Birdie's Short Stories All Are Welcome To Contribute

“Do you like my newly shaven look, David? It makes it easy to see all my cunt, doesn’t it?” She half reclined against the back of the sofa and lifted her lower legs up onto her toes. Her crotch came up and went slightly out of focus. Sam pulled back. Without loosing the primary view, we could see Lynda looking between her legs at whatever the customer was doing.

“You’re making me very wet, David… You want to see how wet I am,” she checked what he had said. “Do you want me to pull my cunt lips back for you to see?”

“Now get some more money,” Sam urged as if he was whispering in her ear.

“That will cost extra, David,” Lynda said as if she had heard Sam.

“Now she’s got the hang of it!” Sam sounded delighted. I just wanted to see the same thing she was offering the customer; nothing else mattered.

More money changed hands. This time Lynda did not bother to cover herself when she got up to take it. I could hear the heavy breathing as she approached the glass. She paused there for a second or two, up close to it, and then went back to the sofa. This time she perched on the back and spread her legs as generously as before. She used the sides of her thumbs to draw open the outer lips of her cunt. They looked swollen, and pink inside. Sam made a sound of delight as he went in for a few seconds close-up then drew the focus back enough to see all of Lynda.

She was saying, “This is really turning me on, David. I can feel my juices flowing.” She listened to him. “Yes I’ll let you see right inside.” She played with her inner lips tantalisingly before she drew them apart as well. We could all see the invitingly open entrance to her lubricated love-canal.

“Does looking at me make your big cock feel even harder, David?” Her eyes seemed to be devouring whatever she was looking at on the other side of the glass. She let her tongue slowly slide across her upper lip.

“She knows how to get a man by the balls!” Sam enthused.

I couldn’t keep my eyes on only one part of Lynda when she was in full view. My gaze went from her flushed face to her nipples, and back to the still fascinating pink slash between her legs, which she had let close only a little. She wanted to be looked at! I wished I was the one seeing her through the glass, and not just on the screen.

Lynda started to make movements as if she was riding an imaginary cock. Her eyes closed to enjoy the fantasy. “I can feel your big cock inside my cunt, David. It’s sliding up and down… Oh, yes! Ram it up me hard! Oh, yes! It’s so big and so long. Push it up all the way.” She groaned, tilting her head back.

I didn’t realise she was fingering her clit until Sam zoomed in for a close-up

“Ooh! You’re right up inside me now, David!” We could all hear him grunting and panting. “I want to feel your hot come shoot all over the walls of my tight cunt. Fill me up, David.”

They both came. There was plenty of sound on each side of the glass wall. Sam was so carried away he forgot to get a shot of her face. The view of her open legs lasted only for the peak of her climax; then they clamped shut.

“Damn she’s good!” Sam enthused.

“I want to be her next customer.”

“What?”

“I want to be next.”

“You’ll have to pay her.”

“Okay. I want her to think I’m just another john.”

I wore a cap, with the peak pulled down low, which Sam gave me. Lynda had used the control on the lights to turn them down low. She was draped on her back on the sofa again, this time more prone.

It was different, seeing her in the flesh with just the sheet of glass between us. It was more personal than a video image, immediate, and even more real. My eyes roved over every curve and shadowed dip of her body. I’d never seen her completely naked in the flesh before. Our relationship had not moved to the stage of full intercourse. She’d straddled my face and let me lick her once, holding up her skirt and pulling the crotch of her panties out of the way. During our dates, she’d also happily expose one of her breasts to be fondled and kissed, but never both at once.

She got off the sofa languidly, stretched as if waking up - flaunting herself - and paraded slowly back and forward in front of the glass window, not looking at me but knowing someone was sitting on the other side.

I gloried at the sight of the curves of her breasts, swelling out and round to her up-turned nipples. I thrilled whenever she turned to come towards me, showing the remnant patch of pale pubic hair below her almost flat belly. My eyes could run down her shapely thighs, and then back up to her butt cheeks and slender waist as she moved away from me again. I was enthralled by her slow turns and by all the lithe movements of her body as she walked. It was a fashion parade exalting the female form in nothing else but bare flesh.

When she was next about to pass by she pretended to notice she had a customer. She swung towards the glass as if taken by surprise. She quickly covered her breasts with one folded arm and her crotch with her hand. It was as sexy as she could make it!

She pretended embarrassment, and then said in a husky voice, “Hello, I didn’t hear you come in.” She played out her fantasy. “You’ve caught me in the buff. I sleep that way. Do you?”

I nodded, still hiding my face under the peak of the cap.

“I think it’s more comfortable not being restricted by clothes - in bed that is,” she giggled as if she thought I might get the wrong impression. She let her hands fall to her sides slowly, still posing with one foot in front of the other so that she was showing only the slightest hint of a slit in the wide V at the top of her long legs. “You weren’t supposed to catch me like this,” she still pretended shyness.

“But I have,” I disguised my voice. “By lucky chance it seems. You’re just perfect like that.”

“I should get dressed.”

“I like you as you are.”

“But you can see all of me!”

“Not quite.”

“Would you like me to turn up the light?”

“No. I think we should get more closely acquainted first, don’t you?”

“My name is Lynette.”

“I’m Doug.”

“Are you sure about the light, Doug?”

“I can see how beautiful you are.”

“But not all of me? Is there some part you’d like to see better?”

“What would it cost me?” The thought of paying to see her genitalia when she did not know it was me gave me a deviant thrill.

She named a sum; it was double the previous price. She added a sweetener, “You seem the sort of man who might appreciate someone whose done something special for you - down there,” her gaze fell to the top of her legs. “It’s something your wife or girlfriend wouldn’t do for you.”I paid her.

“You do like shaved cunts?” She was making me wait to see it.

“Is that what you’ve done to yours?”

“Am I naughty? It makes all my pussy lips show ever so clearly.”

“That sounds real sexy, Lynette. I’d like to see them when you part your legs for me.” I was so excited by the idea that I almost forgot to disguise my voice.

“I’ll let you do that very soon.” Her breasts were rising and falling.

“I want to watch you rub your love-juice all over your bare cunt lips with your fingers,” I said.

Lynda groaned.

She quickly followed it with the offer, “For twenty dollars more I can turn on a light on your side of the glass so that you won’t miss anything.” She indicated a small spotlight on the window ledge, between us, at knee level. “You can shine it on me wherever you like.” I checked that it swivelled then passed through the money.

She moved to push a button on her side. As the light came on the dimmed lights overhead on her side went off. She took an armless chair from one side of the sofa and positioned it in the beam of brightness. Coming round from the back, she sat in it facing me. She just parted her knees enough for me to see her pubic bush was truncated, as she had promised. She began fingering her nipples and teasing them to stand out. Her thighs closed again as she bent one knee up to rest her heel on the windowsill. Then she put the other heel in a similar position. Her knees were still together but her parted calves framed the mounded cunt lips squeezed between her thighs. I lowered the rim of light to her knee level.

“Does seeing my pussy like this make you want to come all over the glass, Doug?”

“I’d like that.” I was playing a customer but it was also true.

“Do you want to play with your cock, Doug? We could make-believe I was milking it for you.” She had started rubbing her outer labia, with one hand reaching under her left thigh.

I undid my zip.

“Would you turn the light round and let me see it?”

I set my manhood free to rise to full attention. “All you need to know is that’s its standing up for you like a tall candle. You just have to believe you’re reaching out to wrap your fingers around it as far as they’ll go.” I figured she liked imagery even more than seeing it.

“You’re so big!” she enthused, closing her eyes. She moved her feet back to the floor, one on either side of the chair, and straddled the front edge of it with her crotch. Her thighs spread for me as far as she could hold them open. Moisture glistened in the spotlight between her lightly parted petals. “If you put that big cock in me it would split my little honey-pot”

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“Try and dilate it to fit my size,” I encouraged. I was moving my hand up and down, wishing it was hers.

“I know it will never get that big.” She was stroking my ego at least. “But I’ll try.”

Her fingers started exploring the pink slit, trailing up and down it, and then gradually teasing it open by kneading the outer labia. I could have watched her doing that all night!

Her fingers were getting visibly wet and she began rubbing the lubricant over the fleshy mounds on each side of her vulva, fulfilling my stated wish. I bent forward and put some more money through the drawer when she stopped. She bent forward to take it out, then counted the notes before asking what I wanted.

