The Feather Duster
Hair tussled in a fashion that dictates seduction. Glitter pins softly placed where his fingers can easily pull them out upon desiring freedom with me. Headband wide with little hints of sparkle sit atop my glittered pinned hair that he will no doubt notice upon entering the home this evening.
Eyes traveling, I enjoy his heated stare at my very short, yet tailored black fitted skirt and white ruffles underneath. All this feminine lure is tied with a wide banded apron and pronounced bowlike on my waist over my behind and maid like short skirt. I am wearing a white blouse; see through shear with a push-up French bra that exposes my erect nipples completely.
Discovering his manly shaft growing by the developed tightness in his slacks, I relish in the pleasure that he is lusting the thought of touching me all over. I notice that his eyes travel down my sexy body to the black meshed seemed hose and garters that cover my tiny thong string panty that he knows is drenched by now! Finishing touches are the spiked high black heels with maid-like bows that are on my pampered manicured feet he absolutely adores.
After he excitedly consumes all of my standing feminine seduction, he ventures over for a touching embrace. I look at him and suggest that he let me finish my chores while he unwinds some from the drive home! He steps back and smiles and turns upstairs to change.
I am bustling all over the place with a feather duster in hand. I am humming while dusting; making my teasing presence known. Reaching the top of the stairs I see him looking at me with the eyes of a tiger in heat.
I make sure to pass him and bend over to reach one of the feathers that dusted away from me while cleaning. How wonderful to feel his energy all over me as he walks over and places his arms around my waist; pulling me closer to him. He kisses my neck in that special spot that makes me tingle below for him to continue. He drenches my ear with a moist wetness along with a furrowed breathing that takes me over and has me in a state of total surrender and desirable frenzy.
I have contemplated this scenario since this afternoon. This excitement has placed me in a melting state of mind. I am forbidden to touch myself and my body before surprise scenarios or events we plan together. This heightened pleasure zone I am in has me wanting and deliciously anticipating his touch.
Placing his arms on my waist, he unties my apron bow and turns my body to face him. He kisses me. My erect nipples projecting through my shirt. He only has to look at them, lick them gently and I will squirm in delight. Unbuttoning my blouse slowly; one button at a time; he sees my body yearning for him. Again he licks gently with his tongue now, circling just enough to tease me. I am moaning quietly. He circles each nipple again; slowly and nibbles with a tiny bite. The nibbling, sucking, flicking with his finger is driving me insane with desire for more!
Rubbing my entire body with his hands and careful never to touch any areas of seductive thirst or entry; he takes his time exploring my legs, arms, neck, hair, and curvy butt. He has this way of making me feel so sexy by the way he studies me with his eyes as he carefully gazes, grazes, and touches me lightly.
Feeling his manhood rubbing my backside makes me wetter than wet; and wildly wanting him! My mind is begging for him to make me his treasure once more.
I am putty in his hands. I am in a melting moment of anticipating bliss. He has an inviting energy that captivates me like no other has before. He intuitively knows how to handle me.
It is this dance I want forever! I am sensually dusted as he softly caresses by body; touched and teasingly feathered by his heart; completely lost in his mind; and sexually devoured and polished by his manhood. I am special. I feel it. I intuitively know it. I am his.
The End
The Good Girl
It was September 5th, the first day of her senior year, 5 am. Morgana Felicity Avingone, or Morgan for short, had turned 18 just a week earlier and awoke in a drowsy state that normally accompanies 5am. It was still warm out and as she stretched attempting to open her eyes to greet the morning sun, her pajamas pulled against her supple young body. She smiled, knowing what day it was and turning off the alarm that she so gently arose to. It was time for a quick swim before school. It always woke her up that much quicker.
Morgan was the single daughter of Michael and Mary Avingone, a French/Mediterranean descent 3rd generation American family, whom were of old money, and made lucky choices in the stocks for placing their money. She had slipped out of her bed, pajamas and into her suit quickly, sliding down to the fitness level of the dormitory. Her fitting one piece bathing suit showed off her body well, and rubbed lightly under her knee length robe, it was the tightest piece of clothing that she had. It was always a little cooler in the dorms at night, the headmistress saw to that, keeping the dorms well maintained with an expensive environmental system. No matter what time of year it was it was always 63 degrees at night and 72 degrees during the day. Morgan’s parents were well to do in the community and in life, and had sent her away to the same boarding school her mother had attended, which happened to be located in northern New Jersey. As her classmates slept in their beds ticking off the few more moments they had until their own alarms would go off, Morgan quietly crept past them down the stairs to the pool outside. She always said a little prayer of thanks for being there as she past them.
100 quick laps before she had to be at morning service and meal. Morgan loved to swim, almost as much as she loved to pray. Her parents had seen to her having a good fitness program every day of her life since she started swimming back when she was 4 years old. They also saw to her modesty, morals and beliefs to be in line with the highest catholic standards; Questioningly tolerant, silently bigotus, and unquestioningly modest. They were reinforced by her daily services at boarding school, only to be refreshed by Morgan’s own resolve. She dove into the water as she does every morning thinking to herself the Hail Mary.
She would repeat the Hail Mary and the Lord’s Prayer every morning and had done so since she first discovered her body. Morgan was both prideful of her looks and ashamed of the lust that escaped from between her legs every night. Like clockwork, since she was old enough to realize she was female, she masturbated nightly, woke every morning at 5am and swam her repentance for the previous night’s sin. Every night she would succumb to her body’s lust, dipping her fingers past the point of no return that was the elastic of her waist band, past the forest of her dark mound of pussy hair, and diving into the burning, soaked flesh that was her pussy. Morgan tried as she could to quell the scorpion of her sex, but every night when she was alone it would return to torment her to sleep. So ashamed of herself, she would always bite the pillows, her tongue, her lip anything she could find, to stiffel her moans from her roommate, as she could never let it escape that her closeness to god was tainted by the sin of lust.
Each stroke in the morning, the water’s caress against her skin, as she prayed into her blue confessional, would remind her of how she fell into the devil’s grip the night before. As soon as she would close the door to her small room, she would pull at the firm nipples atop her full heaving breasts, caress her soft taught skin, and bite at her tongue to stifle her whorish moans. Morgan pushed faster into the water, as she felt herself being turned on yet again by the thoughts that coursed through her mind. Screaming into the water “Hail MARY FULL OF GRACE…*gasp*… THE LORD IS WITH YOU…*gasp*… BLESSED ART THOU…” but it went on like this until she began to loose count of her strokes, her laps, even the time she spent in the water. Her thoughts were torn between the pleasure she gave herself and her self-inflicted modesty. Night after night she would wet the sheets of her bed by orgasming over and over again until her lust was satiated by exhaustion, fingering her flaming cunt for two sometimes three hours a night, and spending the morning in repentance with her the pool and God.
