said, offering my wife the coveted prize. She smiled and kissed me gently, closing her eyes as our lips met. I put my arms around her waist and drew her close.
"Careful," she said, smiling. "I got a little sun."
"Sorry," I said, tickling her soft breast through her pale blue t-shirt. Meg turned and attacked the can of peaches.
We usually rented a house at the beach once or twice each summer. It's a four-hour drive to the ocean, but if the weather cooperates, there is no more relaxing way to spend a few days than lounging in the sun, riding the waves, or walking the beaches. It's a perfect, lazy vacation.
"Are you and Jack going to bring back some crabs for dinner?" Meg asked, spearing a slice of peach with a fork.
"I think that's the plan," I replied. Meg swallowed the peach and licked a drop of syrup from her lips.
Jack is an old friend of mine. We'd asked him and Terri, his wife, along with us on this trip. The house we were renting had plenty of space, and I hadn't spent much time with Jack since we both got married.
"Good," said Meg, "I'm starved. The sun always makes me hungry."
"Today was great," I said, reaching in the fridge for a beer. "I can't believe this weather."
"Where's Jack?" asked Meg, stabbing another peach.
"He's upstairs changing out of his swimsuit."
"Aren't you going to change?"
"No," I said. I took a long drink of the cold brew. "Mine's still dry. Jack and Terri were playing in the waves just before we came in, so their suits were wet."
"Oh," said Meg, chewing her peach.
I took a moment to admire my wife as she leaned on the counter, eating her sweet fruit. Her blonde hair had lightened considerably after four days of radiant sunshine and lay ungroomed and straight down to her shoulders. The slope of Meg's nose had burned a pale crimson, and she sported the white sunglass tan of a raccoon. Her baby blue t-shirt draped provocatively over her unfettered breasts, with a crease hanging between the slight bulges of her hidden nipples. I could see the last inch of her fluorescent green bikini bottoms as her lean, dark legs emerged and crossed to prop her back against the counter.
I counted myself lucky, spending my time staring boldly at the charms of a beautiful woman.
"What was that?" Meg asked, her mouth full.
"What?" I cocked my head and listened. A moan floated through the air. I shrugged, and another one came, louder. It sounded like Terri.
"Oh my God," Meg said, drooling the juice of her peach down her chin. She picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth, almost laughing. The moans grew into a rhythmic exclamation of breath. "Steve," she said, grabbing my arm, "I think they're fucking."
We took a few steps out of the kitchen. Terri's voice grew stronger, enthusiastic in her high-pitched squeals. I looked at Meg, whose blue eyes were opened wide with wonder. Jack's deep voice shook the beach house.
"Fucking hot bitch," he said. Meg melted slightly at the sound and bit her lip with a soft groan. Her hand blindly found and caressed my stiff cock through the slick cloth of my swimming trunks.
Terri's a petite woman with small breasts and a shapely ass. I imagined her bent over the bed as Jack stroked his prick beneath the globes of her butt. Laying in the sand, baking in the sunshine, I had dreamed something like that a few times before, but adding the live soundtrack of Terri's excitement, the "ohhs" and "ahhs" of her submission to Jack's dick, sufficed to make my mouth water.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Terri squealed.
"Their door must be wide open," I murmured. "We could try to sneak upstairs and peek."
"That wouldn't be nice," Meg said, short of breath. She kissed me, rubbing my dick furiously. I pulled her hard against me, fiery with passion as the sounds of the nearby fucking boiled my blood. Meg's tongue slipped hungrily between my lips. I slipped my hands down under the waist of her bikini bottom and squeezed Meg's ass.
"Yes!" screamed Terri upstairs, moaning harder. I pushed Meg's bottoms down her thighs as I bit at her neck. She pulled my cock out of my trunks. I pressed a finger along Meg's slit. The juice of her pussy drenched my hand.
"Fuck me," she said softly. Meg slid her bikini bottoms down her legs and with her arms around my neck, she lifted herself up and onto my rock. "Oooh," she wailed, loudly. I leaned over the sturdy dinner table and lay Meg back, thrusting myself into her damp cunt. The lines of her bikini shone in silhouette. Meg pulled her t-shirt up over her head, tousling her pale golden mane. Her breasts gleamed brilliantly white against the dark burgundy knots of her nipples and the warm brown of her tanned tummy. I stroked my prick into her, crashing her liquid breasts like the waves against the shore.
"Fuck me," Meg moaned, and with each dive of my dick, her groans grew louder. I had never heard her like this, but I loved these noisy expressions of her lust. "Gimme that cock," she yelled.
I picked up Meg's leg, driving myself deeper into her sea, and then twisted her over so her stark white ass shone over my thrusting stick. "Oh yeah," she screamed, "Oh yeah, fuck me, my pussy's so wet, oh yeah." Meg chanted as I pounded. She worked a finger down to touch her clit while I squeezed her bottom with both hands, pulling her hard against my throbbing dick.
"I'm gonna come," Meg yelled, "Oh God, I'm gonna fucking come." I drove faster, smacking her ass to hurry the pace. Meg squealed madly, wildly, insanely, shivering over my furiously excited fuck.
With a final sigh and shudder, Meg turned her head and smiled broadly. I looked over at the stairs where Jack and Terri crouched watching. Jack wore his trunks, but Terri just held a crumpled t-shirt in front of her chest. They smiled, seeming a little awkward but intensely aroused.
"Hey guys," said Meg, standing up boldly, putting her hands immodestly on her waist. "Mmm, you were so inspiring." Meg sat back onto one of the straight-backed chairs and tickled her damp pussy. "Well, who's up for something to eat?" |
13,505 | SHISH KEBAB | "Shish-kebab me," I say. "But don't let any of that sand get onto the travelling rug. There's no knowing where it'll end up."
"Get fresh with me," you say. "Thread yourself around me."
"Do me like a dinner," I say. "Let me soak up your heat."
As Carl Orff softly beats his lyrical tempo from the streamlined black plastic beachblaster on the folding table, I feel your oily prick snake its way up through my innards, weaving benignly but thrillingly between (not through---how careful you are, Antony) my vital organs. Till now, as I've told you several times, I've only imagined your prick going that far. Now it's happening. Double, double toil and trouble. My fire burns, my cauldron bubbles. But the great dramatist never envisaged anything like this scene.
"Oh, my," I gasp, locking my eyes onto yours. "Where will it end? It's in my chest now. I feel so full. So fucking full. So fucking full of Antony."
"And it's going further, Sue, darling," you say. "May it slide into your throat?"
"Yes, please!"
"And then may it enter your mouth---carefully?"
"Oh, yes. But shove it! I don't care for the 'carefully'. Shove it into my mouth. Let me bite the fucker."
"Stuff that 'shove it' idea," you say. "I don't want to fucking hurt you---or me." Your penis creeps gently along my relaxed throat and slowly enters my mouth. Your bloated rubbery glans, tipped with its own tiny dribbling mouth, deforms when it nudges my top incisors, and sprinkles what feels like a few tablespoons of your precome over my bottom lip and my chin. I scoop up some precome, baby-oil from your supernatural spring, and rub it on my cheeks and my ears. Between my fingers it forms webs as glisteningly iridescent as detergent bubbles.
I try to speak, but all I can do is gurgle, because my throat and my mouth are full of Antonycock. We gaze into each other's eyes. I put a finger between my lips and palpate your ruddy rude glans, on the side that's usually the underside but that's now the side touching my top incisors. I then nibble the eaves of your glans, and my incisors nibble the skirt of it. My bottom jaw moves from side to side so that my top incisors tantalise (I hope) the nerve-endings in your exquisite unvandalised frenum---the clit you have when you don't have a clit. That finger, and the gently sharp teeth rasping your cockhead, seem to be the trigger that detonates your cache of white explosive.
"I'm coming!" you say. "Sue, I'm coming! Do you feel it?"
I try to nod my head. Your fruitjuice fulminates from my mouth (still surprised after all these years) and onto my chin and my neck. The sight of it is the trigger for my own explosion, from my scalp to my toes and back to my scalp, and then, erratically, to an archipelago of electric nodes between (I wonder whether an acupuncturist could identify them). I start to shake. My legs clench you and release you, clench you and release you. My hips jerk jerk jerk. Gurgle. Without the benefit of subtitles written across my face I can only wonder whether you're clever enough to interpret the gurgles as: "I'm coming too. Oh God, I'm coming all over. Oh, Christ, why haven't I experienced anything like this before? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, my darling."
But, of course, I have experienced it before. It's just that each time seems better than the previous time.
I shudder and moan and splutter for a minute while you, with an unlikely gymnastic agility, allow your cock to reciprocate through me with a stroke of more than a metre. My mind dances to the shafting friction in my mouth, in my throat, in my chest, in my tummy and in my streaming crotch. With sweating brow you withdraw your cock from me till its tip comes down to my womb, and then you push it all in again. This time about thirty fucking centimetres of the luminous thing (it seems to improve each shining minute) emerges from my mouth. My eyes widen, and with one hand I grab hold of your slippery cock and cuddle it to dissuade the vain and veiny thing from retracting into its me-sized sheath. With my other hand I scoop up some cock-spittle from my neck and rub it over the distal end of your cock and over my oniontower teats and over the rest of my little breasts and around the stretching "Oh!" ring of my lips. ("Oniontower" is your choice of metaphor, bless you. You describe each of my tits as a pair of oniontowers: a smaller one atop a bigger one. Whenever we prepare onions for a meal, or whenever I come across a photo of St Basil's Cathedral, my nipples swell with blood and stand to attention. Because of you.)
I gurgle with another shuddering climax, and I lose control of my bladder. My buttocks and my thighs feel my piss soak into the travelling rug that separates us from the beach. More of your mayonnaise spills from your glans and drenches my hand. My eyes widen again, and I look into your eyes. I wink at you to tell you that everything's all right. You reach beneath yourself with a hand and collect some of my piss, still gushing from what now seems to have been a pretty full bladder. You rub my piss all over your smiling face, and you put some into your mouth, squish it around and swallow it. For the first time today I drink that surreal sight into my consciousness, and I flood my memory with all the earlier times and my imagination with all the times to come.
"Sue's piss," you say, and the final sibilant of that lovely phrase sprays some drops of me from between your tongue and your front teeth and onto my face. "Sue's fine piss. Fine Sue's piss. Your urine. Your bittersweet urine. Your chablis. I love your piss because it's yours. It's Sue's. You didn't faint, but you did the next best thing---you wetted yourself, you good girl. My darling."
Speechless I touch your lips with my fingers as you utter those wonderful words. I transfer some of my piss to your stiff teats (there's nothing vestigial about your nips, Tony---when they suckle me they take me all the way back to my infancy) and to your wispy armpits and to your tummy and to your hips. I yearn to put some on the ever-suckworthy tiny twitching mouth that you harbour between your bumcheeks, but now I can't quite reach it. I remember the first time you went off to work carrying not only a pastrami-and-tomato-and-cheese (or whatever it was) sandwich and a golden-delicious apple in your briefcase but also a couple of drops of my keepsake piss evaporating like eau de cologne from your cheeks, on your top ones and between your bottom ones.
We stay there, wordlessly stroking each other. Your glans retreats to just outside my lips, and when I kissingly purse my lips around your penis just below your glans my lips read your pulsing veins and arteries as if they're braille. What a message! What a medium! My fingers caress your glans. I still can't speak, but my circular fondling is designed to tell you that everything's still all right. You kiss my lips and your glans at the one time. You jerk some more semen out of your pouting slit and suck it into your mouth. You let the lotion (my usual trusty Ponds can jump in the lake, for the time being) ooze from your mouth onto my cheeks and nose and forehead and lips. I rub it into my smile with my hands. Shish-kebab sauce of the gods.
A few minutes later your penis starts to shrink slowly down through my system.When it retreats from my throat, I take three or four deep breaths and say:
"That's enough foreplay, Antony. Don't be shy, dear boy. You can take your finger out of my cunt now. Here, I'll show you what to do next." |
13,528 | Shields | "Shields down to 5 percent, commander," screamed the Weapons officer.
"Engine room, divert more power to the shields."
"I'm sorry, Commander. The inversion chamber has been damaged. I don't think Aaaaaaaaaaaargh...."
There was a crash, and the ship shook and tumbled through the sky like a leaf before the inertial stabilizer dampers kicked back online.
"Engine room, damage report? Where are you, Sneed?"
The voice sounded faint. "He's dead, sir. They're all dead. We're all going to die."
Danajane was terrified. What had she done to deserve this? She was a scientist, not a fighter - a very junior geological mapper, and this was her first tour of duty. This was supposed to be a simple surveying expedition, mapping out the geology of a promising-looking planet which, hopefully, could be used to provide much-needed colonization space for a burgeoning human population. Then came the signal for them to return to Station Theta. The peace talks with the Morgons had broken down, and rumor had it that their 6th battlefleet was in this quadrant.
So they had dropped their survey probes and hightailed it. They were only two light-years away from the station when, one by one, the entire Morgon battlefleet had materialized. In front of them, behind them, around them. They had fought the good fight, but were hopelessly outgunned by the strato-destroyers.
Suddenly, there was a huge crash and a rolling wave of flames as the doors disintegrated under the rays of the Morgon firethrowers. Danajane clasped her hands over her head and sank to the floor, screaming, as the battle raged around her.
"How many prisoners?"
"One?"
Harkass raised his left mandible. "Just one?"
"They fought hard, Sir, and there were no other females on board."
"Bring her to me," Harkass snapped.
She was paraded, shaking and terrified, in front of him. He looked down at her and then buzzed closer. She had a small, compact body, with a fresh, radiant beauty. A fresh peach at the peak of perfection. But to his eyes, she was puny and weak and would be hard-pressed to withstand the rigors of her forthcoming servitude.
"So, little one, what is your name?"
All she could hear was a series of grunts, whistles, and pops, none of which were very intelligible.
"I'm a scientist, not a fighter. Please don't hurt me."
"Get the translation phones, Skark. How these puny creatures ever hope to colonize space when they can't even perform simple translations is beyond me."
They placed the phones on her head. They were a bit awkward, as they had been designed for races with three ear cavities, but they sufficed.
"Who are you?" Karkass asked again.
"My name is Danajane, and I am a scientist from the survey vessel..."
"SILENCE. I am not interested in where you are from, just what you are. Are you a virgin?"
"What? Er, I, er, why do you want to know?"
Missilwhips are very effective. Designed for herding the stubborn, thick-skinned, and tempestuous missilcows, they proved devastating across the backside of a stubborn little human female. Danajane screamed piteously as the formic acid from the million little needles punctured her flesh. It was like being stung by a thousand jellyfish at once.
"I am getting angry. Now, are you a virgin?"
"Yes," she whimpered.
A collective sigh went up over the amorphous blob that formed the bridge crew of the Morgon destroyer.
"Strip her."
"No, please," screamed Danajane, fearing the worst, even though she knew that Morgons bred by osmosis. A single, controlled shot from the firethrower burned her clothes off, without so much as singeing a single hair on her body.
Harkass gazed at her nearly nude crotch. Most of the female captives had thickets of hair down there, but now he had one with just a small clump of fiery red tufts to match the blaze of her head. Fire red, it seemed appropriate somehow.
"Bridge forward one position," shouted Harkass.
A cloud of pink gas descended on her and bore her away.
The other females looked exhausted. They hung in their harnesses, covered in sweat and gasping for air.
Danajane was quickly maneuvered into position to match that of the other females in the long, dismal corridor. Her arms were strapped onto poles that stuck out from the clammy wall of the ship, and her backside was positioned on a U-shaped seat. Then her legs were bent down and strapped at the thigh, knee, and ankle, leaving her spread wide in humiliating shame. A tube was positioned just in front of her mouth. They then spent some time lining up a bulky-looking machine over her body. Finally, they strapped her waist firmly to the side of the ship. The pink cloud dissipated, and she hung in her straps.
One by one, the dazed women regained their composure. Then the one opposite raised her head and regarded Danajane.
"So you are the result of the fight, hey?"
"Yes, I'm Danajane. What are you, er, we all doing here?"
"I am Firstgun Top, formally known as Seethmantrica. What is your position?"
"What do you mean?"
"What did they say before you were brought down here?"
"Er, 'Bridge forward one position,' I think."
"So you will be a busy girl. A very busy girl. You are not a virgin, are you?"
Danajane blushed. "Er, yes. Why does everyone want to know?"
One of the other women laughed, a bitter, ironic cackle. "It is Harkass's Joke, putting a virgin into Bridge Forward one. He knows she will be in pain; it strengthens the shield."
"Don't mind Cargocover two. She's been here too long."
"Er, Seethmantrica, can I ask you a question?"
"Don't call us by our previous names; it is forbidden. I am Firstgun Top, and you are Bridge Forward One. Do you understand?"
"Yes?"
"So, what is your question?"
"Why are we here?"
"A good question, Bridge Forward One. We are supplying a very valuable commodity for the Morgons. You see, they need a certain compound in order for their shields to be effective. They searched the universe for it, and then, by chance, they found a unique source of that compound, which was available in liberal quantities when the conditions were right. They needed the compound for use in their continuing war with the Quageelers. Which is why they were bothering to negotiate with the Humans at all. They had a basic understanding between the two species, but then the talks broke down because they couldn't agree on the quantity of the compound generators that were to be supplied."
"Has this compound got anything to do with why we're here?"
"It has everything to do with why we're here."
"Why? What is it?"
"Pussyjuice," said Seethmantrica.
"What's happening?" screamed the terrified girl as the clanging of the alarm reverberated through the ship.
"You'll see," cackled Cargocover two.
Danajane tugged at her straps when she felt the machine between her legs suddenly throb into life. She looked around, searching frantically for some escape. She noticed that most of the girls were looking at her. Seethmantrica had her eyes closed in concentration. Suddenly, they snapped open.
"Relax, Bridge Forward One. It will be easier."
The probe rammed into Danajane, sundering her carefully hoarded virginity like paper. It was stiff and rough, like a very hard sponge.It lingered for a brief moment, then it started pumping frantically. Danajane twisted and turned as best as she could in the bondage, but the probe was brutal and relentless, pounding away at the center of her being as it tried to draw her precious fluids from her and into the shield mechanism. Meanwhile, the massage units kicked in, massaging every part of her body with warm fur. Her breasts received the most attention as they were gently kneaded while the nipples were teasingly sucked.
Wildly, she looked around and saw that most of the girls were similarly engaged. Soon, their moans of pain were replaced by moans of lust as the machines did their work.
A fire started to build in her belly. Onward and upward it roared until it seemed like her body could contain it no longer, and she orgasmed in a welter of juices.
"Bridge, forward shield up to 100 percent, sir."
The bridge took two hits simultaneously. The shield value dropped alarmingly.
Deep, deep down in the bowels of the ship, the young girl writhed in hopeless lust as the probe doubled, then tripled, its speed. Her head shook, whipping her hair backwards and forwards across her sweaty red face. Her feet drummed a tattoo as the orgasm hit, creating a white hot supernova of pure ecstasy.
The machine was rewarded with a gout of precious cream, and the shield value slipped up by ten percent. The probe thundered on.
The battle raged for hours with the ponderous fighting ships pounding each other like drunken bare-knuckle boxers. Finally, the Morgons started to yield as one by one, their shields lost their effectiveness or, in some cases, died completely.
Eventually, Harkass called off the fight, and his ships cloaked and hyperspaced out. He wasn't worried about the battle. There would be others, and he would be better prepared next time. He'd captured nearly two hundred new shield generators to replace those too worn out or sick to provide adequate cover. These he left behind to be integrated back with their species.
Just as he engaged the drive, he glanced up at the bridge forward one shield indicator. It still read 100 percent. He clapped his spartucles together. He was looking forward to testing her in the many great battles to come. |
13,581 | The Day He Did It | "Come on, Judy, you know you want to. All those times that you said no, you really wanted to go ahead. Let's go the last step."
"Richard, it's because I want to that I don't want to! Oh, I don't know, I'm not sure it makes sense to me either! It's just that I hate to trust someone like that until I'm really sure," she told him.
"You mean that after all this time you don't trust me?"
"Oh, oh, I guess I do, but... Oh, hold me!"
He held her body against his while she wept on his shoulder and made up her mind.
Finally, she looked up and nodded slowly, as he expected. He led her over to the little iron-frame bed he had in his apartment and softly kissed her as they sat.
They lay back and he pulled her body over his. As their tongues met, he reached behind to unbind her hair and let the black cloud of it settle over them. He ran his hands through the silky softness and along her face until the tears vanished. Then he tugged on the shirt she wore until a little bare skin peeped through, and he touched her there. She gasped, not so much from what he did as from what it meant as a first step toward an end that she still wasn't sure she wanted.
He continued to run his hands over her lower back, then on her stomach, then to the fastening on the bra she first let him under three months before, and no one else ever. The hooks came undone and his hands slid under and around to cup her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples and brought them erect, then she drew in her breath when his fingers twisted them.
The shirt and bra came off, and he lay her back to caress her breasts and dart his tongue into her mouth. She put her hand up to unbutton his shirt, then she timidly touched the hair on his chest. After a little, she moved her hand down to the bulge in his pants, a thing she had never done before. To anyone.
His hand went to the top button and then to the zipper on her jeans. Here she cooperated, helping him take them off. When she lay back wearing only panties, he pulled her to him and put his hand on her hip and held her to him.
"Oh, Richard, it's so nice to have someone who cares for me, someone I can really trust!" she whispered to him, to reassure herself.
Soon he began to remove his trousers, and she moved to lend a hand, breathing softly and half-beginning to cry again. Once that was done, he held her again until that wave of worry passed.
He gently touched her legs, upward and pressing his hand against her panties when he reached them. He raised his hand to the waistband and returned, now against hair and skin. His fingers touched her, finding her as damp as he thought she would be.
Her physical desire was very strong, and the way she soon gasped and trembled told him she was ready and aching for the next step.
"Judy, I don't want to sound unromantic, but we may stain the sheet. Would it be all right if I put a towel under you? The blood will wash out more easily from that. Also, this is the best time to put on a condom."
"Yes, Richard. That would be practical and sensible, and thinking of it -- of both -- makes me feel even more that I'm right to trust you in this. I want you very much," she told him.
He took the towel from the bedside dresser and spread it under her, lifting her by the legs. As he set her back down, he removed her panties and planted a quick kiss on the top of her pubic hair. Then he dropped his shorts and slid the condom over his bulging erection.
He lay back down and used his hand to stir her fires again, then moved over her and into position.
"It's a little higher, I think. I feel it going in... Oh, you're there! Oh, it hurts! It hurts a lot! I think you broke it, it just tingles now, it feels a lot better..."
The blood dripped onto the broad white towel.
His gentle motions relaxed her and awakened a strong drive in her body. He had been sure one was there, and he had been right in his estimation of her. Soon her legs lifted and wrapped around his back to pull him in. Her bucking hips and her gasping gave him the signal to quicken his strokes. Their climaxes were bare seconds apart.
When they broke apart and lay on their backs, he glanced at the clock-radio by his bed. "Nine-fifteen," he said softly.
His erection went down completely, and he removed the condom. She noticed that he touched the blood on it to the towel before discarding it.
After some minutes, he said, "Lying here and holding you would be very nice, Judy, but it could be better yet if we were more comfortable. What do you say to our taking a shower together?"
"That sounds naughty... Yes!" she replied.
When she got up, he took the towel from the bed and put it over his arm. As she walked by the open but curtained window, he reached out to stop her and kissed her. She responded happily, as he was sure she would.
Then he shoved the curtain aside, exposing her body to the three men standing on the street below, and he threw the towel with its bright red spot down to them.
"OKAY, GUYS, PAY UP! I SAID I'D FUCK HER BEFORE TEN O'CLOCK!"
He leaned out the window to shout. He expected her to stand frozen in shock. He did not know her quite as well as he thought, it seemed. She shoved him.
He landed head-first, five floors down. He almost hit the spot, but it hardly mattered afterwards. |
13,585 | Hothouse | "Do you want to go skinny dipping?"
Mike hadn't known Robin long. His parents had moved into this small New Mexico town a few weeks ago. How they hoped to maintain a low profile, Mike had no idea. He had a pretty normal relationship with his parents, although there was nothing typical about this family. Mike's mother, Charissa, was a microbiologist; his father, Jack, a geneticist. Both were brilliant, and both were dedicated to populating the barren land with genetically engineered plants that could survive the massive amounts of ultraviolet radiation now pouring through the ozone hole over North America.
Genetically engineered plants had been strictly controlled since the treaty of 2004, but a dedicated group of "greenies" wanted to bring about a radical solution--they wanted to introduce aggressive, totally new types of plants that would survive the radiation. The "establishment," however, wanted variants of standard crops and trees. What the greenies proposed was nothing short of an induced, accelerated evolution, pitting man against a nature of his own making. As far as they were concerned, the human species had no more right to survive than any other species on the planet. May the best bag of genes win. This attitude did not sit well with the "powers that be." The greenies were working, not just on introducing the odd gene or two, but on producing chimeras--mixtures of photosynthetic plants and sentient animals. Such an unholy mixture was heresy for the "establishment."
Mike had heard all those arguments before. Watching his parents dedicate their lives to a radical cause left him with mixed feelings. Living on society's fringes was not his first preference, but still, he loved his parents.
As Jack set up the basement lab, Mike and his mother went out to get some supplies. The shopping list raised some eyebrows at the local garden shop, but people were doing all sorts of creative horticulture these days.
A couple of weeks later, something very bizarre happened. "Bizarre" is hardly the word, but Jack had become his experiment. There had been an accident in the lab. Between electrical shorting, chemicals, mutagenic organisms, and who knows what, Jack had transformed into the first of these sentient plants that the greenies had been trying to make for so long. It was "Jekyll and Hyde" meets "The Victory Garden." Charissa was devastated. As far as she was concerned, Jack may as well be dead. From Mike's point of view, it seemed just typical. He didn't know whether to be mad or sad.
In any case, it was at that first visit to the garden shop that Mike met Robin. She was a senior, like him, and she appreciated his outlook on life; it made a change from the provincial, small-town mentality of the other boys. Somehow, their Friday-night football prowess, and their Saturday-night drinking excesses, failed to impress her.
Robin's relationship with her parents was normal, or dysfunctional, however way you look at it. She had always tried to please them. She got A's all the way through school, but it was never enough. Her dad, especially, would blow his top and ridicule her if she didn't meet his expectations.
This night was the last straw. Her dad forbade her from going out with "that weirdo, Mike." She ran up to her room, grabbed her every-ready overnight bag, and did the obvious thing: went to see Mike. She was in the mood for releasing some of that pent-up rebellion.
"So, how about it?" She looked confidently at Mike. He didn't really know what to say. They had kissed, hugged, held hands, but no more than that. She seemed like a smart, level-headed girl. But skinny dipping? That made Mike kind of nervous. He didn't make a habit of exhibitionism. But it was dark (night being the only time you could go outside anyway), and this was an offer he felt he couldn't refuse.
"You have a place in mind?" he ventured.
"Sure. I'll drive."
They drove up the mountains for 10-12 miles. Robin knew-hoped-that there wouldn't be anyone else out there on a Tuesday night. She was right. They walked along a trail and arrived at a waterfall surrounded by smooth rocks. It was a favorite watering hole in the old summers.
"Come on." Robin stripped off her sandals, jeans, cotton blouse, and bra--everything except her panties. "So not quite skinny dipping," Mike noted with much relief. As she dove into the dark waters, he stripped off, leaving his own boxers on, and followed her in.
"Isn't this great?" she screamed gleefully. She ducked under the surface, emerging right in front of Mike. "Well?"
"Yeah, it's been a long time since I've been swimming."
Robin moved closer, put her arms around his neck, and planted a long, sensuous kiss. Mike put his arms around her body and held her close. There had been a couple of girls before, but fleeting, rushed sex, not languorous lovemaking. He felt her small breasts and hard nipples press against his chest. Mike backed against a rock for support. They kept on kissing, gently nibbling, and licking each other's face, neck, shoulders, and exploring each other's mouths with their tongues.
"I'm getting cold," Robin announced finally.
"Me too."
Mike pulled himself up the rock and headed for his clothes. They had no towels, and so had to rely on the warm night air to dry them off. But then he looked over to see a truly astounding sight. Robin had swum around to the beach and was walking out of the water. The bright moon shone on her wet, perfect, white skin. Robin was tall, with long, slender legs and arms, a narrow hip and waist, long neck, and firm, round breasts bobbing only slightly as she walked toward him. Mike thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She came up and kissed him again. Mike sank down to the rocks and gently pulled Robin down to him. He started to kiss her on her chest, her breasts, but then Robin pushed him away, breathing heavily.
"No, Mike, not here. I don't want to do it out here. It's kind of spooky plus...well...I've never done this before, and I want it to be special."
"Sure. Where do you want to go?"
"Can't we go back to your place? Your parents are so liberal, so understanding."
Mike didn't know quite what to say. Ever since his dad had changed, plants had started to fill the house, and his mother seemed so out of it nowadays. But he knew he'd have to explain the situation at some point.
"OK, let's go." Mike drove back this time. Robin cuddled up to him on the truck's bench seat, and listened to him in disbelief as he explained his family's situation.
"Come on in." His mother was nowhere to be seen. She was somewhere around, probably upstairs. He had nothing to fear or hide from her.
Robin stepped in to what was now, literally, the living room. She looked around in wonder at the roots, vines, flowers, epiphytes, trunks, and leaves that covered the inside of the house. "This is amazing!"
They continued to make their way through the house. "This used to be the den," Mike pointed out. "Here, have one of these." Mike broke off a fungus from the side of a tree. "Is it safe?" Robin asked.
"Oh sure, everything is edible in this house." She chewed on the mushroom. It had an earthy, nutty taste.
"Now here's something that'll give you a buzz." Mike bent down and tore some small green leaves from a small plant. He put some in his mouth. "Here." He offered the rest to Robin. She put a couple of leaves in her mouth. It had no taste to speak of, but she began to feel lightheaded. "Wow, this stuff is like a drug." She began to feel a buzz and a sense of euphoria.
"Here's a good place." Mike sat down on a thick pad of moss and took off his jeans. He propped himself up on his elbow and invited her to join him. "Come." He patted the ground next to him. "Come join me." She lay down beside him. The moss felt luxurious. It was like laying on a carpet of soft grass. Mike looked down at her, then began kissing her, gently at first, and then passionately.At the same time, he undid her blouse, and both of them stopped for a minute to pull their shirts off.
"Roll around, like this." Mike laid down and rubbed himself against the moss, first on his back, and then his front. He smiled and felt his member get extraordinarily hard. He knew that Robin couldn't help noticing the huge lump in his boxers.
"Go on," he said. "You too."
"OK," she smiled back, "what the heck." She rubbed herself over the moss. When she stopped, she realized that she felt incredibly turned on as well. Sure, the midnight skinny dipping, intense foreplay, whatever that plant was, and lying here half-naked with a boy she really liked helped a lot. But after rubbing in the moss, all of a sudden her nipples were standing taut from her breasts, and she felt a distinct tingling and lubrication between her legs.
Both of them were now perched on their knees facing each other. Mike sidled up to Robin and resumed where he left off at the swimming hole. He took a nipple in his mouth, sucked on it, licked across and around it, and then moved to the other one. Robin lay down, and grabbed his hair, and pulled him against her. She couldn't believe the sensations she was feeling.
Mike moved down to her stomach, and then to her thighs, kissing all over the soft flesh. He reached up and grabbed the elastic band on her panties. He could see that she was thoroughly wet. He pulled them gently. She shifted her weight so that he could get them off.
Now he moved back up her thighs, to her mound covered with a sparse patch of blonde curls. He pushed on her thighs gently. Robin got the message and spread her legs. Mike lay between, and moved his tongue over her clit. She responded with a groan and a movement of her hips. He kept licking with his firm tongue, and cautiously inserted one finger, and then two. Within a few minutes, she was bucking against his tongue, moaning as if in pain. And then she moaned loudly. "Please," she said softly, "I want you. Now."
Mike pulled down his boxers. His penis stuck out straight in front of him, and harder than he'd ever felt before. Some pre-cum juice dribbled off the end. He leaned over her, supporting himself with one arm while the other hand guided his cock to the entrance of her pussy. He pushed in a short way, and then out, to lubricate, and then pushed a little further. He felt some resistance, but pushed on when Robin showed no signs of discomfort. He adjusted his weight onto his elbows. She put her arms around him as he stroked in and out of her, varying the rhythm. She lifted up her legs so he could push in even further. Before long, she started to moan again. By this time, he was ready to cum himself. He held on as long as he could, but the overriding urge hit him like a hammer. Robin felt the spasms within her, and she felt herself going over the edge again. She clenched down on the wonderful, hard organ with her, and felt waves of pain mixed with pleasure wash over her.
They lay that way for a while, and then slept, satiated.
Charissa and her husband looked on from behind some large leaves. "How wonderful!" she whispered. "Yes," Jack agreed, "she's beautiful." They watched the young couple sleeping in each other's arms.
Charissa sighed deeply and turned around to go back upstairs. "What's the matter?" Jack asked.
"I'm just sad that we will never be lovers again."
"That's not true," Jack countered. "We can still be lovers."
"Lovers?"
"Yes. Lovers."
"But how?"
"Let me show you." The iridescent lights that now were Jack swirled again and moved slowly up the stairs. Jack started to explain. "Nature knows no bounds in its efforts to survive. Look at the orchid. Some are designed to mimic the sexual organs of the male. The insect comes along and thinks it's mating, while the flower gets to pass on its pollen. Some fungi imitate the pheromones of insects, encouraging them to investigate and pass on its spores."
"So, what are you saying?"
"Look."
The plants had grown all around the upstairs sunroom, but plenty of light still came in. The floor was covered in leaves and mosses. But there, in one corner, was a giant, dark-red flower. Jack settled on the flower and seemed to disappear within it. "Come, darling."
Charissa moved over to the flower. The cloud emerged and enveloped her. She felt tingling and movement, and then it left her. She was now naked. Her shift lay on the ground at her feet, and she examined the flower. It had two huge, rounded petals facing each other, and a mound in the middle.
"Sit in the middle, Charissa."
Charissa gingerly lowered herself into the flower.
"Lean back." She allowed herself to relax. The petal behind her gave a little. Vines from the trees above snaked down and encircled her wrists and ankles, spreading her wide and moving her back even more. Charissa panicked for a moment. "Jack, what are you doing?"
"Relax. I only want you to enjoy this."
Then two more vines came down. She could see them very clearly. On each end was a large, soft cup. The cups attached themselves to her nipples and began to pulse back and forth. She could feel the suction on her breasts. At first, it was a little painful, and then she began to feel pleasure. Jack formed a dense cloud and concentrated on her lower sensuous zones. She felt a tingling sensation on her clitoris and then movement in her vagina. Her own juices frothed with the green pigments of Jack's mass. The combination of the sucking on her breasts and attentions down further were starting to have an effect on her.
Still, she was beginning to think something was missing, and then she gulped quickly. Out of the mound, in the center of the flower, emerged a long, red phallus. It looked like an obscene vegetable, perfectly mimicking the human penis. The organ was broad--much fatter than she was used to with Jack, her only lover. The "penis" grew lengthwise, reaching inexorably toward her vulva and penetrated her. Ever so slowly, the phallus pushed its way up her vagina. She threw her head back in ecstasy.
The purpose of the vines now became apparent. They wrapped under her back and legs, cradling her in the petal. Ever so gently, the vines swung her with small back and forth movements. She gyrated her hips against the organ, which she noticed now was covered in a red, oily substance. Together with her own juices and the plant's, it slid in and out easily, but firmly. She had never felt anything like this before.
"Oh, Jack."
"Yes, my darling?"
"I...I love you." She struggled to form the words.
"I love you too."
She felt herself peaking. She bucked against the organ, but the vines kept her in place. Nothing else seemed to exist at this moment except the intense heat emanating from between her thighs. At that point, she reached climax, but the motion became faster and shorter. More orgasms followed, and then the motion stopped, and she felt warm fluid pump into her body.
Charissa lay spent in the petal. The vines retracted. After a while, the organ withdrew into the base of the flower.
"You see, Charissa, we will never be apart."
She had so many questions. "What about the fluid?" A thin, white fluid was seeping out of her.
"That is my seed, Charissa. But it won't make you pregnant. Your body will absorb it so that wherever you go, I'll go. I can protect you and heal you. You'll see."
"But did you feel any...pleasure, if that's the right word?"
"Of course. I am this plant. The phallus is, literally, an extension of my own being. We can make love, just like this, any time."
"Just like this?"
"Yes." But the way she emphasized "just" led him to think she had something else in mind. "What do you mean?"
"Can't I have some control over it?"
"Sure. What do you want?"
Charissa began to stroke the base from which the phallus appeared. It started to push out again. She waited for it to come out to its full length, and then she slowly lowered herself onto the top couple of inches. She grabbed hold of its bottom half and covered her hands in the red ooze. With one hand, she tweaked her nipple; with her other hand, she stroked her clit, although it was very hard to do that when she was stretched out so far. And then another smaller phallus emerged right next to it.
"I can only fit one at a time, you know."
"But you have more than one hole," Jack suggested.
Charissa clicked. She carefully arranged the small phallus to enter her anus, and then she lowered herself and moved up and down slowly. The sensations were amazing. She had never been filled so completely. It wasn't long before she orgasmed. Only once this time, and not so intensely as the first, but very satisfying in any case.
Feeling just a little bit sore, she pulled herself off and lay on the soft moss. Charissa dreamed of many more pleasures with her husband in this new form of life. And she dreamed that her son and his young lover would be the innocent Adam and Eve of Jack's Eden. |
13,859 | Tomato Bitch | "So where are you from?" I asked her. Being on the bridge relaxed me: the traffic there was dense, but the noise seemed muted by the breeze, or the flow of water underneath us, or the vibration of the concrete. The engine fumes dissipated instantly in the open air. Interference brushed off into the open space around us, and I felt alone with her. But I couldn't think of what to say, so I asked her that.
"From Svitlaskianda," she said, "Which is part of what you call Far East Asia. But via the South Pacific, and via North Boston."
"Wait...Far East, North Pacific, South..."
"It's a strange history," she said, "If we ever have a few hours, I'll tell it to you."
I stared at the water below us. There were no well-formed reflections of the city on the river's surface -- neither the tall, angular, monochromatic towers, nor the lush green sloping banks -- everything sort of churned together, shapeless and mottled.
"I don't think I could talk about anything at all for a few hours," I said.
She looked at me curiously.
"Knowledgeably, I mean. I don't think there's any subject in the world I know enough about to just...lecture for whole hours."
She nodded with a trace of a smile. "I guessed that about you: that you got bored quickly." For a few seconds, I could see the grey flow of the river reflected in her eyes, then she looked up to watch the sun slash itself on the tall skyscrapers. I hoped the bleeding light would last a long time, mesmerize her with its poignant colors, lock her in with emotion. But it didn't; after a few seconds, she stood back from the rail and said, "Right, I have to go now." |
15,155 | Neat Nails | "Mr. Douglas."
Mike looked up from his grade book. Alana Stewart. She was sixteen, smarter than all of the women--and men--he knew. "Yes, Alana? What can I do for you?"
"You didn't credit one of my answers." She laid the paper in front of him, upside down to her, and tapped her forefinger on number 14. "Problem fourteen."
She held her finger there for a moment, and though he pretended to look at the problem, he actually examined her fingernail. Fashionably short, clean and manicured. It was painted with a clear coat of polish, possibly with a pink tint, that made it shine in the fluorescent light. The large white half moons of the base contrasted nicely against the healthy rose pink of the rest of the nail bed.
He did not even look at her answer as he marked the problem with a red plus: he knew it was right. He adjusted the grade at the top by three points and returned the exam to her. "There you go. Sorry about that." It was then, looking up at her again, that he realized that they were the only people in the room. It was the end of the day.
"It's all right." She folded the paper lengthwise, creasing it with her neat nails before tucking it into her blue calculus textbook. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Douglas." She flashed him a smile before leaving.
He got up from his desk and ran, almost stumbling over a student desk, to the window. He saw her come out of the building and pause as if looking for someone before continuing. She wasn't getting on a bus. She lived in town, and he knew she walked home.
Every day he saw her on his way to school in the morning as she trudged up the steep hill of Main Street that ended at the red brick school. Every day he wanted to stop and offer her a ride, but he couldn't. Shyness and fear, more the latter than the former, prevented him. Instead, he would try to pass slowly--but not so slowly as to arouse her suspicion--so that he could watch her. When it rained, she wore a red slicker, and between the swish-swish of the car's wipers, he gazed at her supple form shifting under the rubber sheath.
He didn't realize how long he'd been standing at the window. All the buses had pulled out. He moved slowly back to his desk and methodically packed his briefcase. He glanced around the classroom briefly before he turned off the lights and started down the empty hallway.
"See you tomorrow, Mr. Douglas." He played it back in his head, the way she'd said it and her smile. Sometimes he thought he lived for those tomorrows, to see her sitting in her desk in the front row with her head bent over the daily quiz. The fingers of her right hand were curled around a grey mechanical pencil, its point resting lightly on the paper as she read the problem. Then carefully, she would write out the equation. She drew sensual integral notations.
He lived on the east end of town in a small white one-bedroom home. He had no family or pets. He checked the black mailbox posted next to his door and shuffled through the envelopes. MasterCard bill, letter from his mother, Kroger circular, water bill, Penthouse magazine. He thrust his key into the lock.
It was quiet. It always had been since he'd moved in the year before. Part of him longed for noise; any sound would have sufficed. A dog barking or a cat meowing or children clamoring down the hall to greet him. Instead, there was just the sound of the mantel clock chiming the hour.
He tossed his briefcase onto the blue couch and, mail tucked under his arm, went into the kitchen. He wanted a beer. He dropped the mail on the table and opened the refrigerator door. Remembering something, he let the door close and returned to the living room. From his briefcase, he withdrew that day's quizzes and a red Bic ballpoint pen.