“I want to watch you putting something in it.”

“Something as big as you?”

“That’s up to you. Not a vibrator though. Something you have to slide in and out.”

She turned on the overhead lights again and went over to the cabinet above the hand basin. She came back with an ebony dildo. Its proportions were generous enough - larger than mine. “Will this do?” She sounded reluctant about using it.

“Turn off the room lights again. You’re going to pretend you’re sitting on a toilet in the men’s room. You’ve snuck in while it’s vacant, then hidden in a cubicle.” She threw the light switch as she moved the chair closer to the glass. Already into the fantasy, she sat with her knees up and her heels tucked in beside her butt. Her cunt gaped at the bottom of her genital cleft.

I focused my eyes on it as I continued, “You have this dildo waiting between your legs until some man comes into the stall next door to you. You know he’ll smell your perfume and peep through the hole that’s crudely drilled in the adjoining partition. You’ll picture him pumping his cock towards the wall next to you as he watches. He won’t know that you know what he’s doing.”

I’d set up the perfect situation for her. She groaned with a sound almost like orgasm as she visualised it. The rounded, glossy end of the dildo was already being fed towards her body by her fingers. She bent her head forward to check its direction, and then watched the head penetrate and stretch her cunt lips. She held it there without sinking the widest part of its phallic shape.

It was tantalising moments before she pushed it deeper, the labia gaping to fit round the penis-like rim of the head then sliding tightly towards the top end of the shaft like a pink condom uncurling on it. The microphone on her side had picked up the wet sounds of her cunt when the phallus penetrated it, and relayed them to my side through the speaker.

I was massaging my swollen hard-on vigorously.

“Will you spurt on the glass when you come,” she begged. “I want to see it happen.”

It only took a groan of pleasure to let her know I would. She rewarded me by squatting on the chair and slowly sliding the big phallus half way up its length into her body.

She soon got into a rhythm of pulling it down and wetly thrusting it up into her stretched hole again, accompanying it with a vocalisation of pleasure. Now and then, she would pause to grip the big ebony cock with her cunt muscles. Each time she relaxed them afterwards she managed to insert it even more deeply. I imagined the phallus was the swollen member I was gripping.

It wasn’t until the final thrust that pushed the artificial cock almost all the way up between her tight ring that I came. She must have heard my groan of pleasure, because her eyes focused in my direction. Come was dribbling down the glass for her. She slowly eased out the ebony phallus inch by inch and sat down. Then she brought it up to her mouth and sucked the juice off the head. Taking it out she slowly licked her lips, looking towards me. The sight of it in her mouth, and the imagined taste would have brought me off again if there had been anything left in my balls to give.

“You’d better clean off the glass, Doug,” she said huskily. She watched me do it with the tissues provided in the booth, still flaunting herself. When I finished, she turned off the spotlight. “Goodbye, Doug.” My turn was up.

I went out silently, leaving the cap behind.

Sam was waiting for me. “Let’s give her a rest from clients and go and see how she’s doing, eh?” He unlocked the door to the back marked “Private”, and we went down the corridor to Lynda’s cubicle. I was acutely aware that more women - on the other side of the doors we passed - were doing the same sort of things she had.

We could smell the fresh sexy odour from Lynda’s cunt as soon as we entered. She was standing by the glass - with the room lights turned up - and swung round to face us.

“Well, how did it go?” Sam asked, as if he had not been watching.

“It was incredible!” She did not bother to cover up but was sexually aware of being nude in front of us. She was standing with her legs slightly apart and looking very female. “It’s so much more than just flashing!”

“What part do you like the best?”

“When I know how much they want to see me…and I show it to them. I can feel their eyes on me. Knowing it’s shaved - down there - is a total turn-on!”

“Have you made good money?”

“I could give up my day job,” she giggled.

“You can keep tonight’s take, but if you accept the job I get thirty per cent to meet my overheads. Okay?”

Lynda accepted that in good grace.

“You’ll only earn really big money if you use the slot,” Sam reminded her. “If you don’t want to let them do anything else just bring them off with your hand onto your thighs or breasts.” Lynda’s nipples were hardening.

“Sooner or later you’ll get a customer who’s been here before and knows about it, even if you don’t initiate something yourself. You don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to.”

“Will that satisfy them?” She wanted him to encourage her to do more.

“Some guys are going to want to stick it in you for sure.” Sam looked at her lecherously, “You can give them condoms from the cupboard - even put them on for them if you want to.”

“And how do I get them to stick it in me?”

I couldn’t believe she was thinking about it.

“Once they pay, just bend over and back it up, honey. Slot to slot you might say.”

My cock started stiffening again in my trousers.

“So, do you want the job?”

“Let me try just one more customer before I decide,” she smiled at Sam engagingly. “I hope he has a very long cock.”

“I’m sure any man would get a whopper for you, honey.” They exchanged looks.

Her eyes turned to me, “Are you okay with this?”

My gaze dipped down to her crotch then lifted again. “I’ve been feeling turned on by the thought of other men seeing you. Now I’ll have even more to imagine.”

“I wish you could watch.” The idea turned her on.

“I think it might put the customer off.”

She giggled sexily. “Maybe Sam should try couples in here.”

“Maybe I should… We’ll come and see you later, okay?”

We made our exit.

Sam offered me a drink in his office. While he was fixing it, a light came on above his desk. “Another customer’s gone in,” he explained. “Do you want to watch?” He gave me a crooked grin. “It’s your girlfriend we’re spying on.”

I took the drink he held out. “Let’s leave it for a few moments. Let her get the preliminaries out of the way.” The tension grew as we waited. “Okay,” I gave in, “let’s see what she’s doing.”

Sam used the remote to activate the closed circuit.

Lynda’s naked body looked tall and white; the lights in the room were turned all the way up. Neither she nor the man was talking. Lynda was stubbing out a cigarette in an ashtray on the washstand. She put the plug in the basin and ran water in it.

“What’s she doing?” Sam was puzzled.

Lynda took up the soap, soaked it in the water, and then started lathering her breasts, which jiggled as she made circular motions over and under them. She plunged the soap in the water again and worked the lather down to her belly. It foamed when she rubbed it in her remnant oblong of pubic hair. Soaking the soap again each time, she did the inside of her left thigh, her breasts dangling pendulous, and then the right. Lastly, she did the outside of her thighs and her hips.

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“Don’t forget the arms,” the man’s voice came from the speakers.

“He’s giving her orders. He’s paid already,” Sam concluded.

Lynda lifted her arms one by one for soaping. Then she turned to the front and looked at the glass partition impassively.

“Now wipe it all off with a wet cloth, except between your legs,” the voice ordered. “Face me while you’re doing it.”

Lynda complied. Her body glowed afterwards. The drying foam matted her pubic hair.

“Now take out the razor.”

“She’s got him to pay her for shaving her cunt when she already has!” It delighted Sam. “That girl will be a goldmine.”

“Bring it over here to the window,” the man ordered.

“That’s torn it!” Sam vocalised.

Lynda walked forward. Sam changed the focus of the camera as she sat down on the edge of the chair.

“Now open your legs,” the disembodied voice told her.

She spread them wide apart. It was very clear that she had shaved before.

“Don’t forget. I want all the hair to come off.”

“The pervert!” Sam explained.

I was just visualising what she would look like completely hairless between the legs and enjoying the erection inside my trousers.

“Ouch! It’s hurting.” Lynda had stopped what she was doing. “The soap’s gone too dry.”

“It doesn’t matter if it hurts. Just shave the hair off.” The guy knew what he wanted.

“You’ll have to pay more.”

Lynda bent forward to gather up the notes.

“It will cost you double if I cut myself.”

Lynda winced a lot but completed the task.

“Now go and wash it.”

Lynda went and positioned her hips over the hand basin. She splashed water between her legs, touching herself with her hands. She used a towel to dry her groin afterwards, with her back to the camera.

“Now show me.”

She turned round slowly. The area over her pubic bone was now all bare skin. You could see the bottom of her genital cleft to the point where it ran under her torso. She walked back to the window with deliberate steps, knowing he was watching.

“I’ve put something in the drawer. I want you to wear it for me.”