“GIVE US THIS DAY… ooohhhhhhhh….” She moaned as she came, the water’s fast flow stimulating her clit just enough despite the bathing suit and thick hair that surrounded her denied sex. She tried to catch her breath but the waves of pleasure were washing against her as her own current caught up to her and washed against her back.
“Morgan, don’t be late for early bell now it’s nearly 6am, you still got to eat breakfast!” “Thanks Delilah, I’m done now…” Morgan hadn’t noticed that she had swam nearly 3 kilometers this morning in her feverent rush. Pulling herself out of the pool, her toned legs carried her well back up to her room where she showered and put on her uniform for school. The sounds of alarms had invaded the stone walls to her room as he pulled up the white cotton panties over her still burning pussy, trying desperately to ignore it’s cries to be touched. The broad fabric C cups of her bra pulled her breasts tightly back against her chest, pushing her erect nipples back into her own soft flesh. Firm and taut, it slightly pained her every time she put the bra on, but pain she felt was just a part of her redemption.
Over that her blouse and stockings came, covering more of her shapely body, so young and already so fit. Next came the long skirt and penny loafer shoes. She particularly liked the skirt, and prided herself for how long and thick the material was, every year she sought the longest heaviest material, and even one year lengthened her skirt to cover up her legs. It always came past down to the mid calf, and unruffled it was nearly a full meter and a half of material. It hid her figure well. As Morgan sat before her mirror braiding her long dark hair back into it’s familiar thick ponytail, she smiled at herself, smiling at her modest appearance and her lack of need for makeup. Her morning routine had finally calmed the familiar cries of sexual gratification she so scorned in her life, and she happily came down the stairs to the kitchen where mother superior and the other girls were finishing breakfast.
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“You did it again didn’t you Morgan?”
“Shush you, I won’t dare speak of it.”
“Oh I heard you last night…”
“Delilah, you didn’t!” Morgan exclaimed, blessing herself with the sign of the cross as she began to dive herself back into prayer.
“Oh will you stop it morgan, I didn’t hear anything. I don’t know what it is your hiding, but whatever it is I hope it’s worth all the praying and laps in the pool.”
“Now that’s just not nice, you know I like my privacy.” Morgan looked up at her friend with disdain. To everyone observing it was directed towards her friend’s petty joke. To Morgan it was directed to a more local target.
“I know I know.” Delilah had taken a quick bite of her dry toast and smiled towards her best friend. Delilah and Morgan had met only when each had come to stay at the boarding school. They were the best of friends, but you could never have more polar opposites. Delilah’s short red hair always had too much product in it, enough to impale small birds and insects, which found attraction in the chemically induced sweet scent. Despite the myriad of punishments and penances that Delilah had to undergo, she still was a wild child at heart. Speaking her mind about all sorts of subjects, openly questioning the doctrine of the church; the Headmistress thought it would be a good idea to have her room with the most devout of young ladies, and thus Morgan and Delilah became good friends.
It would be their influence on one another that would change their lives forever.
“So I’m sneaking out tonight and I want you to come.”
“Delilah, No! You know we aren’t allowed out of the dorms without a chaperone.”
“Yeah but this time I’ve got a full proof plan, we will be back before anyone notices.”
“We can’t sneak out after 10pm bed check, that’s just lying.”
“Oh so you are a quick one aren’t you, and here I was thinking you didn’t have a mind for this sort of thing.”
“Delilah, stop it. I won’t go through with it.” One of the nuns walked by with her watchful eye gazing over the two young ladies, Delilah smiled and curtsied a bit in her seat. She loved so to incite the suspicions of the women she called their ‘captures.’
“Listen, it’s for our own good, how can we know what the true path of God is if we don’t try a little bit of everything.”
“Because it’s wrong, Delilah, and doing bad things leads to a life of sin and away from God.”
“But, God gave us free will didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Morgan felt her friend was right, but sipped her unsweetened black tea with closed eyes.
“And it’s God’s will to exercise that free will, right?”
“Yes…, what’s your point.”
“My point is that it’s not much of a free willed choice if we don’t know all the choices we have.”
“I’m not breaking any rules though, the semester just started.” Morgan and Delilah sat in silence for a few moments, as Priest Joseph Guarda, a traveling missionary from a third world country approached the pulpit, to welcome the students to a new year of school
“I didn’t want to have to do this to you, but you leave me no choice then.” Delilah leaned in closer to her friend, her warm breath washing over Morgan’s ear. Everyone else had already stood up, at the request of Priest Guarda, but as Morgan attempted to rise with her fellow students a soft hand from her best friend landed on her thigh pinning her to the seat.
“If you don’t I’ll tell the head mistress that you’ve been ever so distressed every night that you lock yourself up and don’t come out till morning.”
Morgan could feel her pussy soak right into her panties, a wetness that wouldn’t fade during the day unless she took action soon. She secretly cursed herself but knew she had to give in, and get away from Delilah soon. The hand on her thigh felt so wrong, her confusions came rushing back to her, and she panicked for a way to stop the ocean of lust that was being guided by doubt’s controlling staff. “Alright… I’ll do it… but if we get in trouble I’m going to say you threatened me, and so help me we won’t be friends any more… " Morgan bit her lip, and Delilah knew that all it ever took to get Morgan past her doubts was just the slightest little touch.
The two quickly stood and joined the rest of the congregation in the Lord’s Prayer.
***
As soon as the morning meal’s prayer was finished, Morgan quickly stole away from everyone else and locked herself I the bathroom. Her cunt was burning with desire, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to get through the day. Hiking up the heavy material of her skirt, and not even wasting the time to sit nor pull her panties down neatly, she thrust the material aside and shoved three fingers past the fur that surrounded her twat. Fingering herself furiously, her young deft hands had not taken the time to find their way to her clit, but instead were pistoning in and out of her throbbing hole, the hair around her pussy matted with the wetness from the initial gush.
Morgan’s teeth were pressing into her tongue this time, she needed pain to stifle the moans. She bit fairly hard, trying to keep herself from giving in completely to her lust. Her fingers were soaked, and the small puddle beneath her spread legs as she held herself up on the wall of the bathroom stall was growing. Each drop, fell away from her as did her resolve. A tear ran down her cheek as she could hear herself release throaty whorish moans, her fingers moving rapidly within her milking her cunt for all the sex it could deliver. She looked up at the florescent light in the ceiling, throwing herself into the pain of her lips and the stretching that her fingers so roughly forced into her caused.
