It was while she was in the shower that she remembered that this was the night John was coming round. She blushed at the thought of wearing the revealing clothes, heels and necklace in front of him. She was nervous and excited as she changed; just putting on the clothes reminded her of Saturday night and started to make her tingle and wet.
When the doorbell rang she was still sat in her room. Louise let John in and then a few minutes later called her. Jenny came into the living room very nervous and blushing, and it wasn’t helped when John gave her his most devastating smile and then clearly eyed her up and down.
“Hello! Jenny, isn’t it? Louise has been telling me how well you are settling down to live here.”
Jenny couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like John gave a knowing smile at this point. What had her aunt been telling him?
Over dinner Jenny didn’t really say much. John was wearing a short sleeved shirt that seemed to show off his shoulders and made his tanned forearms look delicious. She tried not to drink all her wine, but there was no water at the table, and the meal was a spicy Mexican dish.
Louise and John made most of the conversation and they both kept looking at her. She was very embarrassed when Louise asked John if he thought Jenny was pretty, but secretly pleased when he replied that she was simply gorgeous. But she didn’t know what to think when a moment later John kissed Louise across the table. It wasn’t a discreet kiss but a fully passionate one, and it seemed to stir up all her emotions watching these two, thinking Louise was going to sleep with this gorgeous man that night.
After dinner, Aunt Louise asked Jenny to help clear away. Standing in the kitchen, Louise moved closer to Jenny and whispered in her ear, “You look ravishing, baby, John couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Now, are you wearing what I asked? Let’s see.”
With that she lifted up the front of the dress to reveal the Jenny’s pussy tightly pressed against the bronze satin knickers. Suddenly Louise pushed her hand down the front of them and her finger slid right into Jenny’s pussy. Jenny hadn’t realised but she was wet and Louise’s finger slid in easily. Louise pulled it out and before Jenny could say or do anything, had slid the wet finger into Jenny’s mouth. Jenny couldn’t believe what was happening - the thought of tasting herself half disgusted her, but the taste of her own pussy was intoxicating on her aunt’s finger and she realised she was sucking it clean.
“Now turn around and close your eyes dear.”
Jenny wasn’t sure but she did as she was told. She felt her aunt’s hands gently stroking her, and then ever so subtly she felt her arms pulled behind her back. The next thing she knew they were handcuffed behind her.
“Auntie, don’t!” said Jenny, suddenly waking up from the daze that she had been in.
“Now darling baby, you mustn’t worry. You know your Aunt has your best wishes in mind. Now I want you to look me in the eye,” Louise said, as she gently turned Jenny around.
“John wants to fuck you, and I know you want him too. Now, I’m only going to offer you this chance once. If you really want, I’ll undo the handcuffs, you can go to your room, and I’ll have John.”
“But if you want to have the most amazing night of your life, you just have to say ‘Yes Auntie’. If you do, then you will stay handcuffed until I undo you, and anything that John or I want we can have. You have to submit to our every wish. And whatever happens, you know I love you and will look after you.”
Jenny stood there, not knowing what to say or do, but her Auntie’s eyes seemed to be melting her as she looked straight into Jenny’s young face and smiled.
Jenny seemed in a different world as she heard her own voice say, “Yes, Auntie.”
“Good girl. Now, aren’t you pleased I got you ready for John last weekend? He loved the idea of taking your virginity, but he didn’t want to deal with the mess and pain of your hymen.”
Jenny looked shocked as she realized that the whole thing - the experience, the dress, the underwear - had all been arranged by her aunt for the benefit of John.
Her aunt led her back into the living room where John was waiting. He had undressed and apart from a pair of black boxers, his beautiful tanned and muscled body was naked.
He seemed completely at ease, and it was as if he had never expected anything else than to see Jenny led in handcuffed. He walked over to her and kissed her hard, his hands exploring her breasts and thighs, all the while Louise was holding her in front of him by the shoulders.
Then Jenny felt her Louise’s mouth on her neck and earlobes. The younger girl had to close her eyes as the two of them stroked and touched and kissed her, and the pleasure became almost too much to bear. There was nothing she could do except accept it - her hands were handcuffed, and she was held between the two of them.
Louise undid the bows on Jenny’s dress, and pulled it down over her generous breasts. She felt her aunt pulling the bra straps down over her shoulders but leaving it done up at the back and then gently pulling each breast out of the cup, so they sat on the bra, exposed, held up, almost offered to John. His mouth moved down to her nipples and she moaned as he bit them - not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel like he would if he wanted to.
“Get down on your knees,” whispered her aunt into her ear, kissing it as she did.
She felt Louise supporting her as she knelt down. John just stood in front of her, and she could see a wicked bump through his underwear. Her aunt moved around behind him, then carefully pulled his boxers down. She left Jenny there for a minute to stare at the first cock she had ever seen in real life. It looked far bigger than she had expected.
The she realized that her aunt was standing beside them both, one hand slowly stroking John’s cock and the other on the back of Jenny’s neck, pushing her mouth towards the cock. Jenny instinctively opened her mouth and felt the heat of his rod as the head was pushed between her lips. She sucked at it, inexpertly, loving the feel of it in her mouth. It may not have been the perfect technique, but she got a moan out of John. She noticed Louise pulling off her own clothes, leaving just her underwear.
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“That’s enough!” Louise said. “We don’t want to waste any of that precious cum, do we, John?”
He smiled at Louise but it could be seen that he only wanted one thing, and that was to cum.
“Now sweetie, let’s get you out of those wet undies”.
Louise pulled Jenny back to her feet and then bent her over the table, forcing her breasts onto the cold surface, and pulling the dress up at the same time. She pulled the knickers down, and then started rubbing Jenny’s juice all around the lips and clit, making Jenny moan as the fingers slid in and out of Jenny’s tight pussy.
Jenny suddenly realised she was about to be fucked for the first time. She looked over her shoulder to see Louise whispering into John’s ear. She saw John’s cock and felt thrilled and scared to have it inside her. She suddenly realized that he wasn’t wearing a condom.
“Auntie,” she called out, “John isn’t wearing any protection.”
“Darling, don’t worry about that. It’s going to feel wonderful. John will be very good with you.”
“But … Auntie,” stammered Jenny.
“Shhhhh, darling, remember your promise.”
“Auntie….. I don’t want to get pregnant.”
Louise suddenly brought her hand up and spanked Jenny hard on her exposed bottom. She didn’t do it once, she kept doing it until Jenny’s arse was red and she was crying and screaming out in pain. Then Jenny felt Louise gagging her, tying a scarf to cover her mouth.
Jenny felt completely lost. She didn’t know what was going on. She heard Louise say to John, “Just give me a minute with Jenny”.
Then Louise was next to her, whispering in her ear, “Darling baby. You have to trust your aunt.”
As she said this, her hand slipped between Jenny’s legs and started to stroke her again. Jenny couldn’t resist her aunt’s fingers; her aunt knew exactly how to turn her on. All the while her aunt was talking to her.