After she took it out, we saw it was a pair of knickers. There wasn’t much to them. What there was - we all became aware when she put them on - you could see right through. Lynda looked nude in a completely different way.

“Do you like them on me?” It was her voice.

“Don’t say anything,” the man ordered. I could picture him bending forward, close to the glass. “Open your right leg out to the side.”

Lynda shifted her weight. The guy knew what he was doing; the view of her exposed pubes was fantastic!

Sam looked across at me, “Shall we try a close up?” He zoomed in. “Fuck she’s got a gorgeous cunt! Can’t call that pussy anymore - no fur at all.”

“Now kneel down,” the customer’s voice came out of the speakers, “just where you’re standing.”

The camera had a fleeting close-up of her breasts, and then her face came into view. Lynda’s expression looked compliant; she was being submissive for the money but not really enjoying it.

“He hasn’t got her mind involved,” I commented to Sam.

“Who gives a fuck about her mind?” Sam widened the focus.

“Part your knees about a foot.” It was the next instruction to Lynda. The gap between the tops of her thighs widened as she rocked from side to side to shift her knees apart. “That’s good.” We all stared for a few moments. “What’s your name?” It was the man’s voice roughly asking.

“Lynette.”

“You’ve got real cute undies, Lynette.”

“I’m glad you like them.” Her voice had gone girlish and sexy. “They’re very pretty.”

“What do you like most about them, Lynette?”

“That you can see me through them.”

“It’s rather naughty of you to show me.”

“Yes. I shouldn’t let you see my crack.” She’d caught on to his fetish.

The guy’s breathing gave away what he was doing.

“You’d like to show it to boys though, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not allowed to.”

“I like seeing it.”

“My crack?”

“Yes. I like the way it divides the gap between your legs.”

“Do you?”

“Does the crack have an opening, Lynette?”

“Yes. I pee out of it.”

“I’d like to see where the opening in your crack is, Lynette.”

“It’s down there,” she pointed, looking ingenuous. “You know I told you I’m not supposed to let anyone see it though.”

“I just want you to show me where it is - through your panties.”

“All right.”

Still kneeling, Lynda leant backwards, supporting herself with her hands on her calves. Her nipples stood out on mounded breasts. Sam zoomed in again on her crotch. The sheer material had pulled tightly over her fleshy labia. She was pushing her pubic bone up and out, making sure he could see all of her genital cleft.

“Fuck that woman can tease!” Sam let out his breath.

Lynda straightened up. Sam widened the shot. Her face was flushed. She looked towards the glass shyly, “Did you like seeing right up between my legs?”

“Yes. I could see all your crack - even where the opening might be.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“How would you feel about doing that with your panties off, Lynette?”

“So you can see it better?” She gave him a look that was even more provocatively coy.

“Yes, I like looking at you - down there, Lynette.”

“I don’t know…” she played hesitant.

“Damn right!” Sam exploded. “Make him pay more.” He never seemed to know when Lynda was too far into a fantasy to think about cash.

“You’d look real sweet with nothing on, Lynette,” the voice wheedled.

“Would I?” Her hand came into view and slid the waistband of the knickers down over one hip. “I’m not supposed to take my undies off with someone watching,” she played up to him.

“You can for me, Lynette. I won’t tell… Don’t you want to show yourself to me naked?”

“Maybe.” Her other hand slid the waistband over her opposite hip. The knickers just covered her pubic area and crotch now.

“Would you stand up and take them off while I watch?”

Sam followed her with the camera as she rose to her feet. He did not intend to miss anything.

“I want to see between your legs again. I think you’re real beautiful down there, Lynette,” her customer encouraged.

“Do you really?”

Lynda started sliding her knickers down her thighs. They went off camera just above her knees. When she made the movements of stepping out of them, she did it in a way that exposed her crotch. Bare, and hairless there, she looked incredibly different and sexy.

“Now come closer to the glass, Lynette.”

“What for?” She took a pace forward and almost off camera.

“Damn!” It wasn’t until Sam fiddled with the remote control that I realised he had a camera in the back of Lynda’s booth as well. She looked beautifully proportioned and shapely from the rear, with her legs lightly parted.

“I like your little crack even more when it’s up close and nude,” the man said.

Lynda giggled girlishly.

“Would you do something else for me, Lynette? There’s a special place in the partition. If you come over to it, you can show yourself to me without the glass in the way. I’d like that.”

She moved closer to the window and to the left. “Just here?”

“Move along a bit.”

She experimented.

“About another three inches. That’s right. Now I want you to turn your back to me and bend over. Then you can press the pretty slit between your legs up against the matching gap in the glass.”

“Why?” She pretended to be gauche. “What’s the gap for?”

“It’s to let you show anyone your crack better. You like the idea of showing boys your crack, don’t you, Lynette?”

“Yes … , ” she sounded sexually precocious but hesitant.

“They wouldn’t have put a gap in the glass if it wasn’t all right.”

“I s’pose not. Will you be able to see the place I pee out of, if I bend over?”

“Yes. I’d certainly like to see that, Lynette,” he sounded even more excited.

“You aren’t allowed to touch me though,” she cautioned shyly, assuming the position he wanted.

“I just want to see more of the pretty pink colour that’s peeping through your crack.”

“Do I do it like this?” She edged her butt up against the padded edges of the slot. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Oh, yes!” The guy sounded like he almost came.

“This client’s got stamina!” Sam said with admiration.

“I’d like to see the bare lips around your crack squeeze through the slot, Lynette.”

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She appeared to be complying, flattening her butt checks against the glass as she bent over further and wriggled back against it. “Can you see my cunny like you wanted to?”

“Yes, you’re poking right through,” he exaggerated. At least I thought so. “I like it now there’s nothing between your crack and me, Lynette.”

“There isn’t, is there?” She made it sound very naughty and appealing. I was busy visualising it.

“Are you sure I can’t touch it, Lynda? I’ll just stroke gently around it – on the parts that look like lips.”

“Will you pay me to let you?” She managed to make it sound in character.

“That’s my girl!” Sam approved.

“I’ve pushed a $100 note through just for you, Lynette. You’re really special.

I want to touch you down there so much!”

“All right. Just once. If you really, really want to.”

“Of course he wants to!” Sam could not restrain his commentary.

“Mmm! That felt nice.”

“Where?”

“Where you touched near my crack.”

“You’re lovely and soft and smooth down there, Lynette.”

“I bet she is!” Sam could not resist.

“Would you like to touch me again?” No one could have resisted that invitation.

He must have started without answering because Lynda’s butt shivered.

“You can keep on doing that, if you like – provided you don’t do anything else,” she encouraged. “I just love your fingers stroking me….oooh!”

“Don’t you just want to shove your cock between her tits?” Sam was admiring what he could see.

Lynda let out another long, drawn out sigh. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Your crack can part into a cute little passage that goes right up inside you.

When you have it open you can put your fingers up it. You’ll like the feel of doing that.”

“Can you give me that feeling?”

Lynda’s body jerked. He’d wasted no time in thrusting his fingers into her.

She settled back off her toes.

“Fuck! He’s put them in and taken them out already!” Sam was overwhelmed.

“That hurt a little,” Lynda said reproachfully but with just the right intonation to let him know the pain was pleasurable too.

“Would you like to feel something you can’t do yourself?”

“He’s going to stick it in her,” Sam predicted.

“Will it hurt me there?”

“No.”

“What is it you’re going to do?” she asked innocently.

“You’re going to feel something spurt on you that will take away the hurt.”

“Spurt?”

“Something nice and warm like yoghurt will trickle down your crack.”

“I’ve never heard of putting yoghurt down there.”

“What an actress!” Sam was ecstatic.

“It’s not really yoghurt. It’s called jism and you’ve got a special place between your legs just for it.”

“In the little passage where you put your fingers? Are you going to put your jism in there? How does it get there - between my legs?”

“Out of the end of the thing I’m holding near you. I milk it up and down with my hand and it shoots out.”

“Can I see it do that?”

“Maybe another time. Just concentrate on waiting to feel it. Keep your bum as tight as you can up against the glass until you do.”

“All right.” Lynda sounded girlishly eager.

We could hear the guy grunting and see Lynda’s back, with her butt thrust in the air waiting for his load to arrive. I had to see it to believe it! We heard him come.