Her eyes welled with tears as she thanked God for her orgasm, expanding the puddle at her feet and soaking her socks down to her penny loafers as her wetness trailed down her leggings. Then she cursed herself and begged for forgiveness as she fell upon her knees, knowing she had succumbed to the lust yet again. The heavy cotton of her skirt sopped up some of the cum she had just covered the floor in and her hands did nothing but direct the tears from her eyes to her blouse. Pulling her hands away from her sobbing eyes she realized her fingers were covered in blood and the tears began again.
“I’m nothing more than a heathen.” She sobbed to herself in the mirror trying to wash the red spots away from her hands, tears mixing with the water washing her sins away.
It was around this time that the Gym Teacher, a Miss Argento, whom everyone called Miss A for short had overheard the sobbing coming from the wash room. It was about an hour before her first class of the day, and Miss A had plenty of time before she needed to be there, so she investigated. Miss A opened the door to see Morgan frantically washing her hands in the sink, seeing the last remnants of red wash down the drain.
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“Is everything ok, Morgan?”
“Everything is just fine Coach A. I just had a little cut that’s all.”
“Well let me see, I can’t have my star swimmer injured now, or out of the lists at the beginning of the season because of an infection.” Morgan thought about it and wiped her face again, raising her right hand to her coach’s eye level. “See it’s already closed up, it was just a little scratch.”
“That was a lot of blood to be just a little scratch.” Miss A, knew Morgan’s body well, she had made sure to keep it in top shape for four years. She looked over the hand and held it up with a little smile, knowing that something was still amiss. As Morgan took her hand back, Miss A noticed the small puddle on the floor and the red that seemed mixed with the clear liquid, “Are you having womanly issues.”
“Yes, that’s it Coach A, you caught me.” Morgan tried to smile, which wasn’t too had since her coach just gave her the excuse she needed to hide her secret. “My period just started, and I wasn’t ready for it, I kinda freaked out. You know I hate the sight of blood.”
“Well, if you don’t have a pad come by my office and I’ll be more than happy to give you one, ok, I’ll let you finish up here and I’ll let maintenance know they need to clean the floor. Nothing to worry about, it’s not a Cardinal Sin to have a little loss of self control sometimes.”
“Ok, Coach, but I’ve got plenty back at my dorm. Thank, you.” Morgan punctuated it with a smile, trying to hide her shame at nearly being caught. As Miss A left the room, Morgan had already begun chastising herself, cursing her vagina, and wishing she hadn’t been born. It was like this almost every day. As soon as she was turned on, even in the slightest she would have to run away to the bathroom or somewhere private and get it back under control. She hated herself for it and continued to curse herself as she snuck back to her dorm room, trying to keep from the noticing eye of her class mates.
“Dammit, Dammit, DAMMIT” She spoke aloud sitting at her desk in the room. She locked herself back in the tiny bedroom and removed her soiled clothes. Sitting naked on her bed she began to sob once more. Morgan felt she hadn’t been punished enough, and that Miss A’s near discovery of her secret was a sign from God that she was too careless again. She had to be punished once more, or the demon may escape again. She slowly opened the drawer of her night table, and removed a 15 inch, metric and standard, old wooden ruler. She held it in her hands as an Athame to a Priestess, for it held just as much power.
Whenever Morgan slipped up, or was almost discovered, she felt she needed to be punished, corporally. She always felt it was in addition to the penance she served every morning, the good grades she fought so hard for, and her skill at swimming, all things she did to serve God better. Delilah’s teasing earlier that morning had already made her consider the additional punishment, but Miss A’s intrusion closed the deal. “Ten swats, for my weakness.”
Stripping back to the nude, she released her breasts from their prison, and stood wearing only the dark hair on her head, still back behind her in a long thick pony tail, the hair over her vagina, the leggings over her mid thigh, and the penny loafers at her feet. Morgan made sure to lock the door, and sat on the edge of her bed, spreading her thighs wide. She had found a small bundled pair of socks and placed it between her teeth as she looked at herself in the mirror across from her bed and then up to the crucifix over that. The first swat of the ruler came down across her thigh.
“One, forgive me God.” She moaned into the sock, tears welling up in her eyes once more, as she had felt her breasts and pussy swell with the sight of her own naked body. The pain flooded out from the strike to her thigh, and she knew the redness would dissipate by the time she had practice that evening.
“TWO, forgive me God.” The next swat came again, and she stared at her body, ashamed of her lack of control as she watched her pussy flood the sheets beneath her again. The thick bush from before beginning to show signs of catching the fluid that flowed from the lips between her legs.
“Three, Forgive me God.” Another moan and another flood, two swats to either thigh, and now a swat to her near perfect left breast. The pain radiating out, cleared her mind of the lust, as her nipples were straining against her chest, they were so hard.
“Four, forgive Me God.” She slapped the long ruler to her other breast, breathing heavily now, as her pulse rocketed up another notch. Her focus was intense and she thought the look of herself in the mirror was begging for the lust to leave her. Morgan didn’t realize her eyes were begging for the next swat.
Her gaze broke with it’self as her eyes rolled back into her head, moaning into the sock gag, “Five, forgive me LORD.” The latest attack was against her taut abs, as her pussy soaked and her heavy breaths drew her nipples against the cool air of the tiny bedroom. The crisp forced air was a gentle caress against her engorged tits, as the next swat came down across her clit, sending Morgan into a pain spiral, her mind mixing all of her thoughts into one pleasurable moment that streaked tears from her eyes, moans from her throat, and a forceful gush from her sex.
“Six, FORGIVE ME LORD!” She finally mustered past her tears as she dropped the gag from her mouth and drew deeply into her breath. Her holy relic, came down across her clit once again. So distressed from her deep rooted confusion, Morgan slid to her knees before the mirror, looking at the whore that lived within her body. Morgan couldn’t have possibly realized that with each slap of the ruler she wasn’t exorcising the harlot demon she thought she was, she was bringing herself to orgasm each time. The carpet, bed sheets, shower stalls, toilet bowls, and serenely clean water of the pool, had always taken pity upon her and hid well the evidence of her body’s pleasure at her pain.
Incoherently, she continued to orgasm, taking every last ounce of her will to stifle the moans that escaped her throat. Morgan kept them held within her cheeks, as the tears reached her swelling breasts, red from the onslaught, just passing by on their way to her thighs, which of course were still sensitive to the touch from their chastisement. Ten, forceful orgasms in quick succession, and her body could take no more, she felt her sex satiated finally, and crawl away from her mind.