“Darling, you mustn’t worry about getting pregnant, you will make a lovely mother. John really wants to pump his sperm into you, and today is your most fertile time. That’s why you are so horny tonight darling baby. Please don’t worry, I’ll help you look after the baby, and I know you will love being pregnant. You know I planned this all, and I even chose John to make you pregnant because he’s so good looking.”
Jenny’s brain was on overload here – on one hand her aunt was planning to get her pregnant, and yet she couldn’t resist the fingers stroking her. She couldn’t help herself from moaning beneath the gag. This obviously was what Louise was waiting for, as she called out to John to come over.
Louise untied the gag, and even though she could now cry out all she did was moan with pleasure. Despite her worries about getting pregnant, deep down she just needed John’s cock inside her. She felt her aunt’s hands holding her lips apart, holding her pussy open.
Then she felt John’s strong hands on arse, and then the head of his cock pushing against her pussy. And then suddenly she felt his cock forcing inside her. It was much bigger than the dildo and it was lucky she was so wet. Her pussy stretched open to accept the first cock that it had ever had.
John was thoroughly aroused, but he wasn’t a young teenager, and he controlled himself as he started to fuck the teenager in front of him. The thought of pumping his cum into her pussy and filling her womb with his baby was intense and he had to push the idea to one side to stop himself from cumming straight away.
Jenny’s pussy was on fire as Johns cock slid in and out, making it tingle beyond belief. It felt like there was nothing she could do to stop him, to stop him from pumping his hot sperm deep inside her virgin pussy. But then Louise told John to stop. He pulled out, and left his cock’s head right up against the lips of Jenny’s pussy.
Louise then told John to stay completely still.
She then said to Jenny, “Jenny, I just want a simple yes or no answer - do you want John to keep fucking you? He’s getting close, and I won’t be able to stop him again before he cums. So, do you want him to?”
Jenny’s mind swirled like a sandstorm. Part of her was thinking that she was too young to get pregnant, but that didn’t seem to stop her from trying to move her hips back to get John’s cock inside her again. Her whole body ached to be filled by his big cock, and she kept wondering what it would be like to feel him cum inside her. She had always been so independent, but now her aunt seemed to have taken charge and she suddenly found herself stammering “Yes, Auntie,”
She didn’t feel John move. Louise must have been holding him back, because the cock that she craved inside her still wasn’t sliding in as she needed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t hear that,” replied her Aunt.
This time Jenny realized that she knew what she wanted and she said clearly, “Yes, Auntie.” With that, she felt John’s cock slide in deeply in one amazing wonderful thrust and she moaned louder than ever.
Louise moved round in front of her so she could see both their faces and her hand moved between her own legs as she watched. Louise was in ecstasy watching; it was clear that the idea of Jenny getting pregnant was driving her wild. She was rubbing her pussy, finger fucking herself, all the while encouraging John.
“Go on John, do it, cum inside her. I want to see you pumping into her. Go on, fill her womb with your sperm. Fill her up. Yess! Oh Jenny, you’re so lucky, you’re going to have a darling baby in your tummy.”
Jenny’s pussy was on fire and her whole body was consumed in the pleasure of John’s delicious cock filling her pussy. Jenny was moaning and writhing, her hands still handcuffed, and Jenny’s moaning just seemed to push John on; he sped up and started groaning, and even Jenny, with no experience, could tell from John’s rhythm that this was it, that he was going to cum.
Jenny heard herself moaning, “Yesssss, yesssss, fill me up.”
Suddenly, this was too much for John. He moaned loudly, his body stiffened, and his cock thrust in as deep as ever. Jenny felt him bursting deep inside her. Her pussy was so tight that she could feel each spurt. Despite herself, she felt her body shudder as a huge orgasm took over her body. The feeling of John’s cum pumping inside her was incredible and her pussy seemed to be squeezing of its own accord; her climax made her vagina tighten around John’s cock and squeeze every drop of sperm out of it.
She almost blacked out and when she realized what was happening - the handcuffs had been removed. Her aunt was helping her up, taking off her now crumpled dress and bra, and leading her over to the sofa. John and Louise sat her down between them, and they both kissed and cuddled Jenny as she recovered from the ordeal. She thought she could almost feel the sperm inside her, searching for her egg, making her pregnant.
As she sat there, she heard her aunt, still working her magic and trying to seduce and continue her submission, “Baby, you are such a good girl, I’m so proud of you. You really milked John’s cum there, I could see your tight pussy was squeezing it out. You were so hungry for it, weren’t you darling?”
“And in a minute, when John has recovered, we’ll do it all over again, just to make sure. Now you’ve been impregnated, you won’t have any silly worries about protection this time and you can really enjoy it,” Louise added.
Jenny found herself meekly saying, “Yes, Auntie.”
The End
Ellen’s Story
Ellen stood in the steaming shower trying to prepare her self for what was coming. He would be here soon and she knew this would be a serious session.
Her bottom seemed to tingle in anticipation. Her stomach had butterflies in it as she scrubbed herself. Still she could not deny her growing arousal and she lowered her hand held shower massage towards her aching need.
Mike dressed after a hot shower and drank a cup of coffee as he remembered last night. Ellen had asked him to coach her as she worked through this time of change in her life. She had gotten deep into debt after her divorce and had turned to junk food to consol her self. She was drinking way too much as well. When she had to move from the apartment she rented because she couldn’t pay the rent she had come to him in desperation. He moved her into one of his rental properties on the condition she would let him help her get her life straightened around. A diet and exercise program had helped her shed 65lbs. and firm up considerably. She had quit drinking on his insistence and had found her job performance and moods quite improved. Together they worked on her finances and she was slowly getting out of debt and paying her cards off. So why, he wondered did she go out and get drunk and end up stuck in a farmer’s field with her car last night?
The deal they had made was that she would keep close track of these parts of her life and he would come over bi-weekly and review her notes and check lists. Any and all violations would lead to a punishment spanking for her.
The severity and implements would depend on how badly she had erred.
It was an arrangement that provided a release for both of them and filled a need to halt Ellen’s self-destructive ways. She was a woman that needed the sexual release a spanking provided. Mike was more than happy to provide this for her for it also filled his own needs.
The night before Ellen had a bad shift at the restaurant she worked and the one glass of wine she was allowed turned to 3 then 4 and a couple of shots.
She knew she shouldn’t drive but did anyway and somehow forgot about the roads sharp turn and ended up stuck in a hay field. Frightened from the incident and fearing a DWI if the police came she had called Mike and woke him up to plead for help.
After first finding out if she was all right he jumped into his four-wheel drive truck and rushed to where she was.
Mikes concern turned to an angry glare after he realized she was drunk. He hooked a chain to her car and pulled her out. Her apology fell on deaf ears as he checked the car over to make sure it was safe to drive.
“Get in the car and I’ll follow you home he said, and drive slow!”
She knew better than to say anything and did as he said. At her house he followed her in and poured her a large glass of water and made her drink it.