Lynda started and gave a little gasp. His jism must have landed on target. He could have had his cock in her for all we knew.

“Can you feel it?”

“Yes, it’s on my bare skin insde me.” She left her butt in the air, showing him where it was.

“Does it feel good?”

“I loved the way it spurted on me. I feel all sensitive down there - where it landed. But you should go now before we get in trouble.”

“Is it dribbling down your bare crack, Lynette? I just want to know first.”

“Yes!” she answered breathlessly.

“Well it’s dribbling down her thighs anyhow,” Sam said after going in for a close up as she straightened, “and it’s not all his. This girl knows how to lubricate!”

Lynda had flopped on the sofa. On screen, she parted her thighs and started fingering herself.

“Not now, girl. There’s another customer on the way in,” Sam said to her image.

“She only agreed to that last one,” I reminded him.

“I think we’d all enjoy seeing her in action again.”

Lynda’s fingers stopped moving, but she did not take them off her clit. She was inspecting the new customer. She drew her thighs further back, letting him see the wetness between them. “I’m feeling so hot,” she exclaimed. “Would you like to help me out? Otherwise I’ll have to keep doing this to myself.” She demonstrated and groaned. I assumed he was still gawking at what he had walked in on.

“Unless you can take this partition down there ain’t much I can do,” the customer said finally. He sounded like an older man.

“Would you like to fuck me if I did?”

“What would it cost to do that if I could?”

“Fifty dollars,” she said.

“Fuck, she is desperate for it!” Sam exclaimed.

‘That’s pretty cheap,” the man’s voice followed. “Is there a catch?”

“There’s just a padded place in the glass where you can stick your cock through to my side,” Lynda explained.

“And you actually let me stick it inside you.”

“Yes," she breathed excitedly.

“All right.”

Lynda collected the money then went over to the cabinet and palmed a condom. She resumed her previous position on the sofa, but with her knees closed.

“Why don’t you take your trousers off and show me how hard you are?” She watched him. “You’re big, but it’s hanging down. You play with it for a while.” There was a silence. “That’s starting to shape up nicely.” She let her legs spread open. “Does this help… Yes, I see it does.”

She used her fingers to unfold her cunt lips; there was no verbal foreplay or teasing this time. She just wanted a stud!

She must have thought he still needed encouragement, though. She said sexily, “Does Mr Cock want to go in there? It certainly looks like it’s straining to. It’s wearing a very big hat.” She increased the pressure on her labia until her cunt stretched open beyond the point of normal dilation. “It’s ready for you now, Mr Cock - all wet and lubricated and open as big and round as you are.”

“You were just kidding about the slot in the window, weren’t you?”

“Do you want me?”

“Yes - can’t you see how much?”

“You can see how much I want you,” Lynda looked down between her legs. Sam zoomed in for such a close-up that I thought the camera lens was going to go right into her opening.

“Neat trick, eh?” Sam chuckled. “Don’t you just love that juicy view? You can see everything, eh?”

“Just pull back a bit.”

“Shall I show you where the slot in the window is?” Lynda was asking. She stood up to lead him. Sam changed to a back view. “You put it through here,” Lynda was showing him.

She opened the condom packet then fiddled in front of her belly. She moved forward and we saw the latex covered end of his cock coming out between her legs at the back. She put a hand behind her and lifted the head into her vulva to lubricate it. Then she swung off him, turned round, and bent over.

She checked to the side for her alignment, took his cock in her hand again – between her legs – and then backed onto it. We could hear the amplified wet sound of it going into her cunt, and the ecstatic groans they both gave. The glass started to vibrate as he rammed his boner in and out of her vigorously.

She came quickly. He came a little while later, by which time she was grimacing with discomfort. They broke contact. Lynda collapsed full length on the sofa.

“You were fantastic,” she exclaimed, to make up for the speed of it.

“Thank you,” the guy said, sounding as if he was putting his trousers on again.

“You’re welcome.”

Lynda gave up her day job. We stayed friends, but the only time I got to be her lover was in the make-believe world of the cubicle when I visited her from time to time, disguised as just another customer. It was expensive, but worth every dollar that her special fantasies cost me.

The End !!!

Good Night .

Good The Sunny Sunday Morning To All Readers here !!!

Here goes one short story for lunch break - Title : Purity . Enjoy !!!

“Kiss me again you fool!” So saying she pulled his head to hers and devoured his lips, drawing him deeper into her spell. He was helpless, caught by her surprisingly strong arms, and though his mind screamed that this was wrong, that he couldn’t, his body wanted her.

It was several minutes before she let him come up for air, and he gasped for breath as she wrapped her hunter’s legs around his waist, so that even if he’d wanted to, there was no separating them. With her hands she tore at his chest wildly, making him cry out, drawing blood with her wicked nails. He pulled her hands away and braced himself above her, holding her arms out like he was crucifying her. Then he gazed down into her face, her eyes aflame with what he assumed must be passion.

She licked her pink lips seductively and purred, “Like what you see?” But she knew he did because his hardened cock was straining against her inner thigh, begging to be admitted. Still he stared, his gaze moving lower now, to her pale neck, swan-like and aristocratic, then down to her perfect breasts, covered only by a scrap of diaphanous material that seemed to shimmer in the dim light of her chamber. Below, though he could not see, he could feel that the same thin covering traced the line of her stomach and down, revealing more than it concealed.

She laughed, a low throaty laugh like she was remembering a private joke, and then she suddenly pressed upward with her pelvis, driving it and him into the air and then dropping down again, causing him to slam into her pubis, making her cry out. Then he was hers, utterly. All thoughts of escape, denial, of anything but her body were driven from his mind. She could see it in his eyes and she laughed again, a joke he didn’t understand but didn’t care.

Somehow he was naked, though he didn’t remember taking his clothes off. Somehow his shaft of pure iron was squeezed between her legs, between the powerful muscles of her thighs. He could feel the wetness of her passage beckoning him, oozing out to coat his crotch even as she writhed and playfully tried to free her hands from his. The animal took him and he dove into her, licking, biting, kissing his way down her chin, over her pretty collarbone, noticing belatedly that somehow she had removed the swathe of fabric from her breasts as he was already attacking them like a madman.

She arched her back and rolled her head back and screamed, a sound which, had he been in a better frame of mind he might have thought eerie, but as it was it simply drove him on. He ground his pelvis against hers, making her wail, an unearthly wail that seemed to grab him and drag him deeper. She bucked her hips again and again he drove against her, feeling her wetness spread over him and move upward to her abdomen and his as she pressed her body to his like she wished to join the two as one.

He felt no need to keep her pinned; it was as if she was helpless beneath him. His hands moved like lightning down her flanks to cup themselves beneath her tight buttocks and pull her hips closer to him as he pressed his length against her, driving her into the bed. Her hands clawed his back but he was beyond caring. He raised himself with sheer strength until he was face to face with her, wild eyes boring into his soul. And then he entered her, with one stroke, and he felt complete.

Her mouth opened but no sound came out, her eyes looking shocked in a way he wished every woman he’d fucked had had. With his hands still firmly on her rear he simply ground himself into her, his coarse hair rasping at her lips, her clitoris, every part of her most sacred of places. He collapsed onto her, pressing her nipples, peaked and almost sharp, into his chest, feeling every breath she took as she gasped for air under his onslaught. He felt powerful there, atop her frail form, his swarthy body making hers all the more pale, his bulk making her seem smaller, though she was as tall as he.

Suddenly, without warning, she was atop him, though he did not know how, wordlessly rocking her hips back onto his shaft, enveloping him in her tight warmth, head reared back. He found his arms on her breasts, the stiff peaks pressing into his palms, and for a moment he was so disoriented that he nearly came without realizing. But he fought to control himself. He wanted to see her face when he brought her to orgasm, see that curious look of pain that every man wants to give a woman, feel her tighten on him, feel the waves ride over the whole length of his cock.

Now she had her arms back behind her, her back arched, her breasts moving out of reach. She ground against his legs in a circular motion, and he could feel her buttocks pressing on his thighs. Her stomach was flat, her belly button so tempting that he had to stroke it, and she laughed, the motion felt by both his hands and his cock inside her. She moved slowly but somehow it was more sensation than he’d ever had from a woman riding him.