In the kitchen again, he sat at the table, an open Rolling Rock half drunk in front of him. He'd unwrapped the Penthouse and had opened it to the centerfold.
"Gross," he said out loud.
He graded a few of the papers. The scores were miserable. It had been a challenge to remain patient with many of his students. He found it hard to believe that they'd managed to pass algebra and trigonometry because they sure as hell weren't passing his calculus class. As he corrected some of them, he realized there was more red than black on the papers. He slammed his pen on the formica tabletop and pushed his chair back.
He picked up the magazine and studied the picture. The woman had exaggeratedly large features. That her big ass balanced her big tits was the only way he could figure that she didn't topple over as she stood. He pulled the picture closer to his face to examine her fingernails. They were only red dots on the page. He decided they were fakes, much like the rest of her.
He searched through the stack of papers for Alana's. Finding it, he took it, his pen, and his beer into the bedroom. Setting everything on the night table, he unbuttoned his blue chambray Oxford shirt and slid it down his arms. He hung it on the footpost of the bed. He stepped out of his brown leather lace-ups and sat on the edge of his bed to remove his navy blue socks. He lay them across his shoes before he stood and unbuttoned his khaki slacks. He folded them to preserve the crease and hung them over the bed's footboard. He wore only his blue cotton boxers, and he glanced at his window to make sure his blinds were shut. His neighbors, an elderly couple, were nosy, and on more than one occasion, he'd caught them unabashedly staring into his bedroom.
He walked slowly, thoughtfully, around the room. He held Alana's paper in his left hand and the beer bottle in his right. He stopped and leaned back against the chest of drawers. He had an erection. He put the beer bottle on the dresser top and slid his hand under the elastic waistband of the shorts and grasped his cock. He squeezed it and gasped with pleasure.
"Number nine is wrong," he murmured as he stroked his balls. He scraped them gently with his nails. It felt good.
He walked back to his bed and laid the paper on the maroon comforter. He pushed his boxers down to his knees and let them fall to the floor, and then he stepped out of them. His dick was fully erect, its head peering up at him as he looked down at it. He took Alana's paper again, first in his right hand and then deciding the left would be better, and lay down on the bed. He traced his finger along the underside of his cock, and it twitched. He cupped his balls in the palm of his hand and continued to read the paper.
"Number thirteen is right, but not the way I would have done it." He encircled the shaft with his fingers and rubbed the opening on the head. Some lubrication spilled out, and he rubbed it all over the head with his thumb. Then he brought his thumb up to his lips. He flicked his tongue out and licked his thumb.
"Everything else, though..."
He took his cock into his hand once again and stroked it in earnest. No more teasing. He wanted it. He clutched Alana's quiz in his hand so tightly that it crumpled between his fingers as he masturbated.
"...looks..."
He thought about her fingernails again, the way they had looked all shiny and neat. He thought about her strong fingers grasping her pencil as she wrote, the way when her lead broke she would tap--click!click!click!--and a new one emerged from the steel tip.
"...good."
He came, ejaculating all over the back of her paper. It rolled quickly down the paper, and some of it dripped onto his stomach. "Jesus," he muttered. That didn't usually happen. He sighed. Now he'd have to tell her he'd "misplaced" her quiz.
Still naked, his dick mostly erect but beginning to limp, he strolled into the living room. He took his grade book from the briefcase and opened it to section five, seventh period. He took another pen and scanned down the list of names until he found Stewart, Alana. Beside her name, he marked a bold, red A+. |
15,190 | Lament of a Failing Zero | "The best revenge is writing well."
- Faust
Erotically writing a tale to share,
Amusing, arousing, with genitals bare.
Teasing fast flashes of creamy white thighs,
Civil men growling as they feel their cocks rise.
I typed verbiage with flourish, one-handed albeit.
Six hours I labored to see the thing writ.
I came seven times as I narrated the facts,
Roundaboutly converging to a sloppy climax.
I dashed my fresh prose off toward erotic venues
To feed my friends fodder for their night-alone blues.
Jots of lettered excitements became my well-earned prizes:
"I'm still wetly throbbing having read those sweet lies."
But as I reveled in my tale's untarnished glory,
While the effusive few offered thanks for my story,
Writing's treacherous adepts of the critical art
Sharpened fierce talons to claw out my heart.
For the sake of the readers, we submit to this trial,
Bear nitpicking outbursts of sedation and bile.
Feel the harsh sting of a rogue's knavish wit,
Endure coarse banalities typed by some ruffian's mitt.
The Reviews deemed celestial took the first shot,
Degrading my prose as a mountain of rot.
Deriding some old text to prove she knows more
About juvenile tastes than the expositive core.
The voice of the Annex fell low as she leveled her bead,
Called my imagery flat, cast of words we can't read.
"Much too long where the orgy should clearly be brief,"
Another ship rent asunder on the shoals of her reef.
The polyandrous one joined the fray with light fire,
Condemned arcane words to a grand funeral pyre.
Damned grammar quite dead with fragments misspelled,
Derision ironic crushing wordplay un-yelled.
Now Rosemary jumped at the chance to insist
No credit be granted for the chances I'd missed
To beguile mystery, feed her bloody good fun.
"Stand yourself ready!" while she aims her keen gun.
Though deflated by critics, I sit back again
To spend my frustrations with my virtual pen.
I'll revenge my harsh critics, let them slowly burn
On the spit of their too-brutal tongues; Then they'll learn,
Gnashing their fangs, of the morsel I'm crafting -
A bawdy old lovely with foreplay and aft-ing.
A tale, quite scrumptious, glowing bright on my screen,
A piece d'resistance carved in each sordid scene.
~A smiling blonde motions me, quick, get inside
~Between the full racks of petite clothes I glide.
~In a bare dressing room, check the mirror to reflect
~While her unzipped skirt slips down-thigh direct.
~White pantyhose shroud her best shadowy sights
~As her sapphire sweater lifts to expose rich delights:
~Succulent breasts, lush ripe melons, thick dark nipples
~Barely encased in a black satin bra, divulging in ripples.
~She sits while she looks in the mirror, her eyes gleam.
~Thumbs in her waist, she pulls the nylon downstream.
~Beneath the gold bush spreads soft lips of wet pink.
~I lick my lips hungered, while she teases her mink.
~"Is this too short?" asks some girl's voice from above.
~"I love to go shopping," my friend purrs, "and I love
~The way you've been watching me, out there and in here.
~Now I want you inside me; my mouth, cunt and rear."
And though my critics search to black-hearted content,
Write demanding that these folios be forthwith sent,
I'll steadfastly deny scoundrels all the joys of this draft,
Leave the masochists to spread wide for the critical shaft.
Rest assured that my ditty, quite enduring in paces,
Will soon become famous in all the right places.
And in the dying last echoes of this praise unrestrained,
We'll hear wails in the desert, critics unentertained. |
15,207 | Practice | "You're kidding!" Debbie was obviously amused, and I didn't like the way this was going. Nancy, who lives in the apartment across the hall, had just told her about our experience that very afternoon. You see, Nancy, who works in a doctor's office, had convinced Debbie and me that we ought not to put off having physicals. I'd just finished mine, but not without an embarrassing moment. After having been shown into the examination room, in walks Nancy, telling me to undress.
She didn't leave either. She just stood there waiting.
"Uh, I feel funny doing this." I was slowly unbuttoning the first buttons of my shirt. So slowly, in fact, that I wasn't likely to be undressed before midnight.
"Whatever for?" She sounded genuinely surprised. I couldn't believe that she wouldn't see the oddity of the situation.
"Well, knowing you and everything."
She smiled, stifling a giggle. "Oh, is that it? I *am* a professional, you know. I *do* see men undressing every day and don't even think about it."
"Yes, but it's so weird... doing it in front of my next-door neighbor."
"Well, get over it. We can't wait here all day."
"Can't you just... have the other nurse, uh, take care of me?" She left, mumbling something as she went out the door. Another nurse came in a minute and asked me to undress to my underpants. She left while I was undressing, and well, the rest of my physical went along without incident.
But now Nancy was amusing Debbie with the story. "You really were too embarrassed to get undressed in front of Nancy?" she asked. I could see she was suppressing a laugh. How do I get myself into these things.
"Well, I don't think it's so strange..."
"Oh, honey, don't worry about it. You'll get over it by next time." She was still smiling.
"Actually, he'll probably be all-the-more nervous," piped up Nancy.
"Like waiting too long after you've fallen off a horse?" returned Debbie.
"It would do him good to work through this right away." Suddenly I felt a nervous twinge. These two were getting too many silly ideas.
"Well, what do you say, honey? Want to work on your problem?"
"You two are crazy!" I blurted.
"Definitely needs help," said Nancy.
"Come on, honey," added Debbie. She walked up to me and said more softly, "Not *man* enough to face up to your fears?" The grin she was hiding ate at me. "Do it!" she continued.
"We'll celebrate later," she whispered. "Do it."
Now she didn't look so amused. She looked serious. I stood there, staring at her but didn't say a thing.
"Good!" said Nancy as if it were all settled. Debbie walked back over to her. "Take off your shirt and undershirt," ordered Nancy. She used a business-like voice and also didn't seem to be laughing at me anymore. Debbie smiled an encouraging smile and nodded at me to go ahead. I took them off. I stood there, not believing I was doing this.
"OK, your shoes and socks," continued Nancy. They watched as I sat down and removed them.
"OK, stand up and take off your pants." I felt like this was it. I was wearing briefs and wouldn't be much hidden. I felt a lump in my throat, but I did it and stood up.
"Very good," said Nancy. Debbie looked a little surprised. I wondered if she would burst out laughing. "Turn around and face away from us," continued Nancy. I did it. Nothing. They were just looking at me?
Then I felt hands at my side, pulling down my briefs by the waistband. I was uncovered! Whichever it was left them around my knees. I felt someone move away again.
"You're doing very well," came Nancy's voice, "isn't he?" she added.
"Uh, ... yes!" Debbie sounded a little breathless. I stood there, not believing my predicament. I heard them walking and then they were in front of me, still keeping their distance.
"Good! Just stand there but spread your feet." I spread them until the briefs were stretched as far as they could go--not much, but a little more.
I know what you're thinking. Yes, I was beginning to get hard. They were both just staring at it.
"A little show!" Nancy finally added. "Don't worry, we get that often enough." It was definitely getting harder. Debbie was grinning.
"OK, that's enough of that," said Nancy, "take them off, go in the bathroom and take care of yourself. You'd better be soft when you come out." I couldn't believe this. I just stood there in shock.
"Well, honey, you heard her," added Debbie, still grinning, "or are you going to... ?"
"I said, take them off!" added Nancy. I finally did it and headed for the bathroom. I'm too embarrassed to go into that further, but I heard them talking while I was in there, and I finally came out again, still naked but soft.
"Well, I think he is coming right along," said Nancy. "You can get dressed again," she added, and she drew Debbie into the kitchen, leaving me alone.
That night Debbie was a wild woman--and I was definitely up again for it.
The next evening, I answered a knock on the door, and Nancy barged in. "Well, don't just stand there, get your clothes off!" were her first words, as soon as I'd closed the door again. Debbie and I had been watching television. I stared at her open-mouthed and looked at Debbie. She was still lounging on the couch, but far from protesting, she had an expectant look on her face.
"Quickly," hissed Nancy. I don't know what made me do it, but I did it. Quickly, too. Soon I was standing nude by the door. Nancy had walked over and sat on the couch next to Debbie where I had been.
"Come closer and stand next to that table," Nancy added, indicating a spot about six feet from them. They watched me walk over. Nancy was stealing glances at the TV and was soon asking Debbie about the show.
She looked back toward me for several seconds. "Good," she said and looked back at the TV. "He *is* getting better about it," she added to Debbie after a little while. Debbie stole glances at me, and I thought I detected a smirk.
And I couldn't help it. Yes, I was getting hard again. It was so weird, and I wondered about myself.
"Interesting," said Nancy when she looked back at me. She smiled, stood up, and walked past me. She came back with my briefs and held them out.
I took them. "Take care of yourself right here, using those to prevent a mess." I stared at her. "It's nothing! You think nurses don't know how men's bodies work? Do it!" I still stared.
She put it on my cock, wrapping it around the end and pushed my hands so one was holding my cock and the other was holding the folded underpants on the head. Then she walked back to the couch and sat down. "We're waiting," she added.
I stood there. Soon I was doing it. I was breathing harder. Standing up made me feel it in my head more. I was coming. I came. They were both watching me.
"He's definitely getting better about it," said Nancy. "Hold it 'til you know you're done," she added, and I just stood there.
A few minutes later, she added, "OK, take those away and put on some fresh ones." I left immediately.
"That was *amazing*," Debbie whispered in my ear that night. But what immediately followed was *more* amazing.
I was meeting Debbie at a restaurant after work. When I walked in, she was already sitting. And with her was Nancy and another woman I didn't know. They introduced her as Susan, a nurse friend of Nancy's. I could tell from their drink glasses that they had been there for at least a little while.
"So Nancy's been helping you with a problem getting undressed in front of nurses," volunteered Susan as soon as I sat down. I couldn't believe this!
"Oh, he's coming along fine," said Nancy. Debbie grinned.
"Well, I could check his progress," said Susan. Debbie giggled.
"Go ahead," said Nancy, "it would do him good. Go with her," she added to me. Susan stood up and came over next to me. I looked at them all. Debbie looked like she might stand too, but Nancy held her arm. No one objected. Susan stood there. I got up and followed her.
She led me out the front door and then around to the back of the restaurant. It was dark and deserted, and she found a spot by the back wall out of sight of any door.
"OK, get undressed," she said. I felt panicked. Yes, it was dark and deserted, and no one was around, but anyone could walk around behind and run into us!
"Not quite trained I see," she said. "Get undressed! Now!"
Yes, I did it and was soon there, standing nude with my clothes in a heap next to me.
"Well, you finally did it. And it looks like you're enjoying it, but we can't have that while you return. Take care of your hardon." She just watched and waited.
"I said take care of it! Jack off!"
Yes, I did it, right there in the back of the parking lot. And then she had me get dressed again, and I followed her back inside.Debbie and Nancy were still sitting at the table. I looked at Debbie again... she looked a little scared. "Don't worry," said Susan, "I didn't come within 2 feet of him the whole time."
After we ate, we all left together. Susan wanted to show them where she took me. We were out back again.
"Well, show us how you stripped," said Nancy. The three of them stood watching me. Soon I was nude again.
"What do you think, Debbie?" asked Susan. Debbie giggled, sounding a little nervous. "Debbie, do *you* ever have trouble undressing in front of nurses?" she went on.
"Oh, no, that's just my husband."
"You sound a little reluctant. Why don't you show us?"
"No, I... I don't have any problem..."
"Well, then show us," Susan went on. "Show us and I'll believe you." Nancy didn't say a thing. "Just show us."
She sort of guided Debbie over to where I was standing.
"Take it off! Your *husband* can do it!"
She started doing it! Her blouse, shoes, shorts, bra and panties. I stood there, amazed.
"Are you excited?" Susan asked, more quietly. She walked up close to Debbie and I saw her hands go to Debbie's body. She withdrew in a flash.
"Better take care of that, Debbie," she said. "Both of you," she added. The two of them stood there watching us. Debbie looked at me, obviously nervous. She put one hand on her breasts and one to her crotch. I wrapped my hand around my cock again.
"Good," said Susan. Then she waited. We both did it -- brought ourselves off. I think we came at the same time.
"Now that's cute," said Susan and she told us to get dressed again.
The next day when I got home, Nancy was there again. Debbie looked very nervous. There was a knock on the door and I opened it to find Susan and another woman. She was younger and Susan introduced her as Wendy, another nurse. I noticed Wendy looking at me.
"Well, show us how you get undressed," Susan said to me. Maybe I *was* losing some inhibitions--I was nude in seconds. I looked around. Wendy was staring at me. Debbie looked nervous.
"How about *Nancy*," said Wendy. Does *she* have these sorts of problems?
"Not me," said Nancy. I looked at her and was amazed at the expression on her face. I thought she might dart from the room.
"Show us!" said Susan, sweetly. She looked right at Nancy and grinned.
"I don't *have* any problem!" said Nancy, more vociferously. Susan and Wendy just stared at her for a few seconds.
"Then get undressed," said Susan, finally in a quiet voice. She did it! Soon it was Nancy and me standing there nude. Debbie was agog--I think she was surprised out of her nervousness.
"What do you think, Debbie?" asked Susan. Debbie was immediately tongue-tied. I think she thought they'd be ordering her to strip next. But Susan just laughed at her.
Susan told Nancy and me to lean over the dining table. I looked back to find her with rubber gloves and K.Y. jelly! She told us she was going to get us used to medical procedures!
She put jelly on my rear. "Relax," she said and I felt her finger pushing. Probing. "Put your hands on the back of your neck," she said. I was getting hard. Still she pushed and probed. Two fingers.
Then she was out and I felt a sting on my ass. She had slapped it. Then she had another glove on and was doing the same thing to Nancy! I watched Nancy lay there with her hands on the back of her neck. Then I heard three slaps on her rear and she jerked each time.
Then they had us get on our hands and knees in the middle of the floor. Debbie served them drinks and it seemed like forever that we stayed there. I was so hard.
They asked Debbie for scarves. They had us stand up. They tied my hands behind my back and they did the same to Nancy. Then they left, taking Nancy with them! Across the hall, still with her hands bound! They told Debbie to have fun.
As soon as the door closed, Debbie was immediately kneeling in front of me, my cock in her mouth. She was so crazy!
The day after that, coming home from work, I opened the front door and couldn't believe my eyes! Nancy and Debbie were both standing there, nude, with handcuffs on! Wendy was there with them, but I didn't see any sign of Susan. They were both gagged, too, with ball gags--obvious S&M paraphernalia. She had a belt in her hand, looped double and was standing behind them.
She ordered me to strip and I was nude in seconds. She handcuffed and gagged me and led me to standing next to the others. Then she led us into the bedroom and put us on our knees, laying over the edge of the bed. She put something on each of our ankles, binding them together, and then she invaded each of our rears with her rubber-encased fingers. She got two, then three, then four fingers in me!
Someone else entered the room. "My man likes girls *and* boys," I heard her say. |
15,213 | SPAM CONTEST | "So!" the old man barked from behind the gargantuan desk, his rheumy eyes swimming as they struggled to focus. "Johnson, is it? Information Services?" Extending a yellowed fingertip, he flicked the ash from the end of a long dark cigar. The embers flaked off onto his jacket sleeve, where they rested unnoticed, blackening the grey fabric.
The young executive standing at attention cleared his throat and spoke in a timid voice. "Actually it's Johnson, sir. Information Services."
The old man gestured vaguely at him with the cigar. "Quite right, quite right. Infotainment it is. So what exactly are you here for, Johnson?"
The young man swallowed hard. "The special project, sir...you know, the Web Site we discussed last week?"
The old man blinked several times and scratched his chin. "Web Foot? I don't recall any --"
"You remember, sir," the young executive interjected. "The computer plans? For the Internet?"
"Internet?" grated the old man. "Computers? What kind of -- Oh! That thing with all the 'w's...what was it...comdot-w-something..."
The young man mopped his brow surreptitiously on his shirt cuff. "That's right, Mr. Hormel, sir. The web site. 'www.spam.com.' Our new advertising campaign."
The old man rumbled in assent, the rumble turning liquid and viscous. He coughed and spat, aiming for a brass spittoon which sat on the floor near his desk. He missed, and his ejaculation left a spot on the carpet. It gleamed wetly.
"Spam on the computer! What won't they think of next!" He chuckled and smiled. "What would Old Grammy Spam have thought of that, I wonder." The old man sighed. "So how's the project going then, in your estimation?"
The young executive was sweating noticeably, perspiration staining his jacket beneath his arms. "Well, sir, there's no easy way to say this, but...we seem to be encountering some difficulty with the site, sir."
The old man scowled at him. "What's that? Explain yourself!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hormel," the young man stammered. "I've never seen anything like it before! For the first few days we didn't have any hits at all. That is, nobody with a computer seemed to want to visit spam-dot-com, sir."
"Whyever not?" the old man exploded. "Who could ever have anything against Spam? Everybody loves Spam!"
"That's exactly what I wondered, sir. Especially after we started getting these messages from visitors. 'I hate Spam,' one said. And 'Get off the Net, you good-for-nothing Spam Bozos!' And some I can't even repeat, sir, they were so hateful and...vitriolic. I just never expected to find so many people out there who feel so negative about Spam!"
The old man grunted in assent. "Downright un-American, that's what it is. To write something like that about Spam...why, we're an institution! A national treasure! Hell, without Spam our boys could never have marched to hell and back to save our great country...damn kids nowadays, no respect, that's all. Just no respect..." His words trailed off and his eyes closed, and the young executive feared he had fallen asleep. Then he slowly opened one eye and gazed balefully at the young man in front of him. "So that's all you have?" he demanded. "Them computer geeks hate Spam?"
The young man reddened and loosened his tie. "There is one promising sign, Mr. Hormel. I found it on the newsgroups, which is where some of the more creative types hang out online." The old man frowned, and the executive hurried to continue. "It seems that some of them are holding some sort of Spam Contest, sir. They're offering some sort of prize, and there seems to be significant interest out there."
Two shaggy white beetle-brows lifted in unison. "Spam Contest?"
The young man nodded vigorously. "That's right, sir. I haven't had the time to read any of the entries, but thousands of them are pouring in every day. And a lot of them are in capital letters, which apparently indicates excitement and enthusiasm, or so I'm told."
The corners of the old man's mouth twitched. "Enthusiasm? Excitement?"
"Yes, sir. They have some odd ideas for contest entries, though. A lot of them start off with exclamation points and stars, and then tell people about the Spam sites in cyberspace." The old man was incredulous. "There's OTHER Spam sites out there besides ours?" he asked.
"Apparently so," the young man responded. "And a lot of the entries are from women -- there's a Kim, a Tara, someone named Sabrina, a Barbie...too many to count, sir. Some of them talk about how 'it tastes so good,' and how all these girls and their friends just love it. I've seen 'I NEED IT' and 'I LOVE IT' and 'I WANT IT' over and over again, sir. Then there were a whole group of celebrity entrants -- I saw Wayne Gretzky, and Magic Johnson, and Marv Albert, and a whole bunch of other famous people who apparently have a special taste for some kind of Pink Spam dish. But some of the messages are kind of strange, though. There's one that said 'GIRL 18 BI' that I just didn't get at all."
"Hmm," the old man mused. "Maybe it's a girl who wants to buy eighteen cases of Spam?"
"I'm not sure, sir. But there do seem to be a lot of BI GIRLS out there -- that's odd...they all spelled 'buy' incorrectly -- so you may be right. The weirdest one I can't figure out for the life of me. 'YOUNG, DUMB, AND FULL OF' -- I can't make this last word out, but I think it might be 'RUM,' sir."
The old man behind the desk meditated thoughtfully. "Yung dung...? Dammit, I can barely even say the words! What was that again? Yum Dum...?"
"Young Dumb, sir."
"Sounds like Chinese food to me. 'Young Dumb and Fulla Rum.' What's that got to do with a Spam-Eating Contest?"
The young executive scratched his head. "Honestly, sir, I haven't the vaguest idea. To be honest, I'm not even sure that the contest is about EATING Spam at all. There seems to be a lot of sucking going on in the entry titles, and that just doesn't sound like Spam to me, sir."
The old man dropped his cigar on his desk and sat bolt upright, his eyes wide. "By gum!" he said, nearly shouting. "That's BRILLIANT! What a tremendous idea! Liquid Spam! Why haven't we ever thought of that before?"
"Erm...LIQUID Spam, sir?"
"Absolutely! It's healthy and tasty, good for you and your whole family. Why, it's even packed with nutrition and vitamins for children. Babies, Johnson! Even babies could get their Spam!"
The young man looked thoughtful. "Maybe, sir, just maybe. That might be what those contestants might've meant when they kept talking about 'sucking' and 'nipples' in their posts."
The old man smacked his palm on the surface of his desk, oblivious to the fact that he had just crushed his cigar. "Exactly!" he expostulated, and he rubbed his hands together. "We could use that tagline you just mentioned -- 'Young, Rum'...no...'YOUNG, FUN, AND FULL OF SPAM.' That's it!"
The young executive nodded vehemently, his face aglow with the prospects of spearheading this nationwide campaign, his future corporate success and career advancement now assured. "Yes, sir!" he crowed. "We'll do it! We'll take the world by storm!"
The old man lurched to his feet, leaning on his desk for support. "Go to it, Johnson! Spread the word! As of right now...
...SPAM SUCKS!!!" |
13,643 | Faster than Light | "You don't believe me?" Rick asked.
"Well, no. I guess not," said Brian.
"You think I'm going to lie about something like that?"
"Of course you would. It depends what's at stake, but if you had some scheme in mind, you'd say just about anything, Rick."
"I can't believe what I'm hearing."
"Rick, I've known you, what? Twenty years? You'd sell your mom to get some skirt. Remember when Judy was coming down for the weekend and you told Liz that you were going in for surgery..."
"All right, all right." Rick's grin confessed to the charge. "But I'm not shitting you this time. I saw Tommy boffing Cheryl."
"Cheryl Sanders?"
"The one and only."
"You're a liar. What's the angle?"
"Look. Hey, Steph. Come over here."
"Rick, Brian. What's up?"
"Rick says..."
"Wait," Rick interrupted. "Let me remove all doubt."
"About what?" asked Stephanie.
"How long have you known Cheryl?"
"I don't know. Six years?"
"Do you think she'd cheat on Jerry?"
"Never. Not in a million years. You going after married women now, Rick?"
"Nope. Not Cheryl, anyway. Jerry's a friend of mine."
"Didn't stop you when Angie..."
"All right," interrupted Rick. "I just have one question. Does Cheryl have a birthmark on her tit, right there?"
Steph slapped Rick's jutting finger away from her breast. "Well," she said.
"A lopsided heart?"
"Yeah. How did you...? Rick, did you...?" Stephanie's brow tensed angrily.
"No," Rick said emphatically. "I went back to the house to get my other pair of sunglasses."
"Time to trade the early morning pair for the mid-morning ones?" asked Brian with a smirk.
"Mark sat on the one's I was wearing while I was swimming, funny boy. Do you want to hear this or not?"
"Shut up, Brian," said Stephanie, as she sat down in the warm sand.
"Thank you," said Rick. "I went back to the house and just as I reached for the back door, I thought I heard Cheryl say, 'Fuck me, stud.'"
"Oooh," said Stephanie, leaning forward.
"I stopped dead in my tracks. There was some rustling and a faint moan. Then I thought, I just saw Jerry go with Steve and Allison up to the boardwalk. So then I'm thinking that I must have been wrong, it couldn't be Cheryl."
"But it was," said Steph, anticipating.
"I slowly got down on my hands and knees. I started to crawl toward the window. Then Cheryl shouts, 'What a hot cock!' She was really excited about it."
"I can't believe it," said Stephanie. "Cheryl? I've never heard her say anything dirty."
"I couldn't believe it either. I thought one of the guys had brought some bimbo back to the house. So I crept closer and peeked in the window."
"That is so twisted," said Brian with a smile.
"I wish I had my camera. Now, that would have been twisted. Anyway, I peek into the back bedroom and there's Tommy sitting on the bed with his trunks at his ankles and Cheryl's kneeling in front of him, sucking his dick."
"Wow," murmured Stephanie. "I wouldn't have guessed she'd do anything like that. She always blushes and runs off when we talk about stuff like that."
"Well, Cheryl may not talk the talk, but I don't think it was the first time she'd sucked dick. Very enthusiastic performance. Beautiful titties, too. Bigger than I'd noticed before, and big dark nips. And a birthmark."
"That's Cheryl," Stephanie confirmed, nodding.
"So then," Rick said in a low voice, "she pulls down the bottom of her swimsuit and wiggles her white butt while she's going down hard on Tommy's dick. I thought I'd blow a load, just watching."
"Rick," said Brian, blushing. "I don't think we need to know all the details."
"Shut up," said Stephanie. "Is he big?"
"Not bad," said Rick. "I mean, it was pretty long but slender. I'm no judge of meat, but Cheryl seemed to like it."
"Mmm," said Stephanie, licking her lips. "I wonder if..." Manicured nails scratched a gnawing itch under her bikini.
"Well, you'd better get a piece before Jerry finds out," said Rick. "Can you say 'justifiable homicide?'"
"You can't tell Jerry," said Stephanie, suddenly serious.
"Not me," said Rick. "But I've never seen a secret like this one kept quiet long."
"You guys tell Jerry and I'll mess you up," warned Stephanie.
"Capisch. So Cheryl's going to town and I'm thinking Tommy's going to blow but then Cheryl climbs on top of his rod and jams it into her pussy. She was so wet I could smell it."
"Wow."
"She starts riding like she was galloping to freedom. Tits bouncing, Tommy's groaning, Cheryl's just spewing obscenities; 'Fuck, suck, bitch, cock, fuck, dick,' and then she squeals so loud I thought the whole gang was going to come running up from the beach to save her."
"What's up?" asked Liz, sitting down between Stephanie and Rick.
"Rick caught Cheryl fucking Tommy."
"No way," said Liz, her eyes lit up.
"Sure as shit," said Rick.
"Does Jerry know?" asked Liz.
"Not yet," said Brian.
"Not ever," said Stephanie, the menace returning to her voice.
"What about Terri?" asked Liz. "Aren't she and Tommy a thing?"
"Naw. She dumped him a while back."
"Good for her."
"I didn't know that."
"Someone told me that she was..." Brian's voice trailed off.
"What?" asked Stephanie.
"She was seeing someone else."
"Where's Jerry?"
"He wanted some fries."
"Here comes Cheryl."
"You guys just shut up. Okay? Let me talk to her."
"I want to know," said Rick.
"In your dreams," said Stephanie.
"You'll tell me everything, Steph, or I'm talking to Jerry."
"Okay. Now just shut up." Stephanie growled at the gang in the sand and then turned to the figure descending from the sparse hill of sand dune. "Hey, Cheryl. Have you seen Tommy? I need to talk to him."
"Um, no," said Cheryl, blushing.
Liz and Rick fell over in an explosion of laughter. Brian got up and shading his eyes, looked toward the distant boardwalk.
"I need some fries," he said, shaking his head and taking hold of his prone friend's shoulder. "C'mon Rick, let's get something to eat.
"Sure," said Rick, wiping his eyes with a sand coated hand. "But you don't call me a liar anymore."
"Shit," said Brian. "That's the least of your worries. Let's go." |
13,707 | The Sauna | "Alan?" inquired Nina.
"No... not at all," I stammered.
As soon as I'd finished my sentence, Nina got down from where she was sitting and proceeded to pull her towel away from her body. She then re-tied the towel around her waist and sat down again.
I almost had a heart attack when I saw the beauty of her magnificent breasts. Needless to say, she was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen in my life, and her breasts were sexy as hell.
Almost as soon as I realized what had just happened, my cock began to grow faster and bigger than it had ever grown before. I was eager to touch Nina's breasts... even if it was the last thing I ever did.
"You know," piped Katy after a short silence, "I think you're right - it is getting quite hot in here." She continued, "I might just lower my towel to my waist as well, if that's alright by you two."
"Fine by me, Katy," said Nina, without delay.
"Is that alright by you, Alan?" asked Katy.
"What...?" I said a little dazed. "Oh yeah; no problem, go ahead," I replied.
I watched as one of the most beautiful teenagers I knew untied her towel from just above her breasts, then lowered it until it was around her waist. As with Nina, she finished the 'procedure' by re-tying the towel around her hips.
By now, I was getting really 'worked-up' by sitting within a very small distance of two topless beauties in a sauna. I decided that I should pinch myself in the side, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Luckily for me, I wasn't!
In order to attempt to confirm the fact that I wasn't dreaming, I chose to go and have a cold shower, as I was beginning to 'burn up' with the heat and the excitement.
As I closed the door of the sauna behind me, I breathed a heavy sigh. I stood under the cool spray of the shower and tried to get my heartbeat down to a reasonable level. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to want to slow down at all.
Within less than a minute, it was obvious my heart wasn't going to slow down for anyone that afternoon. With this in mind, I decided to go back to the heat of the sauna and the beauty of the two semi-nude young women.
Not long after my return to the sauna, Nina started talking again.
"You know, this heat is getting beyond a joke for me. I think I'll go and take a quick shower, if that's alright by you two," she said.
"That's okay by me, Nina," stated Katy.
"Not a problem with me either," I said.
Soon after Nina had gone out the door for a 'quick' shower, Katy started asking me questions.
"Well... what do you think of her, Alan?" asked Katy, anxiously.
I couldn't help but let out a slight laugh at the question I'd just been asked. Of course, I thought Nina was one of the most beautiful young women I'd ever seen in my life, but I didn't know what to say to Katy.
"She seems alright," I said.
"Do you think she's sexy?" asked Katy.
"No comment," I said, laughing.
"Does that mean you fancy her?" Katy continued to quiz.
"Aye, I'd say so," I retorted rather calmly, with a smile.
As Nina walked back into the sauna, she noticed that both Katy and I were smiling. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Katy, "We were just talking about you behind your back!"
"I hope you weren't saying anything bad," said Nina.
"Well..." I said slowly. |
13,795 | Barely Breathing | "Undress," he whispered.
The darkness was becoming less intrusive as my eyes adjusted. He sat by the window, the light from an autumn moon silhouetting him against the night. He wasn't as tall as I'd imagined, perhaps only 4 or 5 inches more than myself. I could see his long hair falling about his shoulders, and I nervously pushed my own back from my face. I wanted to make eye contact, some sort of reassuring connection that would calm my nerves, but it was much too dim. He remained silent, and I realized he was waiting for me to carry out his command. He wouldn't ask again.
Slowly at first, methodically, I undid each button, slipped the blouse from my shoulders, and began to fold it. How foolish is that, I thought, and let it fall to the floor instead. My jeans soon followed, and I remained in my panties and bra. My breasts overflowed the white cups and looked voluptuous, the nipples hard now and poking through the fabric. I ran my fingertips along the inside band of the panties and waited for him.
God, why did he just stand there? Why didn't he touch me? He knew I needed that. It's why we were both here. He needed to put his hands on my flesh as much as I craved it myself. These were no longer choices, they were compulsions.
Moments passed, and he watched me sliding my palms gently along my stomach and abdomen, letting myself enjoy the ache of being so very close to him and not even touching. I could hear him crossing the room now, and my skin tingled in anticipation, the fabric between my legs absorbing the moisture but not the scent of my arousal. I inhaled deeply. |
13,982 | Kat | "Come on," said Kathryn, "we're almost there." The young man she held upright as they stumbled slowly along the hallway muttered incoherently and groaned. Plodding steps brought them finally to the apartment door. Kathryn heaved Brian against the wall and tried the door knob. It turned easily, and Kathryn sighed. She pulled his arm across her shoulder and pulled him into the dark.
"It's a good thing you're so skinny," she said, leading him down the barely lit hall toward his bedroom. She pushed his door open with a shove of her hip and, with a final effort, pulled him into the darkness. Catching her foot, she tripped and fell onto the crumpled surface of his bed, pulling her drunken charge on top of her. Brian mumbled, groping at Kathryn's thigh.
"Not tonight, big boy," she said, shoving him over and bouncing out of bed. She leaned against the door frame. "If you'd stayed sober, we might have..." Brian shifted to hold onto his pillow and moaned. "You're right," said Kathryn, smiling. "Not even then."
She closed his door and stepped into the bathroom, flicking on the light. The harsh white radiance made her blink as she sat down to pee. Kathryn shook her head, relaxed by the release. "I should have known he was getting romantic about me again," she said. "I should have put an end to it before he started drinking." Kathryn stood and, looking in the mirror, teased her hair. "One o'clock," she said. "Too late to go back out, really." She shoved her brush back into her purse and flicked off the light.
Casting a glance back at Brian's door, she let herself play with a naughty thought. "He wouldn't even know," she mused, but shrugged her shoulders and headed back toward the yellow beacon of the still open front door. Taking hold of the knob, she stepped into the hallway, but a glance back into the apartment caught her attention. Someone slept on the sofa. Curiosity mixed with boredom, and she stepped back inside. A young man lay stretched out, his dark curls propped up on the near arm, his feet pressed hard against the far.
Kathryn stepped over to take a better look. Although his face hid in the shadows, she felt a strong attraction to his slumbering features. She paused a while to stare, admiring his handsome visage at her leisure.
"What a dish," she said gaily to herself. Thinking of Brian passed out in the other room, she leaned close to the man's face, smelling his faint breath. "And not even drunk," she said. Kathryn kissed his lips, lightly. A smile glimmered across his face. "Mmm," she said with a shiver.
Kathryn stood back a moment, pondering, feasting her senses on the strong youth. Her nerves trembled as her imagination rollicked over the lean limbs and firm jaw. She reached for the light just behind his head and carefully unscrewed the bulb, turning it slowly until it fell loose into her hand. She put the glass piece down on the end table, where it rolled silently from side to side. Kathryn went back over to the front door and put her purse down on the floor.
"I've just got to," she said, and lifting up her suede skirt, she took hold of her black lace panties and pushed them down her thighs, past her feet, and dropped them into the open top of her purse. She slowly closed the apartment door, bathing the room in darkness.
After taking six careful steps forward, Kathryn felt for the floor as she went down on her knees. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the blackness until the dim outline of the sofa finally took shape before her. She crawled to the center of the sofa and carefully brought her hands to the cushion. Gently searching, she found the thick curved surface of his legs and, with gentle, easy strokes, she located the bulge she'd hoped to find.
Softly running her fingers up and down the undefined lump of flesh, Kathryn evoked a shifting response that thickened the mass. She teased the place cautiously. A rigidness evolved as she followed the natural line, until a hard rod had developed. "Mmm," she purred, and finding a cord, she gently pulled. The sweatpants fell loose. Kathryn slowly uncovered the stiff cock. Pale light from the window reflected off the dark flesh. Leaning the pole upward with her warm fingers, Kathryn took the head, slightly salty, into her waiting mouth.
The young man moaned and stiffened, pushing his prick deeper into her wetness. "Oh, Angie," he muttered, putting a hand on her shoulder. Kathryn smiled broadly and tickled his dick with her tongue.
"Hey," he said, shaking his head. "Who are you?"
"Meow," Kathryn said, licking the tip of his cock.
"Pretty kitty," he said laughing, running his hand through her hair, ashen in the pale light.
Kathryn sucked his prick with a hungry rhythm, suddenly realizing that the faint shadows of this young man reminded her of another time, another night. He had the same dark curls, and she had kissed him in the black of night.
"Come on," she had said to the youth, taking his hand and dashing them both through the hedge and away from their friends. He followed tittering with glee as they ran down the hill and into a nearby field. The others kept on walking the other direction, oblivious to their escape. "Over here," she had said and flopped them both down in the tall grass.
The clouds were thick that night, and she could hardly see him as he leaned over to kiss her, to drink those sweet innocent lips with the first bursts of passion that had been welling in her soul. Kathryn had wanted him, felt his hand on the tense swell of her breast, felt the press of his thigh over hers.
A flash of lightning revealed the hunger in his eyes. The boom of thunder in the distance and the voice of their worried friends drove the youth from her clinging embrace. They had run back toward the car as the rain began to fall.
Kathryn smiled nostalgic as she sucked another young cock, anxious to drink up the young man's lusty flow. A rogue hand lifted her skirt, kneading the uplifted flesh of her ass, and she leapt with a sudden shock as a finger grazed her wet lips.
"Hurry," she said, turning around to let his fingers tease her swollen pussy. "Please fuck me." He slipped from the sofa, behind her, and taking hold of her waist pushed himself into the fiery storm of her cunt. Kathryn moaned, the heat of his rhythmic prodding welling higher with each fierce stroke.
A flash of lightning illuminated the room as he drove himself deep, as she felt his love coming. He yelled at the sight of her pale ass below, and she shuddered from within as thunder announced the breaking storm.
The young man fell away, sitting back on the dark sofa. Kathryn leaned forward to kiss the young man.
"God, that was beautiful," she said. He reached up to turn on the light. Kathryn stood. Rain began to patter on the window panes.
"Wait," he said, turning the switch in a rapid series of clicks. Kathryn opened the door, pulled down her skirt, picked up her purse, and blowing him a kiss, vanished into another stormy night. |
14,669 | Daydreaming | "You know what I wish?" she exclaimed suddenly.
"What?"
"I wish someone would really take control of me, of my life, of everything. That's really impractical, I know. And I probably wouldn't be able to handle it for any length of time, but the idea intrigues me."
She leaned out of the window and caught a raindrop in her palm. For a moment, the light of the outside conflicted with the darkness of the room, and her silhouette echoed on the walls around her. Her companion was silent.
"I could imagine," she continued, "He would be completely dominant. No apparent give or take. He would be flexible, but it would not show. When he was around, I would exist only to do his bidding."
"What would you do?"
"Whatever he wanted, I guess. I can imagine him walking into a room and ordering me down on my knees. I would go down quickly, with my hands behind my back, and my eyes lowered. If it was not quick enough, he would threaten punishment."
"What sorts of punishments?"
"Oh, spanking, nipple clips, teasing..." she paused, stroking her nipples with her fingers. Pinching them harder and harder. A soft moan escaped her lips. She continued, "He would tie me up. I've always wanted to be tied up standing, spread-eagle, while he did whatever he wished with my body."
"What would he do?"
She barely heard the question from the trance-like state she had put herself in. The fingers of one hand still pinching and teasing her nipples, while the other hand danced lightly over her clitoris. And then harder.
"What would he do?" The question repeated.
"What? Oh...he would tease me with toys, or with himself, withdrawing when I wanted it the most. He would have me begging. Sometimes he would blindfold me, or even gag me so that I was totally helpless in his grasp. In some of my fantasies, he would blindfold me and then bring in someone else, man or woman, to help him tease me. And in return, I would try to fulfill him, or them, as the case may be."