His stern lecture was short and to the point. Tomorrow punishment was going to take on a new meaning for her.
He sent her to bed with a hug and a slap on the bottom and left her to ponder her fate. Ellen felt both guilty and sorry for herself as she dried her hair. She put on very little makeup, as she knew soon tears would fall and smudge it anyway. She modeled her naked form in front of the mirror and was secretly pleased with what she saw. Though she was too voluptuous to ever be called thin she felt she looked quite good compared to before. Large breasted and wide hipped she was all curves. She stuck her ample round ass out and looked over her shoulder at it in the mirror. Although she still felt it was too big she had to admit it was a hell of a target. Slipping on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white cotton button up top she finished getting ready.
Mike had been surprised by her admission that she liked to be spanked and was shocked when he had half jokingly suggested it as a way to motivate her and she had eagerly agreed. Now as he drove over to her house his thoughts turned to last night and the task before him. She had told him of her father’s dreaded sessions with his belt against her bare bottom. She hated the belt and up to now he had never had to use one. Very soon that would change as he thought of her close call the night before. They had set strict rules and limits for her behavior and she had bettered herself in many ways from when they started. Every once in awhile she would push the limits he had found, as if to bring on a severe session. This time, he thought, she had gone way too far.
Her phone call had scared him at first, he wasn’t sure what he would find, but to find her drunk had turned his fear to icy anger. He thought of the guilty looks she had given him as he lectured her the night before after he got her to the safety of her house. Her tears were flowing as he sent her to bed with a hug and a firm pat on the bottom to remind her of what was to come.
Noon was the appointed punishment hour for them and as he drove along he timed his entry to arrive a few minutes before. He expected her to be ready when he got there.
She was drinking her second cup of coffee and nervously watching the clock when his old Lincoln pulled into the yard. The sound of the stones under the big cars tires sent an electric tingle through her body. She watched him get out of the car and walk to the kitchen door and realized her hands had started to shake and those familiar feelings of excitement tinged with dread filled her. “This is it she thought”, as he opened the door.
Mike stepped into the kitchen where she stood waiting, looking like a little girl who had brought home a report card filled with F’s. Her nipples, he noted, stood out like two bullets against her white cotton pajama top.
He set his bag of implements on the counter and said simply, “Bring me your list.”
She took it from the wall and he read it over silently as she stood there before him. He noticed as he read that she kept touching her bottom and curling her toes as she stood there.
“Good, he thought, she’s nervous.”
>Ellen kept a list of her financial budget and her strict diet for him to read at their bi-weekly sessions. She was always honest at this, as she knew it was the only way she could better herself. She handed him the list with dread as she had overspent on her budget last month. She had also
faltered on her strict diet and knew the scale would tell the sad fact. She could tell from the expression on his face that he wasn’t pleased and she felt her throat go dry as he looked up at her.
“Not very good is it, he asked?”
“No, she whispered!”
“We agreed you would not use the card unless you could pay it off at the end of the month didn’t we?”
She could only nod as she fought the lump in her throat that was there.
“I see you over spent almost $400:00 on this stuff, he said quietly. Do you remember why we made this rule, Ellen?”
Again she just nodded miserably.
“Tell me, he said.”
She hated this part of these >sessions; her body was sending mixed signals. Her bottom was tingling in anticipation and her sex was growing increasingly damp. Her throat was dry as she spoke.
“So I can pay off my debts and not lose my good credit again!”
“And, He said?”
“Because you loaned me the money to pay off cards so I could get out of debt and learn to control my finances.”
“Well since you haven’t held up your part of the agreement, I’ll have to provide you with an incentive don’t you think, he said quietly? I think a good hard dose of the paddle will serve to remind you to stay within your budget, don’t you?”
She could only nod yes, as she wished he would just get started, the waiting and lecture was terrible torture for her.
He then turned to her diet “cheat sheet”. She kept track of her every snack. Although Sundays she was allowed to “cheat” a little she had gone a little crazy after she got her credit card bills and knew now she would pay for it.
Mike frowned at her as he read the list. “I’m not even going to weigh you today, he said! You do want to keep the weight off that you’ve lost don’t you, he asked?”
Again she could only nod her head as a tear rolled down her cheek.
“You’re a beautiful woman and you look great now, and you’ve fought so hard to lose it, I don’t want to see you have to start over again.”
Ellen heard the concern in his voice and it touched her.
“I’m sorry,” she said guiltily, as more tears fell."
“What should I do about>this, he asked?”
“Spank me, she whispered with her head down.”
“I think so too, said Mike.” After we’re done then we’ll have to deal with last night’s escapade, as well."
“She’s ready, he thought as he pulled her to his side.”
He looked straight into her tear filled eyes as he unfastened the catch on her plaid flannel pajama bottoms. She was trembling as he slid them over her hips and down to her ankles. He was surprised to find she had worn no panties. She knew he liked her to wear them so he could start her spanking over them.
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Cupping her one bottom cheek he pulled her over his lap. She knew this position well and wiggled herself into a comfortable place. Mike ran his hand over her ample round bottom, cupping and squeezing them.
“Since you didn’t wear panties I guess you won’t need a warm up so we’ll get right to the main event, he said!”
“Ellen had went willingly over his lap, anything was better than waiting, she thought.” She tried to prepare herself for him to start as his hands ran over her bottom.
“No warm up, she thought after he spoke, oh no!”
Before she could look over her shoulder or say anything his hand connected with a SPLAT that burned like crazy. Then a flurry of blows smacked into her bottom firmly as she tried to ride the pain. Each slap burned into her bottom. She could feel it becoming stinging hot. > Mike watched as her round globes of flesh shook and quivered as his hand came down again and again. White skin turned quickly pink then red as he spanked her firmly. He could feel the heat rising from her bottom as he kept up the steady rhythm. Soon she was rocking on his lap as her legs began to pump in an effort to relieve the burning sting.
After about 50 blows he stopped and cupped each cheek in turn. She sobbed quietly as he rubbed her hot bottom.
“A good start, he said.” Perhaps you’ll take your diet more seriously from now on." She continued to rock her hips as he rubbed her red bottom.
“God she thought that this spanking would never end!”
His hands were driving her crazy as he rubbed her bottom, a fingertip occasionally grazing her sex. Yet she knew it was only a beginning and she was far from done.
Somewhere deep inside she ached for more, needed more, and wanted more even as her tears fell.
Mike helped her to her feet and took her by the arm and led her to the back of an overstuffed chair.
“Bend over, he commanded!”
She laid herself over the back of the chair till her elbows were on the seat. Her position limited her movements and she preferred it for more severe punishments even though it left her exposed fully. Her heart was thudding in her chest as she waited from him to pick an implement from his bag. With a shudder she realized she could feel her own wetness on her thighs.