Catching her breath Morgan stood up and undid the ponytail, beginning to brush it out, as she glanced at the clock. “Fifteen minutes till class… I’d … better get… ready…” She continued to pant as she brushed out the long dark hair that was wet with sweat. She picked up the ruler, lying dormant on the floor by the round wet patch of carpet where she had disciplined herself and re-placed it in the drawer, accompanied by only two other objects. A small black book and a silver and gold pen. She picked the two up, both were going away presents from her mother and father, for her to write down the experiences she had at Boarding school. Instead were a column for dates, a column for times, and a column for a number. Each in sequence one after the other. She flipped through the pages until she found the entry from only two weeks prior, and began to write beneath it.
“September 5th 2008, 8:45am, 10” had found its self beneath, a lengthy string of comparable entries.
The End
Release
Her body arched upwards as his lips sapped at the nape of her neck, his tongue a fluid motion over her skin. He kissed and licked his way lower, taking in everything as he went. Her body jerked as he wound his way over the supple mounds of her breast. Kissing and teasing a small spot, getting lower and lower and lower. Finally after what seemed and eternity, she felt his hot breath against the sensitive nub of her nipple, like a whisper of a touch his tongue snaked out and caressed its tip, then suddenly his entire mouth closed around it and she felt a sudden pleasurable tug of his mouth sucking gently on her.
Her body pushed forward instinctively, wanting to push…no, needing to give as much of herself to him as she possibly could, she felt his tongue dance across her nipple and around her electrified areola. Faster and faster, the tapping dance of his tongue as it darted back and forth across the tip, her body tensed and stiffened one moment, grew soft and pliable the next. Deep inside she felt a tremendous stirring, it reacted to every motion he made, when his hands slid across her skin she felt a spark shoot up upwards following in his wake, when his body moved atop hers, she felt herself open, accepting him entirely, his hand streaked across her inner thigh and the same jolt ran with it, still his mouth clung to her breast, suckling, tasting and draining all limitations from her body.
His mouth moved across her body and she inhaled deeply as he suckled the other breast into his mouth, he was gentle at first but he became increasingly urgent in his ministrations. Sucking harder, his lips pulling her nipple, stretching it, then when it popped from between his lips his mouth sunk down upon her again. Her lips formed a trembling “O”, her breath ragged within her chest refused to let the slightest moan escape though in her mind she screamed and begged for more.
Her body quivered, and her fingers grabbed the sheets white knuckled, her mouth ajar but no sounds came out. She started shaking, whipping her head from side to side as his fingers traced lines across her inner thigh, going close but never touching her need. Her stomach heaved; her back arched further pushing at his lips, willing him to take more of her, but he pulled away from her insistence. He touched, stroked, licked and sucked at his own controlled pace, satiating her with his desires. He was gentle but in this way he was vicious, it was his own brand of torture, the more he denied her the more she craved him, his touch and his desire.
Then suddenly she felt his fingers brush against her lower lips and a spasm wracked her frame. Again came the slight touch and again she jerked, her hand clenched in tight fists against her silken restraints, wanting to pull them apart, tears came to her eyes as she fought to keep silent, fought her need for his. Her stomach churned with anticipation, her legs quivered and jerked inwards but her bonds held them open granting him as much access as possible. She bit at her lip so hard she could taste where her teeth broke through… please… please… please… pleaseeeeeee….. her mind screamed, her body pleaded, her whole being begged. He kept his pace, slow and steady, deliberate in every touch. She was at her brink but still she could not relent, she could not release her soul without his words, without his approval but with each passing second, with each touch, with each stroke it became harder and harder. Did he know what he was doing to her…of course he did. Pleasure in itself can become pain, building behind the barrier of his control like a dam, pushing forward despite its restrictions.
In one blinding moment his fingers slipped between her lips and sunk into her wet, warm sex, an incredible force swept through her body, simmering heat washed from her fingers and toes, coalescing at the point of his intrusion, muscles she was unaware she possessed danced and undulated within, pulling and sucking as he lips did. Her body lifted into his and for a full minute she was locked unmoving, mouth open without sound, tears streaking both sides from her closed eyes and fingers wrapped around the very bonds that kept them in place.
“Release yourself unto me Little One.”
His words penetrated the chaos of her mind, cutting through the din of her ringing ears and in that instant her eyes flew wide open and she felt the pressure that was building inside her burst forth, erupting in a torrent of pleasure and wild emotions. She screamed, and grabbed him with all the orgasmic strength her body granted her, ripping loose her bonds as his words had released everything within her. Squeezing him to her, wrapping him in the nexus that enveloped her very being.
The End
His Chair
He stood at attention, his eyes staring straight ahead, as she circled him. Every few seconds she would slap the tip of her crop against her palm with a light “whap.” A nervous twitch shook his body a bit. His naked body, completely exposed to her hazel eyes. One of the crop’s blows struck the slave in his rear instead and a yelp escaped from his lips. The lady smiled.
She wore a lovely purple corset, tied not so tight as to make her uncomfortable, with matching panties and heels with black silk stockings. She knew his fetishes well, and they would definitely have an affect on him. She traced a line from his groin all the way up to his chin with the tip of her crop and softly said to him “Remove my panties.”
This slave has such a soft touch, she thought, as he hooked his fingers around her bottoms. His knuckles brushed against her stockings as he fell to his knees at a slow pace. The Lady was happy that he chose to perform this carefully and didn’t resort to tugging them off like an animal. He was face to face with her pussy for a brief moment before rising back into place.
She took a glance around at his room. A rather normal looking room with a sofa, a television, a coffee table, and just like most men he had “his” chair. A spot for the master of the domain to plant himself after a hard day at work. This one was a leather easy chair, quite large, and rested just a few feet from a fireplace. Some of these thrones looked as if they had been passed down from one generation to the next. Rips and tears were patched with duct tape while broken legs were fixed by putting a phone book underneath. William’s had none of these signs. It was rather new as he had just moved to this city two years ago. It felt… strange to the young man as he watched the Lady sit herself down in “his” chair. Neither of the two women he had dated since moving here had done what this woman had just done. If he was feeling possessive about it Melissa couldn’t tell, though, as he didn’t utter a single word in objection.