Then he was behind her, she on her hands and knees, and again his disorientation nearly took him over the edge. Had her passage not been so tight and warm, he might have thought about these abrupt shifts, but his hips moved on their own, slamming his shaft into her with such force that she cried out again, a long, low, animal cry, and flipped her head back, her cascade of hair flowing from one side to the other. She shuddered as he drove again, and this shudder passed through her into him like lightning.

He was still shaking when he found himself looking down at her again, her eyes holding his, her hands on his face. He realized he was covered in sweat, that he felt the seed welling up in his groin, his cock tightening. “Cum,” she whispered. “Release. Pass through my portal. Pour your soul into my chamber.” He didn’t know what she was talking about but it didn’t matter, he was cumming. Spurt after spurt of heat jetted from his core, splashing into her. And it didn’t stop; it was as if his entire life-force was concentrated in the base of his spasming cock, straining to be released. His eyes widened and his body went limp, and he would have fallen if not for her hands supporting him with secret strength.

And then he knew, as he looked into her eyes. But he couldn’t stop. He kept cumming and cumming, surely filling her to the brim with his manhood, but still she asked more. He felt himself being drawn out, pulled into the warm darkness of her passage, draining into her with every pulse of his nearly empty body. She smiled, and it was a smile of victory.

Then he was gone. She rolled over slowly, luxuriously, licking her lips as if she had just eaten the most delicious confection. Her pale back shone in the moonlight. Her hair fell to the bed like a waterfall. In the darkness beneath, her eyes glinted with hunger.

The End !!!

How about another one about - Fiction, Domination/submission, Mind Control, Bondage and restriction - Title : Different . Enjoy !!!!

The room is dimly lit, sparsely furnished, and did nothing to alleviate the knot of fear forming in your stomach. You stand there quietly, letting your eyes grow accustomed to the lesser light, as the still-dark forms begin slowly to take form.

The first thing that you notice is the walls, the floor, (you glance upward into the darkness) perhaps even the ceiling, are of a tightly fitted flagstone, smooth and unbroken; and your immediate impression is that you have been transported somehow to another place; one of a barren, rocky landscape bathed in perpetual dusk.

This is quite a contrast to those elegant rooms you had seen in the rest of the house. Only moments before you had been in the midst of a wonderful party filled with bright lights, delicious foods, and the voices of dozens of people talking and laughing. The music was loud, but not harsh, and, as you wandered slowly from room to room, you had noticed, with a certain sense of satisfaction, the eyes of the many men there had found you, held you, and caressed you with more than just a passing interest.

You imagine for a moment that you can still hear those now distant sounds, but as you hold your breath to listen closely, you realize that the only thing you can truly hear is the rush of your own blood in its quick, rhythmic course. No sound seeps in from the outside world, just as you know that no sound made within, no matter how shrill or piercing, no matter how desperate, would escape to it. The knot tightens.

You look around. The room is not dirty; it is, in fact, spotlessly clean and orderly. You can now see that a matching pair of dark walnut wardrobes standing opposite each other, near the corners of the room. A heavy, well-padded, wooden bar stool stands near the one on your right. On your left, taking up most of the length of the wall is a table; well, something like a table, anyway. The top is bare and flat, but the sides are covered with rings and what appear to be fastening devices of some kind. The sweet smell of scented wax hangs like a whisper in the air.

The stone walls are bare of any ornamentation except for a single large glass display case directly across from the door you had just come through. The door is, even now, locking. You jump a little as the large slide bolt is forced home with a loud clack. Inside the case there are several rows of dildos, vibrators, oils, candles, switches, crops, canes, floggers, and whips, all lined up like little soldiers, it seems, ready for battle. As you gaze at this collection a shiver works its way through your body, and you wonder, once again, why you have come here with me. I step past you, my body massive and towering, and that feeling of being small, weak, and helpless washes over you, as it had the first time you had seen me. A tiny tremor of anticipation flutters within your sex.

“I’m so glad you chose to come,” I say softly, my voice low and honey-filled. You start to open your mouth to speak, but I am walking away from you, toward the stool, so you say nothing. You look down and swallow. The knot grows tighter still. You stand wondering as you listen to me move about. Had you chosen to come? It didn’t seem so to you as the images of the past few days race through your thoughts.

You had met me at a party only two nights ago, and you had found me to be handsome, charming, witty, and masculine. Very masculine. As we spoke, while sitting before the glowing fireplace, you had felt the familiar stirrings within. Yes, of course, there was that, you thought, but there was something else about me. Something different. Something unusual. Something…well, something intriguing enough for you to accept my invitation to a party celebrating my forty-first birthday two nights from then.

You had come alone, even though I had told you that you could bring an escort if you wished. All night long you had only caught glimpses of me as I moved about talking and laughing with my other guests; My eyes catching yours for a moment I gave you a quick, enigmatic smile, and then moved on. In fact, you thought crossly, for the whole of the evening I had not said a word to you; had not even welcomed you to my party, or my home. But suddenly; surprisingly, I was there before you; my hand extended, palm up, a smile playing on my lips, a look of expectation in my eyes. You placed your hand in mine. So small, you thought, and I led you away. Away from the light. Away from the music. Away from the voices and the laughter. To here. You had not, you remembered, even looked back.

You thought that I would take you upstairs, to my room, where I would demand your sex, and you would have given it to me gladly. The thought of me above you, driving into you, made you flush with excitement. But when I opened the door at the end of the hallway and the stairwell led down, and my hand was at your back, gently pressing you forward, you felt the ends of the rope in your stomach encircle each other and your anticipation became anxiety.

The sound of the stool’s feet scraping across the polished stone floor brings you back to ‘here’, and you glance around once again. I bring the stool to the middle of the room and, turning to face you, take my place on it, half-sitting and half-leaning against it. For several moments I remain motionless, my head tilted slightly, hands folded loosely in my half-lap, looking at you. my eyes move slowly from the top of your head down to your feet. You shiver as I appraise you; as I follow the contours of your form, looking openly at the gentle curve of your hip, the round fullness of your breasts, and I notice everything it seems; each soft curve, each gentle fold, even to the slightest of imperfections. You blush under my gaze; the pink of your flesh becoming deeper, darker, and more luxuriant. You bite your lower lip nervously and lower your eyes as you wait. This is not in the least what you had expected, and you shiver again; out of the sense of anxiety in not knowing what is about to happen, of course, but, as you feel the fluttering tickle at your sex again, you have to admit that the eager anticipation of what is about to happen is returning, as well.

You glance up once again at me, and the thought that I look like a king on my throne crosses your mind. You hide the smile this image brings to you as you watch me sitting there, regal and proud. I am certainly giving every indication that I am your Lord and Master, you think. The smile fades as you tumble the words around in your mind. Lord. Master. You glanced up again to find my deep steel blue eyes on yours; cool, serene, penetrating…the eyes of one who owns another. The eyes of a Lord. The eyes of a Master. You look down quickly, trying to find something, anything, for your eyes to focus on. Your breath quickens; becoming more shallow, as the knot tightens slightly once again.

“Take off your clothes.”

My voice is the voice of a Master as well. Deep. Controlled. Almost a whisper. Your mind is racing, seeking the words you need to deny me what I want; to demand that I return your at once to the party upstairs. Your mouth hangs slightly open, waiting for your mind to fill it. But your hands! Your hands are already fumbling at the buttons and snaps of your dress. You look at them dumbly, as if they had a mind of their own, as if they are betraying you to me. The black and silver dress slips softly from you, ending in a puddle at your feet, followed by the black slip.

You look up, feeling disoriented, perhaps even a little dizzy. I have not moved. Even my expression is unchanged. You focus on me, on my serenity, until the churning in your stomach stops until you stop trembling.

“All of them.”

You nod slowly and reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra. All the while you are thinking “This is what you wanted wasn’t it?” “You are attracted strongly to him, aren’t you?” You feel a tickle at the top of your thigh as the nectar from your body forms a small bead and begins to trickle downward which tells you that you desired me greatly. As does the aching hardness of your nipples as you pull the bra free of them and let it fall carelessly to the floor at your feet. “Then why do you feel this way? Why are you so…afraid?” You step back, out of your heels, leaving them buried under your clothes.