He picked a plywood paddle shaped like an oversized ping-pong paddle. It could pack a hell of a sting but was easy to control. He tapped it lightly against his hand as he looked at the lovely site before him. She was bent over, her back arched to present her bottom properly to him. Her legs were spread enough that her sex was completely exposed like a flower waiting to be picked. He noted her obvious wetness as he walked slowly over to her. Each time the paddle tapped against his hand her bottom gave a little shiver. Standing beside her he placed a hand in the hollow of her back and rubbed the paddle over her shivering red buns.
She could hardly breathe as his hand pushed down lightly on her back. The paddles cool wood sent electric tingles through her body as he rubbed it across her bottom. She hated the waiting for him to start and found herself pushing back against the rubbing wood. Tap, tap, went the paddle and she steeled herself for the first blow only to have him rub it across her buns some more. She let out a low moan at his sweet torture.
“This is for being irresponsible with money, he said, as he raised the paddle!”
He swung it firmly and it connected with a sharp SPLAT. He watched her buns shake with the impact and quickly swung again. Her gasps and groans soon became yelps and howls as the dance of the scalded ass began. 1, 2, and 3, on one cheek then the same on the other brought her to tears again in short order. He moved the blows around and varied the time in between so she couldn’t anticipate them. After 3-dozen swats he stopped and cupped her now blazing bottom. She sobbed as her rubbed each cheek for a moment.
Finally he said’“12 more to go, are you ready?”
She took several deep shuddering breaths and finally answered, “all right, I’m ready!”
Ellen felt like her bottom was on fire but she steadied herself for the next set of blows. Still he cupped and rubbed her cheeks and she relaxed with his soothing touch. Then it was gone and she felt the air move as he swung the paddle against her with a loud SMACK!
“Too much, she thought, as the paddle connected.”
She squeezed the cushion tightly as she counted each swat that brought new burning fire to her backside. By the twelfth blow she was up on her toes and howling but she willed herself to stay in position. It took a minute for her to realize it was over but she still didn’t move till he told her to.
After the last set he stepped back and watch at the contortions she did with her bottom. It was as if she was trying to shake the pain out and modesty was clearly forgotten as she exposed all her charms.
He grasped her arm and helped her up. She clenched her fists against the urge to grab at her bottom and danced around some more.
Still with all this he knew she was not close to her limit yet, even with her tears he knew she would take more to bring to her breaking point.
“You can rub your bottom, he said”!
Her hands shot back as he watched her rub franticly. Mike slowly unbuttoned her top as she rubbed, her tear filled eyes on his. They slid it off together and he stepped back to look at her. Her nipples stood out from her large heavy breasts as he gently squeezed them his thumbs flicking the hard tips of them. He knew he had to only slide one hand down to her wet sex to bring her to a shuddering orgasm but he didn’t. Instead he took her elbow in hand and led her to a small bedroom.
He took her face in his hands and looked her in the eyes. “We’re not done yet, he said.”
“I know, she replied softly.”
She stood there waiting as he stepped to the bed and put 2 pillows in its center.
“On your belly, hips on the pillows, He ordered firmly!”
She looked over her shoulder at him as she climbed into position. Mike took her hands and put them up where she could grasp the bars of the headboard. He pulled her ankles apart some and then ran his fingertips up the backs of her thighs making her shudder. He then >walked out to his bag and picked up his newly purchased strap.
Ellen was familiar with this position and for just a minute she was 15 again, reliving the night she had gotten caught sneaking in from seeing her boyfriend when she had been grounded. Her father was waiting in her dark room as she crawled into the window. He lectured her with tears in his eyes and she realized he had been more than worried; he had been scared. So even when she had pulled her jeans and panties off and lay on her bed as he unbuckled his belt, she >had felt loved. She never forgot that feeling even as his belt bit into her bare bottom.
She looked back over her shoulder as Mike walked back into the room with the strap in hand. She felt strangely calm as she tightened her grip on the headboard and waited. He laid the leather across her hot cheeks and the cool leather sent shock waves to her sex. She felt like part of her about to be opened as he raised the strap.
Mike was surprised at how calmly she got into position for him. He raised the strap and the only reaction he saw was the twitching of her cheeks.
“Ellen, he said, last night was inexcusable!”
With that he brought the belt swishing down. It CRACKED across her cheeks leaving a purple stripe.
She let out a yelp and rocked on the pillows as the pain sank in. He slowly raised it again and waited a few seconds then brought it sharply down.
OOWWWWWW she yelled at that one and wiggled more vigorously as he raised it once again. Six slow strokes turned her red cheeks purple. Then five quick >ones broke her down, she had reached her limit. She sobbed limply into the pillows.
“NEVER do that again, He said!” and swung the final stroke.
He dropped the strap and rubbed her back till she got control of herself. She crawled of the bed and hugged him fiercely as she wept into his shirt.
He pulled a tube of aloe lotion from his shirt pocket and began to rub it into her punished bottom. She winced at his first touch but soon straddled his out thrust leg and began to rub against his thigh. Deep heavy breaths had replaced her sobs as he continued to rub lotion into her cheeks and she rode his thigh. Her orgasm came quickly and seemed to last forever to Mike. They stood for quite some time after that just quietly holding on to each other.
Later they had a cup of coffee together, she stood of course, and then she pulled him to her bedroom where they made slow passionate love.
Ellen had found her motivation to better herself but most of all they had found what they both needed. Each other!
The End
Six Years of Waiting
It shouldn’t have been so perfect. If I honestly sit back and listen to the rational part of my mind speaking, I know it’s borderline crazy. Well, not insane, but if my friends knew they’d probably think I had a screw loose somewhere. Several screws in fact, labeled ‘Common Sense’ and ‘Being Realistic.’
We’ve known each other for so many years, felt such strong feelings, and yet have never met. I think back on those sunswept afternoons in my dorm room, watching the leaves blowing by through the picture window, the sounds of footsteps in the hallway and voices calling to each other on the sidewalk. I can’t count the hours I spent on the computer, waiting breathlessly for you to log on.
It hurt, having my first serious boyfriend break up with me. I remember the words he used, so lightly, as if it were something he said everyday. “You’re such a tease, to leave me all blue-balled. But I just don’t think we’re right for each other, you know? We’ll always be friends, though.” As he went on, I could read between the lines - in short, I wouldn’t have sex with him so he was moving on. For some reason, the phrase ‘I’m a virgin’ didn’t seem to explain it all. How could I with a straight face and not blushing, tell him that his kiss was the first one that sent sparks shooting through me, that woke a nameless desire to wrap my legs around him and work closer to that unrealized peak of pleasure?
In tears I returned to my dorm room, sat down at the computer, and when you logged on I poured my heart out to you. He had introduced us some months ago, you an old friend of his, me his latest interest being both attractive and interested in gaming. You were sympathetic and kind, listening well and trying to explain the mysteries of nineteen year-old guys to me. We sat up for hours after that, long past when the footsteps quieted in the hall outside my door, almost until the sun came up again. Instead of slaying monsters in a mythical land, we sat on a rock together, our characters, and chatted about anything, everything. By the time the sun rose I felt like we had been friends for years. “For some reason, I trust you,” you typed.