She stopped talking, concentrating on herself. Her moans got louder and louder as she brought herself over the edge. It was a satisfactory orgasm, but not complete. Somehow, in the light of her fantasies, it paled in comparison.
-Suki |
14,738 | She's A Teaser 3 | "Not much. Nothing really, the dress hasn't lifted enough to let me see anything." It was a lie, but not by much. I could just barely see a few wisps of pubic hair and the very edge of her cunt lips. But it was honest enough to keep the conversation going.
"So how about now?" She leaned forward and bent into a sideways "L", with the top half of her body parallel to the floor. If I were on the other side, I'd have been looking right down her blouse. From this side, the view was at least as interesting.
"Oh yes, I can start to see it now. Yes, yes, it's coming into view. It's really a pretty little pussy." I was starting to get comfortable. "I can almost see the lips now." Another lie. I had a perfect view of her cunt lips. I saw that her entire region was a bit puffy. Perhaps she was having the same sort of blood flow reaction that I was. I hoped so.
"So if I were to bend over to pick up a dime off the floor, like this..." She bent over fully. "You'd be able to see everything. And of course at a business dinner, that wouldn't be a good thing, probably."
She didn't move, staying bent over for my viewing pleasure. "This is really being helpful. Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it."
"Oh, that's alright. What are neighbors for if not to help out?" I gallantly replied. She was still bent at the waist. I drank it in.
As she slowly straightened up, I said "I have an idea that might help. Turn around." She stood up and faced me. I reached out with both hands and pinched the dress at her waist and gave a little tug down. "If the dress were just a little longer, maybe you wouldn't have this problem." I knew it was a joke, and so did she, but she played along.
"Well, maybe. But now I'm worried about something else. If the bottom comes down, the top comes down a little bit too. Here, look. If I were to accidentally bring my arms forward like this and hug myself..."
She wrapped her arms under her breasts and squeezed up as she said it, and the effect was electric. Her breasts rose up like half moons out of the bodice of the dress. I could even see just the top part of the circles of her nipples, which were beginning to grow and darken. "See, that wouldn't be good." She paused for a moment, then continued. "Oh, I'm such a terrible tease."
"Well, that's true. I mean about what happens if you hug your sides. And yes, you are a terrible tease, but there are worse things, I suppose. Anyway, if you were just careful and didn't squeeze yourself like that, maybe you wouldn't have to worry so much about the bottom of the dress."
"OK, tell me now if this is better." With that, she turned around and began to lean over again. The effect was the same. But this time her legs were apart by a few inches. As she reached 90 degrees, I had a perfect view of her cunt.
"Oh, I'm afraid you're right," I said. "I can still see your pussy, right here, staring me in the face. So if you were to bend over and pick up that dime..." As I said it, she involuntarily did it, giving me a 100% view. "Yep, I was right. I sure can see everything now. Absolutely everything. And I should say it's really a great looking snatch." What a cunt! Whew.
Suddenly she straightened up and turned to face me. "OK, let's see those shorts. It's been a few minutes. Let's see how you look now without the boner."
"Are you crazy?" I exclaimed. "After the last couple of minutes, you think my dick got smaller? What have you been smoking?"
"Hey, you promised," she protested. "Stand up." I did. If there had been a tent in the front of the boxer shorts before, now it was like the whole Ringling Brothers circus had moved in.
"Whoops," she giggled. "Guess it didn't work. Goodness, and what a boner. You're really going to destroy my husband's shorts if you're not careful."
"Sorry," I replied.
"So just take it out, and relieve the pressure," she suggested.
"Just take it out?" I asked.
"Sure. At least we won't have to worry about crushing your friend in there," she replied.
"Perhaps you'd like to help?" I fairly implored.
"Now now, you know the rules. Anyway, I think you're just trying to get something started that shouldn't," she said. ME! HAH! "You're just trying to get me to grab ole' wet willy there, and goodness knows where that could lead. Nope. You do it."
"OK. OK." And I stood up, and with a few bumps and grinds of my hips, managed to arrange my dick so it was ready to poke out of the flap in the front. I was in a funny crouched position, perfectly vertical except for my pelvis, which I was trying to keep back, which would keep my rigid rod back as well.
She said, "Come on, come on, stop stalling. There's no reason to be embarrassed. You think I've never seen a guy's dick before? For heaven's sake, I'm not even interested in seeing your dick. I just want to see if the pants will look good without all that strain behind them." YEAH. SURE. I thought.
I poked the head of my dick out through the flap. Her eyes were drawn to it like metal to a magnet. As I straightened up out of my crouch, my dick continued to march forward, an inch at a time.
"Oh yes, I see. That's much better," she said. "Look how nice and smooth the pants fit you. Almost like a glove."
"Well, if it were a glove, there'd be another finger in the front to keep me warm." We both laughed. "Just a little joke," I said.
"Anything but little," she retorted. She bent down in front of me, as if to inspect the pants. Her hands went up to the cloth to smooth it. She grabbed at the front panel and gave a little tug both down and back, and my balls popped out through the flap. "Perfect," she said. "Now look at how smooth the pants lay." She gently stroked the cloth, somehow managing to stroke the front of the shorts without ever actually touching me. As she stroked the pants, she smoothed the material across my pubic hair, then down between my legs and under my balls.
"And look how cute the set is together," she said. With that, she brought her panties up in front of me, holding them by their sides. As she held them out in front of her, and moved them toward the matching shorts, the panties lightly brushed against my throbbing cock. She held the panties up against my shorts, as though she were contemplating their color coordination or something. I thought I would blow my load at that moment, but managed to restrain myself. She continued to move the panties up and down, then back and forth lightly against my dick. The torture was exquisite.
"Ah god, that feels great," I exclaimed. At that, she seemed to snap back to attention.
"Oops," she said. "Almost got carried away. This teasing stuff is hard."
"That's not all," I interrupted.
"You know what I mean, difficult. But there's a line and that's that."
"Don't you ever get carried away," I said, perhaps with more than a cupful of frustration in my voice.
"Don't be silly," she replied. "I'm always in control. Here, look."
She pushed me back and I stumbled against my high-backed chair. As I sat down, she moved toward me. With one leg on the outside of each of mine, she sat down on my lap, straddling me. She was just inches in front of me, her passionate pussy resting barely in front of my throbbing dick. She grabbed the two upright posts of the chair back for support.
"See?" she said, not totally convincingly. "There's nothing going on here that shouldn't be. I can stop anytime I want. It's no big deal."
"Believe me it's big, and getting bigger," I said.
"Oh sure," she replied. "If it gets any bigger, it'll be poking me in the forehead."
"It's pretty close now," I told her. |
14,167 | In Your Own Sweet Way | "You can do it."
"No, I can't."
Technically, I could; but I really couldn't. I just couldn't say why.
So I knew I was going to, eventually.
"The show must go on," he said, winking.
"That's Broadway. This is movies -- dirty movies."
"Close enough. If King Cock over there..." my producer glanced to where the star, sitting naked, was staring woefully at his limp equipment, "...hadn't crapped out on us, we'd be done by now."
Our cameraperson giggled, "There's really nobody else. C'mon big guy -- *drop 'em*."
Still, I hesitated.
"Listen, Mr. Director, I've got a pile of money in this turkey. We've got lots of them humping -- now we need an insert and a cumshot. Up her ass, squirt her buns, and we're outta here. We'll use his stuff, and cut between your dick and his face. You two have the same build, pretty much -- it'll work."
It was years since I'd been on that side of the lens. And this was *very* different. But explaining why would be worse than actually doing it.
"Oooo... I'm gonna *love* gettin' screwed by you," cooed our starlet, sprawled languid, sweaty and naked across the bed. "You're *famous!*" She rolled onto her tummy and hoisted her bottom high, watching me over her shoulder. Her scent filled the air -- freshly fucked and eager for more. "C'mon baby. Come to mama."
"You're not helping any."
"Is this?" She reached up and fingered her pussy while rolling her hips in slow circles. It wasn't -- and it was. It was complicated. The growing bulge in my jeans was simple, however. Reluctantly, I peeled.
"Knew you would, in the end. Her end." The giggling had stopped, but she smirked behind her viewfinder. "Makeup!" she shouted, now directing. "Need some *lube* here!"
"*I'll* handle that," I said, taking the tube and brushing a hand filled with gel away from my rising erection. Kneeling behind, I looked down into her bright, innocent face. Just days past her eighteenth birthday, this was her very first film. I hadn't wanted to cast her -- because of her inexperience, I said; I'd been overruled because of her freshness and youth.
"You said you've never done anal before."
"Don't worry, buster. *You* get it up, *I'll* get it in." Now *she* was giggling.
"Rolling! *Action!*"
I pushed down, she pushed up, and I slipped very slowly inside. Her eyes and her mouth opened wide.
"*OooooaaaAAAHHH...*"
"Fantastic!" from behind the camera.
"Get her face!"
"Got it -- and her hand." Her knuckles were white, grabbing the sheets. We screwed hard.
"Not so fast -- you look like you're coming!"
"You *were?!?*"
"*You did?!?*"
"*Inside!?!*"
"Tisk tisk -- *very* unprofessional..."
Nobody saw her other hand, the one away from the camera, fingernails digging into my thigh, holding me deep inside.
We walked out together. She leaned close, so nobody could overhear.
"I know that was hard. But I just *loved* it. Really." Then she added, like she does every year, "Gee, Daddy -- that was my best birthday present *ever!*" |
14,177 | Story - Revised La Kajira | "Have I ever whipped you?" Master put his hand on my arm firmly. He was strong and powerful. He was a true warrior.
"No, Master," I said, shivering inside.
"Maybe I should sometime." He looked directly into my eyes. I felt weak near him. I could scarcely breathe.
"Yes, Master." I was under his control. He owned me. His wishes were my commands. I was his slave. He was my Master.
Master touched my bare skin, sending a need through me. I wanted him as I could never want another.
"Come, slave," he said roughly.
"Yes, Master." I followed behind at his feet.
I read the story on a Domination/submission website that my boyfriend, Larry, had sent me. He loved the idea of being my Master and me, his slave. I had not been thrilled about it until I went to that site. I couldn't stop reading it. The girl in the story was truly the Master's property. She was his slave.
I put the book down, breathing heavily. I squirmed in bed. My hand squeezed the heat between my legs. I wanted Larry. I wanted to know what it was like to be his like that. To do as asked of me. I wanted to be completely pleasing to him at all times. I wanted to be owned. I wanted him to tell me what to do for him. I yearned for him to fuck me with the power of a warrior.
Larry was much the same as the warrior in the story. He was 50 and experienced not only in sex, but in life. He was a cowboy. He was rough if he had to be. He had long hair and bright blue eyes that could see through and hold mine. A black cowboy hat tilted in front helped give off the aura of toughness. I had to look up over a foot to see his face. He had the lines of a man with many stories to tell. I felt that he was as powerful as the warrior and just as dominating.
I picked up the phone just then and dialed Larry. "I want you," I said when he answered the phone. "I want to be your slave girl, Master. Take me."
"I will be right there," he said, and hung up.
I got in the shower thinking of what would happen when he arrived. I ran my hands seductively down my body, over the soft curves of my flesh, my still firm, aching breasts. I took my fingertips and ran them over my hips, then to the auburn hair between my legs. My finger felt my clit, pushed inside my wanting hole and back out again. I put my finger in my mouth and sucked. Master would love a taste of my lubricant. I smiled.
Larry knocked at the door a few minutes after I was out of the shower. I opened the door smiling. He walked in without being asked.
"Perfect," he said. He took hold of my shoulders. His eyes moved over my naked body.
"Kneel, kajira!" Master ordered. Kajira was another name for slave.
Without hesitation, I gracefully dropped to my knees at his feet. I lowered my lips and kissed his feet.
I sat back on my heels, spreading my thighs so wide he could see the pink folds of my slave heat. I sat so straight my shoulders were back and breasts up high. My hands rested on my thighs, palms up. I could smell the sweet, soft scent of my pussy juices beginning to flow.
Larry held a golden metal collar with his initials carved into it up by my neck. "What will you offer me in return for my collar?"
"This girl offers to serve Master's every whim, to be pleasing to him at all times." Slaves could not use the word "I." For they were no longer their own person. They were owned.
"Good, my slave. What will be your duty to me?" He asked.
"Absolute obedience, Master."
"Rise," he commanded.
I obeyed, moving quickly, subtly to my bare feet before him. I was trembling inside, yearning for him to take me. He did not smile. He controlled.
I held my head high, chin up. He clasped the collar to my throat. There was a lock for which to release it. Only Master held the key.
"I am your Master. You will obey only me."
"Yes, Master."
"Come, slave," again, he commanded of me, and I followed.
I followed him to my bedroom. Furs draped my bed. Handcuffs were attached to each corner.
Master took me firmly into his arms, holding me securely against his chest. He kissed me hard. His knee went between my legs. I rubbed my already wet cunt against his knee. I could think of only my Master.
He picked me up like a feather in his hand and laid me on the bed. The feel of the fur against my bare skin drove me sexually wild. I squirmed in it before him. He roughly handcuffed my arms and feet to the bed. I stared at him.
"You like that, don't you, my little one?" He asked, standing by the bed slowly peeling off his clothing.
"Yes, Master. It is wonderfully seductive."
He smiled with an evil glow in his eyes. He turned and left the room. I laid on the furs provocatively chained up, needing to be pleased. How could my Master leave me there craving him so incredibly?
I squirmed in the fur. My mind reeled. My pussy ached. Nearly fifteen minutes passed before he returned to me. I needed to be fucked horribly by then. He stood by the side of the bed glaring at me. I saw in him an animal that I had never seen before. He hungered for me. He wanted to eat me alive. I could see it in his eyes. I could feel his power over me.
He slapped the auburn mound so hard it stung. I gasped. Then he let the tip of his dick run so softly through the hairs, I quivered.
Master suddenly glued his face to my deep slit. The pink lips opened to let him bite on the aching bulb. I flinched with pain at first, but just as sudden did I want him to do it again.
"Bite on me, Master. Please."
He bit even harder this time. His fingers buried themselves into the hole that swallowed them up. I could hear the suction of my flesh holding them inside of me. I felt as if I were someone else. His strength had captured me. I would do anything now. I humped on his fingers madly, feeling at least two of them inside. I wanted to be filled. I wanted to feel the pressure of having his entire hand in me.
"Force your hand in me, Master. Fill me up. Oh, hurt me with pleasure. Please," I yelled.
I needed it. I needed the pain and pleasure of what he was giving me. It was so intense. I thought at first that his hand would rip me open. He played with my clit with his teeth at the same time. He bit it, then licked from side to side as hard as he could. The walls of my cunt grew so lubricated that his hand fit after just a few minutes.
"More! Yes, Master." I could not think. I could only feel the intense force that took me over. The furs beneath me made my body shake. I could hardly take it. I rasped for breath. His entire hand delved deep along the walls of my flesh. He found my glorious spot that he indulged harsh pleasure upon. He moved at it with a finger quick and fierce.
Master looked up at my face. I had tears in my eyes, begging to be released. I had to cum. He kept his fist turning between my thighs. Without warning, he put his small finger into my ass.
"Oh, Master," I moaned. My body glistened in perspiration. The small curves of my hips moved in quick thrusts, meeting his hand. My breasts bounced subtly.
Master reached up to my breast. He bit down on my nipple. It hardened instantly.
"Do you want me, slave? Do you want me to let this beautiful little slut of mine have the orgasm her body desires?"
I looked into the eyes of this hard, strong man that possessed me. I didn't care what he did to me. I didn't care if it hurt my throbbing pussy.
"Yes, Master, release me," I cried. Tears streamed openly down my cheeks.
He removed his hand from me. Master gripped his cock in his hand, teasing me. I could see the head fully swelled. He crawled up, straddling my chest. "Do you want this cock?" He asked, torturing me.
"Yes, Master. Please."
"You will satisfy me with your mouth, and if you do a good job, I will allow you to cum."
"Yes, Master. Yes."
He put his cock to my mouth, rubbing it over my lips. My tongue circled the head of it. I heard his moans. I wished to be released from my bonds so I could touch him, tickle his balls and hips."Master, please let me touch you," I begged.
"Like this?" He let his fingertips run over his balls, his hips, his inner thighs. I moaned watching him. He forced his cock into my mouth deeply. In and out it went while my tongue circled it. He continued touching his thin body while I stared.
Abruptly, Master pulled his shaft from my mouth, tracing a line down between my breasts, over my stomach to my sweet opening. He put it to my clit. As hard as he could, he rubbed it over. My hips moved from side to side.
"Fuck me, Master. This slave begs for you to force your way into my tunnel."
With one quick movement, the rod of power was down in me till I felt his balls hit my ass. I yelled as he hit hard against the back of me.
"Suck it deep," he groaned.
He slammed into me, moving me over the soft fur. I felt the heat traveling through my existence. An electricity began at my toes and worked its way up into my head as an orgasm devoured me. I blanked out as the most intense climax escaped my loins. My cunt dripped with cum. I screamed, barely breathing. His body tensed up as his own sperm shot through my body. Master bit my nipple out of control.
He moved, still hard inside of me, for a long moment. His hips moved with mine. He reached up at the cuffs and let me go. I wrapped my arms around him tightly.
"You are mine as I see fit. Do not forget or you will be punished," he whispered in my ear.
"La Kajira, Master," I whispered back, meaning I was his female slave girl.
I knew this only to be the beginning of my slave adventures. In the coming weeks, I was to learn of many new things that I never thought I could abide by, but they would turn out to be very exciting. |
14,797 | The Taking Of Troi | "Computer, estimate time to arrival at Rigas 7?"
"Estimated time to Rigas 7 is 12 hours, 13 minutes, 37 seconds at current speed and heading."
Wonderful, sighed Deanna Troi, twelve more hours of boredom alone in a scuttlecraft, and then I begin the ultimate in boredom, a Starfleet counselors' professional development conference. She grimaced and spoke again, "Computer, list available..." Suddenly Troi stopped speaking; she felt something, a telepathic tingling of growing intensity. Something was wrong, she thought.
"Computer, scan sector. Is there anything there?"
"Scanning. Negative signs... correction.. sensors indicate a D-7 class battlecruiser uncloaking 1200 kilometers off port. Do you wish to open hailing frequency?"
But Troi was no longer listening, for by now the tingling had become overwhelming. It was like a malevolent presence running amok inside her head. Never had she felt anything with the intensity of this. Instinctively gripping her head with both her hands, she struggled to make sense of it as the lights in the scuttlecraft blinked and disappeared, the result of a carefully aimed shot with a ship's phaser set on low power. With the scuttle's shields down, it was only a millisecond before the transporter beam locked on the struggling counselor.
As she materialized on the attacking ship, Troi was struck an almost physical blow as the intensity of the psychic sensation which had affected her on the scuttle increased a hundred times. She could not think. The sensations flooding into her mind simply overwhelmed her. The sensations were, she realized, directed at her specifically; it was composed partly of intense lust - the kind of lust she had so frequently experienced in the brief unguarded thoughts of a crewmember fantasizing about her. But here the sensation was multiplied a thousand times over and mixed with raw hatred to become a monster tearing at her mind. With great difficulty, she forced herself to discipline her mind's portal, to attempt to shut out the horrible feelings which were flooding into her open mind. While she could not close her mind to this horror, she could and did slow down the torrent of horrible feelings- feelings of pain and lust- flooding her mind. Slowly, Troi regained enough control to become aware of her surroundings. What she saw was as terrifying as the sensations filling her mind. She saw that she was in a strange ship though the surroundings were familiar enough for her to recognize them as the mess deck of a Klingon warship. The smell was unmistakable. All around her were Klingons clad in their familiar black syntholeather, glaring at her with an intensity which was as frightening as the sensations of desire and hatred she sensed emanating from these men. There were dozens of them surrounding her silently, motionless except for the uniform hand movements as each man stroked his exposed cock. She was overwhelmed by the crude maleness of their urges and knew instinctively what they wanted of her.
"NO", She screamed, "YOU CANNOT DO THIS!"
Troi's natural haughtiness and the impetuous tone of her command served only to enflame the collected male Klingons. Aroused by her resistance, they were in no mood to listen to her pleas. They advanced upon the defiant woman. Two of them grabbed her arms and twisted them painfully behind her back to force her to hold her still as another used his long knife to cut her Starfleet tunic. Troi's brown eyes widened in fear as the tip of the oddly shaped blade invaded the counselor's low cleavage to rest in the deep valley between her breasts. The pink, very feminine garment opened easily at a touch of the long, sharp blade as the Klingon ran the knife down Troi's torso. Since she wore no bra, two large breasts jumped into view, the red nipples erect from her fear. Her heavy cone-shaped breasts swayed as she struggled against the men, further enflaming them. The Klingon kept cutting the pink fabric, his blade traveling just above her flat, trembling stomach to her crotch. With a double slash to cut first her pants and then her panties, her dark bush was revealed to the watching Klingon warriors. Thick cunt hair covered her vagina, hiding it - for the moment- from the hungry eyes of the Klingons. In their haste they had left the shreds of the tunic around her shoulders and back; they, and her shoes, were the only covering they left the cowering woman as they stripped her of her pride and self-assurance along with her clothing. Each time Deanna felt the cold of the knife, a spasm of fear cut through her. She shivered, moaning and flinching as the cold steel cut away her uniform to expose her slender, athletic body.
One Klingon grabbed her left leg in his powerful hands and pulled it open to reveal her hair-covered cunt, her prominent clitoris and the thick, reddish outer lips of her cunt clearly visible through the dark forest of her cunt hair. The reality of her powerlessness as well as the terrifying way they had stripped her filled the once proud Deanna with fear as well as shame. She felt so very helpless as she struggled against the Klingons' strong hands. Never had she felt so powerless. It was a new sensation for the haughty Starfleet officer. Accustomed to holding the upper hand by virtue of her telepathic powers, her new helplessness filled her with terror as she realized finally how much at the Klingons' mercy she was. Unfortunately, she knew that there was no mercy to be expected from Klingons. Only murmurs of "'IH" from the lips of the watching men as they pawed her now nude body.
"NO!..I WILL NOT...NO..I FORBID IT...YOU CANNOT........LEAVE ME ALONE YOU YOU ..ARE ..Ha"Dlbah!..ANIMALS!...Ha"Dlbah!.YOU..ARE .NUCH!..NO, LEAVE ME ALONE!"
"BLJATH" E" YLMEV BE' !", ordered the largest of the men.
At this order, another man picked up her shredded panties and stuffed them into her screaming mouth; then, as another man held her head still by gripping her long, dark hair in his fists, he secured the shredded panties in her mouth by using a strip of her destroyed uniform tied around her frantically shaking head. In a second the furious but now panic-stricken Troi had her arms also secured together behind her back with unbreakable plastic ties at her wrists and at her elbows. Then the males stood back to admire their handiwork. Deanna was left standing at the center of a circle of huge Klingon males with her hands tied and gagged with her own panties, spreading a faint taste of her own sex through her mouth. She was literally stamping her feet- her limbs left unbound- in fear and frustration. Her long dark hair flew around her face as she turned first one way then another in desperate search for a nonexistent escape. Her breasts swayed with each turn, their weight keeping them in constant motion; her large, brown eyes pleaded silently with the Klingons surrounding her. Then the apparent leader, the man who had ordered her gagged, picked her up in his muscular arms. He held her there with her feet above the deck as he stared into her pleading eyes where a mixture of fear and anger were clearly visible. He laughed in her face, and then casually tossed her onto one of the mess tables. Stunned, Deanna lay sprawled on the cold metal, her vagina open and vulnerable.little-neck.ny.us>
Submission criteria: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/notes/assm.html>
Archive site: <URL:http://www.netusa. |
14,811 | *BARBARA LOVES ANAL* | "Scream all you want, Barbara," Bob whispered into her ear as he attempted to mount her from behind, both on hands and knees in the doggie style position. Bob had applied a tiny drop of KY on the outside of her rectum, just enough lube to work the head of his shaft just inside the anal ring. Not really enough to allay her fear of the pain that was coming. But he found the anal orgasm with the most pain gave the deepest, longest, strongest, and most satisfying climax. Therefore, he skimped on the lube. Most people would find more comfort with half a tube of KY, but Bob was going for quality, not comfort. Ultimately, she would find her comfort when she got her climax, and that is what he was going to assure - a totally perfect and complete rectal orgasm that wrenched her entire body. With that, he thrust forward viciously, burying his huge erection in the tight, rubbery confines of the little 5' brunette's bottom.
"Oh God," Barbara wailed as humiliation began to merge with the pain. He was moved by her tears. Indeed, seeing her suffering made him love her more, as he could comfort and assuage her more. A loving feeling was deep in his heart, an aching need to give her total satisfaction, even though in the short run, it would be a bit painful. A feeling of total helplessness washed over Barbara like a tidal wave as Bob sunk his rod to the hilt, his big hairy balls slapping luridly against her. The black butt plug stuck out of his ass a little and gave him additional pleasure.
"UUUUNNNNGGGGGHHHHH!!!! ….PLEASE, you have to stop. I can't do anal. I thought I could, but I can't. If you take it out, we can do anything else you want. ANYTHING!"
But Bob already had what he wanted most in the world: His thick cock forcing its way into a tight, virgin, unwilling ass. And so he began to screw part way in and out of the narrow anal passage, bringing further cries of distress to her trembling lips. He bumped against her over and over, loosening her up. Then he began to brutally lunge into her soft buns, sheathing his throbbing bone again and again, buried to the hilt in her rectum. Her muscles collapsed, and Amber went limp. Much to her delight, she found the pain easing the more she relaxed and collapsed. Soon she was up on all fours, pushing back to meet the ramrod. Not long after, she was screaming "harder Bob!!!, you're all the way in, fuck me more. Hurt me more." All of a sudden, she felt the beginning of an orgasm deep within her bowels, and when it hit, her clitoris was spasming as much as her rectal walls and uterus. She felt his jism burn her insides. And then they both collapsed in a heap, happy. He took a towel and lovingly wiped her bottom off, gave her a sip of his drink, for she was very thirsty. And for the first time, Barbara was totally and completely satisfied. |
14,870 | Seductions: 1 | "In Espana, mille tre . . ."
I'm always keen to look for new talent, as everyone knows. So, I've been contemplating the washer. No, not an appliance! Unless you consider working-class girls to be appliances, that is. She's "of a type," but not the same type as her predecessor, Jacqueline the fake Bardot, whom I picked up right here at the same hair salon. This one, my first guess says, is Italian. Rationale: the big black eyebrows, the flashing smile. But, no, as she chatters away, I revise my thinking. I get the impression she's Greek. Demure and living with her parents. Well, this proves to be correct in only the latter respect. She's extremely cute, as indeed are so many of the girls who work here. She's already fully caught up in the "party-party-party" atmosphere that defines this place.
I watch her for a while. She has a huge smile, and everything about her is perky, pretty. Big eyes, beautiful skin. Maria, I hear one of the others call her. When she concentrates on a task, she bites her lip, looks worried. Very attractive, that. She's no more than 5' tall, 100-lb., max. No more than 20 years old. That's a tasty age! Nice lips, dark lipstick, lots of eye makeup.
She's sipping on a soda now. Whenever I see pouty lips like that wrapped around a straw, I think, "I wonder if she plays it like a clarinet, or trumpet?"
That Saturday, I get very lucky. She's assigned to shampoo me. Chatting away, she says to me: "Oh wow, I'm exhausted. What a night!"
It turns out, she'd spent the whole night going from one club to another, getting home at about 5 a.m.
All I think is, "if I were her father, etc." Then I catch myself remembering that Frank Zappa song and thinking, yes, what would I do? "Cover my daughter in chocolate syrup and strap her on again . . ." I smile. What's the rest of it: "She's my teenage baby, she turns me on, I'd like to make her do a nasty on the White House lawn . . ." Ah, they don't write them like that anymore.
She's still talking. I may have missed a few beats about where she went, how much more she drank. But anyway, she sneaks in about 5 a.m. and goes to bed. Then, with only a couple of hours of sleep, she wakes at 7:20 a.m. to realize she needs to be at work at eight, and real prompt about it. This place is a boot camp, and they get mad if you're late, I know that from the experiences of the fake Bardot. She has ten minutes to make the bus. She rushes out, just makes it.
You know how my brain works. Ah! Unwashed, I think immediately. Sniff, sniff. And maybe I can detect it. A little bit sweaty, a tiny bit snatchy. Yum.
It's 3 p.m. now, they close at 4.
My hairdresser is, as usual, running late, so Marie gives me another splodge of conditioner, and I get more chat. She's not the intellectual type, but she is quite bright.
I decide to make a play. "So. Any big plans for tonight?"
"Oh. No, I don't think so. Something quiet!"
"Oh, you don't have a date?"
"Well, I was going to go shopping, then my brother was going to pick me up at 6:30 p.m. But afterwards, no. Uh, are you thinking. . .?"
"Yes, if you're interested, we could, I don't know . . . something."
She makes a quick judgment. I'm much older. But I have it.
"I, uh yes. I might. I mean . . ."
"So, tell you what. Meet me next door at Starbucks when you're done. I'm going there anyway."
I must have done something right. Is it me, or the highly addictive coffee? She's there, by about 4:15 p.m.
I buy her a frappuccino, then make my pitch about the impending rendezvous avec le frere: namely that she should put him off.
"Hey, you must be worn out. Look, here's an idea. Stop by my place, it's just down the road. I'll make you tea, you can get a shower if you like, take a nap. You need it, huh? Then, whatever. A movie, dinner. Like I said, whatever. I don't mind. Your call."
She's flustered. "Yes, but . . I need to do something about my clothes! I look like a bag lady . . ."
Right, a Gucci bag lady. She is, I assure you, impeccable.
"No, you look fine. Come on. Just take a shower, you'll be much better. Just what you need to feel okay."
I hand her my cell phone, and she makes the call.
And...?
Well, I gave her the cab fare home at 10:30 p.m. We never made it out, as you might have guessed. She fucks so greedily. I called for takeout. Chinese in, with pauses for us to suck on each other. I'd seen that she had a cocksucker's mouth, and I was right. She uses it like one, as though she has practiced. But when I tease her, she's rather timid. No, not much, she says. Her pussy: a great seafood dish, as fragrant as I'd thought.
Her panties, as fragrant and gooey as I'd imagined, are now on top of my monitor, providing inspiration, jogs to my memory, and adult aroma therapy. Tomorrow lunchtime, I'll drop by and pick her up. We'll go out to the upmarket mall. Victoria's Secret, Macy's, a movie. Treat her to some nice sexy clothes, a good intense movie. You can't buy girls like her, but they appreciate presents, because face it, she has picked a piss-poor way to make a living, almost minimum wage and tips. So, to be a sugar daddy is not such a bad ploy.
And then? I'll bring her back here for the evening. I want to work on her. I foresee her being much more submissive than the fake Bardot, judged by our first night. There's nothing much she says 'no' to, and she's quite aroused by my dirty talk. I think it'll be quite easy to get her into ass-fucking, and not much work to have her submit her cute little rump to a spanking. I detect a willingness to be dominated . . . and if that works, well, all sorts of fun can be had. |
14,877 | The Fading Universe | "Well, I think it's immoral," the fat boy said.
"We did it anyway."
"Yeah, Marv; but, I mean, think of all the innocent little children we killed. And we didn't even get her."
Marvin yawned.
The steel girder jutted awkwardly out over the deep blue pool. The two boys sat perched atop it, fishing.
"How could Perry have known the police chief's daughter would be playing hooky the day we blew up the elementary school?" Marvin asked defensively.
"You ought to be our boss instead of Perry."
Marvin shook his head. "No, Flaherty. Perry may have syphilis, but he's still the best strategist the tunnels have ever seen. Do you think I could have mapped out that escape route we took after we blew up the school?"
"People bomb buildings all the time."
"Yeah, but they don't sit across the street on lawn chairs and watch," Marvin protested. "They watch it on the evening news. Or read about it in the paper."
"I've got one," Flaherty announced, suddenly distracted from the discussion. The chubby youth shifted to his knees and reeled in the line. "Feels pretty big."
Suddenly the line snapped. Flaherty let out a yelp as he toppled forward. Marvin grabbed the back of his checked shirt and, straining, pulled the chubby boy upright.
"Damn. Fuck! What a cheap line." Flaherty glared at the water.
Marvin reeled in his own line and cast it out farther. He chewed absently on a wad of gum as he slowly drew the line back toward shore.
It was hard to tell Marvin's age. His face had been charred in a fire when he was 12. He appeared to have a receding hairline; thin patches of hair were all that had ever grown back through the portion of his scalp that crowned his forehead. Only the hairless, sculpted chest between the unzipped halves of his tattered mulatto vest hinted that he was a teen.
"Hey! She's gone!"
Marvin and Flaherty glanced over their shoulders at Perry; a skinny boy running in frantic circles amidst the banks of equipment that stood in silent clumps, their glowing frames stretching to the ceiling that arched over the lake.
"What I don't understand," Flaherty continued, "is how someone who dotes on little girls, like Perry, could bear to blow up an elementary school? I mean, there must have been dozens of pretty little things who attended that institution."
"I believe you're turning into a pedophile, Flaherty."
"No I'm not, Marv. But I am empathetic."
A girl with luxurious shoulder-length hair and sunglasses stepped down out of a battered delivery truck.
"I'm glad your little girlfriend ran away. You shouldn't be fucking 5-year-olds," the 15-year-old brunette snapped at Perry.
"She's not 5, she's 8," Perry, his own eyes hidden behind a pair of shades, retorted.
"If you ask me, she's run away for good," Marvin called out.
Perry spun on his heels and stomped off between the racks. His retreating figure carried with it an air of the ridiculous. He wore the threadbare remains of what had once been a splendid suit; and he had run outside without first pulling on his trousers. His bony legs were white and hairy, his black dress socks sagged beneath his ankles.
Marvin laughed to himself. The shadowed recesses of the metal cavern echoed as Perry took out his frustration on the stoic columns of machinery. Auxiliary lines cut in automatically, bypassing the damaged circuits. A few shafts flickered and died.
Countless generations had abused the corridors and their contents. Doubtless many more would. Perhaps they had a right to. After all, it was man himself who, ever increasing the number of his species, filled the universe with a latticework of metal tunnels; fenced in the stars and harnessed their power to feed the inhabitants of billions upon billions of tiny apartments all bursting with happy, productive people. Or so the story went. The one Marvin had read once in a book. Today nobody really knew anything about life before the War. During the dim centuries since that cataclysm the ancients' only legacy had become the metal catacombs; glowing with the feeble incandescence of emergency power.
"Ouch! I cut my foot," Perry whined. He hobbled out from behind a rack, his sock torn and dripping blood.
Elsa glanced at him contemptuously, tossed back her hair, and strode over to the beam that held Marvin and Flaherty above the deep pond.
"Let's get out of here," Elsa said to Marvin. "If Perry's little squeeze finds her way back to the city she'll lead the cops straight to this lake."
"Perry," Marvin called. "Let's get going."
"Can't," Perry said. "Harrigan and Frankie are still off somewhere frigging."
"Fags," Flaherty scoffed.
"We'd better find 'em, then," Marvin said. "I'd rather see those two die from AIDS than from the electric chair."
Ten minutes later Frankie and Harrigan were led stumbling out of a nook between the racks. Harrigan was clumsily divesting himself of the bondage gear which had restrained his six-foot figure while Frankie, still playing, nipped the man's ankles with a riding crop.
"You've got a semen stain on your pants," Elsa remarked to Harrigan.
"Is that out of fashion, dearie?" Harrigan asked Elsa. His voice was deceptively deep for a homosexual. But it matched his bald pate, puffy cheeks, and gap-toothed smile. Harrigan was always smiling, in a stupid sort of way, his eyes squinting behind his smeared, circular, gold-rimmed spectacles.
Marvin grinned at Harrigan. "You think you could loan that get-up to Elsa this evening?"
"No way," Elsa said.
"Can't lend it," Frankie piped up. "Harrigan's been powerfully naughty and I must punish him all night tonight." Frankie was quite forward for his size. A dwarf, he stood only three and a half feet tall, and the oversized red wool ski cap atop his head only emphasized his childlike aspect. The sleeves of his pullover sweater were rolled up to the elbow of the fabric, but Frankie's fingers barely managed to clear the cuff.
Frankie continued to cavort about Harrigan as the man seated himself behind the wheel of the van and started the engine, wrapping a cord around Harrigan's thick neck in a playful attempt to strangle him. Marvin sat nonchalantly in the seat beside Harrigan. He gazed through the cracked windshield at the chromium walls that snaked away into eternal twilight. Behind him Perry was quoting to Elsa from St. Jerome. Flaherty popped open a can of beer and gulped down its contents as he rummaged through a set of makeshift wooden cabinets for a snack.Perspiration streaked his brow and blurred his vision. The mutant's stinking breath filled his nostrils. Marvin gave a violent kick, and one of the mutants toppled backward with a gasp. Suddenly, a sharp pain blazed through Marvin's skull, and his world went pitch black.
Marvin felt a wetness between his legs. He wrenched himself upright as a vision of a bloody crotch shot through his mind. He looked down to find Elsa licking his testicles with her tongue. She glanced up at him.
"You nearly lost these. I figure I'd better appreciate them while I can," Elsa said.
Marvin's memory of the leering mutants, with their shrunken heads, rippling membranous gills, and massive forearms, faded upon a bare cinderblock prison cell.
Footsteps came echoing down the hall. Elsa hurriedly zipped up Marvin's trousers, whispering, "We're in the city slammer. The cops who were sent out after us found us just as the mutants were castrating Perry."
"Then he's okay?"
"No. He's lost his testicles."
Marvin gasped.
A police sergeant appeared outside the prison door.
"Well, I see you finally woke up," the sergeant said to Marvin. "I guess you could say the city cops saved your balls, boy. Saved 'em for the electric chair. Too bad about your leader, though. That's what you get when you double-cross the mutants."
The sergeant chuckled and was about to continue when a blast of mortar fire rumbled through the prison. For a moment, the sergeant stood stock still, then he regained his composure and said, "Hear that? We got a war on our hands, folks. Some damn army who I never even heard of before is attacking the city. But don't you worry, we'll have everything under control shortly. So if you've got any thoughts of escaping, forget it. And don't try creating a disturbance either, or I'll shoot the lot of you."
With that, the sergeant turned and hurried off. Marvin looked quizzically at Elsa.
"A lot has happened since we struck camp last night," she said.
"I'll say," Marvin replied. "I can understand mutants sneaking up on us while we were sleeping. They've been after us ever since Perry pulled a fast one on them seven months ago. But what's this about a war? Has San Diego attacked again?"
"Not San Diego. Some city no one ever knew existed, named Alameda, from far, far away. But that's not the worst of it. The insects have finally attacked."
The insects. Desert beetles. Cockroaches, really, except they fed on human flesh. Periodically the city would be attacked by hordes of mindless beetles, swarming up from distant corridors in a seasonal migration toward some unknown destination. The city's police would don polyurethane suits, masks, and cylindrical tanks with hoses to fight off the ravenous beetles with poison gas.
"The Alameda army attacked the city early this morning," Elsa continued. "Within an hour or two, they had captured the suburbs. They were making rapid progress toward the city's center when, suddenly, the insects attacked."
"I'll bet that surprised them. Do they have insects in that place, whatever it's called, Amalthea?" Marvin asked.
"Alameda. The story is Alameda's insects don't eat people. These beetles caught the Alameda army totally unawares."
"Good for them," Marvin chuckled.
"Now the Alameda army is trapped inside the city, with the cops before them and the insects at their backs," Elsa concluded.
"Sounds pretty hairy, huh, Marv?" Flaherty asked, his words obscured slightly by a mouthful of potato chips. "This prison is probably the safest place we could be right now."
Frankie and Harrigan exchanged glances, their eyes drifting down toward each other's genitals.
"Where's Perry right now?" Marvin asked Elsa.
"The prison hospital."
Marvin was about to inquire into Perry's prospects for recovery when shouting erupted at the far end of the hall. Marvin walked over to the door of the cell and peered out. Apparently, something had thrown the policemen on duty into turmoil. Marvin strained to catch what they were saying, but he couldn't make it out.
Marvin had just gone and sat down again beside Elsa when the police sergeant appeared outside their cell.
"Well, son, you're not going to be electrocuted," he said to Marvin. The policeman was obviously intent on saying something to Marvin, but instead of continuing, he looked distractedly up and down the hallway, fingering his cap all the while, which he held in his pudgy hands. He shouted to a partner running through the offices at the end of the hall, but failed to catch the man's attention. Finally, he said, "The mayor betrayed the city. All of our poison gas has been rendered impotent. You lousy bastards are going to get devoured by the beetles!" The sergeant let out a manic laugh. Marvin jumped up and lunged at the door.
"You gotta let us out!" Marvin yelled.
The policeman tossed a pocket-size portable television into the cell.
"Here, you can watch the latest reports on your impending doom," the sergeant said. With that, he scurried off down the hall, leaving Marvin to shout after his retreating footsteps.
Elsa turned on the television.
"It's reported that the mayor made a plot with San Diego several months ago," an announcer intoned. "The Chief of Police says he saw the mayor leave the city as soon as it was learned that the insects were attacking. Chief Pallock told Newsvision that he attempted to stop the mayor but was unsuccessful."
"A bug!" Flaherty screamed. He leapt up, spilling his potato chips, as a lone cockroach scurried across the prison floor.
"Stomp on it!" Frankie yelled.
Flaherty shrank fearfully against the wall of the cell as Frankie and Harrigan bombarded the cockroach with a flurry of footstomps.
"We gotta get out of here," Marvin said worriedly.
Marvin sat musing. Elsa sat next to him, hunched over, watching the television as it went through an endless litany of repeating news clips. Nearby, Frankie and Harrigan stood guard against the occasional cockroach that appeared inside their prison cell. Flaherty crouched in a corner, whining fearfully about the insects, interrupting that monologue to complain about the absence of their evening meal.