The leather squeaked as she wiggled her behind to get herself comfortable, which wasn’t very hard. The cushions were particularly soft and just seemed to mold themselves to her figure. She let herself go limp and just relax for a moment while staring at the fire. “Get down on your knees and remove my heels,” she said. It was a very soft voice, William thought. She never raised her voice at all. The words were spoken as a simple command as her eyes watched the fire the whole time. He knelt down and placed a soft kiss on each shoe right before slipping it off her foot and setting it aside. He stayed there, motionless, staring down and waiting for Her to speak to him again.
Her hand drifted to an end table by the chair that had a half-dozen magazines scattered on it. Time. National Geographic. The usual. She picked up Time and started to idly flip through the pages. She closed it for a moment and stared at him. He was trying not to show it, but the boy was nervous. He was pretty good at remaining still, but his breathing was quicker than normal. His eyes stayed down, looking upon her feet. She spread her knees and leaned towards him. She placed her hand on the back of his head and drew him in slowly. Pulled his face forward, closer and closer. Stopping and resting his head with his nose no more than an inch from her pussy. She lifted her left leg and draped it over his shoulder, leaned back into the chair, and flipped through the magazine. Occasionally she’d find an interesting article, but usually pretended to read while she closed her eyes and listened to the fire.
William wasn’t able to stare at that pussy very long before his imagination got the better of him. He wouldn’t dare to let his tongue out for a lick without being told, but he could taste it in his mind all the same. Staring at that lovely slit. Taking in its scent with every breath. Wondering what it might feel like wrapped around him. His cock had stiffened considerably. It was aching. Wanting. His breathing was more rapid. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to get his mind of it just a little. The scent still struck him square in his face, but it was helping a little. It was helping. Until he felt a sharp smack on the top of his head. He peered up at her and the scowl on her face. Her voice wasn’t raised but disappointed.
“Don’t turn away. I want your eyes on it. Keep them open, and looking straight ahead. Am I clear?”
William nodded his head and set his gaze back on the Lady’s pussy. She shifted her right foot to rest against his cock and lightly rubbed the silk against it. She set the magazine down and turned her head towards the fire, looking into it. Her hand slid down to her lips and her fingers slid up and down her slit very slowly. The scent was overpowering. The pussy was starting to glisten just a bit. William’s cock was stiff against the side of her foot. It turned her on. Not just that he desired her, no, but how well-behaved the boy was. It had been a whole hour since she placed his head down on the chair. It was just about time for her to go. She took her fingers from her pussy and spread some of her juices on his upper lip. She pushed at his shoulder lightly with her left foot, pushing him back to a position where he was kneeling straight up. And finally she started to rub her pussy on the seat of his chair, coating it with her scent. Claiming it. Marking it as hers.
The Lady stood up and began to put her clothes back on. “I’m afraid I have to go home for the night, William. I do have some instructions for you, though. First of all, if you have any desire at all to serve me I strongly suggest you resist the urge to “relieve” yourself. And second,” she began to smile to herself, “you are not to sit in that chair. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Lady,” he responded. And with that she walked out the door, the click clack of her heels outside getting quieter and quieter until only the crackling of the fireplace was left. He stayed there, kneeling, for quite some time before getting himself to bed.
The End
School For Sluts
“Dean Whitaker, your two o’clock is here.”
The Dean looked up from his desk and responded to his secretary, “Let her in.”
Seconds later, a beautiful brunette strode through the door into the Dean’s office. The Dean looked her up and down. The girl wore a white, strapless sundress that fit her curves nicely. The Dean, a quick wit and keen observer, enjoyed the baby blue nail polish the girl wore on her fingers and toes. Her eyes were of a similar hue. The girl’s hair fell somewhere between the middle of her back and her shoulder blades, swooping gently in natural, slightly wavy splendor. She was tan and she was definitely a brat.
“Good afternoon Dean Whitaker. I’m Katie.” the girl said, as she extended her hand.
The Dean shook Katie’s hand and then gestured to the chair in front of his desk, offering her a seat. Katie sat herself down in the chair and the Dean began to ask her some questions.
“Okay, Katie. First things first. Have you given any thought to your major, yet?”
“Well,” the brunette began, “I have given it some thought. Right now, my major is General Hardcore, but I’m also thinking about minoring in BDSM.”
“Really?” responded the Dean, genuinely interested. He loved his job.
“Yeah. I’ve always loved sex, don’t get me wrong. Like, regular fucking is great and all. But, sometimes, I like to be treated… you know, like a whore.”
The Dean, satisfied with this answer moved along.
“Okay, Katie, fair enough. You are prepared for you entrance exam, right?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” the girl responded happily.
“Okay then. Stand up.” said the Dean.
Katie bounced up out of her chair. The Dean also stood and approached the girl. Katie had automatically folded her hands behind her back, her interest in S&M showing through.
The Dean spoke. “Katie, remove your dress.”
With a smile, the brunette unzipped her dress and slowly slid it down her tanned, toned body. Suddenly, Katie was standing there, naked, her dress in a pile at her pretty painted toes. The Dean circled her. Her body really was nice. She was built for sex. Her tits were perfect. A handful plus, topped with half inch nipples that stood at attention and pointed to the sky. Her ass was plump, round, and oh-so-spankable. And, of course, her pussy was delectable. It was cleanly shaven. Smooth. Her thick, tan thighs barely met in the middle with her feet planted together. The Dean thought she was as cute as a bunny, but would probably fuck more than one.
The Dean paused behind Katie, facing her backside. He stared down her naked body, then broke the silence.
“Katie, I’d like you to tell me about your most naughty fantasy. Tell me what makes you wet.”
The girl’s face blushed slightly at the Dean’s words. Before she could begin, the Dean began to fondle the girl’s tits from behind. He was right, they were a handful plus.
A slight gasp passed through Katie’s sticky, lip-glossed lips at the Dean’s touch. She began to divulge her sexual intrigues.
“Well, Dean Whitaker, I have one particular fantasy… actually, it’s a dream I had a few years ago. I remember waking up, right after the dream, my panties were so wet. The inside of my thighs were warm. Everything was warm.”
The Dean continued to massage Katie’s tits. Her back was now resting on his chest as she continued her story.
“So, anyway, in the dream, I was blindfolded, but I could see myself, from like, a different perspective, not my own. I was watching myself. And, aside from the blindfold, I wasn’t wearing any clothes. I was taken into a small, dark room and in the room there were like, a bunch of guys, of all ages. All of them were dressed nicely in suits and ties.”
The Dean slid his hands down from the girl’s tits, down her torso, enjoying the feel of her ribs and smooth skin on his palms. As he slid his right hand over Katie’s sexy tummy and his left hand down to her left thigh, gently massaging her sensitive skin, he questioned, “What happened next, Katie?”