It took a few weeks, but I finally felt I was past the ex. You stood by me in support, in so much as someone can in text. Without ever having heard your voice, I felt like you were wrapping strong arms around me to comfort, as real as any of my many real life friends.
How many months, years, after that did I beg and plead for you to come see me? We grew closer as time went on, chatting nonstop whenever we could, staying up all weekend just to spend time together. If I took a step back, it seemed crazy to feel such a connection to someone three thousand miles away. Yet, I couldn’t deny the warmth that kindled in my heart when you jokingly said we’d be perfect for each other, or how my heart skipped a beat and my breath stilled when late one night you wrote, “You are my soul mate, or close to it, but you live so far away.” I remember how thrilled I was at our first phone conversation, your Southern drawl gentle and pleasing to the ear, your laughter deep and masculine.
If I’d had the money I would have bought you a plane ticket, though common sense still reminded me that I didn’t know you at all. So many cases splashed across the news of young women abducted, assaulted, murdered, for letting their guard down and meeting someone they knew from online. This was different though. I’ve always trusted my instincts to steer me right, and all of them screamed at me to find some way, any way, to be in your arms.
Sometimes you disappeared for weeks, unable to handle the pain of separation, or so you said when you would surface again. I had no choice but to wait, achingly, for you to call or log on again. School kept me busy, but it didn’t seem half as important as knowing when you were coming back. Sometimes I laid awake at night, crying silently so my roommate wouldn’t hear, vowing to move on past this intangible love to something more real.
You dealt with a handful of guys I dated in moments of weakness, trying to drown the dream of being with you. The relationships never lasted long, perhaps a month at most, when I realized these guys didn’t satisfy the soul-deep need to have someone understand me without judging. You even accepted when I made a mistake one night, believing someone’s coaxing words of love, and lost the virginity I’d always wanted to save as a prize for true love. In the end, I always wanted to come back to you, which is strange thought when I’d never laid eyes on you, only pictures.
Ahh, the pictures. Your piercing blue eyes and hair like sun-kissed brown silk. I wanted to run my hands through it, leave it the way it showed all touseled over your forehead. The mischief in your eyes matched the voice, laughter dancing in them, and I longed to lock my gaze with yours for real.
In spite of the depth of our feelings, we never spoke of sex in more than a joking manner. Never more than silly innuendo or risque/obscene comments traded in chat. I remember you telling me late one night, tipsy from drinking with your brother, how if I was there just arms’ length away that you wouldn’t want to control yourself, that you would be all over me in an instant. Despite my usual regard for such statements from others, I laughed sadly to my computer screen and typed only, “I wish.”
It’s been six years since I ‘met’ you through that ex-boyfriend. Six years of hoping, wishing, but never quite believing you were real, that I would ever be able to reach out and touch you.
It’s been two weeks since you casually mentioned over the phone that you had the money for a plane ticket…and you’d be here at my door, ready or not.
It’s been three frantic days of cleaning my apartment, doing laundry, wanting everything to be just so. In the midst of vaccuuming and dusting, I realized that you are here to see me, and you’re not going to check if there’s fingerprints on the countertop or crumbs on the stove.
I’ve been awake since eight this morning, a beautiful sunny Saturday. I showered, shaved my legs, even bothered to use a hairdryer and curling iron. I spent an hour obsessing over applying eyeliner just so, then laughing almost hysterically when it dawns on me that, like the apartment, you’re not going to inspect me for minute flaws.
I’m trying to distract myself on the couch with a book while stealing nervous glances at the clock every two minutes or so. There is a knock on the door and my heart leaps to my throat. I feel numb while walking to the door, not daring to breathe. I watch in a detached fashing while my hand moves to unlock the deadbolt and turn the knob.
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Your blue eyes are full of nervous anticipation, and I see you’re wearing the same impossible-to-suppress grin that I am. I hear a thud as your carryon bag hits the ground, and then I’m in your arms, face pressed against your collarbone, arms wrapped so tight I can scarcely breathe. I can smell your cologne, a dimension I’ve never known before, feel the muscles in your arms quiver slightly with the strength of our embrace.
We don’t speak for a good minute, just stand there in the doorway holding each other like Armageddon has come and we’re the last man and woman alive on the Earth. At last you let go just a little, lean back, and look down at me.
“You’re real,” I giggle, trying to think of something clever to say.
“Yes, sweets,” and I blush a little at the nickname I’ve only heard over the phone, “I’m real.”
“Well,” my voice shakes only a little, “grab your bag and come in.”
Before I can say anything else to break the moment, you raise your hand to my cheek and touch my face as though I were spun glass, fragile, and ready to shatter at too harsh a touch. I breathe in slowly, afraid that I’ll ruin things if I open my mouth again. Before I can breathe out, your lips are on mine, warm and soft and real. I feel your nose bump against mine for just a moment, and remember our joking comments about how my Asian nose won’t get in the way of yours if we ever kissed. I can’t stop my lips from curving upwards at that thought, and I can feel your smile too.
************
It’s two in the morning now, lying here by your side in my twin sized bed. Funny, I’d always thought it was annoying to try and fit two people on a mattress so small I can stretch out my arms and feel air with both hands.
You are just as perfect in slumber as I’d dreamed on countless nights. Earlier though, I think with a self-conscious blush, you were perfect in other ways.
I’d always wondered what it would be like to make love with someone who loved me for real. While an abstracted corner of my mind reminded me that it wasn’t *proper* to be doing such things on the first date, after this many years I don’t know if this quite counts as a first date. Perhaps a long-delayed meeting of bodies?
Your hands were gentle but hungry, your mouth passionate against my body. I’ve always gotten aroused slowly, but tonight I felt like I was on fire from the inside. The feel of your mouth on my breast or your fingers touching my wetness made me hotter for you than ever before. What had started out as a sensual cuddling session on the bed jumped up several degrees when I felt your cock stir against my hip through the fabric of your jeans. I meant to make a joke of it, to laugh it off nervously, but you caught my hand and brought it to your groin. The heat through the fabric was impossible to mistake, as was the way you closed your eyes and moaned quietly when I squeezed that bulge.
Soon our clothes were everywhere on the floor, skin sliding against skin, your hands buried in my hair. I meant to draw things out and tease this first time, but seeing all seven inches of you swollen and throbbing derailed my plans immediately. I wanted to feel you inside of me, make the connection we’ve been dancing around for years.
It hurt a little when you eased inside my dripped wet pussy, but you were as gentle as you could be. Truth told, I didn’t mind the ache that came with stretching me open for you. I was focused on your forehead pressed against mine, eyes locked, pupils dilated in you gorgeous blue eyes. I could smell your arousal, feel the throb of your pulse in the tip of your cock as it slid slowly inside.
This was nothing like the cheap porno I’d seen over the years, bore no resemblance to the steamy, silly romance novels my friends and I secretly read back in high school. Everything about tonight was…intense…in a way I’d never known before.