Marvin used to carry a book around with him that he would use to start fires. He would tear out several pages and use them to kindle the fledgling flame. A few times he made an effort to read the remaining pages when he was bored and had nothing to do. He told Elsa about what he had read once or twice, but she dismissed it as utter nonsense.
The book claimed that man once lived on a ball of dirt that floated in nothingness. Instead of an elaborate network of corridors, the universe was said to be nearly empty, with only an occasional planet or star to be found. Even Marvin couldn't buy that. He knew that the stars were like furnaces in a house, and any planet like a cellar coal bin. The idea that there were once furnaces and coal bins floating around in emptiness without the house was ludicrous.
Of course, there had been a war, and much of the "house" still lay in darkness. Here and there a city had constituted itself amidst the corridors, its citizens clustering around the bright blaze of its restored electrical supply. Ontario, the city of Marvin's birth, and the city which now held him prisoner, was a tumultuous place, torn by civil strife. The Oligarchy which had held Ontario in a tight grip for decades was rapidly losing ground to the restless, impoverished masses. Everyone agreed that what was needed was a strong leader who could reunite the people and restore Ontario's past glory; when it had held San Diego as a subject state.
Marvin's reverie was interrupted by the noise of a crowd breaking into the offices at the end of the hall. A mob of people came down the corridor, unlocking the prison cells as they went.
"Run, friends," a man shouted as he freed Marvin and the others.
NEXT: Corpse Catharsis |
14,885 | sex sister chapter 3 | "Now, girls, we are going to go on a little ride." "The sisters will help you get ready."
Several sisters brought out a large collection of leather corsets, boots, and dark stockings. Busy hands placed the corsets around the naked torso of the pledges. Nipples were pinched, and butts were grabbed while all of this was going on. The corsets barely covered the nipples and left most of the asses exposed. The naked pussy was only covered by the length of the corset, but anyone below waist level would have seen the clean-shaven lips. Long, shiny boots were pulled onto the feet of the young, scared girls. When the dressing was done, the seven girls looked like a chorus line from bondage heaven. Their hands remained behind them in the handcuffs, which helped to push their breasts up in the cups.
"Get into the van in the garage," Mimi ordered. The older sisters put their purple robes back on, but the pledges wore only what they had on. There were no windows in the van, and they drove out to the suburbs in the large vehicle. Soon they were in the suburbs north of San Diego. They pulled into the parking lot of a small liquor store next to an adult book store and theater. A massage parlor completed this run-down shopping center. Only a few cars were in the lot. The president of the sorority turned to Stacy. "Stacy, you will go get some beer for the girls; here's some money."
"But I'm practically naked, and my hands are tied," Stacy protested. "How can I do that?"
"So you are, now 'get.'" Mimi took some money and shoved it down the front of the leather corset. The van door slid open, and Stacy slowly got out into the cool night air. She darted into the store, and she knew her whole face was red. The young man behind the counter almost fainted when the leather-bound, almost-naked goddess entered the store.
"Give me some beer, quick," Stacy said, breathing hard. The clerk fumbled around with the bag but kept his eyes on the heaving breasts of the blond babe.
"That's eight dollars," he whispered to her. "Where's your money?"
"It's in my corset; I guess you'll have to get it since my hands are tied."
"I don't see any money," stammered the teenage boy. "Your tits are so big, I can't see anything."
"Put your fingers down there and get it," Stacy told him in a soft, sexy voice.
The clerk looked at the corset but saw no visible money. He tried to get his hands between the tan flesh but found it too tight. Undoing the lacing and clasps of the top allowed him to finally reach the money, but this also allowed Stacy's hot pink nipples to pop into view. The cut of the leather pushed them out over the edge. The young man could hardly count the money, and a bulge was growing in his jeans.
"You don't have enough here," he told her. "The case is eight dollars, and there is only five here."
"But I only have five," Stacy whimpered.
"Then I guess you'll have to work it out in trade, is that ok?" came a voice from the door. It was the senior leader with a devilish smile on her face. "If that's ok with you," she smirked at the clerk.
"Sure," he gulped.
"Go ahead, Stacy, suck this poor boy's cock and pay for the beer," ordered the older girl.
Stacy went behind the counter, and the clerk helped her get down on her knees. The clerk fumbled with his zipper and then pulled his pants open to reveal a huge cock. As soon as Stacy's open mouth touched the flesh, it grew and grew until it was throbbing at its full 10 inches. "Suck him off good, pledge." "Let's see how much of that nice cock you can take." Stacy knew this was one thing she did well. Her uncle had been a good teacher. Opening her pink lips even more, she slowly let the hot flesh enter her throat. The large head of his cock was now touching the back of her throat, and she had to breathe through her nose. Slurping sounds grew loud as she increased the suction on the male organ. She let her teeth lightly scrape but barely touch the hot flesh. Her tongue was swishing against the large head of the prick. Stacy knew how to give a mean blow job, and she was going to show the leader of the gang how good she was. Her head moved side to side and back and forth, and she knew that it would not be long for this poor victim to blow his load of cream. He was moaning and whispering about how much he loved her. When he let out a yell, Stacy knew that the cum was here. It blasted against the back of the throat. It tasted good and salty, and she swallowed eagerly. Some of the hot load was running down her mouth and dripping from her chin onto her large tits. Her mouth was clamped around the fleshy head, and she wanted to keep it there.
A hand went under her arms, and she was pulled up. "That's enough for that miserable man, pledge," the senior told her. "Get back in the van." They left the store, leaving the clerk with his pants around his ankles and a dazed look on his face. The girls in the van took the beers that Stacy had earned. The senior grabbed Stacy's face and gave a tongue kiss. "Nothing like beer and cum, right, pledge?"
Arcy could only stare at her friend. Her boobs were hanging free in the night air, and there was a white cream on her chin. Her eyes were full of fire, though, and she knew that Stacy had passed her test. |
14,987 | 8 Bikini Brigade part 8 of 22 (NND) dec13 | "Quit eating so many lollipops, Al, or you'll turn into a little girl," Matilda snapped. Al bent and picked yet another Tootsie-Pop out of the grass. He already had a handful of them, as did the others, including even Matilda, who ate hers with a certain degree of lust that she'd not felt since she was ten.
"Given the catering we've had on this expedition of yours, I can hardly blame him," Glenda said.
"Oh, I'm so glad we found these lollipops growing wild in the meadow," Wilma said. She hurried along after the others, who were walking, after picking yet more of them.
"Growing wild?" Matilda asked. She raised the lollipop she was eating and looked at it. "I hardly would say they're growing wild. We're obviously on some big movie set. Some idiot came along and planted these things in the ground. Tasty, though," Matilda added, and took another hungry lick from hers.
"It's the first food we've had since we got here!" Al said. "I told you we should have stayed in that forest and eaten candy apples."
Glenda listened to the distant sound of waves curling and breaking against the shore. She looked to her right and out over a vast sea. She saw no sign of any rainbow. Just clouds, and blue sky, with perhaps a storm forming in the distance.
"That was a better location than we're in now," Glenda said. "And we've seen no sign of the girls."
"Well, we've just got to keep walking," Matilda said.
They crossed to the top of another hill in the grasslands and that's when they saw it. It lay beyond a thin stand of trees. It looked like a marsh. A big, white marsh. Al sniffed the air.
"I smell marshmallows!" Al said happily.
"Oh, I like marshmallows!" Wilma said.
"Look. Up ahead, there's a sign," Glenda said. The four of them walked up to a golden brown sign that had licorice-colored letters on it. It read:
"Marshmallow Marsh."
"Hmmm," Matilda said.
"That sign looks awfully edible," Wilma said, staring at it.
Tommy was working. He was in his comfy hole once more, under the bridge. A sign reading "Home Sweet Home" hung from the wall. A fire cast light from a fireplace in the corner. He stood wearing an apron, hunched over a workbench. He was making adjustments to a long metal object in his hands. On the workbench was another object, identical to the one he held.
The room was a living room. It had a big Jujyfruit fish hanging over the fireplace. It had two overstuffed chairs, and a big couch with lace doilies for headrests. Scattered throughout the room, though, sitting up on the chairs and all over the floor, were bits and pieces of metal. There were machines, and half-finished machines. There were plastic hoses and rubber grommets. Tommy's tools were scattered all over the room. Hanging next to the "Home Sweet Home" sign, tacked up apparently at random, was a calendar. There was a nude female troll on it.
"Too bad Mom died," Tommy groused to himself, bending over the long object in his hands. "She'd have brought me dinner if she were still alive." He held up the object and gazed at it in the light from the fire. The flames glinted off it. It had a barrel and a trigger and a handgrip. "Now if I could just get the damn thing to shoot," Tommy said.
A sound of footsteps, crossing the bridge above him, echoed down into his hole.
"Yippee! There's somebody now!" Tommy said. "They'd better pay me a toll or they're going to get shot!"
The bridge was long. It ran for a hundred feet across the white expanse of Marshmallow Marsh. Glenda gazed at the surface of the marsh as they stepped up on the bridge and began to cross it.
"This place has one hell of a special effects department," Glenda said.
"Ah," Matilda said. She waved her arm dismissively. "I'll bet you most of what we're seeing is just a painting!"
"A painting?" Wilma asked. She looked over the side of the bridge. A big, white foam bubble appeared underneath her and then popped and disappeared back into the marshmallow ooze. She glanced out farther. She saw a white-colored turtle. It crawled down off a log floating in the white bog and slipped into the goo. Moss-covered cypress trees stood over them, blocking out the midday sun like a shroud.
"Who goes there?!" bellowed a voice behind them. The four of them whirled about. They saw a small figure at the end of the bridge, where they'd entered the marsh. He was holding two guns.
"Who are you? Security?" Matilda asked.
"I'm Tommy the Troll!" Tommy announced. The fact that he was wearing short pants did nothing to add to his hopes of appearing fearsome. Had he considered the matter, he might have done something about this, but Trolls had always worn short pants, and small rubber boots, since time immemorial. And his mom, when she was alive, wouldn't serve him dinner if he didn't dress like a proper Troll.
"It's a damn midget," Matilda said to Al and Glenda and Wilma.
"We're trying to find two little girls," Wilma said to the troll.
"One is a brunette, and the other is a blonde," Glenda said.
"And not bad-looking, either," Al added, speaking as he sucked on a lollipop. Matilda gave him a scowl.
"Have you seen any girls?" Matilda asked.
"It's rumored there are two girls somewhere," Tommy said. "Hopefully they're with Licorice Lad by now, in the Citadel of Sweets."
"Bingo!" Matilda said. She grinned broadly at her friends. "You see? I was right all along. Those girls are here! Somewhere around here!"
"But first you must pay me a toll," Tommy said.
"A what?" Glenda asked. She asked it crossly and Tommy felt his knees shake a bit, the way she said it. It reminded him of times when people declared him guilty, and sent him off to the dungeon.
"A- A toll," Tommy said. He kept his guns leveled on them.
"And what if we don't pay it?" Matilda asked.
"Then I'm going to shoot you," Tommy said matter-of-factly.
"I can't believe this," Matilda muttered.
"In fact, I'm hoping you don't pay me a toll, as I do need to shoot somebody, regardless," Tommy added.
"You shouldn't shoot people. It's not nice," Wilma said.
"Yes. You should only shoot people when you're arresting them," Al said. "And then only if you have to."
"And when you're executing them," Glenda said, with a deep frown. She didn't like being on this bridge and she didn't like being in this marsh and she certainly didn't like having a strange little man point a gun at her.
"Well, you're all going to get shot then!" Tommy declared. He pulled the triggers on his guns. A small dribble of marshmallow dripped from their tips. It fell down onto the walkway of the bridge. "Rats," Tommy added.
"Why, dammit! That little freak tried to shoot us!" Glenda said. With a bold step she strode forward. She was a tall woman. She raised up her hand like Tommy's teacher used to do in school, and he could see by her approach that if he didn't find a way to make his guns shoot properly, he was going to get thwacked. Maybe even put over her knee and spanked.
"Yikes!" Tommy cried. Almost dropping his guns, he turned and leapt off the bridge. He darted into his hole underneath it and slammed shut the door to his underground house. There were weeds growing in front of the door to hide it, and when Glenda bent over the bridge's railing all she saw were the weeds.
"He's gone," Glenda said.
"Well, no matter," Matilda said. "He's just some short little kid with squirt guns. But he has seen the girls! That's what's important. Let's move along, ladies. You too, Lolita," she added, with a glance at Al.
We bathed in a hot spring inside Fruitcake Fort. The spring had been enclosed inside walls of fruitcake, in a small room.It was our first taste of privacy. Katie and I enjoyed it.
"This is fun," Katie said. She was submerged to her chin in the water. She put a bubble-blower to her lips, a gift from Freddie, and blew a big bubble.
"Yes," I agreed. I lay on a soft towel next to the steaming pool. I was nude. We'd taken off our bikinis to bathe. The pieces of them floated aimlessly along one edge of the pool.
"Do you want to go to the Bon Bon Forest and eat lots of bon bons?" Katie asked me.
"Maybe," I said. "But we really should get to the Citadel of Sweets."
"And free the Sultan?" Katie asked. A tinge of worry crossed her face.
"Yes, I think that's what we must do, Katie," I told her. "Don't you think so?"
"I don't know," Katie said. She blew another big bubble, even bigger than the one she'd blown before. It floated up into the air and then it popped. "We could just eat bon bons in the Bon Bon Forest for the rest of our lives."
"With Bon Bon Bibi?" I asked.
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind," Katie said.
"We'd get big and fat like she is, and never meet any boys," I told her.
"Hmmmm," Katie said. She blew another bubble. She seemed unable to decide which she liked better: boys or bon bons.
Outside, a sparkling figure wafted down into the courtyard of Fruitcake Fort.
"Ho! Who goes there? Lord Fruitcake, we have a visitor!" a gingerman called from the walls of the fort. There was a commotion in the courtyard. Gingermen gathered around the visitor. With her were several others, and they now wafted down, just as she'd done, out of the low-hanging clouds. Each visitor was mounted on a large, clear lollipop. Each one sat on the lollipop portion and the stick of the lollipop extended out between each person's legs. They looked like witches riding brooms.
The first to land now dismounted from her lollipop. She looked about 15-years-old. She had long golden hair that hung to her waist. It was curled, lightly, where it hung free, and where it did not hang free it was bound into two very long, rope-like braids.
"I am Lolita," the girl said. She wore a long, flowing dress that was covered with lollipops. They sparkled profusely, despite the dimness of the light coming from the overcast sky. Her voice was almost a whisper. Yet it conveyed great power.
Freddie Fruitcake came stumbling out of a room of the fort. He had been undressed for bed and now he quickly was trying to get his wardrobe back on, even as he hurried across the courtyard.
"Lolita-- what brings you here?" Freddie asked. "I thought for a moment we were being attacked!" Lolita regarded him with quiet, unassuming eyes.
"The hour is late," Lolita said. "Both for this day and for my father's kingdom."
"Yes," Freddie said. Nervously he drew himself up before the girl, and finished getting his coat on. He was wearing a long coat now, in addition to his parachute pants, but no shirt. He pulled his coat around himself so as not to make a display of his bare chest to the girl.
"I was just turning in to bed," Freddie said.
The light in the courtyard grew dimmer. Night was closing in upon them. The gingermen lit torches and carried them forward to where Lolita was standing. But her own dress, bedecked with sparkling lollipops, cast out a glowing light of its own.
"I didn't know you could fly up mountains on those damn things," Freddie said to Lolita. He pointed at the lollipop she'd ridden into the fort on. It floated several feet off the ground, nobody sitting on it at the moment. Lolita's retainers each dismounted from his own lollipop. Some of the retainers were males. Others females. They all wore sparkling attire.
"It was not possible before," Lolita said. She crossed the courtyard with Freddie. The wind caught at her dress and blew it, sending showers of light across the snow-covered ground. "One could float just a little--"
"Yes. Sort of like a trick," Freddie said.
"It is due to the changes wrought since my father was thrown in the dungeon by Licorice Lad," Lolita said. "It is only temporary. I think my father is concentrating his power upon it. He has sent word to me to find two girls. Bambi and Katie are their names. They are here?"
"Yes," Freddie said. "They're having a bath right now, I think. This way--"
"No, let them enjoy their bath," Lolita replied.
Freddie opened a fruitcake door and led Lolita inside to the interior of the fort. Her retainers followed, as well as several gingermen. Sugar and snow began falling thickly outside. It covered the lollipops and threatened to weigh them down to the earth.
Pauline Praline floated on an ice cream sandwich. She sat counting her fingers.
"One... two... three... four... five," Pauline announced to the waves. "Five. I have five fingers!" she said happily. An ice cream cone, floating in the waves, bumped against the side of the sandwich raft she was sitting on. Pauline crawled across the sandwich. Then she remembered that she'd learned to walk and she got up and walked instead. She went to the side of the sandwich and bent down.
"Yum!" Pauline said, looking at the ice cream. It was vanilla, with a cherry on top. It even had rainbow sprinkles on it. Pauline plucked it out of the creamy sea. She began eating it. "This is one," Pauline said to herself. "One ice cream cone. For me, Pauline Praline!"
The aurora borealis glowed in the sky. Ice bergs floated in the distance. Pauline sat back down on her ice cream sandwich and ate the entire ice cream cone. She was very happy. Then she lay down on the sandwich and took a nap. |
15,751 | New Car Sex | "Michael must have been feeling it, too. At the first opportunity, he pulled off next to a country field, as there was no one around for miles. He always gets really hot watching me masturbate, so I lifted up my flimsy cotton skirt and, with one hand, I spread my pussy lips apart, and with the other, I dipped my middle finger deep into my juicy hole. I really worked it good, making sure that Michael could see everything. I could see the bulge in his pants grow by the second. As I was working my creamy snatch, Michael reached over and removed my tank top. I pushed my full breasts into his face, and he nibbled on my swollen nipples, blowing on them so he could see them stand at attention. Next, he pushed my hand aside and began fingering me himself. He pushed two fingers all the way inside me, and it made me go wild! I love to gobble on my husband's enormous love tool, so I moved into position and traced the tip of my tongue over the head. I could feel Michael shudder with pleasure. I darted my tongue back and forth over the little slit in the top of his cock to tease him, and just when he couldn't stand any more, I took the full length into my mouth. Using just enough suction and a well-timed up and down motion, I brought him to a crashing orgasm. One thing Michael has always loved is to come all over me, so just at the moment of ecstasy, I pulled away and let his come fly! It landed all over my ample, perky tits, and some of it went onto my hair." |
14,572 | My Mother, My Cum Sponge | "Keith, darling. Do you think your mother is a slut?" Karen asked.
The boy grinned down at his middle-aged mom, his stiff prick half crammed up her big ass.
"I don't know, Mom. Do most sons get to fuck their mothers up the butt?"
"No.... No, Keith. And I guess most other mommies don't suck off their son's big boners, either. And I'll even bet they would never allow their sons to bathe with them, or even play naked together in bed!"
Keith snickered, then sank another few inches of his Crisco-slathered prick into his mother's itchy asshole.
"Some people are weird, Mom. Squirm your asscheeks a little more."
Karen Thibedeau was 47 years old. She'd been a tantalizingly stacked and pretty brunette in her twenties and thirties. Now her hair had a touch of grey, and her big breasts hung heavier and lower on her chest. Her ass had widened to matronly proportions. All of this never failed to get her son's cock rock hard. She took her kid's erection as a compliment and now felt a mother's obligation to bring relief to his balls. It was a task she attended to several times a day.
"Ummm! Okay, Keith," the aging mother on hands and knees groaned, bracing her mature body for a delicious assault. "Go ahead, son. Pump it in and out of Mommy's butt really, really hard! Do it, son!"
His big balls slapping loudly against his mom's upturned ass cheeks, Keith fucked her fast and hard, reaching under her soft body to lewdly grope Karen's sagging boobs.
"Oh yeah! Your old ass feels great, Mom. Wiggle your buns some more... yeah, like that! Can I slap your ass a couple of times for fun?"
"Oooo! That sounds wonderful, dear. Eeeee! And feels wonderful too! Oh God! I guess Mommy is a slut, Keith. A horny old fucking lady! Most mothers are cooking dinner for their sons right now -- and here I am with your teenage cock inside me! Another mom might complain if her boy spilled his milk. But --ooooooo! Keith! -- I let you spill your cum all over my face!"
"Yeah!" her boy pulled his shit-stained prick from Karen's stretch-marked bottom. "Yeah, turn over, Mom! I wanna fuck ya between the tits an' shoot my load on you!"
"Why, certainly, Keith! An older mom must keep her teenager happy. And if a boy needs to squirt his cum all over his mother's face to be happy -- oh, even if he needs to smear his creamy glop all over her lipstick mouth, making her eat it -- why, then, Keith, this mom is only too happy to indulge herself in such enlightened activities!"
"That's good, Mom, 'cause I've sure got a jumbo-sized load. And I can't wait to splatter it all over you!"
The happy boy got on top of his loving mother, straddling her ribcage. He leered at the pale flesh of her drooping melons, playing with her goosebumped areolas and plucked a single coarse hair from Karen's left nipple.
"Oops! Thank you, darling. Older women sometimes get a hair or two growing on their breasts."
"It's cool, Mom."
He mauled her flesh for a while, then slipped his throbbing meat between her sweaty cleavage and began fucking his mother's spongy tits.
"Oh, Keith, sweetheart! This is sooooo obscene! And fun too, isn't it?"
The shameless parent opened her mouth and hung her tongue out, ready for Keith's cock syrup to spread across her face like she was a plate of flapjacks.
"Awww, Mom, you look so slutty like that. Can't hold it! You're making me cum! It's gonna shoot! Ahhhhhhhh! Mommeeeeeee!!!"
Keith's cock exploded all over Karen's face, hair, and tits. Huge gobs stained the woman obscenely, making the mature mom look like a day-old glazed donut.
He laughed at her as he beat out the last few squirts and wiped the knob on his mom's salt-and-pepper hair like it was his cum sponge, dizzy in his brain over what his own mother just let him do.
"You're a slut, Mommy! Mommy's a slut! A fuck-cunt old slut! Aw, Mommy! That felt so good, Mommy! I love your made-up face, Mommy, the way my cum drips down your chin onto your tits! Awwwww...!"
He collapsed onto his mother's frosted flesh, his mouth seeking hers, his thick tongue sinking into it for a deep, tongue-slurping French kiss.
"Oh, Keith," Karen sighed, lolling in a puddle of her son's cum, "I'm so happy to have a beautiful young son like you.... Keith, Mommy wants to do something extra special with you now. Would you like to come into the bathroom with me, darling? I want you to see me pee. I'll spread my legs so you can see it flowing right out of my body? Would you like that, son?"
"Oh, man, would I!"
The mother swung her cum-dripping ass sexily from side to side as she led her boy into the bathroom.
The night's fun at the Thibedeau home was just beginning. |
14,620 | Beyond Chiang Mai | "I need a hero,
He has got to be strong,
He has got to be fast
He has got to be fresh from the fight."
I leaned over and turned off the radio. The floor is cool on my bare feet, it is early morning. Tiptoeing across the hall, I ever so gently open the door and slip in under the floral sheet. She lies on her side in a satin pink baby doll. Gorgeous reddish-brown hair spills over her pillow. I can't resist. It has been too long. Gently and slowly, careful not to disturb her, I work my hand to her waist. The satin is delightfully cool. The curve of her hips under my trembling hand, over to her thigh, on bare skin now, warmer but still cool. She stirs, rearranges a leg, a sleepy moan exhaled from parted lips. Under the baby doll now, encouraged and so very excited, oh, she feels so good, tight, firm, she stirs again and rolls onto her back. Her love mound is trimmed back, a perfect little triangle, hair in tight curls, the same reddish-brown. I enter her, my finger in her folds then in under her clit. She is moist, not yet wet, I cuddle my erection against her thigh, trying not to hump her leg too hard. Another finger in, it has been so long.
"Uh, ohhh, Shaaane.. Uh, oh. Oh, Reggie, it's you. Not now, honey." My wife of four years wakens. "You know, I have to go to work. What is it, Friday? Staff meeting with the Old Man..." She puckers her lips in a kiss, towards me.
"Would it hurt if you were a few minutes late?" I slide to cover the distance that has grown between my cock and the warmth of her body. My hand goes for her breast while the other seeks reentry, but it's too late. She rolls from bed.
"I am turning blue."
"Oh, honey, you are so sweet," she smiles. Giving me a rare treat, she strikes a tennis pose, legs slightly apart, she stretches her arms over her head, taking to her toes. What a body. Lean from Weight Watchers, even though they say she should eat more. Strong and firm from jazzercise on Tuesdays, then gym three afternoons a week and a mile in the pool on the off days. In one fluid motion, the pink satin is pulled over her head, another smile for me, and she playfully throws it in my face.
I breathe it in deeply.
"Oh, look at the time. Got to run. Do I have to get the coffee myself?"
"Sorry, dear. I'll get it."
French roast, artificial sweetener, her vitamins just the way Colleen likes it. I put a birth control pill in a paper cup on the tray. I wonder why, she never lets me touch her anymore. She is coming from the shower, an oversized towel wrapped around her, tucked between her breasts, another around her hair.
"Oh Reggie, the Old Man is having another garden party Sunday." She shakes her hair, bending forward to brush it out.
"Sometimes I think that you only keep me around for your bosses' parties, or his dinners, or theater."
"You know how much of a family man the Old Man is. Ever since his niece disappeared, he lives for the family. He likes that in all his people," she blew a kiss towards me. "Even wants me to start a family."
"We could."
"Not a chance."
"Thanks a lot." My wife made a kissing motion with her lips. "You know what I mean."
"I could go back to work, full-time. With my salary, you would not have to work so much. I never get to see you anymore. You have your own bedroom, go to work, then exercise with your girlfriends. I have your snack waiting for you when you get home, and you fall asleep."
"Oh, don't start with me, Reginald. Not now. You know what this job means to me. Not to mention the pay. Anyway, I need you, honey, there is so much to do. Remember we tried it with you working, nothing around the house ever got done." She turned on the blow dryer to end the discussion.
"Honey, touch up the collar on this blouse. Be careful, it's silk. Use low heat on the iron."
"The collar looks fine to me..."
"Oh, don't be silly," she blew me a kiss.
"Honey, go to the store today and pick up some margarita mix. The girls are coming over tomorrow. Be a dear and clean the patio."
"Again? I guess you want me out of the house?"
"Would you, dear? Oh, that is sweet of you. I will put an extra ten in your house money. Go take in a movie or buy one of those adventure books that you like so much. It's just that this is for us girls."
Colleen put on the blouse. She wore thigh-high stockings with a vine pattern on each leg. I had driven by in the old Ford, if her girlfriends were over, they must have walked because there were no cars in the driveway, only the pool man's truck. He was not much of a pool cleaner either. On Sunday mornings, there would still be leaves on the bottom.
"Shall I call the pool boy and cancel? I wouldn't want him to distract your friends."
"No, that's all right. Shane is no bother."
"Shane?"
"Oh... Shane or Sam, I'm not sure."
"I just thought that those shorts he always wears would be distracting to your card game. You would think that with all the money we are paying him, he could get some shorts that cover his ass. And he could wear a shirt, but I guess he wants to show off those pecs."
"No, it's OK. Brenda likes to watch him. You know what a slut Brenda is. She thinks he is a hunk." She picked a black leather skirt, way high over her knee. "I have nice legs, don't you think?" she asked, looking herself in the mirror. "Nice." She ran a hand across her flat stomach.
Turning to me, "What you need is a little change of scenery," she said. "Old Man Bodwell is after me to start a family. You are getting restless. I have been wanting to tell you. I guess now is a good time."
"I approached Bodwell after our racquetball game, Tuesday. You know how he just loves to see me run around in that little skirt. I have a hell of a time letting him win. He is actually pretty good when he can keep his mind off my ass. Anyway, Old Man Bodwell would do and pay anything to find out what happened to his girls. I told you about it. Don't you remember? Last year, both mother and daughter got involved in narcotics, ran up some bills, then disappeared to avoid the creditors. Left a good job at British Airways. Took everyone by surprise. Well, I told the Old Man that you are a private investigator and would try to find his girls. He went for it. Agreed to pay your expenses and if you actually find something, to give me, I mean us, give us a bonus."
"What? That's crazy! I'm a teacher, not some kind of international gumshoe."
"An unemployed shop teacher. Remember? Reggie, you always sell yourself short. That's your problem, you have no ambition. That's why without me, you are nothing. Oh Reggie, you can do it, Reggie. Do it for me."
"There is no way that I can find anything about missing girls. What do I know about detective stuff?"
"Honey, you read all those silly mystery books. Don't you see, Reggie honey baby. That is the beauty of it. Bodwell will love me just for trying. If you actually find out something, that is even better. And who knows, perhaps we will just make something up. With that partnership opening up, I can't lose."
She gave me that look. It has always worked for her. There is not a man alive that can resist it. Even women fall for it.Why, I once saw a motorcycle cop reduce a 95 mph speeding ticket to a warning on that look alone. And then escorted her BMW to the polo grounds.
"There is nothing to it, honey bunny. Just walk around a little bit, ask some questions, see the sights, and come back in two or three weeks and say that they were kidnapped and probably killed or something. Nothing to it at all."
Colleen stood, her eyes bright with the thought of it. Barely five-five, leather mini, fuck me heels, red hair. "Honey, the partnership is what we have been working for all these years. Once I land it, things will be different. I know how difficult it has been for you," she whispered in my ear, a hand rubbing my nipple. She took me in her hand and squeezed, my knees buckled.
"I promise." Her lips traveled down my chest. Pajama bottoms were at my feet. Dropping to one knee, she puckered her lips, blowing warm breath on my throbbing member. Her tongue peeked out, giving me a sweet but brief lick. Expertly, her hand worked my shaft, then snapped my cock down between my legs as I shuddered, shooting my load on my own leg.
"Sorry, honey, but I have a staff meeting in thirty minutes. Have to run. How's my lipstick? Plane tickets and money are on the counter. Bodwell wrote a little note telling what he knows and an address in London. Clean yourself up, that is disgusting!"
Colleen was out the door, pulling on her jacket, getting into the BMW. "Pick up some margarita mix and tequila before you leave. Call me. Leave a message on my machine." She blew me a kiss. "Love ya." The taillights glowed red.
I looked at the tickets. Red-eye flight to London. I would be gone by the time Colleen got back. I didn't know when I would see her again. |
14,304 | The Power | "Power. That's what it comes down to. Sex is just about Power. Did you know that?"
Sorry, darling, I can't answer you because your cock's in my throat.
"Power over women, the power to sexually satisfy them, to make them cum again and again and again; that's the key."
Say, just what are you on about?
"You see, very few men can exert that power, because most men can't satisfy a woman fully. I'm lucky, I'm one of the few who can."
I've never known any man talk so much while being deep-throated. Is this your cock, and not some fake rubber protrusion, right?
"That's why there are so many lesbians, you see. They're not attracted to other women, but they haven't been able to find a man who can satisfy them. If they're lucky, then they meet me. I cure them."
What total garbage. I'd tell you so, too, if only I could talk with all this man-meat jammed in my esophagus.
"And now I'm going to satisfy you, because I have the Power."
Hey, mate, take your hands away this instant! I don't like men who try to crush my face into their crotch, especially not when their cocks are down my throat!
"Get ready, darling, you're about to be satisfied."
I'm not joking now; get your hands off my head NOW or I'll castrate you with my teeth!
"Here it comes... OOOOOhhhhhwuuuuugggggghhhh........"
Oh, nice, I'm forced to have your cum inseminated straight into my stomach. I don't even get to taste it! Right, Mr. I've-Got-The-Power, you've asked for it.
"There; I'll bet you've never felt satisfaction like that before, eh?"
Don't think you can get around me by just removing your hands - it's too late for that. Maybe I will bite your cock off - no, I've got a better idea. Gosh, doesn't your cock get limp fast. I didn't take it out of my mouth, it shrunk itself out of my mouth!
This smile is false, by the way, and so is the satisfied sigh and the way I'm clutching at you in a sexually exhausted manner. Satisfied my foot! Just give you a minute or two of false security...
Ah, good, you're dozing off. Poor pet.
Unfortunately for you, we chose to come back to my place. Did you know I keep a wide variety of sex toys in a drawer at my bedside? No? Well, you're about to learn. Let's see...
Ah, yes, these handcuffs will do for starters. Click - one done. Click - two done. Oh dear, the clicks have woken you up...
"Errrrhhhhhhh - Eh? What's this?"
Don't ask stupid questions, darling - I've handcuffed your hands to the headboard, so it isn't a crochet lesson! If I told you it was a bit of light bondage, would you believe me? Probably not. On the other hand, maybe you would... Only one way to find out.
"Light bondage, eh? Okay, I'm game - but whatever you do I'll still satisfy you."
Well, there's a surprise. Now, time to suck this tiny member back to life... I've done this a bit, though mostly because I needed a cock up me... there, that didn't take long, did it? Not a bad size, either... nothing to write home about, mind, but I've seen smaller. That's a nice idea, you put your legs over my shoulders while I suck your cock for a few moments...
That way you're all unawares when I do ... THIS ... and cuff your ankles to the headboard! Aha, weren't expecting a forward thrust, were you!
"Hey, what's going on! This isn't fair!"
Fair - who said sex was fair? As you've said so many times, it's all about Power. Afraid I'll have to leave your cock now, mister - say, do you think it's large? Well, it doesn't look so large when you compare it to THIS strap-on dildo, does it? I've only used this dildo once, but my friend found it too big for her cunt. You don't have a cunt, so you won't have that problem.
"What-what're you doing!"
I'd have thought that was obvious. This strap fastens here, this one here, and - tada, instant cock! Oooh, and that position you're in leaves your anus SO exposed... hehe...
"No, please, don't - owww!"
Oh, what a cry-baby. I should have gagged you. What's the matter, never taken anything in the ass before? No? Well, now you know what it feels like when you force your dong up some poor girl's virgin asshole. Don't worry, as you guys are always telling us, it'll be worth it when it's in.
Of course, you do usually lubricate your cocks somehow. Doh - knew there was something... it's too late now, isn't it. Just don't cry so, it's not a quarter in yet!
What a fuss you're making over just one little dildo! Did you know that at college I took five cocks inside me on one occasion? Two up my ass, two in my cunt, and one down my throat! I ached for days afterwards, but it was worth it. I'm sure you'll find that this is the same.
There; it's all in now. This is the fun bit - it's time to pump. I'll go gently at first, so - slowly, out out out out, that's right, now must get it back quickly before you tighten up, in in in in.
That's not so bad, now, is it? Out out out out - oh dear, is that blood I see on the dildo? Ah well, I suppose it'll help to lubricate your asshole - in in in in.
Out out out out - and in in in in. Out out out out - in in in in. Out out out out - in in in in.
And now we pick up speed. Out out out - in in in. Out out out - in in. Out out - in in. Out out - in in. Out - in. Out - in.
That's right, now I'm really fucking you. Oh dear, you REALLY aren't enjoying this too much, are you? Is that a tear I see on your cheek? Try to enjoy it; I certainly am! Now THIS is really getting my juices flowing. In fact, it may not be too much longer before I cum. Yes, not too much longer. In fact, any moment...
ORGASM!
...phew. It's alright, I'm slowing down now. Say, look at you, huddled there crying. Anyone'd think you hadn't shared in the orgasm!
There - it's all out. Now, shall I leave you tied up for other uses... no, I think I'll show mercy. Click-Click-Click-Click - there, you're free.
Going so soon? |
15,119 | Gravity | "Come over," said Julie's voice on my answering machine when I got home from work. So I did. I crossed town to the hotel, went up to Seven, and used my key to unlock their door.
The girls were on the big white couch in the living room. Twenty-year-old Julie sat at one end; her older sister Pat lay stretched out, her head in Julie's lap. When I walked in, they were immersed in each other's eyes, lost in adoration, one of Julie's hands gently stroking Pat's face, the other down lower, stroking Pat's stomach and breasts through her sweater. They looked slowly away from each other, up at me. Lovely lips curved in deep female smiles, and their eyes caressed me alarmingly.
"Guess what?" said Pat.
"Ohmigod," I whispered.
We hugged, we laughed, we kissed, we talked, we made phone calls. Maybe we cried a little. Then Julie went off to write a letter, and Pat sat down at her desk to send some mail. I'm sitting in the armchair as she types. Her face is lush and lovely, her lips closed. I want to touch her. Her body is full and sexy in worn jeans and an old dark blue sweater. The jeans are almost white where they cover her thighs and her pussy. I imagine the warm fragrant skin of her legs and her cunt, and my cock stirs.
I walk over and stand looking down at her. She types another paragraph, hits Send. Looks up.
"Hi!" she says. God, her face is beautiful.
"You're pregnant," I say, softly and stupidly. She stands up into my arms, her body just touching me, her breasts against my chest. "I know." She raises her face to mine, our noses slide familiarly past each other, our mouths touch. Her lips are soft and warm and yielding, and I close my eyes and kiss her for a long time, breathing in the scent of her.
"And it's all your fault," she says softly when we finally move apart. I can't resist a jibe. "How do you know?"
The slap is quick and almost gentle, perfectly aimed. Her hand makes a good loud sound against my cheek, and spins my head to the side, but I keep all my teeth. "You mean," I ask, "that I'm the only person who's been in your pants these many months?"
She sucks her lower lip, that lovely muscular kissable lower lip, into her mouth for a moment, considering. "You're the only man whose sperm has been anywhere near my womb the whole time." I grin and slide my arms further around her. "Good enough," I whisper, and close my mouth over hers again. I squeeze and caress her as we kiss, and she presses her body against me.
"You know," I say as her lips move over my chin, down my neck, "it's really not fair."
"What?" nibbling on my ear and sliding her hands down my back.
"That slap. What would you do if I slapped YOU like that?" Her hands caress my ass, and she whispers in my ear. "Well, for one thing I would absolutely SOAK these panties." Again her lips are on mine, and my tongue slips into her mouth; she sucks ardently on it, and moans. I take her body firmly in my hands, nuzzle and kiss her neck, slide my hands up to her breasts. Her breathing becomes faster, deeper. "You gonna slap me?" she whispers.
"I think I can find other ways to soak your panties." Her skin is warm and flushed and infinitely valuable; we take her sweater off over her head, and I lower her back onto the rug, my mouth on her skin and my hands undoing her jeans. "God," she breathes as I slide them off, "why do I love fucking you so much?"
Her bra comes off, and I kneel between her legs, running my hands over her shoulders, her big firm breasts, soft dark erect nipples, the golden smoothness of her stomach. She stretches her arms up over her head, showing her body off for me; her panty is damp and fragrant as I slide it down her legs.
"Because you love me," I say, savoring the words, stroking her thighs, gently massaging her mons and the outer lips of her cunt. She sighs and rocks her hips upward, pressing against my hand. "Because I love you," she says, her eyes closed, lips parted. I get up long enough to get out of my clothes, and I stand naked for a moment, admiring her stretched on her back on the rug. She grins at me and reaches out with her legs, stroking the outsides of my thighs with her shins. "Get back down here," she growls.
I lie on top of her and kiss her mouth, and she puts her arms around me. My cock, hard and erect now, slides up and down the moist groove of her cunt. "Mmmmm," she purrs, pressing up against me, "mmmmm, come inside!" She reaches down and guides the head of my penis into her. Slowly, looking into the happy eager depths of her eyes, I penetrate her, the wet muscular walls of her cunt sucking at me and welcoming me in. We smile at each other like idiots, and I laugh, and she laughs, and her muscles squeeze me, and I gasp and she laughs again. Waves of pleasure begin flowing through us; her lips part and I kiss her mouth again, and we move together.
"What a coincidence, I was just reading about this!" Wrenched back to reality by Julie's sudden casual voice, I almost pull out of Pat's body, but Pat puts her hands on my ass and forces me back down, back in, and I fuck her more deeply as her sister goes on talking. Julie has flopped down on the rug next to us, holding an open "When You're Expecting" book. She reads as my penis plunges in and out of her sister.
"'Don't be afraid of intimacy while you're pregnant! Unless your doctor tells you that you have a special condition that makes it inadvisable, you can enjoy sex right through the ninth month.'"
Pat's hips rock faster under me, and she opens her mouth wide, gasping and moaning as she begins to come. I tighten the muscles of my pelvis, keeping myself from coming, and running my shaft up and down over her hard tender clit. Julie continues.
"'Cradled safe in your womb, the baby will not be disturbed by intercourse, and it may even be soothed by the gentle contractions of orgasm.'" She looks up from the book, at her sister's flushed breathless face, balanced on the edge of climax as I move slowly in and out of her. "Isn't that nice, Sister?" And Julie leans over Pat, lowers her face and kisses her sister on the mouth, gently running her tongue over Pat's lips. With a long strangled gasp, Pat comes, her cunt spasming around my cock, her hips moving in small urgent circles, her muscles tensing in waves of ecstasy. A few more thrusts, and I feel the cum rising irresistibly in me, and I come also, exploding deep in Pat's vagina, looking down at Julie's hair on Pat's face, Julie's mouth on Pat's lips, my cock thrusting uncontrollably in and out of Pat's cunt as my semen pulses out, deep in her warm fecund body.
Pat and I lie naked, damp, entwined on the rug. Julie leafs through the book, a quiet smug smile on her face. I run my hand up and down Pat's body, from her breasts, over the soft curve of her stomach, to toy with the hair of her cunt. Both of us look over at Julie, then back at each other, smiling.
"You know where the handcuffs are," Pat says. Julie turns and looks at us, eyes wide, and I reach over and put my hand on her ass, squeezing the firm young flesh through her thin cotton dress. This, surely, is paradise. |
15,384 | LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER | "Hello. Price and Grayson. How may I direct your call?" asked the receptionist.
"Janice Price, please," answered Annie, hoping she could get in touch with her best friend from a pay phone. She was running errands until she realized some of her papers were missing and hoped that Janice knew where they were.