Katie, focusing on the Dean’s ministrations, continued her tale.
“One of the men in the room told me to get down on all fours. He said, ‘Get on the ground, pig. Put your ass and pussy up in the air.’”
The Dean now had his right hand between Katie’s legs, and his left hand gently clasped around her neck. Her skin was moist and warm.
Katie swallowed hard and tried to concentrate.
“I got down on my hands and knees. When I did, the man who had called me a pig approached me from behind. He spit on my ass, and my back. The other men in the room were quiet. I remember having a sickening feeling in my stomach, but I liked it.”
The Dean interrupted.
“You like to feel humiliated then, don’t you Katie?”
As Katie began to answer, the Dean dipped two of his fingers lower, and slid them slowly along Katie’s moistening slit. Katie’s response to the Dean’s question was a little raspy, like a moan waiting to happen.
“I do like to feel humiliation, Dean.”
“Call me ‘sir’, Katie.” the Dean interjected.
“Okay, sir.”
Katie’s hips were subconsiously rolling from side to side as the Dean teased her pussy. The anticipation was killing her.
“Sir, should I continue telling you about my dream?”
“Yes, Katie. Continue.”
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“At that point, I felt hands on my ass, pawing at me. Like, I felt hands on every part of my body. The hands were rough with me. There were fingers pulling on my nipples, grasping at my pussy, the lips, my clit. Then, the speaker guy ordered everyone to stop touching me. The hands stopped. I was shaking. I think I was quivering, really. The speaker called me a ’trashy pig’ and a ‘slut’ and then he slapped my right ass cheek very hard. It took my breath away. He slapped my left ass cheek. Right. Left. He called me ‘filthy piglet’ and kept smacking my ass till…”
Katie’s voice trailed off. Meanwhile, as Katie had been talking, the Dean was sliding his fingers over Katie’s clit, down along the entrance to her pussy, and underneath, almost touching her asshole. Her thighs were sticky.
“Katie. Finish telling me about your dream.”
“Sir, I think if I keep talking about my dream, and you keep doing what you’re doing, I might cum, sir.”
“Finish telling me about your dream.” reiterated the Dean, dismissing Katie’s qualms.
“Okay, I’m sorry sir.”
The Dean slid a finger inside the girl for the first time. Her knees bent slightly and she moaned.
“The man kept spanking me, in front of all those men, and, in the dream, he slapped my ass until I squirted. I came on my hands and knees, blindfolded, from being slapped on the ass by a man I didn’t know. My cum trickled down my thighs, onto the floor. The speaker laughed at me. He called me a ‘pig whore’ and then he slammed his cock into me. All of a sudden I felt all of the hands groping me and being rough with me again. And that’s when I woke up. But, I wanted to go back to that place as soon as I opened my eyes.”
The Dean slid another finger inside the girl and was now fingering her with his right hand and pulling her nipples with his left.
“That’s a very dark fantasy, Katie.”
“Ohhh, I know, sir.” the girl replied. Her eyes were closed.
“Tell me. Would you like to cum, Katie?”
“Mmmmm, yes sir.”
“Beg me to make you cum.”
The Dean’s fingers were skilled and the girl was under his control. Katie was grinding her sweet, round ass into the Dean’s crotch. She could feel his cock between her naked ass cheeks. Her toes were clenched into the rug. A bead of sweat rolled down her face.
“Oh, sir, please, make me cum. I’m so close.”
The Dean manipulated Katie from the inside with his fingers, stroking the firm nub of her g-spot. He reached down with his left hand, grabbed her thigh forcefully and pulled it away from her other leg, allowing his right hand greater access to her pussy.
“Mmmmm, I’m gonna come sir… don’t stop…”
The Dean pulled his fingers out of Katie’s depths and with the same hand he had been fingering her with, abruptly slapped her on her ass, hard. His left hand held Katie’s gorgeous hair in a bunch and he slapped her tanned ass again. He landed one more hand-print-leaving shot on her cheek and it was all over with.
Katie’s body began to spasm and a stream of her girlcum splashed down her meaty thighs. She would have fallen down if not for the Dean’s handful of her hair.
“You’re going to learn so much, Katie my dear. So much.” growled the Dean.
Katie, breathlessly mumbled, “Thank you, sir.”
The Dean let go of Katie’s hair as she fell foward onto the desk. Seconds later, the Dean pulled his cock out of his pants and ordered Katie to suck him off.
The sweaty, sexy brunette got down on her knees and took the Dean’s cock into her mouth. She sucked on the head of his cock as she stroked its length with her small hands. The Dean watched intently as Katie blew him. Her cheeks were shiny with sweat or spit, or both. Katie dipped her head under the Dean’s shaft and took long, healthy licks of his balls, sucking gently. The Dean thought her face was ever more beautiful with his cock laying across it. Katie eventually went back to sucking his cock after she was sure his balls had received enough attention.
The Dean was close to orgasm. He grabbed Katie’s hair again and pulled her away from his cock. She looked at him, surprised. The Dean began to stroke his cock with his right hand and held the beautiful girl in place by her hair with his left hand. He simply, calmly stated, “Take it on your tits.” Then, the Dean shot a white stream of jizz onto the middle of Katie’s ample chest. The girl opened her mouth, trying to catch some of his cum. Semen ran down the girl’s tummy, pooling in her belly button until it dripped off of her tan body and onto her dress and baby blue toes below.
The Dean let go of her hair and zipped up his pants as Katie fell back against the desk.
“Okay, Katie. That’ll be all for today. I’m sure you’ll be a great addition to our fine establishment. Get dressed and go.”
Katie felt used. And she felt good. She stood up, cum splashed across her tits and tummy. She picked up her dress and slid it back on. She felt like such a little whore. Her dress stuck to her where the cum was. Her thighs felt greasy and warm. She felt happy.
Katie said, “Thank you, sir” and headed out the door. School was in session.
The End
An Elegant Woman
Elegance is often found in simplicity.
A little black dress cut just above the knee, its midnight hue camouflaging the natural swell of healthy breasts.
A pair of black Gucci slides uncluttered by buckles and patterns.
Glossy brunette locks tucked behind an ear on one side, falling across a lightly powdered cheek on the other.
Modest diamond earrings adorning each lobe, a matching pendant resting on the lightly tanned flesh over the breast bone.
Simple. Elegant.
* * *
“I’m Katherine,” she announced with confidence. Cabernet sauvignon tilted silently in the glass in her left hand and she extended her right.