When you were buried to the balls in my pussy, I wrapped my legs around your hips, loving the way your muscles made a smooth V down towards your cock. The first thrust sent me towards the hungry yearning I’d felt with other guys. Your lips met mine now urgently, our tongues dancing together in a mimicry of the actions going on further down our bodies. The sound of your breath hitching in your throat as you fucked me sweetly filled my consciousness, the little moans and cries of pleasure seeming to pulse in my clit.
You freed an arm from around me and slid your hand over my body, playing with my nipples before going lower. I almost screamed when you dipped a finger between my pussy lips, rubbing the wetness around and all over my clit. I’d touched myself before - and often - but having someone else massaging that nub of pleasure was ecstasy.
It seemed to go on forever, the rocking and thrusting, feeling your cock stretch my pussy wide open, me crying out for more. When I came, I almost didn’t realize what was happening, feeling it start deep inside and bursting all over my body. Your cock seemed even bigger as I rode those waves of pleasure, and you swallowed my moans with your mouth, hand closing tighter on my hips. I felt you cum deep inside of me even as your eyes rolled back and I held you close, waves of my orgasm still tingling in my toes.
We lay there spent for a few minutes before I roused enough to get a towel and clean us off. In your arms I was content as never before, completely satisfied in body as well as heart.
I thought you might have drifted off to sleep, so even was your breathing. But I heard a gentle, Southern-laced voice chuckle quietly in my ear. “I love you, sweets.”
“I love you too.”
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
I found I was grinning in the moonlit darkness. “Oh yes, I did. In fact, I have only one complaint.” He sat up, worried I think, and I couldn’t help but say, “Why did you have to wait six years to try this with me?”
The End
Strangers of the Flesh
“You step down off the streetcar and wonder just what the hell it is you’ve gotten yourself into. Never trust strangers; always meet in a public place; always tell someone where you’ll be. All the fears that come of being a woman, all the lectures, the well-intended advice, the rules - suddenly they all seem to make so much sense! You’ve travelled three hours by bus, to an unknown city, to meet a man more than twice your age and with the full intention of using him to shed your virginity.
He’s told you that he’s sane, he’s told you that if you have second thoughts you can say “Stop!” and will will stop - but he would say that, whether he meant it or not, wouldn’t he?
The streetcar rumbles away, and you double-check the street-sign against the crumpled note you’ve scribbled. You’re at the right stop. Cross the street and then turn right, it’s just a half-block away, he’d told you. You gnaw at your lip, hesitating. The neighbourhood looks rundown, not safe, though there are people on the sidewalk and nobody’s getting mugged.
“Well. I’ve come this far. It’s go on, young Yasmin, or run all the way back home to Kingston.”
You wait for a break in traffic, take a breath, and cross.
The building is long and low. It looks old. You push open the heavy steel door in front, wishing it were glass, an entrance that suggested welcome rather than defence. The vestibule is small and dingy, but cleaner than you’d feared. There’s a long mirror on your left and, neurotically, you check your hair, wonder whether to do undo one more button or to do one more button up. After a moment’s hesitation, you choose the first option; We’ve been talking for months! And if he is a lunatic, one button isn’t going to make much difference!
You turn to the buzzer panel on your right and locate number 105. “Hart, D,” reads a tilted sign beside the number. You take another breath - This is your last chance to back out, Yas! - then press it. After a brief moment, through an ancient electronic crackle you hear a voice calling something like, “Come on in!” and the door buzzes. You pull it open and step through.
Again, what you see is better than you had feared, not as good as you had hoped. A staircase rises to your right. Straight ahead, a long, dimly-lit hallway beckons. The carpeting is worn, but clean and you will your feet to move, to carry you toward your destiny. The over-wrought term makes you giggle and so serves to ease your nerves, if only a little.
You are about halfway down the hall when a door opens ahead of you. A head peaks out, followed, with a strange delay, by a body. Dark suit, pin-stripes, you realize in the dim light. He waves, then simply stands and watches you as you approach.
He smiles softly. “Yasmin. Welcome.” He reaches for your back with his right hand, lays his left upon your hip and guides you through the door, lightly brushing the back of your skirt as he releases you and turns to close - and lock - the door. The sound of the click is ominous, though you realize the mechanism does not require a key from the inside.
His apartment is dimly lit. Candles flicker on the counter which separates the kitchen from a large living room. Low music, not quite jazz, not quite funk, plays from somewhere beyond the light. A long couch lines the far wall, a love-seat sits below the small window. There are painting on the wall, but it is too dark to see much of them.
“Now” - you’d almost forgotten you weren’t alone; the slow-moving bass, the flickering light; your own disbelief in what you’ve dared, have conspired to lull you into a momentary belief this is just a dream of daring, rather than the real thing. David’s hands on your shoulders dissolve the illusion like a mirage. “Now, let me look at you.”
He holds you gently but firmly, turning you so that you shuffle clockwise until you are facing him. For a moment he simply looks at you, staring into your eyes.
He’s not the man you’d fantasized about. Of course he’s not. Not as tall, not as dashingly handsome, not an English nobleman. But there’s a friendly knowingness in his smile when he finally offers you it, and his eyes betray - maybe - at least some of the tension you’re feeling. He doesn’t look forty-three, but you remember he told he people usually think he’s 30 and you smile inside at the lies people will believe about themselves.
“Usually when I have guests, the first thing I do is offer them a drink.”
“But now?”
He draws his right hand slowly the side of your throat, then along your cheek. His left hand too now leaves its perch on your shoulder, to glide down your arm, fingers spread wide, and comes to rest with his thumb just next to your nipple, not quite touching it.
“But now I think we need a different kind of ice-breaker, young Yasmin.”
And he leans slowly toward you until his mouth is only an inch - a centimetre - from yours. “A better kind.” He busses your lips, just a hint of contact at first. Then he kisses your upper lip, holds it; and your lower, holds it between his just a little longer. His thumb starts to draw small circles on your breast, brushing the base of your nipple, a teasing, intermittent movement. You begin to wonder if he too is afraid, if he does not after all know what to do, or when he wants.
As if hearing your doubt, he kisses you full on the lips. Not hard, but insistently. His tongue pushes between his parted lips and begins to stroke yours in delicate, horizontal dabs, as if begging admittance rather than demanding it. You open your mouth, but only a little. Doesn’t he want me more than that?
As if in answer, his right hand takes hold of the back of your head. He presses his mouth against yours and his tongue, once a feather, is now a blunt spear. His teeth nip at your lips, and his free hand holds your breast fully in his palm. He squeezes it almost cruelly, sinking his fingers deep into your flesh.
He kisses you hungrily now, and drops his hand to your back then, without breaking contact with your mouth, forces your body round and backs you against the door. His right hand has found your ass, and he strokes and squeezes you in some complex rhythmic counterpoint to the motions of his mouth, his hand on your breast, fingers that have found your nipple and are, alternately, stroking and squeezing it. He presses himself against you. His penis is hard, straining against his pants, as if to escape - or as if it wants to be free to hunt for you.