"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Price is busy right now and asked not to be disturbed. May I ask who's calling?"
"Emily," said Annie, "it's me, Annie. I really need to get in touch with her."
"Oh. Hi, Annie," replied Emily. "Just give me a second, and I'll transfer you." Because Annie and Janice were best friends, Annie always had the privilege of contacting Janice at work whenever she wanted to. The phone in Janice's office rang once, then twice. Janice reached over to press a button.
"Ahhhh........Emily," moaned Janice, "I......I thought I told......aahhh.....told you not to disturb me!" Janice cried. Her young assistant, Beverly, was sitting on the edge of Janice's desk with her legs spread open. All she wore was a pair of light blue stockings supported by her garter belt that matched the light blue ribbon in her long wavy brown hair. Janice was bent forward with her face in front of Beverly's pussy. And behind Janice was her client, Forrest McCain, ramming her from behind into her wet, soaking pussy.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Price, but it's Annie," replied Emily.
"Oh," Janice said. She motioned Forrest to stop his ramrodding. "Okay, Emily. Put her through." Then, she pointed at Forrest with a wanton smile. "I'll get back with you in just a second." Janice picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Hi, Annie. How's my sweetheart doing?"
"Not good," replied Annie. "I lost my car title that I was going to put in my safety deposit box. Did you happen to pick it up?"
"Sorry, Annie, but I'm sure I didn't. Did you check with the restaurant?"
"I already called there and nothing. Jeff is going to kill me when he finds out."
"Hey, I'll forgive you. Just fuck his brains out."
"Janice..."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Wish I can help you more."
"That's okay."
"Are you sure you won't come up? I'm in the middle of 'negotiation.'"
"No, Janice. I'm too busy," Annie said, rolling her eyes up.
"Well, I gotta go. Gotta keep this deal hot."
"Okay. Don't 'fuck up.'"
"Bye. I love you." The two women hung up. Janice turned around naked from head to toe. "Okay, now where were we?"
"I believe I was inside of you," said Forrest.
"And you were right here," Beverly added, pointing to her twat.
"Well, then. Let's get this deal over with," cooed Janice.
Two hours have passed since Annie and Janice last spoke to each other. Annie has yet to locate her car title. At about that time, Amanda's best friend, Kimi, was visiting her, needing a shoulder to lean on.
"I just can't believe it," Kimi said. "He cheated on me. He's been cheating on me since he went to college."
"I knew it," replied Amanda. "I said I wouldn't trust him." The two girls were in Amanda's bedroom, lying on her bed with their feet at the head of the bed.
"But he's always been so nice. I guess you were right. I guess all he wanted from me was a fuck." Kimi was laying on her stomach with her head resting on her arms.
"Are you are okay?" Amanda asked, reaching over to touch Kimi.
"Hell no, I'm not okay," answered Kimi. "He used my body for over a year when I could have been fucking Danny or Roger or maybe even T.J."
"Well, while you're at it, why don't you mention some girls," responded Amanda.
"Don't tempt me," Kimi said. "Becky and Jenna invited me over for a sleepover last year."
"And....," Amanda said in anticipation.
"I never went, but the next day they and Ashley were all over each other like ice cream." Kimi smiled from ear to ear.
"Gosh. How can girls do it together?"
"My mom's done it before."
"Well, I know that. I just don't think I can." Amanda rolled over to lay on her back. "Of course I've never done it before, period, and I do get horny sometimes. Especially when you talk about your dates with Darrell. What's it like?"
"Oh, it's so fucking great." Kimi turned to face Amanda. "You feel like your body's on fire, and it's dancing all over you."
"I'm kinda scared of it," said Amanda.
"Hey, it's no big deal when you know someone close enough. Well, I thought I did, but anyway, I can't live without it." Kimi paused for a second. "Hey, Mandy?"
"Yeah?"
"Ya wanna do it?"
"You mean you and me together?" Amanda asked, astonished.
"Sure," said Kimi.
"No way," answered Amanda. "You may be my best friend, but I'm not having sex with you."
"Come on," said Kimi. "No one will know, and you've always wanted to find out. I'm your best friend. I'm not going to hurt you, and you won't get pregnant."When she walked in the door, she paused for a minute to think. Annie had a hunch and walked to the living room coffee table. Picking up the magazine she read this morning, she found the car title that was used as a bookmark. Annie let out a sigh of relief and was happy. But something was odd. Annie listened carefully and heard the faint sounds of screaming that seemed to come from Amanda's room.
Both girls were buck naked and ramming their fingers inside one another's wet, hot pussy. Amanda and Kimi screamed and moaned while facing each other. Their hearts were racing, and their breathing was heavy. Between best friends, there were no inhibitions, no secrets. Then suddenly, Amanda's bedroom door swung open.
"Amanda! Kimi!" Annie yelled. To her surprise, the two girls were engaged in teenage lesbian sex. Amanda and Kimi froze the moment they saw Annie. They were caught red-handed and didn't know what to do. |
15,428 | HypnoTV: Power Rangers | "AAAAAHHHHHH!!"
The noise coming from beneath the ocean's surface was not, as some scientists surmised, the cry of an ailing whale. Instead, it was the scream of anguish of the defeated pirate queen Divatox.
"IDIOTS!!" she screamed. The crew on the bridge of her submarine shrank back in terror as their leader stalked by. Clad in leather armor, knee-high black boots, black gloves, and a mask over her eyes, her purple-streaked hair flowing over her cape, she was a picture of fury. Even her monstrous advisers--the strong and armored Rygog, the intellectual and meek Pordo, and Divatox's dim nephew Elgar--shrank back from her rage.
"Again those lousy Power Punks have beaten us!" Divatox ranted. "I might as well be throwing spitballs at them!"...She took her by the hand, yanked her in close, and kissed her. Kimberly responded passionately, thanks in part to Elgar's programming. He had removed any inhibitions Kimberly or Katherine had, making them totally subservient to Divatox's will. Divatox led Kimberly to a long slab, placing the girl upon it. She kissed her long and hard as she moved a gloved hand down her body. Her fingers pinched the nipple of the breast, producing a sigh from Kimberly. Divatox brought her head down to the breasts, licking a nipple. Her tongue elongated, stretching beyond human limits. It encircled one breast, curved around the other, and finally licked the tip of the other nipple.
Retracting her tongue, Divatox crawled up Kimberly's body, using the straps as handholds. After another wet kiss upon her, Divatox turned Kim onto her front. She lay down on the slab and undid a piece of her outfit, exposing her clitoris. Like the hair on her head, it was brown with a streak of purple in it. "Come on and taste me, slave," she said huskily.
Without hesitation, Kimberly moved to the clitoris. She stuck her tongue in and began licking her Mistress' tuft, unheeding of the unusual smell and taste coming from it. Divatox wasn't too worried. Her juices weren't poisonous, and any after-effects could be written off to drugs. She leaned back, her eyes closed behind her mask as Kimberly continued to tongue her. Kimberly's hands moved up Divatox's body, coming to the breasts. She used them as handholds, squeezing them as she continued to lick Divatox. Divatox was quick to unstrap her top, the corset unraveling to let her breasts loose, all the better for Kimberly to hold onto.
Divatox decided to give her slave a sense of what she was giving. She sent out her tongue again, the oversized appendage actually sliding down Kimberly's back, through the crack of her ass and into the clitoris. There, it began to move like a snake in the heat. Kimberly paused in her licking long enough to moan as she felt the pleasure grow in her. She continued to mouth Divatox, her mouth covering the clitoris. Without warning, Divatox's juices sprang into her mouth. Instinctively, Kimberly swallowed them, their incredible nectar producing a rush of adrenaline that pushed her to orgasm on Divatox's tongue.
Withdrawing her tongue, Divatox pushed herself off the limp body below and stepped towards her next victim. As she walked towards the table where Katherine lay, Divatox shrugged off what was left of her armor. Clad only in boots, gloves, and mask, she crawled towards the table where Katherine lay, still bound. Divatox crawled up Katherine's body like a snake, slinking her curves around. She let her tongue drag along the clitoris, eliciting a groan from Katherine. She briefly buried her head in between the nubile breasts, bestowing a kiss on each nipple. She came to Katherine's serene face, kissing it. She then straddled the prone form, her clitoris over Katherine's mouth.
Considering it was the only part of herself Katherine could move, it wasn't surprising that her mouth went to work slurping Divatox's pubic hair. "What's good for one is good for the other," Divatox said as she shot her tongue out again. It slid down Katherine's body, in between her breasts, coming to her blond tuft. As if it had a mind of its own, the tongue streaked around Kat's clitoris, moving from pubic hair to her lips with amazing speed and dexterity. Katherine's moan was muffled somewhat by the pressure placed on her mouth as Divatox shifted around her. Divatox found fruit first, Katherine's sweet taste coming to her tongue. Of course, considering the tongue's length, it took about five seconds after the orgasm for Divatox to taste the juices. Katherine didn't have that problem as her short tongue jabbed into Divatox's clitoris and was answered by the oddly tasting juice.
Divatox pushed herself off the table and extended a finger to Kimberly, who had been watching the entire proceedings, motionless, but with fresh juices flowing in between her legs. Kimberly obediently stepped to the table. "I think it's time you girls really got to know one another," Divatox said. She stepped back and got ready to watch.
Kimberly lay on top of the prone Katherine. She took her friend by the neck and gently kissed her. Katherine responded passionately, her only thought to please her mistress. Kimberly massaged Katherine's breasts with one hand while she brushed out her hair with the other. She kissed each nipple as well as the curves. Then, she turned herself so that she and Katherine were in a 69 position.
As Divatox raised an eyebrow in interest, Kimberly placed a finger in Kat's clitoris, massaging the already red lips. Katherine immediately began another licking fest, eating out the soft brown mound in front of her. Kimberly removed her soaked finger and placed her tongue inside. For a long single minute, the two hypnotized teenagers ate each other out, their tongues working like crazy, moving in and out like there was no tomorrow. Finally, Kimberly came, her juices splashing onto the motionless Kat's face. Kimberly's tongue was soon covered by Kat's cum. As the two remained motionless, Divatox shook her head at what she was sure was going to be an interesting afternoon.
Two hours later, Divatox returned to the bridge. Except for Elgar, the crew was in fear of another outburst. "Um, you Evilness?" Pordo said.
"Yes?" Divatox said in an oddly sweet tone.
"Um, the Rangers have destroyed the monster and rescued the two others from the cave they were in, Divatox," Pordo explained.
Divatox shrugged. "Ah, easy come, easy go."
Rygor and Pordo exchanged a confused look. "Uh, anything else, boss?" Rygor asked.
"Yes, please see if you can dig up the whereabouts of any other former female Rangers, will you?"
Rygor stared at her. "Please?"
Divatox looked at him. "I'm sorry, but yes, that's what I want."
"I'm sorry?" Pordo said. "You said 'please' *and* 'I'm sorry' in two consecutive sentences?"
"Pordo, I don't feel real good, I'm headed down to sickbay," Rygor said.
"Hold on, I'll join you." As Pordo and Rygor left, Elgar quickly began the search for what his aunt wanted. "So, they don't remember a thing?" he said.
Divatox laughed. "As far as they know, you teleported them right to a cave. They have no idea they were only in there for ten minutes."
"Happy birthday, Auntie."
"Thank you, Elgar. Now get searching before my good mood wears off." She took a deep breath and sighed. "God, I love being a bad guy." And let out a long, deep laugh. |
15,473 | Catalyst | "You want to, don't you?"
I could tell she did. I'm fluent in body language. As she stood there talking, her bent knee tended toward the desired object. She kept fluffing her hair - an unconscious gesture, but one that emphasized her desire. (The flop of blonde curls; the shoulder pulled back to thrust the breasts forward; the climax-echoing tilt of the chin). All the malleable bits of her body were pointing the right way.
It had been a very average party, and I had wandered amongst it for a good hour before I happened upon her. She was, oh, nineteen perhaps. Blonde, slim - I don't care much for such tangible details. What interested me was her sublimated desire. She may as well have been waving a placard reading "I WANT THAT MAN." But she didn't know what to do with it. She suffered - so many do - from First Move Syndrome.
I defy any of us to deny that we've experienced it. It involves an internal monologue along the following lines:
"Is he looking at me? I think he's looking at me. He thinks my teeth are crooked. He thinks my jeans make me look fat. They are, they do. Will he ask me to dance? He could ask me to dance. Be real, why would he ask me to dance? Look at the competition. Suzy-Anne with her tits and curls. Rachel with her pussy-pelmet skirt and spoil-my-lipstick pout. I'll have to get there first. I'll have to walk across, slaloming through these dancing bodies, and ask him to dance. I must. Here I go. Here I go... Oh, God, I can't go..."
I could read all that in the set of her feet, in the angle of her torso, in the strobe flicker of her eyes. So I talked to her.
Small talk. It's a necessary evil for one of my particular kink. She's a freshman - oh, really. She's taking biology and genetics. Uh-huh. And me? Oh, I'm a post-graduate. Sociology, psychology. Wow - so you know what I'm thinking, right?
They all say that. And I do.
Here's what she's thinking. She's thinking, "Will it be tonight? Will I finally shake off the hometown girl I am? Will I - oh heavens, I can hardly think it - get a man to put his thing in me?"
Well, yeah - if I have anything to do with it, the thing is going in - no problem.
The object of her desire, I should tell you, is not bad at all. Muscular. Gristly, even. Perhaps a little overconfident, cocky. As they say in the Thames Estuary vernacular, 'well hard'.
Frankly, I'm a little obsessed myself.
So - here's the challenge. Here - if we are honest - is my kink. How do I persuade her to accept the desired object? And, indeed, how do I inveigle the desired object within the object I desire?
And how do I get to see it?
Cunts is what it comes down to. Forgive me the grammar, but it's a collective noun for me. There's something about the unfolding, stop-frame beauty of a cunt that fascinates me. They uncurl like a well-constructed plot, like a perfect animation. Yeah - that's it. What they do looks like a computer program, something that's never so perfectly glistening, symmetrical, subtly shaded in the real world. Except that this *is* the real world and that's - Jesus, think about it - that's what they're *really* like. This freshman's cunt - Janine's - is going to look like Disney on E. I know it is. It's going to be the pinkest, gashest, splittest, ripest... Wait. Wait a minute. I'm losing the story. Let's recap.
I'm talking to this pale virgin Janine and I can see she's unconvincingly eyeing up some standard-issue hunk across the room. Hang on - you didn't think it was *me*, did you? Christ, no. She'd never go for *me*. No - she's after the unimaginative Grease-extra with the ecologically-disastrous quiff. It's a James-Dean thing. Pale virgins from the boondocks are always crazy for that oily, dumb garbage.
"Hey," I tell her, "see that guy? He's cute."
You can practically hear the squelch as she turns to look - like she wasn't looking sidelong already. "Yuh," she admits. "He's okay."
We'll cut it short. I tell her that I know him - this is a lie - and that I'll introduce them. I go over and talk to him, and bring him over. They're tentative. I mean, they're obviously both thinking the same thing - When? How soon? Where? - but they're kids, and they have absolutely no clue. This is as expected. I invite them both back to my place for a drink.
They're both impressed by my apartment, and so they should be at a grand a month. I ply them with Chablis - this is so easy it's ridiculous - and then I get a headache. Would they mind if I went to bed? They can watch TV, use the stereo, whatever. It's too late for them to go back to the dorms, so - do I mind if they stay over? Hell, no. One of them can sleep in the spare room and the other can sleep on the couch.
I retire to my room and wait about twenty minutes. Then I get out of bed - naked of course - and flick the switch. Four cameras - tiny and variously concealed - zip the monitors to life.
He has one hand inside her blouse. She's rubbing the front of his jeans. Jesus - she's moving faster than I'd estimated, the slut. She unzips him and, with a fetching unaccustomedness, pulls his cock out. I can really pick 'em - she's a natural. Slow strokes - not too frantic, not too gripped. Just sliding the skin along the hardness beneath. He's panting like a dachshund in a heatwave and for a horrible moment I think he's going to lose it. But no - he pulls her hand away and pushes her back on my PVC couch. He unpops the buttons on her 501's and peels them down. She's balanced on her heels and neck, wiggling out of that denim. Her panties are blue - sky-blue with (oh, yes) a sea-blue smear at the crotch. He runs his tongue along the damp patch, and hooks his teeth on the waistband, on the elastic, pulling it forward. He's teasing her. Teasing me.
Then, he pulls them down. I reach for myself, ready - but his shoulder obscures the view I need from the camera in the house-plant. I can see her knees, wide, dimpled, and the back of his Rebel-cut head. But he's in the way. I can't see the split. The righteous, rosy, ready split - and that's what I want. He can fuck her every which way. He can take her tits or her mouth or her earhole - I don't care. I just need to see that needing gash. I need to see a suppurating pussy waiting for that itch to be eased.
The stupid bastard is licking her thighs now, still with his head in right in front of the camera. He thinks he's so caring, thinks he's juicing her up - but I want to see those pink lips, that bud, that fuzzy hair. Move you, idiot. Act like the dumb man you are. Move up and make her suck your cock, make her slobber on the head of it. Just get out of the fucking way!
Suddenly, he rolls to one side, yanks at his jeans - and there it is. Eyes fixed to the monitor, I pull the focus in with my left hand. Oh Jesus.
Dark blond hair framing the tightest, wettest, openest snatch I've ever caught on vid. It's pulsing like a runner's heart, like a some marine plant feeding. The moisture is like condensation, beaded, glistening, free.
I freeze the frame. I touch my clit. I'm home. |
14,460 | The Interview (ch 4) end | "Put it through," Jennifer answered the operator.
*click*
"I am Mistress Jennifer," she began, assuming a firm, strong voice. "I believe you asked for permission to speak to me?"
"Yes, Mistress Jennifer." He sounded young, possibly in his late 20s or early 30s. Older than her but young by her standards, however there was no need for him to know that.
"Well?" she demanded, "What is it that you want?"
"Please Mistress," he pleaded, "I wish only to serve you. To fulfill your desires. To worship you as my Mistress, if you will allow this worthless slave."
"And get something out of it for yourself in return," she stated shrewdly. 'Humiliation' -- she made a mental note to herself.
"Are you already hard?" she asked, still keeping her tone sharp and demanding.
"Yes, My Lady," he whispered, as if fearing yet craving her wrath.
"And were you given permission?" she asked, knowing full well it was a rhetorical question.
"No," his voice barely audible.
"No, Mistress!" she sharply corrected him.
"No, Mistress."
"Where are your hands?" she requested.
"One is holding the receiver, and the other is on my thigh, Mistress."
"Good." Careful not to give him too much praise, she continued, "I want you to put one hand on your penis. Begin stroking it slowly. But you are NOT to cum. If you feel that you need to cum, tell me, and I will decide when you will be given permission. Understand?"
"Yes...Mistress," he answered, a slight hesitation in his voice.
"Yes Slave?" she prompted, picking up on the hesitation immediately. "What is it?"
"I have ice next to me, My Lady," he volunteered.
"How handy," she purred. "OK Slave, cradle the receiver between your shoulder and neck, so that both of your hands are free. With the one hand, continue stroking yourself. And with the other, I want you to press an ice cube to your balls. And hold it there until I say."
She heard his breathing becoming more ragged, and decided to persist with the ice he had offered.
"Now," she continued, "move the ice cube up to rub your nipples, first one, and then the other. SLOWLY. Then bring it back down to your balls, running all over them."
His gasping was audible now, and she could tell he was getting close to orgasm. "Mistress," he gasped out, "Mistress please, might I be allowed to cum? I'm so close...."
"Not quite yet," she answered. "I want you to switch hands. Use the one that has been holding the ice to stroke yourself, and with the other pinch your nipples. HARD!"
He moaned into the phone, fighting for control.
"You may cum, slave." And with permission given, she heard an immediate groan over the phone line.
"Thank you, Mistress Jennifer," he gasped, still catching his breath.
She put down the receiver. |
14,531 | Mommy Towel | "A girl's first love is her father," the counselor says softly. "She looks up to him, and when her body begins to ripen from a girl into a woman, he is usually the first man she desires," he continues. "You are special fathers and daughters because you have come here to consummate this desire."
We are gathered in the suite of an elegant downtown hotel in the city where we live. My Daddy is here. So are other girls and their daddies. I'd say there are nearly a dozen of us. Some are a little younger than me; others are a little older.
I've looked at them and studied their daddies. A couple of the other fathers are good-looking, but none of them is as handsome as my Daddy. I think he's a hunk, and I really love him.
Waiters have cleared the tables after an elegant dinner in a private dining room. We sit at tables for two with candles and crystal. A harpsichord -- at least that's what I think it's called -- played in the corner, but now everyone is gone except for us girls, our daddies, and the counselor.
Daddy let me drink wine, even though I'm not nearly old enough. On one level, I feel warm and relaxed. But I can also hear my heart pounding like a big bass drum.
You see, this will be my first time. I'm a virgin. Sure, I know about sex. I've even kissed and petted on my dates. It is so exciting when the boys touch my breasts; my nipples get hard and tingly. But I won't let them go any farther.
I've even had an orgasm! Kerry, my best friend, and I fooled around some during a sleepover. She showed me how she fingers herself, and she came! It looked fun, so I tried it, too. Wow! I've done that a lot since then.
The counselor is still talking to us. "Fathers, tonight when you take your daughter back to your room, remember how important this night and this relationship are to her. Make love to her in the truest sense of the word. Help her realize how spiritual and rewarding it is for two people to join their bodies and express themselves sexually.
"Show her the pleasure that a woman can enjoy while giving herself to a man. Teach her about the miracles her body contains and how to bring them forth. Show her the mix of strength and tenderness that women desire in a lover."
The counselor's name is Andy. He's from a secret society that organizes nights like tonight for families that would rather have their daughters' first time occur in a loving environment instead of with a clumsy kid in the backseat of a car. They have mother-son dinners, too; I think my brother did one of those with Mom.
Andy greeted us when we arrived today. We spent the afternoon hanging out by the pool and getting ready for dinner. I enjoyed prancing around in my bikini while Daddy watched. Other girls were there in their bikinis, too. Lots of the daddies had hard-ons pushing at the front of their swimsuits. I had fun!
Mom went shopping with me last weekend for my dinner outfit tonight. I'm wearing a short, straight skirt and a silk blouse. Instead of pantyhose, I'm wearing thigh-high stockings. We got new earrings; my ears have been pierced for a long time.
We chose white silk panties, and Mom persuaded me not to wear a bra. I don't need one much. I'm barely a B-cup, but usually I wear one in public. Not tonight.
Just like Mom suggested, I left my blouse unbuttoned a little lower than I'd wear to school. The tops of my breasts are exposed. But it's for Daddy. I've seen him staring at my breasts during dinner.
Right before we came down to dinner, Daddy gave me a beautiful gold necklace with a small diamond. He put it around my neck, and the diamond rests right at the top of my breasts. I noticed some of the other daddies looking at my diamond during the social hour before dinner. Or do you suppose they were looking at something else?
"Girls, tonight is supposed to be one of the most memorable events of your life. Your daddy is going to love you in the most special way possible.
"If you haven't done this before ... " (gulp; that's me) " ... you might experience some discomfort at the beginning, but this is part of becoming a woman. Your father will take good care of you. Trust him, and let him show how much he loves you.
"And, finally, remember to use your Mommy Towel because it plays an important part in your experience.
"Now it's time. We've had a nice afternoon and a lovely dinner. When we rise in a moment, I want each of you to kiss your daddy or your little girl. And then go upstairs and show each other the special love that a father and daughter have for each other."
We rise from the table, and Daddy steps around to kiss me. He puts his arms around me, and I just melt. Our lips find each other, and I open my mouth for him. Daddy's never kissed me like this. As he pulls me against his body, I feel something hard in the front of his pants. I know what that is.
I nearly faint from the thrill of Daddy's kiss, and it seems like hours before he releases me. Along with the other fathers and daughters, we slowly move toward the elevator. Daddy keeps his arm around my waist. I feel my nipples pushing against the fabric of my blouse.
His hand gently rubs my bottom on the elevator. Everybody else is staring at the dopey numbers above the door, so they don't notice. I can really feel the tension, though. Three other daddies and their daughters are on here with us. We all know what's about to happen.
Daddy and I step off at the 14th floor. Our room overlooks the city and the bay. I stand at the window and look out at the lights. Daddy stands behind me and puts his arms over my shoulders. I lean back against him and feel that hardness again, this time pressing into my back. He caresses my shoulders and arms, and I think about how wonderful he is.
His hands slide lower and cup my breasts. Oh, God! It's like electricity shooting through my body -- or at least from my breasts to my pussy.
My knees are weak. "Daddy, I really don't think I can stand up right now."
"That's fine, angel. Would you like to lie down?"
"Yes."
He leads me to the bed. All the lamps in the room are off, but the lights from the city let us see each other. I notice a soft smile, and it warms my heart. I lie back without a pillow. He removes my shoes.
Daddy reaches out and begins to unbutton my blouse. He pulls it open, and my breasts push up. The nipples are so hard they ache. I can see them sticking out as he puts his big hand on one and strokes it. A finger brushes over the tip, and I shudder. He softly massages my breast as he leans forward to kiss me again.
My mouth opens, and Daddy's warm, wet lips touch mine. His tongue teases me, and the tip enters my mouth. I've done this with my boyfriend. But Daddy does it better, and I push my tongue out to touch his. His hand continues to massage my breast. I would do anything for him right now.
Our mouths part, and he kisses slowly across my cheek to my ear. When he grasps the lobe with his lips, another surge shoots through my body. I've never felt like this before. He licks behind my ear, and then his tongue trails slowly down my neck. While he's been stroking one breast, the other has been ignored. I crave a touch there, and he kisses toward it.
His mouth opens as he lowers his head to my aching tit. My breast disappears into his mouth, and I feel his tongue on my nipple. I lift my chest as if to push my breast into his mouth. Pleasure ripples through my body as Daddy fondles and sucks me. I subconsciously part my legs, though my skirt limits me. If I were alone and feeling this way, I'd be touching myself by now. Instead, I'm letting Daddy have his way with me.
He lifts his head and looks softly into my eyes. "Roll over, angel."
I obey and roll onto my stomach. He pulls my blouse from my arms and rubs my back before sliding his hands toward my waist. His fingers find the zipper of my skirt and ease it open. I feel his hands on the sides of my waist as he pulls the skirt down, and I move to help him. I push my bottom into the air as Daddy slides the skirt off. Lying on my stomach, I can't see his face. I imagine him lusting for my body.
He pulls the skirt over my feet.His hands touch my ankles, pushing my legs apart slightly and then slowly massaging up my calves and thighs. Daddy puts his big, firm hands on my bottom and strokes the cheeks through my silk panties. I realize I'm drenched between my legs. His thumbs are in the vee of my legs, pulling my bottom open gently.
"Let's take these off now," he says, and again I lift my midsection in the air to help him undress me. He slides the panties down my legs, and my bottom is raised and exposed to him. He caresses and strokes it while moving my legs farther apart.
I feel his kisses on the back of my knee, and he moves slowly up my thigh. He licks the crease between my bottom cheek and my thigh and then his tongue moves toward the center. I am nothing but a puddle now. My body trembles with pleasure and anticipation. It feels like juice must be dripping from between my legs.
And then Daddy's tongue reaches deep between my legs, touching my sex lips before tracing a trail over my pussy and into my bottom. He touches everything, even my little asshole. I moan aloud. "Oh, Daddy. Yes, please."
His tongue continues to lick me all over. It feels like it's everywhere at once, and I can't keep myself from moaning some more. I lift my hips to open myself and let him have me better.
His tongue presses between my lips to tickle my clit, it pushes against my sex and it licks all the way back to the top of my cheeks. I groan.
Daddy rolls me over again, and for the first time since I was a very little girl he sees me between my legs. I am proud for him to see that I'm becoming a woman. I have a little tuft of pubic hair, but it's lightly colored and doesn't hide my lips, which are swollen. I open my legs to show him my private place.
He lowers his head and kisses my mound. He gently tugs my pubic hair with his lips, and I giggle. Then I feel his tongue licking my slit, and I melt for the 100th time tonight.
Each time he licks me, his tongue presses in a little farther and goes a little deeper. I feel it on my opening and then, for the first time, it touches my clit. "Oh, yes," I moan. "That feels so good. Do it, Daddy. Do it."
Daddy licks and sucks between my legs as my mind zooms and zips and races and soars and then I begin to get the same feeling as when I stroke myself with my fingers. I am going to cum while Daddy licks me. Oh, yes. "Lick me, Daddy. Keep doing it."
Pressure builds between my legs. My mind spins out of control. And then, like when a fuse has burned to its end and reached the bundle of dynamite, an explosion rips through my body. "I'm cumming, Daddy. Oh my goddddddddddddd......"
My hips jerk, pushing hard against his mouth. Spasms wrack my body. I twist on the bed, but his mouth remains fastened to my sex as his tongue flicks my clit and prolongs my orgasm. I push my pussy against his mouth. As the last burst ripples through me, he slows down and gently lifts his head. We smile at each other. "I love you, Daddy."
"And I love you, too, angel."
I lie on the bed with my legs splayed while Daddy stands. He's still wearing the clothes he wore at dinner, and I watch him undress. He removes his pants, and his dick makes a tent in his underwear. I giggle at him, and he gives me a wink.
Wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, he stands before me and then lowers them while I stare at the biggest, hardest, reddest penis I've ever seen in my life.
Well, actually, I've never seen one hard before. I've seen soft ones on boys -- and even Daddy a long time ago -- and Kerry told me how they get when a guy is excited. But this seems huge!
It bobs as Daddy walks around the foot of the bed and lies on the other side. He leans back on a couple of pillows. "Come over here, angel," he says softly. "Would you like to touch it?"
"Yes; may I?" My voice is so soft I'm not sure he can hear me.
"Put your hand around it. That's it. Now stroke it slowly. Yes, like that. Oh, that feels good."
My hand didn't even half cover it, but I did what he said and stroked the skin up and down.
"That's right, angel. Pump it. This is kind of like what guys do for themselves to have an orgasm. Sometimes it's called milking."
"I like to touch it. It feels hot."
"Would you like to kiss it?"
"Yes."
"Well, I would like for you to."
I lean forward and pucker my lips, placing a big kiss right on the tip of Daddy's penis. A drop of liquid is on the tip, and I lick it from my lips.
"A lot of people call this a cock. Would you like to use that word?"
"Yes, Daddy. May I kiss your cock again?"
He smiles. "Yes, go ahead."
I kiss it even longer this time.
"Would you like to put it in your mouth? That's what women do for their lovers."
"I'll do anything for you."
I open my mouth widely and lower my head. The tip of his cock bumps my tongue as I take Daddy inside.
"Mmmmmm, that feels good, angel. Have you ever done this before?"
I raise my head briefly. "No, I've never even touched one before. But it's neat!"
"I'm glad you think so."
Again I take Daddy's cock into my mouth.
"Suck on it like it's a Popsicle."
I do as he tells me and move my head up and down. I like the feeling of his soft skin sliding over my lips, even though I can't even get half of his length into my mouth. I grasp the base of his cock with my hand.
Daddy puts his hand on my head and touches me gently as I continue to suck. "That feels good, angel. You are very skillful."
I feel proud, even though I can't say anything because my mouth is full.
"Some day you'll do this until an orgasm occurs," he says. "And then you'll get to swallow what comes out. But tonight we have something very special to do, so I think you'd better stop."
Reluctantly, I release his knob from my mouth. It twitches as I stare at it, coated with my saliva.
"Are you ready?" he asks.
"I think so," I reply, sounding more confident than I feel.
"Lie back, then."
He guides me onto my back, and I open my legs for him.
"Don't forget the Mommy Towel," I remind him. He reaches for the small white towel on the bedside table. I lift my bottom from the bed, and he spreads it under me. Daddy kneels between my legs, his cock jutting forward.
"Lift your knees," he says.
I obey. He moves forward and uses his hand to aim his cock. I feel the tip touch the wetness between my legs. I shudder.
With his cock poised at my entrance, he looks into my eyes. "This might hurt a little bit."
"OK; I'm ready." I grit my teeth.
"I love you, angel."
He lies over me, and I feel his cock pushing in. The first touch is electrifying, but then I feel him encountering resistance. A twinge of pain and he pauses. I relax and then he pushes again; the pain returns.
Daddy shifts for a better position, always pressing his cock against my opening. Now I feel him pushing into me harder. I feel like my body is being ripped in two. He grunts and thrusts, penetrating me deeper.
"Oh, Daddy, it hurts," I cry.
He doesn't say anything. I feel his cock moving in farther, and the agony spreads through my groin as Daddy tears my hymen with his manhood. My sex is spread and stretched. He withdraws slightly and pushes in harder.
I scream. Loudly. I can't help it. The hurt is overwhelming as Daddy continues to push inside me.
"Just one more minute, sweetheart. It's almost over," he assures me.
He pulls his hips back and then lunges forward again. I feel like I'm being split open as the entire swollen length of Daddy enters my virgin channel. Pain races through my body, and a teardrop forms in my eye before I feel him relax on top of me.
"It's all the way in, angel," he says in a soothing tone.
He lies still until the pain begins to ease. "It's better now," I whisper.
"That's good," he says as he kisses me on the lips.
He slowly slides nearly all the way out and then pushes in again. It doesn't hurt as much this time. I relax a little.
Another slow thrust in and out feels even better. He moves a little faster. I'm still too tender to truly enjoy it, but I do like the feeling of Daddy on top of me. It's not hurting as badly, and I can tell he feels good. I lift my hips slightly to give him a better angle.
His breathing becomes more rapid, and he moves in and out of me faster. "Yes, Daddy," I gasp.
The seconds and minutes blur together as Daddy does it to me. Realizing the worst of the pain is over, I relish the feeling of him thrusting in me. I squeeze my pussy on his cock, and he moans softly before quickening his pace. I feel so lucky to have Daddy on top of me, being my first.
"I'm going to cum now," he says with a labored voice. I look up to see him gaze into my eyes.
"Do it, Daddy," I urge, not even realizing what it's going to be like. But I can tell that he wants it badly.
He throws his head back and makes one last lunge, burying his cock deeply. Then he groans, and I feel his cock twitching and pulsing inside me. For nearly a minute, Daddy moans and pushes against me. I feel liquid flowing into my pussy. He pushes into me as deeply as he can.
And then he looks down at me with a smile. "Congratulations, angel. You're a woman," he says softly.
I smile back at him. "Thank you, Daddy."
He pulls back, and I feel his cock slide out of me. Then he reaches down and uses the Mommy Towel to wipe my pussy. Dabbing me gently, he cleans between my legs, removing the residue of our event. He carefully folds the towel and puts it on the bedside table.
I've never felt as much love for my Daddy as I feel right now. He made me a woman, and I will remember this night for the rest of my life.
Before we go to sleep, Daddy puts his fingers between my legs and rubs my clit until I cum again while I hold onto his shoulder. Then he closes the curtains, and we fall asleep. I wake up several times during the night and think in amazement about what we did.
Sunlight slips into the room around the edges of the curtains, and I know it is morning. Daddy's still asleep, and I reach my hands under the covers to fondle his soft cock.It stirs in my hand and becomes firmer. I stroke it the way he taught me last night and then peel the covers back. I admire his erection and lean down to kiss it.
"Would you like to do it again?" he asks with a grin on his face.
"Yes," I smile.
This time it doesn't hurt at all. He even lies on his back and lets me get on top so I can control the movement. His eyes light up when I finger my clit while I'm riding his cock.
He cums again, and I cum several more times, too. Then we order breakfast from room service, and by late morning, it's time to pack and go home. We drag ourselves out of bed and put everything in the overnight bag we brought. I carefully put the folded Mommy Towel on top.
I feel like a new person as we drive home. The world seems different... brighter, clearer. My senses are at their peak.
We pull into the driveway, and Mom meets us at the front door. Our smiles tell her that everything went well. She gives me a big hug and Daddy gets a kiss on the lips. "I smell another woman," she teases.
"Yes, I guess so," he laughs.
We go to the living room, and I unzip the overnight bag. I remove the Mommy Towel and slowly unfold it. Dried blood, pussy juice and semen mingle to commemorate the night before.
"Here, Mommy. I brought you the towel."
I see tears in her eyes, and she accepts the towel with one hand while hugging me with the other. She kisses my cheek and says, "I'm so proud of you, angel. I'll save this forever." |
16,355 | Memories of Summer | "Leave the dishes for a few minutes, honey," he said from the kitchen door. He waved a photo envelope at her. "I have something to show you."
"Pictures?" She reached for a towel, drying her hands. "When did you take pictures?"
He only smiled, crooking his finger at her. Puzzled, she followed him to the living room, curling up against him. "Okay, wise guy," she said. "Show your stuff!"
"Ooooh!" He kissed her forehead. "Baby, I'll be happy to show you my stuff. But I think we should look at our pictures first."
"Brat!" She poked him in the side. "Camping pictures!" she cried when he opened the envelope. "I forgot about these!"
"Me too. Remember this?" He pointed at the first photo. It showed her standing in the water, soaking wet, her t-shirt clinging to her body. The hard outlines of her nipples showed clearly, the thin cotton shorts suggesting the shape of her pussy. "This is a wallet photo for me."
"Don't you dare!" She glared at him. "I do remember that. You pushed me in the lake!"
"Well, yeah!" He took the photo, tucking it into his wallet despite her freezing stare. Laughing, they flipped through the rest of the pictures, remembering all the fun they had on that camping trip. "Snuggling in our sleeping bags," she said.
"Sitting by the fire, talking into the night," he whispered.
"Long hikes in the woods. Afternoons fishing."
"And you," he said, pulling her closer, "going skinny dipping!"
It had been their last day at the lake, a delightful summer day. She didn't ever want to leave this beautiful place. It was so quiet, so private. With an impish grin, she'd shed her clothing, slipping beneath the inviting waters as silently as she could.
The cold water was a shock, her nipples peaking, and she gasped, then forced herself to swim out a little farther. She could see him out on the dock, fishing, his back to her. Taking a deep breath, she ducked underwater, swimming towards him.
"Boo!" she cried, splashing up out of the water in front of him. For a brief instant, she thought he would fall into the water, he was so startled. Laughing, she turned and swam away from him, heading for the bobbing raft.
"Oooh! I will get you for that!" he cried. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him stripping his clothes off. The splash a few minutes later let her know he was in the water. His longer arms gave him a more powerful stroke, letting him catch up to her as she reached the raft. "Let me go!" she shrieked.
"Oh no!" He leaned back against the raft, pulling her back against him. His legs wrapped around her waist, his hands massaging the hard nipples, rubbing her breasts, her stomach. "I think we need to get out of this cold water."
Reaching behind her, she wrapped her hand around his soft cock, the warmth of her hand sending a burst of pleasure through him. "Funny, isn't it, how the cold affects me one way, and you another," she said.
"You mean how it makes your nipples hard?" His fingers rubbed the hard nubs. "I never needed cold water to make that happen to you." He began kissing her neck, his tongue leaving trails of warmth across her shoulders. "Don't you think we should get out of this cold water?"
She climbed up onto the raft, and he watched, enjoying the view as her naked body left the water, the way her hard nipples looked so dark against her skin, the curve of her hips, her soft ass. He could feel his cock growing hard almost immediately.
The raft bobbed pleasantly on the water, as his hands began to explore her body once again. Over her breasts, down her stomach. His fingers traced drops of water as they rolled across her skin, leaving fire in her body where he touched.
Her hands caressed his chest, his shoulders, her fingers rubbing the water from his hair. He groaned as she touched his cock again, rubbing the sensitive head with her fingertips, wrapping her hand around it and stroking him slowly. Up and down, the way he liked, the way that drove him crazy.
Precum dribbled down the shaft of her cock, slick under her fingers. Up and down, faster and faster. His breath caught in his throat, his balls tingling. "You'd better stop," he told her, groaning. "I'm going to cum."
She smiled, leaning over his cock, her mouth open wide, waiting, an inch from the swollen head. She continued to stroke him, faster and faster, making him groan. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching her, fascinated by her.
Crying out her name, he came, and he forced himself to keep his eyes open to watch the cum shoot out of his rock-hard cock up into her waiting mouth. He could see his jism splash against her tongue, her lips, watching her swallow quickly. She licked her lips, then licked his cock clean.
"Oh, yes... you skinny dipping." He smiled at the memory. His cock grew hard instantly, pressing the soft fabric of his jogging pants out. "I think you have a problem there," she observed.
He lifted her hand, bringing it down on the tent in his pants. "Think I can get your help with it?"
Without answering, she slid her hand under the waistband, grasping his cock as she had on the raft. Groaning softly, he leaned his head back, enjoying the sensation. "Uh, honey?" he said, after a moment. "Would you... would you do what you did on the raft?"
She smiled softly, then stood, heading towards the bedroom. "Better viewing in the bedroom." She said, motioning for him to follow. "Turn out the lights, honey. The kitchen, too. We're going to be far too busy to finish the dishes tonight." |
14,408 | A Little Encouragement | "Are you sure we should be doing it here?" the nervous young man asked.
"Relax," said the older woman with him. "He won't be back for days."
Jack allowed himself to be pushed against the wall by the taller woman. They were both fairly drunk, and he had to steady her from falling over.
They had met at the boisterous office party. He had only been a few months out of university. Lisa had been a good two decades older than him, but she hadn't lost any of her beauty.
She hoisted one arm around his chest and half-dragged him up the stairs. This woman was strong!
Lisa threw him on the bed and began to pull his clothes off. His head spun from the drink, but he was very turned on by this Amazonian woman.
He tried to rise so he could kiss her again, but she easily held him down until she had finished stripping him.
Then she pulled him to his feet, and they kissed passionately. He couldn't believe his luck - she was so hot!
Their passion was brought to an abrupt halt by a voice from downstairs. "Hi, honey! I'm home!"