You had been nervous when, as a girl, boys had done things to you: when one had first touched your budding breasts, when another had placed his sex at your lips, when still a third had pushed, first his finger, and then his sex up inside of you. Back then you had had girlfriends who giggled the night away at slumber parties talking of boys, and the things that they would do to you. And so, when the time came, you had been nervous, but not afraid; not like this. Because this was so different, so unlike anything you had ever experienced before, and no girlfriend had told you about men like this. Even if they had, no girlfriend could have told you that you would desire a man like this or that you would desire the feelings I was bringing to you, like this. You hook your thumbs over the sides of your lace panties but pause for a moment as you glance past me at the glass case hanging on the wall. Are you to taste pain before I make love to you? Would it be so bad if you did? Would the pain I give you be overshadowed by the pleasure? God, you want me so much! You moan softly as you push your panties down and stepped out of them.

Continue next page ………

You stand there, exposed before me, holding your hands nervously together at arm’s length, trying not to appear too obvious as you covered yourself. You feel your skin pulled tight as goose bumps cover your body; a tangible feeling, like a caress.

“Stand up straight. Put your hands behind your back. Spread your feet out more.”

You followed the directions I have given your numbly, slowly, no longer thinking about the consequences, or the alternatives. You think, instead, of the boys again. Each time that they took what they wanted from you, you had struggled, and they had held you tightly in your struggles. Each time you were helpless to stop them from doing to you what they wished. And each time your struggles led you to the same sweet conclusion: that by submitting to their desires you had discovered your own. You glance up at me again and wonder, what desires of mine will you be submitting to? What will I draw from you in your submission?

“Come to me.”

You regain your normal footing and, step over the pile of clothes before you, walk the few paces to me. I stand up from my stool, standing just before you. Again, the feeling of being small and weak overpower you. And helpless, of course; helpless before me and my desires.

“You may take mine off now.”

Different. Again, I am different. You have never met a man who had not ripped his own clothes from hisr body, anxious to be rid of them, anxious to skip the delectable appetizers of your feast entirely, hungry only for the main course. You reach up and began to undo the buttons of my shirt. You work slowly and methodically. You pull the tails from my pants and then undo the buttons at my wrists before slipping the shirt from my shoulders and down until it hangs loosely in your hand. You stand still for a moment, the shirt dangling loosely from your fingers, wondering what you should do with it, until I take it from you and toss it over the pile of your clothing, covering it. You lower yourself to your knees and work at removing my shoes and socks. That done, you reach up and unfasten my belt. You bite your lower lip again as a sense of something familiar finally begins to take effect. You unbutton my pants and slid them down the length of my legs to my ankles, holding them as I step out. You look up at the briefs that remain, the front bulging from the strain of my sex’s aching need to be released. You carefully, tenderly, pull it from its silk prison, unable to stop yourself from sliding your fingers along the shaft, reveling in its hardness, before tugging and pulling the briefs down and off. Your task completed, you kneel there at my feet, waiting for my voice to tell you what to do next.

Instead, you feel my fingers slide into your hair at the back of your head, entwining themselves in the locks, and begin to pull up gently but firmly. Yes. At last, the knot begins to loosen. This is something you know; a landscape you recognize. You lift your head, tilting it back, and opened your mouth to receive me. But the pressure at your scalp continues unabated, threatening to lift your from the floor. You gasp at the sudden, unexpected pain as you scrambled to your feet, clutching at my hips for balance. My stiffened sex brushes along your cheek and breasts as you rise unsteadily. The feeling of being on an icy walk, unable to gain a sure footing, overtakes you. What do I want from you? Why was what your willing to give not enough?

I release my grip on your hair and take you into my arms, pulling you to me, crushing your breasts against my chest. My mouth clamps onto yours fiercely, my tongue pushing its way past your parted lips into your mouth. Your arms hang limply at your sides. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to please me. You feel like a foolish, naive schoolgirl; your teacher impatiently repeating instructions you thought you already knew. My tongue explores your mouth, taunting and teasing your own to dance, to play. You feel your desire beginning to rise again and you feel faint. A moan rumbles in your throat. You feel my sex throbbing at your belly, and press yourself against it. You lean into my kiss, sucking at my tongue, your hands rising to encircle my waist. You lift yourself up on your toes, reaching for me, your body crying out its need. Suddenly, I brake the kiss, and look at you. My eyes are narrowed as I peer into yours, as if I was looking for…something. Yours are wide, What?, almost frantic. What? I turn and walk away.

God damn it! You burst into tears as you stand there in misery, your palms upturned, and your head and shoulders sag forward. The pain from your eyes and the desire from your sex floods in equal torrents. What was wrong? Why am I doing this? You have never failed to excite any man and had never failed to please the man you chose to. Never. Until now. You step forward and place your hands on the cushion of the stool for support, your vision is blurred by the tears. You can hear a soft rustling nearby, and you know that I had found you wanting and was gathering my clothing, preparing to leave you. The sound of a door closing brings a fresh sob from your throat, but when you open your eyes I am there, standing before you. Your heart leaps and pushes away the confusion you feel. I’m giving you another chance to prove yourself, another chance for you to please me, and that is all that matters to you.

“I’ll do anything you want me to.” You can barely get the words out. “Anything.”

My voice is soft and soothing, caressing you; touching not your flesh, but your very soul.

“I know you will, my darling. I know you will.”

My fingertips brush your hair from your forehead, away from your eyes, but the tears that cover your cheeks are left untouched. Then my mouth is on yours once more, the kiss forceful and overpowering. You hear the soft rustling sound again as I drop something to the floor and then my hands are on yours, gently squeezing and caressing them as I touch you. I take your wrists firmly in my hands for a moment, and then release them as I begin to drift slowly up the length of your arms.

I lean forward into the kiss and you stand up, pulling your body back to relieve the pressure on your neck. My hands slide further up your arms and then I push them back behind you until your wrists are crossed at the small of your back. I hold them there for a moment and you understand what it is I want from you. At least, you think that you do. As I release you and draw my fingers back slowly, you hold your wrists together, as if bound.

I cup your breasts in my hands and lift them slightly, measuring, testing, exploring the weight and feel of them. My touch is soft and smooth as I caress and fondle you. I lift my hands a little more and capture your erect nipples between my thumb and forefinger. You close your eyes, blocking out everything but the feel of my touch upon your flesh.

You press your hips towards me, signaling your aching desire for me, but are blocked by the padded stool that stands between us. My lips and tongue continue their ravishment of your mouth as my fingers do the same to your breasts. I begin pulling harder, the weight of your breasts being lifted by the stretched nipple. You push yourself forward again, grinding the mound of your sex against the soft leather of the padded cushion on the wooden stool. The painful pressure is like a gallon of gasoline poured freely over the fire in your loins. You pushed yourself up on your tip-toes reaching for me, giving yourself to me both physically and emotionally.

The pressure continues to increase as I pull you forward still, towards me; lifting not only the weight of your breasts by the nipples, but the weight of your body as I lift you higher. It is everything you can do not to bite down on my tongue filling your mouth. The pressure. God! It was almost unbearable; almost too much.

And then it was too much. A startled cry escapes your throat and races past my tongue, finding voice in my mouth. You open your eyes wide and bring your hands quickly from behind your back and grab at my wrists, thrusting yourself up and towards me as far as you can, both pushing with your toes and pulling with your hands to relieve the agony at your breasts.

You are overwhelmed by that dizzy disorientation again as you suddenly realized that I am below you, kissing up at you. It gives you the strangest sensation of floating. You looked to the side, trying to see past my face, trying to find something to focus on, trying to regain your sense of equilibrium. You realize that I have crouched down in front of you and you are indeed kissing down at me. You are pulled after me as I lower myself still further, until your contact with the floor is lost and you are, in fact, floating…balanced unsteadily as you lay across the stool.

Continue next page ……….

Your hands remain on my wrists as you pull me to you, both to keep your balance and to manage the pressure on your nipples. Then, without warning, the pressure is gone; but so are my hands. You grab at the stool legs to keep from falling forward over the top and find yourself trapped; not wanting to fall but not able to push yourself back up. You looked up into my smiling face as I pick up a short piece of bright white rope from where it is laying on the floor and calmly began to turn loop after loop around your wrist and then two more around the bottom rung of the stool, tying it off tightly. A sense of helpless fear washes over you, but you find yourself grinding your hips against the soft leather once again. You watch, dazed, whimpering softly, as I pick up another piece of the rope and casually tie you other wrist to its corresponding leg…three loops, two loops, a knot…and you are bound to your wood and leather prison completely. Only now do you let go of one stool leg, for just a moment, to tug at the rope around your wrist, as if testing the reality of your situation.