He pulls from your mouth and kisses your bare throat, sometimes nipping, sometimes almost sucking, sometimes just drawing his tongue along your flesh as if each pore provides a new taste, a new and delightful texture.
You wrap your arms around him, you scrabbled beneath his jack and pull his shirt from the waist of his pants. “I can wait for a drink,” you whisper.
“Good girl,” he says and you find his skin at last. His back is smooth and warm, his skin is firm and at first you simply explore it with your palms, running circles up and down on either side of his spine, even as his hands are now both upon your hips and, in tandem, sliding down your legs, seeking the hem of your skirt, then slipping beneath it to rise again, his palms now touching your bare skin.
You gasp when you feel his fingers take hold of the waist-band of your panties. Is this it? Is he just going to fuck me standing against his front door? Yet you don’t struggle as he crouches, face now pressing against your crotch, only your thin skirt between it and your pussy, which - despite your doubts - is already nearly overflowing with your anticipation. He pulls your undergarment down to your ankles, then takes your calf in his hands, lifts yours foot and gently sets in on the bare floor, the repeats the process with the other.
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“You won’t be needing these again until you leave.” Grinning, the small garment dangles from his hand. He takes a single step back, leans in quickly, kisses your nose, then nearly pirouettes before he tosses it onto the counter. “Would you like something to drink? Something to eat?”
Even in the dim light you see that his penis is as hard as it was when he pressed it against you. And your body is just as aroused: your slit is moist, your nipples engorged, your heart beating as fast as if you’d run up a few flights of stairs.
“It’s not going anywhere, is it?”
His smile widens and he shakes his head. “Come into my parlour then, young lady.” He offers his hand, pulls you towards him then steps behind you when you acquiesce. He drops your hand and steers you by your hips toward the closed door that conceals his bedroom.
A wall of books faces the door. Candles, already lit, cast multiple shadows. David bids you stop in the centre of the room, he turns you around, then drop his hands from your hips. “Kneel.”
You look at him, mouth open, hesitating. He takes a half-step toward you. “Kneel.”
“Is this like that bad born you’re always complaining about?”
He smiles; you think he suppresses a laugh. “You should know me better than that.”
“I don’t know you at all. It’s all been words and mirrors thus far; they might all have been no more than internet lies so far as I know.”
“And yet, here you are, about to be ravaged in a stranger’s room.”
Ravaged? “No, not really strangers,” you whisper hastily, as if hoping that saying it will make it so. “We’ve shared our words and our thoughts for months; we’re only strangers of the flesh.”
“Maybe so.” He takes off his glasses, folds the arms, turns to place them on a low shelf beside the door behind him, then returns his attentions to you.
“Now kneel, Yasmin. We’ll not be strangers of the flesh much longer.” He reaches down and undoes the clasp of this trousers. His cock bulges along his thigh, “It’s for your own good.” His voice is affectless; you could read in it threat or boredom, you cannot tell.
“And if I don’t?”
“You don’t want to find out.”
Your heart beats harder; an acid fear washes through your belly. He said he would stop if I said “No”! Torn between your fears and your desire, you consider calling a halt to this … experiment. And yet, you fear that he will stop almost as much as you fear that he won’t.
You bow your head and kneel.
He steps forward. His crotch hovers less than an arms’ length from your face. “Start with the shoes.” You glance up. Shoes!? “Untie them. Then. Take them off. Simple, really.”
You obey. You undo his laces, the pull the shoes from his feet.
“Now the socks. Just pull them down and toss them aside.”
Okay. Socks. This isn’t quite what I had in mind, but what the hell. He never told me he had a foot fetish …
As you pull down the second sock, you hear the rip of a zipper descending. When you look up, his penis thrusts from the open fly. From so close and from such an angle, it looks even larger than its over seven inch length.
Though you’ve never before touched a cock, you’ve watched enough porn: you know what to do. You reach for it, now more curious than aroused. But he grabs your wrist. “Pants first.” You look at him, to make sure you understand what he wants. He nods, and you pull his slacks to his ankles. He steps from them, then lifts your hand again.
“Just hold it a moment, get to know it a little.” Gently, as if you might break it, you wrap your fingers around it. It’s warm and dry, firm but giving on the inside, only skin on the outside. “I’m going to fuck you, Yasmin. I’m going to fuck you with this.” He drops his hand to the top of your head, strokes your hair, then gently eases you towards his cock. “I want you to get to know it,” he says softly, as the mushroom-cap head brushes your lips. You don’t need to be told what to do. You open your mouth and jerk forward, but he pulls you back, tugging on the hair you now realize he has taken well in hand.
“Slowly, Yasmin. Just a taste, for now.” He pulls your hand from his shaft, replaces it with his own. He lifts it toward you mouth and you take the head his penis between your lips. “Watch the teeth.” He presses is deeper inside. You feel the head bump along the roof of your mouth, then tickle the back of it. You start to worry about your gag-reflex. Your hair is wrapped round his fingers like reins; it would hurt if you forced yourself free.
But he stops pushing. “Do you like that, Yasmin.”
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You nod, Yes! and his cock slips from your mouth. Such a strange pleasure, such an odd intimacy. You smile, eyes downcast and staring at the floor. “Yes, I liked that, David.”
He lets go of your hair and bends to help you to your feet. He pulls you to him and kisses you, deeply but tenderly, his tongue stroking those places his penis had just been, as if exploring for damages.
When he pulls away he says, “Come on,” and guides you to the futon. “That’s it, just lie down, on your stomach.” As stretch yourself out, you hear him remove the rest of his clothing, then feel him join you on the mattress. He kneels by your feet, his knees on either side of your bare calves.
He takes one foot in hand, digs his thumbs into your sole, rubs and tugs your toes, then moves on to pleasure your other foot. And then moves past your feet, stoking your ankles, kneading the muscles and caressing the flesh of your calves. He slides his hands beneath your skirt and works on your thighs, outside and in, forcing you to part your legs a little. He takes your buttocks in hand, he twists and mashes your flesh, gradually working lower so that his thumbs push once more between your legs to briefly brush your labia, a tantalizing promise of pleasures to come, before he reverses course and once more works on your ass.
After a time, he takes hold of your skirt and quickly slides it down your legs and past your feet. He returns to straddle your waist. His cock now rests between the cheeks of your ass, a warm and heavy weight against your skin.
“You’ll have to lose that shirt,” he says, and he drapes himself upon you. He reaches around and beneath you, his cock now pressing between your legs, and struggles to undo those buttons that haven’t already been dislodged.
Once free, he pushes the hem of your shirt up to your shoulders and massages your your back slowly circling up to your shoulders, then your and neck. He stretches across you like a blanket, his cock now a hot muscle high between your thighs. His palms gently stroke your temples and cheeks.