The couple looked at each other in horror. Lisa pushed him out of the bedroom. She opened another door and urged him inside. Lisa's husband was already coming up the stairs, so Jack dived in.
The room was in total darkness, and Jack tried to be as quiet as possible. Then he heard a rustling to his left. It dawned on him that he wasn't quite alone.
Without warning, a bedside lamp snapped on. Jack covered his modesty as best he could.
"Oh wow!" said a young woman in shock. She sat up in bed and stared at him.
Jack's gaze involuntarily went to her chest. Her perfectly formed breasts were clearly visible through her thin nightdress.
"Please don't tell anyone I'm here," he begged.
She noticed that his hands were unable to hide his returning erection. She threw off the bedcovers and her nightdress.
Jack stood there unsure of what to do.
She approached slowly, her breathing shallow and fast. Gently, but firmly, she pulled his hands away from his crotch. Never looking away from his face, she grasped his penis.
Jack gasped. He allowed himself to be led to her bed. She kissed him passionately, and he felt himself losing control.
"You're my gift," she whispered in his ear.
He could hold himself back no longer, and he laid her down on the bed. Her hand was still around his cock, and she guided him into her.
She wrapped her legs and drew him deep into her. He felt her nails rake across his back. Jack forgot all else and surrendered to the wonderful sensations he was feeling.
Lisa and her husband listened intently at the door.
"There you are," she said, "I was right. All our daughter needed was some encouragement to cure her shyness with boys." |
16,041 | 21 Bikini Brigade | "Filthy! I'm absolutely filthy!" Matilda swore. They had managed to struggle back onto their raft and, covered with molasses, they had poled it through the darkness, finally bumping against a bank. They weren't sure where they were, and Percy and Paul were struggling to relight the lamp they had been using for illumination. Above them, through the branches of the trees, one could just see a bit of the moon. It was headed west, intent on departing the sky and leaving them to await the morning for light.
"It doesn't taste bad, though, as far as dirt goes," Al said.
"It's not dirt. It's molasses," Polly said. She tried to arrange her hair, but it was hopelessly stuck together.
"Well, they shouldn't leave stuff like this lying around a movie studio, even if it is the back lot," Matilda said. "I've a mind to sue them for this. It's a toxic waste dump, that's what it is!"
"I don't know," Al said. "Don't you think it's more like a natural wetland?"
"It needs to be a parking lot, that's what it needs to be, with a goddamn telephone!" Matilda said.
"I think I see some kind of a castle, through the brush," Wilma offered, pointing into the dark.
"Well, gosh dammit! Walt Disney must be responsible for this mess!" Matilda said. "Good. He has plenty of money!"
"It's the Citadel," Polly said. She looked at Percy and Paul. They managed to get their lantern lit and it glowed, suddenly, lighting up their faces. "You boys are awfully fine navigators, in the dark," she said.
"Thank you, ma'am," Percy said.
"We're black now too, considering we're all covered with molasses," Paul said. |
16,512 | THE UNABRIDGED CATALOGUE OF KISSES | "Soul meets soul on lovers' lips."
(Percy Bysshe Shelley)
Some people like to kiss. Some people think kissing is one of those things you do on the way to other activities. I happen to be someone who feels that kissing can be more intimate than any other type of sexual contact.
Part of my personal fascination with the activity stems from the many years I spent "saving" my virginity. Prolonged episodes of kissing became a substitute for intercourse in many of my relationships. By this, I mean that "sex" as an expression of affection was replaced by kissing. Although this did not result in orgasms for either party (except once for him), it did serve the function of conveying sexual attraction and shared affection.
The term "kiss" is actually one of the least descriptive of the words conveying sexual activities. While there is essentially one unambiguous meaning for most of these phrases, the same word ("kiss") is used for the very different touch of a mother's lips on her infant's forehead, and the open-mouthed deep tonguing between two breathless lovers. Thus, to clarify, the "kisses" discussed here are related to the second type, rather than the first.
A kiss can excite, arouse, and convey affection, love or desire. A kiss can also violate, humiliate, or embarrass. Some kisses give, while others take. Many kisses do both, and do so effectively. Kisses can be distracting or focusing. Sometimes they are even boring.
What constitutes good technique is obviously a matter of personal preference. Certainly some like kisses harder or softer, dryer or wetter, etc. Most of us like different things in differing situations.
My personal feeling is that adaptability is a key element. A kiss is shared, and as such is a thing created by two different minds. Great kisses happen when the two people find common ground somehow. Sometimes the starting point is so far apart that there is no hope of meeting. On better occasions compatibility is immediately evident.
Many have implied that a great kiss is a moment of chronologic stillness. "Time stood still." Indeed, the feeling that you are both very clearly in the present is often quite exciting. In my experience, men who concentrate on their kisses and consciously think about the action leave the best impressions. Confidence (but not arrogance) combines with assertiveness (but not aggressiveness) to convey strong emotions most effectively.
I actually still know the name of every man that has ever touched his lips to mine. Although there were not very many, I kept the names in a journal throughout my teen years, with occasional notes and comments about them. Over the years I discovered that I was mentally rating each one. Both technical and non-technical aspects were considered, and the general categories that I mentally considered were the following:
1. Romance
Was it romantic if the occasion warranted romance?
2. Technical merit
According to my own preferences, meaning good lip contact, slight suction, and the right amount of tongue at the proper moment.
3. Lust-invoking
Did it leave me wanting more?
4. Creative/artistic
Did he do anything *different*?
Just for entertainment one day when I was bored, I actually made a chart of these elements and rated the men I had kissed (because I'm very analytical by nature, and, as I said, I was bored). I was rather surprised at the results, and it's an exercise to consider one day when feeling introspective. Pedantic? Yes, but illuminating.
The following list was compiled from both journal entries and memories. (Consistent with the above "definition" of the kisses discussed here, no one appears below unless the lip contact lasted for at least a few seconds.)
Josh
I was 13 when I got my first kiss. Josh and I were outside with my best friend and her then-boyfriend, Jason (who was a good friend of Josh's). They left to go inside, but Josh grabbed my arm and suggested that we "look at the stars" for another minute. I stayed, hoping he was planning to kiss me.
When he turned and stared into my eyes, my heart was about to pound out of my chest. I was hardly even disappointed when the kiss was too wet and far too aggressive. Although he had later opportunities to improve my impression of his technique, he never did very much kiss any better than that first night in the moonlight next to my best friend's swimming pool.
Josh's specialty -- the "no warm up" french kiss, normally suitable only in long-term relationships and definitely not appropriate for a first kiss.
Luke
I kissed Luke at a party one night, and immediately knew that I had experienced the worst kiss I would ever know. Yuck! WAY too wet, too much tongue, no creativity whatsoever. Gross. For his sake, I hope he eventually improved!
Luke's specialty -- the "dead fish" kiss, which I've been trying to forget ever since.
Jason
This is the same Jason that my friend was dating when I kissed Josh. Jason was gorgeous, so I was willing to overlook the fact that he probably didn't really like me as much as I liked him. I was easily lured with the line, "can I see your bedroom?".
His kiss and touch were a little like him -- very self-centered. Technically OK, but it's hard for me to judge because we only kissed for a few minutes on that one occasion.
Jason's specialty -- the "kiss and run" technique, which has little more to recommend it than Luke's "dead fish" kiss.
Erik
Erik deserves some discussion, since he held the title of "best kisser" for quite some time before he was dethroned by another. Our first kiss was also at a party. I brought him with me as a friend. A while after we arrived, another guy whom I had been interested in but "rejected" by arrived at the party. I asked Erik to please pretend that we were romantically involved. As a favor to me, he began to dance with me and hold my hand.
This led to more serious "pretending" and eventually some very real kissing. My head was spinning that night from the sensual pleasures, and I can still almost feel the movements of his mouth against mine. Erik kissed great. He and I also kissed on many other occasions, and he still remains one of the best in my mind for both technical and creative reasons.
Erik's specialty -- the "tongue tease", also known as "slipping him/her the tongue", which can be extremely exciting when done properly.
Ben
My first kiss with Ben was both romantic and exciting. We had a short weekend kissing "fling" that was sweet and intense. It included some great passionate embraces in an elevator on the way to the 10th floor of the building we were working in.
I ran into Ben several years later at a drugstore where he was then working part-time. I was checking out with a box of condoms (his checkout line -- oops!). It was very embarrassing for both of us, and the small talk was strained. I suppose he assumed at that point that I was not a virgin any longer...
Ben's specialty -- the "elevator kiss", which is an urgent and rushed passionate embrace, usually in a place where you could get caught at any moment.
Christian
I adored Christian, but even the strong emotional ties I had for him did not make up for his sloppy technique. Christian bluntly told me he was a lousy kisser, and he was right.
Christian was the one man I actively tried to reform, even giving verbal requests on occasion. He took the advice in a good-natured manner, but never really did conform to my own personal tastes.
Christian's specialty -- the "steamroller maneuver", which involved rolling around on the bed excessively, and playfully squishing the other person while kissing in various ways.
Tom
Pure unadulterated perfection, every single time. We kissed everywhere and every way, and it was bliss. Tom and I would literally kiss for hours at a time when we were first dating and I was still preserving my virginity.
During that cold fall, we used to make out in the Jacuzzi under clear starry skies. I can still feel the almost painful juncture between the icy air and the hot bubbly water.He would cup his hands and fill them with water, then pour the water on my shoulders to keep them warm. He told me the other day that he still thinks of those days and secretly longs for that kind of raw expression of emotions. From my perspective, his kisses were technically flawless, extremely creative, and often very playful.
Tom's specialty -- "perfect timing", which defies explanation if you have not already experienced it.
Troy and I only kissed a few times, but we shared some memorable moments. Troy's technique was better than average, and he was also rather creative.
One grossly in-your-face macho man maneuver of his has somehow become immortalized in my memory. I cannot explain why this struck me, but it did. He wanted me to tilt my head back, so he twisted his fingers in my hair and actually pulled on it. He seemed quite impassioned at that precise moment, and I was moved by the "rawness" of the gesture. Although this style is not normally my preference, the memory still arouses me.
Troy's specialty -- "the hair trick" and related maneuvers, to position one's partner precisely for ideal angles and superb mouth access.
John was sweet, but his technique was a little immature. John's strength was the intensity and concentration he displayed. Technically not too bad, but he was a creative zero. I imagine that he probably improved with age and experience.
John's specialty -- "the mirror trick", which is the fun (or irritating) practice of imitating your partner's movements.
Mark and I were truly in love. We were together for over two years. He was the first man I had sex with. We shared some wonderful times. However, I really didn't like the way he kissed. Mostly, I just ignored this fact because (as I said) I loved him.
Mark's specialty -- "the unmemorable kiss", which unfortunately is self-explanatory.
Ingmar was Mark's best friend. After Mark and I broke up, Ingmar and I spent a lot of time together, just as friends. Late one evening, we crossed the line from friends to something more. We were sitting together on the couch, watching country music videos. Our hands slowly inched together, and he began softly caressing my fingers.
We shared a slow, close dance, and one lovely string of good night kisses that lasted for several minutes. He told me it had been at least a year since he had last kissed anyone, but his skills didn't seem to be suffering from lack of recent use. It was gentle, loving, and surprisingly arousing. Those few kisses had quite an impact on me, as I have dreamed about kissing him several times since then.
Ingmar's specialty -- "good manners", where you verbally request the kiss before actually performing it.
Brian was experienced, and it showed. He had soft lips, a daring tongue, and his mannerisms were delightfully sexy. Brian was skillful and creative, in kissing and other related activities.
Brian's specialty -- the "lip suck", which involves taking your partner's lower lip between your own two lips, and sucking on it while running your tongue back and forth across it.
Matt was too eager. He used too much pressure and did not leave enough air space. My lips felt bruised every time I could get them away from him. He was fun to be with, though -- always cheerful and optimistic.
Matt's specialty -- "the crushing kiss", which can be nice on occasion in the correct context, but is not recommended as a regular activity.
Who can be objective about the current object of one's affection? Derrick was the first man to ever kiss me in a public place. In fact, our first kiss (during our first evening date) was across a small table in a very crowded room at a local comedy club.
He later confided that he had actually wanted to kiss me after our first lunch together. That really would have surprised me because we said our good-byes that afternoon in front of the library where we both worked, and many people we worked with would have seen us. Occasionally being kissed in public is a special treat because it proves that the person you are with wants others to know that he or she cares about you. It is a possessive gesture, and sometimes we all want to be possessed.
Derrick's specialty -- "she's mine", as described above. |
16,514 | Taria: Computer Flirt #2/2 | "The kitchen?" Alicia cried out in disbelief. "She wants you to go to the kitchen?!? NOW???" Diana couldn't help herself -- she laughed out loud. Then she reached forward and patted her frustrated companion on the cheek. "It's OK, sweetie," she said. "I know what she's after, and I can almost guarantee that you're going to enjoy this." Then she jumped up and took off for the kitchen, leaving Alicia alone in front of the computer.
DiAli: Well, I hope you're satisfied.
KimQ: LOL...well, yes, actually. You gave me an A+ orgasm.
DiAli: So...what's the deal with this kitchen business?!?!?
KimQ: ::mysterious evil grin::
DiAli: At least tell me why she has to bring *2* surprises.
KimQ: :( Don't you still love me, Ali?
DiAli: ::grumpy:: Not sure.
KimQ: Well, then. Will you at least do me one more favor?
KimQ: Before I sign off to have a good cry :(((
DiAli: LOL...alright, already, alright.
DiAli: What is your bidding, mistress Kim?
KimQ: :-))))
KimQ: Okay, then...get out of the chair & stand up.
Alicia got out of the chair, shook her dangling brassiere off her shoulders, and stretched full out. She leaned forward to type on the keyboard.
DiAli: Okay, I'm up now, what?
KimQ: Well, first of all, how are you standing?
DiAli: ?? I don't know, I'm just standing, I guess.
KimQ: Why don't you try standing sexy :)
DiAli: <g> Okay, I'm game.
KimQ: Step back a little from the keyboard.
KimQ: Spread your legs as wide as you can.
KimQ: Then bend over so you can keep typing.
DiAli: Okay...but you know this is a perfect position for somebody to...
Alicia shrieked and jumped as she felt something ice-cold poke her from behind. "YIIIIIII!" she yelled, and then she heard a low chuckle behind her. She heard Diana say "Oh, I'm so sorry...I just couldn't resist..." She was about to turn around and give her friend a piece of her mind when more words appeared on the monitor before her eyes.
KimQ: Ali? Oh, I bet Di just got back.
DiAli: SHE GOOSED ME!! And it's something COLD!!!
KimQ: Hehehe I wish I could've seen your face.
DiAli: Lol Di says you should try the view from her angle.
KimQ: Okay, Alicia...would you like to cum now?
DiAli: I guess so, if I must.
KimQ: Well, if you'd rather not...
DiAli: No, that's okay.
KimQ: I could always sign off...it's been over 1 hr anyway.
DiAli: Nonono.
KimQ: You sure?
DiAli: Yes, please make me cum, pleasepleasepleeeease.
KimQ: Wellllll...
DiAli: Please, mistress Kim, I want to cum.
DiAli: Di says I've been so good I deserve it. PLEASE.
KimQ: LOLOL Okay, Ali...tell Di she can have her way with u.
KimQ: ALL the way...but you have to tell me what's happening.
KimQ: Now reassume the position.
DiAli: Okay, I'm "standing sexy", my legs are spread.
DiAli: I'm bending waaay over, my tits hanging down.
DiAli: I can't see what Di is doing down there OOHHHHH.
KimQ: What?
DiAli: Oh, she must be sitting up on the floor beneath me.
DiAli: I feel her spreading my pussy lips apart.
DiAli: Oh, wow, she's using her mouth.
DiAli: Her tongue is going up my pussy.
DiAli: Oh my, she found my clit again.
DiAli: Oh, yes, she's licking nice and hard now.
DiAli: Umm, that's her finger entering me, I think.
DiAli: Oh, that feels good, big circles inside.
DiAli: Oh yes, she's still licking my button too.
KimQ: Mmmm...feel her eating you out...u moving yr hips.
DiAli: Yessss, back and forth, oh this is sooo good.
DiAli: Oh, I'm sooo wet now, wait, her fingers are stopping.
DiAli: She's not licking so hard either, what's she doing?
DiAli: I feel wetter than before--what's that?
DiAli: COLDCOLDCOLD, what the hell?
KimQ: HEHEHE, cucumber? Eggplant?
DiAli: YIPE, Di says zucchini, JESUS THAT'S COLD.
DiAli: Umm, she's pushing it in.
DiAli: Oh, musta used K-Y or something, so smooth.
DiAli: OHHH, deeper...it's so cold and I'm so hot...oh baby.
DiAli: Oh, holy smokes, that's incredible.
From between Alicia's legs, Diana chuckled. "So you like that?" she queried, as she moved the slim green zucchini in and out of Alicia's pussy in long, slow strokes. Alicia moaned in assent and rocked her hips in rhythm with Diana's motion. Diana reached up and caressed Alicia's hanging breasts, then stretched to take one in her mouth and suckle at the nipple.
"Oh, this is AMAZING," Alicia gasped as she struggled to maintain enough concentration to type to Kim. "It gets better," said Diana. Holding the zucchini in Alicia's pussy with one hand, Diana scrunched down and scooted between Alicia's widespread legs. She emerged behind the moaning girl and without letting go of the zucchini managed to lurch to a standing position behind her.
"Now," she whispered, "I'm gonna fuck you from behind until you cum...do you want me to do that?" "Oh, please...yes," Alicia groaned. "I wanna cum so much...please make me cum..." She bent over as far as she could, leaning on the computer desk as Diana turned the phallic vegetable round and round inside her pussy. Then Diana lightly trailed her other hand down Alicia's uncovered back, starting between her shoulder blades and continuing down her spine. Alicia shivered, and tried to focus enough to tell Kim what was occurring.
KimQ: So Ali--how's it going?
DiAli: Oh, Kim...she's behind me now.
DiAli: Fucking me in & out, in & out.
DiAli: And her other hand rubbing my back.
DiAli: Now my waist, oh yes, she's rubbing my ass.
DiAli: Mmm, she's spreading my cheeks open and OHHHHHHHH.
DiAli: I think, I think that she's...
DiAli: That's her tongue, I think.
DiAli: Oh, this is awesome, she's fucking me and rimming me.
DiAli: Mmmm, oh, oww, her fingers in me a little.
KimQ: Mmmmm...inside your ass?
DiAli: Yes, she's filling both my holes.
DiAli: Oh, feels good, yes, fuck me, Diana.
DiAli: Ummmm, wait, her fingers leaving.
DiAli: Now something...
DiAli: Something wet.
DiAli: OH COLD, Jesus fuckin' H.
KimQ: Hehehe, SURPRISE #2!!!
DiAli: OW, oh, pushing in.
DiAli: It's long but it's skinny.
DiAli: Oh, deeper, what's it--a carrot?
KimQ: :-) <g> You know your garden vegetables.
DiAli: Oh, Kim, this feels so good, oh, oh, ohhhh.
DiAli: Oh, she's filling me and moving, and oh, oh, oh.
KimQ: Oh, Ali, are you close?
DiAli: Oh, I'm gonna die, this feels, oh, wow.
KimQ: Cum, Ali...let me hear you cum.
DiAli: I can't describe, oh, oh, ohhhhhh.
Diana plunged her tools in and out of Alicia's sopping holes, thrusting deep as Alicia began to buck wildly. Alicia's breath was coming in ragged gasps -- "uh-HUNH, uh-HUNH" -- and her body shook as she rocked with Diana's thrusts. Suddenly her moans turned into screams, and Alicia slammed her hands down wildly on the computer keys.
DiAli: OHCUMING.
DiAli: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
KimQ: OH YES CUM ALI OHBABY IM CUMMING TOO YEEEEESSSSSS.
Alicia's body went rigid as her orgasm hit, the deep dual penetration pushing her over the edge. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHH" she screamed as she exploded into release, her pussy and her ass clenching around the stiff hard objects that filled her. --Squeeze--squeeze--squeeze-- her apertures pulsed, with such force that Diana was amazed that the carrot and zucchini hadn't snapped in two.
Alicia's grunts and sighs subsided and the tensing of her pussy and ass ceased. With great care, Diana pulled the slick vegetables out of her friend's body, sliding them out gradually until they slipped out entirely. Alicia's legs were trembling and her chest was heaving. Diana moved next to her and took the spent girl in her arms. The two women embraced, their warm bodies pressing against each other. "Here...sit down," Diana murmured, and she guided Alicia down to the carpeted floor. As Alicia sank down gratefully onto the rug, Diana hooked the computer chair with her foot and then sat down before the screen.
DiAli: Hi, Kim? It's Diana--Ali's a little wasted right now.
KimQ: Ummmm...me too I'm afterglowing...WOW.
DiAli: You're not kidding! I've never seen her cum so hard.
KimQ: Hehehe, veggies really ARE good for u.
DiAli: Well YOU had a lot to do with it too, Mistress Kim.
KimQ: :))) I can't complain--I came TWICE tonight.
KimQ: Wait--poor Di!!! Only one who didn't!!
DiAli: LOL It's OK...well worth it.
DiAli: In fact, this was worth $19.95 a month!!!
KimQ: Absolutely!!!!!
KimQ: Oh no...is it really past MIDNIGHT?!?!?
DiAli: Uh-huh...12:21 on my computer clock.
KimQ: SHIT, Rob's gonna kill me.
DiAli: Hubby?
KimQ: No...more like my Kept Man...I like 'em tamed.
DiAli: I'll BET!!We'd better let you--HEY!!!
KimQ: Hey what?
DiAli: "Hey" there's someone down there under the desk.
DiAli: And she's moving the chair.
DiAli: Oh...mmmm...what are you doing down there?!?!?
KimQ: LOLOL!!! Looks like you're going to get that cum after all.
DiAli: LOL. Well, I certainly hope so!!!
KimQ: That's my cue to exit then...have fun!!!
DiAli: OK, can't type & cum at the same time anyway.
KimQ: Hehehe...bye!
DiAli: Goodnight, Kim!
Diana turned away from the blinking computer screen and happily hitched one leg over the armrest of her chair. As she reached down to spread her pussy lips wide for Alicia's exploring tongue, Diana sighed blissfully. What a wonderful night! Stabs of pure pleasure coursed through her as Alicia began to work her magic, and Diana felt the quick rising of passion and arousal within her. "We HAVE to do this again sometime," she thought. "I'll email Kim about it...later."
THE END |
16,557 | The Twins: And Mother and Teacher | "Come on, Don, baby... the boys won't see... we'll go into the garage!" Carolyn anxiously tugged on her future husband's sleeve and guided him with determination away from the ranch-style house toward the garage.
"I don't know, Carolyn..." Don Larsen hesitated at the door, looking back toward the house where his two teenage boys could quite easily be watching them. Carolyn was so impatient, he thought to himself, almost too impatient for his tastes, and yet he didn't really want to disappoint her. He was too much in love with the girl for that! Still and all, you'd think she might be able to wait until some decent time. Or at least until after the wedding on the very next day.
"Come on, Don! Don't you want me as much as I want you?"
Don followed his young bride-to-be. She was only twenty-one, almost a teenager herself, and Don considered himself lucky at forty-five to have her.
"All right, Carolyn. Of course I do. You know I do!" He was following her into the back seat of the car where the young blonde girl had already arranged herself in the corner. "It's just that..."
But Carolyn's arm snaked out and upward, catching the older man around the neck and pulling him close to her invitingly reclining body. While her moist tongue thrust impetuously in between his lips, her hands fumbled downward, reaching for his to place them upon the already palpitating mounds of her naked breasts. It was not difficult to reach the smooth silken skin of Carolyn's voluptuous breasts, bare beneath the light summer dress she wore. There they were right inside the low-cut top of her dress, set high and full and tantalizingly firm in their beckoning warmth and softness.
"Oh, God, Carolyn! You're so beautiful... so exciting!"
"And you're wonderful, lover!" Carolyn replied, already giving herself up to the delightful tingling sensation emanating from Don's careful manipulation of her naked breasts. "Oh, that's good! I like it like that!"
How long had it been since Don had felt a woman warm and responsive in his arms? It wasn't the first time he and his bride-to-be had made love. It was perhaps the fourth or fifth time, and yet the widower still felt like a novice after the long years without a wife, and only an occasional relief during that time from the loneliness he usually felt.
And to think that tomorrow all this would be his! Irrevocably his!
"Oh, Carolyn!" he cried. Already his thickening cock was throbbing in lustful anticipation, knowing that Carolyn wore no panties beneath her dress, already feeling her parted thighs rubbing against him, slowly, sensuously. It was hot in the garage and hotter still in the car. June in northern California was usually not this hot, but there'd been a long dry spell and it was almost as if this were Los Angeles, instead of San Rafael.
But the fresh air and the trees, apple and oak and redwoods, fir and elm that surrounded Don Larsen's property all spoke of the particular atmosphere in Marin County where he and his twin sons had been living ever since his wife's death some years before. The house itself was large and sprawling, designed by Don himself, who made his living as an architect of good reputation in the area. There was a great deal of wood in the house and a lot of glass, and it was through the largest pane of glass at the side of the house that the two boys now peered intensely.
"Yep, they went inside!" Bennie said with his usual calm.
"Of course they went inside! I told you they would, didn't I?" Tim was irritable, as he was frequently wont to be.
Two small freckled faces pressed against the pane of glass and two tousled shocks of blond hair could have been seen from the outside, had anyone been watching. The twins looked almost exactly alike, although a few years before neither one of them had liked it very much, now they were beginning to enjoy it thoroughly. Not only were they each other's best friend and confidant, but they were able to derive a great deal of pleasure by mystifying friends and relatives with their uncanny resemblance. At thirteen, Bennie and Tim thought themselves to be at the height of their intelligence, and perhaps they were.
"They're doing it!" announced Tim. "I'm sure of it!" |
17,145 | Lauren Gisal | "Mike," said his father, "we're going to have to get them out of wherever they are. My fear is that if we call the police, they'll burst in and we'll have bigger problems. We're going to need Jim to help us. Although I despise what he's done, I know we're going to need him."
"What about Stefan, could he help us?" he asked.
"Is he in?"
"I'm not sure, I'll take a look."
While Mike visited the neighbor's house, Maurice went upstairs to console Daniele, who lay on her stomach on their big bed, weeping.
"We'll find her, don't worry," he said, resting his hand on her back.
"It's all so dreadful. I know she's in trouble, I can feel it. Maurice, we've got to get to her. What if they are filming it? Eh? I've read about these things. There are some very sick people out there."
"We'll find her. When Andre gets here, we'll set off. I think we'll need the help of Jim."
"But you were so rude to him. I don't know if he'll want to face you, anyway!" she sobbed.
"I was hardly going to congratulate him, was I?" he snarled, his face coloring once again.
"Maurice, I've never told you this, but I lost my virginity at about the same age as Lori."
"What, at thirteen?"
"About that, yes."
"But that doesn't make it right, does it?"
"No, but sometimes, it just happens that way. I'm disappointed, but not really angry. But I am very worried about wherever they've gone. It's very late now, especially for a Sunday."
The kitchen door slammed shut as Mike returned. "Dad, there's nobody there!" he shouted up the stairs.
"OK, can you give Jim a call, tell him I'm sorry but we'd like his help. We can collect him from the station if he wants!"
"What if he won't help?"
"Please, you'll have to convince him. Tell him what we know. Tell him that Lori is in danger and that we're going to go and look for her!" |
17,189 | Pregnant! #1 | "I feel like a beached whale!" she moaned, struggling to get comfortable in the bed. The hard lump in her belly decided to jump around and play, anytime she lay back, interrupting her rest. "I look like a beached whale, too!"
"Nonsense." The man reached over and draped his arm across the disgruntled woman, giving her a sleepy hug. "You've never been more beautiful."
"Oh, bullshit." She grabbed his pillow away from him, stuffing it under her belly as she rolled on her side. For a moment, that was comfortable. "If I'm so beautiful, how come you never look at me anymore?"
"Look at you?" He opened a sleepy eye, peering over at her. "I look at you all the time. Your face is glowing, your hair is so luxurious, and your eyes, oh Honey, your eyes shine. And, of course, I love how pretty your breasts are. All big and swollen." He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. "I have never seen you any lovelier. Being pregnant is a wonderful thing."
"Hmmph!" He knew right away he'd said something wrong.
"Then how come you've not touched me in a month?" she cried. "You don't find me attractive anymore!"
"Oh yes I do!" He squirmed closer, nuzzling her neck. "I was just trying to be considerate. I didn't think you wanted to be touched. I mean, you didn't even want me to rub cocoa butter on your stomach anymore, so I thought...."
"I didn't want you to rub cocoa butter on my stomach, because the smell bothered me," she answered. "I ALWAYS want you to touch me."
Smiling, he rolled back the covers, revealing her swollen body. In one month, their child would be ready to leave, ready to join them in this world. He watched her stomach move as his son (He was just sure it was a son, though he wouldn't love a daughter any less.) kicked and punched his confining home. None of her night clothes fit anymore, so she wore an old flannel shirt of his, buttoned down only three buttons, her belly too big for the shirt to close around it. He reached up to unbutton the shirt, kissing the quivering mound that was her stomach.
The shirt fell away, baring her beautiful breasts. Here again, her pregnancy had only improved on something already wonderful. The softness he loved so was now swollen heavy with milk, the nipples dark and extended, extra large. Long ago, he'd told her he would be the kind of husband who would want to share their child's breakfast... and now he fastened his lips over one of the swollen buds, thrilling at how her body jumped at his touch. His cock was hard as a rock, throbbing, and the dribble of milk that came into his mouth only excited him more.
She was moaning now, her nipples hypersensitive, his sucking nearly sending her over the edge. But then, she had always had very sensitive nipples, and he had always loved playing with them like this. |
17,198 | Deirdre - Run | "What are *you* doing here?" Yes, she was surprised to find me at her doorstep. Joanie, my sister. "I just had to get away." "Well, Mom and Dad are going to *kill* you," she answered, still just standing in the doorway to her apartment, looking at me. "Listen... listen, can I come in?" She stood aside and let me in, then turned around, closing the door, and looked at me. I stood nervously in the middle of her living room. "You don't have to tell them," I added. Yes, they'd definitely be mad knowing I'd skipped out while classes were in session. "Please? I *had* to get away!" She gave a little half laugh and walked away from the door toward the kitchen. She was amused. I knew she wouldn't tell Mom and Dad. I just *knew* it: she'd been through college and probably knew very well how it could get you down. I followed her into the kitchen and sat down. "Need something to drink?" she asked, pulling a carton of milk out of the fridge. I let out my breath when she said that: now I was certain she wouldn't tell. I'd go back--I wasn't dropping out or anything--I just needed a break. I drank some milk. "What *is* it?" she asked. "Nothing! You know, I just had to get away." She didn't respond right away. She was looking at me. Once again I felt nervous: Joanie did that when she was up to something. She wouldn't tell, would she? "You know," she started, "having you here isn't so great: I've got a date tonight." "Oh, don't worry about me," I volunteered. I wondered why she worried about *that*. "Well, it's not so easy having you here." She must have been thinking of bringing the guy here. I could see her point and started trying to think of some solution. I could make myself scarce for a while. Was she planning on having him overnight? She probably had no specific plans, but wasn't likely to be happy having the decision determined beforehand by her brother's presence. "How late do you want me to stay out?" I could make my offer. She didn't answer, but stood up and left. I followed her, done with my milk. She turned around and looked at me again. She makes me so nervous. "You're going to do me a favor," she finally said. I detected a hint of a grin on her face. "What?" "Come here," she added, not enlightening me at all, but leading me into the bedroom. She was in her closet and had a dress in her hand. She held it up in front of me, hanger and all, looking at it. I was confused. "Put it on," she said. "Joanie!" I said. No, I wasn't as alarmed as you might think: in fact, I'd worn Joanie's clothes before: when she was pinning dresses and skirts. Much to my chagrin, she'd discovered I was close to her size when we'd been in high school. I didn't particularly want to go through that again, but she was always both grateful about it and never did anything to embarrass me. "Come on," she said, cajolingly. She smiled. There was no escape: she was letting me stay without telling Mom and Dad. Well, I didn't really have much to do anyway. I started unbuttoning my shirt. "Thanks," she said as she left the room, sounding sincerely grateful. I peeked out of the bedroom in my stocking feet and the dress. I'd have heard if anyone else had come in the apartment, since the bedroom door was open, so I headed for the kitchen where I heard Joanie doing something. She looked up at me and smiled. And she looked me up and down. I didn't feel right about something: she didn't seem to be getting ready for any sewing work. "Looks good," she said, still smiling. I almost said a "b" word. "What do you want?" I managed to say with admirable restraint. "You're going to do me a favor," she said. I was alarmed and didn't answer. I couldn't figure out what she might be thinking, but I knew it was a lot more than I bargained for. "Gerold wants a threesome." "What!?" "He's been hinting. It's best I do something about it or he'll stick with Victoria." "Victoria?" I was confused. "His wife." The guy's married! "Joanie, I'm not into that! There's no way..." "Listen, you don't have to do anything." I eyed her suspiciously. "I'll tell him you're my friend and that you'll watch and that's all." "No way!" I still wasn't sure I understood this, but I wanted no part of it. "Really, I swear! All you have to do is watch! He's been bugging me about whether I was *into women*--I can tell he's thinking *threesome*. I'll tell him you're a friend of mine and that you'll watch us, but nothing more. It won't be precisely what he was hinting at, but I'll bet it'll be much more than he'll ever get out of that *Victoria*." I tried to imagine it, but couldn't. "No: no way!" "Listen, I don't want to have to call Dad." I stared at her. I couldn't believe she'd said that. She looked guilty. "Please, I'm desperate--you don't know what it's like being the *other woman*." "Joanie, this is too much." "Just dress like it, and watch. That's all." "And he's *really* going to think I'm a woman?" "That won't be any trouble: sorry, but it's true; I can get a wig and do your face..." I stared at her. Finally, she went on: "It's that or Dad--sorry, but I've got to do this."I saw desperation in her eyes, though she didn't say a word. Finally, she whispered in my ear, "Do it." I was on my knees. He stood in front of me and unzipped his pants. "Touch her," he told Joanie. There it was, in front of me. Joanie was behind me, her hands all over me. He took my head with his hands and guided it. "She's new to this," he said after a little while, to Joanie. It was so big in my mouth. I *never* thought I'd ever be doing this.
He didn't come. He stopped. Then I was on the bed—he'd put me there. On my hands and knees. Joanie lay under me. She pulled on my head down, kissing me, and I was forced down to my elbows. I felt my dress lifted up over my back and my underpants pulled down. He was going to see.
He laughed. Joanie still kissed me, her arms wrapped around my chest. She pulled me against her, practically lifting herself off the bed. My rear was completely uncovered and he was roaring with laughter. He'd seen and he was laughing. Then suddenly, he was in me to the hilt.
That was months ago: tonight, Joanie and I wait kneeling in her living room. We're both dressed in short nightgowns. Each of us has a leather collar around our neck. My hair is long, like Joanie's. A thin chain dangles between us, linking our collars. We just wait.
Gerold opens the door with his key. As usual, Victoria is with him. This time, they've brought another couple that I've never seen before. The four of them are dressed up—they've obviously just been out to dinner. Joanie and I continue to kneel, making no move. Our hands are folded on top of our heads.
Victoria walks up to Joanie and takes Joanie's chin in her hand. She lifts Joanie's face and looks down at her. I can sense that Joanie's turned on. "Is that the boy?" asks the other woman. Victoria giggles slightly at the question, still looking down at Joanie's face. "Does it matter?" she replies.
Later, the four of them sit around the living room, watching Joanie and me in the middle of the carpet. Victoria and the other woman sit together on the couch, holding hands. Joanie now has a dildo strapped on her. I'm on my hands and knees, and she's in me. I'm very hard. The chain still joins our collars. |
15,804 | My Friends the Allens -- Et Tu | "You know what they're going to do when we get home?" asked Julie, biting delicately into a scallop, her teeth small and white and blunt. On the other side of the booth, Jake and Tanya were staring into each other's eyes again, and the angle of Tanya's arm, as well as the expression on Jake's face, suggested that her hand was in his lap. Of all Jake's lovers, male and female, Tanya seems to turn him on the most.
"They're going to sit on the couch, and kiss. And touch each other. And she'll take him inside her, and they'll make love." Julie gently stroked one hand along the leg of my pants, over the top of my thigh. "And we can sit there and watch, and you can kiss me, and undo my buttons, and then you can make me come. Would you like that?" I put down my fork and drew her to me and kissed her, and her mouth was warm and sweet. Her small perfect breasts pressed against me through the white cotton blouse, and when I stroked her thighs, she parted them slightly and purred into my mouth. Her skin under the short blue skirt was smooth and firm and female. I touched the thin fabric of her panty, tight and moist at her crotch.
"Wait," she whispered, and ran her tongue over my lips.
We told the waiter we'd skip dessert.
"Is that true?" Tanya asked Jake as he drove us home. "Are you going to take me home and fuck me now?" He took one hand from the wheel and put his arm around her, pulling her to him and kissing her long enough that I started to worry about the course of the car.
"Hey," I commented from the back seat, "I hate to nag, but there's a curve coming up." He laughed. "Do you trust me, man?" "I trust you, Jake." He got us home alive.
Tanya's body is young and lush and athletic. Jake's fingers pressed into the full round curves of her breasts as he pushed her back on the couch and kissed her neck. Julie and I relaxed on the cushions; her skirt rode up her thighs. As Jake slipped Tanya's sweater off over her head, I put my arm around Julie and slowly unbuttoned her blouse. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips and smiled.
Tanya naked. Her legs strong and tan, her back long and muscular, her ass tight and lush. At her cunt, thick tightly-curled hair moist and glistening. Her breasts bobbed and quivered as Jake held her and squeezed her and spread her legs apart. She undid his pants, and his cock pushed proudly into the air. Jake is BIG. Tanya's hands caressed his staff, and he kneaded her hips and her ass. I took Julie's breasts gently in my hands and ran my tongue over her nipples. She helped me off with my pants.
Tanya knelt on the couch, straddling Jake and running her hands over his body. She slowly lowered herself toward his cock, her arms around his neck; they kissed hotly and hungrily. From behind, we watched Tanya's ass slowly drop down into Jake's lap, to the tip of his engorged manhood. I pushed Julie's skirt up around her hips, and slid her panties off down her lovely long legs. "Oh," she breathed as I gently stroked her thighs and opened the moist softness of her labia, "oh, I like this. I really like this."
Jake's cock slowly penetrated Tanya, and he kissed her neck and her breasts, raising his hips to push himself deeper into her. She moaned and threw back her head, her long blonde hair trailing down her naked back. Full of his cock, she rose and fell gently, working him deep into her body. Jake's breathing became faster and rougher, and his hands roamed over her hips and waist. I spread Julie's legs far apart, twined my arms around the sweet loaves of her thighs, and buried my face in her pussy. My tongue moved lightly over her clit, my lips caressed her labia, and she moaned, and her hands stroked my head.
As Tanya and Jake fucked more intensely on the couch, I rolled over on my back, and drew Julie on top of me. My tongue moved hungrily over her cunt, her knees by my shoulders, her blue skirt a dark tent over my face. Tanya and Jake came noisily together on the couch as I slid a finger along Julie's thigh and into the opening of her vagina. She sighed, and rocked gently against my mouth and hands. Her pubic hair tickled my face, and the hot softness of her skin surrounded me.
Julie's clitoris pulsed against my tongue, and the walls of her cunt began to grip me in slow gentle waves. She gasped and sighed. My cock waved in the air, and then a hand softly touched it, and hot lips slid down around it. I gasped, picturing Tanya's shiny red mouth engulfing me, and I thrust my tongue deep into Julie's wet vagina. The lips on my cock, strong and knowing and intense, brought me quickly to the edge of orgasm, and as Julie screamed and squeezed my head with her thighs, and her cunt spasmed and sucked at me, I felt hot needles of pleasure begin to course through my body. My hips bucked, thrusting deeper into that hot wet mouth, and the cum gathered at the base of my throbbing staff.
Julie toppled off of me onto the pillows, and as I began to come myself I looked down, to admire Tanya's lips as they moved over my cock. But it wasn't Tanya.
It was Jake.
Shock and a kind of horror battled briefly with pleasure in my mind, but it was no contest. Pleasure won, and as Jake's tongue pressed expertly against my glans and his lips caressed me, I came suddenly and intensely in his mouth, my back arched, my head back, my mind blanked out, full of the scent of Julie's pussy and the feel of Jake's lips. He swallowed and sucked at me, and I came again and again, until I was flaccid and limp.
I took a deep shuddering breath and raised myself up on my elbows. "What the HELL!!?!" I shouted. I knew Jake was bi, and he knew I was curious, but SHIT! I'd never. NEVER! "You fucking -- ! You -- ! What the HELL!!!!"
Tanya lay on the couch, one long leg up on the back, naked and sated and decadent, watching us. Julie looked at me, her pink mouth carefully not grinning. Jake's eyes were deep and complicated; smug, challenging, mocking, but also some kind of open, vulnerable. It was very quiet. I clenched my fist. I mean, what the HELL?
"You know something!?" I growled at him. He just raised his eyebrows. "Hmm?"
This is a guy I'd shared women with, been trashed at handball by, risked my life by letting him drive. And here he was with my cum on his lips.
"You give damn' good head," I said; and I grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him quickly on the mouth. It was scratchy and a little nauseating, but hey! The look on his face was worth it. |
17,228 | New: Roadside | "And that's the ballgame. The Dodgers have moved to within two games of first place as they knock off the..."
Gary clicked off the television and turned his attention to Lisa, who had fallen asleep next to him. The day must have worn her out, he thought, looking at her sweet face, relaxed into slumber. They had been driving for three days, and every night, when they checked into the next roadside motel, she would be asleep long before he was.