Another pitiful moan escapes your throat as the fetter holds tight. You try to look back up at me but I have moved to your side and your long hair has slipped down over your head and hangs loosely all around your face, creating a heavy veil through which you can see almost nothing at all. The only thing that you can see clearly as you hang draped over the stool is through the legs of it, to whatever is directly behind you, which at the moment is only a pile of clothing and the heavy, bolted door.

You feel my breath on the back of your neck, warm and moist, as I kiss you there tenderly. A gentle kiss and then an equally gentle nip, your skin drawn into my mouth first by my teeth and then my lips sucking at it. A fresh wave of goose bumps wash over you at my soft touch. I repeat the kiss a little farther down your neck, and then again yet another inch or so farther along…and again… I follow the stepping-stones of your spine across the writhing flesh of your back, moving closer and closer to your bottom, now raised and completely exposed to me as you lay across your perch. You instinctively clench your cheeks together tightly as my lips move to the dimples on either side of your tailbone. And then I am behind you, murmuring just loud enough for you to pick the words out between the pounding of your heart in your ears, telling your how perfect….how flawless…your bottom is, how the skin is like pink silk against my lips. I kiss one side and then the other, back and forth, lower and closer together each time. You gasp as my lips brush against the folds of your labia peeping out between your legs. Then I am kissing my way down the length of one of your legs. The feeling is exquisite, and you close your eyes again, losing yourself in the sensuousness of it, so much so that you hardly feel it as I loop the third piece of rope around your ankle and fastened it to the stool.

By the time I have kissed my way up your captured leg and down the other one, you no longer care when I reach for the final piece of rope. In fact, you long for it, wondering, with an intoxicating mixture of desire and trepidation what will happen next, now that you are completely in my power…your body exposed and open to my every whim.

My hands are at your ankles, exploring the textures of rope and flesh with my finger-tips. You look back through the legs of the stool and see me kneeling behind you. You see the light brown wood of the stool legs, the pale color of your legs behind them, and the bright white of the nylon rope holding them together. My hands, darker than all the rest, slowly move up from your ankles, stroking the velvet-soft skin. You close your eyes, shutting out everything but the feelings of my touch on you.

You feel my lips on your body once again as I began to kiss you with tiny, light pecks. It feels like little butterflies fluttering against you as the softness of my lips and the tickle of my short beard land here and there along your upper thighs and round bottom again and again. My kisses encircle your sex completely but only tease you with the nearness of them. My hands reach the tender backs of your knees and I push them apart, forcing them to the outside edges of the stool legs.

You lean forward slightly and arch your back, lifting yourself higher, making your sex more available to me. The circle I am kissing tightens and soon I find your center, kissing and licking lightly along your labia. You grit your teeth and pushed yourself towards me, opening yourself as much as you can as a raw, animalistic lust overtakes you. A moment of panic clouds your mind as you realize that you are no longer in control of even your own emotions, the very core of your being, a feeling you hate, but you find yourself surrendering to it, as well, and soon savage, guttural sounds fill the small room as my tongue finds and tapped maddeningly at the swelling nub of your clitoris.

My hands are on your bottom now, clutching and pulling the halves apart, and my nose and lips are pressed into your sex as my tongue continues its erotic dance with your trembling sex. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you approached your orgasm. Please, you think, Don’t stop. Let my torture be ended…don’t stop.

You pull up hard against each of your fetters with all of your strength, pulling yourself into the padding of the stool, intensifying the feeling of the restraints, of being held tightly, as much as possible as the orgasm rips through you. Your release comes in the form of a scream, so loud and shrill that it frightens you, but I am unfazed and relentless as I ride the orgasm to its shuddering conclusion and began coaxing another from you almost immediately. Your ears ring from the piercing sound caught in the small room. A scream, you think, I’ve never screamed before, no matter how good it was…

A sound comes to your ears through the fog of your declining orgasm. A rough, scraping sound. Through your tingling nerve ends you feel a sudden, short movement forward. Your body continues to wriggle atop the stool, responding to my expert attention. I press deeper and the stool slips forward again. The thought of me following your around the room on my knees as you ride the stool comes to your mind unexpectedly and you began to giggle weakly. You bite down on your tongue. No, you think, Don’t do anything to spoil this. You feel the next wave build in intensity, and you close your eyes again.

The stool slips forward once again but stops suddenly, short of its usual distance. You opened your eyes and look down. The foot of the stool stands against the lip of the next stone; one slightly higher than the one the stool is on. As you are looking at this, your eyes half close, a slight smile on your lips, as the wave continues to heighten, you feel the stool move forward again, but the foot remained where it was; trapped against the higher stone. You look back at the rear legs and see that they are off the floor by more than an inch. Instinctively you raise your hand to catch yourself if the stool actually does fall over, but the movement is cut short by the rope around your wrist, holding you fast.

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For a full second, an eternity, your mind stumbles over and around the facts being thrown at it. Your hand remains open, frozen, reaching out, as you balance tentatively on the two forward legs your perch. Your orgasm rises up, engulfing your like a dark cloud. You gasp aloud, “Oh God!” as the realization of the danger you are in finally comes to you. You press yourself frantically backwards, away from the fall, toward me. Your fear holds the crushing wave at bay until the stool drops back to the floor with a solid Thump! The orgasm that follows, fueled not simply by lust and libido, but with a jolt of adrenaline, roars through your body uncontrolled, shaking you like a dog would shake a rag. You can hear nothing…see nothing.

Your not sure if you had fainted or not, as you come to yourself once again, or whether your body had simply collapsed from the sheer intensity of your orgasm. You hang limply, unable to move and feel my hands on you again, higher up, nearer your hips. When had I stood up? You try to lift your head but are still unable to.

You feel another strange shift in reality as it seems suddenly that things are moving faster than you can grasp.

You try to collect yourself and focus on what is happening. You are aware of my hands on you; no longer low, at the crease between bottom and thigh, but almost on top, pushing down, pushing you…away from me. You are also aware of my manhood nestled between the round orbs of your backside. You shudder. Not there! You have never been taken there. Was this what he had wanted all along? You feel the stool rise as it lifted on two legs once again. You hold your breath. I am holding you. You think “He wouldn’t let you fall”. “He wouldn’t.” You feel my sex slide along the split as I pushed you forward. It was a lewd, nasty feeling having it there. You are moving forward still, and even though you know that it is useless, you opened your hands again, fingers spread wide, and pull against the bonds.

You feel the hard shaft follow the course it is in still further until the contact between my flesh and yours is a mere point at the fullest part of your bottom. Finally, as you whimper, knowing that you are very close to the point that you will fall no matter what I do to stop it, you feel my sex drop from its touch with you and then I am pulling you back. You gasp, first in relief as you feel yourself being brought back from the edge, and then again as you feel me enter you.

You lift your head, your lips part, and wait for me to drive up into you. Your heart is pounding. You moan as you realize I am holding you in place, not letting you move forward or backward. You are being torn apart by the competing needs of fear and desire - each trying to control completely your thoughts and emotions.

My strong hands hold you tight, rocking you back and forth gently. You whimper, “Please. Oh God ….please!” as you hang over your perch in a teetering balance, but you don’t know which you are pleading for more: to be taken from the terror you are feeling or to be taken by the turgid shaft that stayed, teasingly, at the entrance to your sex. And then I let go of you and you are falling.

You scream.

You fall back towards me and are impaled. There was no other word you can think of to describe what is happening to you. This was not the hard thrust of a lover’s hip. This was a driving locomotive slamming into you, overpowering your, rending both body and spirit. You clamped down on me as hard as you can but it does nothing to slow the ruthless penetration of your body. Your scream ends only when the feet of the heavy stool crashed to the floor and your bottom slams against my lower belly, pushing me back with the impact.