“Dan,” he responded. Her hand was soft, the skin supple and warm. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“You, as well.” Her brilliant smile revealed a subtle skepticism. “You seem a little out of place.”
He raised an eyebrow and took a sip from the tumbler. “Not my usual haunt. But my mother is rather active in the gallery community. She asked me to join her tonight, since my dad couldn’t.”
“And who is your mom?” Katherine asked, her head turning slowly, her shiny tresses brushing over an exposed, lightly freckled shoulder.
Dan nodded in his mother’s direction.
“Ah. I recognize her from a few recent openings.” Katherine turned back to him, her piercing green eyes settling on his.
“So you’re a regular at these things?”
“Mm-hm,” she mumbled through a sip of her wine. “Michael and I – Michael’s my husband – he and I fancy ourselves as collectors. We’re not, really, but we enjoy the art and the atmosphere of these showings.”
She paused and looked around her.
“And there he is now. If you’ll excuse me?”
Dan bowed his head and she was off, the wondrous scent of flora after a spring rain left in her wake. He admired the way her bottom swayed beneath the form-fitting dress and the faint musculature of her calves.
* * *
“Fancy seeing you here.” Her smile lit up the room, more than the impressionist artwork that hung on the walls of the Kinzie Street gallery, just off Wells.
He turned to see the beautiful woman gliding up to the bar beside him. He feigned having to recollect her name. “Katherine, is it?”
Her eyes were disbelieving of his contrived ignorance, her smile playful. “Yes. Dan, is it?” she rejoined.
He laughed; she was infectious.
“So, is dad traveling again?”
“No. He’s here, too.”
“And you nonetheless deigned to grace us with your presence?”
He blushed.
“Aw, I’m sorry,” she pouted, placing her manicured fingers on his arm. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“You didn’t. I just had a good time last time. I like these events. They’re a welcome change from the usual bars and clubs.”
“I’m sure.” She paused and took a sip from the glass held between her delicate fingers. “Well, it was good to see you again.”
“You, too, Katherine.”
She turned to move away but cast a glance over her shoulder. “Glad you remembered my name this time, Dan.” Her smile was teasing and was reflected in her soft eyes.
* * *
“I’d like you to meet my husband. Dan, this is Michael. Michael, Dan.”
The two men shook hands.
“Michael Barnes. Good to meet you.” He was tall, graying at the temples. His handshake was firm, strong. His sport coat was cashmere, the shirt beneath it open at the neck.
“You, too, Michael.”
Dan pretended to take interest in a large contemporary work that had captured the attention of Michael and Katherine Barnes. His mind drifted as they discussed the artist’s other work. They were in their early forties, successful. He was probably a lawyer, or a financial consultant. They likely lived on the North Shore, Wilmette or Winnetka, Dan guessed. She was one of those ladies that lunched, the kids in college now. But for whatever success they had achieved, both seemed down-to-earth, very well-grounded.
“Would you like a re-fill, Dan?” he asked, pulling Dan back to the here-and-now.
“Sure. That’d be great. Scotch and soda. Thanks.” He handed Michael the tumbler and was then left alone with Katherine.
“So, do you and Michael come down to the galleries often?”
“As often as we can. Sometimes I come alone. It all depends on his travel schedule.”
“Hmm.”
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Just curious.”
* * *
He saw her across the gallery and casually made his way around the room, approaching her from the rear just as she ended a conversation with the gallery’s manager.
“Hi there.”
She turned slowly, her every movement full of grace. As before, her smile brightened the room. “And hello to you.”
“Thought I might see you here tonight.”
“Really?” she responded, drawing the word slowly from her slender throat. “And were you looking forward to it?”
Dan blushed furiously, obviously taken with Katherine’s enchanting beauty. “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, of course.”
Her smile was soft and she smoothed stray strands of shiny dark hair behind an ear. “I seem to be making a habit of embarrassing you.”
“Naw. Not at all.” He took a sip from his tumbler.
She took one from her goblet and rolled the stem of the now-empty glass in her slender fingers. Her soft, sensuous lips were tinged a deep red from the drink.
“Can I get you another?” he asked, hope evident in his eyes.
“Thank you, but I’m afraid not. I must be going.”
Dan mocked a pout, or mocked mocking a pout. “So soon?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Michael’s flight lands in a few minutes and I told him I’d be home around the same time as him.”
“Too bad for me.”
Again, her infectious smile. “Would you be kind enough to walk me to my car?”
“Of course.” He couldn’t hide the eagerness in his voice.
Outside, they waited while the valet brought her Mercedes around.
“This is becoming a regular thing, Dan.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Well, I think it’s good. I enjoy your company. Michael does, too.”
“And I yours.”
She stepped gracefully from the curb as her car approached, and Dan followed her down. He handed a ten dollar bill and a few singles to the valet.
“Dan! You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, Katherine. Don’t worry about it.”
“You’re far too kind. I hope to see you again soon.” She put a foot into the car and turned back toward him, offering her cheek. He kissed her lightly and trembled lightly at the smoothness of her skin, his heart beating rapidly as her slender fingers grazed his jaw.
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They stood beneath the canopy in front of Smith & Wollensky. A light rain fell, rendering the street a reflection of the city’s lights.
“Thank you for dinner. I really enjoyed it.”
“I did, too, Katherine. Thank you for joining me.”
The valet brought her car to a stop at the curb and Dan, holding her soft hand, helped her off the curb and walked her around to the driver’s door, paying the valet again.
“You need to stop this, Dan.”
“It’s the least I can do. Michael’s away, I had a free night. Might as well enjoy it, no?”
She smiled up at him as he held the door for her. She looked away, across the river, then turned back toward him. She stood on her toes and kissed him chastely on the cheek, the soft pads of her elegant fingers sliding down his cheek. “Thank you, again.”
* * *
The tables outside Tavern-on-Rush were usually hard to come by, particularly on a sweet spring evening when the temperature rose into the seventies. A generous tip to the hostess usually cleared the way, however.
Katherine lifted the napkin from her lap, wiped her sensuous mouth, and folded the napkin atop the table. “I really should be going.” Her eyes told him that she didn’t want to.
“Well, at least traffic back to Wilmette should be light at this time.”
“Oh, I’m not going home just yet. I need to stop by the apartment and leave a check for the maid,” she said, rising from the table and smoothing the robin’s-egg blue summer dress down her lithe thighs.
Dan followed suit. “The apartment?”
“Mm-hm. Michael and I keep an apartment down here. We don’t use it often, but it’s nice to have when we want a weekend in the city. Or when Michael has to work late.”
He raised an eyebrow and she laughed. “I know, I know. It’s somewhat of an extravagance, but we think we’ve earned it.”