On the first night, he cuddled with her, waking her up temporarily. She was very receptive to him that night, almost purring as he caressed her large breasts through the t-shirt. She rolled towards him and resettled in his arms, but she didn't open her eyes or return his touches.
The second night, she didn't even roll over. Something Gary had never learned about his fiancée until this trip from Minnesota to California was that she didn't deal well with road travel. Each morning, she was fresh as a daisy, but by nightfall, she was almost dead.
He smiled as he looked down on her. He felt restless, but he knew Lisa wouldn't respond well if he tried waking her up, assuming he could even rouse her. He never would have guessed she was so fragile just from driving for 12 hours, considering she was such a minx back home.
Home. He thought about the fact that, from now on, home was a new place. The job offer had come out of the blue, and he had to be in Los Angeles in a week. They basically loaded up their lives into the back of a U-Haul and headed out. Now they were only two days from their destination and a new life.
Gary realized he was thinking too much to have a chance at falling asleep for a while. Instead, he buttoned up his shirt, put his shoes back on, and walked out of the room into the parking lot. He had noticed a bar about a block away from the motel. Gary thought he'd walk over there and get a drink, and hopefully he'd be able to relax and get through his frustration.
The sign flashed on and off in glowing red letters: "All-Nude!" Gary questioned whether he should go in, but in this middle-of-nowhere town, he doubted he'd find another bar in walking distance.
He stepped in and was immediately overwhelmed by the thick smoke and blaring music. The assault on his senses left him feeling even more uncomfortable, but he still went all the way to a table and sat down. There weren't too many customers in the place. Gary figured that, since it was only about 11 o'clock, it was too early for the crowds to show. There were a few truckers whose rigs were parked outside, and a couple of other guys, each alone and each nursing a beer.
"Hey there, sweet thing. What can I get you?"
Gary turned to face the voice. He expected the nude waitress, but he definitely didn't expect her to be so beautiful. She was almost... unnatural. Her skin was pale and pure. Her hair was long, dark, and billowed around her face. Her breasts were huge, but they seemed to defy gravity, they were so firm.
But most of all, Gary noticed her eyes. They were bright and piercing. He couldn't look away from her.
"Hmmm... oh, I'll have a beer," he stammered. "Please." She smiled at the "please."
"You got it, babe. Don't go anywhere 'til I get back."
Gary kept staring at her as she turned and walked away. Her hips swayed, and her ass almost hypnotized him.
The waitress seemed to disappear into the smoke, and Gary shook himself out of his reverie. He couldn't believe he was acting like this. He had been with Lisa for nearly four years, and they were getting married in three months. But here he was, staring at a naked waitress and imagining doing things to her that Lisa wouldn't let him try.
"Oh, I'll do that!"
Gary snapped around again. The waitress was back with his beer. She bent over to put the mug on the table, and she was looking right into his eyes.
"I'll do things that you wouldn't believe, and then she'll do them too."
"What are you talking about?" Gary asked.
She smirked at him. "I saw those thoughts. And I liked them."
"You must be joking."
The waitress put her hands on his thighs and practically touched noses with Gary. "I don't joke about life and death, and I don't joke about sex." She arched her eyebrows, dropped her eyes to Gary's crotch, and then back to his eyes. "And I'm offering you all of them." |
16,560 | Anniversary | "Don't move," I say, and she doesn't.
She stops, her glorious back to me, her naked arms stretched out before her, touching the fabric of shirts in the closet. We have just finished making love, long and slow, quietly celebratory. I sit on the futon watching her, taking in her delicious body: her blonde hair flowing over strong and slender shoulders, her back bookended by rows of gentle ribs, the long waist, the gentle slope of her hips, supple and slight cheeks of her ass, her sex still glistening from our lovemaking, strawberry blonde wisps of pubic hair catching the morning light from the window, those muscular thin thighs, the long calves and delicate ankles, the high arches of her feet, the toes that I have kissed and tickled and sucked just fifteen minutes ago. I drink her entire body with lascivious eyes and am still thirsty. Fourteen years and I am still indescribably thirsty for this beautiful woman.
I rise from the futon slowly, deliberately, never taking my eyes from her, and crouch behind her, reaching my tongue out to touch the subtle arcs of flesh descending from her tailbone. She moans with pleasure, places each hand on the closet door, making a cross of her body; she tilts her head back and moans again, drawing me in. I trace the insides of her legs from knee to ankle, and back, then follow the line to her center. She takes a slight step to steady herself, spreading her legs, inviting me. I lean forward until my naked chest rubs against her ass, draw my hands around the front of her body, bring my fingers together in the moist tangle of her pubic hair: so plentiful and so delightful. I kiss the small of her back, run my tongue over the small rise of her arching back.
I press my hands over her stomach, knowing the sensation will please her; I press my chest more firmly into her ass, my own stomach against the backs of her legs. I stretch and trace the front of her body, rib by rib, until I reach her breasts. Gently as a whisper, my fingertips follow the outline of each breast. The November air is chilly -- I can feel the goose flesh -- but she does not move to cover her skin. Her nipples are hard as berries, jutting out hungrily; I pinch them, tug them outward, feel them against the palms of my hands. And it is this finally that sends her over the ledge: her right hand drops to her sex, and within seconds, her fingers are caressing her clitoris. Slowly at first, then steadily, rhythmically, purposefully.
With my hands still cupping her breasts, I lean down slightly, kiss both ass cheeks, then place my tongue against her tailbone, testing. She moans again and arches her back a little more, picks up the pace of her circling fingers, her muscles tensing, focused on release. My tongue follows the curves of her ass, then probes inward, touches her anus. She lets out a groan, letting me know my tongue feels like velvet, inviting me in further. I search liberally, push the tip of my tongue against the aster, taste the delectable mixture of sweat and sex and need; I push into her and hear another groan. Her fingers are moving rapidly now, and I can feel her entire body tightening, preparing for the waves, focused entirely, waiting for the tide of orgasm. And it will arrive quickly, completely without fanfare, simple and intense as our marriage.
When she comes, at last, she is quiet, and her body jerks and twitches. She does not lose her balance, and she catches her breath. I pinch each nipple as the orgasm starts, pull on her breasts gently, and push my tongue into her ass. She clutches me. She lets out a low gasp, opens her mouth, pokes out her own tongue, and with heavy breath, she lets go completely.
Finally, she releases her hand from her vagina and grabs hold of the closet door to regain a steadier balance. When the waves subside, she falls gently backward, pushing our bodies onto the futon. She rests the weight of her body on me, her back on my chest, her hair cascading over my face. I hug her body against me, I want to pull her into me, to swallow her form whole.
And when our smiles turn slowly to laughter, our glee is complete, our happiness total, our celebration just begun. |
16,632 | The Interview | "Very good indeed," the woman repeated, "now let's test how good you are at switching roles. Are you up to one more test?"
Jennifer knew that even the question was part of the interviewee's test, and replied that she would be happy to 'take another call'.
"Jennifer, this is the operator. We have a gentleman on the line who has asked that you not have his name. Will you take the call?"
A challenge, Jennifer thought. "Yes," she answered.
Again, a moment's pause, as if the line was truly being switched. Jennifer lowered her voice a little, trying to make her greeting sound like a purr. "My name is Jennifer," she said to the silent receiver, racking her brain on what to say. "I'm here just for you. Anything you wish. What would you like, honey?"
Silence.
"Well, let me describe what I'm doing right now. I'm laying on my couch, completely naked, running my fingers over my body. My skin feels soft and smooth to my hands, and I like caressing myself."
"My breasts are so sensitive, and just touching them sends shocks of pleasure down my body. I'm licking my finger now, and rubbing it over my nipples. The wetness is making them peak, and they feel so incredibly good."
"Would you like me to bring myself to orgasm? For you? Just for you? I'd _love_ to masturbate for you," she purred. As she expected, she received no answer. Still silence. She continued on.
"Now I have one hand on my breast and I'm rubbing my clit with the other. It feels so good, but I want both my hands in my lower regions. I like to enter myself. First with one finger, then two...oh...yes, it feels so good. My other hand is on my clit...The rubbing feels so good..." She moaned, getting louder between words. "Oh, it feels so good...When I close my eyes I can almost feel you inside of me...Pumping in and out...Like my fingers. You feel so good." Her breath was coming in gasps as she rubbed herself toward orgasm.
"...Oh...I can feel you inside of me...so deep...oh..." she screamed as she went over the edge of orgasm.
Silence. Then "you're hired" the woman on the end of the line broke in. "When can you start? |
17,018 | A hit with the Family | "Shut up, Michelle," yelled a female voice.
"Na na na na na," came the retort, bawled loudly.
Ian sighed. It was going to be one of *those* weekends again, he thought. He often wondered why he came to visit his uncle's house; it certainly wasn't for the peace. In his wisdom, his uncle had married a woman with three daughters from a previous marriage - the eldest (Jo) was now 20 and had more or less moved out, but the other two, 17-year-old Nicola and 12-year-old Michelle, were still here, still fighting each other. When Jo came back to visit, it was not a little like World War III.
He turned up the volume on the TV and tried to concentrate. Above him, the argument still raged.
"Get off that," screamed Nicola.
"It's mine," wailed Michelle.
"No, it's not! Gran gave it to me."
"And you gave it to me!"
"Did not! Now sod off or I'll..."
"You do and I'll tell Mum!"
Ian was not the kind to get involved; he knew better. When he heard the stamping of feet and a door slamming hard, directly over his head, he sighed again and relaxed. That battle was over; for the moment, there was a ceasefire. But how long it would last was anyone's guess.
At length, he heard some footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned and looked at the door, just in time to see Nicola walk in and scream silently. "Problems?" he asked.
Nicola nodded. "Michelle," she said.
"I guessed. I kind of heard it..."
"If only there was something I could do about her." Nicola sat down on an armchair and tried to relax.
"Well," said Ian, "what would you like to do? If you had the chance? Murder is not an option," he added, quickly.
Nicola thought for a moment. "Well, she needs a damn good spanking, but I can't give her one because she'll tell Mum. Her word against mine; who'll they believe?"
"Her word against ours," corrected Ian.
"Hmmm..." Nicola hesitated. "But we really shouldn't do it."
At that moment, Michelle walked in. She strode through the room, sat on a couch, and changed the channel.
"Hey, I was watching that," exclaimed Nicola.
"Yeah, well, I wanna watch this," answered Michelle.
Nicola stood up. "I'm sick of this; you don't run this place. You wouldn't do that if I were Mum, would you?"
"Yeah, well, you're not Mum, so shut up."
Anger flashed across Nicola's eyes. Ian noticed and waited with interest for something to happen. She paused, and then walked over to where Michelle was sitting. She reached out her hand and slapped Michelle on her cheek. Michelle quickly stood up and began to storm towards the door. Nicola followed her and grabbed hold of her before she could escape.
"I've wanted to do this for a long time," said Nicola.
She led Michelle back to the couch and threw her down on it. Ignoring Michelle's pleas, Nicola rolled her over so she was facing downwards. She then sat down on Michelle's back and looked at Ian.
Ian shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not here," he said.
Nicola brought her hand down hard onto Michelle's backside. Michelle yelled aloud in pain and began to cry. Neither Nicola nor Ian took any notice; indeed, Ian turned up the TV volume.
"This (spank) is for (spank) pinching (spank) my tapes (spank) and (spank) wrecking them (spank)."
"Oowowowowoowowoowowowooww," cried Michelle.
"And this (spank) is for (spank) just being (spank) a pain (spank) and annoying (spank) me for (spank) the whole (spank) of the (spank) film (spank) yesterday (spank) (spank) (spank)."
Michelle hollered with pain, but Nicola wasn't listening to her. Suddenly, Ian heard a noise. He jumped up. "Shit, door."
Nicola stopped spanking Michelle just in time to see Jo peer round the door. They both visibly relaxed; Jo was not the kind to tell their parents.
"Hi there," greeted Jo. "Having fun, I see."
"Heelllllllppppppp," bawled Michelle. "Nicola's hurting me."
"Shut up," commanded Nicola, who silenced her with another slap, this one to her legs.
"Can I have a go?" asked Jo.
"Sure," replied Nicola. "The more the merrier."
Jo walked over to where Nicola was sitting. "Hmm," said Jo. "Has Michelle been a naughty girl then?"
"Isn't she always?" replied Nicola.
"Well, I guess it's nothing a good... *spanking* wouldn't solve," smiled Jo. She began slapping Michelle's legs and thighs fiercely. Jo was bigger in stature than Nicola, if a little shorter. Her spanks were sent with much greater force. With Jo slapping her legs and Nicola beating her buttocks, Michelle seemed doomed to her punishment.
Her sisters inflicted her pain and discipline on her for quite a while; it must have been about a quarter of an hour later when Ian spotted a red car pull up outside the front of the house. "They're back," he warned.
The two girls quickly stood away from Michelle, rushed out of their rooms and up the stairs. Michelle, her eyes flooded with tears and her legs littered with bruises, trudged after them. By the time their parents had walked into the house, all three sisters were safely shut in their rooms, listening to music very loudly.
"Any messages?" asked his uncle, peering round the door.
"Nope," replied Ian. "Oh, Jo's back; she got here about, oh, fifteen minutes ago? They're all up in their rooms at the moment."
"Guess you must get quite bored here at times, on your own?"
"Oh, I don't know," smiled Ian. "You'd be surprised sometimes...." |
15,865 | 17 Bikini Brigade part 17 of 22 (NND) dec13 | "Halt the column!" Matilda said to Polly. The old woman called out to the peanuts, and they stopped. On either side of them stood small, colorful houses. Their roofs, made out of tiles shaped like lollipops, glowed brightly in the setting sun. Beyond, to the west, out over a sea glistening like cream, the glow of the aurora borealis could be seen, its colors mingling with the sunset.
A sign stood by the road, which ran between the homes. The sign read, "Lollipop Lane." But that wasn't why Matilda had asked that the column of tumbrils be stopped. She'd had it stopped because there were two peanuts standing by the roadside. They both had their thumbs out, as if hitchhiking. They both wore short pants. One of them wore glasses. Otherwise, the small, one-street town was shuttered up, as if everyone in it had left on a journey and not returned.
"Who are those peanuts?" Matilda asked Polly. They obviously were not with their column, as they were standing, looking rather well-rested, by the roadside. They stood idly, with their thumbs extended, hoping for a ride.
"Good evening, peanuts! Why your absence from Peanut Province? Are you on business of the Sultan?" Peanut Brittle Polly called out to them.
"Yes, ma'am," one of the peanuts, the one with glasses, answered. "I'm Percy, and this is Paul."
"I'm Paul," the other peanut agreed, pointing to himself.
"We've just come from the Citadel, to have a tailor make very important robes for us, so we can attend upon the Sultan," Percy said.
"Oh, is he free again?" Polly asked, smiling.
"Uh, no ma'am," Percy replied, a bit nervously. "But as servants at the Citadel, it's not for us to decide whom to serve, but rather to serve."
"Faithfully and true," Paul added.
"I see," Polly said.
"Peanut Power!" one of the peanuts pulling a tumbril behind the one Matilda was in shouted. But it was a lone voice. It ran down the street and echoed among the homes, and then only the surf could be heard again, rolling into the shore.
"Well, best get in, boys, unless you want to walk home," Polly said. "For ourselves, we're on a mission to find two girls. Perhaps we'll find them before we reach the Citadel, but if not, we'll go all the way there, at least, before turning back. I suppose I must pay my respects to the Sultan, whoever he is. It's not for me to play kingmaker."
Percy and Paul stepped up into the lead tumbril.
"We need robes, ma'am," Percy said to Polly.
"Black robes."
"Oh dear," Polly said.
"Call the wardrobe department," Matilda snapped at the two peanuts who, in her mind, were nothing but midgets; extras holding up her important search for missing children. "We must be moving," she said to Polly. "No time to waste!"
"Government business," Glenda Guilty agreed.
"Yes!" Wilma said.
"Oh, dear," Polly said. She put a hand to her face. "I'm afraid your peanut attire will have to do for now, boys," Polly said to Percy and Paul. Then she turned to the column, but Matilda was already calling out to the peanuts who served as their horses.
"Move along!" Matilda yelled. "Move along, midgets!"
Reluctantly the peanuts began walking again. Then they broke into a trot. The other tumbrils began moving behind them. The column of vehicles rolled through Lollipop Lane and out along the beach by the Sea of Cream. Beyond, an ice cream bar could be seen. It was docked along the shore. Lollipops grew around it. The road ran down to the dock, where the ice cream bar, floating placidly, could be untied from a post and pushed out across an inlet to the sea. Across the waves, the road could be seen once more, where it ran again into groves of wild lollipops. Matilda thought she could make out the tops of ice cream cones far away in the distance, as if there were a huge building there, with ice cream cones for roofs. But the sun was setting fast, and as she watched, the glimmering ice cream roofs disappeared into the blackness of the night sky.
"We'll have to cross part of the Sea of Cream," Polly said to Matilda. The woman nodded.
"Whatever," Matilda said.
"Sure is a big movie set," Al said. "They must have filmed a Shirley Temple film here, and the Titanic too." He gazed out across the cream-colored sea at icebergs that lay far out along the horizon. Night fell, and they could then only be seen intermittently, as the aurora borealis glowed overhead. Its brightest moments made them appear like colored spectres against the sky.
The line of tumbrils rolled down to the shore. Polly ordered the peanuts to pull their lead tumbril out onto the ice cream bar.
"Loose the ropes! Cast away!" Polly yelled to the peanuts. They obeyed, and their ice cream barge was put out to sea. The lead tumbril floated atop it. The other tumbrils waited patiently by the shoreline. They made camp in the sand. They built fires to warm themselves in the cool night wind coming in off the sea.
"Should we make camp on the other shore?" Polly asked Matilda.
"No," Matilda said. "Let's press on through the night. Two girls are in danger!"
"Very well," Polly nodded. She turned to Percy and Paul. "Have the ice cream bar go back for the rest. They can cross one by one. We'll go on. They can catch us as best they're able," Polly said.
"Yes, ma'am," Percy and Paul replied, in unison.
"And you two stay with me," Polly said. "I think you'll make very fine attendants. You're both fine young men. Pity it's the Licorice Lad who's asked you to serve him, though."
"We don't choose the Sultan, ma'am," Paul said.
"Yes, boys, I know," Polly said. She shook her head. "I know. And neither do I."
"Yes, my pretty. You look very nice, with your little bikini dyed black for me," Licorice Lad said to Katie.
"Oh, thank you, Licorice Lad!" Katie gushed. She was dressed in her bikini, but it had been newly washed, by peanuts downstairs in the Citadel's laundry room, and now it was colored black.
"Did you have a nice sleep, downstairs in your new bedroom, in the dungeon?" Licorice Lad grinned to Katie. It was an evil grin.
"Oh, yes master!" Katie said. "A most wonderful nap, and a bubble bath, and the little peanuts made me up to look very pretty!"
"Yes, the Citadel has a fine staff of beauticians," Licorice Lad agreed. He gazed at Katie. She had darkened eyes, and pouty, lavender-colored lips. "Let us go to the royal dining room. We shall have a feast, entirely of candy, and then we shall sit on my throne awhile, hmmm?"
Katie clapped her hands together and glowed at Licorice Lad with loving eyes. "Oh, yes, Licorice Lad!" she agreed. "And can we eat licorice, black licorice, sitting on your throne?"
"Yes," Licorice Lad said. "And our feast shall be all of licorice too. Licorice strands, and twists, and little round gumdrop licorices."
"Oh, goodie!" Katie said. Licorice Lad stepped down from his throne, steadying the big turban on his head as he stepped down. He took Katie's hand. "And then, my sweet, we'll go downstairs to the dungeon, and play all night together in your new bed!" Licorice Lad said.
"Oh, yes," Katie agreed. Impulsively, if just a bit nervously, she gave Licorice Lad a big wet kiss on his cheek.
We rode through the night sky, two witches on a broomstick. Except the broomstick was a lollipop and the sky, behind us, glowed with the colors of the aurora borealis. Below us, groves of lollipops gave way to a stretch of ocean. In the distance, the Citadel of Sweets could be seen. It stood alone out on a promontory, surrounded almost completely by the creamy sea. On the eastern side of it lay the dark pit of Molasses Moor. But we approached from the west, not following the pop rock road now, but flying across the sea."There it is!" I called out to Pauline. I pointed to the ice cream roofs of the huge, towering structure.
"Yes!" Pauline, clasping my back, agreed. "My Daddy lives there," she said.
We flew in towards the castle. I gazed up at the stars. It was a beautiful night. The moon was just rising in the east. It was crescent-shaped, like a boat rising up out of the faraway Veil of Mists, to take Katie and me back home.
I heard a sputtering sound. The lollipop under my legs shuddered, briefly. Then there was a kind of cough from the lollipop, and we suddenly dipped lower in the sky.
"We're losing altitude!" I cried.
"What's happening?" Pauline asked.
"I think we're running out of gas!" I hollered. We flew lower still. We skimmed along the waves. Then, just short of the shoreline, we connected with the water.
"ACKCK!" I heard Pauline cry. I felt cream splash up into my face, and for a moment I feared drowning again. But it wasn't a plunge into the sea, this time. Rather, it was a smooth glide that ended in an awkward crash.
I found myself bobbing in the waves a moment later, Pauline paddling beside me. My lollipop was somewhere under the waves. It was sinking to the bottom, but perhaps I didn't need it anymore. The shore was nearby, a thicket of weeds at the back of the castle.
"Your sister said the lollipop's powers would only last awhile," I gasped to Pauline. "I guess it's run out of whatever was powering it."
I'd already told her about her sister, and what had happened to her. Pauline had sobbed a little, hearing it, but cheered up when I told her that helping her Daddy would almost certainly help her sister as well.
"It's okay. We're here now," Pauline said. "I know a back way into the castle, and we're pretty close to it right now!"
"Good," I said.
We swam ashore. The sea was rough, against the back side of the castle, but we managed to wash up amongst the rocks safely. We got out and made our way up a slope tangled with ground elders, couch grass, and creeping buttercups. A Bosnian pine swayed overhead. We startled a Royal Albatross in its nest, and it flew off.
"The horses must rest for the night, troll!" the driver called out. Tommy stuck his head out the window of the carriage. He fired his gun up over the driver's head. He was drunk from drinking the champagne, but, all the same, he took another swig from the champagne bottle he was holding.
"No resting!" Tommy cried. The carriage lurched forward, spurred by his gun blast. "Forward to the Citadel! I've got the Sultan's carriage, and I'll sit on his throne before the night is through!"
"Damnable troll!" the driver swore, but he said it softly, and spurred the horses with a crack of his whip. The coach rolled under the night sky, through groves of lollipops. |
17,083 | Allysyn One : Your introduction | "Allysyn! Get in here this instant!!"
My Mistress calls! She sounds angry, though. "What transgression could I have possibly committed?" I thought, quickly quashing the question in my mind. A slave's lot is not to question, merely to serve and obey. I quickly turned and went to Mistress, eagerly in fact, even though I knew she was angry. Passing by a hall mirror, I checked my uniform briefly so as to avoid angering Mistress further. The tight French Maid's outfit was all in place: the short, black satin skirt, the black satin chemise with ruffled white lace trim (low cut, to show my lack of cleavage), white lace apron, maid's cap perched on top of my carefully coiffured chestnut brown wig, petticoats to fluff out the skirt, black, seamed fishnet stockings, black patent leather four-and-a-half-inch heels, elbow-length black satin gloves, and to top everything off, a two-inch-wide black leather collar fastened tightly around my neck. "I hope Mistress would be pleased with my outfit and my carefully applied makeup," I thought as I hurried to the Sanctum, Mistress' bedroom.
I entered with my hands held behind my back and my head down as I had been taught, looking at my shoes as Mistress spoke. "Allysyn, what is this spot on my bedspread? Have you been playing with yourself in here, you nasty little thing? You know that you are not allowed to touch yourself or to enter this room without my express permission. And just look at you!" Mistress walked around me, looking at me with disdain as she spoke. "Stocking seams crooked, cap on improperly, clumsy makeup. Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my guests this evening? Goddess only knows what else is wrong with you today. Bend over and hold your ankles. Let me see if you are in uniform correctly."
As I bent over, wondering how the spot had gotten there, I realized that I was in fact out of uniform.
"You bad, bad girl! Did I say that you could put on panties this morning? No, I did not. And where is yesterday's punishment? Did I say that you could remove your butt-plug? No, I did not! You seem to be disobeying orders much more frequently lately. I may have to send you away for more training if this keeps up. For now, you will go to the Punishment Room and assume the Position. You may walk there bent over like that for a start. I will be there later, after you have had time to consider your behaviour. Now get going, you little slut!"
Bent over double is not the most efficient way to walk. I was very slow and bumped into several of Mistress' guests as I made my way to the Punishment Room. This did nothing to improve Mistress' mood. "You stupid wench, you're so clumsy! Hurry up and get to the Room. You'll be getting double the punishment for all this trouble you've caused!"
I entered the Punishment Room and assumed the position. This involved taking off my outer garment, leaving me in a very tight red leather corset with garters, and the fishnet stockings. Placing the panties in my mouth, I knelt opposite the doorway with my knees spread as wide as possible. I was in plain sight of Mistress' guests as they walked past the door and made crude comments about my position, to my utter humiliation. You see, in that position, it was plain to see that, though my garment, hair, and makeup were wonderfully feminine, my erect penis was undeniably male.
(continued in next message...) |
17,110 | In Your Own Sweet Way | "You can do it."
"No, I can't."
Technically, I could; but I really couldn't. I just couldn't say why.
So I knew I was going to, eventually.
"The show must go on," he said, winking.
"That's Broadway. This is movies -- dirty movies."
"Close enough. If King Cock over there..." my producer glanced to where the star, sitting naked, was staring woefully at his limp equipment, "...hadn't crapped out on us, we'd be done by now."
Our cameraperson giggled, "There's really nobody else. C'mon big guy -- *drop 'em*."
Still, I hesitated.
"Listen, Mr. Director, I've got a pile of money in this turkey. We've got lots of them humping -- now we need an insert and a cumshot. Up her ass, squirt her buns, and we're outta here. We'll use his stuff, and cut between your dick and his face. You two have the same build, pretty much -- it'll work."
It was years since I'd been on that side of the lens. And this was *very* different. But explaining why would be worse than actually doing it.
"Oooo... I'm gonna *love* gettin' screwed by you," cooed our starlet, sprawled languid, sweaty and naked across the bed. "You're *famous!*" She rolled onto her tummy and hoisted her bottom high, watching me over her shoulder. Her scent filled the air -- freshly fucked and eager for more. "C'mon baby. Come to mama."
"You're not helping any."
"Is this?" She reached up and fingered her pussy while rolling her hips in slow circles. It wasn't -- and it was. It was complicated. The growing bulge in my jeans was simple, however. Reluctantly, I peeled.
"Knew you would, in the end. Her end." The giggling had stopped, but she smirked behind her viewfinder. "Makeup!" she shouted, now directing. "Need some *lube* here!"
"*I'll* handle that," I said, taking the tube and brushing a hand filled with gel away from my rising erection. Kneeling behind, I looked down into her bright, innocent face. Just days past her eighteenth birthday, this was her very first film. I hadn't wanted to cast her -- because of her inexperience, I said; I'd been overruled because of her freshness and youth.
"You said you've never done anal before."
"Don't worry, buster. *You* get it up, *I'll* get it in." Now *she* was giggling.
"Rolling! *Action!*"
I pushed down, she pushed up, and I slipped very slowly inside. Her eyes and her mouth opened wide.
"*OooooaaaAAAHHH...*"
"Fantastic!" from behind the camera.
"Get her face!"
"Got it -- and her hand." Her knuckles were white, grabbing the sheets. We screwed hard.
"Not so fast -- you look like you're coming!"
"You *were?!?*"
"*You did?!?*"
"*Inside!?!*"
"Tisk tisk -- *very* unprofessional..."
Nobody saw her other hand, the one away from the camera, fingernails digging into my thigh, holding me deep inside.
We walked out together. She leaned close, so nobody could overhear.
"I know that was hard. But I just *loved* it. Really." Then she added, like she does every year, "Gee, Daddy -- that was my best birthday present *ever!*" |
17,459 | 13 Bikini Brigade part 13 of 22 (NND) dec13 | "Where are those damn peanuts?" Licorice Lad asked. He sat alone in his throne room. He adjusted the candied turban sitting atop his head. He gazed from his throne down the long, red-glazed hallway that lay outside the throne room. A tromping was heard.
A peanut appeared. Its hands were bound behind its back.
"Good day to you, great lord Licorice Lad!" the peanut said in a quavering voice. Another peanut appeared behind it.
"A curse upon you!" the peanut said to Licorice Lad.
A whole file of peanuts, one by one, walked up steps from the dungeon and into the throne room.
"Who are you?" Licorice Lad asked the peanuts. They all had their hands tied behind their backs.
A gingerman came tromping up the stairs. "Master, we still cannot find the royal axe," the gingerman said.
"Fie on it!" Licorice Lad said. "Who are these peanuts?"
"The Peanut Power People," the gingerman said. "We have brought them upstairs to be executed."
"Well, it's about time!" Licorice Lad said. "I don't care where they're executed. Just *do* it, you big oaf!"
"There are a lot of people, master," the gingerman said. He turned. More tromping was heard. "Here come the Gingerman Autonomists."
A file of gingermen came into the room. Their hands were tied behind their backs, just like the hands of the peanuts. They were all tied with black licorice. Moving along and behind the column were gingermen guards, loyal to Licorice Lad.
"It is best if you pronounce sentence on them, master," the gingerman said to Licorice Lad. "Then we will kill them. That way, even though we do not have the royal axe, they may be done away with according to royal protocol."
"Alright," Licorice Lad said. "But if we're going to do everything according to protocol," Licorice Lad said, "where are those two peanuts I sent out to have robes made to be my royal attendants? Percy and Paul? Who accompanied them to Peanut Province?"
The gingerman gazed at his fellows.
"Nobody accompanied them, master," the gingerman said. "They're just-- two stupid little peanuts. We paid them no attention."
"What?!" Licorice Lad yelled. "That's a direct contradiction of my orders!" Licorice Lad cried. "My royal orders!"
"But master, they empty our garbage," the gingerman said. It appeared confused.
"They *used* to empty your garbage, you big oaf! Now they're my attendants! My royal attendants!" Licorice Lad yelled. "Off with your heads! Off with all your heads!"
Katie and I came running down the hall. I gazed at the red-glazed walls. But there was no time to admire them. I could see by all the people in the room beyond, with their hands tied behind their backs with black licorice, that our services were needed.
We burst into the room. We began firing at all the gingermen.
"We're the Bikini Brigade!" Katie yelled.
"The Bikini Brigade!" I shouted.
"Eeeyah!" Licorice Lad yelled. Some marshmallow goop, fired at one of the guards, flew past the guard and hit him. I recognized him then, and pointed my gun directly at him and fired at him.
Licorice Lad lifted his arm. The goop from my gun hit it, but appeared to have no effect.
"EEEEEEYAHAHAHA!" Licorice Lad crowed, even as Katie and I managed to knock down more of the gingerman guards with blasts from our guns. I tried firing at Licorice Lad again. But the goo from my gun just hit him and ran down like water.
"Katie! Licorice Lad!" I cried to her. She saw the boy then, and fired at him. She hit him square in the face. He cringed, momentarily. He grabbed at a big candied turban on his head, to keep it from falling. Then he blinked his eyes. He looked no worse than if he'd been hit by water. He grinned at us.
"Yes, girls," Licorice Lad said. "Bambi and Katie. Welcome to Candyland!"
"EEEEeeeek!" Katie screamed, as she realized, shooting him again, that our marshmallow guns had no effect on him.
A glow began to emanate from the turban atop Licorice Lad's head. It was a black glow. I felt myself beginning to feel a fondness for licorice. And for Licorice Lad.
"Nooo," I breathed. I began to walk toward him. I couldn't seem to help myself. My arm, holding my gun, went lax. Katie began to feel it too.
"Oh, I love licorice! Licorice is for me! It's black and it's all gooey And I am very sweet!" Katie murmured.
"No! Katie!" I cried. Suddenly she ran up to Licorice Lad. She leapt up onto his lap, where he was sitting on the great royal throne, studded with all different types of candy. She embraced him. "Ohhh! Licorice Lad! I love you!" Katie cried. She gave the goateed boy a big, warm wet kiss and a hug.
"No!" I said. I tried to draw back. A gingerman rose near me. He had been knocked down by a fellow gingerman, one I'd hit with marshmallow goo, but now he was getting up. I'd missed hitting him and he came at me. "No!" I cried. "Katie!" I yelled, and I fired at the gingerman as he nearly tackled me. I hit him. He lurched backward, covered with marshmallow goo. He fell to the floor.
"Get her, my pretty. She does not love Licorice Lad," the evil boy told Katie. He pointed at me.
"OOOH! How can anyone not love Licorice Lad? He's wonderful! And licorice is a wonderful candy!" Katie cried. "Especially black licorice," Katie added. Sitting in Licorice Lad's lap, she glowered at me. She raised her marshmallow gun and pointed it at me. "It's my favorite candy of all," Katie said.
"No! Katie!" I cried. She fired. I dove away just in time. The blast of marshmallow goo from her gun barely missed me.
I turned. I ran down the hall. Not knowing where to search, we'd parked our lollipops outside the Citadel. I dashed down the red-walled hall. Katie fired at me as I ran.
"Get her!" Licorice Lad screamed to Katie. He shoved her off his lap. She came running after me. I looked back over my shoulder and fired at her. I missed.
Somehow, I made it to the end of the great hall. I ran outside into the courtyard where we'd parked our lollipops. I jumped on mine. I didn't know what to do. The eclair came circling down from a tall tower.
"This is a nice place," the eclair said to me. "I'd never been here before. Did you find the throne room?"
"I found more than that!" I said, kicking my lollipop into gear with my willpower and making it rise. "I found Licorice Lad himself, and now he's got Katie!"
"Huh?" the eclair asked.
Katie came dashing out of the front of the great hall. She saw me rising and fired at me. She nearly hit me. Then she saw the big eclair floating near me. She fired again. She hit him and he fell to the earth with a neighing scream.
"You're bad! You should love Licorice Lad!" Katie told the eclair. It rolled on the ground, covered with marshmallow goo. It tried to fly but could not. Katie leaped on her lollipop. "Come back, you! Or I'll shoot you out of the sky!" Katie yelled at me.
"No! Katie!" I cried. I yanked my lollipop higher. I cleared the roof of the great hall. I rose among the sugar cone towers of the castle.
Katie fired at me. The shot splattered the wall of a sugar cone tower right behind me. I fired back.
"Katie! Please! Don't shoot at me!" I yelled to her.
"We must love Licorice Lad! We must all love Licorice Lad!" Katie hollered. She fired at me again.
I zipped around behind a tower. Katie fired at me as I fled. Then I pulled my lollipop up hard. When it was alongside the tower's roof, a big mound of ice cream topped with a cherry, Katie flew in underneath me. I fired down at her. I hit her! She began to tail down toward the earth. I felt desperately frightened. If she hit the ground she would die!Suddenly, a black glow enveloped her. She righted herself.
She looked up at me.
"Ooooh! You! You will pay for that!" Katie cried. She zoomed her lollipop up toward me. I lost all my reservations and blasted her. It was a direct hit, right in her face. Her lollipop careened off to one side, carrying her with it. She headed toward the ground again. Then she wiped her face with her hand and managed to get the goo off. I gasped. How could she get the marshmallow goo off her without any soda? She laughed.
"I've got the power of Licorice Lad on my side!" Katie said. She pointed the stick of her lollipop up at me and zoomed toward me.
"Oh, Great Sultan!" I cried. "I know you're imprisoned somewhere around here! Help me fight Katie so I can free you from Licorice Lad!"
I felt strange. A white glow enveloped me. And just in time, too, for a blast from Katie's marshmallow gun splattered across my body. I was knocked back against the roof of the tower. I landed in ice cream.
"Aaaack!" I cried. With a wrench I broke free of the ice cream. I fell toward the earth. But where was my lollipop? I spun around in mid-air. To my great surprise, I saw the stem of the lollipop. It was falling down to the earth just as I was. I reached out. I grabbed it. Somehow I managed to yank it under my legs. "Eeeeyeeeek!" I cried, as I pulled the lollipop out of a fall that was, moments before, the doom of us both. I realized I was still clutching my marshmallow gun. Wildly I looked around for Katie. I spotted her, zooming along the side of a tower. She was laughing, not realizing I'd recovered from my fall. I fired at her. I hit her on her legs. She screeched and went into a spin. But then, just as she began to fall toward the earth, she recovered herself. She turned and came at me like a lioness, firing her gun repeatedly.
Our battle lasted for many minutes. I lost all track of time as I zoomed around amidst the towers of the Citadel. I did not know what to do, except to shoot back at Katie. There seemed to be no way to get her to stop firing at me. I realized one of us had to go down and I didn't want to see her killed.
"The sea," I said, gazing to the west. There I could see a foamy, creamy sea. It seemed to have ice cream bars floating in it. "I'll knock her into the sea," I breathed. I wrenched my lollipop toward the west and sent it flying. Katie rushed after me, shooting at me as I fled.
Out over the ocean, I re-engaged her. It was indeed an ocean, made of cream, with a lollipop shoreline. I zoomed over big icebergs. I saw an orange popsicle floating in the cream, and an ice cream sandwich, big as a boat. And I saw, bobbing in the waves, little ice cream cones, topped with sprinkles, that you could hold in your hand.
"Katie, you're going down now," I said to myself. I had to end this battle with her in the sea. Then, with her safe, and hopefully disarmed and off of her lollipop, I could rush back to the castle and do battle with Licorice Lad.
I did a double-barrel loop. It was a neat trick, and I was surprised at my ability to do it. I guessed the white glow enveloping me made it possible. Perhaps the Sultan had come to my aid. Suddenly, as I aimed at Katie, ready to bring her down, she did a double-barrel loop of her own.
"No!" I screamed. The double-barrel put her at my back.
"Die!" I heard, loudly. And close. Too close. Suddenly a blast of marshmallow goo hit me square in the back. It threw me from my lollipop. It made me lose my hold on my gun.
"Noooooo!" I cried. I fell towards the sea. With a splash I hit the waves. I found myself down under the cream; alone, disoriented, and drowning. |
17,491 | Number Four | "Number Four," said my Mistress on the phone. She would phone me during the day and say a number. She had prepared a pile of numbered, sealed envelopes, and they contained instructions for me to prepare for her return. I undressed myself and opened envelope number four. It read:
Place: Mattress on the living room floor, in view of the front door.
Attire: Rubber hood, doggie collar with lock, locked chain to ring in wall. Ankles chained together. Kneeling, hands cuffed behind back and attached to ankles.
No Erection!
I felt very aroused. I fetched the necessary things next to the mattress I had placed at the stipulated place, next to the ring strategically bolted to the wall. I chained my ankles together and attached the chain with a lock to the ring. I then put on the rubber hood, which had holes only at the nostrils. The collar was next, securing the hood in place. My heart started pounding faster as I locked the collar with a padlock, which also held the chain fastening me to the wall, and to which I had no key. I put on one handcuff, pulled the other under the chain fastening my ankles, and clicked it on my wrist. Now I was helpless to wait for my Mistress' return. The only problem with the instructions was the "No Erection!" part...
I don't know how long I waited, kneeling on the mattress, wrists and ankles chained together behind my back, in the black squeeze of the rubber hood. Every time I heard the elevator moving, my cock stiffened.
Suddenly, I realized the front door was being opened. I lowered my head on my knees to appear submissive and to conceal my forbidden erection. I heard somebody walk to me. "Isn't he cute?" my Mistress said. "Oh, my. You really were telling the truth. Is that the way he always waits for you?" asked another woman's voice. "Only when I tell him to," my Mistress said. "Does he really like this?" asked the other woman. "I think so. Take a look." Suddenly, my head was pulled up by the chain. "What do we have here?" my Mistress said. "He must be punished for that!"
"You did win your bet," said the other woman. There were some noises, and a champagne bottle was opened. There were noises of the women undressing. Then they began to make love on the floor in front of me. I heard the buzzing of a vibrator. "Fuck me, please," said the unknown woman, and there were more sounds of lovemaking, and then she sounded like she was coming.
"Now we will do him," my Mistress said. One of them sat in front of me, and the other came behind me. The rubber hood was stretched at the mouth, and a hole was cut there. My head was pulled down, and my hands were pulled around my thighs, so that my ass was sticking up. My lips pressed on the unknown woman's hairless pussy, which I started to lick as well as I could. Something cold and slippery was spread between my buttocks. Then there was the buzzing sound again, and I felt a vibrating dildo push into my ass. My Mistress penetrated me with a rubber dildo, which she had never done before, and my mouth was pressed into the strange pussy. I concentrated on licking, trying to ignore the dildo, until the woman came for a second time. Then my Mistress started to slowly caress my balls and cock, and I started coming, and it seemed to last half an eternity.
I was given some champagne, the women promised each other that this would be repeated, and then the unknown woman left. After she was gone, my Mistress removed the collar and rubber hood. I told her I loved her. |
15,593 | Shish Kebab | "Shish-kebab me," I say. "Skewer me on whatever you can roll out from between your legs. But don't let any of that sand get onto the travelling-rug. There's no knowing *where* it'll end up."
"Get fresh with me," you say. "Thread yourself around me."
"Do me like a dinner," I say. "Let me absorb your heat."
A few minutes ago, without my realizing it, Antony must have turned off the enervating, waywardly written and even more waywardly sung words of a current-affairs presenter and her reporting colleagues (why must audio-journalists nowadays try to make bad song of ordinary prose messages?) and switched on our audio disc of the much more intelligible "Catulli Carmina" sung in Latin, Italian, Middle-High German and ancient Provençal.