Your eyes are wide, your mouth open in shocked surprise as the stool clatters to a standstill. This can’t be! you think, Not like this! My hands are on your again, pushing you up, pushing your away. As I slide from within you, you moan and try to drive the feeling away. I push you higher, and then release you, letting your fall onto me again. Our bodies shake with the force of the collision. Again I lift and again you fall. No. No. No. My voice comes to your like a caress, like a gentle, sweet kiss.

“Cum, my darling. Cum hard. Give me your desire. Give me your release.”

The orgasm engulfs you…devours you. Your submission to it is your complete and total submission to me. I am your teacher…your lover…your Master. The electricity flows freely through your veins and you become aware that I have lifted you again and am thrusting into your with short, frantic stabbing motions. A low gasp and I am flooding you with my seed. You realize that you are sobbing.

And then, somehow, you are free of the stool and in my lap, my arms around you holding you tightly to me, my voice in your ear, whispering your name and of my devotion to you. Your arms are across your chest as I hold you, rocking you, as if you are a child; and, like a child, you feel the safety and security…the love…that you have missed for so long. I brush your tears lightly from your cheek and kiss you tenderly. I looked deeply into your eyes and whisper, “I will do anything you want me to. Anything”

You nod slowly and slip your arms around my waist, pressing your cheek into my chest. Fresh tears flow as you feel your heart swell. Images flood your mind, images that such a short time ago would have horrified you, and you know that what you ‘wanted’ has changed much in the last hour. You glance up at the glass case on the wall and sniffed again at the aroma of the scented candles, and you know that neither your desires nor you will ever be the same again.

The End !!!

One last story for the day ….it’s about Fiction, Erotica, First Time, Job/Place-of-work, Male/Female, Mind Control . Title : Degrees Of Attraction . Enjoy !!!

I had been getting to know Tina Reilly for some time now. Not by talking to her as much as asking about her, and asking the women in my office who knew and gossiped about everybody. If those women took from that the idea that is was interested in getting to know Tina better, and dating her, well, that was the truth as far as it went. The girl was not much younger than I, so the women got the added thrill of maybe being matchmakers.

I knew that she was not attached, or not very. She had not long ago broken up with a boyfriend (and had not really been serious with him) and dated a couple of men off and on. She was Irish Catholic, and was brought up north of here, staying after going to school in the city.

As with most offices, the place is fairly empty just before and after holidays, with people taking long weekends. Our computers are networked in such a way that everyone can see when anyone will be taking leave. So when I saw that Tina was going to be there the Friday before Columbus Day, I did not put in for it.

That meant that of the twelve or so of us, only three were there that day. The third was an older man who left his desk a lot for bathroom breaks but not much otherwise.

I had noted that Tina went to the breakroom for coffee around ten, so after walking by her desk to see that she was there, I went in five minutes before ten. As she walked in, I was standing by the coffeepot.

I asked if I could fix her a cup, and she hesitated, then said yes. I handed it to her with a mild hypnotic added, obtained through a chemist I knew of who dealt in such things under the table. I tried to talk to her pleasantly, but in general acted no differently than usual.

At lunchtime, I stopped her and spoke to her as she came back, walking her to my cubicle on the pretext of discussing a problem. (Hers was near that of Martinson, the older man.)

When she sat in my extra chair, I put her under.

“On a scale of zero to ten, with zero being having no particular reaction to me and with ten being that you regard any of my words or wishes as equivalent to direct messages from God Almighty, you will, beginning next Monday go one number higher each week in your attitude to me and attraction to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“If at any time in the future I say to you “miraculous” three times in a row, you will maintain whatever level of affection you have reached. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

Then I told her that if at any time I said to her a certain other word three times she would go back to whatever level of affection she had toward me before that day, and regard any change there had been as a passing phase. I asked her if she understood.

“Yes, I understand.”

“That’s great Tina. That’s all I needed.”

“Sure,” she said. She smiled and went back to her cube.

I spent the next two weeks being conspicuously nice to Tina, and on the next Friday I asked her for a date. She smiled nicely, but said that she was busy.

“Ask me next week,” the tall redhead said. “I do kind of like you.”

The third week I acted the same way, and on Thursday I asked her again. She said, “I am busy on Friday, but maybe Saturday?”

That was fine with me, and I tried my best to make Saturday evening fine for her. I made a point of not trying to kiss her, but I did ask about a date next Friday.

She agreed. The next Wednesday, I mentioned to her an art exhibit which I had been told would interest her, and asked if she wanted to go on Saturday afternoon with me. She was enthusiastic. Tina shyly added that if I was willing and available, she would like to fix dinner for the two of us and sit and talk in her apartment that evening.

I don’t think I need to say that I liked the idea.

That day and the next and Friday Tina found an amazing number of reasons to stop by my desk. The movie on Friday evening was so-so, but the dinner before was very good and when we stopped at the door of her place she turned her face with its bright brown eyes up to me for a goodnight kiss and I bent down. It was nice, and better still was the fact that her lips trembled to show that she was on the edge of opening her mouth. I think if I had tried to, I could have tipped her over easily, but I did not. I think that women are much happier if such decisions are all their own - as far as they know.

The exhibit was one that Tina enjoyed thoroughly, the dinner was one I that I liked just as much, and afterward… The conversation was bright and lively, we learned a great deal about each other, and we shared our first kiss of the evening only a few minutes after sitting on her couch. Her mouth trembled even more, but I made no move to open it.

Our second one was over an hour later, after nine at night, and this time I saw her teeth and tongue before our lips touched. Her tongue was agile at wrapping around mine, and I explored the inside of her mouth for a long time, until we broke away breathless. I held her for a while, and our conversation was interrupted frequently thereafter by kisses and caresses and times when she got up to let her passions cool.

It was eleven when I left, with promises of next Friday and Saturday evenings together.

This week she was at a level of four in affection, or perhaps five, depending on how her mind interpreted my instructions. She found even more opportunities to talk to me at work, and when I was alone with her in the supply room and kissed her on the forehead, she pulled my head down to touch our lips.

She called me at home that night, and we talked for a while.

On Friday night she invited me into her apartment for coffee at the end, and our goodnight kiss was a long one, with my hands kneading her back and the heels of my hands lifting the sides of her breasts and rubbing them a little. I could see in her brown eyes that she would not have minded going further, but I decided to let her desire build more for a while.

At the end of Saturday, we went into my apartment together for the first time. I felt that since she would be less comfortable here than in her own place, doing no more than last week would be a major step onward, but she actually asked me to kiss her neck; by the end I had opened her blouse and caressed her belly with my tongue and lips. When I dropped her at her apartment door, I slipped my hand down the back of her panties and cupped her cute little rear, though not using a finger on either of the obvious places.

Her mouth was open now for all our kisses, and I began to picture it open as her red hair bobbed up and down over my lap, her mouth taking long strokes over my erection. But that would come, at this rate…

Both next Friday and Saturday were guaranteed, of course.

She kissed me at work three times that week, and called me to chat twice. On Friday in her apartment I saw her naked breasts for the first time and she was most reluctant to let me go home.

On Saturday we went together to an indoor swimming pool in the afternoon. I got a good look at her bare legs for the first time and fantasized them wrapped around me; not for the first time, but now with a better idea of how they would look there. I also got the opportunity to feel them surreptitiously in the pool, almost to the point where they met. She saw my bare chest for the first time and felt my chest-hair, though what she thought I could only guess. Our play was almost too erotic to be allowed there

We separated to change, and she met me at a restaurant near my apartment, and we never did go to the planned movie. We spent the evening in my place. By ten-thirty I had her leaning against me, naked to the waist, with my tongue in her mouth and my fingers in her panties, bringing her to orgasm.

She did not go home that night. I suggested to her that I could open my couch to a bed and either she or I could use it, with the other of us in the bedroom. I gave her my bathrobe to use. She picked the couch.

But after I first drifted off to sleep, I woke again. I opened my eyes slightly to see Tina standing in my bedroom door, wearing my bathrobe and perhaps nothing else, staring in at my nude body (for that was how I slept). I am sure that she was struggling within herself on whether to come in. But she closed the door and went away.

The next weekend was a long one. It was Thanksgiving, and she was expected to be at her parents’ for Thursday and Friday and Saturday, coming back to town on Sunday night. In the middle of the day on Saturday my answering machine got a long-distance call from Tina, asking me to meet her on Sunday evening for dinner.

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