Dan guided her inside the restaurant, his hand soft at the small of her back, and then back out to the street. “Well, thank you again, Katherine, for joining me. It’s too bad that Michael couldn’t join us.”
She elbowed him lightly in the ribs as they walked south along Rush Street. “Yeah, I bet, Dan.”
He laughed, nervously. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” She hesitated before continuing. “I just get the feeling that you don’t really care if Michael’s around or not.”
“That’s not true at all, Katherine. I like spending time with you guys.”
She let it go and they made their way past Jilly’s and Prada and crossed Oak Street.
“So, do you plan on walking me all the way to the apartment?” Her voice was playful again, teasing.
“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t even know where it is. I was just walking with you.”
They eased around a crowd of people gathered in front of Le Colonial and continued to walk in comfortable silence, her hips occasionally bumping his as they continued down Rush Street to Erie. A block east on Erie, Katherine came to a stop beneath a portico leading to the lobby of a relatively new high-rise. She turned toward him.
“Thank you again for a wonderful evening, Dan.”
“My pleasure.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She held out her supple hand and he took it, then they moved away from each other, the fingers sliding along each other until they parted.
“Um, would you like to come up for a few minutes? Have a drink, perhaps?”
Dan turned back toward her, finding her anxious. He looked around and thrust his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Uh, sure. That’d be great.”
A smile flitted across her features and she turned on her heel and moved through the revolving door. The elevator ride to the forty-third floor was made in silence. When the doors swished open, she led him to the right, to the only door at that end of the hallway. Dan looked behind him, noticing only one door to the left. Katherine keyed open the door and he followed her in before she locked the door behind them.
“So, this is it,” she announced, leading the way into a large open space decorated as a living room. A large dining room was to his left, a kitchen and darkened hallway beyond it. To his right, another darkened hallway and, behind him, a sweeping, open staircase leading to a second floor.
“What would you like to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
She smiled softly, nodded and turned. “Be right back.”
Dan moved slowly around the living room in her absence, running his hand over the back of a chocolate brown leather couch. The dark green walls were dotted with paintings and a few sculptures stood on stands. ‘We’re not really collectors,’ he recalled her saying. ‘My ass,’ he thought.
Large, cathedral-style windows looked out on the skyline and he paused before one, looking down at the ant-like creatures crawling along the sidewalk. Dan had clearly underestimated Michael’s vocation; not many legal salaries could afford this.
The clack of her heels along the dark hardwood floors signaled Katherine’s return. He turned and took a stemmed glass full of dark red liquid from her.
“Cheers,” she whispered, and they clinked their glasses together.
“Your apartment is beautiful,” Dan complimented after taking a sip.
“Thank you. We love it. I just wish we spent more time down here, now that the kids are gone.” She moved away from him, around the living room, turning on a few lights, casting the room in a dim amber glow. “It’s my indulgence, really. Michael finally decided to give into it a few years ago. Gave me what I wanted.”
She paused behind the couch, near the foot of the stairs. Her eyes scanned the room before falling on Dan, still standing before one of the windows.
“This is what you always wanted? A place in the city?” he asked, his voice halting.
“Mm-hm. Michael’s good about that. Giving me what I want.” She took another sip of wine and fiddled with the single pearl that rested just above her carefully concealed cleavage.
“So,” Dan began, his stomach twisted in knots. “If Michael is good at giving you what you want, what am I doing here?”
Katherine looked away, down at some imaginary item on the floor at her feet. She looked back at him, sheepish, and set her wine glass on a console table.
“You’re not here to give me what I want, Dan,” she intoned, her voice barely audible. She reached behind her neck with one hand and the summer dress went slack. “You’re here to give me what I need.”
Katherine stepped toward the stairwell and the dress whispered down her trim torso to the floor. She put a manicured hand on the stair railing and stepped onto the first step, looking over her shoulder at him.
Dan’s sharp intake of breath was audible even across the room. When the soft blue dress puddled at the foot of the stairs, it revealed Katherine’s lacy black bra encasing generous, natural appearing breasts. When she took a step up on the stairway, her back side to him, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the black lace tee-back thong that split the soft, supple cheeks of her butt.
“Are you coming?” she whispered.
He fought the urge to run and instead walked smoothly around the furniture, slowing to place his wine glass on a side table. Katherine was halfway up the stairway when he caught up with her, his large hands coming to rest gently on her swaying hips. A step below her, his strong arms encircled her waist from behind, his hands trembling at the exquisite feeling of her warm, pliant flesh. He nuzzled his lips into her neck, kissing her lightly, and felt her shiver.
Katherine’s knees wobbled at his soft, gentle touch. She raised her thin arms above and behind her, encircling his neck, and panted lightly as his lips worked up the side of her slender neck to her ear lobe, hot breath caressing her inner ear. Goose bumps popped along her arms and down her back as Dan’s strong hands stroked her taut stomach.
“Touch me,” she whispered and Dan’s hands floated across the ridges defining her belly, smoothing over the silk of her bra. He squeezed her breasts tenderly through the cool fabric, thrilled at the feel of her nipples tenting the tight weave. He pulled her closer to him, her firm bottom against his stomach, and his fingers found the front clasp of her bra, quickly loosening it and pulling it off her lightly tanned shoulders.
“Yesss,” she moaned as her bra fell to the floor at their feet. She arched her back into him and her firm breasts filled his hands and her nipples prodded against his palms and her head fell back on his shoulder, her lips slightly agape.
Dan’s teeth found her ear lobe and bit lightly while his fingers strummed across her distended buds.
“I love . . . your touch,” she panted, pushing away from him and continuing up the stairs, her firm butt swaying back and forth.
Dan followed, his hands at her pliant hips. At the top step, she stopped again and dropped to her hands and knees. He knelt behind her and planted light kisses up and down her spine while his hands massaged her butt cheeks, gently kneading the yielding flesh. Beneath him, Katherine panted and moaned her approval and he slowly peeled the thong from her now-damp flesh and down her thighs. She lifted her knees in turn and the wispy bit of fabric slid down her calves to the top tread of the stairway. He kissed his way up her back again, his clothed pelvis pressing against her upturned bottom.
“More,” she pleaded, her voice nearly a whisper. “Touch me more.”
Dan’s fingers slid down her back, through the cleavage of her butt and brushed against the outer folds of her neatly trimmed vagina. Her inner thighs were damp and she shuddered when two fingers grazed across her agitated clitoris.
“Ugh,” she moaned, her body convulsing slightly at his ministrations.
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