As Carl Orff softly beats his lyrical tempo from the streamlined black plastic beachblaster on the folding table, I feel your oily snake prick its way up through my innards, weaving benignly but thrillingly between (not *through*---how careful you are, Antony) my vital organs. Till now, as I've told you several times, I've only imagined your prick going that far. Now it's happening. Double, double toil and trouble. My fire burns, my cauldron bubbles. But the great dramatist never envisaged anything like this scene.
"Oh, my," I gasp, locking my eyes onto yours. "Where will it end? It's in my chest now. I feel so full. So fucking full. So fucking full of Antony."
"And it's going further, Sue, darling," you say. "May it slide into your throat?"
"Yes, please!"
"And then may it enter your mouth---carefully?"
"Oh, yes. But shove it! I don't care for the 'carefully'. Shove it into my mouth. Let me bite the fucker."
"Stuff that 'shove it' idea," you say. "I don't want to fucking hurt you---or me." Your penis creeps gently along my relaxed throat and slowly enters my mouth. Your bloated rubbery glans, tipped with its own tiny dribbling mouth, deforms when it nudges my top incisors, and sprinkles what feels like a few tablespoons of your precome over my bottom lip and my chin. I scoop up some precome, baby-oil from your supernatural spring, and rub it on my cheeks and my ears. Between my fingers it forms webs as glisteningly iridescent as detergent bubbles.
I try to speak, but all I can do is gurgle, because my throat and my mouth are full of Antonycock. We gaze into each other's eyes. I put a finger between my lips and palpate your ruddy rude glans, on the side that's usually the underside but that's now the side touching my top incisors. I then nibble the eaves of your glans, and my incisors nibble the skirt of it. My bottom jaw moves from side to side so that my top incisors tantalise (I hope) the nerve-endings in your exquisite unvandalised frenum---the clit you have when you don't have a clit. That finger, and the gently sharp teeth rasping your cockhead, seem to be the trigger that detonates your cache of white explosive.
"I'm coming!" you say. "Sue, I'm coming! Do you feel it?"
Your fruitjuice fulminates from my mouth (still surprised after all these years) and onto my chin and my neck. The sight of it is the trigger for my own explosion, from my scalp to my toes and back to my scalp and then, erratically, to an archipelago of electric nodes between (I wonder whether an acupuncturist could identify them). I start to shake. My legs clench you and release you, clench you and release you. My hips jerk jerk jerk. Gurgle. Without the benefit of subtitles written across my face I can only wonder whether you're clever enough to interpret the gurgles as: "I'm coming too. Oh God, I'm coming all over. Oh, Christ, why haven't I experienced anything like this before? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, my darling."
But, of course, I have experienced it before. It's just that each time seems better that the previous time.
I shudder and moan and splutter for a minute while you, with an unlikely gymnastic agility, allow your cock to reciprocate through me with a stroke of more than a metre. My mind dances to the shafting friction in my mouth, in my throat, in my chest, in my tummy and in my streaming crotch. With sweating brow you withdraw your cock from me till its tip comes down to my womb, and then you push it all in again. This time about thirty fucking centimetres of the luminous thing (it seems to improve each shining minute) emerges from my mouth. My eyes widen, and with one hand I grab hold of your slippery cock and cuddle it to dissuade the vain and veiny thing from retracting into its me-sized sheath. With my other hand I scoop up some cock-spittle from my neck and rub it over the distal end of your cock and over my oniontower teats and over the rest of my little breasts and around the stretching "Oh!" ring of my lips. ("Oniontower" is your choice of metaphor, bless you. You describe each of my tits as a pair of oniontowers: a smaller one atop a bigger one. Whenever we prepare onions for a meal, or whenever I come across a photo of St Basil's Cathedral, my nipples swell with blood and stand to attention. Because of you.)
I gurgle with another shuddering climax, and I lose control of my bladder. My buttocks and my thighs feel my piss soak into the travelling-rug that separates us from the beach. More of your mayonnaise spills from your glans and drenches my hand. My eyes widen again, and I look into your eyes. I wink at you to tell you that everything's all right. You reach beneath yourself with a hand and collect some of my piss, still gushing from what now seems to have been a pretty full bladder. You rub my piss all over your smiling face, and you put some into your mouth, squish it around and swallow it. For the first time today I drink that surreal sight into my consciousness, and I flood my memory with all the earlier times and my imagination with all the times to come.
"Sue's piss," you say, and the final sibilant of that lovely phrase sprays some drops of me from between your tongue and your front teeth and onto my face. "Sue's fine piss. Fine Sue's piss. Your urine. Your bittersweet urine. Your chablis. I love your piss because it's yours. It's Sue's. You didn't faint, but you did the next best thing---you wetted yourself, you good girl. My darling."
Speechless I touch your lips with my fingers as you utter those wonderful words. I transfer some of my piss to your stiff teats (there's nothing vestigial about your nips, Tony---when they suckle me they take me all the way back to my infancy) and to your wispy armpits and to your tummy and to your hips. I yearn to put some on the ever-suckworthy tiny twitching mouth that you harbour between your bumcheeks, but now I can't quite reach it. I remember the first time you went off to work carrying not only a pastrami-and-tomato-and-cheese (or whatever it was) sandwich and a golden-delicious apple in your briefcase but also a couple of drops of my keepsake piss evaporating like eau de cologne from your cheeks, on your top ones and between your bottom ones.
We stay there, wordlessly stroking each other. Your glans retreats to just outside my lips, and when I kissingly purse my lips around your penis just below your glans my lips read your pulsing veins and arteries as if they're braille. What a message! What a medium! My fingers caress your glans. I still can't speak, but my circular fondling is designed to tell you that everything's still all right. You kiss my lips and your glans at the one time. You jerk some more semen out of your pouting slit and suck it into your mouth. You let the lotion (my usual trusty Ponds can jump in the lake, for the time being) ooze from your mouth onto my cheeks and nose and forehead and lips. I rub it into my smile with my hands. Shish-kebab sauce of the gods.
A few minutes later your penis starts to shrink slowly down through my system. When it retreats from my throat I take three or four deep breaths and say:
"That's enough foreplay, Antony. Don't be shy, dear boy. You can take your frigging finger out of my cunt now. Here, I'll show you what to do next." |
17,379 | 12 Bikini Brigade part 12 of 22 (NND) dec13 | "You're sure this is the best way?" Al asked Matilda. The woman frowned.
"If it wasn't for all those midgets tackling them, they'd have run away again," Matilda said.
"It's only temporary," Glenda said.
"We should be grateful that the midgets have agreed to help us," Wilma said.
"Ohhh, please let us go!" Katie cried. "I don't want to be covered with peanut butter!"
"Just up to your necks, dear. So you won't run away any more," Glenda said. She put a finger up to her throat. "Then we'll load you aboard a tumbril the midgets are building and take you home."
"Don't you think the licorice is enough?" Al asked Matilda.
"Licorice?" Matilda said. "You think tying those girls' hands with licorice is enough? Good heavens, they'll run away in no time. Pour the peanut butter, you midgets! Not too hot! We're not trying to scald the girls, just keep them from running away again."
Glenda Guilty looked over at a tumbril that was being constructed out of licorice and peanut brittle. "You think that thing is sturdy enough to carry the girls back?" she asked.
"God knows, it beats those damn lollipops they were blathering about," Matilda said. She looked past the tumbril at two lollipops floating on the roadway. "How do those two lollipop things stay afloat like that? On the air?"
"Special effects," Al said. He sipped peanut butter tea from a peanut brittle cup as he watched a big vat of hot peanut butter about to be poured into a peanut brittle tub. Katie and I were in the tub.
I pulled at the licorice binding my hands. My arms were tied behind me to a post made of peanut brittle. I couldn't get free. I gazed at the sides of the tub in which we'd been placed. It came up to our necks.
We were surrounded by peanut people. They gazed at us with fascinated eyes. I wished they would take pity on us. But Matilda, the woman from Child Protective Services, had convinced Peanut Brittle Polly that we were runaways who needed protection. We were, after all, humans. And Matilda and her companions were humans. And we were lost. There was no question of that. Of course, when Katie had seen Matilda, she'd gone running right out Peanut Brittle Polly's front door, and I'd followed her. Matilda had called out that we must be captured. And, sure enough, we were, tackled and held by dozens of peanuts, just like Gulliver by the Lilliputians.
"Ohhh, I have to go to the bathroom!" Katie hollered. She watched with big eyes as a vat of peanut butter was tilted by the peanut people. It bumped the side of our tub. Warm peanut butter began flowing into the tub. "Yooch!" Katie said. The peanut butter ran under our feet. Then it rose up over our toes. Then it rose higher still, filling the tub to our ankles.
"Pour!" one of the peanut people called to his fellows. They tilted the vat again. More peanut butter came pouring into the tub. We were prisoners. We wouldn't be doing any running away now, not in a vat filled with peanut butter! When it hardened we'd be like Eskimos frozen in ice. The peanut butter rose up our legs.
"One of the girls has to go to the bathroom!" Al said to Matilda.
"A ruse," Matilda said. "So she can run away again. Really, Al, you're a sucker, you know that?"
"I like suckers," Al said.
"We'll be home in an hour, I'll bet," Wilma said. "Just as soon as we find a telephone."
"There must be one somewhere around here," Glenda agreed. "Who ever heard of building a big movie set and not having any telephones?"
"Oook! We're finished," Katie said to me. A tear ran down her cheek.
"We're captured, that's for sure," I told her.
"By Child Protective Services," Katie said. "Now I won't be able to watch MTV and I won't be able to see Nick anymore or even to live with my mom!"
"And worse," I said. "We're still in Candyland. Who's to say we won't wind up in the clutches of Licorice Lad?"
"Oh, BOO! HOOO! I don't want to be a prisoner of Licorice Lad!" Katie bawled.
"What's she saying now?" Al asked.
"She's crying," Matilda said. "Children are always crying. Pay it no attention, Al. She's just some little girl and, of course, she's crying."
"What's that?" Al asked. He pointed to the sky. A long object was streaking across the fields.
"It looks--" Glenda began.
"It looks like a flying... a flying penis!" Matilda said. They watched as the penis flew lower. It seemed to be holding something in its pee hole.
"It's heading... It's heading directly toward us!" Al cried. He threw himself to the ground. With a cry Matilda and Glenda and Wilma dove for cover as the penis shot across the fields of peanuts and slammed directly into the post where Katie and I were tied.
"EEEEYAH!" Katie cried. She and I were broken loose from the post. It fell and shattered the walls of the tub that held us. The hot peanut butter, up around our legs, oozed out of the smashed tub.
"Here, catch!" I heard, above me. I looked up. I saw a gun falling toward me. It was the same gun that had been used to shoot the eclair and, instinctively, I reached out and grabbed it. One fell toward Katie and she just barely managed to catch it before it fell in the hot peanut butter at our feet. "Use them to free yourselves!" the eclair called to us. It was the same eclair Katie and I had helped earlier in the day. It turned and began spraying the peanut people who surrounded us with cream from its pee hole.
"YAHOOO!" Katie cried. She lifted her gun in the air. "We're the Bikini Brigade!" I figured out which end of my gun was the barrel and clasped the handgrip and trigger at the other end. Peanuts began rushing toward us. We had no time to lose.
"Shoot them!" I yelled to Katie.
"Which way do you point--?" Katie asked. Suddenly a big squirt of marshmallow goo shot out of her gun. It knocked over two peanut people. They screamed. They struggled with a big mass of white goo that now ran over their bodies. They seemed unable to get up.
I fired my gun. I had grave misgivings about shooting people but there seemed no other way. I watched as two peanuts went rolling backwards. They seemed not to be hurt too badly. They were simply stuck. To themselves.
"Yes!" I cried. I shot more peanuts. "Come on, Katie! We've got to get to our lollipops!"
"We're the Bikini Brigade!" Katie cried. "Say it, Bambi! Then they'll think there's more of us!"
"Okay--" I said, firing at more peanuts. "Out of the way, shorties! We're the Bikini Brigade!"
"Bye, bye, peanuts!" Katie cried. She shot three more. It was impossible not to hit them, for there were many of them, and they were crowding forward, trying to capture us. I stepped out over the shattered walls of the tub.
"Which way are our lollipops?" Katie yelled to me.
"This way!" I pointed.
We shot our way through the crowd. We found our lollipops where we'd left them alongside the road. One peanut tried to grab mine, but I shot him. Then Katie and I mounted our lollipops. To the great amazement of the peanuts, we made them dart up into the sky. They had only seen us float down the street on them. Now we were flying, high over the rooftops!
"We're the Bikini Brigade!" Katie gushed to me. She fired more rounds of marshmallow goo down at the crowd of peanuts below us.
"Katie, we're free. Don't keep shooting them," I told her. The eclair broke off from squirting them with his cream. Hovering in the air, he called out to us.
"Come on, girls!" the eclair said. "I can take you to the Citadel!"Under "Quick Search", type in: [email protected]
Press your "return" key.
Other providers:
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or by e-mail: [email protected]
or via the Web: http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/
Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
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Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
END OF STORY EMISSION |
18,809 | Birds Of A Feather | "God, I love your body," Audrey murmured. "I love fucking you."
Beside her, Mala smiled gently, her lovely face suffused with excitement. She moved her head closer to Audrey's and kissed her deeply. Audrey closed her eyes, her body trembling with excitement. Mala's delicate, slender fingers roamed Audrey's naked body, cupping and fondling her swollen breasts, teasing her long, rigid nipples. Audrey drew Mala's tongue into her mouth and sucked it gently as she fondled her breasts, caressed Mala's buttocks and thighs. Nothing gave the kind of contentment lesbian sex did, Audrey thought. Especially when the girl you were fucking was your closest friend.
Mala and she went back a long way, to their college days, when they shared everything two teenage girls could -- and much more besides. They first had lesbian sex on a humid afternoon a few months after they met at Audrey's house, and it became a regular feature of their lives from then on. Except for the brief interlude when Mala married a completely unsuitable man, they never denied themselves this, the most delicate and heightened of sexual pleasures.
They lay naked on Audrey's bed now, surrounded by a mind-boggling assortment of dildoes, vibrators and sexual toys, their bodies glistening with a special skin lotion they had massaged into each other's bodies. It was a powerful sub-cutaneous aphrodisiac. It seeped into their flesh and aroused every fiber and nerve of their bodies. Their cunts were streaming freely, their nipples were stiff and hard, their breasts swollen and turgid and heavy with arousal.
"I've asked some guys to come in later," Mala murmured, kissing Audrey again, flipping her tongue wantonly in and out of her mouth.
"Good," Audrey whispered, her fingers moving to Mala's cunt. "Anyone I know."
"Let that be a surprise."
Audrey's eyes sparkled. "Bitch."
"Horny bitch."
"At least tell me how many."
"No."
"Whore."
"Randy whore."
Mala rolled Audrey over onto her back and straddled her body. Audrey thought her friend was one of the loveliest women she knew. Her face was delicate, yet earthy and utterly sensual. She had large, deep brown, kajal-rimmed eyes that were warm and gentle. Her cheekbones were high, the line of her jaw was exquisite, delicate. Her teeth were strong and white and even. Her upper lip was sexily slender, bowed over the fuller, straighter lower lip. Her hair was dark and silky, pulled back in a simple ponytail held by a dark cotton ring-band. Her neck was a long and elegant column that swept past the sexy hollows in her throat and shoulders to superb breasts, high, succulent, luscious mounds with stiff, stubby nipples in small, bright, densely puckered aureoles.
Mala took good care of her body and it showed. Her belly was firm and flat and her hips flared neatly. Her buttocks were low and firmly rounded. Her arms and legs were slender and shapely with slim ankles and wrists and elegantly formed hands and feet. Her skin was tawny. She had a sexy little birthmark high in her cleavage inside her left breast, another just in front of her left ear. She wore a gold necklace, a diamond ring, matching earrings, a toe-ring. She had an insatiable sexual appetite, one she discovered in her early teens and steadily nurtured ever since.
Mala fucked constantly. Servants, strangers, friends, friends' friends, men, women, urchin, construction gang workers, daily laborers -- Mala fucked them all without respite. She seldom spent twenty-four hours without at least one fuck. Fortunately, her sister and their cousins and niece and most of her friends, including Audrey, shared Mala's devotion to sexual gratification. They exchanged lovers constantly. Like Mala, all the others, and even Audrey, regularly hired themselves out as whores. They were very expensive, but they were exceptionally good. They also made skin flicks and did live sex shows. It was their immense good fortune that they knew Jayant, a truly heroic man, with a brilliant body, an awesome physique and breathtaking intellectual skill. He was their ticket to sexual freedom: he controlled and ran a mammoth international commercial enterprise, Hedon & Venery, devoted entirely to purveying sexual gratification -- and all these women were an intrinsic part of it! |
18,158 | Nancy Gets Back | "Nancy won't be home tonight," said Tina. "She hooked up with some friends at the club, and she'll be going home with them. Since you don't believe you belong to me now, we'll just have to wait until tomorrow. It suits me fine since I'll have plenty of time to figure a way to make you miserable for doubting me. You better get some sleep, slut boy, you're going to need it."
With that, Tina went into Nancy's room and slammed the door. I was left alone in the living room. I suppose I could have left and gone home. I didn't have my keys and would have had to wake the super to let me in. In the clothes I was wearing, I'm sure I would have been the talk of the building for months. In fact, if it got out in my building that I had come home in a dress with cum stains all over it, high-heeled shoes, and whore's makeup, I'd have to move. So I took my chances and stayed. I felt the all too familiar tug of emotions, part of me wanting to escape and the rest of me strangely drawn to my new role of slave.
I found an afghan in the closet and prepared to spend the night on the sofa. I removed my dress, stockings, garter belt, and bra and lay down in my silky panties. I drew the afghan over me and fell asleep almost immediately.
I was jolted from a deep sleep by a sharp smack on my ass. As I struggled to gain my bearings, I gradually recognized Tina standing over me. She wore grey sweat pants cut off just below her shapely ass and a tank top. I could see she wore no bra, and her nipples seemed to be pointing directly at my face. Her face held a mixture of anticipation and amusement. I went cold inside, remembering her promise of the night before to make me suffer for making her wait to punish me. My gaze slid from Tina to find Nancy standing next to her. She too was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt.
I scrambled to my feet, remembering belatedly that I wore only flimsy women's panties. My morning hard-on stretched the material obscenely. Before I could compose myself, Tina started in.
"You wanted to hear it from Nancy, so here's the word."
"I didn't think you'd come back here," said Nancy. "Tina said you liked being my slave. I didn't believe her, so I told her if you came back, she could have you. I think you've learned your lesson, and I'm not really interested in being a domme. But Tina likes playing with you, so it looks like she wins. Have fun, you two, I'm going to the beach."
With that, Nancy picked up a gym bag lying on the floor and was out the door before I knew what hit me. Slowly, my gaze moved from the door and rested on Tina. She stood with her hands on her hips, triumph and wickedness on her face. "So, now you know. You belong to me for as long as I want. It could be the rest of the weekend, or the rest of your life. You fucked up twice, once with Nancy, which got you into this in the first place, and once with me by not believing me when I told you you were mine."
"So let me explain the rules. First..."
Tina went on to explain the terms of my service to her. I heard some of it, but most of it seemed to bounce off my ears as she spoke. I was in shock, and also wondering if I could serve this mistress.
But,.......... that's another story. |
18,545 | And Now The Time Has Come To Say Goodbye To All Our Company ... | "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."
John Lennon
(Beautiful Boy - 1980)
I'm sitting here this morning thinking about how true those words are. If you asked me at the beginning of the year where my life was headed, I would have been able to give you a pretty good guess. Since then, so much has happened that would change that guess. Those of you on my mailing list know about some of those changes. Now I'm going to tell you about one more -- one which makes all the others seem inconsequential.
Last May, my husband put in for a position in his company that would have required us to relocate to the southeastern United States. At the time, we discussed it a great deal and were very disappointed when he didn't get it. Now, through a series of events including the sudden poor health of the gentleman who did get that position, it had been offered to him again.
After more serious discussion, we had decided to accept the fortunes of fate and take the job. So I find myself once again packing my life into assorted luggage and boxes. It was a lot easier when I was 30 (the last time I did it) and my life fit in two suitcases.
As any of you who have moved well know, one of the things you do at a time like this is go through all your stuff and decide what not to take along with you. That is the point of this note.
One of the things I've decided not to take along on this move is Ann Douglas.
This is not a decision I make lightly. Over the last few months, I've found that the enjoyment I've been getting from writing has been declining steadily. Also, I feel the need to allocate more of my free time to my real-world concerns, the most significant of which is my soon-to-be 8-year-old daughter.
So I'm afraid that this is goodbye.
As I've said many times, I never started out to be a writer of erotica. I just wanted to give a little back to the newsgroup where I found so many great stories. I did a little figuring last night and found that if I put all the stories I've written together, it comes out to an almost 700-page book. After 370,393 words, I think it's time to call it a day.
Time is at a premium right now, so I don't know if I will be able to finish my last two stories. If I do, I will most certainly post them. The bottom line is that Ann Douglas (the author, not the person -- don't want to spread any more of those nasty "ANN IS DEAD" rumors again) will be gone as of September 1st.
I've met so many wonderful people online, and I will miss you all immensely. There are so many people that I want to thank for their help over the years, and rather than try and list them and perhaps leave someone out, I'll just say that I hope you all know how much I appreciated your assistance.
Well, I guess that's it.
Best Wishes To All,
Kate
"It was fun."."
Captain James T. Kirk
(Generations - 1995) |
18,606 | Shish Kebab | "Shish-kebab me," I say. "But don't let any of that sand get onto the travelling-rug. There's no knowing *where* it'll end up."
"Get fresh with me," you say. "Thread yourself around me."
"Do me like a dinner," I say. "Let me soak up your heat."
As Carl Orff softly beats his lyrical tempo from the streamlined black plastic beachblaster on the folding table, I feel your oily prick snake its way up through my innards, weaving benignly but thrillingly between (not *through*---how careful you are, Antony) my vital organs. Till now, as I've told you several times, I've only *imagined* your prick going that far. Now it's *happening*. Double, double toil and trouble. My fire burns, my cauldron bubbles. But the great dramatist never envisaged anything like this scene.
"Oh, my," I gasp, locking my eyes onto yours. "Where will it end? It's in my chest now. I feel so full. So fucking full. So fucking full of Antony."
"And it's going further, Sue, darling," you say. "May it slide into your throat?"
"Yes, please!"
"And then may it enter your mouth---carefully?"
"Oh, yes. But shove it! I don't care for the 'carefully'. Shove it into my mouth. Let me bite the fucker."
"Stuff that 'shove it' idea," you say. "I don't want to fucking hurt you---or me." Your penis creeps gently along my relaxed throat and slowly enters my mouth. Your bloated rubbery glans, tipped with its own tiny dribbling mouth, deforms when it nudges my top incisors, and sprinkles what feels like a few tablespoons of your precome over my bottom lip and my chin. I scoop up some precome, baby-oil from your supernatural spring, and rub it on my cheeks and my ears. Between my fingers it forms webs as glisteningly iridescent as detergent bubbles.
I try to speak, but all I can do is gurgle, because my throat and my mouth are full of Antonycock. We gaze into each other's eyes. I put a finger between my lips and palpate your ruddy rude glans, on the side that's usually the underside but that's now the side touching my top incisors. I then nibble the eaves of your glans, and my incisors nibble the skirt of it. My bottom jaw moves from side to side so that my top incisors tantalise (I hope) the nerve-endings in your exquisite unvandalised frenum---the clit you have when you don't have a clit. That finger, and the gently sharp teeth rasping your cockhead, seem to be the trigger that detonates your cache of white explosive.
"I'm coming!" you say. "Sue, I'm coming! Do you feel it?"
I try to nod my head. Your fruitjuice fulminates from my mouth (still surprised after all these years) and onto my chin and my neck. The sight of it is the trigger for my own explosion, from my scalp to my toes and back to my scalp, and then, erratically, to an archipelago of electric nodes between (I wonder whether an acupuncturist could identify them). I start to shake. My legs clench you and release you, clench you and release you. My hips jerk jerk jerk. Gurgle. Without the benefit of subtitles written across my face I can only wonder whether you're clever enough to interpret the gurgles as: "I'm coming too. Oh God, I'm coming all over. Oh, Christ, why haven't I experienced anything like this before? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, my darling."
But, of course, I have experienced it before. It's just that each time seems better than the previous time.
I shudder and moan and splutter for a minute while you, with an unlikely gymnastic agility, allow your cock to reciprocate through me with a stroke of more than a metre. My mind dances to the shafting friction in my mouth, in my throat, in my chest, in my tummy and in my streaming crotch. With sweating brow you withdraw your cock from me till its tip comes down to my womb, and then you push it all in again. This time about thirty fucking centimetres of the luminous thing (it seems to improve each shining minute) emerges from my mouth. My eyes widen, and with one hand I grab hold of your slippery cock and cuddle it to dissuade the vain and veiny thing from retracting into its me-sized sheath. With my other hand I scoop up some cock-spittle from my neck and rub it over the distal end of your cock and over my oniontower teats and over the rest of my little breasts and around the stretching "Oh!" ring of my lips. ("Oniontower" is your choice of metaphor, bless you. You describe each of my tits as a pair of oniontowers: a smaller one atop a bigger one. Whenever we prepare onions for a meal, or whenever I come across a photo of St Basil's Cathedral, my nipples swell with blood and stand to attention. Because of you.)
I gurgle with another shuddering climax, and I lose control of my bladder. My buttocks and my thighs feel my piss soak into the travelling-rug that separates us from the beach. More of your mayonnaise spills from your glans and drenches my hand. My eyes widen again, and I look into your eyes. I wink at you to tell you that everything's all right. You reach beneath yourself with a hand and collect some of my piss, still gushing from what now seems to have been a pretty full bladder. You rub my piss all over your smiling face, and you put some into your mouth, squish it around and swallow it. For the first time today I drink that surreal sight into my consciousness, and I flood my memory with all the earlier times and my imagination with all the times to come.
"Sue's piss," you say, and the final sibilant of that lovely phrase sprays some drops of me from between your tongue and your front teeth and onto my face. "Sue's fine piss. Fine Sue's piss. Your urine. Your bittersweet urine. Your chablis. I love your piss because it's yours. It's Sue's. You didn't faint, but you did the next best thing---you wetted yourself, you good girl. My darling."
Speechless I touch your lips with my fingers as you utter those wonderful words. I transfer some of my piss to your stiff teats (there's nothing vestigial about your nips, Tony---when they suckle me they take me all the way back to my infancy) and to your wispy armpits and to your tummy and to your hips. I yearn to put some on the ever-suckworthy tiny twitching mouth that you harbour between your bumcheeks, but now I can't quite reach it. I remember the first time you went off to work carrying not only a pastrami-and-tomato-and-cheese (or whatever it was) sandwich and a golden-delicious apple in your briefcase but also a couple of drops of my keepsake piss evaporating like eau de cologne from your cheeks, on your top ones and between your bottom ones.
We stay there, wordlessly stroking each other. Your glans retreats to just outside my lips, and when I kissingly purse my lips around your penis just below your glans my lips read your pulsing veins and arteries as if they're braille. What a message! What a medium! My fingers caress your glans. I still can't speak, but my circular fondling is designed to tell you that everything's still all right. You kiss my lips and your glans at the one time. You jerk some more semen out of your pouting slit and suck it into your mouth. You let the lotion (my usual trusty Ponds can jump in the lake, for the time being) ooze from your mouth onto my cheeks and nose and forehead and lips. I rub it into my smile with my hands. Shish-kebab sauce of the gods.
A few minutes later your penis starts to shrink slowly down through my system. When it retreats from my throat I take three or four deep breaths and say:
"That's enough foreplay, Antony. Don't be shy, dear boy. You can take your frigging finger out of my cunt now. Here, I'll show you what to do next." |
18,328 | A Story: Transformed Brother, Lesbian Sister and Girlfriend | "I swear to God, that brother of mine is the most worthless creature on this planet!"
Lisa Thomas was about ready to toss a Ming Dynasty vase through the patio doors when her roommate and business partner, Lynn Horton, grabbed it from behind.
"Whoa, there! What's gotten you pissed off enough to break a $15,000 antique?"
It took Lisa a few minutes to calm down and talk rationally, so Lynn replaced the vase on its pedestal and made them both a cup of tea.
"My brother Bob just called collect from a train station in France. He's broke and wants me to send him money." Her eyes flashed at the mention of her brother's name.
"What? Why does he need your money? It's only been two years since you received your inheritances. He couldn't have blown $750,000 in that short a time!"
Two years previously, Lisa and Bob's parents were killed by a drunk driver while coming home from a charity function. As a result of their mother's real estate business and father's successful medical practice, they shared equally in a substantial inheritance and insurance settlement.
"It seems that while I invested my money wisely in Dad's medical clinic and your music management firm, my brother was getting laid and stoned while playing with some rock band called 'Doggy Style'!"
Bob's only skill, at least as far as Lisa could see, was an uncanny ability on the electric guitar.
"What are you going to do? Send him the cash, or turn him down and teach him a lesson?" Lynn refilled their teacups.
"Tell you the truth, I'd like to let him rot over there until he's desperate enough to get a real job and earn his airfare home! But I guess I'll send the little shit a plane ticket. If I sent him cash, he'd probably just buy drugs with it."
"Does he know about the new developments in your life?" Lynn asked hesitantly.
"Um,...no! I haven't told him," Lisa giggled as Lynn handed her the refilled cup. "But he'll be in no position to make a stink. He'll be under my roof, living by my rules!"
There was a hint of triumph in her tone.
Lynn sat on the leather sofa and put her arm around Lisa. Lisa snuggled down into the cushions and purred contentedly.
"I can't wait to see your brother's reaction when he finds out his big sister is a dyed-in-the-wool lesbian!" |
18,350 | At The Stadium | "You know as well as I do that what a slutty bitch like you needs is public nudity, humiliation, punishment. A wooden cross, at the center of a football stadium. You, naked. Birched and flogged around the perimeter, for the cheering, mocking crowd."
"I imagine you being brought to the stadium naked and bound, in a steel cage in the back of a truck, so others outside have a chance to see you, too. A real sports event, with programs, souvenir nude photos, tee-shirts, posters... You know the kind of thing, 'Nailing The Slut: I Saw Debbie Crucified, 1997.' With good nudie photos of you, front and back."
"Good, keep rubbing, baby. I'd have thought a long afternoon pay-per-view sportscast was better. They go on so long, not that I ever watch them. And the audience is right. Lots of drunken, masturbating guys."
"We'll send him a note about it, so he doesn't miss it. So, there it'll start, with all the stupid commentators talking about it beforehand, some grainy home video of you wanking, some old Polaroids (or it could be shots from our QuickCam selection, eh? That 'Voyage Into Debbie's Cunt' series you made, maybe?)."
"A long erudite discussion of crucifixion in general, then some feminists arguing about what your problem really is, some dommes saying you have it absolutely right. A studio interview with the painslut herself, in which you remove your clothes as you talk."
"When do you miss an opportunity, darling? As long as you lick your fingers and really gross them out. Pull on your clit too, so they see you're as strange as the commercials promised."
"And, then it's locker room time, the torturers strutting, boasting about what they're going to do to you, jock-style. Then back to you in the studio, where you're getting a gynecological exam, on camera, with a lens shoved two inches from your rear. Your wide-open sloppy vulva and your big cunt gaping on millions of TV screens, and being taped by, well, who knows how many?"
"Soon, it's time to leave the downtown studio. You're cuffed and taken by two uniformed guards to an elevator, down to the loading dock, helped into your cage, chained up. Naked, spread out, everything on show, like the whore you are. There's a motorcycle escort, a truck packed with cheerleaders, a brass band in another truck. Placards and banners. Through downtown, crawling slowly through the shopping center. Then to the stadium."
"And arriving at the stadium, there'll be a little press conference that you will be marched into. Very personal questions, which you had better answer honestly. They want to hear about masturbation, your oral habits, what tortures you've experienced, your darkest fantasies. Your naked body is on show, and you're asked to rub and stroke yourself in the interests of truthful, filthy answers."
"Now, showtime is approaching, but the program cuts to your torturers, who are warming up, getting into their uniforms. One's saying, "The only thing I hate about these older women is they have no endurance." An interviewer says that in fact you are widely expected to perform well above par, and have provided lots of surprises so far in training sessions."
"Another torturer is saying: "...oh, what I hate? It's getting shit all over my dick. I mean!" Another is laughing: "He doesn't mind it if it's another guy's."
"You're at the bottom of the players' runway leading up to the stadium. Your wrists are cuffed behind you, your hair is pinned up. You're visibly shaking, and there are tears in your eyes. You're being handed over by the security team who've been supervising your delivery since the downtown TV studio, and given to this first team of torturers. Four tall, muscular black guys in tight-fitting brown uniforms, with long boots. All much bigger and younger than you. Chosen to reflect your deepest fears and prejudices, and they know it. One looks at you with an evil smile and asks: "Ready, bitch?" Another laughs: "Oh, a real housewife type. You got the energy for this, slut? This is a game for athletic women."
"A third, grabbing your hair snarls: "Get scared, you white piece of shit. We killed the last five womens we wuz given." The fourth is flexing a short black leather strap in his hands. Eighteen inches long, made of braided, stiff thongs. The others have similar brutal devices hanging from their belts. He prods your left breast. In a low, confiding voice he tells you: "Once round the stadium, slowly, and you'll wish you never saw us. We like to give good value. So we do what the crowd wants. And what they want is blood, mostly." The first snorts: "Easy enough with a naked woman and four good whips. We'll slice you up good before you get to take the long crawl out to the cross..." The second is unbuckling your dog collar, your master's present. You plead: "No, please. Leave it." He slaps your face hard, and begins to wind a long strand of barbed wire round your neck, wrapping it round six times, tightly, and twisting the ends together with pliers. "You're our slave now, honkie slut."
"The first, evidently the leader, has your breasts in his huge hands. He's squeezing, testing. A little chuckle as he sees how hard your nipples are. He pushes his face into yours, breathes stale beer on you, and says with a little smirk of delight: "You're kinda skinny, and older than most players, but the crowd expects us to fuck you. So we will, all of us. You like it in the ass? Don't matter none, cos we had you flushed...." From behind, one of these thugs has shoved two fingers deep in your vagina. "Tight cunt, too," a voice grunts in your ear. "Not when we're through, it won't be," another comments."
"You hear the announcement over the loudspeakers, and see your name in lights on the big scoreboard. It's about to begin."
"You'll be mercilessly flogged around the perimeter of the field. The crowd will be laughing, throwing food at you, mocking you. Even as you get bloodied, the women there will get into a frenzy about how you need more torture.""Then, you're going to crawl to the cross on your hands and knees, the cane biting into your ass. Hysterical and bloody by the time you get there."
Will I faint?
"I'm sure you will. Then you're strapped to the cross, and it'll be raised. A crown of thorns, of course. Now, some nails. Your legs are opened: nails are driven through your pussy lips. A wooden plank is placed under your breasts. Nails through your nipples. You see the close-ups on the huge TV screens. As time passes, say after an hour, they'll bring up a ladder so that various guys can climb up and fuck you."
I'm going to have to change the sheets after this. Oh, that is totally disgusting. I loved it! Just don't let me die, please.
"No way. The bitch must live to enjoy many more days of fun in the sun, mustn't she?" |
19,144 | She's A Teaser 2 | "I often don't, except when I know I'm going to be trying on shoes, or something. Even then, I forget sometimes. It certainly does make for an interesting time in the shoe store. Usually the guys want to help me try on 20 or 30 pairs!" She continued, "But I just didn't think how panties would look with this. And it makes the whole thing positively ugly."
I countered quickly. "I don't really think ugly is the right word. In fact, I'd have to say that the whole damn package is pretty amazing, panty lines or not."
She told me to turn my head to the left and look at the fireplace. I did as she asked, and when she told me to turn back, there were her panties draped over the back of the sofa. She stood straight in front of me, with her legs about 6 inches apart. "Now doesn't that honestly look better?" she asked.
My head turned from the panties on the sofa to the area where they had been just moments before and back. The dress still covered that amazing space at the juncture of her slender legs, but the knowledge that there was just one little wispy, clingy piece of cloth in the way of my view was an immense turn-on. I tried to burn a hole in the cloth with my eyes. No luck. Still, depending on how she moved, I could see the occasional outline, the hint of it, really, of her pubic hair pushing out against the cloth.
"Yes, that honestly looks better. Real honestly. Unbelievably honestly." My words were getting harder and harder for me to pronounce. And other parts of my anatomy were suffering the same effect.
She walked over and picked up the panties. "Here, look," she said. You could have blown me over with a feather. How far was this going to go, I wondered. But I remembered her speech about her husband and how much in love they were and how she would never do anything to jeopardize her marriage. Well, OK. This was certainly entertainment enough. And then I remembered that her husband was out of town until Thursday. So...
Anyway, she held out the panties, saying "They're part of a matched set. Really. It's so cute. Want to see the other half?" I readily agreed. She walked into the bedroom and returned just a moment later with a shrink-wrapped package.
"I thought it would be a bra," I said.
"No no no. It's a matched set. His and hers. They were just so cute that I couldn't resist. These are his. Go ahead, open the package. He probably won't wear them anyway."
My fingers pried at the plastic. "Why not?" I said.
"Oh, he only wears briefs, and these are boxer shorts. But I just thought the idea of the 'His and Hers' was so cute that I had to get them. Whaddya think?"
"Well, I wear boxers, so I'm not prejudiced," I started. But before I could get out another word, she squealed and interrupted.
"Oh, you're kidding. Oh, that's great. Would you do me the biggest favor. I mean the real biggest? Would you model them for me? Maybe that will give me some ideas on how to get John to wear them."
It was a pretty lame excuse, I thought, but hey, who was I to argue. "Ah, sure, sure. I suppose." I stood up and went for my belt.
She stopped me. "For heaven's sake, not here. Go change in the bedroom and come back out."
"Oh," I said. "Sorry." Guess her marriage speech was more real than I had hoped. Oh well. Just keep playing, I thought.
I stepped into the bedroom, dropped my pants and my shorts. My dick jumped out at half-staff. I did my best to get into the boxers and tried to lose at least a little of my erection, and after a couple of moments succeeded in getting as comfortable as I could with a small tent sticking up in the front.
"Well, are you ever coming back?" she said. Her voice was raised enough to hear clearly around the corner.
"Ready or not," I said. I walked around the corner. Her eyes rocketed to the shorts. She burst out laughing.
"They're great. Just great."
I had to say, I thought they were queer. There was a big red heart plastered on the front of them, a design I hadn't seen when they were folded inside the shrink-wrap. "Well, I think they're a little weird," I noted.
"Why," she asked. "Don't you get it? See? Her heart-on."
I honestly hadn't noticed the little "Her" embroidered above the big heart. She stabbed at the word with her finger. About 3 inches from my manhood, and closing. But it was not to be. She really was just pointing out the word on the shorts.
"Here, look." She picked up her panties again. Now I noticed the little embroidery on them, the word "His" with a picture of a cat. I wrinkled my nose. The cat was positioned right across the pubic area.
"His pussy. Don't you get it? I think it's a riot. Her heart-on, his pussy. Oh, I just had to have them."
I let out an involuntary breath. "Oh, yeah, now I get it. Pretty funny." Where was this going?
She continued, "Of course, yours aren't always supposed to look like they do now. You know, with your boner in there, and everything."
I blushed. I flushed. She went on. "That's OK. Really. I've seen a boner before. But we can cure that."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, we can just wait a while. I'm sure it'll go down if we just give it some time." She hesitated. "Or..."
"Or?" I said.
"Or we can just whap Mister Wiggle there with a rolled-up newspaper or something. At least I won't be worried that you're going to rip the material."
"Oh," I said, involuntarily pulling my pelvis back. "I thought maybe there would be some other alternative..." I trailed off.
"No," she said. "Remember the rules. Teasing and flirting is OK. But I don't want to do something that could affect my marriage. Remember?"
"Yeah, sure. I agree. Absolutely." I didn't mean a word of it, but what the hell, this broad had set the rules and I was sure enjoying the game. I saw no reason to take the chance of screwing it up.
"So, we'll just wait a few minutes, and then I'll get to see how those shorts look without the tent option." She smiled. I smiled back. OK, what now?
She said "Have a seat," motioning me back to my narrow little hard-back chair. Sitting down did nothing to disguise my condition. "I'm sure if we just wait, that ole hard-on will go away and then you can model the shorts for me again."
"This could be a long wait," I said. As I sat there staring at her, she stepped directly in front of me and cast her eyes down at my groin. Yeah, this could take a long time, I thought.
She stood facing me while holding her arms behind her, not exactly sticking her chest out, but the effect was nearly the same. She held her panties in her hands which were folded behind her butt. Suddenly she dropped the panties.
"Oh my," she said. And with that, she turned around and bent at the waist to pick them up. Her knees were locked rigid, and as she bent over, the back of the dress rode up and the full flower of her womanhood stared me in the face.
"Oh my god," I said.
"What?" she asked.
"You should be careful about bending over in a short skirt in front of people when you don't have any panties on. At the party, I mean, of course."
"Why?" she asked innocently. "Can you see something else that you're not supposed to see?" She ever so slowly began to straighten up, still facing away from me. God, what an ass!
"Yes, actually. I could sort of, you know, kind of see, your, ah,"
"Oh, here we go again," she interrupted. "Don't tell me you could see my pussy. Oh, how embarrassing."
Needless to say, if I thought I was hard before, now I could have used my dick to pound a nail into concrete. The effect of her talking about her pussy almost made me lose it right then and there. This was just about like having a wet-dream except with your eyes open and you remember every second of it.
"OK, yes, your pussy. I could see a little of your, ah, pussy." I still wasn't comfortable talking with this voluptuous neighbor about her pussy. But what the heck, when in Rome, I always say.
"How much of it," she wanted to know.
"Well, I don't know how to describe it, exactly."
She began to lean over again. "Well, if I bend over this far, how much can you see?" She inclined at about a 20-degree angle. |
Subsets and Splits