And then his movements stop. He kisses your throat and whispers, “Turn over,” raises himself just enough to give you room to move. You roll onto your back beneath him. He straddles your waist again and his his cock lies on your belly like an offering.
He cups your cheeks and gently strokes your face and circles your temples. He brushes his thumbs over your eyelids. He bends to kiss you briefly on the mouth, then rubs your neck. You can feel his hands start to tremble, you can sense his growing excitement, his impatience, his desire. His rhythm speeds up as his hands approach your breasts.
He spreads his fingers wide and takes one in each hand, stroking them, squeezing them, testing your limits, seeking to understand your body’s pleasure. He leans in and takes one nipple, then the other, in his mouth, sucking you, nibbling you, biting you.
When he rises from your mounds, he rakes his nails along your belly, his mouth following along behind, tasting your flesh between the twin tracks his nails so harshly laid.
And soon he mouth has descended past your navel, and his hands grip your hips firmly. He buries his face between your legs.
Hi tonger slides along your slit, up and down and with ever increasing pressure. He pushes deeper and your cunt’s juice spill out. You entire body quivers, and quivers again when he closes his lips around your clit, tugs and releases it, then descends upon it again, this time testing you with his teeth.
You reach for him, take his head in your palms and push him against you. He responds by once more pushing into you with his tongue, now plunging it deep between lips. You begin to shudder and he digs his hands into your buttocks in time with your body’s own motions, until your body spams and you clench your legs, forcing him to pull his head away from you.
He sits up, lays a hand upon your breast and gently squeezes it. You open your eyes and he flashes you a smile. Then, without a word, but reaches for a condom, unwraps it and tosses the packaging to the side.
Slowly, as if it were a ritual, he unrolls the condom over his cock. He grins at you in the candle-light. “Now it’s my turn.”
And he spreads your legs and brushes your mons with his, then your very cunt, rubbing it up and down along the gates of your wet pussy. Slowly, he presses himself against your portal and begins to ease himself inside you, his cock so much larger than his tongue.
Bit by bit, your walls resist, then yield, and he begins to push harder. His slow but steady advance, becomes an ever-faster series of thrust and retreat, thrust and retreat. His find your breasts again, and now work on them in time to that of his cock as thrusts deep inside you. Your nerves fire from a thousand stimuli, and when he takes your left nipple in his mouth, freeing his hand to find your clit, your entire body spasms, in such a way as to make your first orgasm seem like only a pale dream of the real thing. You howl in joyful triumph, even as you shudder again, and again, and again.
Now his hand falls from your clit. He takes you hard by the waist and fucks you like an animal, all thought for your pleasure forgotten. His cock hammers like piston inside you, pounding in and out, in and out, until, suddenly, he shudders and you know that he too has come.
For a moment, but for two pounding hearts and four gasping lungs, there is stillness. Spent, his cock is still hard, still inside you. You are sweating, as he is, two exhausted animals in the night.
At last, as if through an effort of will, he reaches down and, carefully, pulls himself from you, slips the cum-laden condom from himself, then rolls off you and collapses at your side.
He lays a hand on your breast and kisses your cheek. “If it’s all the same to you, I can wait on the blow-job until after we eat.”
The End
The Spy who Fucked Me
I can’t tell you my name, but if you’d probably recognize me if you’ve picked up a copy of The Wall Street Journal in the past three years. I’m the CEO of a large Midwestern company. Thousands depend on me for their paychecks. Millions rely on me to stock grocery stores with toilet paper and 10 brands of breakfast cereal. A few words from me to the right people can send stocks soaring or plunging for days.
I’m also a sex-addicted cross-dresser.
Nothing gets me off like public humiliation. I love strapping on a bra and then rushing to an adult bookstore to meet strangers for sex. We usually don’t even make it to a hotel. I suck them off out in the parking lot.
I recently went out in full drag in Portland, Oregon. I wore a red, low-cut, dress over a lacy black bra and panties. I wasn’t even close to passable as a woman, so I drew some attention, even in a porn shop. But I quickly found a couple of guys who were looking for a third. We went back to their house. They introduced me to “finger cuffs.” I got in the doggy-style position so one could fuck me up the ass, while the other jammed his cock in my face. One guy’s girlfriend watched while fucking herself with a vibrator.
I know powerful men need to be careful with their sexual appetites. No one needs to remind me of what happened to Eliot Spitzer or Larry Craig. No doubt my competition would love a few snapshots of me in a cute miniskirt. But I can’t help myself. When the urge to cross-dress hits, I’m driven by forces beyond reason. It doesn’t yield until my cock explodes.
I always knew getting caught was a risk, but it never sunk in until the nightmare came true. Nothing could’ve had a more profound affect on my sex life.
It all started when my secretary, Lois, rang my phone on the Monday morning after the Portland trip. I was in my penthouse office overlooking the park. My desk was covered with legal documents as I struggled to make sense of a hostile takeover I was considering.
Lois called from her desk in the outer office.
“Hello, sir,” she said. “A Ms. Julia Hunter is here and says she’d like to see you.”
“Never heard of her,” I said. “Does she have an appointment?”
“No,” Lois said.
“Ask her what she wants,” I said, “and have her make an appointment with one of the department heads.”
“Yes, sir,” Lois said.
I hung up the phone. Not a minute later, it rang again.
“Yes, Lois. What is it?” I asked.
“Sorry to bother you, sir,” she said. “But Ms. Hunter insisted that I call you back. She said she knows about the Portland bookstore.”
My stomach leaped into my throat. I dropped the folder I’d been perusing. My mind searched for an explanation. Who could’ve known? Certainly, the two guys I fucked. But who would they tell? The answers wouldn’t come.
“Sir? Are you there?” Lois asked.
My mind snapped back into action.
“Yes, yes,” I said. “Did she say anything else?”
“She wouldn’t elaborate,” Lois said.
“That’s fine, Lois,” I said. “Go ahead and show her in.”
When Lois opened my door, the most amazing red-head came swaying in. Never have I seen a woman make a plain, gray business suit look so sexy. She had huge tits that bounced as she walked with a black brief case in her hand. Her eyes locked onto mine. This woman was all business.
I did my best to play it cool. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years climbing the corporate ladder, it’s that you can never let the opposition see you sweat.
“What can I do for your, Ms. Hunter?” I said, while leaning back in my fat, leather chair.
Without invitation, she took a seat in a chair on the other side of my desk. Her skirt slid up her leg as she sat, revealing the lacy top of her white, thigh high stocking.
“Tell your secretary to leave,” Ms. Hunter said. “You’re going to want to discuss this in private.”
I nodded at Lois.
“It’s OK,” I said.
Lois closed the door.
“OK,” I said. “You’ve got my attention. Who are you? And what’s this about?”
Ms. Hunter flipped open the latches on her brief case. She opened it and pulled a business card out of a side pocket.
“Julia Hunter, private investigator,” she said, while handing me the card. “One of your competitors hired me to learn what you do in your spare time.”
“You’ve been spying on me?” I asked.
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